#cheers ill reblog that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

juletheghoul · 2 months ago

Text

primus

a/n: Something a little different, I am obsessed with General Marcus and the idea of him becoming a gladiator. Hope you enjoy this other world I want to live in lol, no beta and barely proofread!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, body / breast worship-Marcus gives it so right🤤, hand-stuff - female rec'g, taking of virginity, (reader is a slave so there is a power imbalance but so is Marcus), gladiatorial violence, nothing graphic- let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 3.4k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

The crowd roars loud enough to deafen, the sound of it like a great wave threatening to wash you out to sea but it's nothing new, you’re used to it. The house you serve, have served since birth, has done well for itself in recent years, all thanks to one Gladiator.

Marcus Acacius, the champion of the house of Romulus.

You’d seen him come in years ago and although you had been little more than a child, even then you could see what he had been reduced to, disgraced and defeated and practically at death's door. He had fought though, Gods knew he had fought. And just as you grew and flowered into a woman, he honed his skills anew, won matches throughout the city and had transformed from the disgraced General of Rome, to a true champion of the people.

You could see it even now, watching him make quick work of the paltry opponents sent to fight him in the arena. He swatted them away like troublesome flies, and the crowd loved him for it. The cup was held out to you, just as the man in the sand raised his sword.

“He really is of a form.” One of the hosts of the games remarked about the man fighting below, and your Domina smiled proudly.

“My husband has taken him and honed him, I dare say none in Rome are his equal.”

“We shall have to see about that.” The guest chuckled, not quite convinced but your Dominus laughed, unperturbed and unconvinced.

“My wife speaks truth, my Ludus has shaped him into a God of the arena.”

They continued their friendly bickering, while you watched the man below, you couldn’t deny his allure despite being more than a few years older than you. He looked up to the pulvanis and saluted to his Dominus, to his Domina, and for a heartbeat it felt as though his eyes locked with yours.

Lightning struck in your belly, the intensity of his gaze, even so briefly made your heart race. Ghostly fingers squeezed at your heart when the opponents fell on him, cornering him until he was surrounded. Attention locked on him despite your station, the laughs and doubts of his victory wreathing through the guests you served turned your stomach.

Deaths in the arena were a guarantee, that was to be sure. Every time your Dominus secured spots for his gladiators in the games it was expected that not all would return, this felt different though. He had to survive, why, you could not be sure.

“Aha! There we are. The legend of him is proved. He is victorious, and my wife’s words are true, as always.” Your Dominus smiles, kissing his wife’s hand as the doubters grumble about luck and ill-trained opponents.

The words flow over you, the only thing that draws your attention is the man standing below you, victorious and whole.

–

“The good wine, fetch it for me girl.” The sun shines through the balcony as your Dominus congratulates the gladiators who returned to the villa victorious. His wife, your Domina, sends you for the wine while he speaks at length of their virtues, stoking the fire of survival and vanity in them.

In truth the games hold no interest for you, never had you particularly enjoyed watching men fight to the death, it was a waste and had you the choice, you would never attend another.

They cheer louder than before when you return with the heavy jug, narrowly avoiding dropping it when he turns and catches your eye once more. Marcus has been invited out of the ludus below, and up into the main house.

He is much bigger than you expect. Tall and broad enough to intimidate anyone but the most surprising thing are his eyes, they are the softest thing about him.

“I would reward you, for your victory, for the honour and wealth you have brought to this house. Name your desire and I shall see it done.”

You pour for your Domina, ears straining to hear his voice.

“You honour me Dominus.” It’s so rich, deep and full of smoke. Your main focus is on not spilling the wine.

“I confess, I have felt a desire of late.” Your ears perk up, eyes following suit and when they meet his, they’re already set upon your face.

“You want her?” Your Dominus looks to you now as well, and you feel like a piece upon someone else’s board, to be moved around at their will.

“Only if she desires me as well.” He bows his head, and despite the tiny bloom of gratitude in your chest, your Dominus laughs.

“If she is what you desire, take her. The guards will lead you to the private quarters below and you may keep her there until the morning. I will have wine and a meal brought for the both of you.” Your Dominus waves a hand and it is done. Your virtue has been gifted to a Gladiator.

Your Domina frowns, but says nothing. She merely watches as you are led away, to spend the night with the former General of Rome.

The quarters are indeed private, but meagre. A lumpy bed, a small table with two chairs, an even smaller table with a large basin full of fresh water and clean linen, and a window. The door closes and your heart jumps into your throat.

“Shall I disrobe and lay on the bed?” You reach for the hem of the tunic, silently praying that he would not be too rough. The prudent thing to do, is to get it over with.

“No, wait-“ his hand engulfed yours, stopping you from reaching down and pulling off the fabric that hides your nakedness from him.

“I would speak a while, come.” He gestures to the table and you frown.

“Do you not desire my virtue? Is that not why you asked for me?”

“Yes, well, in truth I desire your company, as well as your body. I have noticed you of late, you have grown into a beautiful woman and I find my thoughts drifting to you often. Of your voice and of your touch. I dream about you.”

Your eyes widen, shocked into silence by his confession.

“I would have you enjoy our coupling, rather than simply enduring it.” His eyes dart away from your form when the guards bring a platter laden with food and drink, and when he gestures again, you finally sit.

He takes his time cleansing himself of the grit and grime of the arena, scrubbing away until a handsome, lined face appears underneath. Once clean, and armor free he sits with you, and urges you to eat.

It is a silent, slightly tense meal. Your fraying nerves had you mostly picking at the fruit and cured meats. The flutter in your belly kept you from overfilling it.

“How long have you served in this house?” His eyes are bright, curious.

“All my life. I was born in this house.” Your fingers fiddle with the edge of your tunic.

“Are you treated well?”

“I mostly tend to the Domina, she is very kind.” Your eyes drift to the bed, and the bottom of your belly falls again to imagine what he’ll ask of you once his own belly is full.

“You spoke of your virtue, you are as of yet untouched?” His voice lowers, almost apologetic.

“Yes. Well, untouched by anyone, except myself. There have been covert kisses here and there, friendly ones with others of my station.” He says nothing, but his gaze travels the expanse of your body. The slide of them is heavy from your breasts down to the slit in your tunic. His food sits forgotten on the small plate in front of him, and now there is hunger of a different kind on his handsome face.

“Do you find me desirable?” He leans back in his chair, broad and golden from the sun. Heat blooms in your chest, filling the corners of you.

“You are kind upon the eyes, I will not lie.” He smiles at this, and the heat spreads to the place between your legs, the place he will fill soon and a shudder travels along your spine.

“Have you enjoyed my victories in the arena?”

“I confess, I do not favour the games. Watching men kill each other holds no interest for me.” He laughs, surprised yet delighted.

“And yet you live and serve in a ludus, watching gladiators come and go your whole life.”

“The Gods have their reasons, I do not presume to question my place.” You shrug, unable to stop the corners of your lips from pulling up into a shy smile.

“Perhaps it is I who is blessed to end up here, in your company.” He muses and for a moment you cannot face his direct stare. “Come, lovely one. Let us to bed.” He rises, holding out his hand for you, It engulfs yours when you accept and join him.

Butterflies swarm as he guides you to the edge of the bed, the fine hairs all over your arms and legs standing on end when those rough, calloused palms skate softly over the curve of your shoulders. His breath fans over your face as he reaches the bottom of your tunic, pulling it up and off. The urge to bring your arms up over your breasts, to reach down and cup your sex makes your hands shake.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” His hands settle on your hips, squeezing at the flesh for a moment before removing his own layers. The sight of him, naked as you, with his heavy sex hardening before your eyes makes you shiver, part nervous, part exhilarated.

When he lays you down, you part your thighs to make space for him, once again praying the pain won’t be unbearable. The confusion paints your face in a frown as he lays beside you, and not directly on you.

“I would have you wet for me before I slip inside.” His tone, his words send another shiver down your spine before he presses his mouth to yours.

You have kissed before, a soft press of your lips to another, the barest taste of their tongue between rebellious giggles in the dark. Marcus’ kiss is nothing like that. He pulls you close, turning your body to press it to his, the stiff peaks of your breasts meeting the solid wall of his chest as his tongue slips past your open mouth and tangles with your own. For a moment, it is a little awkward but he guides you, pulling away before pressing forward again, leading you in his rhythm.

Your heart races, a curious excitement pooling low in your gut, in the yet untouched place between your thighs. You press them together while he claims your mouth.

When he pulls away, his breath comes out in pants and his sex presses hot and heavy against your belly.

“Lay on your back my sweet.” He kisses your shoulder, and you obey. Now, you think, now he will shove that thing inside me and rip me in half. You swallow thickly at the thought, it is so much thicker now, too big, surely.

He presses kisses to your shoulder, trailing them down to your arm, then the side of your breast before he pulls your nipple into his mouth. The steady suck of his mouth at the hardened peak forms a direct line to your cunt, the ache in it pulling a whimper from your mouth and a huff of self-satisfied laughter from him. Your skin is shiny with his spit when he lets it go.

“Does that feel good?” His hand holds the plump of your breast, tongue flicking against the peak while you nod, mouth-open in a silent stare. “What do you feel?” He sucks at it again, harder this time and a gasp leaves your mouth.

“I feel, hot. Warm all over, and an ache–” You pull in a sharp breath when his teeth pull teasingly at the bud. He soothes with his tongue, pink-cheeked and focused.

“Where do you ache?” He lets go, smoothing his palm in the valley between before holding the other one, and worshiping it just the same.

“I ache–oh, I ache–” It’s hard to focus when he sucks at the other nipple, your thighs pressing together without your permission. He stops, eyes flitting about your face.

“Where do you ache, tell me.”

“I ache here.” He follows your hand as it cups your cunt, the soft, fine hair there soaked in arousal like you have never known. He groans to see it, and then his hand pushes yours away, slipping between your thighs to pull them apart. He leans on his elbow, muscles glinting in the soft candle light as his fingers spread open the lips of your sex, exposing your dark pink insides to his gaze.

“Your pretty little cunt is so much better than I dreamed, spread your legs for me my sweet, I would work her open to take my cock.” Your heart races, your cunt clenches and then his fingers find the crux of you. They swirl slowly around the pert, sensitive pearl of your clit. Your mouth drops open in a silent ‘O’ at the way he manipulates you.

“So wet already.” He lowers his head, lips wrapping around a nipple again as he keeps his slow, maddening circuit. Your hands grip the threadbare linen beneath you, whole body clenching as he shoves you closer and closer to a shattering climax with his slow, delicious circles.

“Doesn’t that feel good? Doesn’t that feel so good, my sweet?” He presses his lips to your neck, whispering into your ear and you nod, frantically, clenching around nothing while the edges of everything blur with the threat of pleasure. Around, and around, and around he swirls, consistent, devastating until you can almost taste it.

Your mouth forms a steady chant of yes, yes, yes, as he continues his gentle exploration between your legs, fat pearly drops of his own arousal slipping against your hip but he is in no hurry.

The ache intensifies, the slick pools at the mouth of your cunt, and it's with a final, wet swirl that your climax washes over you. Your legs clamp shut around his hand, your body folds in on itself with the strength of it but it does not stop him, two thick fingers spear into your fluttering entrance, stretching and drawing out the pleasure of it while you gasp into his kiss.

“Gods above.” You whisper to yourself as the blood pounds in your ears, the warmth of his skin, the slick, rhythmic sound of his fingers working away between your legs stoking the fire once more.

“I could spill just watching you.” He pulls his fingers out, dripping in your lust and shoves them into his mouth. “Sweet as summer wine.” He licks them clean, vulgar and sweet all at once.

Again he reaches between your legs, slipping his fingers inside once more but with his thumb swirling around the crux of you.

He brings you to climax again, more intense with his fingers inside, petting at a divine spot you’ve never touched, and again, he doesn’t stop. He repeats his movements, his tongue flicking at your nipple, or licking into your mouth, until it’s too much and you push his hand away.

“Please, no more–I cannot.” You gasp for breath, skin shiny with sweat, the spot beneath you wet where your arousal has dripped down and soaked through the linen.

He laughs softly, proud and cocky at how many times he made you fall apart under his hand.

“If you would let me, I would do that for days.” He presses another kiss to your shoulder before moving up and settling between your thighs. The nervous flutter intensifies as his cock slips between the mess he’s made of your sex.

“I think you are open enough to take me now, I will try to go slow.” He kneels back on his haunches, lifting one leg up to hold. His fingers curl around the top of your knee, your calf resting on his shoulder as he grips his cock in the other hand.

Your belly trembles, part embarrassed, part excited to be so exposed to his gaze. The blunt end of it slides through your swollen folds, coated in your slick before he notches it and it’s with a slight burn that he slips it in. Inch by inch he presses forward, molding you to accept him, shaping you to fit him like a glove.

“Gods above.” He curses low as he bottoms out, so deep you feel him in your lungs.

Your hands ache from how tightly they grip at the fabric beneath you.

With a shuddering breath he holds himself still, allowing you a moment to get used to the intrusion of him, only a moment.

A sharp thrust pulls a gasp from your lips. His grip on your leg tightens, the other hand slides up and holds onto your hip, steadying you to accept the snapping of his hips.

The flex in his arms, the strong, firm muscles of his thighs pressed up against yours, the sheen of sweat glinting on his face and on his chest, all of it only makes it better, his beauty and his obvious desire for you serve to make you leak around him. You can feel it, dripping down your ass to add to the damp spot beneath you, it collects at the base of him too, drenching the curls there.

Your pants, his heavy breathing, and the vulgar sound of his skin slapping against yours is the song of your coupling. The burn is replaced with a pleasant feeling of fullness. It is not as good as his fingers at your clit but his obvious pleasure adds to your own.

“I’m going to come, going to fuck it deep inside of you.” Sweat drips down his nose and the vision of him, so like when he’s in the arena might push you closer to another climax.

“Here it comes–” He presses your legs up, opening them wider, folding you in half while he fucks into you hard enough to make the bed shake. With a low groan, and a thrust deep enough to hurt, he swells impossibly thicker for a moment before emptying himself inside you.

He shudders, grinding himself deeper as you wince, milking himself inside your body before pulling out and falling onto the bed beside you.

You catch your breath for a moment. Surprised, and grateful that despite there being the edge of violence to his taking you, it wasn’t the brutal, awful experience you were afraid it would be. Considering your station in life, it was quite nice.

“Give me a little while, and I will be ready to take you again.” He turns and presses his lips to your shoulder again.

“Again…? You wish to take me again?” There is clear confusion threaded through your voice, but he laughs, goodnaturedly.

“Oh yes, I have you for this one night, I plan on taking advantage. Did you not enjoy it?” He rests on his elbow, head held in his palm while his other hand skates over your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake as it palms one breast, then the other.

“I enjoyed your fingers, you brought me to climax more than I ever have on my own in a single night.” You curl onto your side towards him, soaking up the warmth of his skin.

“But you did not enjoy my cock?” His hand lands on your hip, holding you there and it’s curiously exciting how much skin he can touch at once.

“It was… a lot.” He laughs, nodding for you to continue. “I liked the fullness of it, but you were very deep. I could feel you in my belly and when you spilled it was intense.” He lets out a groan before pressing forward and stealing another kiss.

“It will feel better, we have to find which position you like best. Which angle you enjoy more.” He pulls you closer, tilting your chin up for another kiss, softer this time.

“What position do you enjoy most of all?” Your hands gravitate to his chest, pressing against it to feel his heart thumping against your palm.

“I am partial to being ridden.” He smiles, lip caught between teeth and heat floods your body to know he is imagining it.

“Why do you favour it?”

“Because I like when a woman takes her pleasure from me, It pleases me, to please her.” You could see it then, his soft eyes staring up in devotion as some faceless woman rides his cock. The longer you think on it, the more that faceless woman starts to resemble you.

“I would have you like that next.” He smiles, and you smile back, nodding.

By the time the sun rises, he has taken you every way you can imagine and your sex is so sore you don’t think you’ll be able to walk without wincing.

When the guards come to take you both back to your respective places, they have to physically pull him away from you, his lips pressed against yours in a goodbye kiss.

“You are the only prize I will ever ask for.” He calls over his shoulder as you smile at him.

For the first time in your life, you are excited about the next games.

Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius #marcus acacius smut #general marcus acacius #general acacius #marcus acacias x reader #gladiator 2 #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius fanfiction #gladiator ii

1K notes · View notes

strawberyz · 3 months ago

Text

:(((

How did I ever forget that??

-Tim

#olea im blowing upu up with my mimd /aff #he looks. so happy. im so ill im not normal #ouh im not okay im not okay i know something NOT SILLY is happening afterwards !!!!!!!!#the way u draw tim tho.........#EVERYBODY CHEER!!!! HAPPY TIM !!!#tim wright #mh tim #marble hornets #mh #afterlife au #slenderverse #ask.png #fan art #fanart #art #REBLOG #its been days i cant stop looking at this resisting the urge to draw him all happy and sillt the femons are LPUD

524 notes · View notes

astraystayyh · 2 years ago

Text

The wedding and the morning after

inspired by that cute twitter trend :,) very soft bang chan fluff. use of wife and husband a lot but they just got married so they get a pass!!!!!

if you guys enjoy reading please leave a reblog or comment it means the world to me <3

Your wedding ceremony with Chan was a simple one. You weren't one for extravagance and neither was he. So you opted for an intimate setting, only inviting your favorite humans in there.

You felt as if everything was more vibrant that day- the colors of the flowers you both hand-picked, the smell of food that wafted through the air, the twinkling lights you had installed because they reminded Chan of your eyes (or so he insisted).

But you knew it had a lot less to do with the decorations, and more with the man you married. Being with Chan was like looking at the world through rose-tinted glasses.

You felt grateful that you were alive because you got to experience being loved by him.

There was music, lots of laughter, and admittedly, tears. You can blame Chan's vows for it. His words rang in your ears throughout the night- how he vowed to love you until his last breath, and long after that.

But he didn't need to make those promises, they were just honorifics. Chan has shown you time and time again that he was in love with you.

You knew by the way he tore down your walls, gently, at your pace, your hand tightly clutched in his. How he deeply cared for you, on your happy days but especially on your saddest.

You and Chan weren't perfect, but you complemented each other like two halves of one heart. You found in him a home, a safe place for you to exist and be loved.

"You are so beautiful", he whispers in your ears while the both of you sway on the dance floor. You could faintly hear the cheers of the boys who were watching you, but you paid no mind to them. All you could focus on was Chan's warm hands on your waist, holding you close.

"So are you", you beam at him. When you looked at Chan, you didn't simply see his beautiful features- his brown eyes, straight nose and plump lips. You saw a warm coffee shop, where you seek refuge on a cold day; you saw a sunset slowly casting down into the sea; you saw a field of tulips stretching into the horizon.

Looking at Chan reminded you of beautiful sceneries, of the smell of earth after the rain, of a hearty soup that fills your insides when you are ill. You saw in him every beautiful feeling you've ever experienced in your life.

"I don't know how I got so lucky", he kisses your forehead gently and you close your eyes, savoring the feel of his lips on your skin.

Chan's forehead kisses held a special place in your heart. You always felt them deep within you- as if he was kissing beyond your skin and into your soul.

"I'm the lucky one", you reply, standing on your tiptoes and pecking his forehead back. Chan blushes at your gesture, eyes crinkling closed like half moons. It made your heart sore, how affected he was by your touch even after four years of dating. You liked to believe you'd be seventy and still a giggling mess around each other.

Chan then twirls you around, your laugh echoing around the venue. He thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you laugh this way for the rest of your lives.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"My feet are killing me", you whine to Chan as he parks in front of your apartment. You chose not to rush into your honeymoon, because you wanted to savor the quiet after your wedding, just the two of you. And you couldn't think of a better place to do so than your apartment.

It wasn't a huge one, but it had a makeshift studio for Chan, and a little balcony where you read. You painted the walls blue together and he bought you plants that you water everyday.

It was messy at times, but it was still your home. You knew that no matter what happened throughout the day, you can leave your worries at the door and head inside into each other's safe embrace.

Chan quickly hops to your side of the car, and opens it for you. He takes your heels off, throwing them into the backseat, before scooping you up bridal style.

"I've been dying to do this on our wedding night", he giggles excitedly and you smile, loosely looping your hands around his neck.

"Well now you can, husband."

"Say it again", he smiles as he leads you up to your apartment.

"My husband", you repeat and he quickly leans down to steal a kiss.

Chan opens the door to your apartment, finally placing you on solid ground. He loosens his black tie and you lean against the wall, admiring the view.

"Like what you see?", he teases and you smile mischievously, "This is what I married you for."

"So you are only with me for my looks?", he pouts. You would have thought he looked so adorable if not for him slowly unbuttoning his white shirt.

"I am", you smirk and suddenly, you are thrown over his shoulder. You laugh as he runs towards the bedroom, with you perched on his back.

He then gently places you down on the bed, caging your body with his arms; any hint of playfulness gone from his eyes. His gaze is so intense, you feel a blush creep up your neck. He notices, of course, and he smiles softly at you. "Is my wife getting shy on me?"

"Shut up", you glare playfully at him, and he grins, "Make me."

"You are so cheesy", you giggle as you grab his tie, pulling him down to meet your lips in a feverish kiss.

°°°°°°°°°°°

"Morning, my love", Chan smiles at you, his hand threading through your hair gently.

"Morning, honey", you smile back, stretching slightly.

"Did you sleep well?", he asks, snuggling closer to you.

"Mhm, like a baby."

"I must have tired you yesterday", he smirks and you glare playfully at him, "Cocky much?"

"And you love it."

You're about to reply when your stomach grumbles loudly. "Is my pretty wife hungry?", he teases and you bite his arm in response.

"I'll take that as a yes", he chuckles, pulling you up with him, "Let's go make you breakfast."

"Make who breakfast?" you singsong and he smiles softly at you. "Make my wife breakfast."

°°°°°°°°°°°°

You are clad in Chan's oversized t-shirt and he's only wearing a pair of black shorts. The view of Chan's back muscles is so enticing you'd almost skip breakfast if you weren't so hungry.

When you are both done cooking, you happily dig into the breakfast while recounting the weddings events- how Hyunjin and Minho got so drunk they ended up confessing their love to each other, how Felix cried during your vows, how Seungmin and Jeongin surprised you with a song cover during your first dance. You can't help but sigh contently at how simple yet loving it felt.

You then wash the dishes while Chan dries them- an easy routine you both fell into as soon as he moved in with you.

You've been married to Chan for a day but you've loved him for what feels like forever.

When the kitchen is clean, you high-five him but he doesn't let your hand go. Instead, he intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing you closer to him.

"I love you", he whispers as his thumb slowly caresses your palm.

"I love you more."

"Impossible."

"But-", Chan silences you with his lips on yours, and you both can't help but smile into the kiss.

When he leans away, he bows down slightly, offering you his hand, "May i have this dance?"

You giggle as you curtsy back, "Yes you may."

Chan twirls you around the kitchen and you feel light as air. You then spin him around and you almost lose your balance, but Chan is there to steady you with a gentle grip.

As you catch your breath, you take a moment to look around you. The kitchen is bathed in warm, golden light, and the aroma of freshly made coffee fills the air. You can't help but wonder what you'd look like to an outsider, waltzing in the kitchen with no music on.

But as you gaze up at your husband, you don't find it in you to care. You've come to learn that with Chan, even the silence can sound like the most enchanting melody.

4K notes · View notes

mrsfancyferrari · 3 days ago

Text

Christmas Ball

Summary: CS55 + fake dating for a Christmas party/ball

Song: Michael Bublé - White Christmas

Author’s note: I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 4.8k

You always found the holidays to be a bittersweet time, a swirling mix of joy and nostalgia that danced through the air like the flurries of snow outside your window. This year, however, felt particularly strange.

The twinkling lights of the city and the festive decorations around your apartment offered a sense of cheer that somehow faded against the backdrop of your best friend Carlos's impending departure from Ferrari.

The air was thick with anticipation, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something big was about to change.

"Carlos, are you sure you want to do this?" You asked, trying to hide your concern behind a playful smirk.

It was the day before the big Christmas party, and Carlos had approached you with an unusual proposition: to be his fake girlfriend for the event.

He leaned back against the wall of your small kitchen, arms crossed, and gave you that charming grin you could never resist.

"Come on, you know the guys at the team will never let me live it down if I show up alone. They've been teasing me for months about being single. I can't go in there and give them the satisfaction."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but chuckle. Carlos was right; the engineers and team members could be relentless. It was as if they took pleasure in reminding him that he was one of the most talented racers in the world but somehow couldn’t manage to keep a girlfriend.

"But a fake girlfriend? Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, your family will be there too. They’ll want to know more about me."

“Exactly! You know them already. You’ll fit right in.” He took a step closer, and his expression turned earnest.

“Please, I can’t do this alone. It’ll just be for one night. Just act like we’re a couple, and we’ll get through it. I promise you won’t regret it.”

You hesitated, glancing around your kitchen as if the utensils might offer some clarity. “What if they ask us about our ‘relationship’? You know, like how we met or something?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “We’ll figure it out as we go. I trust you. And you’re good at this kind of stuff. Remember that time we pretended to be a couple at my cousin’s wedding?”

“That was one time! And we were twelve!” you exclaimed, laughing at the memory of young Carlos and you dressed up in ill-fitting suits and dresses, giggling as you attempted to dance.

“Exactly! And we pulled it off!” His voice was filled with enthusiasm. “You’re the only one I trust to do this with me. Plus, it’ll be fun! Just think of it as an adventure.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his infectious excitement. Deep down, you knew you would never say no to him. The truth was, despite the outrageous nature of the request, you found the idea of pretending to be his girlfriend strangely appealing.

Maybe it was the excitement of the party itself or perhaps the thrill of being in such close proximity to someone you cared about so deeply.

“Fine. But only for one night. And don’t think you can make me wear a silly outfit or anything.”

Carlos clapped his hands together, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Deal! You’ll look amazing no matter what you wear. I'll pick you up, and we’ll go in style.”

The night of the party arrived, and you stood in front of your full-length mirror, adjusting the shimmering red dress that hugged your curves perfectly.

The color reflected the team’s colors, a deep and vibrant shade that made you feel festive but elegant. The twinkling lights decorating the streets outside seemed to echo the excitement thrumming in your heart. It was a night meant for glamour, and you couldn’t wait to step into that world—especially since Carlos would be your partner in crime.

You glanced at the clock. He was late, and you felt the familiar flutter of nerves in your stomach. Was it silly to feel anxious? This was supposed to be fun.

You had agreed to play the role of Carlos's fake girlfriend for the evening, a little charade to help him navigate the intricacies of a farewell party filled with fans, colleagues, and those who were eager to get a word in about his future.

Just as you were beginning to worry, you heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. Your heart skipped a beat. Moments later, Carlos knocked on your door, and the sound reverberated through your chest.

“Hey! Ready to steal the show?” he called out, his voice filled with that familiar charm that always made you smile.

You opened the door to find him standing there in a crisp black suit, his dark hair styled just right, and his smile wide enough to melt anyone’s heart.

The sight of him took your breath away. “Wow,” he said, eyes widening as he took you in. “You look incredible.”

You felt your cheeks flush at his compliment, the warmth creeping up as you looked down at your dress, then back up at him. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Carlos stepped inside and took your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. “Shall we?”

He led you to his car, opening the door and helping you in with a grace that made your heart flutter. The drive to the venue was filled with light banter about the party.

“I can’t believe how many people are going to be there just for me,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly with stress.

You squeezed his hand, trying to ground him. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right beside you,” you assured, your voice steady.

“Thanks, cariño,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. “I picked the right girlfriend,” he joked, and you laughed, the sound mingling with the excitement in the air.

When you finally arrived at the event, Carlos helped you out of the car, shielding you from the flashing lights of the paparazzi. “Let’s go and show them how it’s done,” he said, offering his arm.

You looped yours through his, the gesture feeling surprisingly natural, as if you had done this a thousand times before.

As you entered the building, the atmosphere enveloped you like a warm embrace. A crowd of important people milled around, dressed in their finest, and the air was filled with laughter and conversation. You felt a mixture of nerves and excitement; it was hard to believe you were part of this glamorous world for the night.

Carlos greeted guests with confidence, exchanging pleasantries and smiles, and you stayed close by his side, waiting for the moment he would introduce you or for someone to inquire about who you were.

“Carlos!” a voice called, and you turned to see Charles approach, his face lighting up at the sight of Carlos. “Mate, we’re going to miss you.”

Carlos laughed, patting his friend on the back. “Thank you! I’m excited for the new adventure, but I’m really going to miss you guys.”

“Who’s this?” Charles asked, turning to you with curiosity.

Carlos glanced at you, a playful grin on his face. “This is my girlfriend. We’ve been together for a few months now.”

You felt a slight thrill at being introduced, even if it was under the guise of a relationship that was more a performance than reality. “Nice to meet you,” you said, offering your hand.

“Likewise! Good to see Carlos has someone like you by his side.” Charles winked and moved on, leaving you both with a hint of laughter in the air.

Carlos leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “That was easier than I expected.”

You smiled, “Just wait until the press gets a hold of this. They’ll eat it up.”

“I know,” he said, a hint of worry crossing his features. “I just hope it doesn’t get too out of hand.”

You straightened your shoulders, ready to support him. “We’ll handle it together. I’ve got your back.”

The night progressed, and you moved from one conversation to another, Carlos introducing you to various people, and you feigned familiarity, playing your role well. There were moments of laughter, shared stories, and even some touching tributes from his friends that made your heart swell with pride for him.

“You’re doing great,” Carlos said, glancing at you with a reassuring smile. His dark eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and nerves. The way he looked at you made your heart race a little faster.

“I’m just trying to remember my lines,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “What was it again? ‘I’m so proud of my boyfriend’ or ‘Carlos is going to take the racing world by storm’?”

“Definitely the second one,” he laughed. “But you can’t forget the part where you look impressed by my driving skills.”

“Of course, I’ll be your biggest fan tonight,” you replied, adjusting the elegant dress you wore.

Finally, you spotted them. A cluster of warm, welcoming faces, all gathered around a beautifully decorated table. Carlos’s mother, Reyes, a woman with an infectious laugh and a penchant for elegant scarves, was the first to notice your approach. Her eyes lit up as she stood, arms wide open, ready to welcome her son.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, pulling Carlos into a tight embrace. “We’ve been waiting for you! And you must be the lovely girl I’ve heard so much about.”

“Yes, I’m—” you started, but Carlos cut in.

“This is my girlfriend,” he said with an air of confidence, placing a gentle hand on your lower back. “You remember what I told you, right?”

“Of course! It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” Reyes said, turning her attention to you. You couldn’t help but feel her warmth radiating towards you. “Carlos has told us all about you, and I must say, he’s been smitten ever since he met you.”

“Mamá, come on,” Carlos chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as a slight blush crept across his cheeks. “You make it sound like I’m a lovesick puppy.”

You stepped forward, extending your hand for a handshake, but Reyes pulled you into an embrace instead.

The sincerity in her touch gave you a sense of comfort. “We are so excited for you both! We want to hear everything.”

Carlos’s father, a distinguished man with salt-and-pepper hair, stepped forward next. “And what is your name, my dear?”

“It’s Y/N,” you replied, a bit shyly.

“Ah, Y/N,” he repeated, his gaze warm. “Carlos has been lucky to have you by his side. A good partner is invaluable in this world.”

“Thank you, sir,” you replied, feeling the weight of his words. You felt a mix of pride and anxiety; you wanted to impress them but also felt like you were stepping into a role you hadn’t fully prepared for.

Just then, Carlos’s sister, Blanca, chimed in, her curly hair bouncing as she approached. “So, how did you two meet?”

“We’ve actually known each other since childhood,” you explained, your voice steadier now.

“Oh, that’s where I’ve seen you before! You two were always together when you were little,” Reyes added, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Yeah,” Carlos chuckled, his arm subtly wrapping around your waist. “We’ve been through a lot together. It only makes sense for her to be here tonight.”

As the evening progressed, you found yourself in a whirlwind of conversations and laughter, with Carlos’s family treating you like one of their own.

Each kind word from them built your confidence, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being a little out of place.

Later, as the string quartet shifted to a slower melody, Carlos leaned closer to you, his voice low and conspiratorial. “You’re doing amazing,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “I think my family is starting to really like you.”

“Thanks,” you replied, a little breathless. “But you’re the one who’s charming them.”

He chuckled, and you noticed the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, a sign of genuine happiness. “I’m just glad you’re here with me. It would be a lot more nerve-wracking without you.”

You glanced at him, and for a moment, it felt as if the world outside had faded away. You both stood on the periphery of the dance floor, the couples moving gracefully in the dim light, laughter mingling with the sweet strains of music.

“Carlos,” you said softly, “are you really okay with this whole… fake girlfriend thing?”

His expression turned serious, the laughter in his eyes replaced with a warmth that made your heart race. “Honestly? It was supposed to be just a simple arrangement, but I’m enjoying this way more than I thought I would.”

A pang of hope swelled in your chest, but you quickly brushed it aside. “Me too,” you admitted. “But it’s complicated, right? I mean, you’re about to leave for Ferrari, and I—”

He interrupted, his tone earnest. “But I don’t want it to end. Not like this.”

Before you could respond, his sister Blanca waved you over. “Y/N! Come dance with us!”

Carlos gave you a gentle push toward the dance floor. “You should go; they’re waiting for you.”

Reluctantly, you stepped onto the floor, finding a place among Carlos’s family. They welcomed you with open arms, laughter and joy surrounding you as you twirled and swayed to the music.

You felt the weight of your worries lift, if only for a moment, and lost yourself in the rhythm of the night.

You danced freely, letting the music guide your movements. You could feel Bianca’s infectious energy beside you, and together, you lost yourselves in the moment, giggling and twirling under the stars.

From a distance, Carlos watched, his heart swelling as he observed you. You were radiant, carefree, and completely lost in the music. He leaned against a wooden pillar, taking in the sight, when a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“You picked a good one,” said his father, standing beside him with an approving nod. Carlos turned to his dad, a hint of surprise etched on his face.

“Yeah, she’s amazing, isn’t she?” Carlos replied, trying to mask the hint of admiration in his voice. It was true; you had a spark that drew people in, and Carlos felt lucky just to know you.

“Do you really like her?” his dad asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going to need a good woman by your side when you start this new chapter. You can’t always be the charming bachelor.”

Carlos chuckled lightly, the laughter fading as he thought about the question. Did he like you? It was more than that. You were a friend, but there was something else simmering beneath the surface—a warmth that ignited every time you smiled at him or when you laughed at his jokes.

“Yeah, I do,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s complicated.”

“Life is complicated, son. You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just enjoy the moment,” his father advised, clapping him on the shoulder before drifting away to chat with other guests.

Carlos returned his gaze to the dance floor, watching you sway with Bianca. The two of you were the picture of joy. You glanced over, catching his eye again, and this time, you blew him a kiss, teasingly.

He couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head, his heart skipping a beat.

“Your sister is very energetic,” you said, returning to Carlos after the dance. You brushed a few errant strands of hair from your face, a little breathless from the whirlwind of dancing.

Carlos chuckled, his deep voice reverberating within you. “That’s one way to put it. She’s been practicing her dance moves for weeks, all to show off at my farewell party.”

“Looks like she’s succeeding,” you replied, glancing back at Bianca, who was now attempting an exaggerated salsa move with one of the other guests.

The sight made you laugh. You could hardly keep up with her energy, but you loved how infectious her spirit was.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the party transitioned from laughter to a more subdued warmth.

You felt a slight shiver, not from the cool evening air, but from the warmth radiating between you, a connection that felt both exciting and unnerving.

“So,” he began, his expression shifting slightly as you settled beside him on the bench, “how does it feel to be my fake girlfriend for a night?”

You paused, considering your response. “Weird but natural, if you know what I mean.”

You glanced back at Bianca, who had just twirled around, her skirt flaring out, and you couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

“Natural? Really?” Carlos raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What’s so natural about pretending to be my girlfriend?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t know, it just feels… comfortable? We’ve known each other long enough. It’s not like I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.”

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I feel it too.” He leaned against the wall, folding his arms.

The way the dim lights of the party cast shadows across his face made him look almost ethereal, and your heart did a little flip that you tried to ignore.

“Okay, but you have to admit this is ridiculous,” he continued, still grinning. “We’re just two friends pretending to be in love. What if someone takes us seriously?”

You took a sip of your drink, feeling the coolness slide down your throat. “Who cares? It’s just for tonight. And honestly, I think it might be a little fun.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Fun, huh? So you’re saying you wouldn’t mind me throwing an arm around your shoulder, or maybe… a kiss on the cheek?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. “What if I’m a terrible kisser?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “I’m sure you’d be fine,” you shot back, teasingly. “And if not, I’ll just call it an act.”

“An act that could end badly,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I suppose I could get used to having my ‘girlfriend’ on my arm tonight.”

As the evening wore on, the laughter and chatter of the party swirled around you. You found yourself slipping into the role with surprising ease.

You chatted with Carlos about everything from childhood memories to your mutual love for terrible rom-coms.

With each passing moment, the line between fake and real began to blur, making you acutely aware of the warmth emanating from him, the way he always seemed to be in tune with your thoughts, the subtle glances that lingered just a second too long.

“Look, we need to act like a couple now,” Carlos said suddenly, his tone shifting as he glanced at a group of partygoers who were eyeing you both. “Hold my hand.”

You raised an eyebrow, taken aback. “What? Now?”

“Just do it!” He reached for your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. You took a deep breath but found yourself lacing your fingers with his. It felt… nice. Comforting, even.

“Wow,” you murmured, unable to hide your surprise. “This is weird.”

“Weird but natural, right?” he quipped, echoing your earlier words. You shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted.

Carlos led you into the crowd, and you could feel the eyes of the party on you. The thrill of being ‘together’ ignited a strange mix of excitement and nervousness in your stomach.

“Just follow my lead,” he says, his voice low and full of playful confidence. You nod, unsure of what to expect.

As you reach the dance floor, the music shifts to a slower rhythm. The lights dim slightly, creating an intimate atmosphere. Carlos’s hand glides to the small of your back, guiding you closer.

You can feel the heat radiating from his body as he locks eyes with you, a spark of something electric passing between you.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s just dancing.”

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, and the world around you blurs into a sea of motion. It’s just you and him, swaying together. You feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the steady beat of his heart mirroring your own.

“See? Not so bad, right?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Maybe,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. You’re both smiling now, caught up in the moment. “But I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Neither can I,” he admits, his expression softening. “But it feels right, doesn’t it?”

Your bodies move in sync, flowing with the music as if it were a language only you two understood. His eyes search yours, searching for a sign, a signal that this isn’t just an act. In this crowded room, the two of you have created a bubble, a space where everything else fades away.

Just then, he dips you, his grip firm yet gentle, and your heart leaps into your throat. You trust him, allowing your body to lean back, supported completely by him.

You can’t help but laugh breathlessly. “Okay, you’re showing off now!”

“Maybe I am,” he grins, bringing you back up slowly. Your faces are so close, your lips almost touching. The air around you thickens, and suddenly, you’re acutely aware of every detail—the warmth of his breath, the way his gaze flickers to your lips and back up to your eyes.

“Carlos,” you start, your voice barely a whisper, the question hanging between you two.

“I know,” he says softly, the playfulness fading. “I feel it too. But… this is fun, right? Just for tonight?”

You swallow hard, the tension rising in your chest. “Yeah, just for tonight,” you confirm, but inside, a part of you is desperate for more.

His hand moves to the small of your back again, pulling you closer, and the world around you fades even further. You lose track of time, caught in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his presence.

"Do we have to go back?" you murmured, your gaze lingering on his warm brown eyes, the softness of his expression making your heart flutter.

Carlos chuckled softly, the sound sending a warm thrill through you. "I mean, I’m not the host, but I think we’re kind of required to. Speeches and all that," he replied, reluctantly breaking the closeness between you.

He took a deep breath, his fingers lingering on your waist for just a moment longer before he stepped back.

You nodded, feeling a mix of reluctance and excitement. You had entered this arrangement as a favor—a way to help Carlos navigate the complexities of family expectations.

But now, with every shared glance and playful touch, the line between pretend and real began to blur.

As Carlos's father stood up to give his speech, you could see the pride etched on his face, the way his chest swelled with love as he looked at his son.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice rich and steady. "Today, we gather to celebrate not just Carlos’s achievements, but the man he’s become. He has faced challenges with determination, embraced every opportunity with an open heart, and today, I stand before you, proud to call him my son."

A wave of emotion washed over you as you listened. You raised your glass with everyone else, your heart swelling with a mix of pride and an unfamiliar warmth.

Carlos caught your eye, and in that moment, you felt a connection that transcended the confines of your agreement. You were more than just a façade.

You were becoming someone significant in his life.

“To Carlos!” everyone toasted, their voices a harmonious blend of joy and affection. You clinked your glass against his, the sound a sweet reminder of your bond, however unconventional it may have been.

As the applause died down and conversations picked up once more, Carlos turned to you, his expression shifting from celebratory to serious.

"I know this is all a bit pretend, but…” He hesitated, searching your eyes for understanding, the sincerity of his tone causing your heart to race. “I don’t want it to end when the party does."

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. The party was a façade, sure, but the emotions swirling between you felt real. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I mean, this—us,” he gestured between the two of you, “it’s more than just an arrangement for me. I enjoy being around you. You make me feel… I don’t know, alive?”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he looked genuinely vulnerable. “I don’t want you to go back to being just Carlos’s friend or fake girlfriend. I want to see where this can really go.”

Your heart raced at his words, the gravity of the moment pressing down on you. “Carlos, we’ve always had chemistry, haven’t we? It’s just been… complicated.”

“Complicated,” he echoed, his gaze intense. “But it doesn’t have to be.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, breath hitching in your throat.

Carlos leaned in slightly, his voice low, “I mean, maybe we don’t have to pretend anymore. Maybe we could explore whatever this is between us.”

The thought sent a thrill through you, but fear followed closely behind. “What if it gets complicated again?” you asked, trembling slightly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, a hint of uncertainty crossing his features. “But isn’t it worth finding out? I don’t want to leave without knowing what this could be. What we could be.”

You felt the warmth of his hand brush against yours, a spark igniting where your fingers met. The warmth was both electrifying and comforting, and without thinking, you leaned closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Okay,” you whispered, your breath catching as his thumb traced over your knuckles. “Let’s see where this goes.”

His eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and excitement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, unable to suppress your own smile. “But no salsa dancing. I can’t handle that level of energy.”

Carlos laughed, the sound echoing into the hall. “Deal. I’ll save the salsa for my sister.” He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. “But I can offer something much better.”

You held your breath as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours softly. It was tentative at first, as if he was gauging your response. You kissed him back, the warmth of the fire fading into the background as everything else fell away.

In that moment, everything felt right. The chaos of the party, the looming specter of his departure for Ferrari, and the uncertain future melted away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in a bubble of shared hope and newfound possibility.

As you pulled back, a breathless smile crept across your face. “So, how does it feel to have a real girlfriend?” you teased, feeling a surge of joy.

Carlos grinned, his eyes sparkling. “I think I could get used to this.”

“Let’s just enjoy the moment,” you said softly, echoing his father’s words.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” he agreed, and for the first time, you felt like everything might just be okay after all. . . . .

169 notes · View notes

dollyhyuckii · 24 days ago

Text

PRESS START TO LOVE ——— !⋆୨୧˚ (엔시티 드림)

🤎 ⋆୨୧˚ gamer boyfriend mark ⋆୨୧˚

in which… mark’s gaming night turns into a playful challenge with you, he shows you that spending time together is the real win. — 표시 x fem!reader ⋆୨୧˚ fluff/full fic ⋆୨୧˚ established relationship wc 834 • pet names such as baby!, made with love by autum! ⋆୨୧˚

⋆୨୧˚ authors note - likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated, everything is in lowercase on purpose, enjoy reading ⋆୨୧˚

marks room always had a familiar mess of tangled wires, glowing monitors, and a pile of discarded hoodies in the corner of his room, you sat cross legged on the floor, as you watched him as he leaned forward in his gaming chair, his eyes locked on the screen

“okay, this is it babe,” he said, his voice filled with tight concentration. “seriously baby, im about to destroy this guy”

you raised an eyebrow, resting your chin on your palm, “didn’t you say that last time love?, right before he destroyed you?”

mark swigged his chair to face you, his lips tugged into a grin “baby!, your supposed to be cheering me on, not trying to pray on my down fall!”

you let out a small chuckle, looking at him “what’s more motivating then giving my boyfriend a little tough love?”

mark groaned but he turned back around to the screen, his fingers moved over the keyboard, and you couldn’t help but be just a bit mesmerized, mark always looked so serious when he was gaming, his brows furrowed and his lips pursed in that adorable way that always made you want to tease him just a bit more

“alright, he’s down to half of his health baby” mark announces, his voice rising with a bit of excitement “i’ve got this baby.. no sweat”

you rolled your eyes but you leaned forward, watching as his character darted across the screen, as he dogged attacks that were coming his way “you better win, or im taking over” you warned him

mark laughed, glancing at you briefly “you?, take over?, baby.. you walk right into his attacks and rage quit in like 5 seconds”

“oh?, so you wanna bet?” you challenged, as you scooted closer to him

beofre mark could even respond, the screen lit up with a dramatic explosion, a sound effect blared through the speaker, and mark threw his hands in the air

“lets go!, baby i did it!” he shouted, spinning his chair around to face you, his grin was so wide it had you chuckling to yourself. “i told you i’d destroy him!”

“finally” you teased him, but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling

mark then reached out and grabbed your hand, as he pulled you up from the floor and into his lap, you yelled in surprise but you quickly settled against him, as his arms wrapped around your waist to hold you closer to him

“alright, my little gamer yeah?,” he said, his voice dropping into that playfully tone that always had your heart fluttering”you talk big gene baby, but lets see what you’ve got yeah?”

he reached out for the controller, handing it to you with that smug look on his face “your turn”

you hesitated for a bit, before taking the controller from him “mark, you know im terrible at this” you sigh out

“you’ll be fine baby..” he said as his chin rested on your shoulder as he guided your hands to the buttons “ill coach you through it, were a team baby, you know this right?”

you couldn’t argue with that, so you took a deep breath and you started the game, mark stayed close to you, his voice soft in your ear as he gave you tips and encouragement

“see baby, nice dodge!, your getting the hang of it”

“careful baby- oh, that was close, your doing good”

by the time you made it halfway through the level, you were laughing so hard that you could barely even concentrate. mark continued his constant commentary, mixed with dramatic gaps and exaggerating reactions, they were more entertaining then the game itself

when your character finally died with a fiery explosion, you groaned and dropped the controller “see?, mark i told i was terrible”

mark chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple “you weren’t terrible, you were great. besides it’s not about winning, it’s about having fun together”

you turned your head to look at him, your heard warmed with the sincerity in his eyes “you’re such a dork, you know that?”

“but you love it baby” he replied with a cheeky grin

you couldn’t argue with that, because you most surely did

the night went on, as the two of you were curled up on the couch, mark pulled out his phone to show you a picture he had taken earlier of you concentrating on the game, your tongue sticking out slightly

“look at my pretty gamer girl” he teased you, laughing when you tried to grab the phone from him

“delete that!”

“never” he said, holding the phone out of your reach “im thinking about framing it baby”

you groaned, but you couldn’t hold your small smile creeping up, mark always knew how to make you laugh, even when he was driving you insane, and as he pulled you closer to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, you couldn’t help but feel like you were winning the most important game of all, life with him

384 notes · View notes

simdertalia · 6 months ago

Text

🫧🐚 ACNH Tidepool Set 🦐🫧

Here is the winner of July's poll, the tidepool set! There are lots and lots of creatures, some rocks, plants, and other items to add even more to your aquariums!

Sims 4, Base game compatible | 59 items | As always, extra swatches added by me! hope you enjoy! 💗

Type “acnh vacation" into the search query in build mode to find quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing the title and it will appear.

As always, please let me know if you have any issues!

📁 Download all or pick & choose (SFS, No Ads): HERE

📁 Alt Mega Download (still no ads): HERE

📁 Download on Patreon

Will be public on July 27th, 2024 💗 Midnight CET

Happy Simming! ✨ Some of my CC is early access. If you like my work, please consider supporting me (all support helps me with managing my chronic pain/illness):

★ Patreon 🎉 ❤️ |★ Ko-Fi ☕️ ❤️ ★ Instagram📷

Thank you for reblogging ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@sssvitlanz @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters @coffee-cc-finds @itsjessicaccfinds @gamommypeach @stargazer-sims-finds @khelga68 @suricringe @vaporwavesims @mystictrance15 @moonglitchccfinds @xlost-in-wonderlandx @jbthedisabledvet

*Deco sims by starrysimsie, Insanity, & Lazysimmies (airport deco sim 9) | Lazysimmies (christmas market #11) | Akuiyumi (Vendors #01b) | xldkx (Coachella set 2, cheering 1)

-Bucket CC -Flippers Decor CC

The rest of my CC

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊💗

#s4cc #ts4cc #sims 4 aquarium #sims 4 tidepool #sims 4 seaweed #sims 4 shrimp #sims 4 clam #sims 4 oyster #sims 4 pearl #sims 4 vacation #sims 4 hermit crab #sims 4 starfish #sims 4 rocks #sims 4 driftwood #sims 4 nature decor #sims 4 sign #sims 4 knife #sims 4 maxis match #sims 4 mermaid

263 notes · View notes

rassvetsky · 2 years ago

Note

would literally lose my fucking mind if you wrote carmy like touch starved, idk maybe everyone is staying after to celebrate something and he’s dragging you into his office to eat you out with absolutely zero shame because he needs it so bad

your wish is my lifelong quest i love you, hope i did it at least some justice loml

Carry You Away With Me

carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader

He looked sheepish for a moment, lips curling into a grin for another split second before returning to his natural expression, eyes finding yours and locking you into his gaze. "Do you think anyone would notice if I took you elsewhere right now?"

[4k] | chef ill be honest with you this is just porn, needy!carmy (he's fucking adorable), office sex if that's even a term, established relationship, cunningulus, unprotected sex, cum-play. my apologies to the church

reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.

It was around 11 when you returned to the restaurant with a bottle of champagne cradled in your arms, watching as Gary and Tina pushed a few tables together to make a bigger one for the rest. Eating together wasn't a rare occurrence, but it often only happened an hour before service in the morning— dinners were mostly had at home or skipped altogether, depending on the importance one put into their health. But tonight called for an after-hours get-together, one that Sydney and Marcus pushed for when Ebraheim showed up in the morning with the latest issue of Gastronomica, featuring a very familiar name this time around— Carmen Berzatto.

"You know— I bet you can like, make it to a Vogue issue sometime later on, too."

"That's not exactly food-related."

"I'm just saying, dream high and—"

The few clinks of a spoon against the glass cut Fak right off and Carmen made a mental note to thank god for that later on, his gaze lifting from the long, full table that everyone was surrounding to the source of the sound; the now-empty champagne glass that Richie held.

"Can we all take a moment to stop stuffing our faces with this whatever-the-fuck it is to congratulate my cousin right here?" he spoke up, bringing a smile to your lips as you reached for Carmen's hand from under the table and muttered out "chou à la crème", another dish that Marcus had been experimenting with lately. A short chuckle left Carmen's lips when he vaguely heard what you said, and he gave your hand a firm, appreciative squeeze before rubbing his thumb along the back of your palm. "Gastronomica isn't just any magazine. I think it's supposed to be one of the good ones, like—"

"—the Vogue of food!"

"Maybe! Who knows, anyway— really, I'm proud of this mess of a man and you all should be, too." and maybe this was the most affection that Richie could whip out in public, but it was more than enough— because despite his hate for having the spotlight directly on him, Carmen was currently busy offering a smile to Richie, which the other reciprocated shortly before sitting back down, his quiet little hum of affection drowned out by the mutterings of 'cheers' along with the clink of everyone's glasses.

Proud was an understatement for this little dysfunctional found-family.

But you knew Carmen, you knew that he'd much rather skip on the compliments and pats to the shoulder; and you were way too sure that he'd need a moment to himself sooner or later. That moment came almost fifteen minutes after, when everyone split themselves into a few groups of completely different conversations, scooped up chocolate sauce and cream and small pieces of the delicate pastry got left behind on the empty plates— you felt Carmy's fingers wrapping around your upper thigh, concealed by the dimmed out lights and the table.

"S'up?" you returned your attention to him upon feeling his fingers tapping along to some nonexistent rhythm on your clothed skin, not too invested in the story Richie was busy telling everybody with the loudest voice he could muster to begin with.

"Elsewhere?"

"Not too far, jus' my office. For a couple of minutes at most." he leaned in closer to your ear just so you could hear him over the 2012's pop playlist Manny whipped out earlier, a completely mesmerizing turn of events when he started singing along to a random Katy Perry song— but that leaning closer action proved Carmen to be just another self-saboteur because he was feeling specifically out of place all day and to feel your perfume so close was a pull with a force out of this world. He couldn't pull back away then, couldn't return to his own chair and you had no choice but to push him away manually. "I promise."

"Any ulterior motives I should be aware of?" you grinned, letting your fingers curl right over his own on your thigh— and making a mental note to ease him into the habit of using hand moisturizers regularly sometime, upon the roughed up feel of his skin.

"You wound me, baby." his expression seemed to linger over offense, but his eyes told a completely different story; and before you knew it, he was pushing his chair back to get up, patting Gary's shoulder on his way to the back of house, a momentary turn of his head just so he could silently tell you to follow with his eyes.

And that, you did, despite the raised eyebrows of Richie's that you met along the way.

The kitchen smelled like a different kind of citrus, one that only belonged in dishwashing detergents as you maneuvered through the stations, cleaned up from the day's worth of filth. From your peripheral vision, you noticed Carmen reaching behind to undo the strings of his navy apron, leaving out the top string that he'd have to pull over his head until you could catch up and he could get to the office. His shirt was, again, as pristine as ever and it was a work of magic how he managed to come back home with a perfectly clean white t-shirt each day, if not for a few little drops here and there.

Finally, he pushed open the door of his office for you and you stepped in, finding your way to his desk in the darkness to flip the switch of the small light that illuminated the paperwork mostly. When your eyes found him again, the apron was long gone— tucked away in a corner, folded, although not so neatly. "Happy now?"

Instead of a reply, he just plopped down on the old, squeaky chair by the desk, thighs spread and arms wide open to make space for you. You took the offer right away, seating yourself on one of his thighs but still balancing yourself on your feet too, in order to not just dump your whole body weight on him and potentially numb out his leg. He couldn't care less, as he wrapped himself around you tightly and pulled you closer. "I don't really give a shit about Gastronomica."

"I figured," you mumbled against the material of his shirt, lungs filling in with a scent that only he could carry— a surprisingly pleasant mix of cigarettes, sweat, and gravy. It belonged to him, at least. "When's the last time you gave a shit about anyone's opinion outside of here, anyway?"

A soft hum left his lips, one that feigned agreement— but he wasn't paying much attention to what you've been saying to begin with, mind all muddied with specific moments in time that included you. Come to think of it, he'd been like this all day, even when Richie jokingly smacked him across the face with the magazine or when Tina elbowed him while he was trying to explain why she had to strain the mixture twice to get a flowing consistency— on the back of his mind, there was always you; always the lack of time he got to spend with you when the rush hour got too much to bear and he couldn't bring himself to lift an arm when he came back home to you.

When was the last time he properly touched you, took his time to memorize all the little ridges and beauty spots across your body, he couldn't remember.

So as you spoke, listing out all the reasons why he should be proud of himself for all the accomplishments, Carmen's arm curled around your waist and his fingers found your thighs again, the warmth of his palm seeping through the material of your leggings and from the way they teased upwards, you knew where this was going. "... that you managed to turn— are you not listening?"

His smile was so smug that you wanted to either kiss, or slap him. "Not really. But go on."

"Carmy, if you actually think that I'll do anything non-churchy with you here while everyone's literally twenty feet away, you're so wrong." you breathed out, because that's all you could do when his lips ghosted over the side of yours, before trailing down to where your jawline met your neck. He only hummed as a reply, clearly not giving a shit about your opinion either at that moment— but to say that you weren't enjoying the attention would be a blatant lie.

His fingertips traced the seams outlining your underwear through the extra layer of fabric while his lips latched to your neck, finally, with his warm breath hitting against the sensitive skin and the usual wet nature of his kisses leaving behind a glistening spot of adoration. You leaned into it, rather shamelessly— legs parting and fingers carding through the locks on the nape of his neck, and that only encouraged him further, causing him to whisper out a curse and a few sloppy words of praise. "Just let me, hm? Please?"

The sense of desperation in his tone was enough to push back any words of disagreement that you could blurt out at that moment. You knew you had to power through, it would be so embarrassing and disrespectful to let him have his way with you right here, while everyone else was still at the FOH— but the way his palm covered your clothed core and his fingertips teased the slight outline of your slit, all while his pretty lips were oh so busy whispering absolute filth in your ear was slowly taking away all the care you had in the world. "Carm— not a good idea."

"You weren't saying that last week, right here," two weeks ago, to be exact, but you couldn't blame him for not being able to tell time apart. "Had to cover your mouth and all, s'loud for me—"

"You're getting carried away." you chuckled, the deepest of breaths still not enough for the capacity of your lungs as you tugged on his locks slightly, prying him off of your skin just so you could get a look at him.

"Let me carry you away with me. Please, fuck— I can't think of anything else when you're on my mind." he pulled away a little from your neck, eyes of pristine skies staring right at your soul with the expression of a kicked puppy— he knew exactly how to get his way when he was miserable like that. His fingers were still against your heat, expecting permission. "Ten minutes only, just let me touch you."

You could recognize that tone, that incurability way too well— it was often reserved for nights shared between hushed whispers of promises, where he was too needy to form a single thought and all he could do was to cover your body with his and curl onto you, to feel your warmth against himself and to be one body and one soul for an hour. Uncommon in nature, even rarer to take place in a room that he reserved for professional affairs only— but the heart wants what it wants.

To his surprise, you suddenly pushed your lips against his— letting his fever take over you as well, with your hands clutching onto his shoulders and hair. You could hear the slight groan escaping his lips when his fingers breached under the tight waistband of your leggings, pushing the material down slightly with the bend of his wrist before turning his hand a little to tug it all downwards, urging you up on your feet. You got up from where you were seated, now standing between his legs with your back bent just so your lips would be on his, but he broke the kiss with a smile that took over when he finally pulled down both articles of clothing at the same time. Your back straightened when he managed to push them both down to your ankles, your hands on his shoulders to help with your balance as you stepped out of them, feeling his moist lips over your abdomen for a second before he pushed you backwards slightly, towards the desk.

He took that momentary advantage to get up on his feet and pin you right in between his own body and the desk, hands blindly pushing the loose folders to the side. You felt too exposed when his palms gripped the underside of your thighs just to prop you up on the desk, lips finding and panting against yours, a clear indication of his need seeping through the way he tugged and nibbled before his tongue found its way to caress yours.

There was nothing nice about it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care— not when he whispered your name against the plush of your lips so sweetly when your fist closed around his hair, not when he didn't even know what to do with his hands; grabbing, fondling at every inch of your skin that he could reach shakily. He pulled you flush against his body, letting you get a feel of the harsh dark denim against your bare center and you had to bite into his lower lip to stay quiet, ultimately earning a groan from him when his hands slipped under your shirt.

"Bear," you whispered out, his lips chasing yours when you pulled away to speak— which made you chuckle quietly, as he looked at you again. "Ten minutes."

"Ten minutes," he parroted, the usually wide eyes of his now hooded, pupils blown out as if he was looking right at the sun. When you reached in to kiss him again, you couldn't catch him fast enough— he was already holding onto your thighs to crouch down, looking up at you with a Cheshire grin when you spread your legs a little further apart, a force of habit.

Leaning back on your palms against the desk as much as the cramped space could allow, you took a deep breath— but it wasn't enough to prepare you for what came next when his tongue trailed a bold line across your slit, spreading your folds apart gently. It was a pleasant routine, one that you never quite got used to; because when he was down on his knees with his tongue tracing abstract shapes across your clit in a teasing manner, it was all about you and to think that a guy who often rushed things and went through life at a 2x pace would slow down just to put all of his attention on your pleasure only was more delightful than any compliment one could attain.

Carmen's fingertips were perhaps digging into the skin of your thighs a bit too hard, but could you possibly complain? The tip of his tongue dipped between your folds to spread your essence upwards, a mix of his saliva and your wetness covering your clit when he closed his lips around it and sucked— letting out a blissed groan, one that he'd scold you for if you were the culprit. You could only imagine how hard he must've been at that moment, he was always a sucker for situations like this, with the thrill of doing something so forbidden, right where he could be caught and your taste on his tongue, thighs on either side of his shoulders.

Imagining it didn't help your situation at all, it was hard to focus on one coherent thought when he kept flicking his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves but you forced through— with the thought of the blunt tip of his length all flushed and leaking in your palm, curses leaving his soft lips whenever your fingers got a bit too tight around the girth. He liked it when you put your focus there, tip of your tongue tracing the slit and leaving kisses over it while the rest of your palm jerked him off— firm and slow.

And you'd always let your lips stray when he got close, deciding to suddenly bite into the skin of his inner thighs or to lightly trace his perineum with your tongue, just to have him reduced to a writhing, whining mess with not enough air to survive in his lungs. He'd spill onto your fingers and you'd clean him up right away, moving your way upwards with wet little kisses until you reached his lips. And he was one dirty fucker because tasting himself on you when you kissed him all sloppily was probably one of his favorite things in the world.

Drowned out in all the thoughts, you didn't notice how close you were until your thighs were shaking around his shoulders, and he finally added his fingers into the mix then— his middle and ring fingers easily breaching through, grazing all of your sensitive spots from the inside. You had to press your palm against your mouth to not let a sound then, when your climax finally hit you, and you'd probably slide right off the table with how quaky your whole body was at that moment if it wasn't for Carmen's strong grip on your body, holding you right where you belong.

The position was a bit merciless on his legs so far but he made it up to his feet again, giving you a light peck on your lips before his fingers found his mouth, his tongue circling the digits to clean them up as he stared right at you, into your soul. He pulled them out with a slight pop, and licked his lips clean. "How long did we take?"

"I don't know," you panted out. "I was busy imagining the way you come."

His light laughter brought a tender, yet bittersweet ache to your heart. "Fuck, you get off to that?" and you could tell him all about just how beautiful he was, and how much it turned you on to see him blissed out in pleasure— but you didn't know if your lung capacity allowed for it at that moment, as being quiet came with the benefit of holding your breath for longer than you should. "Tell me more."

You giggled against his lips when he braced himself on the desk with his two hands holding onto the edge on both sides of your thighs. Both of your hands moved down to the front of his pants, too fucked out to care about timing as you palmed him through the material just to see that grin on his lips falter. "I'm gonna make you jack off and watch sometime." you mumbled, slowly pulling the zipper down after setting him free from the belt and the button. He hummed, forehead to forehead, before reaching for another little peck.

"As much as I don't see why I should jack off while you're in front of me," he spoke, a sharp intake of breath cutting his line of thought halfway through when your fingers finally wrapped around his cock. "but— shit, if you're into that… Only if you do it w'me, though. I wanna watch too."

"You don't get to watch." you sighed, bringing him closer with your legs to line his length up with your entrance. "You're just gonna sit there and come on your hand like a loser."

Carmen couldn't help the short snort that left him. "Are you even capable of being mean to me?"

"Mm-hm, I'm very mean when I wanna be." and right after that, his tip slid right into your cavern, pulling a deep exhale from both of you when he pushed a bit deeper. His lips found yours, mostly to keep the noises at bay while his hips rolled into yours, grinding against you before retreating a little, only to push in harder this time around.

You felt so full and blessed that you didn't even have to imagine anything to get lost in the feeling.

His pants slid further downwards with each thrust until they pooled around his ankles and your thighs wrapped tighter around his body, trapping him in. His arms were so delicately wrapped around your waist that you had to hold onto him with your whole remaining power to not slide further towards the wall, but he couldn't exactly notice that when he was feeling so damn lucky, whole length wrapped in a warmth beyond his comprehension.

And again, you couldn't blame him, because neither of you managed to notice when the skin slapping against skin got a bit too loud, and your lips pulled away from his just to breathe out the filthiest little nothings, like how much you needed him to fill you right up to the brim. "Fuck, give it to me." your hips met his thrusts half-way through when you pushed yourself against him. "Carmy, come inside me, please."

"Yeah? Are you gonna take it all?" his voice sounded broken, and his fingers would surely leave imprints on your hips with how tight his grip was. "Won't let you waste a drop, baby. I won't."

Somehow, through how feral he was with the way you were begging him, the responsible side came forward and captured your lips in his again— because while his team was full of respectful people, they were also little shits who would never live it down if they heard those beautiful sounds that escaped your lips with each hit of his blunt head against your sweet spot. The thought somehow egged him on further— he couldn't exactly decide if he was too possessive to let anyone hear or if he was possessive enough to make sure everyone knew he belonged to you, but at that moment, both of those thoughts turned him on too much, enough for him to feel his high approaching. And judging by the way your walls cramped down on him tighter with each passing second, you weren't too far behind.

You could feel yourself gushing around him, coating both of you in your essence beyond simple cleaning, but that was a matter to worry about later, not when the love of your life was balls-deep inside of you, his rough grunts right against your ear when he reached to press his lips right below it. "Close?" he mumbled, and even though your mind was too busy to hear and comprehend him properly, you nodded— feeling his arms wrapping around you tighter, pulling you closer to the warmth his body provided. And while as much as you'd like to keep this going for longer, witnessing his pace falter and voice break as he moaned out your name, filling you up in the most delicious way slowly was enough to have your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure, and to have the knot finally snap.

Your whole body was buzzing, shaky even when he held you so tight against his chest as if you'd vanish right there and then— something that he always did after sex, no matter the circumstance. You giggled wearily against his shoulder, leaving a few kisses here and there before he pulled away slightly to pull you into a kiss— nothing like the ones you shared in the past minutes, this one was all sweet and loving. "Might drip if I pull out."

"You can't stay there forever, Carm."

"Oh, but I want to." he huffed out but still moved to slowly pull out of you anyway, having you both hiss in sensitivity and just like he thought, his come was ready to spill all over the place. Quick-thinker in nature, he caught his seed with his fingers right before they could go further, pushing them back into you just to hear you gasp— and slap his shoulder playfully.

"You're a fucking freak."

"Shut up— round two at my place? Kinda wanna see where that watching me jerk off fantasy of yours might lead us."

a/n: once again i could be easily manipulated into breaking into your house with a part two, who knows

also @carmensberzattos consider this a marriage proposal

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmen berzatto fic #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear fic #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff

6K notes · View notes

moldsporr · 16 days ago

Note

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

The them . In mh. Comic

They make me fucking sick

hi is this anything is this good

#CHEERS AND WHOOPS AND CRIES AND PI #GUHHGHGHGG THEM #GAAAHHGHGHH #i like. lookimh at them.#gugghggg #dies #dies joyfullh #oh fuckkk the illness. yaoillness.#reblog #my asks

7 notes · View notes

icedemi · 6 months ago

Text

ᡣ𐭩 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐗 !

FEATURING: dazai !

SYNOPSIS: dazai almost forgot his birthday?! might as well give him a night to remember forever . . .

CONTENT WARNING(S): NSFW content , MDNI , DOM! READER , SUB! DAZAI!! overstimulation , orgasm denial , kinky sex , gender neutral reader. NOT proofread..

ᡣ𐭩

" 'samu, guess what day ittttt issss! " you cheered, eagerly awaiting his response with your hands hidden behind your back.

— " i dunno, garbage day? shit! don't tell me we forgot to take out the bin again.. " he sighed as he retrieved his phone from his coat pocket.

" ill call atsushi, im sure he wouldn't mind emptying it for us " —

" ah.. not quite.. c'mon silly, take a look at the calendar! "

he turned his head to look at the calendar and noticed the 19th marked with "BIRTHDAY" in pink pen, underlined twice with a bunch of hearts around it.

— " ah so today we celebrate the unfortunate day i was involuntarily brought into this dreadful world..." he joked, his eyes lingering on the calendar before turning his gaze to you with his beautiful brown eyes... how could he look so good talking about depressing shit?? —

" oh, stop sulking and open your gift! " you huff, shoving the wrapped present in his face with a pout.

— he chuckled as he opened his gift, a smile spreading across his face. "awh darling, you shouldn't have..."

as he opened the gift his eyes widened at what he saw inside, he picked it up to reveal a vibrator.. —

" surpriseeee! I was thinking we could pass the time before your surprise party at the agency tonight. " you giggled, hugging his waist while teasingly rubbing your knee over his bulge.

— " my mmfph– s.. surprise party huh..? god 'donna you're so bad at keeping secrets... " —

ᡣ𐭩 —————————————

you two had been at it for hours now, dazai is a complete whimpering, whiny teary-eyed mess! god how cute and pathetic he looks

he's practically shooting blanks at this point, however you don't plan on stopping one bit! infact you even brought in a blindfold and a ball-gag just for him! how sweet of you!!

ever so sweetly dragging the vibrator over his flushed pink tip, occasionally pumping his dick just to watch his gasp and beg for more, desperately thrusting into your hand for release..

... just for you to remove your hand and vibrator

— " fuck! mngh-ph.. 'd-..ah!..donna.. c-cmon don't be so mean... " —

... " y'know, naughty boys who aren't grateful, don't deserve to cum... it's a privilege, not a right.. understand me 'samu? you won't be cumming until i allow you to.. "

he desperately whined, nodding his head ever so slowly before shooting it back as you grab ahold of his cock.

— a-augh!~ nmph~ !

" yeah... you’re a dirty slut, aren’t you? but you’re my dirty slut, isn't that right 'samu..? "

... " im gonna have so much fun breaking you tonight! "

ᡣ𐭩 —————————————

AUTHORS NOTES

— yea ur getting edged !! totally not me just running out of ideas 💔

.. sigh, tysm for voting on this !! it was rlly fun to write and i hope you enjoy it 😓😓

stockholm syndrome w fyodor is coming out tomorrow or friday, just a teeny warning it contains like medical / drug kinks??? idfk he drugs you and youre supposed to like it 😭😭

also should i start writing for other fandoms like hsr?? idk about genshin since i haven't been active since fontaines release 😓. 100% inlove w lyney though.. and fremi omg he's so cute

THANK U FOR READING ILYSM

#bsd smut #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs dazai #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs manga #bungo stray dogs x you #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd dazai smut #dazai smut #bsd dazai

222 notes · View notes

kedreeva · 16 hours ago

Text

There are good things in this world still

The Holidays have had me busy the last few days, so between my last Good Things post and this one:

My brother flew down to surprise my sister with a visit for Christmas.

My elderly, ill bird (Aurora) started showing fast improvement once we switched medications for her!

I spent an evening with my in-laws, who are lovely folks. There was good food, good company, good cheer. I received an adorable homemade sticker from my nephew, with my farm name in the Jurassic Park logo style!

It lives on my computer now so I can look at it whenever I want. They also gave me a laptop cooling pad, which not only cools my laptop, but allows me to tip/raise it only my lap so I'm no longer hunched over to write and game!

I stole all of the wrapping paper and boxes, to be shredded for rodent bedding/nesting materials; they will highly enjoy all of the novel scents and textures!

I made spinach artichoke dip for the christmas gathering, except I completely forgot the artichoke. On the one hand, I felt bad not having a viable dish, but on the other hand, I mixed in the artichoke when I got home, and put it all into a mini-crockpot to heat up and eat at home. Worked great! I've been wondering about the effectiveness of the mini crock for a while (Can I Make Just One Cup Of Soup??), and it seems fairly viable for keeping stuff warm at least- GREAT news for making a small amount of hot mulled cider for cold nights.

I finished two scenes for my next chapter of story, after not having the spoons to write for a while. I also caught myself daydreaming about Final Pack again, so I will be renewing efforts to get the first book cleaned up!

I candled the eggs from my wild type celadon project, expecting that none of them would be growing (because the eggs get too cold in the winter), but there are FIVE of them! growing!! They've got ten more days to go, so we'll see how many actually make it out. I am STOKED to see what the first babies look like.

I baked sugar cookies and frosted them with my partner. It was very fun, and I have enjoyed giving cookies to people (and eating them, myself) since.

There are good things left in this world, however small. This is your opportunity to reblog this and share your good things with each other, or check the notes if you need a reminder.

#Today is day 50 #there are 1471 days left #good things #wild type celadons #my pets

98 notes · View notes

whitedarkmoonflower · 3 months ago

Text

Dance with me

Fictober Day 13

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: my illness has turned all my plans upside down. It's obvious I'm lagging behind with my Fictober fics and probably will not manage to catch up. I wanted to post this some other time outsite the Fictober, but as I haven't finished my planed shorts I decided to go for what I have.

Warnings: fluff, SMUT 18+, dancing 😅

Word Count: 6,3K

Summary: it's Eostre – time to celebrate, to feast and honour the returning light after the long winter. And you just want to feel happy and dance...

Please remember that comments and reblogs are two things that make writers smile and keep us motivated.

The cheerful banter around the long tables, laden with food and ale, grows louder with each passing moment. Laughter fills the air, mingling with the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread. It’s the month of the goddess Eostre, a time to celebrate, to feast and honour the returning light after the long winter.

“Hey, have you made up your mind yet?” Gisela's elbow jabs into your side just as you lift your mug, causing you to cough and nearly spill your ale.

“About what?” you ask, trying to feign innocence as you catch your breath.

“Don’t play dumb. I’m not blind. I see the way you look at him,” Gisela smirks, deftly taking the mug from your hand and setting it on the table.

“And how exactly do I look at him? And who is 'he,' anyway?” you retort, though you know she’s already seen through you. After all, your sister probably knows you better than you know yourself.

"Sihtric is a good lad. A bit shy, but loyal to a fault. You could do a lot worse," Gisela says with a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "And let’s be honest, he looks at you like you hung the moon."

You can feel heat rising to your cheeks, and you fidget with the neckline of your dress. "I don't know what you're talking about," you mutter, though your heart betrays you with its quickening pace.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice instruments being retrieved, and soon the hall erupts in cheers as the first notes of a flute echo through the space. The melody is quickly joined by the rich hum of a lute and the steady rhythm of a drum, weaving together to fill the air with lively music that brings the gathering to life.

“Go to him,” Gisela urges, bumping you with her shoulder, her laughter blending into the rhythmic stomping of dancing feet. The force nearly sends you tumbling from the bench. With an exaggerated scoff, you push yourself to your feet, sticking out your tongue in a playful, mocking grimace—just like in the good old days when you were carefree kids in your father's home.

You know exactly where to find him. Tucked away in the far corner of the hall, back resting against a wooden post, one leg propped on the bench, mug in hand. He watches the loud, cheerful chaos around him with a quiet wariness, almost suspicion shimmering in his eyes.

“Would you dance with me?” you ask, planting yourself directly in front of him.

The young Dane flinches, startled. His eyes dart up to meet your questioning gaze before quickly scanning the room, as if searching for someone else you could be speaking to.

“Me?” he finally stammers, realising there’s no one else nearby. The surprise in his voice is unmistakable.

“Do you see anyone else here?” you tease, trying to suppress a smile.

Sihtric is undeniably handsome, with his dark, thick hair neatly braided, his large, vivid eyes, strong jaw, and those striking, expressive collarbones. You’ve had your eye on him since the moment Uhtred first brought him to Coccham.

And you're quite sure Gisela is right about him. More than once, you've caught his eyes on you when he thought you weren’t looking. Not the sly, cheeky glances that some of the warriors throw your way before quickly learning you're more than capable of breaking a nose or two.

No, Sihtric’s gaze is different—shy, hesitantly sweet, filled with admiration and quiet longing. His eyes always dart to the ground the instant they meet yours, as if he’s been caught in something forbidden, in a moment he wasn’t ready to share.

Sihtric shifts uncomfortably, a flicker of panic crossing his face. “I... I can’t dance,” he mutters, his voice barely audible over the noise of the hall. His eyes drop to the floor, clearly embarrassed by the confession.

You tilt your head, undeterred. “That’s alright. I’ll teach you,” you say with a warm smile, refusing to give him a chance to slip away. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

He glances around the room, as if searching for an escape, but when you stretch out your hand, waiting patiently, he knows there’s no way out. With a reluctant nod, he finally gives in.

“My lady, if you insist,” he mutters, his voice a mix of nerves and resignation. You grab his hand, pulling him gently toward the dance floor. His hand is warm in yours, but there’s a stiffness in his movements, his steps awkward as you guide him into the crowd.

The music swells around you, and you begin to move, showing him the simple steps. You can’t suppress the smile that tugs at your lips as he tries, somewhat clumsily, to follow. You reach for him, hook your elbows together, and start skipping around. After just a few steps, his feet tangle beneath him, and he stumbles.

“I—I’m sorry,” he stammers, his face flushing as his gaze falls to the floor, as though it’s betrayed him.

You laugh softly, waving off his apology. “Take it easy. Let’s try again.”

His jaw tightens, a sign that he’s about to pull away, but you don’t let him. With quick reflexes, you grab his arms and place them around your waist. You see him swallowing hard.

“Now, we skip to the right,” you instruct, taking the lead as you pull him along. He follows hesitantly at first, but after a few more tries, he finally begins to find his rhythm. The next time your elbows hook together, he even manages not to step on your feet.

You laugh, the warmth of the ale and the heat from the dance painting your cheeks crimson. Your chest rises and falls with each breath, strands of hair loosening from your braid and tumbling over your eyes.

Sihtric’s eyes remain fixed on you, captivated. If his hands weren’t resting on your waist, he might pinch himself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. But he can’t let go. He simply can’t—he’s too afraid that if he does, you’ll vanish like a figment of his imagination.

You move like a wildcat—fluid, graceful, every motion alive with an energy that seems almost unreal to him. From the moment he first set foot on Uhtred’s estate, he had kept his eyes on you. You greeted them at the gates, your laughter ringing like the chime of a bell, and in that instant, he knew he was lost.

You are a force of nature—wild, untamable, a tempest in human form. The vitality within you sparkles like the purest spring, bubbling endlessly with life and energy.

Stubborn and headstrong, you often made your sister, Gisela, and your brother-in-law furrow their brows in frustration. Whether sneaking away to hunt, challenging Uhtred’s warriors to spar, or riding far beyond the estate’s boundaries into the untamed wilds, you constantly test the limits. Yet, despite their disapproval, you were impossible to stay mad at, your spirit too vibrant, too boundless. It was as if the world itself struggled to contain you.

And now, you stand before him, eyes alight with joy and challenge, daring him to keep up with your storm. Could he? For a fleeting moment, Sihtric feels as though he could. For a fleeting moment, he forgets everything else. Your laughter, bright and contagious, fills him with a lightness he has never known before. Just for that moment.

Sihtric struggles to keep up, the lively music pushing the tempo faster, but he can’t tear his gaze from you. Your laughter rings out, a sound so free and untamed that it stirs something deep inside him. He feels out of place, unsteady on his feet, but the warmth of your body against his and the brightness of your eyes give him a sense of belonging he hadn’t expected, he hadn’t felt for ages.

You spin around, your hands never leaving him, and his grip tightens instinctively on your waist.

“See? You’re doing fine,” you tease, breathless, your face glowing.

He swallows hard, unable to find words. The floor beneath him still feels foreign, but your encouragement pulls him back from the edge of retreat. He smiles, a rare expression, soft but filled with something that makes your heart skip a beat.

Just as he begins to relax, a sharp step pulls him back into reality. His legs tangle, and this time, you both stumble forward. He manages to catch you in the last movement, preventing you both from tumbling to the ground. You laugh, you breath catching but Sihtric stiffens, his face flushing deep red.

“I’m... I’m sorry,” he mutters hastily, his embarrassment rising faster than he can control. Without giving you a chance to respond, he loosens his grip and pulls away, stepping back awkwardly from the dance floor.

You blink in surprise, reaching out as he retreats. “Sihtric, wait—”

But it’s too late. He’s already weaving through the crowd, ducking his head and making his way toward the darker edges of the hall, away from the noise and the eyes of others. You stand there for a moment, your heart sinking as you watch him disappear into the shadows.

Taking a deep breath, you debate whether to follow him. The warmth of the ale and the excitement of the night buzz in your veins. No, you are not letting this end like this.

You gather yourself, smoothing your dress, and push through the crowd in the direction he went. As you move toward the quieter, dimly lit corner of the hall, you finally spot him, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes are fixed on the floor, as if trying to disappear.

“Sihtric,” you call gently, approaching him with caution. He doesn’t move at first, but when you stop in front of him, he lifts his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again, the words strained. “I’m... I’m not made for this. I shouldn’t have tried.”

You shake your head, stepping closer. “You did just fine. Better than fine, actually.”

He looks at you as though unsure whether to believe you, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“It’s just a dance, Sihtric,” you reply softly, reaching for his hand.

His fingers twitch beneath yours, but he doesn’t pull away this time. The tension in his shoulders seems to ease, just a little, as he takes a slow breath. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, offering a smile.

“Let’s try again,” you say, though this time your voice is quieter, more intimate. “But only if you want to.”

For a moment, he says nothing, his gaze searching your face as if trying to find the right words. Then, with a hesitant nod, he lets out a soft sigh.

You laugh softly, tugging him back toward the floor, the warmth of his rough palm holding yours making you shiver.

The night passes in a blur of dancing, laughter, and the sensation of Sihtric’s hands on your waist, growing more confident with each step. He pulls you closer to his chest, his eyes never losing that sweet, bewildered expression, as if he still can’t believe you are real.

With each step, you feel your heart beat faster, not just from the dance, but from the way his fingers brush against your skin, leaving a trail of warmth wherever they linger. The intensity of his gaze, the way he holds you as though you’re something precious, makes you feel flustered, your cheeks growing warmer with every passing moment.

The ale swirling in your veins adds to the heady haze, but it’s more than the drink—it’s him. The way he looks at you, like you’re the centre of his world, sends your pulse racing.

Every time his gaze meets yours, that gentle, almost shy smile tugs at his lips, but there’s something deeper in his eyes now—something softer, yet burning with intensity. You wonder if he knows what effect he has on you, if he can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the way your breath catches when his fingers splay possessively across your waist, pulling you even closer.

For Sihtric, the night feels like a dream—one he’s terrified to wake from. He’s aware of every detail—your laughter, the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips, the way you lean into him, trusting him to guide you.

He knows so very well how his heart had skipped a beat each time your paths crossed, the way his chest had tightened when you smiled at him, as if the world around you had suddenly shifted, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from wanting to be a part of it.

He had managed to push those feelings aside, told himself it was foolish to hope. You were kind to him, warm in a way he wasn’t used to, and he’d longed for that kindness, for the gentle way you spoke his name, but he’d always convinced himself that it was something just out of reach.

To him, you had always seemed too bright, too full of life, while he was just a shadow, lingering on the outskirts of your world, grateful for whatever small moments he could share with you.

But now, as he holds you in his arms, as your body moves in rhythm with his, he can feel the walls he’d built around his heart crumbling. As you spin together, the flickering firelight casting soft shadows around you, Sihtric becomes more and more aware of how much he wants this—not just the fleeting warmth of your body pressed against his, but you, all of you.

He wants to be the one who makes you laugh, the one you trust to hold you, to protect you, to be by your side in all things. But there’s still a trace of fear, a deep-seated uncertainty that makes his grip on you tighten ever so slightly, as if he’s afraid this could all vanish the moment he lets go.

He’s always been afraid of asking for too much, afraid of wanting what he’s never thought he deserved and every time you glance up at him, your face glowing in the soft light, Sihtric realises he’s been holding his breath, waiting for the inevitable heartbreak. But instead, you smile at him, and it’s a smile that feels like home, like something he’s been searching for his entire life without even knowing it.

"Come with me, I need some fresh air," you say, taking his hand in yours. Without hesitation, he follows.

He would follow you anywhere, even to the end of the world and beyond, if that’s where you led.

You pull him away from the lights and noise of the hall, the sounds and movement overwhelming your senses. The rapid pounding of your heart in your chest is deafening, drowning out the world around you. You slip into a narrow passage between the houses, the cool night air brushing against your heated skin.

“Wait, where are you going?” Sihtric’s voice is thick, rough around the edges, a strange tension threading through his words. The warmth in your cheeks deepens, and a flutter rises in your stomach, as if his question has set something alight inside you.

You turn to face him, a teasing smile still dancing on your parted lips. In the next moment, without hesitation, you push him back against the wall. Your lips collide with his—hungry and demanding.

Sihtric’s body freezes for a heartbeat, his muscles tensing beneath your touch as if unsure how to respond. His hands land on your shoulders, almost as if to push you away. But you don’t stop—your lips continue to explore his, tasting the ale on his ragged breath.

A soft moan escapes him, breaking the tension, and his hands begin to move, sliding up to your neck, his fingers tangling in your dishevelled hair. He pulls you closer, the hesitation melting away as his lips become just as hungry and greedy as yours.

Sihtric spins you around, your back colliding with the rough wooden wall. You barely notice, too consumed by the feverish movement of his lips against yours, the way his tongue slips between them, igniting a fire in your core. His thigh presses firmly between your legs, spreading them, and a moan escapes you, muffled against his mouth. You cling to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Sihtric's hands find your hips, gripping tightly as he pulls you even closer, his fingers digging into your skin through the thin fabric of your simple dress. The heat radiating from his body is intoxicating, his breath ragged against your lips as he swallows every sound you make.

Your back presses harder against the wooden wall, the roughness of it grounding you in the frenzy of the moment. His thigh remains firm between your legs, and you instinctively grind against him, desperate for more, needing the friction, the pressure, the release that only he can give you.

"Sihtric," you gasp, barely able to form the words as his lips travel down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and you arch your back, offering more of yourself to him.

His hand cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple, making you gasp and buck against him. Your eager fingers start tugging at the laces of his breeches.

“Wait, please... wait,” he pants, pulling away from your lips and resting his forehead against the wall beside you. His breath, rapid and shallow, fans across your neck, and you can feel the tremble in his body as he shivers.

“I can’t,” he whispers, his voice strained, almost broken. “I... I can’t do this,” he repeats, and you can practically hear his heart pounding wildly in his chest, as if it’s about to burst free.

“Of course you can, Sihtric. It’s Eostre, and I’m choosing you,” you whisper, your fingers threading through his hair, though you try to mask the disappointment creeping into your voice. “Don’t you want me?”

Doubt begins to coil around your thoughts. Had you misread him? Misunderstood everything? Perhaps he wasn’t just shy as you’d thought—maybe his heart already belongs to someone else. The uncertainty makes your chest tighten, and you struggle to steady your breath.

“I do, by the gods, believe me, I’ve dreamt of this more times than I can count. It’s just...” His voice falters, fading into a quivering whisper. How could he possibly explain, without dying of shame, that his experience in pleasing a woman is limited to a few clumsy attempts at wooing the kitchen slaves back in Dunholm and a handful of hurried encounters in alehouses along the way?

“Hey, look at me,” you say softly, cupping his jaw with your hands and gently pulling his face toward yours. Your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and he shivers at the touch. “Sihtric, please, talk to me. I don’t understand.”

The tenderness in your voice, the warmth of your body pressed so close to his—it’s driving him mad, his cock getting painfully hard and pulsing in his breeches. Just this morning, he had chased his release with the thought of you filling his mind. And now, here you are, offering him something he had craved for so long but never truly believed he could have.

“I... I can’t taint you. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to disappoint you either. You deserve better than...,” his voice is barely a whisper, the words fragile as they fall from his lips.

“Why would you say that?” you ask, still confused, but then the realisation hits you just as the words leave your mouth. “For the gods' sake, Sihtric, if you’re worried about my maidenhood... I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you were thinking. And I’m sorry if that disappoints you.”

Silence descends between you. You slowly begin to let go of him, your hands sliding down the firm plane of his chest, but before you can pull away, he catches them. Gently, he brings your fingers to his lips, his touch tender.

“Then you can show me,” he rasps, his voice rough, “like with the dancing. Show me how to make you feel good.” He places a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, the warmth of his lips sending a shiver through you.

A quiet laugh escapes your chest as you slide your hand into his hair, pulling him closer. Sihtric moans softly as your lips meet, and when your tongue slips past his, his breath hitches, the sound melting into your kiss.

You look up at him, and in his large, dark eyes, you see nothing but a deep hunger intertwined with sweet nervousness and anticipation. A warmth blooms in your chest as the realisation sinks in—as much as he burns with desire to have you, this sweet, young warrior wants more than just a quick hump in a shadowed alley.

“Not here,” you whisper, taking his hand in yours and leading him away once more.

The moment the door closes behind you, your lips find his again, desperate and eager. Moonlight pours through the window, casting a soft, silvery glow across the room, its light almost ethereal, adding a touch of magic to the night.

“You want to make me feel good?” you whisper against Sihtric’s mouth, and he nods eagerly, unable to part himself from your lips.

You lean against the door and spread your legs, gathering the fabric of your dress up your thighs, lifting it as you gently guide Sihtric’s hand between your thighs to the heat of your naked cunt. He groans and you feel his arousal pressing against you through his breeches.

“Here,” you place his fingers at your pulsing bundle of nerves, brushing slowly over it. “Keep going. Easy, gentle. Yes, just like that,” you don’t even try to bite down the moan that rolls over your lips. His fingers tremble slightly, betraying his nervousness, as his lips softly kiss your neck.

Sihtric's breath hitches as his fingers keep brushing against your wetness.

“You’re doing well,” you murmur softly, your lips hovering over his, giving him the encouragement he craves and guiding his hand more firmly between your thighs. “Don’t stop.”

With your guidance, Sihtric’s fingers begin to explore more confidently, his thumb finding your perl, pressing experimentally before circling in slow, deliberate strokes. Another moan escapes you, muffled against his mouth, and the sound seems to ignite something in him. He leans into you, his lips moving more urgently, his hand following the rhythm you set.

You press your forehead against his, your breaths mingling in the sliver of space between you. "Just like that," you breathe, your hips moving in time with the motions of his hand, your body already trembling under his touch. His nervousness melts away as he loses himself in the moment, his focus entirely on you, on making you feel everything he’s capable of giving.

“Gods,” he whispers, his voice thick with awe as he watches your body react to him, the way you grind against his hand, your soft moans filling the room. His free hand grips your waist, pulling you closer to him, as if afraid he might lose contact with the heat of your body.

You can feel him hard against your thigh, his cock straining beneath the fabric of his breeches.

“Good, you are good,” you breathe, leaning heavily against the door. Your hips start rolling against Sihtric’s hand, seeking for more friction. His breathing gets heavier with each moan leaving you, each roll of your hips.

“You are so wet,” he whispers, nuzzling against the crook of your neck, as his kisses get sloppier.

“Put your fingers into me,” you murmur. He obeys, his thick fingers sliding through your folds to your entrance and dipping into your pulsing core. You both moan as your muscles convulse around his digits.

“Does it feel good?” he asks, his gaze fixed on your face, trying to read you, as he starts to move his fingers in and out of you, his thumb brushing against your perl. His attention is solely on you, his desire to please you, to do this right, to give you more than he thinks he can, is palpable in every stroke, every glance, every shallow breath.

“It does, aaahhh, oh gods, it does,” you whimper, bucking your hips more frantically as you feel the familiar heat pooling in your abdomen, “Keep going, please just keep going. Don’t stop before I tell you,” you beg.

Sihtric’s tongue starts licking wet stripes on your sensitive skin on your neck, he bites down gently on your collarbone, his tongue soothing the mark. His muffled moans are getting louder as he keeps moving his fingers, his self control fading as he starts grinding himself shamelessly against your thigh.

The pressure of Sihtric’s thumb on your perl is just perfect. His fingers slide in and out of you at a steady pace, making lewd wet sounds and driving you mad with want, every move bringing you closer to the edge.

You gasp loudly as your climax washes over you, stars exploding behind your closely shut eyes. You buck your hips against Sihtric’s hand, and he breathes heavily in the crook of your neck but he keeps moving his fingers just as told, while you ride out your release.

When you both finally still, your breaths come in ragged gasps, bodies pressed tightly together. Sihtric shudders with restraint, his weight pinning you against the door and you can still feel his hard length pressing insistently against your thigh.

His lips find yours again, stealing soft, lingering kisses as he fights to regain control. The last thing he wants is to spill in his breeches, but he's dangerously close, teetering on the edge.

“Come,” you whisper, gently pushing him back before moving toward the bed. With a fluid motion, you nonchalantly pull your simple linen dress over your head, letting it fall to the ground. Sihtric’s eyes never leave you, drinking in the sight of your bare skin. You are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

“Come here,” you murmur, reaching out a hand toward him as you settle onto the bed, tucking your legs beneath you.

Sihtric pushes himself away from the door, stepping closer with a nervous energy. He quickly kicks off his boots and pulls his tunic over his head, revealing his perfectly sculpted upper body. You can’t help but marvel at the sight.

A hint of embarrassment flickers across Sihtric’s handsome, slightly boyish face as his fingers fumble with the stubborn laces of his breeches. His breathing grows ragged, frustration mounting as the laces refuse to yield to his shaky hands. You shuffle to the edge of the bed, closing the distance between you. His body quivers under your touch as your fingers brush over the taut planes of his abdomen, gently helping him undo the stubborn ties.

You pull his pants down to his knees and his cock springs free, rock hard and leaking. His breath catches in his throat as he feels your hand wrap around him, but you don’t stop. You stroke him slowly, his cock heavy in your hand, the heat of it sending a fresh wave of arousal through you.

You look up at him, feeling his body shaking. You let go of his cock to help him shed the last of his clothes, but as he moves to join you on the bed, his actions slow, hesitation creeping into his movements. His questioning gaze searches yours. You wrap your arms around his neck and gently pull him between your legs.

“I…,” he starts but you silence him with a kiss, your hand in his hair keeps him firmly in place as you guide his cock to your entrance with the other.

He pushes his tip inside you, and the soft whimper that leaves him is so sweet and arousing that you feel your core start clenching around nothing. You wrap your legs around his waist and roll your hips against him, pulling him deeper, your nails dig into his back as you cling to him, your body on fire.

Sihtric moans heavily as he finally sinks fully into you, his body trembling as though barely holding itself together. For a fleeting moment, you wonder if he’ll lose control, spill himself right then. But instead, he stills, buried deep inside, his forehead resting in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in ragged, hot bursts against your skin.

“I’m so sorry, but I won’t last,” he murmurs, voice thick with both apology and strain, as though holding back is a battle he’s already losing.

You gently thread your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, your touch soft, soothing. “It’s all right,” you whisper, a quiet reassurance. You shift slightly beneath him, savouring the feeling of his weight pressing you into the bed, the fullness of him inside you. “Take it easy. You’ve already made me feel good. Now it’s your turn.”

For a heartbeat, it feels like time stretches thin around you both, the world beyond the two of you fading away. Then, with a deep breath, he begins to move, his hips drawing back only to thrust forward again, slowly at first, almost hesitant. But with each roll of his hips his movements become quicker, more insistent.

“Gods, it feels so good,” he pants, his voice hoarse with need, and you can feel the desperation in every snap of his hips. “You feel so good.”

You moan in response, too lost in the sensation of him, in the building pressure within you, to form words. The sound of your pleasure, the way your body arches into him, drives him forward, his pace quickening as he thrusts into you, each movement more confident, more urgent than the last. And it’s not long before his pace becomes relentless, and the room is filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, his ragged breathing, and your soft cries of pleasure.

Sihtric's grip tightens around you, his fingers digging into your hips as if he’s afraid to let go, as if holding on to you will keep him grounded. He buries his face into your neck again, teeth grazing your skin, his body trembling harder now. You can feel how close he is, the tension coiling tighter with every thrust.

But your pleasure is building too, a fire that spreads through your body with each movement. His every thrust hits deep, sending waves of bliss surging through you, tightening your core as you arch against him.

You relish the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, the raw strength behind each snap of his hips. You can feel his need, his desperation, and the intimacy of it is intoxicating. The friction between your bodies is perfect, and you lose yourself in the rhythm, in the way he fills you so completely, as though you were made to fit together like this.

Sihtric falters at the sound of your moans, his movements more erratic now as his release approaches. You can feel the tension within him, and it pushes you closer to the edge, the pleasure swirling through you until it’s almost too much.

"Sihtric," you moan, your voice trembling as the pressure builds inside you, your body begging for release.

He grits his teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he drives into you harder, his own breath ragged, on the verge of losing control. "I can’t... I’m so close," he pants, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, as your body tightens around him, your release already so close you can taste it. "I’m with you."

His breath hitches, then, with a shuddering moan, he gives in. His movements become erratic, uncontrolled. A few more thrusts and he can’t hold back anymore, you feel his cock twitch inside you, as his release crashes over him. His head falls against your shoulder, his body trembling as he spills into you, the last of his restraint slipping away as he moans in the crook of your neck, his release sending you over the edge with him.

The coil inside you snaps, and pleasure surges through your body, flooding every nerve with an intensity that steals your breath. A cry escapes your lips as you let the overwhelming wave of bliss consume your senses. Your walls tighten around him as your release pulses through you, wave after wave, making you arch into him.

Your fingers clutch at his back, grounding yourself in the feel of his skin beneath your touch, in the warmth of his body pressed to yours. The world blurs, and all you can feel is him, until finally, the pleasure begins to ebb, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

“Did I hurt you?” Sihtric pants against your neck, his voice trembling, on the verge of breaking.

“No, you didn’t,” you reply softly, a gentle laugh escaping your lips.

“But you screamed,” he murmurs, his breath shaky as he peppers your neck and collarbone with soft kisses. From the rawness in his voice, you sense he’s close to tears.

“Sihtric, no,” you quickly shake your head, your voice gentle but firm. “It wasn’t pain. It was pleasure. Pure pleasure. You made me feel so good I couldn’t keep it inside.”

Relief washes over his face, but there’s still a trace of uncertainty lingering in his eyes. You pull him into a tight embrace, and he hesitates for just a heartbeat before melting into your touch, his body relaxing against yours as if your arms are the only place he finds peace. He is still buried within you, his arms wrapped tightly around you, as though grounding himself in the warmth of your embrace.

You run your fingers through his damp hair, threading through the dark strands with gentle strokes. Your hand moves tenderly to his back, tracing slow, calming circles along his bare skin, the heat of him radiating into you. He feels so solid in your arms, and yet you feel it, the weariness, vibrating through his lean, muscular frame, in the way he clings to you—like someone who’s not used to being held, afraid this might be fleeting.

His arms tighten around you as if he’s trying to commit the feeling of your warmth to memory, as though he fears you might slip away, leaving him with nothing but the echo of your embrace. There’s a tension in him, something almost heartbreaking, as if he’s still learning how to accept what has just happened, how to believe that this tenderness is truly his to keep.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. There’s something raw and unguarded in his gaze that makes your breath catch in your throat. “I’ve never…” he begins, but the words falter on his lips. He swallows hard, as if it’s difficult to admit. “I’ve never had anyone hold me like this. Not… like they wanted to.”

The confession hangs between you like a fragile thread, and in that moment, you realise how much he’s been starved of simple affection—of the kind of love that doesn’t demand anything in return, that’s given freely.

Your heart aches for him, for the boy who likely learned to be strong on his own, who never thought he deserved softness. You cup his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones, and offer him a gentle smile. “You deserve to be held, Sihtric,” you say, your voice steady, filled with certainty. “You deserve to be loved.”

He blinks, as if trying to process your words, like they’re something foreign to him. “I don’t know how to…” he trails off, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s admitting a weakness. “I don’t know how to be with someone like this.”

You shake your head softly, pressing your forehead against his. “You don’t have to know,” you reply, your voice filled with quiet reassurance. “Just feel it.”

His eyes glisten for a moment, overwhelmed by the simplicity of your words, the acceptance they carry. He lets out a shaky breath, his grip on you tightening again, but this time it’s different—it’s not out of fear or desperation, but something softer, something full of trust.

And when he leans in to kiss you, it’s slower, more tender, as if he’s finally allowing himself to believe that this—being held, being loved—is something real, something he can finally have.

“Next time, I’ll show you more,” you murmur, your voice teasing but full of promise. The warmth of your words stirs something deep within him, and he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression a mix of wonder and disbelief.

“Next time?” Sihtric asks, his eyes wide with surprise, almost as if he can’t quite believe the words. “You mean… there will be a next time?” The mix of hope and bewilderment in his question makes you smile.

“Of course there will be a next time,” you tease, your fingers gently tracing the lines of his face as you pull him closer. “Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily. You’ve fallen into my trap, and now you’re mine.”

His eyes search yours for a moment, as if trying to understand how he could be so lucky, and the smile that spreads across his lips tells you everything.

Sihtric’s arms tighten around you, his forehead resting against yours. He doesn’t have to say the words aloud, because in the way he holds you, in the way he presses his lips softly to your forehead, you already know—you are his, as much as he is yours and your dance through life has only just begun.

#sihtric #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fanfiction #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric smut #sihtric kjartansson x reader #fictober 2024

125 notes · View notes