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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

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CEO Bucky takes his anger out on his secretary (ft smut)

Imagine CEO!Bucky accidently taking his anger out on his already stressed out secretary. He gets mean and you will deal with it because I wanted this angst turned smut to go from chest itching to stomach fluttering.

Your stomach twisted in knots looking at the pile of papers you had stacked on your desk, the phone still ringing while new messages popped up in your email inbox every 5 minutes. The files had to be organized by the next meeting and the number on the phone display was one you couldn’t ignore. The back to back messages were from various investors, each person insisting they were a priority over the others. You kept the receiver between your ear and shoulder, your hands flying around your desk madly between papers and tapping your keyboard.

You quickly added a few more meetings to the calendar before hurrying to your bosses office to remind him of one he had later that afternoon. You hesitated before knocking at the door, the closed doors indicating he was busy, but you knew he’d want a heads up about the meeting.

“Mr. Barnes, you have a meeting with Stark Enterprises at 3:30-

“Didn’t I tell you to move this meeting to next week?” Bucky snapped, blue eyes glaring at you while you blinked in confusion. “Well?”

“N-no” You shook your head, you’d never missed an email before and you’d always been on top of scheduling changes on time. Bucky mumbled something under his breath before waving you off, the shrill sound of his phone going off.

“Barnes” Bucky grunted, answering the phone without looking back at you, leaving to you scramble away and figure out if you could rearrange the date with Tony Stark.

Which was a mess in itself.

You had to argue back and forth, pleading to no end for a different day with Starks assistant only reluctantly agreeing after nearly half an hour.

“You really should be more responsible, can’t believe Barnes has the likes of you working under him” the woman on the phone clicked her tongue before slamming down the receiver, cutting the call. You sighed, taking in a deep breath to calm the tightness you felt in your throat, you didn’t have time to break down now.

You printed the up coming contracts for Bucky to sign, organizing them by name and highlighting the places he had to sign so he didn’t have to bother finding the space for signatures. You scurried back into his office, dreading the tense click of his jaw, your nerves increasing even more.

“Sir, these are your papers-” You stumbled over the corner of the rug, scattering the papers onto the floor, your heart hammering out of your chest when you saw Bucky irritatedly run his fingers through his hair.

“For fucks sake, y/n, I’m already stressed, don’t screw more shit up!” He growled, eyes hardening at the sight of the papers strewn across the floor of his office while you stayed frozen on the spot. Your eyes glossed over, quickly scrambling to the floor to grab the documents, mumbling apologies over and over again, hoping none of your tears stained the paper. The sight of tears streaking down your face broke Bucky out of his frustrated state, instantly regretting the tone he’d used with you.

“Fuck” Bucky cursed under his breath, getting out of his chair to help you but you’d already managed to pick everything up, immediately trying to scramble away.

“Y/n”

You didn’t stop, unable to take more of Bucky’s wrath, continuing to hurry towards the door, desperately trying to hold down your sniffles and aggressively wiping your cheeks.

“Y/n”

Bucky sighed, gently reaching out to grab your arm and pulling you to face him, his feeling even worse when you kept your eyes trained on the floor, your arms wrapped around yourself.

“I’m sorry, p-please d-on’t yell” You choked out, still trying to hold your composure together, fighting the way your body wanted to break down into sobs

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, I’m sorry” his heart broke seeing the tears collecting in your lash line, his thumb swiping away the ones that spilled out. “M’sorry baby” he wasn’t sure where the pet name came from but he couldn’t help it, letting it naturally roll off his tongue. You were still rigid, refusing to look at him, nearly flinching when he pulled you closer, tilting your chin up to meet his steel blues.

“Look at me” He spoke softly now, as if he were trying to coax a small animal out of hiding, his touch gentle, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you”

“It’s okay” you shrugged, slipping out of his hold, quickly wiping your face and going back to work as if nothing had happened. Even though he’d apologized, his words rang through your mind for the rest of the day.

In fact, they stuck with you through the entire week.

Bucky hated the way you didn’t even look at him anymore. He missed your soft good mornings and shy smile whenever he walked into his office. Now all you did was keep your head down, freezing in fear as soon as you heard his footsteps. And it was all his fault.

He despised that he made you feel scared of him, his own anger being the cause of upsetting you when you had been nothing but sweet from the day he’d met you. You were also the best he’d ever had; no one else had ever come close to how brilliantly you worked; you never missed anything. He nearly spat out the coffee that was placed on his table, missing the perfect cup you made for him every morning.

You only spoke 1-2 words, retreating from his office as soon as you got what you needed, your eyes always trained on the floor, looking away from him. He couldn’t take it anymore, feeling more guilty each day; he couldn’t go on any longer without your sweetness.

You blinked at the baby pink roses that sat in a basket on your desk along with a little bear placed on top, a small hand made I’m Sorry heart sitting in its furry hands, clearly in Bucky’s handwriting. You traced over the soft teddy holding it in your hands before going to his office. Before you could say anything, Bucky was up and out of his seat, desperately hoping you’d hear him out.

“M’sorry y/n” His soft eyes were filled with sadness and regret as he reached out to hold your hands in his, not wanting you to run off again, “I’m so sorry angel, there’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have yelled at you”

“It’s fine” You whispered, still avoiding his gaze.

“Hey, it’s not fine” Bucky shook his head, cupping your face to make you look at him, “It’s not baby, I shouldn’t have ever treated you that way. You do everything for me, I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on you”

“I shouldn’t have messed u-

“Don’t, absolutely not. You never do sweets, it was me who messed up. Never you. Will you forgive me, doll?” Bucky nervously bit his lip while you gave him a small nod, that adorable shy smile he loved so much making its way to your lips.

“God, I missed this” He whispered, his thumb tracing over your lips, chuckling at the tiny confused pout you gave him after.

“What did you miss”

“This little smile you always have whenever you’re around me” Bucky smirked at the way you grew more bashful, doe eyes darting about, “Do you have any idea how much I love when you look at me like that?”

“Mr-Mr. Barnes” Your breath hitched in your throat as his hands slowly moved to hold your waist, pulling you closer. Your hands made their way to his chest to ground yourself, forgetting how to breathe as he pressed his lips against yours. It started off soft and slow; his sweet tongue turning sinful as he walked over to his chair, pulling you to straddle him without breaking apart once. You let out a needy whimper feeling him harden under you though Bucky was still focused on kissing your soft skin, his lips fluttering across every inch.

You’d never been this close to Bucky before, the intoxicating scent of his cologne making your heart race, his calloused large hands roaming your body. You hadn’t even realized you were grinding down on his thick bulge until he let out a groan, stilling your hips.

“Keep that up bunny and you’ll make me cum in my pants like a little boy” Bucky let out a strained chuckle, using every bit of his self restraint not to tear your clothes off.

“Please?” You wiggled against him again, needing to be closer, Bucky’s resolve slowly crumbling. How could he hold back when you were practically humping your soaked needy cunt right on his erection.

“Please what, sweets”

“Need you Sir” your voice had melted in a whine and that was all it took. The sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor caused more arousal to dampen your panties, nearly drooling at the sight of his cock as he pulled it out.

“Are-are you sure?” He checked with you once more, not wasting a second ripping your blouse off as soon as you nodded. He threw your bra off next before lifting your skirt up and pulling your panties to the, rubbing his fingers through your folds.

“Sir, pleasee”

“I got you, I got you baby. Wanted to make love for our first time angel, give you a bed with rose petals n’ champagne over ice” He whispered, recounting every fantasy he’d thought of from the day he’d met you, “Wanted to make you feel good baby, throw your legs over my shoulders and nurse off this little clit”

He rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves, continuing.

“N’ then you’d be my sweet pillow princess. I’d let you lie down all night while I fuck your soul angel. I’d give you my cum all night, pump you full of my cream”

“Need you now” You whimpered, clutching onto the lapels of his blazer, not that you didn’t want everything he was telling you but you couldn't wait.

“Alright baby, c’mere” He pulled you closer, your bare chest pressed against his as he rubbed his swollen cockhead to gather your slick before breeching your tight hole, his hips gently pushing up till he was buried to the hilt, “That’s it, shhh take all of me”

Bucky gave you a second to adjust to his size, his wide hands splayed across your body to hold you in place as he began to thrust up. You gasped in pleasure, your voice melting into a moan as he picked you up and placed you on his desk, pushing your thighs to hit your chest, hitting an even deeper angel.

“OH GOD-MR-BARNES” You wailed as he fucked you harder, his heard thrown back, tie loosened, tightening the grip he had on your legs, keeping you spread out wide open. He groaned at the sight of his thick cock disappearing in and out of you while you moaned and sobbed on his desk, taking everything he gave you.

“That’s right baby, say my name, let everyone know who makes you feel this good” He grunted through gritted teeth, holding off his orgasm while bringing his thumb to rub your clit again.

“I-I’m gonna-OH-GOD-PLEASEE

“Fuck you sound perfect” Bucky moaned feeling you choke his length, fluttering and pulling him deeper as your orgasm washed over you, his own release dangerously close. “God you feel so fuckin’ good when you cum baby. One more angel, just one more” Bucky practically pleaded with you, speeding up his fingers till he saw your eyes roll back, silent screams leaving your mouth as your juices soaked his balls.

“Fuck m’cumming so hard for you baby” He groaned, giving you a few more sloppy thrusts before stilling and spilling ropes of cum into you. He kept his cock inside while bending down to pick you up and sit back in his chair again. He sat with you for a while, petting your hair and kissing you, whispering sweet nothings.

“Ready to go?” He whispered, looking down to see if you’d fallen asleep while you snuggled into him with your eyes closed.

“Too tired sir” You pouted, nuzzling into his chest, refusing to move, your body too fucked out to even stand.

“I got you baby” Bucky smiled, shrugging off his blazer and wrapping you up before carrying you away in his arms, ready to take you home, right where you belonged “Gonna make love to my pretty girl”

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bitterrfruit · 1 month ago

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southpaw

boxer!Ghost x reader, ghost is lefthanded and i won't argue about this cw: dubcon - 18+ mdni So this was supposed to be one long fic but then i got carried away, here's part one of two. forgive me. [read on ao3 if you want]

You met Simon at the pub, on a Wednesday.

It had been an arduous day at work, and a long week, despite having only made it halfway through - and you were on a knife edge, exhausted and sour. It was visible at first sight of you, you wore it like a greasy, raggedy cloak when you leaned slump-shouldered over the bar.

He had drawn your attention like a magnet the moment you spotted him, the towering buzzed-blond behemoth standing alone at a tall table, a half-empty pint glass in his thick fist. You’d shoot furtive little glances in his direction, and each time they were caught.

Caught being the operative word - when you met his eye you were trapped there, forcibly hooked on him as he glowered at you like he was angry. His eyes were shadowed from where you were perched - requesting a gin and tonic, short - and you should have found that frightening. Instead the adrenaline in your belly fizzed like a pinger, a girlish buzz that made your hairs stand on end and your cunt all warm.

You would not have begrudged any male attention, in fact you were long starved of it; but you felt guilty, in a way, subjecting a man to the state you were in. Short-fused and frazzled, thin knitted scarf wrapped tight around your neck, autumn coat slipping from your drooping shoulder. You dug around in your bag for your wallet when the bartender handed you the card reader, scooping frantically through the piles of receipts and hairclips and loose tampons. Offered sheepish apologies to him; so sorry, it’s definitely in there. I’m a mess! Long day, sorry. So sorry. Sorry.

You jumped when you heard the thud of a light slap on the counter, the low huff of an exasperated man, sick and tired. Looking up from your bottomless satchel, you saw the tenner left beside the card reader, and the bartender nodded in thanks before taking it swiftly.

“No problem,” came the gruff voice from above you, implicitly chastising your lack of thanks when you tilted your head upward to blink at him.

He was pretty - your first thought - in a dirty, brutish sort of way. Heavy-browed and amber-eyed, with thick blond lashes and a deep golden stubble. He was adorned with freckles and little scars, slivers of pink and white, some fresh and some old. And when he smirked knowingly at your silence, a dimple pulled in his cheekbone, the crater of an injury once sustained.

He had just been to the gym, you could smell it on him; ripe and heady, a musk you should have been more repulsed by than you were. Instead you savoured it like some little animal, turned your head at the raw pheromones as though a doe sniffing out her stag during the rut. You could also tell as much from his gym gear, grey marled wife-beater under his unzipped black hoodie, stained with dried sweat, navy blue sport shorts that sat high on his hefty thighs and strained over their magnitude.

“You didn’t need to do that,” you said abashedly, giving him an awkward smile in the hopes of concealing your flustered embarrassment.

“I didn’t,” he agreed, and he leaned on the bar by his elbow to get a shred closer to your height. Through a haughty growl, he insisted, “You gonna thank me?”

His brazen arrogance should have put you off. You quickly got the sense he was well used to these encounters - a presumption that you’d be grateful for his interest, a raffish ease that reeked of habitual sex. You wouldn’t have called him well-practised, nothing about him was suave or carefully preened. No, instead, he was viciously masculine in a primal sort of way, rugged and unkempt around the edges. A cold gaze and a serrated smile. The kind of man that oozed testosterone and potent virility without needing to utter a word in his own favour. The unashamed lack of effort was bait in itself.

You might have dismissed him if it were a Saturday, and you had friends to discourage you and drunkenness to embolden you. But, worn-out and sober, you felt obliged to entertain the man that had paid for you. Besides, something about him gave you the impression his attention was non-negotiable.

And once you had thanked him as requested, soon followed a superficially understated conversation, though every word felt laden with some lude prescience. A simple question, then a simple answer, each delivered with more weight than the last. I’m a mechanic. Was in the army. This one’s from a scrap, got hit with a chair. From Manchester. Don’t normally come here on Wednesdays, maybe I should more often. No, not married. Yourself?

Minutes bled quickly to hours, and you didn’t spend a cent on your own alcohol. Soon you had migrated to a booth, and your sticky table became the graveyard of three gin and tonics, tired lime slices floating in the melted ice as you mindlessly prodded at them with a soggy straw. You ogled him shamelessly from the other side of the table, resting your tilted head in your palm, elbow extended on the wooden tabletop.

He was a gladiator. Broad shoulders, pure meat - every part of him was thick with muscle and padded with a warm layer of fat. Winter bulk. You imagined his mammoth arms would be soft and pillowy if you were to squish them with your hungry hands, but that they’d turn as solid as rock if he were to engage them more forcefully.

You asked him if he normally did this, went to pubs on weekdays to prey on bored working women and got them drunk so he could fuck them.

He shrugged, shook his head. “Don’t need to get ‘em drunk.”

His tone was cocksure but insincere, and you didn’t yet have a good enough read of him to determine whether or not he was joking. It wouldn’t have surprised you if he were something of a lothario, given how quickly you had been sucked into his orbit despite his astonishing apathy - and yet, something told you he was more of a prowling wolf than a peacock. The kind of man that sets his eyes on his quarry and is unsatisfied until he has her between his teeth. It made your heart shiver to imagine yourself that meal.

“Just me, then?” You bit back, thanking the bartender when he brought over a fourth gin for you and a third pint for the Mancunian.

He dropped his pint glass down hard after he took his hefty swig. “You’re putting up more of a fight than they usually do.”

“Fighting the inevitable, am I?” You teased, facetious but not entirely unserious.

“You tell me.” Is all he said.

When you checked the time and decided it was far past your bedtime, seeing four fuzzy hands on your watch, he offered to walk you home - never know who’s out this time o’ night. You decided to take him up on it, the plentiful alcohol pumping through your blood blurred your already dubious sense of self-preservation.

His vast hand travelled boldly down your back while you walked, and in a more sober state you would have told him off. Instead you giggled demurely, flicked his hand away half-heartedly just to test how quickly he’d put it back. And when he took an audacious and greedy handful of your ass you yipped at him, falsely agog, but you did nothing more to stop him. He grinned as he did it, sharp teeth, kneading your soft flesh as though evaluating how it felt in his thick fingers. Determining its adequacy.

Arriving at your door he stood behind you like a shadow, watching you key the lock and breathing down the back of your neck. Such a lecher, already so bold as to assume you’d welcome him inside, spread your legs for him after so little effort. When his hand slithered to your waist and took a presumptuous grip, so confident, you felt your fortitude begin to waver. Would it hurt?

But as you spun on your heel you blocked him out with your body in the frame, and gave him a sweet and hazy smile. A chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Not lettin’ me in?” He asked, a grumble, with just enough mirth for you to lower your hackles.

You traced along the jamb with your fingernail. “Maybe next time.”

A test, you drunkenly thought, for if he were really an unashamed cunthound you’d expect him to sulk, or to get grouchy, or to call you a fucking bitch for leading him on. Maybe, you wondered, he might dismiss your refusal entirely, shove you into the apartment with an angry paw and make you fulfil your unspoken proposal. Not much of a fight you could put up, if he were such a beast.

Instead, he merely gave you a rakish grin, and brushed your chin with his thumb. “Next time, then.”

Next time came unexpectedly on the Friday, shortly after you had come home from work; freshly showered and lotioned, you answered the knock on your door in only a blue towel wrapped around your torso. Confronted immediately by the gargantuan man on your doorstep, you stepped back in fright.

There were smudges of oil on his ruddy cheeks, grime embedded deep into the fibres of his black work jacket. With his fists in his pockets, a cigarette jutting out of his pursed lips, he sniffed brashly in the cold. “You busy?”

Your eyes scanned him shrewdly for a short moment before the memory came speeding back to you, flew across your face like a slap, and he gave you a fleeting smirk when he saw your eyes widen and your cheeks go red. The stranger from the pub remembered your address. Not something you considered as you stupidly welcomed him to walk you all the way home.

“I’m not inviting you in,” you murmured, adjusting your towel higher on your chest when you felt his gaze warm the cleavage it failed to conceal.

“Come out, then.”

His imperious persistence was another warning you should have heeded, bright red and clear as day. Not often a man so obstinate is worth pursuing. Better avoided. His resolute silence compelled you, though, made unspoken demands that you dared not refuse. He wasn’t asking, he was telling.

You didn’t recall his name until he reminded you, after you had already gotten yourself dressed and met him out the front of your apartment; Simon. You smothered your more rational counterpart with a pillow, shutting her up when she warned you about going out with the man that showed up uninvited on your doorstep - particularly this one, who had your intuition screaming at you so ferociously. Play stupid games.

He hadn’t planned a date, no prior effort had gone in beyond the sudden compulsion to come and try his luck.

“Didn’t want you to forget me,” is what he told you when you asked.

You went with him to get fried chicken - his choice, an option wasn’t given - and ate it together on a park bench. Unsophisticated and to the point, a din of crunching and sucking on toothpick bones, broken up occasionally by your coy laughter. He made no effort to conceal a potently authoritarian nature, one you had as yet only caught glimpses of, and you were ruefully drawn to it. Reared its head when he told you where to sit, how fast to walk, what not to talk about. When you had demurely requested a single small punnet of hot chips from the food truck, and he had snorted at you; “Don’t take the piss. More than that.”

You shared a cigarette with him, sat under the bare elm tree and observed the chipmunks that came to feed on the crumbs of fried batter. Talked about nothing until the sun had set and the frost began to settle.

After returning you home he quickly had you trapped against the front door of your flat, laving your flushed neck with his ravenous mouth, tongue under your jaw like he was tasting you. Palmed your cunt through your jeans with a thick hand, uncaring of passersby, and you let him persist, just for a little bit - selfishly, you thought, because you weren’t going to let him sink his cock into you yet.

It was simply an experiment, you told yourself. Some part of you was well aware of the fire you were playing with, warning you vociferously about what happened to the curious cat. And that you were - dangerously eager to know for how long he would pursue you if you abstained from presenting your cunt to him off the cuff. What might happen if you dangled your prizes in front of his nose and continued to withhold them.

His hand was so big, warm, strong like he might lift you up by it. He knew exactly where to press the heel of his palm to push a needy whine from your throat, right at the throbbing crux of your heat. If you had let him continue kneading you unfettered you’d have pathetically come inside your jeans before you had even taken him inside.

You clutched his wrist to thwart his efforts, flustered and out of breath. Sheepishly warned him; “I - I don’t put out until the third date.”

Not a conviction you’ve ever held firm on, but it has been a long while since the last time you had taken a man home. You were slightly fearful that the second you let him fuck you, he’d be satisfied and spent and move on to the next helpless woman at the pub who couldn’t find her wallet. And, in truth, you relished in starving him. Delighted in the appetite you could see swelling in his belly, frothing at his jaws when he glowered at you under dark lids.

He huffed mournfully, patience waning, as he removed his hand from between your legs with a purposeful swipe. Grumbled huskily, “You’re really testing my strength o’ character.”

You chuckled breathily as you fondled the door handle behind you, letting out a puff of relief when it gave way to you and you stumbled onto your back foot into the foyer. You could guess what he implied from his crude remark - barely a veiled threat, and yet you were only more eager to peer under the shroud.

“Mustn’t be very strong if you can’t wait a little longer,” you prodded, emboldened by the false safety of being indoors.

He nodded, gritting teeth as he adjusted his jacket. “You make it weak.”

Your throat nearly closed at that, the air suddenly warm and acrid. “Well, I hope you can hold strong till then.”

He let out a hoarse groan, rubbing his neck with stiff knuckles. Dints pulled in his temple as he clenched his jaw, exerted no effort to mask his frustrations.

“Wednesday count as date one?” He asked stiffly.

You pursed your lips as you thought of a response, conscious that if it were the first ‘date’ - in heavy quotes - he’d expect your cunt on the next. You would likely not have bemoaned that, given the thumping you felt already in the peak of your swollen bud, the slick that you felt soak into the gusset of your underwear after such moderate attention. But it was a bit of a game, now, wasn’t it? A creature within you, one whose nature was perhaps a cause for concern, wanted to see if he would crack. Wanted to know what he would do to you if he did.

“No,” you told him.

With a terse nod, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and left.

Date two came to pass on the Sunday, as presumptuously as the first, but he had at least sent you a text from an unsaved contact beforehand; picking you up in 10.

You didn’t recall giving him your number, but wistfully assumed you must have put it in his phone on the drunken night you met him.

With nothing better to do, you replied, what am I wearing?

Dress.

Following his blunt text like it were an instruction from your manager, you dug through your closet for a dress that would suffice - nothing too dressy, you didn’t want to expend too much effort - and nothing too provocative, lest you provoke him. Settled on something plain and black, dense cotton with a bit of flow and sat low on your neckline, but not too low. Once you were dressed you snapped a photo of yourself in your floor-length mirror, concealing your face with your phone, and sent it to him for his approval.

He replied after a few minutes; No stockings.

You frowned as you typed out your answer. It’s cold though.

He never followed up, and you took off the stockings.

When he arrived to pick you up in his black off-roader pickup and you hopped inside - he didn’t open the door for you - you immediately spotted a big purple welt protruding from his cheekbone, fresh and throbbing and speckled with broken capillaries. You asked him if it was the result of another ‘scrap’, so he called it, and he shook his head.

“Match last night,” he told you, before shrugging it off. Then joked - or, intended to joke; “You should see the other lad.”

“Match?” You asked him to clarify, perhaps stupidly, as he revved the rumbling engine of the four-wheeler and drove off like he was in a hurry.

The cab of his truck smelled like tobacco, and the redolence of old sweat embedded in his seat; from how often he’d hop in unshowered after working out, you guessed. There was a tired old Evian bottle in the cup-holder of the centre console, next to it a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a clear orange lighter. The passenger seat was stiff and dusty, you must have been one of very few people to have sat in it.

“Boxing,” he answered.

A boxer, you thought to yourself, eyes clinging to his bulky arm as it gripped and shoved the gearshift; forearm turning stiff as you had imagined it would, where it peeked out from the rolled sleeve of his black crewneck. Thick veins ran in webs under his skin. Tendons bulged in the back of his hand. Now that you looked more closely, you could see the bruises on his knuckles - some turned ochre yellow with age, others fresh and plum and looked tender to the touch. He’d have to have been a heavyweight, given the fucking size of him. Built like a bear, wide set and heavy and so comically tall that he looked too large for the cab of his own truck.

He took you out for dinner, a proper date, he called it - a hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant with four tables and a single waitress. Far more of a date than his last two attempts - you briefly considered counting this as date number one. He ordered himself two meals, an unsurprising quantity, and requested that both be as hot as the chef could make them.

You asked him about his boxing, and he said that he made some money from it but not quite enough to live on. That you probably wouldn’t have seen him on the telly, because he usually fought in the undercards and didn’t like the cameras.

Told you under his breath that he made more cash when the games were ‘under the table’. What that meant you weren’t certain, and he kept it thrillingly vague. “No gloves,” was how he explained it, “and no referee.” You told him that sounded illegal and he only gave you a shrug.

“Are you any good?” You asked with a kink in your brow.

He smirked at you, mouth full of rendang. “I’m alright.”

Something in his tone told you he was being humble. You felt a little giddy. “You ever knocked someone out?”

“Did last night,” he admitted indifferently.

You questioned him a little more. “Are you a violent person?”

He tilted his head either way as though considering his answer, shovelling a hunk of beef folded in naan into his mouth and chewing it thoughtfully. “Not all the time.”

A little shaken, you asked if you should be worried.

“I can be gentle,” is what he answered, with a lidded glare and the faintest smirk that flickered in his lips. You didn’t believe him.

After he paid for your meal - told you crudely to shut it when you offered to split the bill - he put you in his truck ostensibly to drive you back home. But when he missed the turn that he should have taken, you shuffled disquieted in your seat, lacking the bravery to mention it just yet. Perhaps he was simply taking an unfamiliar route.

He must have noticed your unease, because he turned his head to look down at you, but he did little to assuage your discomfort.

“Takin’ you to mine,” he declared bluntly, as though reminding you of a fact you already knew.

You blinked at him, felt the prickles of adrenaline creep down your neck like a nettle sting, an alert from your primal subconscious to a looming threat. “This is only the second date,” you diffidently reminded him.

“I know,” he said, through a toothy grin, apparently amused by your skittishness, “‘m not ready to let you go just yet.”

You nodded stiffly, chewing on the inside of your cheek and picking your nails in an anxious habit. You weren’t frightened of him - despite the awareness that you should be - if you truly were, you’d kick up much more of a fuss. But he was quite unreadable, purposefully so, and what could you possibly do if he decided he wasn’t interested in waiting any longer? Win stupid prizes.

“Don’t panic, love,” he asserted, reaching his burly arm over and taking hold of your knee, thigh dwarfed by his hand as he gave your meat a quick squeeze. “Not interested in takin’ what I haven’t earned.”

His terraced flat was modest and unadorned, a skinny three-storey house sandwiched between rows of similar boxes. Two windows per floor. A layer of tan stucco smeared over its brick. No garden, only some moss and a few sprouting weeds, and a wrought iron fence that lined the sidewalk out the front.

He pulled his pickup to a stop on the side of the road, killed the engine and barked an order at you as he opened the door, “Out y’get.”

The street was barren and dark, and every breath you let out echoed in the lifeless silence. Not even after nine in the evening and the neighbourhood seemed to be devoid of inhabitants, only one or two windows glowed from within - an indication of at least some life. You felt a chill as you stepped out onto the road, tightened your arms around your torso as you wandered bashfully behind him to his front step. He huffed impatiently as he jammed his keys in the lock, shoving and shimmying them loudly until the door reluctantly gave way to him.

He marched into the depths of his flat, swallowed by the darkness within - didn’t bother to turn on the light. You only saw which direction he had headed once a yellow light flickered on in a distant room down the hall. Shutting his front door behind you, leaving it unlocked, you quietly walked in the direction of the light.

His flat was painfully undecorated. Raw, messy with clutter and miscellaneous belongings, in stacks and piles, on tables and chairs. Torn open envelopes, old socks, misplaced boots. Jackets hung over the bannister and sweaters over the backs of his seats. You found yourself in an open kitchen and living room, bare save for the odd piece of secondhand furniture and empty bottles of beer dotted about the place.

You found him leaning into an open fridge, illuminated by its dim bluish light. “Can I getcha somethin’?”

“Um,” you pondered, failing to conceal your unwelcome nerves, a shiver in your voice. “No - thank you, I’m okay.”

He shrugged as he shut the fridge door with his elbow, a bottle of Carlsberg dwarfed in his hand. Stuck the top in his open mouth and popped off the cap with his teeth in a horrid crack, spat it aimlessly into the kitchen. “Suit yourself.”

He left you standing like a fool as he went to sit himself down on his sofa, landing in it with a gruff and satisfied sigh. Sunk into the cushions and spread his knees to make himself comfortable, big enough that he took up two seats of the three-seater. He reached for the remote and turned on the telly, volume low, but audibly some football game or other.

His eyes fastened on you, though - narrow and pointed as though you had been caught in his crosshairs. He tipped his beer into a jutted jaw, took a noisy and insouciant sip.

“All shy now?” He asked.

A defensive no caught in your throat and it emerged as a quiet hiccup. You wanted to smack yourself. “I just - I’m not sure why I’m here.”

He huffed testily. ”Want to go home, do you?”

You knew you should say yes. “No - no it’s not that. I’m - I’m okay.”

He cracked a grin, a flash of teeth before it vanished. “Do I make you that nervous?”

“I’m not nervous,” you retorted, voice higher-pitched than would otherwise be convincing.

“C’mere, then.” He gestured a lazy hitherto with three fingers, an edge in his glare.

Your feet were moving before you disputed. “What for.”

“Siddown,” he grunted.

Better judgement hammering at you, you hesitated before you obeyed, standing in front of him but just out of reach.

“What’re you so afraid of, sweethear’,” he asked richly, and you blinked at him before looking down at your hands.

“I’m not,” you insisted. “Just not - not really used to this sort of thing.”

“No?” He questioned with aplomb, pride oozing from him like crude oil. “Been a while, has it?”

You fawningly shrugged. “Guess so.”

“Am I taking you home, then?”

The second time he had offered it, though this time there was something discerning in his tone; cocksure yet challenging, a last call. Resolved, you sat down mousily in the cushion next to him. Shrivelled so that you took up as little space as possible, held your arms tight to your body.

You shook your head, steadfast. “No, that’s okay.”

He let slip a grin at your answer, canines sharp and catching the glint of the dim television in front of him. You thought he might hang his mammoth arm over your shoulder, or rest a hand on your thigh; might test the waters with a noncommittal touch to see how you reacted to his crossing of the boundary.

But he had no such subtlety nor restraint - instead he slipped his hand behind you and hooked you by the waist, hoisting you one-armed from your distant spot with the ease of picking up a house cat. You let out a sharp gasp as he plonked you on his left knee so that you straddled it, back firm against his side as he riveted you in place with his forearm.

You yelped as you were made to forcibly bestride his thigh, left tongue-tied in your shock and momentarily unable to utter a word of dispute. Heart set to panic, scarcely able to subdue your hurricane of thoughts, you exerted all effort wriggle out of his grip - bucked and twisted and pulled, all painfully futile.

His strength was unfathomable and frightening, the muscles of his only restraining arm hardly even tensed to hold you in place. It was easy for him. He briefly leaned to the side to dump his beer on the side table.

You barked; “Simon - let go of-”

Me was muffled by the right hand that swiftly sealed over your mouth, fingertips burrowing into your cheeks, the top of his hand tucked under your nose and barely allowed you to suck in a breath.

He shushed you quick and sharp, and you let out a defeated moan as you persisted in your attempts to writhe free. You clamped your legs closed around his thigh as if you might seal off your cunt from him, but he simply let out a breathy chuckle - lightly bounced his knee to remind you that he had you wedged open as he pleased, and the force beared down on your centre with each jolt had you squeaking like a mouse into his palm.

“Settle down,” he chided, stern-toned, you felt the coarse stubble of his jaw scrape down the side of your face as he craned his head beside yours. “Don’t you kick up a fuss now.”

His colossal paw raked up your thigh, hitching the forgiving fabric of your skirt along with it and leaving pointy gooseflesh in its wake.

Still you squirmed, but your defensive tenacity was rapidly fizzling away - doused with the sobering knowledge that you had made the very bed he was now forcing you to lie in.

“You knew what you were after when you came out, didn’t you,” he snarled, accusing, lifting the hem of your skirt up to your belly.

You shook your head as ferociously as he allowed you to, his suffocating hand stifling both your movement and your breathing. You whined into his clammy palm, hoping he’d be able to translate the sounds you made in place of words; not yet.

Whether or not he understood, he ignored you; his fingertips clawed over your mound, catching in the thin fabric of the plain underwear you wore under your dress - dug into the leg hole where the hem sat against your groin, before yanking it to the other side. He tugged at the elasticated cotton, shimmying the gusset so it was entirely out of his way; cunt bare and exposed, your vealy lips rubbed raw against the rough denim of his jeans.

“Like a cat in heat, eh?” He grumbled, feeding his imperious hand between your legs where they were held open by his titanic thigh. Jammed his thick fingers into your folds without hesitation, indifferent to your whimpering.

His solid nose buried under your ear, right into the underside of your jaw, and he took a deep and wolfish sniff. “Can fuckin’ smell it on you.”

You winced as he pressed the pads of two fingers against your twitching opening, not yet slick; nudging at the precipice as though hoping to milk you of your nectar - but he didn’t puncture you. Instead, he languidly dragged them back up to your timid bud where it was hidden under its hood, used your scant fluid to barely lubricate his incursion.

He bucked his knee, making you bounce into a better position for him. Began chafing circles with the tips of mean fingers, kneading out your clit with a steady pressure that made you sob into the palm of his restraining hand.

He was deft, knew how to make quick work of you - you felt your watery blood turn viscous and hot, it flooded down the middle of you as though spiralling an open drain. Pumped warm right into the centre of your bud and made it shudder and swell, twitched with hypersensitivity.

Morally, you spurned it, fought against it viciously - the man so arrogant and cruel as to forcibly pleasure you despite vehement protest. But your feeble body spoke far louder, betrayed you with its carnal appetite. Your acrid resistance turned to pudding under his abrasive hand.

No longer wrestling, your hips leaned into him, spine arching and curling, flesh so pathetically desperate for purchase that it begged implicitly in spite of your expressed dispute.

He sensed your blossoming acquiescence, heard your grunts and moans of defiance melt into high-pitched, needy whines; you felt his wrenching grip of you soften and a rough smile curl against your cheek.

“Tha’s it,” he purred, low voice thrummed directly into your skin. You could only mewl into his palm like a trapped animal, his hand growing wet against your mouth. “Tha’s what you were after, eh? All that whingeing.”

A wanton oh, fuck, was muted by his palm as he slowed and eased his pace, no longer toiling to subdue you. With two fingers flat against the crux of your folds, he ran them up and down your seam - uncovering your puffy clit with each upward stroke and making you flinch with the shock.

You tightened your legs around his thigh on reflex, curling your pelvis away from his touch as you grew so sensitive it began to burn - but your range of motion was sorely limited, and relief you could not find.

He removed his smothering hand from your mouth and smoothed it down your waist, finding the meat of your hip and taking a fastening grip. Anchored your pelvis still and held you down, exacerbating the pressure on your cunt; parting it like a butterfly and grinding his coarse denim against flushed lips, you felt your slick seep out of you and soak the fabric underneath it.

You rocked your head back against his collarbone, feeling its rigidity at the back of your skull, and your eyes fluttered shut; you felt his hot breathing on the side of your head, an airy chortle at your whimpering capitulation. He only slowed his infliction, gently grazing your yearning clit as though to tease it, to force you to debase yourself as you pleaded for his brutality.

“F-fuck-” You mewled, face flustered, skin febrile - you were suddenly so infuriatingly close, wracked by a surging current that shuddered into your core and made you spasm and shiver. The dawning heat was abruptly overpowering, and you leaned desperately into his hand to chase it. “Simon - Please - I-”

Every attempt you made to speak or complain was bitten off by an indulgent sob, weak and pleading cries, begging him to release you.

“Please, what?” He gloated deeply, you could hear his smug grin without having to see it. “Speak up.”

Your mind was frayed, and your tongue was fat and heavy in your mouth. You squeezed out your answer through a strained whine; “I’m - I’m going to-”

“Y’gonna come, are you?” He mocked, voice rumbling and cruel. Seemed to find immense satisfaction in your pathetic desperation.

He pressed down on your scalding clit and forced a pained cry from your throat when you failed to answer him.

“Y-yes,” you bawled, driven close to pitiful tears.

He pinched your plump and angry bud between his fingers and made you jolt, before he let out a chuckle, and his hand glided out from between your legs. Left glossy trails of your syrup up your mound, your belly, as he abandoned you.

An agonised groan lept from your chest as you buckled forward, wrecked with desperation, suddenly and brutally hollow.

“Taste o’ your own medicine, eh?” He crooned, haughty, he smacked the side of your thigh with two firm pats as if to reassure you. “I don’t put out easy, either.”

You only sobbed, deafened by the thunder of your throbbing blood in your ears, cunt still so ravenous you were rendered a slave to it. You were unconsciously grinding your cunt on his thigh, rocking your hips, hissing at the abrasion of the denim on your clit - but it was better than nothing.

“Look at you,” he snorted, leaning back on the sofa with his arms hung over the back, as if to enjoy the show. As he reached for his abandoned beer, he chided; “Fuckin’ needy slut, aren’t you?”

He glided a hand up your spine as you rode his leg like a little animal, and maybe you could finish yourself off like that, if you tried hard enough - but his claw settled at the back of your neck and took malicious hold. He yanked you back by it so that your head knocked against his shoulder, the angle he had you at starving your clit once more.

“‘Nuff o’ that, sweethear’,” he muttered into your temple. “You can wait, like me.”

You whimpered, the humiliation finally having caught up to you - it rained over you cold and bitter, and you suddenly wanted to run and hide.

He put both paws on your hips, then, and hoisted you up and off of him - dumped you into the sofa cushion beside him and you landed with a bounce.

You grunted bitterly, still panting. “You’re such a-” you breathed, twitching. “Prick.”

“Careful,” he grumbled, scolding you, and you sealed your lips.

After a short and breathless silence, you heard him chuckle to himself as he stuck his beer between his lips, swallowing a frothy sip as if he hadn’t just left you a wreck.

You glanced at him, to see what was so funny - and you saw him swipe his thigh with his thumb, a mortifying patch darkened by your slick, more than you had thought, soaked through.

“Fuckin’ mess you made,” he jeered, voice low and harsh as though distracted. He grunted out a tiresome sigh. “Gonna be tough to wait for date three, eh?”

You only nodded, mind blunt and blurry, suddenly remembering the rule you had set.

“What’ve you got in mind,” you puffed, shimmying your dress back over your thighs to regain some of your stolen decency.

He sucked his teeth, rocked his head as he took another sip of his Carlsberg.

“Come watch me fight,” he said.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #bitterfruit fics #bitten-fruit

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rainerioun · 4 months ago

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𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖥𝖴𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖤 𝖲𝖯𝖮𝖴𝖲𝖤'𝖲 𝖥𝖠𝖵𝖮𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖤𝖲 𝖵𝖲. 𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖱𝖲 | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— This will explore what your future spouse will love 'most' about you, and vice versa. If you feel more aligned with the first half, simply swap the perspectives. Sometimes, you might resonate more with your future spouse's vibe. Thank you!

ORIGINAL DATE POSTED : MARCH 29TH, 2024.

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST | KO-FI

PILE ONE

What Will They Like Most About You Physically? Figure, Height, Fingers, Hands.

When pulling out traits, I found several signs indicating a plump or chubby appearance. If you relate to this, rest assured they adore it, especially how it complements your height. I envision someone squeezing a teddy bear - in this case, you. They find you incredibly cute. Your hands and fingers, perhaps used frequently in your work or hobbies, captivate them. They'll marvel at the way your fingers glide over a page or mold something, appreciating your movements. It feels very poetic, in a way.

What Will They Like Most About You Mentally? Free Spirit, Sensitive, Homebody, Unstoppable.

Aw, your future spouse will surely have a nurturing side. They'll tend to coddle you, in a healthy way, of course. They admire how you pursue your desires with a free-spirited approach despite your introverted and sensitive nature. They'll likely encourage you to take breaks and relax, treating you like royalty. There's a distinct vibe of 'I hate everyone but you' coming through.

What Will They Like Most About You? Teacher — Light : Ability to Communicate Knowledge, Experience, Skill or Wisdom. Healer — Light : Passion to Serve Others by Repairing the Body, Mind, and Spirit. Ability to Help Transform Pain into Healing. Guide — Light : Represents the Nature of the Divine in Life and in Yourself.

They'll be quick to notice your depth of knowledge, not just on a conventional level but also on a spiritual one. Your future spouse will appreciate your natural ability to teach, guide, and heal others even when it's not your intention. Your wisdom may extend to philosophical terms, offering advice on profound matters that aren't easily grasped by others.

What Will They Like Most About You? Crow : Spiritually Strong, Creative, Watchful, Psychic, Strong, Clear. Butterfly : Undergoing Great Change and Transformation. Cheerful, Graceful.

Your future spouse will lean towards practicality more than you do and might not gravitate toward certain metaphysical ideas and theories as easily as you. They'll be amazed by your ability to understand such concepts. While they are intelligent, they tend to favor strict rules, whereas you thrive on constant change and learning experiences.

I'd like to add that I sense this person is deliberately holding back, choosing not to reveal much. They want it to be a surprise just how much they love you. Don't worry, they genuinely adore everything about you, even though they may have favorites.

What Will You Like Most About Them Physically? Hair, Rugged, Nose, Tired-Looking, Eyelashes, Face Shape.

When I was pulling traits, I couldn't help but think of Shōta Aizawa from My Hero Academia in terms of appearance, haha. Of course, this could be a woman or nonbinary individual, but they definitely give off a similar vibe physically. They might appear a bit rough or scruffy, and you'll find that attractive. I'm not getting any specifics on hair color, but I envision thick, longer hair that might look a bit disheveled. They possess that tired charm, which softens their face in a way. I see them having a hooked nose of some kind.

What Will You Like Most About Them Mentally? Spiritual, Reliable, Oblivious, Compassionate, Sassy, Intelligent, Mysterious.

Once again, your future spouse is intelligent but may lack in certain areas that you find amusing. They possess two distinct sides, perhaps being book-smart but lacking in common sense. However, I believe you'll help balance them out, whatever the situation may be. They'll initially have a mysterious, stoic persona, but you'll have the ability to break through it and discover their true sweetness. You will enjoy receiving attention from them, considering their reserved nature. While your humor aligns in some ways, this person is likely more inclined towards being sassy and witty rather than being a 'jokester'. At first, they won't be heavily into spirituality, or whatever you practice, but they'll become intrigued by your experiences and eventually find themselves following in your footsteps.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Storyteller — Light : Ability to Experience and Express Life through Stories and Symbols. Prince — Light : Romantic Charm and Potential for Power. Poet — Light : Expresses Soul Insights in Symbolic Language. Hermit — Light : Seeks Solitude to Focus Intently on Inner Life. Serves Personal Creativity.

Your future spouse is someone who expresses and feels love in an incredibly artistic manner. They have a secret, hopeless romantic inside. It's not just modern love; it's almost like you both worship each other, which I find incredibly beautiful. Seeing you in such a light will lead them to see you in other things, like art pieces or written words. They love you wholeheartedly. Adding on, creatively, you'll complement each other well. One side may lean towards being artistic and dreamy, while the other is innovative and a bit nerdy. You are both bound to swoon over each other.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Eagle : All-Pervading Power, Truth Seeker, Transforms Karma, Bright, Radiant, Challenger. Tiger : Lunar Force, Ease in Darkness, Passionate, Strong, Sensual.

With the eagle card, I'm not picking up on what you'll like about them, but rather another message about how you'll spark intense curiosity in them. You will inspire them to enlighten themselves and become an even better version of themselves with your teachings and guidance. Now, for the next card, this is something you'll definitely appreciate about them. I don't sense that this person will be shy when it comes to intimacy, in any form, and they won't hold back in showing how they love you.

Extra : Journaling, Eye Contact, Flowers, Parallel Play, Running Fingers Through Hair, Late Mornings, Poetry, Leaving Notes.

Best Mistake : Ariana Grande. | Movement : Hozier.

PILE TWO

What Will They Like Most About You Physically? Eyes, Hair, Piercings, Harmonious Features.

Your future spouse believes that your hair and features complement each other perfectly, creating harmony. Your hair may frame your face. They'll enjoy gazing into your eyes, possibly because of the connection they feel or simply because they find them captivating, whether it's the shape, color, or both. If you have an alternative style, such as piercings, tattoos, or darker attire, they find it very alluring.

What Will They Like Most About You Mentally? Wit, Sneaky, Bookworm, Deep-Thinker, Reserved, Needy.

This person views you as a fox, sly, clever, and witty, and they're drawn to that energy. They appreciate your complexity and the fact that you're not always straightforward; it keeps things interesting. They enjoy being challenged intellectually. However, they also appreciate the softer side of you when you're relaxed and in need, and they'll gladly cater to you. I imagine them watching you as you indulge in your hobbies, eager to hear you gush about your interests.

What Will They Like Most About You? Advocate — Light : Inspires You to Put Compassion into Action. Poet — Light : Expresses Soul Insights in Symbolic Language. Child : Nature — Light : Friendships with Animals. Communication with Nature Spirits.

Whatever way you choose to create and express yourself, whether, through art, music, or even activities like photography, they'll find it intriguing. They admire both your process and the results you achieve. This person will always be your supporter. You might work with animals, and they appreciate your gentleness and kindness towards them, or perhaps animals hold significance in your connection.

What Will They Like Most About You? Nightingale : Fearless Voice, Speech, Communication, or Song. Sings and Speaks Freely with Kindness. Moth : Impulsive, Hasty, Wishful, Enthusiastic, Whimsical.

When I pulled the cards, I initially wrote down the wrong definition for the nightingale. I've corrected it, but I thought the previous message might still resonate. If you're someone naturally very curious and actively trying to learn, they'll follow right behind you. They're loyal, just like you, and will start doing things you do because they're inspired by your enthusiasm and positivity. If you were drawn to pile one, I'd recommend giving it a read as well. You may find something there because these piles are quite similar.

An additional message is that you and your future spouse will connect through music, whether it's listening together or separately. So, you could be receiving signs now through songs.

What Will You Like Most About Them Physically? Texture of Hair, Tone of Skin, Height, Prominent Nose, Dyed Hair.

I sense your future spouse might have an alternative style as well, but it's not a must. If you're into dyed hair, they'll likely have it They could change colors with the seasons to suit their skin tone, or the color they have fits them year-round. You will enjoy the feel of their hair due to the texture which causes you to play with it. Generally, if you're taller than average, they'll be shorter, and if you're average height, they'll be similar. Either way, you'll like looking down at them or meeting their gaze directly.

Once again, whether you're drawn to pile one or not, I'd suggest going back and giving it a read as well. While the energies differ, I sense the message is similar. I feel like this pile is suited for individuals with eccentric tastes.

What Will You Like Most About Them Mentally? Sweetheart, Odd Humor, Confident, Adaptable, Ambivert, Clingy.

You and your future spouse will be inseparable, attached to the hip, if not driven by their clinginess then it's your own. It's something that makes both of you feel secure. They are the type to talk your ear off. This person's humor leans towards the darker or drier side. They might find everything amusing, but particularly society's less-than-normal aspects.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Networker — Light : Enchanted Unity through the Sharing of Informations. Engenders Social Awareness and Empathy. Gossip — Light : Awakens Consideration for the Feeling of Others. Honoring Trust.

I wasn't kidding when I said your future spouse will talk your ear off. They are quite the chatterbox. They'll be a drama queen, regardless of gender, but I think it's in a very playful and goofy way. You'll find it charming. They'll get super excited and giddy when they have a juicy secret to share with you. They're such a sweetheart that they would never intend any negativity, just relaying information without passing genuine judgment.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Octopus : Reaching, Yearning, Lacking Boundaries and Direction. Getting into Other People's Business and Sharing Their Own. Interested, Engaged. Wolf : Guardian of Family and Tribe. Activism, Ritual, Reliable, Fearless, Democratic. Embrace All, Exclude None.

What have I been saying? This person cracks me up. You'll adore how dependable they are, always a shoulder to cry on or a pillar of stability for you and others. They're just a people person. I sense they could become overly sensitive, requiring alone time. They tend to overshare, which is amusing when it's just the two of you, but you might need to help them rein it in around others. They can be a bit oblivious to social cues and may need some guidance when they're pushing the boundaries.

I sense they're internally extroverted but can get overwhelmed and find it difficult to handle social situations, even if they desire socialization.

Extra : Movie Nights, Bubble Baths, Parks, Sunshine, Wheezing, Glasses Perched on Nose, Comfort through Affection, Wrapped in a Blanket, Cheek Kisses.

Valentine : Laufey. | November : Sparkbird.

PILE THREE

What Will They Like Most About You Physically? Glow, Eyebrows, Lips, Your Frame.

Your future spouse will be drawn to the glow you exude. They find your bright personality radiating through every aspect of you, from your skin's natural shine to your expressive eyes and the curve of your lips. Even the way you carry yourself captivates them, unintentionally flaunting, which catches their attention.

What Will They Like Most About You Mentally? Innocent, Active, Hardworking, Compassion.

Firstly, they hold you dear, especially if you're not one to pause or slow down due to your hardworking nature. You could have somewhat of an innocent worldview—not that you don't understand hardship, but you maintain a strength and light that others lack. They'll absolutely love this side of you and cherish you.

What Will They Like Most About You? Fool — Light : Fearlessly Revealing Emotion. Helping People Laugh at Absurdity and Hypocrisy. Warrior — Light : Strength, Skill, Disipline, and Toughness of Will. Heroism, Stoicism, and Self-Sacrifice in Conquering the Ego. Mediator — Light : Gift for Negotiating Fairness and Strategy in Personal and Professional Life. Respect for Both Sides of an Arguement.

Your future spouse will admire how, despite being a logical person, you're not afraid to show emotion when necessary. You navigate life with a balance of logic and emotion, displaying good discipline. You're not impulsive and can guide others through hardships without coming across as harsh, bringing lightheartedness and fairness into the mix. They'll find this quality honorable. Your humor always serves as a mediator in situations, never failing to lighten the mood for them and others.

What Will They Like Most About You? Cobra : Pausing, Waiting, The Inner Teacher, A Student of Life, Humble, Wise. Fire Ant : Aggression, Rigid Thinking, Following Orders, Thoughtful, Disciplined, Heat.

Your future partner could have experienced instability with others in the past due to hasty behavior, or they struggle themselves with acting too quickly. On the other hand, you give yourself time, thinking before you act. Yet, when you do move forward, you do so with an assertive and direct demeanor, which makes them grateful they can lean on you for stability.

What Will You Like Most About Them Physically? Nose, Neck / Collar Bone Area, Elegant and Composed, Chin, 'Bunny Beauty'.

Your future spouse has a very approachable appearance. Their face might remind many of a bunny. I imagine this person with a rounder nose and face, perhaps chubby cheeks, but with a prominent chin and jaw instead. They look well put together and carry an elegant quality about them. You'll endlessly adore your partner. It's very cute.

What Will You Like Most About Them Mentally? Bad Mouth, Neat, Stubborn, Loyal.

Their appearance versus their personality could easily turn heads. They seem sweet and soft, but use harsh language often, cussing like a sailor. They look nice but act naughty. They're also incredibly stubborn, which apparently you'll find appealing. You'll anticipate others' reactions when they open their mouth, finding it amusing. As for you, I sense it's the opposite. You might appear a bit intimidating but are actually very gentle.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Detective — Light : Great Powers of Observation and Intuition. Desire to Seek Out the Truth. Midas/Miser — Light : Entrepreneurial or Creative Ability to Turn Anything to Gold. Delight in Sharing Life's Riches.

This person will readily share their wealth or achievements with you. Your future spouse might have a good-paying job, or money could come easily to them, possibly through generational wealth. However, I sense that they just know how to handle money wisely and earn it with help from their well-built knowledge.

I don't get the sense that they're materialistic or chasing money, but rather that they invest in things that make a meaningful impact, like travel or once-in-a-lifetime experiences. They have achieved financial stability, but they also have wealth in terms of nonmaterial things.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Bat : Darkness, Letting Go, Death Leading to Rebirth, Excepts and Adapts, Adjusts. Swan : Effortless, Creativity, Sensitive Mystic, Elegant Power.

Returning to that elegant aura they have, I can't pinpoint exactly what causes it, but it might be because they are highly intuitive and sensitive to others' thoughts and feelings. They easily pick up on these subtleties and can adapt and change accordingly. Despite their effortless beauty, they are a complex person on the inside. You find them to be a puzzle worth solving.

Additional. Another Message.

For a few of you, I believe you may not immediately hit it off with your future spouse. Your composed nature might clash with their boldness, leading to disagreements stemming from stubbornness or a desire for "correct behavior." However, you'll both eventually look past it, but initially, it might feel like something out of an enemies-to-lovers book. It won't be extreme, but it could get a little heated. This could form in a workplace.

[NEVER SETTLE FOR SOMETHING TOXIC. I MEANT SIMPLE BANTER, NOT ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR.]

Extra : Sleek Attire, Slicked Hair, RomCom, Tattoos, Generational Insight/Knowledge, Promise Rings, Military, Dreamy, Shared Earbuds, Sharp Glares and Glances.

Make You Feel Good : Fetty Wap. | Powerful : Major Lazer. | Cry : Cigarettes After Sex.

PILE FOUR

What Will They Like Most About You Physically? Voice, Beauty Marks, Lips, Eyes.

I want to mention that either you or this individual could be a musician, while the other serves as a muse. Whether or not it's you, your future partner will love hearing you sing. They find your everyday speaking voice charming, especially its soft, breathy quality. While eye contact with them may not be 'intense', it feels profoundly connecting and grounding. If you wear makeup, this person likes it. Perhaps it's the shape of your lips or their natural color, but I believe that wearing lipstick or gloss, anything that enhances your features will allure them even more.

What Will They Like Most About You Mentally? Shy, Tender, Well-Versed, Open, Quiet, Devoted.

Aw, I wish I could give you all a hug! You're so tender and gentle in both your words and your actions. You're devoted not only to your loved ones but also to the things that bring you joy. Your future spouse will find this incredibly endearing.

I'm sensing more about how deeply they love you rather than the specifics of what they like. When you meet this person, it'll feel like being showered with affection and passion. They genuinely value every aspect of you and want to express that.

What Will They Like Most About You? Angel — Light : Helping Those In Need with No Expectation of Return. Damsel — Light : Understanding the Nature of Healthy Romance. Inspires You to Rely on Yourself.

You not only embody the qualities of the cards, but I sense that your future spouse will view you as an angel. They might even adopt it as a nickname if you're fond of the idea. You're the shining beacon in their life, their prince/princess, which I admit can sound a bit cheesy or even cringe, but in your case, it's incredibly sincere and pure.

What Will They Like Most About You? Peacock : Inner Beauty, Compassion, Confident, Kind. Gazelle : Heighten Awareness, Ability, Vulnerable, Perceptive, Graceful.

Your future spouse sees you as stunning both on the outside and within. Your physical beauty is undeniable, but it's your soul that truly captivates them. They'll be in awe of its depth and beauty. Your future spouse may gawk awkwardly over you, yet it will be funny.

What Will You Like Most About Them Physically? Physically Expressive, Dewy Skin, 'Cat Beauty', Pout, Clear Skin, Freckles.

This person's skincare routine is godly. Their eyes and gestures are incredibly expressive, drawing people in. You'll notice their natural pout, which adds to their charm. Their features will have a feline or fierce quality, with high cheekbones, defined features, and possibly a smaller yet thick nose. They might also have a longer face or narrow eyes.

What Will You Like Most About Them Mentally? Funny, Loner, Eccentric, Sensitive, Humble.

Your person is a bit of an oddball, in the best way. They embrace their inner nerd or geek often. Your personalities are a perfect match, and I can see you both enjoying plenty of alone time together because you don't drain each other's social batteries. They're self-aware and true to themselves, no matter what.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Don Juan — Light : Spotlights Your Positive Seductive Qualities. Child : Eternal — Light : Determination to Remain Young in Body, Mind, and Spirit. Ability to See Things with Fresh Eyes. Guide — Light : Represents the Nature of the Divine in Life and in Yourself.

While they may seem reserved, this person radiates confidence when they're with you. They know how to play their cards right—they can talk the talk and walk the walk. But underneath it all, they're playful and childlike at heart. No matter how old they get, they'll always carry a lighthearted and curious energy, like a kid. Life with them will never be boring.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Black Egg : Speaking from an Authentic Voice, Truth. Bee : Earnest, Hard-Working, Content, Vibrant.

Your future spouse will be an honest person, always speaking their inner truth, even with strangers. They're not afraid to be vibrant, and I have a feeling that will influence you as well. Communication is important to them in this life. As I mentioned earlier, they could be a musician. If not, with their persuasive skills, they could find success as a public speaker or influencer of some sort.

Extra : Spying From Corners or Doorways [Playfully, of course], Singing, Puppy Dog/Pleading Eyes, Feather-Light Touch, Pinky Promise, Junk Drawer, Piggy Bank.

Don’t Be Afraid : Carpenters. | Brooklyn : Lana Del Rey.

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sorapricots · 3 months ago

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Breaking Point

Summary: In the way where you start to lose your shit after teaching the children in Xavier Institute for so long, your partner Logan decided it's time to take a break.

Pair: Husband!Logan Howlett x Mutant!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Curse words, reader have regenerative healing factor like Logan so she is actually as older as as Charles but look young, reader is married to logan, blood mention,

A/N: it might seems crazy that I only come back here to write about Logan but damn I just cannot take my mind off from Logan. I might make one for Wade Wilson too tho. Also in all honesty I am not 100% proud with this one, but I just need to write this man so bad. So maybe I’m gonna make another one.

Wc: 1,8k

Beep... beep... beep...

You quickly turn off your alarm with a groan as you push yourself to sit on your bed. Another groan escaped your lips when you realized you broke another alarm for the third time this week and your husband is not beside you. You wipe your face harshly as you walk to the bathroom.

You take a cold quick shower in hope it can help you freshen up. A tired sigh was heard as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Eye bags can be seen even though it's not very noticeable. You quickly grab a concealer to hide your eye bags. Once you are satisfied with your concealer you quickly put on your daily-go-to make up and decide to put on a more neutral color outfit instead of your usual colorful one.

A black turtleneck paired with your favorite jeans, as you put on a worn-out brown leather jacket, and you decide to wear your boots for the last touch. You quickly put your wedding band on your finger before you forget it. And you decided to put the necklace your husband, Logan, bought for you almost 10+ years ago. You smile a little bit as your fingers carefully caress the vintage looking necklace.

As you grab your bedroom handle, you stop to kiss your wedding band, a habit you do before you start your day. Deep down in your heart, you hope today will be a more bearable day than the previous day. But of course your wish is only a mere wish when the moment you open the door you see students running past you with full speed almost hitting you.

"Kids! No running in the hall!" You warned them before you carefully stepped out of your bedroom.

"Good morning!" Ororo quipped when she saw you step into the kitchen. A mug of coffee in her hand and a muffin in the other. You give her a sweet smile before you grab yourself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, ro. Have you seen Logan?" You softly asked as you sat yourself in one of the stools. Ororo looks at you for a second before blinking, trying to remember where the last time she saw the rugged guy.

"Oh I saw him walk to the classroom, looks like he has History class to teach today." You hummed a bit as you took a sip from your mug. Eyes slowly darting to the clock beside the fridge.

"Ah shoot, I have class too. See you later, Ro." You quickly downed your coffee and put your mug in the sink before you walked to your class. You can hear Ororo wish you good luck as you walk away.

As you approach the classroom you can hear some of the students chattering. You take a deep breath before you open the door. Revealing a bit of chaos the students cause. You can feel the corner of your eyebrow twitch but you just let it slide as the students quickly take a seat when they see you.

"Good morning, everyone. I hope you had a nice rest last night. And I hope the assignment I gave last week is finished and ready to be submitted. Please put your work on my desk so I can grade it later." You speak as you grab some of the old literature books that you have. Students start piling up in front of your desk to put their assignments. All of them except one, John. He's known for not being punctual when it's about submitting assignments.

"John, where is your assignment?" You softly asked him as you try to calm down yourself as you can feel your patience running thin. He scratched his head before he let out an apologetic look.

"Sorry, Professor. I kind of forgot about it." He answered with full honesty. You close your eyes for a second before you give him a smile.

"It's okay, but as an exchange I want you to write a resume about this Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen and I want you to submit it tonight." John almost let out a protest but decided not to when he saw you giving a look. His body slumped down on his desk before he nodded. You then continue your teaching session.

Suddenly there's a knock on your classroom door. You let out a quick come in as you write down something about old literature on the board.

"Professor, Professor Hank asked you to meet him in his class." You turn around to see Rogue standing on the entry door.

"Okay, thank you, Rogue. The class ends for today then. Make sure you do the assignment that I give you for today and I want it to be submitted next week. John, please do your assignment. I will wait for your resume tonight." Students start to pack up their belongings as you tidying up your desk. Then you walk to Hank's classroom to meet him.

A very chaotic sound can be heard in his class. You also hear Logan screaming. Your brows furrowed as you opened the classroom door. Suddenly you see a beaker with some weird color liquid in it flying and hitting your face.

The classroom went quiet as sizzle can be heard. You stare at the people in the classroom blankly as your hand slowly touches your face. You can feel your skin sticky with both the weird liquid and blood. Eyes darted to Logan, Hank, and the students making sure no one else hurt as you feel pain on your face start to numb out due to your healing factor.

"Shit." Logan quickly went to you as he held your face to make sure you heal properly. Ignoring the residue of the weird liquid that is still on your skin. You stare at him before your eyes start to become glossy. You rapidly blink your eyes while Logan pulls you into a hug. Trying to calm you down by swaying both of your body softly. Muffled sobs can be heard as he strokes your back.

"Hey, it's okay Bub. I got you. I'm here." Logan tries to pull you impossibly closer than he already did. He quickly looks behind him, telling Hank that he will be right back. Hank just gives him a quick nod before he starts to instruct the students to tidy up the mess they created.

Logan quickly picks you up with bridal style and starts walking back to your shared room with you still crying in his arms. Your hands held to his neck as you shoved your face to his neck. Try to find comfort in his musky, pine, and mixed with tobacco scent.

Logan then proceeds to put you on your shared bed softly as soon as you both are inside the bedroom. He quickly picks his shirt and your shorts for you to change as he knows you always find comfort in his shirt. He went into the bathroom to grab your makeup wipes before he came back to you who was still sobbing with hands covering your face.

"Look up, pretty girl." He carefully pulls your hands and holds your chin. Frowning a bit when he saw your mascara ran down on your cheeks and red nose. He carefully wiped your makeup away and his frown deepened as he saw your eyebags. He leans down to kiss your forehead and your sobs get harder.

“Take a deep breath darling. I’m not going anywhere.” Logan starts to cup your face as he starts to lead you on taking deep breaths with him. You follow him soon after and a thin smile creeps up his face.

“Atta girl.” his calloused hand softly stroking your head as your sobs start to calm down. Your husband then continues to clean your face from makeup. You slowly lift one of your hands to hold his wrist that is still busy cleaning up your face. Logan then leans in to give you a quick peck on each of your eyes, nose, and lastly your lips before he pulls away. His hands carefully took off the necklace that he gave for you before carefully storing it back in the box. You slowly peel off your jacket and jeans as he walks back to you.

“Hands up, baby.” He instructed you as he took a seat beside you and he pulled your turtleneck up. You obeyed him by putting your hands up in the air. Allowing him to pull your turtleneck. He then starts to stroke your almost naked back, making you feel his warm palms to let you know that he is with you.

“I’m gonna take your bra off okay?” he softly asked while his palms were still rubbing your back. You give an affirmative nod and his fingers skillfully take off your bra as he has already done so many times. You let your bra fall to the floor. Logan then pulls you to sit on his lap. Your hands immediately circling around his neck. He then pulls you into another hug while giving your shoulders a lot of soft kisses. It's a different kind of kisses. Nothing sensual, just comfort and love. And you hug him tighter. Letting his stubble tickle your skin.

Logan then pulls away and gives you his shirt and your shorts. You carefully take it from his hands. He stares at you full of love and adoration before he softly pushes you from his lap and walks to the bathroom to clean himself. You quickly put the clothes on and lay down on bed. Pull your blanket to cover your body and wait for your lover. Eyes blankly staring at the wedding band on your finger while your thumb carefully rotates it.

Suddenly a warmth starts engulfing you from the back. For the first time on that day you genuinely let out a soft smile. You quickly rotate your body so you can face your husband.

"What's on your mind darling?" His voice is rough but there's softness and care behind it. His hand pushes your hair away from your face. You smile again and pull him into a kiss.

"It's nothing. Just been tired from all of the work I have to do these past few days…" you answered in a low voice. Logan let out a low growl as he looked at you with sympathy.

"Let's take a few days off then. Let's go somewhere quiet. Just the two of us." Logan suggested while rubbing your sides before letting his hand stay on your hips. You stare at his face. Remembering every detail you can catch with your eyes.

"Okay. Thank you, Lo." Logan smiles as he rolls to lay on his back. Pulling you with him to sleep.

"Anything for you princess." His words and his touch is the last thing you remember before you drift off to sleep

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader

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thevoidstaredback · 7 months ago

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How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Dick had to give it to the kid, he'd somehow thought of everything. It was a little concerning, actually, but the kid had brushed off every attempt had probing for answers. Who trained him? If he was trained at all. ...had the kid gone into vigilantism alone? Oh, dear. THat's not good fro Dick's current worries.

Reading the file Danny had handed him, Dick had to wonder how long it had taken him to put together this cover story. Also, where he'd managed to get the equipment to do it. At a glance, the kid didn't seem to have much on him. Not even a phone!

He closed the folder and set it back down on the table. "Really?" he asked, "'Congratulations, it's a boy'?"

Danny's cheeks turned a bit red as his gaze shifted to the folder. "Well, yeah. You're stuck with me now until I can get you into good habits and a healthier schedule."

"That implies that you're planning on leaving."

Danny shrugged, all his confidence now fading away. Is this what he's really like? "Well, I mean, I'm sure you don't want me sticking around at all, let alone for a while."

Dick frowned and looked back at the black folder and the binder sitting on his coffee table. God, his apartment's a mess! He smiled at Danny. "My name's Richard, but everyone calls me 'Dick'. You can stay in the guest room."

Danny lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. "Really?"

"Yep. You went to all this work, it'd be a shame if it all went to waste."

The grin on Danny's face was more than worth the security risk that he now posed. "You won't regret it, Mr. Dick!"

Dick smiled back at him, "Please, drop the formalities. We're cousins, apparently."

Was he attached? No. He wouldn't allow himself to get attached. Sure, maybe he was letting this kid - he really needs to start calling him Danny - stay with him for a while, but he wasn't going to get attached. Getting attached meant losing him. Dick wasn't sure he'd be able to survive if he lost someone again.

...damn it.

***

First order of business, now that Danny was officially Dick's - why would he willingly go by that nickname? - ward/cousin, Danny was going to make sure he got some sleep. Today was Dick's day off, so Danny had sent him to his room to take a much needed nap. The man was basically dead on his feet and Danny would be damned if he let him wander around this mess of an apartment with blurry vision.

The second thing he did, once he was sure Dick was asleep, was start to clean up. The place was a stereotypical bachelor's pad, complete with questionable stains in the carpet, rips in the cushions, dishes piled up in the sink, and old take-out on every table and counter. Gross.

He made quick work of the old take-out by throwing it all away and hitting it with a very small and controlled ectoblast. He was so glad Dick had disposable gloves on hand.

The dishes were the next thing he handed. The water was cleaner than in Gotham, so he didn't worry about washing the dishes by hand when they all didn't fit in the dishwasher. He dried the ones he'd hand washed before putting them away. Dick had no organisation in his cupboards, so Danny fixed that, too.

The fridge and freezer weren't too bad. Sure, the dairy products had all expired and most of the food was freezer bitten, but none of it was moldy yet and the appliance itself was in perfect working order. He'd have to go shopping later.

Danny had never liked cleaning, but he'd had to when his parents refused to follow any OSHA laws or Lab Safety courses. So, when he found the cleaning supplies, he took a deep breath and began scrubbing the bathroom. It wasn't too bad, thank god, and was already fairly clean. It was quick and he was able to move on very quickly.

The counters, tables, walls, and tile and wooden floors were all easy to clean with a wet rag and a broom. He wasn't going to even try saving the rug because it looked well beyond the point of no return. The couch and chair cushions could be sticked up, but he didn't have a sewing needle and thread with him.

The last thing he did before taking his backpack into the room he'd been given was to write down a shopping list and leave it on the counter. It wasn't a lot, just food and some dishes and toiletries. He'd have to figure out with Dick a way to pay rent, too, but that was a later Danny problem. He'd tired himself out and was still running on pretty much empty. So, he allowed himself to fall asleep. He'd check on Dick when he woke up.

Part 4 Part 6

Tag List:

@flame-343 @ghestie93 @anarinette @aglmry @peachtreewriter @evix-syne666 @loudlypanickinginvenezolano @lumosfeather18581

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galene-gothic · 6 months ago

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𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎?

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ �� ꒱

˗ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗ PAID SERVICES (summer sale and offers)

︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 1 ꒱

This is interesting, your future spouse is going to love how stubborn and prideful you are. There will be times when you’ll be fighting with them because you’ll get angry or upset about something but your anger will suddenly die down, however, you’ll be too stubborn and prideful to make your anger seem inconsistent so you’ll continue acting like you are still upset 😭. This is going to be frustrating at times but they’re going to love it regardless. I feel like you’re going to be really raw in your expression to them. If you’re feeling clingy, you’ll cling onto them. If you feel like you’re not getting enough attention, you’re going to do whatever it takes to get it. However, you are also going to understand the limits of what’s healthy and what’s unhealthy. For example, you wanted their attention so you’re like “you don’t even love me”, after a while, you’re going to go “I’m sorry, I just wanted some attention from you.” THEY ARE GOING TO MELT ON THE INSIDE. They’re going to be like “aww, ____ is so adorable!” There are also going to be times when despite how prideful you are and how you don’t act like you’re unconfident in front of others. When with them, you��ll be like “do I look good?”, “does this look good?”, “I don’t feel good today.”, etc. There are going to be times when you’re going to be really vulnerable, you’ll just have your face buried on their chest and be sulking over how bad your day went, how something deeply affected you, how you’ve been feeling recently, so on and so forth. Due to how prideful you are, being able to see this side of you is going to be a privilege, they’ll feel honoured and will adore you so deeply. I wonder if the both of you will mutually have all love languages, like the primary ones seem to be quality time and acts of service but you still want to love heartily which includes everything - the former two, words of affirmation, physical touch, grand gestures, keeping check of little things, and going above and beyond. They will want the good, the bad and everything in between when it comes to you. They’ll also feel like you love them for who they truly are. The both of you are going to be givers and a deep intimacy will come about due to understanding each other. If you’ve ever been at a point in life where you’ve cried due to giving too much, not receiving enough, not experiencing the main course of love instead only getting the appetiser, wondering if you’ll have to change your giving personality in order to receive love, so on and so forth, it’s only further confirmation that you deserve the best love and this person will want to give you that. They’ll also be so grateful to you for all of it because they’re not used to receiving properly either. They’ve experienced similar feelings to you in the past but two givers will come together, magic is bound to happen. I’m so happy for you 💗. ‘POV’ by Ariana Grande is playing right now. That’s how they’ll feel towards you.

Actually, that is also how you’re going to feel towards them. A certain intimacy comes about when someone understands and chooses you, that’s what you’ll both have, and I think that’s beautiful. You also seem to have a lot of sexual energy. The moment you’ll see them, you’ll want to do it 😭. I’m sorry but I’m genuinely getting that happening. You’ll just randomly get urges. I’m getting you wanting to do it like ten times a day… I’m sorry. If you’re a woman or girl, you should try to take note of how you think, feel and act during ovulation right now. Your sex drive is going to be a lot stronger at that time. They’ll love how determined you are as a person. When they’ll first meet you, you’ll sort of sweep the rug from under their feet. They’re going to feel scarily attracted to you. There’s going to be a lot of sexual tension between the both of you right from the beginning. They’ll also love how you make them have revelations. They’ll feel like the both of you meeting was just divine intervention. You’re going to change them deeply and at first they’re going to be repulsed but it will all just add to the storyline xD. I mean, who doesn’t like looking back at their life and thinking that it’s movie-like? No one will compare when it comes to you. They’ll be so glad to share their life with you. Also, another thing that is coming through is that you’ll sometimes give up on what you want to benefit others, they’ll notice it and appreciate your compassion. They’ll still want you to put yourself first though. They’ll deeply care about you. There will be times when they’ll have to put up with your hostility, lack of proper communication, etc. but they’ll love how even when you’re struggling, you try your best to assure them. They’ll find your way of speech to lack assertion (outside of the stubborn, prideful lash outs xD) but they’ll love how this allows you to talk your way out of conflicts. They’ll also love how curious and mentally stimulating you are. You’re someone who values a mental connection deeply. In fact, much like your love languages, you desire it all even in the matters of heart, soul, physicality, etc. because you don’t want love to be a finite feeling in your life. They’ll love how talkative you are with them and how chatty they’ll be able to be with you. They’ll love your witty remarks, your vigilance and regard for details. Supposing, you’re in class, you’ll notice when someone has not brought their pen and well, depending on who you are, if you have an extra pen, you’ll either give it to them or just choose it ignore it 😍. You’ll be communicative and also your curiosity will give way to seeking knowledge in some form, so there will be times when you’ll just know a lot of things and you’ll talk about various different things with each other. Also, you might jump from one topic to another and back to the first topic again, they’ll find it all very adorable. They’ll love you dearly. I hope that you enjoyed the reading, much love and take care, until next time 💕.

︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 2 ꒱

They’re going to love how hardworking you are. Also, how you have the understanding that everyone has their own set of values and skills that they bring. They are going to love how you place your trust in them as well. Also, how the both of you will a team with each other. Also, how the both of you interact with others as a unit? You will be the couple who is attractive due to how amiable and friendly you are while still remaining a unit and THEY ARE GOING TO LOVE IT! You’re both going to teach each other a lot and likely, both you and your future spouse are already into self improvement and skill development, and they’ll love how you encourage each other on your paths. You’ll also be the couple who teaches others outside of the relationship. You’ll just be a very respectable and well reputed couple. They’ll love how much you value your connection with them as well as other people. You’re going to be committed to yourself, your growth, your career, whatever it may be but you’re also going to have a strong and committed relationship with them where you’ll notice the details and actually truly value them, they’ll love that. You’re likely going to be skilled at whatever you do when you’re with them. They’re going to think that you’re naturally competitive, not in a way where you’re competing but in a way where you’re so focused on getting it, doing it, having it and being it that you just win the competition? Also, the both of you are going to have a really stable relationship because you’ll be a very stable person and they’re going to love that they’ve had the privilege of finding peace in a person, peace in their house. Even though you seem to be successful, well reputed, meeting important people, skilled and still willing to learn, still actively trying to develop skills and knowledge, you’ll still be trying to maintain a community, will be kind to people and might either volunteer, donate or just find a way to give away your kindness in one way another, and they’ll love that. You’ll be expressive with your love for them through actions, they’ll also do the same and they’ll love how you seem to value each other enough to do things for each other, to tangibly let your actions speak for yourselves xD. You’ll both have lovely conversations and will even attend many gatherings. They’re going to love how the both of you are a family, a strong one at that. There’s just going to be understanding and communication with one another. I’m getting the both of you making love and just laying there, having conversations while laughing together. I wouldn’t be surprised if you guys go raw a lot because you seem to be materially successful and will be quite happy to grow a family together. Not to mind, this card has an image of someone literally planting a seed, not sexually but they’re planting a seed. They’ll feel like your relationship is one that only continues deepening and they’ll love that. They’ll always come back home, they’ll always want to. They will love how they love you so much and feel so homesick that they can barely even spend nights elsewhere, like if they do business or have to travel, they won’t be able to wait until they get home. Your family together is going to be a safe and happy one, you’re going to be a unit as well as individuals who continue learning and growing.

You’ll also maintain a strong community, be focused on your endeavours and be good people, they’re going to love that they found you who they could develop such a lifestyle with. THEY’RE GOING TO BE SO GRATEFUL FOR YOU. Aww, this is adorable. They’ll be the happiest when they’re at home with you, they won’t even bother to go out but of course they’ll enjoy going out as well, they will also love how good you look as a couple. When you’re out in gatherings together, they’ll feel really confident and happy. Not gonna lie, showing you off is going to be fun for them xD. They’re going to love everything about you. You’re literally going to be their dream person. They’ll feel like their wishes were fulfilled with you just coming into their life, you becoming their spouse is going to feel surreal, something divine, something so dreamy. They’re going to love how their partnership with you is a happy one. Also, your ability to be satisfied with everything in life and maintain gratitude. You two, truly will bring out the best in each other and they’re going to love you for that. They’ll feel so content in your connection. They will feel like you treat them as your own and still put in a lot of effort into your connection (it’ll come naturally to you too) despite how you seem to have it all in life. They’ll love how you genuinely want and love them instead of wanting them out of desperation or need. They’ll thank their lucky stars for you xD. THIS IS SO CUTE, I’M GOING TO CRY! They’ll feel like you’re quite hard on yourself and they’ll not like that but they’ll still love you for it. They’ll love how when you do something that’s not moral according to you, instead of justifying it like most people do, you self loathe for a while instead. They’ll wish that you were kinder to yourself but at the same time, they’ll be glad that they at least have the excuse to pull that “you’re insecure, don’t know what for” kind of rizz on you AHAHAHA. You’re quite indecisive, they’re going to find it so frustrating yet so endearing. Like, you could have to choose between two drinks and you’ll just be standing there awkwardly, unable to pick 😭. That audio came through “you are my sea. you are my sunshine, the stars, the moon.” You could both develop a breeding kink regardless of whether you act on it or not. MOVING ON, they’ll love the way you express yourself and how the surroundings are immediately fun when you’re there. No matter how old you’ll get, there will be something young about your love and the fun that you’ll have together. You’re going to make them so happy and they’ll love how happy they will make you as well. There’s a radiance about both of you that comes from knowing and being your most authentic selves, pursuing goals, developing a stronger character, etc. which is why both of you are called to self expression, connecting with your sense of purpose, authenticity, inner power and abundance before you even meet each other. However, meeting each other is going to make the both of you even better, happier and radiant. They’ll love how happy you make them, how childlike the dynamic gets between the both of you sometimes. They’ll just love it all. The affection that they’ll hold for you knows no bounds, it’s ever growing. I hope that you enjoyed the reading, much love and take care, until next time 💕.

︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 3 ꒱

I have no clue what to say or how to start. Is this my loner pile? I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve experienced at least one loner phase. There’s some sort of a withdrawn energy to you. Despite this, you are extremely emotional and passionate to the point your shadow traits could include controlling. You’re also quite moody or are going to be at that time. They’re going to love that they can see this side of you. The side where your inner feelings come out in front of them xD. They’re going to love how compassionate you are towards yourself and others. Despite your withdrawn energy, you can be extremely over-giving. By that time, you’ll have learned enough self compassion thankfully. You will be a very fair person. You’ll be like “well, my actions led to such consequences”, you’re going to look at others like that too “their actions led to it”. They’ll love how external factors cannot sway you because of the isolation that you’ll have experienced at some point that will have made you extremely wise and rooted in yourself. They’ll love how balanced you try to be. I’m getting you being a more possessive pile though. You’re the type to get moody when you miss your lover. Seeing an interaction with anyone else could make you a little cray cray but yeah it’s not a crazy lot, just enough for you to playfully have a banter which leads to them making it up to you. They’re going to love how you’re actually going to think about them. You’re going to see and treat them like a partner, someone who deserves well. I’m getting a weird jealousy energy from this pile. “Go to your other girl” kind of thing that leads to bonding and makeup sex? xD. Your jealous side is going to be so sexy to them because they’ll want to be yours. “Oh my god, ___ is trying to claim me as theirs. I’M SO HAPPY THEY CARE!” AHAHAHA. The jealousy and demanding energy is not something unhealthy so it’s good. It’s not like the main energy of your relationship but it’s still very much present. They’re going to love your mean comments here and there 😭. You’re going to say something mean and they’re going to adore you even more for it 💀. You’re someone very emotionally closed off whether you realise it or not. I’m not picking up on a rude personality but you might be the type to give out love, abundance, smiles, etc. as if you have it all even when you don’t. You are the type to pretend to be happy and doing well even when you’re not. You’re also quite a hard-worker who carries it all within yourself. They’re going to love how they can see this side of you where you are doing your best but help ease out your burdens. This is giving heavy black cat and golden retriever energy. Funnily enough, I’m getting that on the outside, you’re more soft like a golden retriever but are a black cat on the inside. They’re going to really admire you. They’re going to see the sacrifices that you’ve made and still continue to make, without even complaining :(. This is so sweet. You might often feel like people don’t see all the things you’ve done for others, they’re going to notice it all. In fact, it’s usually very noticeable even to others, they just choose to ignore it. Your person is going to notice the smallest to get biggest of your sacrifices. You’ve experienced a lot, haven’t you? You already have actually. By that time, you’ll have experienced much more. You’ve always overcome every situation. You’ve overcome major moments of instability, grief and personal losses, and continue doing so. They’re going to admire and love your resilience. They’re also going to love how you don’t fear instability even when you try to maintain stability because you know how to work with circumstances at hand. They’re going to love how you are a ride or die and there for your close personal connections through thick and thin.

People who know you the most are the ones who respect you the most. You’re someone who is able to find solace in your own soul :( OH MY GOD, this is a very emotional spread and I’m so proud of you. Keep going 💗. They’re going to love how you don’t let bad experiences change how good you are as a person. They’ll love how much you persevere and try to do things by yourself. Honestly, you try to do everything by yourself because you’re used to it. It could be because you were an only kid, come from a less privileged background, parents having undergone a bankruptcy/health issue, the passing away of a family member, being the eldest kid, etc. I feel like when you were younger, even when you wanted and needed help, you didn’t get it but you still made it by yourself so you’re just used to it and by then, you’ll have mastered it. They’re going to love it because it’s something they’ll admire and adore about you, how much you take onto yourself with grace without complaining or boasting. They’ll know that it’s so natural to you that you don’t even know how big of a thing it is. Many of you, in fact, most of you in this pile had to grow up too early. They’re going to adore how they can help you and how you actually try to rely on them once in a while. You are someone very emotionally soft. You’re a really deep feeler but it’s only coming through now because it takes time to get to this extremely deep part of you. Most people won’t ever get there even with time because they won’t be able to understand a person like you without feeling inferior to you :(. You could be someone who is ‘have it all’ in front of others and a tougher person (with a soft aura somehow because being soft and loving is the toughest thing in this harsh world where everyone is trying to put everyone down) but when you’re at home by yourself, you have a more emotional way of dealing with your emotions, you cry, you listen to songs, you think deeply, you grieve, you forgive, you grow, you relapse but you always come out stronger. Well, to be fair, you carry so much upon yourself, you always have, of course you need to let it out somewhere. You also love people deeply. You take relationships of all kinds seriously and I can tell this with utmost guarantee that you’re someone who is respected by those who know you the most. Anyone who loses you, never forgets you and losing you is likely the biggest loss that anyone will ever experience. Your person is going to love it all, everything about you, I’m so happy for you. You deserve this deep level of love and you’ll receive it. You’re one of those people who has been the same since childhood, of course you’ve grown a lot and learned a lot but for you, you keep on coming back to yourself as a child, that’s the essence of you. You were extremely grown yet loving and emotional as a kid yet you also had a high level of maturity, wisdom and rationality. You had your priorities in place as a kid. You’ve always been a good person is what I’m getting. It’s just etched onto your mind, body, soul and heart. At some point in life, you were close to straying from it but you never did. You just couldn’t because how do you deny what makes every inch of you? There’s never been anything wrong with you. Have you made mistakes? As a human, yes but please never change. Actively get better but… there’s never been anything wrong with you. I’m crying. Thank you for being you. This is how your future spouse is going to feel about you as well. They’ll get to see your hardest and softest parts, and they’re going to love it all. They’re going to love you for you. I hope that you enjoyed the reading, much love and take care, until next time 💕.

#pac reading #tarot pac #pac #tarotblr #future spouse pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #intuitive readings #pick a card #pick a deck #paid readings #pick a gif #pick a picture #pick a photo

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fayes-fics · 11 months ago

Text

A Welcome Intrusion

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A drunken Bridgerton in the wrong room could be the start of something...

Warnings: none really... flirtatious drunken fluff, meet-cute.

Word Count: 1.3k

Authors Note: This idea has been lingering in my "wtf is this" pile of scenes I sometimes scribble down idly. I decided to add a little polish and make it a little one-shot, as I could not see it having a natural home in my other WIPs. I also have vague plans to do the same scene setup with Anthony as a character study of how their reactions would differ. Unbetaed. I hope you enjoy <3

You are sleeping fitfully - a stifling summer night makes even a thin cotton sheet too much to bear on your overheated skin - when your bedroom is rudely invaded.

In your half-awake, bleary state, you are not even certain someone is in the room at first, your back being turned to the door. Indeed, it’s only when the mattress dips that you truly startle. You freeze, facing away, completely uncertain what to do with a stranger perched on the edge of your bed.

Behind you, you hear someone undressing haphazardly, Clothing hitting the rug in soft whumps. Bile rises in your throat when the effort-filled grunt while doing so is decidedly male.

There is a triumphant noise, and then a body flops back onto the mattress with a self-satisfied chuckle. After a few beats, all is still, and you steel yourself to speak.

“Kind sir,” you murmur, not daring to move, clinging to the far side, “please leave my room.”

There is a decidedly undignified squeal of shock, more akin to a young girl, him flipping over onto all fours next to you, the movement causing you to turn over in equal surprise.

You both stare at each other as if burned; you clutch the bedding high around your neck as he pants lightly, recovering from the apparent scare you gave him, his breath carrying the rich aroma of expensive brandy. In the shaft of moonlight leaking through the curtains, you see the curve of his cheekbone, the sharp line of his jaw. Whoever he is, he is very pretty. Very drunk, yes. But very pretty, too.

“What in god’s name are you doing in my bed?” he demands, sounding alarmed but mildly slurred with intoxication.

“You are in my bed!” you squeak back, knuckles tightening around the sheet you hold, even as your traitorous eyes roam lower, entirely without meaning to. A slice of lithe, freckled chest muscle flexing over ribs as he draws heavy breaths makes something deep inside you quake. You quickly dart your eyes back up to his face.

“I think not! This has been my bedroom since I was three years old!” he attests with the blithe certainty alcohol provides.

Oh, so he must be a Bridgerton. That is perhaps an easy guess, seeing as you are staying at Aubrey Hall ahead of tomorrow’s midsummer Hearts and Flowers Ball.

“I don’t think they would assign a family bedroom to a guest,” you answer with a flare of sass.

“Yes, I quite agree. That’s why you should not be here,” he huffs indignantly.

“I was shown here by the head housemaid. That is my trunk there, the footmen brought in,” you point out, gesturing across the room.

He seems to ignore your argument but suddenly swings around almost violently, looking at the room.

“I don’t have that on my wall,” he frowns at a sizeable floral painting over a dresser.

“Maybe because this isn’t actually your bedroom?” you volley back with uncharacteristic brashness, likely a reaction to his presence affecting you the longer he remains.

He whips back and narrows his eyes at you. “Did Anthony put you up to this? Or Colin? Change my room around and hide you in my bed to fool me? Are you some doxy?”

“How dare you, sir!!” you blanche, horrified at his coarse language and that he could think you are any sort of woman of such low morals.

“My sincerest apologies,” he immediately looks thoroughly contrite. “You do appear far too well-bred to be such. But it still does not explain your presence in my room.”

“No, it does not,” you answer through gritted teeth, annoyance flaring at his continued erroneous insistence. “And that is because this is not your room…. dunderhead!”

The ferocity with which you spit the last word has his face morphing into one of befuddled incredulity, a single eyebrow arching.

“Sorry, that was impertinent of me,” you flush, dropping your gaze ashamed.

No!” he rushes out, “I… I liked it,” the confession apparently takes him by surprise as much as it does you, judging by his confused frown at his own words.

But then he seems to shrug and nod decisively as if agreeing with himself before he looks back to you, shifting so the light colour of his eyes catches the moonbeam.

“Who are you?” he inquires, cocking his head to the side.

“Miss y/l/n,” you respond.

“I’m Benedict…”

“...BrIdgerton,” you finish for him. “I assume, based on the fact you have a childhood bedroom here.”

He laughs; a rich, resonant sound that makes your insides jolt.

“Indeed,” he smiles, the ivory of his teeth catching the light. Again, you are drawn to how pretty he seems to be. “I am… quite intoxicated, Miss y/l/n”, he confesses, clutching a hand to his chest as if holding a doffed cap, “‘tis entirely possible I am indeed not in the correct bedroom.”

“I would venture that to be the correct assessment,” you offer with a meek smile.

“I sincerely apologise, yet again,” his face contrite as he shuffles into a kneeling position, his palms resting upturned on his thighs as if seeking forgiveness.

The problem is all your eyes can do is slide down his bare torso, lingering in places they shouldn’t—like the swell of his pectorals, the dip of his waist, and the pull of material at the junction of his thighs just a few inches above where his palms rest….

“I suppose it is only fair I let you look, seeing as I so rudely interrupted your sleep,” he comments dryly.

Your eyes jerk back to his face, met with a pointedly raised eyebrow and a knowing crooked smirk. You feel your cheeks aflame and bow your head, biting your lip, knowing you have been thoroughly caught in your ogling.

“I… I apologise, sir,” you mumble quietly, “I… I have not seen a man without a shirt before…” you admit in a whisper.

“And do you like what you see?” he teases, tone etched with beguiling menace, his mouth twisted into an intrigued pout as you dare to raise your gaze again.

“I… I…,” you falter, knowing that admitting such would be scandalous.

“Your secret is safe with me, Miss y/l/n,” he winks, “and I hope I am forgiven.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” you bustle out, tugging the bedding high under your chin again, wanting desperately to conceal the flush you know is creeping over your skin with every second spent in his half-naked presence.

“I suppose I should take my leave,” he sighs, his cadence reluctant, perhaps hoping you will dispute his assessment.

“That would be… the most prudent course of action,” you nod even though your fingertips itch to grab his hand and ask him to stay for reasons you don’t entirely understand.

He slides off the bed and scoops up his discarded shirt, a moderately unsteady gait as he tugs it back onto his body.

“Goodnight, Miss y/l/n,” he bows with a touch of comedic chivalry before he takes his leave. You cannot help but stare at his shapely rear as he walks towards the door.

“Goodnight, Mr Bridgerton,” you call softly, and before you can stop yourself, more words are spilling from your lips, something about this man making you daring. “I do so hope you will offer me a dance at the ball tomorrow to make amends for this intrusion.”

Even you are astounded by your words. Benedict pauses, his hand frozen on the door handle as he turns back around slowly, his mien surprised.

“It would be my pleasure,” he rumbles after a pause, a tingle running through your being.

“Until tomorrow, Mr Bridgerton,” you offer, heart pounding.

“Until tomorrow indeed, Miss y/l/n,” the velvet of his voice tickling your skin long after the door snicks closed behind him.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaa @urfavnoirette

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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verbenaa · 11 months ago

Text

air so deep and sweet

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: “You’re just utterly shameless, aren’t you?’ He tsks, “Seducing me away from my work like this.”

Astarion’s eyes rove your form laying beneath him in reverence, the silken strands of your hair spread like a halo around your face and your dress a mess around your waist.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/Reader 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, fluff, slice of life! 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 7.1k 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: body worship, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, hand jobs, vampire bites, mentions/discussions of anal, vaginal sex, vampire sex, soft dom astarion

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

𝑎/𝑛: This is my first ever fanfiction despite a literal 20 years of reading them LOL i truly have lost the plot. Find me on ao3 too, my username is leadii 💕

ao3 here

masterlist

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Dim candlelight plays along the walls of Astarion’s studio, illuminating the discarded bolts of fabric leaning against the wall with haphazard grace, the threads of linens, silks, and cottons a riot of color against the muted walls. Spools of silken thread and tangles of ribbon lay sprawling across the work table, interspersed with pincushions and stray needles waiting to be threaded.

The studio itself is small, humble in its nature. Set aside on a small street within the city walls it wasn’t a far walk from your shared home, making it an easy decision to join him on the nights he decided to work.

Lush velvet draperies hang heavily across several leaded windows, while multicolored rugs layered themselves over the floor. Fat pillars of candle wax sit haphazardly upon several surfaces, filling the room with moving pockets of light, their dance helped along by the light summer breeze blowing through the open windows. It was undeniably one of your favorite places to be.

Despite Astarion’s initial claims to the contrary (if you could even call his half-hearted condescension to the concept such a thing), he was decidedly well suited for a life of domesticity. Much like a spoiled cat, he very much enjoyed his luxuries. Vials of scented oils, a soft bed covered with blankets and quilts, piles of books in the corners of rooms waiting to be read at his decision. You were very quick to learn that Astarion was nothing if not a creature of comfort. And he made it so very easy to spoil him, accepting your love and affection with open arms.

You nestle deeper into the nest of pillows that made up the corner you had decided to call your own, novel discarded beside you and your goblet of wine long emptied of its contents resting against the floorboards. With a small huff your attention turns from your surroundings to said owner of the studio, watching him weave the needle in and out of the fabric in his hands, focus intent on his art.

He had such beautiful hands, you couldn’t help but think. Hands as well-versed in sowing chaos as easily as they could thread a needle to create the tiniest of embellishments upon a single piece of silk. Hands as intimately versed in the art of death as they were in the art of drawing pleasure. Sometimes, you think, he is secretly desperate to prove that his hands no longer have to steal, cheat, or seduce for others and instead were capable to creating something soft and vulnerable for himself instead.

With a small stretch you sit yourself upright, adjusting the lovingly embroidered straps of the light linen dress you wore to compensate for the overbearing warmth of summer. You were always content to accept any creation Astarion made for you and your dress was no exception, tailored to perfection to sit on your curves perfectly with small decorations of lace and embroidery as he saw fit.

As though drawn by your thoughts, his carmine gaze glances up to meet your own. Astarion’s eyes linger upon your form as you slowly stand and stretch your arms high above your head, back arching slightly with the motion before you step to the nearest open window. A light breeze ruffles your hair as you rest your elbows on the sill, careful of the several plants currently residing there as your eyes move to watch the people below weave through the streets in the darkness.

“Dearest, do you mind lending me those ever-so-lovely eyes of yours for a moment?” His voice is a casual drawl. “I wish to seek your opinion on this particular color scheme.”

You turn to face him from your spot at the window as he gestures to the work in his hand with a small movement of his wrist, and quickly step across the floor to stop at his side. You glance down to see the wooden embroidery hoop he holds with measured regard in one hand, the other carefully grasping a small, sharp needle. You lean in slightly to see better, your breasts adding the barest of pressure against his arm.

You focus your vision upon the delicate pattern of his needlework, the threads weaving together to create an intricate pattern of scrolling vines and abundant spring blossoms in a warm milky white adorning the collar of a cream colored linen shirt, the colors almost ethereal together in their similarity.

“I hate to break this to you, but…I do believe it is simply cream upon cream,” you say with a small smile gracing your lips. “What ever is there for me to even give my opinion on?”

“It’s called monochrome, my dear.” Astarion gives you a look of affectionate exasperation before continuing, “Despite what everyone seems to think, I am capable of subtlety when the occasion permits.” You briefly turn to look at him, an elegant eyebrow arching in amusement.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs slightly before murmuring, “Certainly those pretty eyes of yours can see the differences despite the similarity of color?”

Sure enough, upon further inspection you could pick out the slightest hint of metallic gold threaded throughout the creamy colored delicate flowers and surrounding vines, the only detail differentiating the colors from one another. The subtle shine of the golden threads were mesmerizing to follow with your eyes, the candlelight bouncing off of them creating fiery highlights on the raised embroidery. Like everything Astarion touched, it was undeniably beautiful.

“I suppose it looks decent.” You tease, pressing your chest further into his arm while your attention shifts to the elegant planes of his face. He was simply so easy to admire, the way his hair always seemed to fall so perfectly into place, his mouth held soft in concentration looked so inviting.

A noise of protest leaves his lips at the mere thought his creation was only ‘decent’, and you can’t help but laugh at the reaction while leaning in to press a soft kiss to his pale cheek.

“It must be so hard to have such artistic merit, Astarion. I’m afraid such a talentless individual as myself can’t fully appreciate such craft and workmanship.” You playfully lean your body back and throw a hand up your forehead in mock distress, earning a short laugh from him.

“Despite such questionable opinions, you are far my talentless, my dear.” Astarion sets aside the hoop and needle to the far edge of the worktable and turns in his chair, settling his full attention on you.

“In fact, I would be more than willing to remind you of the several of the talents you possess.”

Slowly, he draws his eyes from your features to glance down at the twin pinprick scars decorating your neck before slowly continuing lower to finally rest on a spot above your breasts. He brings his fingertips to brush lightly against the skin, pressing against the delicate lace trim of the neckline, sweeping slowly and softly back and forth against the swells. He watches the sudden intake of your breath with interest before his eyes glide up to meet your own again.

A slow, feline smile graces his lips. “Such a distraction, dearest. Especially when you press these lovely breasts of yours into me.”

You match his smile with a sly one of your own.

“Can you blame me?” You give a half-hearted shrug, hardly caring that you had been caught in your so-called crime. “It’s quite hard to not want to be close to such a beautiful individual like yourself.”

“Ah yes, there it is. Talent number one: flattery.”

He moves the hand tracing patterns against your skin upward, glancing touches against your neck, before curling his fingers underneath your chin to bring your face closer to his own.

You knew he could easily see the effects of his relatively innocent ministrations, could view the inevitable pink beginning to decorate your cheeks.

Could smell it in the blood beginning to race through your veins.

Astarion had always known exactly what to say made you breathless and had never held back on using that knowledge to his advantage to make you weak to his whims.

“Now be a good girl and take a seat.” His voice is low, hungry; he leans forward and both his hands find your waist and pull.

You feel your body relax easily into his touch, letting him smooth your skirts out of the way as he brings you towards his waiting lap. Your hips instantly connect together, fabric the only barrier between you. You feel a telltale twitch beneath you, signaling his pleasure at the slight friction created by the connection and your hips grind against his own instinctually, the friction and pressure adding to the growing warmth deep in your belly.

Astarion leans forward, connecting his mouth with your own in a scalding kiss, moaning into your mouth as his hips roll against your own, his growing erection pressing closer to your covered center.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull yourself even closer to him as your hands card through the silver curls sitting at the back of his neck. Opening your mouth, you lick against his lips hoping he will open them for you. Astarion obliges, meeting your tongue halfway.

Your tongue brushes against a sensitive fang, drawing another moan out of him and he slowly pulls away from the kiss, lightly nipping at your bottom lip as he leaves before moving to press small, sweet kisses across your jaw.

“Would you indulge me a snack, dearest?” He presses a quick kiss followed by a small lick to the skin behind your ear, sending a shiver of pleasure down your skin.

“I suppose I could be convinced…” Breathy sighs fall from your lips as he peppers kisses down the elegant column of your neck. “Quite easily perhaps, too.”

“Will you give me a small taste, my dear?” he mouths the words against your skin, lips hot.

Your eyes fall closed at his kisses. “You know you don’t even have to ask to have my blood. I give it to you, freely, and I always will.” With a tilt of your head you grant him more access to continue his search.

“I don’t deserve you.” “Absolutely false. You deserve everything.” The words roll off your tongue with quick ease, certain you’ve never spoken truer words.

As Astarion moves the straps of your dress aside to hang off your shoulders and free the expanse of your neck and collar he finds the spot he had been looking for, laving the area with his tongue briefly before he bites down.

A split second of burning heat as his fangs dig into the flesh of your neck with as much delicacy as he can manage before he finally begins to suck, the pull of the blood leaving your body as he drinks brings a decidedly indecent moan to your lips, the heat of your core growing wetter with every draw of his mouth.

As Astarion drinks in your lifeblood in slow gulps, you feel his hands moving to the neckline of your dress and he grabs at it, pulling the fabric down across your chest, exposing more and more of you with every pull of the fabric. You had forgone a corset today in an attempt at comfort in an unending battle against humidity, trusting the bodice of your dress to instead keep your (somewhat questionable) modesty in tact.

The rush of cold air combined with the sudden brush of his chilled hands against your breasts as he lets the dress fall to hang freely around your waist draws a surprised gasp from your lips. You move your arms out of the straps before burying them again in his silver locks.

He quickly brings a free hand up to grasp a breast, brushing his thumb over a newly hardened nipple. Extricating his fangs from your neck, his tongue moves to lick up the blood tracing down from the wound, not letting a single drop go to waste.

“Such a delightful little treat,” he murmurs against your skin, lips brushing with every movement as your hips grind downward against his growing erection in slow rolls.

His lips move further down your chest, no longer following the trail of fresh blood but that of the blood in your veins leading to your heart.

Astarion presses a chaste kiss over the place where your heart beats, your back arching with the movement of his lips as he moves lower to capture a hardened peak. A soft cry at the touch of his mouth falls from your lips, the motion of his tongue drawing circles around the bud sending a flash of heat straight to your core.

He laves at the bud, alternating licks and soft bites in a bid to stoke the fire inside you even higher, his free hand coming up to massage its twin with delicate motions.

Astarion cants his hips up into yours as he sucks hard at your breast, his prominent erection pressing into your growing wetness before his mouth moves to your other breast, continuing his ministrations.

“Astarion, please, I need more.” You whine, attempting to press harder against his erection in hopes the touch will grant a reprieve from the building heat between your thighs.

“As you wish, my love.” He grants your request with a whisper, his hands falling on your thighs to support you as he moves to stand, bringing you with him. Chair pushing back with the movement, he places you on the desk in front of him as his hips spread your thighs.

Desperate to keep the connection between the two of your bodies, Astarion stands between your legs, pressing close. His hands skate up your body to land on your cheeks, tilting your face to look up at his own as a thumb brushes absentmindedly against your bottom lip. He leans down to press his lips to your forehead, your eyes, cheeks, nose, and finally your lips.

“Lay back, love,” His words are a whisper as one hand makes it way from your cheek to rest on the back of your head. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

His eyes never leave your own as your body relaxes, trusting him, and he leans you back onto the tabletop with care until your body meets the wood.

Barely breathing, you watch as his hands made their way teasingly downwards, skating over your bared breasts to find the skirt of your dress, moving to push the thin fabric tantalizingly up your thighs to settle around your waist and out of the way. Astarion’s eyes settle upon a tiny, lacy pair of panties, the fabric the only thing keeping you from being completely bared to him.

“You’re just utterly shameless, aren’t you?’ He tsks, “Seducing me away from my work like this.” Astarion’s eyes rove your form laying beneath him in reverence, the silken strands of your hair spread like a halo around your face and your dress a mess around your waist.

He was so beautiful it made your heart feel like it was going to beat out of your chest.

With bated breath, you raise a hand to draw your fingers softly over his cheek, capturing his attention.

“Promise me that you will tell me if this gets to be too much for you,” Your eyes meet his as you watch his expression fill with sudden affection at your request.

“What a sweet thing you are,” Astarion brings a hand to cover the one you had placed over his cheek. “Thank you for always taking care of me so.” With a small movement, he turns his head to bring his lips to press against your palm.

“I promise you that anything and everything I do with you is my choice.” Astarion moves the hand that covers yours to flit down your body, teasing touches over your peaked nipples, down your belly, before brushing against the line of your underwear. A sudden intake of breath escapes your lungs as he watches your stomach jump with the touch.

A smirk graces his face as he moves those same fingers lower, brushing lightly against the gusset of your underwear before pressing harder against the growing damp of the lace. His touch creates a sweet friction, your wetness mixed with the texture of the lace and the pressure of his fingers drawing a soft moan from you.

You whine as his fingers pull your underwear to the side, Astarion moving to slide his fingertips up and down your exposed slit, spreading your wetness. He makes teasing passes around the small pearl that rests above; close but never quite touching where you need him, your arousal aiding the smooth glide of his motions.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already this wet for me, darling?”

“You know I always aim to please.” The words are hard won but you manage to give him a haughty smile nonetheless, trying to maintain the last shred of willpower you have left to pretend to be unaffected.

He moves to pump a finger shallowly inside you, not nearly deep enough to provide any relief. You gasp at feeling, attempting to roll your hips in hopes to bring his finger deeper. But just as quickly as he enters he leaves, eliciting a noise of frustration from you.

“Patience, patience.” He tuts, hands moving to your hips to tug at the lace resting over them. He yanks at the fabric, and you raise you bottom to aid him in finally removing them. Astarion pockets the pair with a smug look as his hands move to spread your thighs further apart.

With every push of your thighs Astarion bares you to him, your arousal glistening against your center in the low light.

“You know, dearest, I think I would maybe like to have a taste of something else as well.” You feel your cunt clench at the prospect, adding to the building heat deep inside you.

“Consider me at your mercy, then.” A smirk from him at your blessing as he slowly lowers himself to his knees before your spread legs.

Astarion is supplicant before you as he rests his head on your upper thigh, unfairly close to where you want him most. Your hips jump in anticipation as he begins pressing tantalizingly soft kisses into the crease where your hip meets your thigh.

You feel his fingers touch you finally, delicately spreading your folds as he watches your most intimate place open for him. His thumb comes to rest against your clit, rubbing lightly at the small bud and you release a contented hum at the warmth of the pleasure inside your body growing with the movement of his fingers.

Your eyes fall shut at the sheer relief of his attention, his expertise in knowing exactly how and where to touch to drive you wild drawing a moan from you. Your hand falls from its place in his hair to land beside your head, jostling errant sewing supplies from their resting place next to you.

“Careful, darling. Watch those lovely hands of yours to not catch on a needle. I would so hate for you to bleed so needlessly.” A roguish smile alights his lips as he lowers his mouth to lick a slow stripe up your center, intent to collect as much of your wetness on his tongue as he can.

Your hand immediately finds its way back to his hair, gripping his silver curls mindlessly as he begins to work his tongue up and down your center, tracing patterns against your sex as he goes.

His tongue moves to finally circle your clit with small movements, intent to drive your pleasure higher and higher with every pass. His mouth moves lower, licking across your folds as he finds your entrance, tracing around it with agonizingly slow motions.

Astarion is quick to move a hand to rest over your belly as your hips jut up, applying soft pressure as he grows bold in his motions and his tongue moves to push inside of you. Your grip on his curls grows harder with every thrust of his tongue inside your body, head thrown back and moans growing louder as he brings you closer and closer to completion.

The hand resting on your stomach moves to press lightly at your clit, once again resuming the small circles round and around as his tongue continues its exploration deep in your core, eating you out with fervor.

Astarion continues to lave inside you, his soft tongue whorling against your walls as his fingers expertly work your clit in tandem with your cries as your hips ride his face, thighs shaking as your orgasm barrels towards you.

And it’s just like that when you cry out and finally come, his tongue moving deep inside as his finger strums your clit with practiced motions and the feeling is white-hot as you plunge into your ecstasy. He licks up your come greedily, tongue never stopping its endeavor as you ride the wave of your orgasm, breathy cries leaving your lips and hips rolling until your body finally relaxes.

Shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm, your hand falls from Astarion’s hair to rest over your eyes as your breathing begins to even out and you finally come down from the high, Astarion cleaning up your cum until you can take it no longer, hips jerking in overstimulation away from his mouth.

Astarion places a light kiss over your clit before raising up from his knees back to his full height, your slick glistening on his chin and lips in the light of the candles as his still clothed cock brushes against your empty center.

Astarion leans forward, arms caging your head as he leans down to nuzzle your cheek whispering ardent words, “Out of all the beautiful things in this room, you are by far the most gorgeous.”

His admission momentarily stuns you. Astarion had never been shy in his admirations of your beauty and while you had grown more used to them during your time together he still managed to catch you off guard with such compliments from time to time.

“Can I please touch you? Taste you?” You pant, desperation coloring your words in the wake of his earlier admission as you begin to push yourself up onto your elbows. Astarion’s hand comes down and gently presses on your chest instead, and you lower yourself back down at the gentle command in the gleaming red of his eyes.

“You can put that clever mouth of yours to use later, my dear. I have other plans for you, I think.” His eye rove your features before pressing his mouth upon yours in a fevered kiss, his tongue licking against your lips asking for entry. You can taste the essence of yourself on his lips and groan at the taste, opening yours to tangle his tongue with your own.

Astarion deepens the kiss as his hands find your own and grasping them gently, he brings them down his body to rest upon his still-clothed cock.

“You said you wanted to touch. Indulge me, lover.” His lips never leave your own as he speaks the words, tongue sneaking out to lick at your bottom lip.

Your hands spring to action immediately to palm his cock through his leather pants before you find the laces holding him and undo them with deft fingers familiar with the task.

Astarion’s thick cock springs free of the confines of the pants and your fingers find the beads of precum decorating the tip and spread the wetness down his length. your fingers glide from top to bottom in smooth motions over the veined velvet of him, his essence aiding your ministrations as his mouth falls open from the sheer indulgence of your touch. His head falls heavily onto your shoulder and his lips move over the spot he fed from earlier, kissing and licking the area as your hands work him closer to closer to the edge.

Lifting a hand from him you bring your fingers to your own wetness, drawing your fingertips through your slick before pumping two of them inside yourself in an imitation of his own motions earlier as you moan at the feeling.

Astarion glances down to see your fingers buried in your own cunt, the sight making him go impossibly harder as he watches you briefly pleasure the both of you. With a whine, your fingers leave your body to return to Astarion, a mixture of your arousal and come coating your fingers as your spread it onto his waiting cock, increasing your rhythm to rub him faster.

“Gods Above, you really are something else.” His pupils are blown out in lust as he groans at both the sight and feel of your hands working his shaft, one hand massaging the crown of his cock while the other works him closer to the base in quick motions.

A wicked thought strikes your mind, and you almost feel badly for even entertaining the idea. Almost.

You can feel his breath fanning your neck with every pass of your hands, his moans growing more unrestrained as your ministrations draw him to edge of completion. Without warning you withdraw your hands from his weeping cock, cruelly denying him the climax he was so close to.

Astarion’s head flies up from where it rests on your shoulder as a noise of disbelief leaves his lips and he shoots you a look of pure shock. The knowledge you caught him so unaware has you riding another kind of high, one you rarely had the privilege of reveling in.

“You little minx! Who knew you were capable of such cruelty. You’re going to pay for that, you know.”

Mischief settles on your features. “Maybe that was the goal.”

“Ask and you shall receive, little love. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” His lips curve with a devilish grin, eyes glinting in the candlelight as his hands move to grip your waist, fingertips pressing hard into the soft skin.

“How should I make you pay for it, then?” He muses. “Should I shove my cock into that tight, sweet cunt of yours and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to stand? Or maybe I should make good use of that wicked little mouth of yours and fill it instead?”

His darkening eyes bore into your own, your cheeks heating at his suggestions as you shift under his contemplation.

“You do look quite beautiful like that, you know. Mouth stretched around me as I fuck your throat. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You give an enthusiastic nod at the prospect, excited for whatever punishment he deems appropriate to hand out.

Without warning, you feel the hands upon your waist move to lift you up and flip you over, your stomach making contact with the table as your bare breasts press tight against the wood grain. His hand comes to rest in the center of your back, pushing you further into the surface. You move your head to rest your cheek upon the table, the coolness of the wood a welcome sensation to the quickly rebuilding heat inside you as your eyes glance up to meet his own in curiosity.

“Too bad. I have another idea instead.” His voice is deep with promise.

Such trouble you had gotten yourself into, it seems.

Cool hands move from your back to the forgotten skirt of your dress to flip it upward to rest around your waist once more, exposing your ass and glistening center to the warm air.

Astarion brings his hand down hard against one of your cheeks, the sharpness of the spank making you cry out as surprise and pleasure mingle into one. He rubs the growing red mark left on your skin before bending down to press a his lips to it, soothing the area with barely-there kisses.

He brings both hands to your ass now, rubbing soothing circles over the area before moving to pull your rear cheeks apart, allowing Astarion to see absolutely everything.

A wave of embarrassment hits you to be put on such display for his vision despite his knowledge of your body, and you fidget slightly under his intent gaze of your most intimate areas.

“Astarion…” you let out a moan and he is quick to shush you as he moves a hand off your asscheek to brush his thumb in light circles over your asshole.

“Maybe I should take you here instead, I know how much you love when I play with your pretty ass.” His voice is deep, eyes impossibly dark.

“Oh fuck,” His words draw a ragged moan from your lips at the mere thought, setting your neglected pussy on fire with need.

“Prove to me you can be a good girl.” His thumb applies soft pressure before it leaves you to be replaced by his lips. He presses a soft kiss to the tight hole before kissing downwards and licking deep into your cunt without warning, lapping at your waiting wetness.

“Gods, Astarion…” your hips press backwards towards his waiting mouth. “Whatever you want, wherever you want, my love. I’ll do anything. I just want you inside of me.” Your voice is hoarse with need, no longer caring to win this little game you had started.

You feel Astarion’s mouth leave your pussy and whine at the loss, but he is quick replace your empty cunt with two of his elegant fingers instead, sliding them in and out at slow, measured pace.

“Do you think I should let you come one more time before I fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk properly?” You are helpless to do anything other than nod your head in insistence, hoping he won’t rob you of your orgasm the way you had done to him. “I don’t know if you deserve it yet.”

Astarion slowly pulls his fingers out of your body only to add a third finger on the plunge back in, drawing a cry from your lips at the sudden fullness.

His fingers push deep and curl inside of you pressing against that special spot over and over again, driving you to new heights as the lightest veil of tears begins to dust your lashes at the sheer bliss of the feeling.

Noticing the tears, you feel Astarion immediately stop his ministrations and lean over your back to look into your eyes with concern, a noise of protest at the lack of motion falls from your mouth as his fingers slowly leave your body to rest on your hip, brushing calming circles on your skin.

“Is this too much, love?” Any trace of his teasing dominance is gone from his voice as he speaks the words to you clearly, looking intently for any indication you needed him to step back from the scene the two of you had created. “We can stop, darling, if you need to. I don’t want you to push yourself too far to please me.”

You smile at genuine concern evident on his face, blinking away the sheen of tears.

Pushing your hips back into him with as much motion as you can manage in your prone position against the table, you lean your body up in hopes to press a kiss to his lips. Astarion leans in, mouth quick to meet you halfway in a kiss as his spare hand moves to cup your cheek.

“The only thing you are pushing is my patience, love. Please don’t stop.” You beg, hoping he will acquiesce to your desire to continue as you lower your body back down onto the table. “The only thing I want in this moment is to come so hard I can’t think straight and then to have that beautiful cock of yours inside of me in whatever way you wish to give it to me.”

“Insatiable. Who taught you such language?” His body follows yours down, back pressing against your own as his lips brush against yours as he speaks the words, the concern leaving his eyes replaced with mounting desire.

“Believe me, there is nothing I want more than to be buried deep inside you,” The hand on your hip makes its way back towards your center. “Make me the same promise I made you earlier.”

The words come to your mouth effortlessly.

“I promise you that anything and everything I do with you is my choice.” You recite the words softly, with ease.

Quieter now, you whisper. “I trust you, Astarion.”

You know how much your words and trust mean to him, can see it in his unguarded expression. Astarion didn’t put much trust in the Gods, but he would never stop thanking whichever one it was that brought your paths together. His fingers gently graze your pussy, ringing around your entrance with soft, teasing touches.

“I love you.” Astarion says before pressing his lips firmly to your own, those same three fingers finally slipping back inside.

Astarion renews the pace of his fingers right away, pressing and curling with precise motions meant to bring you to the brink.

You give into the sensation of every movement of his fingers, mouth open and eyes falling shut at the feeling and it’s not long before he has you once again close to your orgasm.

“Please, don’t stop,” you whimper as your thighs begin to shake.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Astarion brings his other hand down your body to brush lightly against your clit. He sounds as lost in desire as you feel. “Want to feel you come on my hand. Can you do that for me, sweet thing?”

His words have you clenching hard on his fingers, the pressure of them against your insides combined with the fingers of his other hand brushing light, concentric circles over your clit have you coming within moments of his request.

“Such a good girl to give me what I want so easily.” You barely hear the words that fall from his lips through the haze of your ongoing orgasm, the feeling of his breath on the skin of your ear serving to only enhancing the moment.

Your body spasms around his fingers and cries of ecstasy fall from your lips as he continues, working you through your orgasm while his lips press soothing kisses anywhere his lips can reach—your face, your neck, the tip of your ear.

“That’s it. You always look so beautiful when you come for me.”

Slowly, finally you feel your body begin to relax through the haze of your orgasm. Your mind comes back to you and you release a small laugh as your breath starts to even out, feeling him leave your body. Without breaking eye contact, he brings the fingers that had filled you so deeply to his mouth and licks them clean. The sight of it sends a wave of heat right back to your cunt, a shudder of anticipation running through you.

“I think you already succeeded in your wish to make me unable to stand.” You pant.

“And to think I haven’t even fucked you yet.” His cock is hard as his eyes scan your form from the flesh of your core to the flush of your cheeks, your eyes glassy with a haze of lust.

“I think I want to fuck you just like this.” He whispers into your ear as his hands run soothingly over your back. “I like you this, on display as you wait for me.” You desperately attempt to push your hips back to brush against his uncovered cock, looking for any bit of friction.

You watch him from your place on the table, the lithe way his body moves as he takes off his luxurious silk shirt to expose his chest.

His beauty was almost otherworldly as the dancing candlelight illuminates the carved marble of his skin, light and shadow creating a moving chiaroscuro upon the planes of his body.

He looked like a god.

“You are so beautiful.” Your words are a mere whisper as he moves his thick cock to finally brush against your center, slicking himself in your spend as the tip catches against your clit, drawing twin moans from you both.

Grabbing your hips, Astarion positions himself at your entrance and begins to slowly push inside, so familiar with your body he barely needs to guide his cock.

His head drops to press a kiss to your shoulder before righting himself again, hissing in pleasure at the feeling of your walls closing around him as he slides in, your wetness aiding him as he bottoms out and his hips press hard against your own.

Low moans escape you at the sheer feeling of his cock stretching and sliding home and your hands move grasp for purchase on the desk as he slowly begins to rock back and forth.

“If only you could see yourself now,” His voice is deep as he watches himself pull his cock out of your body almost completely, only the head left resting shallowly inside you before pushing forward with a hard thrust, hitting a place so deep you let out a ragged cry at the feeling.

“Gods, Astarion, just like that.” He fucks you hard, the force of his thrusts pushing you back and forth with small motions, breasts pressing hard against the wood of the table as one of your hands finds his own still holding your hips. You grab at his wrist in hopes he will take it, needing to touch more of him. Sensing your need Astarion takes your hand, bringing it to his lips to press a soft kiss on the back of it before resting your joined hands on your lower back.

“No one takes my cock like you,” He pants through his thrusting. “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

Supplications fall from his lips as he moves in and out of your body, showering you with worship as if you were his own private deity. His words further kindle the rising flame inside your belly, every touch of his cock against your walls serving to push you closer and closer to your third orgasm.

“Only you,” you pant, hips canting back into his own to match the rhythm of his thrusts. “No one else.”

You feel so incredibly full with your body positioned like this, every movement of his cock has him pressing hard against your sweet spot, the feeling like heaven as cries fall from your lips.

“I love how wet you get for me, darling,” Astarion can feel you tighten around him as you grow nearer to your orgasm, your body trembling and cunt pulsing with pleasure as your hips drive back into his own. The feeling of you so close to your orgasm has hips losing their rhythm, his eagerness at the two of you reaching your end together driving him to move harder with every press inside you.

You love seeing him, feeling him like this. His hips finally moving with wild abandon, chasing pure instinct as he moves fast and deep inside your body. A hand comes up to settle in your unbound hair, softly gripping the silk-like strands in his fingers and in his passion he pulls softly, the motion lifting your head. His lips lower to your ear as his back presses fully against your own, the feeling of his cock moving even deeper inside you unmatched. Between his chest against your back and his cock moving so deep he was practically rutting inside, you were almost certain your cunt had never felt so full. Breathless whimpers escape your mouth at the feeling, eyes closing in complete ecstasy as the sound of his own moans against your ear leaves your cunt clenching hard as he hits your g-spot over and over again with each deep thrust.

“Beg for it. Beg for me to let you cum.”

And beg you do.

“Please, Astarion!” A chorus of pleas rise from your throat voicing your desperation as his tongue licks the shell of your ear, the hand in your hair tightening slightly with every word and moan that falls from your lips.

You can barely think as you feel your orgasm careen towards you, unintelligible in your words as you lose yourself in the feeling of your bodies. Astarion’s cock hits that deep inside spot at your front wall once more, and you finally let go, orgasm taking over your body, stars behind your eyes in all-consuming pleasure. You recognize Astarion nearing his own end, his hips rutting into yours as you ride out your orgasm on his cock, cunt squeezing him in a vice. He comes with a drawn-out moan as he paints your insides with his cum, hips shuttering until his thrusts slow down.

Astarion stays inside you, cock softening as he rubs his hands up and down your sides as you both come down from your high, his cold cheek pressed against your shoulder. With deep breaths you take air so heavy and sweet with your shared lust into your lungs, the weight of Astarion on your back an anchor to the world.

With one final pump Astarion pulls himself from your body, watching as your empty cunt weeps with a mixture of his and your own cum. Before he can stop himself, he reaches two fingers up to catch the cum on his fingertips, gently pushing it back inside you before it can fall out onto the table resting below your hips.

“Wouldn’t want you to waste a single drop, my love.”

You whine and buck your hips, overstimulated after coming so many times in a row. With one last press of his fingers, he leaves your cunt, leaning forward to place a kiss on the small of your back.

Astarion grabs a discarded piece of silk off the table beside your head and he gently wipes at the mess that threatens to leave your body before cleaning his own spent cock. As your breathing returns to its normal pace, you push yourself up slightly.

“Silk. Really, Astarion?”

“Only the best for you, my love.” Astarion is quick to help you off the table, steadying you as you sway slightly after being in the same position for so long. He presses a kiss to your lips as he helps pull your dress back up over your breasts and into place.

“I would ask if I was too rough, but I know you better than that.” His remark makes you laugh as you lean into him, throwing your arms around his neck with a wide smile.

“You know, I think I’m missing a tiny piece of my clothing,” Your eyebrows raise as you gesture to his pocket where a tiny piece of darkened lace sticks out from. "You wouldn’t happen to know where it is, would you?”

“Why bother?” Astarion gives a casual shrug as he waves off your query. “I’m just going to take them off of you again when we get home.”

He stuffs the underwear in question deeper into his pocket, patting it securely before flashing you a crafty smile.

“After all, I haven’t even had my dinner yet.” He leans in, setting your heart aflame with a passionate kiss before grabbing your hand to lead you out the door and into the waiting night.

#i have lost my mind and i have no regrets #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x female tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #my writing

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itsabouttimex2 · 16 days ago

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What are the cookie run “fams” and what do the Y/Ns look like?

Yandere CRK Families

Alright this was a fun question, so I’ll go over three of them!

Chocofam

In terms of personality, I think that this particular Y/N is going to be very timid and withdrawn after an entire life spent within their father’s desolate and quiet castle.

As someone who believes in the necessity of strength and discipline, Dark Cacao Cookie doesn’t hold back from piling on consequences when he thinks you’re making a mistake or putting yourself in danger. His guidance is often harsh, but he genuinely thinks it’s what you need to become resilient enough to survive.

The king is strict- but he’s convinced that it’s only because he wants to see you become the best version of yourself. He frequently gives you strenuous “lessons” in survival skills or fighting techniques, preparing you for any misfortune or struggle that may come your way, but deep down, Dark Cacao knows he’s not willing to cut your lead enough slack to allow to those scenarios to manifest.

…and maybe it allows him to tuck your tired room in nice and tight when all is said and done, and maybe leave you with a treat or two.

But only if you’re good.

Caramel Arrow Cookie guards you as she guards the king, willing to trade her life for yours- I think she manifests her “yandere” behavior in sheer devotion and loyalty to His Highness, Dark Cacao Cookie, which spills over onto you in turn. If you are safe and happy, then Caramel Arrow knows that her king can focus on his duties as sovereign.

Because she’s unwilling to go against an order levied by the king, Caramel Arrow is strikingly strict with her care- not brutally so, but she’s definitely not the sort to waver once an order has been given. To help pass the time, she’ll set up targets and guide you through nocking and loosing arrows, ensuring that you’ll be just as grand an archer as her, all in time with your father’s ceaseless swordsmanship lessons. She’s warm-hearted in spite of her unwavering devotion to your safeguarding, which means it’s not impossible to get a pep talk or even a piggyback ride back to your room when you grow exhausted- and she also makes all of your meals herself to prevent any poison from being snuck in.

As for Crunchy Chip Cookie, he’s a little more hands on when it comes to dealing with you. He’ll roughhouse and tease and pester, though always with a measure of restraint- his job is to keep you safe, so no going all out or actually fighting. Still, a wrestling match or two is good for your spirit and allows for the burning of excess energy.

Though you aren’t allowed outside, there’s no rules against bringing outside in… which means that the Cream Wolf pups can “secretly” visit you as much as they’d like! It’s an immediate mood-booster for both you and the puppies, so he doesn’t mind cutting into training time.

Dark Cacao knows about all these canine rendezvous, of course. Crunchy Chip ran it by him beforehand, but they pretend that all of it is happening just under the rug. Maybe a little bit of presumed “troublemaking” does your heart good.

Well, until you inevitably get attached to a ring and then shuffle into his throne room to guiltily ask to keep it as a pet after “confessing” to playing with them it frequently.

(…he says yes, to everyone’s surprise.)

Probably your name is something like “Chocolate Milk Cookie”, “Cocoa Powder Cookie”, or “Dark Truffle Cookie”.

(Though the many soldiers tasked with caring for you will inevitably slip in enough nicknames to fill a book…)

Constantly nervous/bored and frowning, the soft gifts you’re spoiled with can only do so much to keep your wanderlust and frustration at bay- not that Caramel Arrow and Crunchy Chip ever stop piling them on. You prefer the books over the plushes, but anything new gets your little sad face twisting into a gleeful expression, encouraging your guardians to continue piling the gifts on.

Dark Cacao has you permanently bundled into the traditional garbs of his people, constantly wearing a reminder of the long-buried soldiers who bravely gave their lives for their people.

Unfortunately for you, you aren’t granted the privilege of owning thick woolen socks or fuzzy fur-lined boots- instead, your father ensures that even a step out of line would have you freezing and desperate to return to the warmth of your room.

Instead, you are forced to remain barefoot all through the day, walking only in halls and rooms that have plush carpet laid out for your little feet- else you begin to crumble from the cold. Of course, if the weather ever gets to you, you can always return to your room and request a fluffy blanket or a hot meal…

So long as you do what father says.

Oceanfam/Gemfam

(Not sure which one yet… name pending, basically. “Mermaidfam” is a little long, haha)

Probably you’re a little thing who falls overboard after rowing out a little too far, caught in the careless waves and dragged under the tide, then beaten mercilessly against rough rocks and jagged coral. The event leaves you soggy, close to crumbling… until a tender mermaid comes to your rescue under the veil of moonlight, dragging you to her underwater palace.

White Pearl Cookie is happy to meet you, to know you, to drink in every last story you can share with her about your warm and dry home back on land- until you pass out in her arms, dough so broken that your jam spills into the waters of Tearcrown.

Luckily for you, the Little Moon of the Sea has no end to her patience and kindness! Given that you’re unarmed and somewhat crippled at the moment, there’s little harm in bringing you back to the palace and settling you in for an extended stay.

Her sisters, on the other hand…

Though she’s kind, Aquamarine Cookie doesn’t think much of you at first. Really, with your wobbly lips and tearful eyes that scrunch each time a wound is cleaned and patched, she mostly just pities you. Eventually you end up wandering into her garden, where she warms up to your curiosity and enthusiasm over her lovely array of foliage. Especially if you take notes as she speaks. Expect lots of veggie dishes to aid in your healing.

Though she finds most two-legged cookies to be far too odd to bother with, Gold Citrine Cookie has already raided your personal effects and taken a liking in your interests- after all, a cookie that loves the sea can’t be that bad, right? She snatches the prettiest shells from your bag and takes them to her reliquary, hoping to gild them until they’ve reached a level of sparkle that satisfies even her.

Maybe some two-legged cookies are worth getting to know, if you like the same things that she likes. If you make White Pearl happy, you can’t be too bad.

Given her powers of foresight, Mystic Opal Cookie has very little trouble finding where you’ll be or what you might want, often drifting into sight to offer up a warm shroud or a nutritious snack, then slinking back into the shadows without a further word. She won’t never indulge to you her visions, but it’s safe to assume that you’re at least in them.

Crimson Coral Cookie doesn’t exactly like having a dubious and dying land cookie in their ward, but like her other sisters, understands that you basically can’t do anything to harm them without ensuring a death sentence for yourself, and you’re clearly not stupid, so… she allows your presence to slide.

Once she sees how happy you make her littlest sister, Crimson Coral does genuinely lighten up and make a decent effort to understand you, especially if you have knowledge of aquatic animals- it’s an easy thing to bond over.

I’m guessing that this particular Y/N might be something like “Shoal Scavenger Cookie”, “Seaweed Sailor Cookie”, or maybe “Tide Tracker Cookie”- having ties to the sea certainly helps them earn the trust of the Gem Mermaids by proving that you aren’t too different in terms of what you and they cherish.

With components like seafoam or algae in your dough, you’re surprisingly resist to growing soggy in the water, even more so when you’re granted a jewel to ward off the condition entirely- albeit in the form of a bracelet or necklace that locks tight around your dough and can’t be removed by hand.

Gold Citrine enjoys dressing you in a dazzling array of glittery and luxurious clothing, often custom-tailoring flowing garbs that sway with each gentle wave that billows through Tearcrown… though she often forgets that you don’t have a tail.

(…not that they aren’t looking for a way to give you one.)

Darkfam

Y/N is a Cake Hound Cookie. There’s no way around it. Red Velvet Cookie finds your little form after it toddles out of the oven, delirious from heat and fear, shivering and quaking- and he fucking snaps.

You’re him.

A mixture of Cookie and Cake, beast and being, in a neat package with a tail that nervously wags as he brings food to your mouth, his clawed hand cupped around the back of your little head, feeling your squishy strawberry ears…

You are a seamless culmination that he can only dream of being.

In reverence and awe, he brings you back to his master’s lair.

For all that Licorice Cookie isn’t on board with having a freshly baked cookie on the team (especially with how much trouble Poison Mushroom Cookie causes him), he’s also aware that letting a child who is immediately and unmistaken visible as “half-monster” wander freely in the world would be worse, and the mage doesn’t have it in his heart to send you off after you’ve already settled in.

As for the shroom-fanatic themself, Poison Mushroom Cookie essentially just clings to you and offers an endless supply of “shroomies” with abated glee, constantly hanging from your sleeves and tugging on your tail as you go about the day, just happy to have a new friend after a certain swordsman left…

Pomegranate Cookie graciously agrees that Red Velvet should keep you alongside his other Cake Hounds, if only because she’s intrigued to see what you’ll be capable of doing. After all, another set of hands to aid their master isn’t exactly a bad thing- and you very well may have powers granted to you by nature of your birth as a cookie-cake amalgamation. In time, she comes to treat you as she treats Poison Mushroom- almost as a troublesome little sibling who needs watching over.

Never one to spurn decent company, Schwarzwälder is happy to have a cookie young enough to do as he says- you’re probably too young to grasp his born name, and settle for calling him “Brute”. I imagine he’s got some decent ground rules for being a canine, knowing what you can or can’t eat, what methods for tending to your ears and tails is best, etc, etc… probably the safest yandere we’ve gone over so far.

Perpetually confused at the new and strange world around you, your eyes are frequently wide and your face pulled into a contemplative frown, overwhelmed with all that your sensitive ears and nose pick up on.

Red Velvet wants to be the one who does your hair, but his cake hand makes it nearly impossible to complete without damaging your frosted strands, so Pomegranate or Licorice will do it instead. Poison Mushroom will, uh, “try”… but their version of “trying” is to braid little mushrooms into the frosting.

(A+ for effort, Poison Mushroom Cookie.)

However, Red Velvet does get to help keep your ears glossy and tail clean, spending hours each week tending to your canine appendages. He’s got specialized polish (by Schwarzwälder’s recommendation) for the strawberry ears that flick and swivel with each barked order and every little coo, and a brush for the cream dollop tail that waggles at Bat-Cat and Schwarzwälder’s antics.

All your clothes are custom-sewn, of course. Red Velvet simply won’t tolerate any less than the about best for his favorite little soldier.

Once Pomegranate has grown fond of you, she’ll take to stitching any tears or fraying in your clothes, mending them with a sleek red and black thread that resembles her beloved master’s color scheme.

(Schwarzwälder is probably your favorite, though- after all, he’s the only other dog!)

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Cookie Run Kingdom #Yandere CRK #Yandere Dark Cacao Cookie #Yandere Caramel Arrow Cookie #Yandere Crunchy Chip Cookie #Yandere White Pearl Cookie #Yandere Crimson Coral Cookie #Yandere Gold Citrine Cookie #Yandere Aquamarine Cookie #Yandere Mystic Opal Cookie #Yandere Red Velvet Cookie #Yandere Licorice Cookie #Yandere Pomegranate Cookie #Yandere Poison Mushroom Cookie #Yandere Schwarzwälder #Chocofam #Gemfam #Darkfam

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senseofnewness · 3 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/senseofnewness/759188575996837888/double-fault

do you think… it’s okay if not… you could write a little blurb on when she finally let patrick fuck her ass? hehe

original fic here (this can be read on its own but it's just smut)

double fault - bonus [nsfw]

With your IUD out, your body had begun to surge with hormones again, and it felt like they were taking over. You could sense that you were ovulating, and instead of seeking your husband’s company, all you could think about was feeling Patrick deep inside you. It was an intense need, almost animalistic, way more urgent than you usually craved him, and it frustrated you, especially after his smug comments about your life choices. Sure, he had apologized, but you had not forgiven him. You had every intention of giving him the cold shoulder for the next week or so, but instead, you found yourself at his doorstep, knocking with an insistence that embarrassed you.

After a minute of waiting, impatience got the better of you. You knew he was home, his car was parked in the driveway. He was probably just deeply asleep. It was still only 11 am, after all. For Patrick, that was a perfectly normal hour to be still in bed. You fumbled under the rug for the spare key, something you had done countless times before, and let yourself in. The thought crossed your mind that he might have some company, too busy fucking another to answer the door. Your heartbeat quickened at the idea of it, and with each step into the quiet house, you braced yourself for what you might find.

Once inside, you felt a wave of relief, no grunts or moans echoed from the bedroom, just the soft sound of Patrick's quiet snoring. You slipped off your shoes, moving on your tiptoes toward the bedroom. There he was, sprawled naked across the bed, his perfect back facing you, muscles relaxed in sleep. A smile tugged at your lips at the sight of him so vulnerable, so at peace. And at the fact that he was flashing his crack at you, this time unintentionally, for a change.

Quietly, you stripped off your clothes, letting them fall to the floor in a messy pile before you slid underneath the sheets. Wanting to feel him closer, you wrapped one arm around his broad back, sneaking the other under his head and draping it around his neck. You nestled your head against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent. He didn’t stir at your touch, just mumbled something incoherent. “Patrick…” You whispered into his ear, your breath warm against his skin. Your hands roamed across his chest, fingers brushing over his pecs, giving them a teasing squeeze. A wide grin spread across his face, his eyes remaining closed, sleep still lingering on him. “This is your neighbor.” You teased, leaning in closer, your lips brushing his ear. “The grandma?” He murmured, his voice thick with drowsiness. “Yes.” You whispered again, nibbling on his earlobe, your tongue tracing the outline of his ear. “Mmh, always knew you were kinky.” He replied, a lazy smile on his face and his mouth slightly open in bliss.

Playing with his ears was a guaranteed way to get Patrick’s attention. You let your fingers trail down his stomach, teasingly following the line of hair leading to his crotch. “For a second, I thought you were that girl.” He murmured, guiding your hand lower, his touch encouraging you to explore down his happy trail. “What girl?” You asked, deliberately skimming his pubic bone with your fingertips. “The clingy one who’s always coming back for more…” He added with a smirk. You frowned at his words. Clingy? Was that how he saw you? You weren’t clingy. Right? “Sounds awful.” You sighed, pulling your hand away from his lower abdomen. Patrick seized your hand, gripping it firmly. “No, I actually love it. She makes me so hard.” He confessed. You nestled your face into his neck, smiling. He loved it. He didn’t like it. He loved it. Or at least, he said he did. Maybe it was all sweet talk because he was hard and horny, maybe he did mean it. After all, he had not gotten rid of you yet. You peppered his neck with warm kisses but kept your hand withdrawn. He whimpered at the loss. Before he could protest further, you spat into your hand and wrapped it around his length, starting to stroke him. A deep moan escaped him as you worked him over. “Damn, grandma.” He groaned. You laughed softly, continuing your ministrations as you used your free hand to pull his face closer to yours. You pressed your lips against his, pulling him into a deep, urgent kiss. Morning breath and all, you didn’t care. You craved the feel of his mouth, the warmth of his tongue, and the softness of his lips. The thought that your kiss was the first thing he tasted upon waking, even before he had a chance to brush his teeth, turned you on. It was crazy how things that once repulsed you : sweat, the taste of cigarettes, morning breath, hairs, and even cum, now drove you wild when it came to Patrick.

You traced your fingertips along his jawline, lightly scratching the coarse hairs of his beard, while your other hand worked overtime on his cock. Patrick's hand slid down to grab his sack, fondling it in sync with your strokes. His mouth drifted from your lips, latching onto your chin as he sucked on it, leaving a trail of warm drool that marked you as his own. His tongue trailed down to your neck as you tried to sneak a glance over his shoulder at his cock. With Patrick, saliva was always part of the equation, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You tightened your grip around his hard length, tugging at it eagerly. Fisting Patrick’s cock was usually a way to coax a quick orgasm out of him when time was short, but now you knew it was likely the only thing he would allow, with penetration off the table. So you took your sweet time, gripping and sliding with deliberate care. His fingers dug into his balls, almost squishing them. That was usually a sign that he was close. Relief washed over you because your wrist was beginning to grow tired from the motion.

He finally came with a low grunt that made you grin as he glazed your hand, his stomach, and the sheets with his cum. You leaned in to place a soft kiss against his lips before gently releasing your grip on his cock. Raising your hand to your mouth, you licked it clean of his semen, savoring the tangy taste. Once he caught his breath, he turned around, flipping you onto your back. “Oh, so it was you all along.” He murmured, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face as he crawled on top of you, pinning your hands above your head. “You know that old cunt made a noise complaint.” He said, sitting on your stomach. “The grandma?” You asked, licking the remnants of cum from your lower lip, your heart racing with thrill. He nodded, trailing his hands down your arms, making you giggle when he lightly brushed against your armpits. His hands squeezed your breasts tightly before he leaned down, lifting himself off of you, trailing his tongue from the middle of your ribcage to the spot just below your belly button. He spread your knees apart, kissing his way to your core, where he paused, spreading your folds apart to reveal your clit and entrance. You used to feel shy under his gaze, but now you only felt sexy, empowered by the way he looked at you like a starving man. He buried his face between your legs, sloppily devouring you with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. “Patrick…” You gasped, instinctively trying to close your thighs around his head, the sensation overwhelming. In the back of your mind, a small fear lingered that he might remember you were off birth control and suddenly pull away without a warning, but for now, all you could do was lose yourself in the pleasure he was giving you.

Getting eaten out by Patrick was always a messy affair of sucking and slurping. He didn’t just lick you carefully, he simply made out with your cunt. He would suck on your clit until it was swollen and red, the skin nearly bursting, while his tongue dove deep inside you, lapping up your juices with eager, sloppy strokes. His face would be drenched with your juices, and his eyes never left yours, watching every moan and gasp that escaped your lips. Seeing your face as you came on his tongue was his favorite part. Then, he started tentatively flicking his tongue over your other hole. You instinctively tried to squeeze your cheeks in resistance, but he simply spread them wider, determined to get a closer taste. The tip of his tongue tickled your insides, and you whimpered. “I want you…” You tried to distract him from venturing any further. “Are you going to let me put it in then?” He asked, raising his head to meet your eyes. So, he was still fixated on the idea of fucking your ass? “Patrick…” You sighed, closing your legs in front of him, trying to put an end to his idea. “I can make you feel really good.” He murmured, gently prying your legs open again. “I didn’t clean myself.” You tried to argue, searching for any excuse to deter him. “I just had my tongue on your asshole. Believe me, I really don’t care.” He replied, his lips curling into an amused smirk. “Please?” He pleaded, his expression turning into a sad pout, as if he was about to give you those irresistible puppy eyes. “Patrick…” You repeated, trying to hold your ground, but he wasn’t giving up. “Please? I’ll eat your pussy two times a day in exchange. No, make it three!” He bargained, as if it was some chore for him when, in reality, he usually did it without you even having to ask. “Please?” He finally begged, his voice softer, more desperate this time. “Fine.” You sighed, finally giving in and leaned back on the bed, covering your face with a pillow. Truth be told, you didn’t want him to see the grin spreading across your face. You had finally gotten him to beg for it, just like you wanted.

You peeked from under the pillow as he moved over you, grabbing the lube from his bedside drawer. The anticipation in his eyes made your heart race as he poured the slippery liquid onto his fingers, spreading it carefully over your hole. "You ready?" He asked, his voice a mix of eagerness and concern. You nodded, though your nerves were on edge. "I'm just using my fingers for now." He assured you, dropping the bottle aside. He slowly slid his index finger inside you, pushing gently until it was buried to the knuckle. You were used to feeling his fingers brush against that spot, but this was different, it wasn’t just a joint, it was his entire finger, and instead of pleasure, it mostly felt like you needed to push him out. “Fuck… I don’t think it’s going to fit. You’re going to swallow me whole.” He muttered, biting his lower lip as he watched his finger thrust in and out of you. Instinctively, you clenched around him, hoping your tightness might make him reconsider and shift his focus back to your cunt. But instead of scaring him, it only seemed to fuel his desire. “Babe… You’re going to break it.” He whimpered, glancing up at you with a playful pout. He withdrew his finger briefly before placing both his index and middle fingers at your entrance, pushing them in slowly. The stretch was more intense, discomfort setting in as you felt yourself being opened wider than ever before. Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he spread his fingers apart like a pair of scissors, stretching you even further.

Two fingers weren’t even close to how big Patrick was. Sure, it was a small victory that they fit, but there was still a long way to go. “Pat…” You whined, closing your eyes as the discomfort began to edge toward pain. “I know, baby… You’re doing so good.” He murmured, his voice soothing as he tried to encourage you. You grabbed the pillow again, biting down on it as he curled his fingers inside you, flicking them gently. The sensation was too much. “I don’t like it!” You blurted out, your body instinctively trying to push his fingers out. He immediately withdrew his fingers, giving you a moment to recover. You uncovered your face at the sudden loss of contact, a mix of relief and frustration washing over you. “I promise it will feel good.” He assured you. He sounded sincere but anything felt somewhat good to Patrick, even intense pain. “Easy for you to say, you’re a guy! It’s supposed to feel good!” You whined, throwing the pillow at him in a moment of exasperation. He laughed, easily dodging the pillow as it landed on the floor. “Trust me” He said softly, planting tender kisses along the inside of your thighs. “I would never hurt you.” You couldn’t help but melt a little at his words. You knew he cared about you, he just had his own unique ways of showing it. “Alright.” You whispered, your eyes still shut, bracing yourself for what was next. Without hesitation, his two fingers were back inside you, gently but firmly working to spread you a bit wider. The stretch was still uncomfortable, but his reassuring touch made it more bearable.

After a minute of fingering, Patrick decided that adding a third finger might be okay. But it wasn’t. The burn was barely tolerable, making you whimper in pain. He immediately began trailing soft kisses from your pubic bone up to your throat, trying to distract you from the discomfort. “Pat…” You moaned, your voice tinged with desperation. You wanted to scream at him to just go ahead and slide in, to get it over with and endure the pain all at once rather than this slow, agonizing stretch. “I think I’m ready.” You said, though you knew it was a lie. Although the slow torture of his fingers had you second-guessing whether you could handle him, you wanted this to end as quickly as possible. Patrick’s eyes held a mixture of curiosity and concern as he spread his fingers wider one last time before pulling them out. “Turn around then.” He instructed, his voice firm yet gentle. You frowned, hesitation evident. “Can’t we do it like this?” You asked, gesturing to the bed where you were still lying on your back. “I want to watch what you’re doing.” You admitted, almost mumbling the confession. You didn’t want him to think you were suddenly enjoying the idea of it. “You don’t trust me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “I do.” You reassured him, meeting his gaze. “I just want to see why you think it’s so hot.” You whispered, your voice barely audible. Without a word, Patrick lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders. He grabbed his cock, generously coating it with lube, and rubbed the tip against your ass. “Can you see like this?” He asked, making sure you get to enjoy the show as well. You looked down at your crotch. While you still didn’t get a full view of your asshole, you could see his cock pressed against your entrance. You nodded, and he began to push his tip inside you. The intrusion was almost too much to bear, and you wanted to scream, but Patrick covered your mouth with his own, kissing you softly as he eased himself in.

You quickly grabbed his face, pulling him closer, feeling your eyes well up with tears from the stretch, despite Patrick’s soothing kisses. The sensation of fullness grew as he slowly pushed deeper, eventually reaching the depths of your guts. He paused once fully inside, allowing you to adjust to the feeling. Patrick pulled away just enough to glance at where your bodies joined, the sight causing his cock to throb inside you. “Fuck… I can’t believe it…” He moaned, his voice thick with awe. He sealed his lips over yours in a desperate attempt to muffle the scream that threatened to escape as he began to thrust into you. He thrust into your ass in a way that was completely different from how he did with your vagina. Rather than the long strokes and the pulling in and out, his thrusts were quick and short, never fully withdrawing. You gasped as his lower abdomen repeatedly bumped against your clit, the sensation being the only truly enjoyable part of it. “H-how does it… feel?” You managed to ask, though your breaths came in shallow gasps due to the awkward position. “So fucking tight.” He groaned, burying his face in your neck as he quickened his pace. Passion had overtaken him, with your comfort now coming second. The pain had dulled into something different, an odd sensation, as if something significant was happening, but not quite in the right place.

“Am I doing alright?” You asked, watching him as he thrust into you. You bit your lower lip, struggling to focus on the sensation. You wanted to be active and make him feel good, but you found it hard to move under his weight. “You’re perfect, baby…” His words gave you butterflies. You knew he was praising your ability to take him, but you chose to overlook it. The fact that he saw you as perfect was more than enough to make the fucking way more stimulating. “Does it feel good for you too?” He asked, sweat glistening on his forehead. You nodded, eager to make him happy. In truth, you liked knowing that he was enjoying himself, and that alone filled you with a sense of satisfaction. The penetration itself was tolerable, neither overwhelming nor entirely pleasurable, but it was enjoyable enough. For a moment, you thought that if you concentrated on Patrick hard enough, you might have been able to orgasm. So you studied him intently, observing his closed eyes and mouth hung open in bliss. From his long eyelashes, to the freckles scattered across his face and especially those on his lips, to his ears, which always drove you wild. Just when you thought this might be only a pleasurable experience for Patrick, he slid his fingers between you and began rubbing your clit. “Don’t bullshit me.” He said softly. You were glad you couldn’t hide anything from Patrick, he knew you better than anyone.

The sounds of his heavy sack slapping against your ass echoed in the room, mingling with your heavy breathing and Patrick’s moans. The old neighbor next door would probably have something to complain about again in the days to come. Patrick's fingers worked inside you while his thumb deliciously circled your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your lower tummy, making you smile with satisfaction. Now, you could fully enjoy yourself. You leaned your head back as he covered your neck with kisses, his teeth grazing your skin. “Patrick…” You moaned, clenching tightly around him. You placed your hand on top of his, guiding him to stroke you faster and apply more pressure against your clit. You could feel his cock driving into you with the tips of your fingers, as you were practically fucking his hand like it was your own. It didn’t take long before you were on the edge. You were always able to make yourself come within minutes. “C-c-coming…” You mumbled, tightening your grip on his hand and squeezing him hard as you moaned out his name. “Fuck, baby…” He gasped, his thighs contracting as his release grew closer. Just a few more thrusts, and he was there. “Me too…” He muttered just before he released his thick seed into you with a grunt, his body shuddering in the aftermath.

After a moment of stillness, he withdrew from you, carefully lowering your legs from his shoulders before collapsing on top of you, utterly breathless. You instinctively wrapped your trembling legs and arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. Nestling your head into the crook of his neck, you focused on calming your heart, which felt as if it might burst from your chest. That was it. You had crossed every boundary with Patrick. You were completely his and no one had ever owned you like this.

Maybe anal sex wasn’t so bad after all.

#patrick zweig #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #challengers fanfiction #challengers fiction #challengers 🎾#patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x reader #challengers smut #challengers 2024

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holdmytesseract · 3 months ago

Text

moodboard by the wonderful @chennqingg <3

One Last Chance [EoH]

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: Can you give Daryl one last chance and let him back into your life? After all, he never left our heart...

Warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol, swear words, angst? fluff-ish ending

Pre-Apocalypse Era!

Word Count: 2k

a/n: I dunno why, but I truly love this story. It's a very important part of the EoH universe. I hope you enjoy it, too! ☺️

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

And I was there standing outside your door

Waiting for you to show me how to stay

~ 'Ready to Fight' by Roby Fayer & Tom Gefen

"Go home, Dixon," spoke the bartender with dreadlocks, tattooed arms and lip piercings, while she was polishing one of the glasses. Daryl sat on the other side of the bar; fifth glass of Whiskey in hands. "You've had enough, don't ya think?"

The younger Dixon brother shook his head and snuffled. "Nah. Ain't enough. Still gotta numb the pain." Chrissie - the bartender - snorted out an almost sarcastic laugh, before shaking her head as well. "Alcohol won't solve yer problem. Whatever it is."

Now Daryl was the one laughing sarcastically. "Yeah? Well, I learned it from ma old man. Didn't fail ta help him." Chrissie rolled her eyes. "You're not yer father, ya know? Try to be better than him."

Daryl answered nothing for a moment; let her words sink in. The noises around him were so loud... Clinking glasses, loud voices and 'Every Breath You Take' by 'The Police' blaring from the old jukebox in the corner - and yet all he could hear were his own thoughts and Chrissie's words.

He took another sip; swallowing hard. "'S about a girl."

The hint of a smile could be seen on the bartender's face. "Thought so." Her words caused Daryl to frown. "Why?" She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "'Cause it mostly is. Yer not the first man sittin' here with lovesickness and a broken heart."

Once again, Daryl said nothing and just stared at his glass of Whiskey.

"What am I gonna do?"

Chrissie shrugged her shoulders. "Look, I dunno what the problem is, but I can tell ya this..." She threw the rug over her shoulder, leaned in closer to Daryl, "Go talk to 'er. 'S better than drowning yerself in alcohol." and took his almost empty glass away. The redneck shook his head. "Ain't workin'. Already tried. She ain't believin' me." Once more shrugged Chrissie her shoulders. "Then give her a reason to believe ya."

Those words struck Daryl to the core. Give her a reason to believe ya.

He lifted his gaze to meet the bartender's. "Fuckin' hell, yer right..." Chrissie winked at him. "I know. 'M usually right." Daryl stood up from the bar stool, "'S what 'm goin' to do." threw some money on the bar and immediately turned his back to leave for the door. Chrissie smiled; eyes following his figure vanishing in the crowd.

The redneck quickly made his way home. Well, as quick as possible with being definitely tipsy.

He staggered down the few steps, which led to his and his brother Merle's old, shabby basement apartment - if you could even call it an apartment. It was one room with an even tinier room attached, which served as a bathroom.

Daryl closed the door quietly behind him, but almost stumbled over a sleeping Merle, his empty beer bottles and stacks of Playboy and motorbike magazines with hot chicks on the covers. Merle grumbled and grunted in his sleep, but luckily didn't wake up. Daryl hadn't the nerve to argue with him now.

Reaching his little corner of the room, he rummaged through a pile of magazines, bills and other paperwork, until he found what he was looking for. With a victorious smile, he took the slightly crinkled envelope and made his way to the main door again. Why didn't he think of this right away? The possible solution to the situation he was in and the cure to his heartache was right in front of his eyes for days - maybe even weeks! He just had to grab it. And that's what he did now.

Fifteen minutes later, he sat in a train; heading for Toccoa - your hometown. It took Daryl less than an hour to get to your parental home. He swallowed hard as he set foot on the porch; not exactly great memories flooding his mind.

Running his hand over his face, he took a deep breath and rang the doorbell; praying that you'd open the door and not your mom. Or, if Daryl was very unlucky and your dad would open the door, he was pretty much fucked.

Nervously chewing on his thumbnail, he heard footsteps approaching the door, before it swung open.

Life truly hated him.

Fuck, the redneck thought; fighting the urge to close his eyes.

As soon as your father's eyes met his, the older man's expression hardened. "What are you doing here?" The grey haired man spoke in a harsh voice; crossing his arms over his chest. "I told ya that I never wanted to see your fucked up ass on my yard again - and yet here you are..."

Well, let's put it that way... Your father didn't exactly like Daryl. Neither did your mother. They were convinced that he was nothing but a lost cause. A loser. An alcoholic - like his father. A junkie - and certainly very bad company.

In your mom's opinion he was too old for you and your dad said that he'd rather see you die as a single woman than being together with a man like Daryl.

The chestnut brown haired man clenched his jaw; tried to keep himself together.

"I wanna talk to Y/N. She here?" "Yeah, she is - but I won't let ya talk to her. Never again. Now get lost, before I do something I might regret."

Daryl snorted out his breath. "I ain't lettin' ya forbid me to talk to 'er. She's a grown woman. Ain't a lil' girl anymore. You can't tell her what to do!" Now your dad was laughing out loud, "What do you want to do, huh? Break into the house? Strike me down? Or even kill me right away?" before he gestured around. "Please... Do so. The cops are here faster than you can run - or wait... Are you even able to run? I'm sure you've taken a ship loads of drugs since I lastly saw your sorry ass."

Anger started to boil in the redneck's veins - and he had a really hard time controlling it. But, he also knew, that he could not fuck this up now. He was here to fix things... Not to break them even more.

"You ain't know shit 'bout me or what I do. None of yer business anyways." Your father took a threatening step closer to Daryl. "Oh, I know enough, Dixon. And since you try to get your dirty hands on my daughter, it is my business what you do," the older man snarled; raising his voice.

Daryl also took a threatening step closer; causing the both men to stand mere inches away from each other. The tension was literally cuttable with a knife - but not in the good kind of way...

"Oh yeah?! Well, lemme tell ya this then. I-"

Daryl got cut off by a voice which didn't belong to the man standing opposite him. It was your voice.

"Hey! What the hell is going on here?!" You literally stormed through the door, seeing your (boy)friend and father almost being at each other's throat. "Well, I'm tryin' to tell your junkie ex-lover to move his ass from our property." "I ain't a junkie, you-" "I am a what, huh?! C'mon, say what ya have to say!" Your father immediately cut off Daryl. In return he planted himself straight in front of your dad threateningly; chest puffing.

That was the moment you knew you had to intervene, before something bad would most likely happen. "Stop! Both of you! That's enough!" You yelled and got in between them; pushing Daryl a few steps back - and he let you. Unbeknownst to you, took your sudden touch almost his breath away.

"For fucks sake, we are all adults here! Can we please behave like such, please?!"

Daryl immediately threw you a sorrowful look; while your dad still held his distrustful gaze. You looked both men dead in the eye, "Thanks." before you directed your attention fully on Daryl. "Why are you here, Daryl?"

The redneck swallowed hard. "'M here ta talk. Please." You took a deep breath, but nodded; "Alright." then turned to face your father. "Just a few minutes, okay?" He eyed you critically. "Please, dad?" You added; hoping to get through to him.

Silent second after silent second ticked by until he finally nodded. "Alright. But if he's not gone in ten minutes, 'm calling the cops. Are we clear?" Now you were the one nodding and agreeing to your dad's 'terms'.

With a last threatening look thrown at Daryl, the older man returned inside the house.

Once more, you met the beautiful blue-greyish eyes of the man who had undoubtedly captured your heart. For quite a few moments the both of you just stared at each other, until you cleared your throat. "What do ya want to talk about?" Daryl swallowed hard again; Adam's apple bobbing. "I miss ya..." The man whispered; causing you to immediately inhale deeply. "Daryl..." "No, please... Hear me out." You shook your head; crossing your arms over your chest. "We've had this conversation about a trillion times already..." "I-I know, but..." Daryl stepped closer to you. "Please. This time, 's different." "You say that every time, Daryl. And every time I gave you another chance and every time you fuck it up again," you paused for a moment; already trying to suppress the tears, before you continued. "Look, I really want to choose you, but... You're makin' it difficult."

The chestnut brown haired man squeezed his eyes shut for a moment; feeling the chilly evening breeze brush his bare arms and slip through the holes in his jeans. Chewing on his bottom lip, he nodded. "I know. Shit, I sure know I did. And I also know that I don deserve another chance. Problem is, that I fuckin' love ya, Y/N. 'M life's shit - but it's worse without ya, so please... One more chance. 'M beggin' you."

By now you were really fighting the tears. Still did his words cut deeper than a knife - because you felt the same. "I-I miss you too and you know that I love you more than I can say, but... I don't know how long I can play this game... I don't know if I can trust you over and over again, only for you to break it."

Daryl started to shake his head and took another step closer. "Nah, ain't fuckin' it up this time." He handed you the envelope, which was stowed away in his back pocket. You took it with a frown, "Open it." but did what Daryl told you.

Unfolding the piece of paper, your eyes widened. You certainly didn't expect that. "You... You've got an invitation for a job interview?" He nodded; hope sparkling in his eyes. "I-I- Wow... Didn't expect that, but... It's great for you." The redneck shrugged his shoulders half-heartedly; "Tried ma best, I suppose." giving you the hint of a smile.

"Whatcha sayin', sunshine? One last chance?" You took another deep breath; trying to thoroughly think this through. "I ain't goin' to fuck it up... Please."

What your heart wanted was clear. There was no mistaking, but... Was it the right thing to do?

You closed your eyes for a moment; knowing already that your wit had lost the game. Your heart was stronger. "Alright," you started and reached out your hand to subtly take his in yours. Daryl shuddered at your touch; goosebumps forming on his skin. "One last chance, Mr. Dixon."

Utter relief flooded the man's face - you could tell. He smiled that sweet, crocked smile you loved so much. "Thank ya. I won't disappoint ya. I promise." You lifted your free hand and cupped his cheek; feeling his stubble on your skin. "This was never about disappointment, Daryl..."

Daryl leaned into your touch and moved even closer; his intention clear - but you pulled back. "Not now. Not here. If my dad sees..." You swallowed hard. "We should keep that - us a secret for a while. I dunno what happens if we don't do that..." The redneck took a step back; nodding and lowering his head. "Yeah... Yer right."

You gave his hand a squeeze. "You should go now... Not that my dad really calls the cops. I wouldn't want that."

Daryl knew you were right, so he dropped your hand and walked down the steps leading to your porch. "I'll see ya?" He asked you; voice filled with hope. You smiled; nodding. "Yeah."

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @mischief-dream @whore4romance @bigbaldheadname @stitchintimefan @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @mikaela-granger @sweetz1919 @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @stiveroon @cakesandtom @dixons-sunshine @mayday2007

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monster-disaster · 2 months ago

Text

[wolf-shifter] Oliver

wolf-shifter!Oliver x human!male!Reader Good to know: malexmale, rut, smut

Summary: You are worried about your friend so you visit him.

A/N: Shelby's story can be found on my Patreon.

"Need a hand?" you ask, scratching the back of your head while eyeing the boxes piled haphazardly in the middle of the street. Screws glint in the early morning light, scattered across the ground in a mess.

"No, it's fine," the young woman replies, waving you off with a forced, tired smile. "You've got more important things to do than clean up someone else's screw-up."

A huff escapes your lips as you try to suppress a laugh, but a grin spreads across your face anyway. "Screw-up," you repeat.

"Go back to your buns," your neighbor from the hardware store chuckles. Her once-tense posture slowly relaxes as she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"You sure? Looks like a real pain," you offer again, casting another glance at the chaotic mess of supplies.

"Yeah," she nods, but her smile falters for just a moment, replaced by a brief, tight grimace. "It's not the first time," she mutters.

You want to press her a bit more, but a quick glance at the watch on your wrist reminds you that if you don’t get back to the bakery soon, the croissants will soon be smoking in the oven. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

The sound of her shuffling the boxes lingers behind you as you head back to your shop.

"Hello," you smile. "What can I get for you?"

"Just the usual, please," comes the reply, and without even thinking, your hand is already reaching for the bagels neatly displayed beneath the glass counter. The warmth from them seeps through the paper bag as you hand it over.

"Thanks. Have a good day," they say, already on their way out.

"You too," you call after them, but your voice is swallowed by the steady hum of the shop. Behind you, the espresso machine hisses, adding to the busy chatter all around.

The bell above the door jingles again, a soft chime that blends into the rhythm of customers coming and going. The line at the counter never seems to shrink. It seems like it stretches with each passing second, and you have barely any time to catch your breath between the orders.

"Mornin'," the familiar deep voice draws your attention away from the counter. The rag you use for cleaning is forgotten as soon as you see the man standing in front of you.

"Hello," you smile, straightening your posture without your noticing. "What can I get for you?"

"Two baguettes, please," Oliver replies, and you nod, turning away from him to reach for his order, yet keeping an eye on him the whole time.

The man you have known since kindergarten looks disheveled, more tired than usual. His hunched posture and the light sheen of sweat on his forehead under the bakery's bright lights make you frown.

"Are you okay?" You ask him.

"'m fine," he mutters, leaning against the counter like he's struggling to stay on his feet.

The wrinkle between your brows deepens. "Oliver-"

"I'm fine, Y/N," he grunts with a frustrated edge to his voice. "Don't worry about it."

Don’t worry about him. You almost scoff. Ever since he left Ironridge to join the military worrying about him is all you do.

"Sure," you say quietly, biting back the questions crowding your mind. The line behind him is growing, and you don't have the time to dig deeper, no matter how much you want to.

He takes the bag from you while already turning to leave. "Thanks."

"I'll call you later," you nearly shout after him, and even though he doesn't react as he makes his way to the exit, you know his sensitive werewolf ears hear you.

The usual morning rush slowly fades, and when you finally have a moment to yourself, you pack a small bag and fresh coffee to take over to your neighbor as a pick-me-up for her tough morning.

The streets are now bustling with activity; stores are open, and people move about their day. The sun shines down over the rugged mountains and woods surrounding the town, yet the air still carries a crisp hint of the approaching autumn.

The bell in the hardware store jingles as you push open the door, your gaze lingering on the boxes still piled outside. "Y/N—Oh," your greeting falters when you notice she is not alone. Shelby throws you an unimpressed glance, but you don't take it personally. You aren't sure if the orc has any other expressions.

"What are you doing here?" your neighbor asks, putting back something on the counter before turning her full attention on you.

You lift the paper bag and plastic cup with a smile. “Breakfast. On the house. Looks like you've earned it.”

"Oh, thank you!"

"Are you sure you don't need help?" you ask, placing the bag and cup on the counter. Your eyes flick to the boxes stacked near the window. "They look heavy, and I've got time."

Before she can answer, Shelby's gruff voice slices through the conversation. "I will take care of it," she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. She points at your neighbor. "You, eat."

"Shelb—"

"Eat," Shelby insists, then steps out to tackle the boxes with determined strides.

You stand there, trying to hold back a chuckle. "She's in a good mood today," you tease. "But if I'm not needed, I should probably head back to the bakery."

"Bye," the young woman hums, still a bit dazed by the sudden turn of events, and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from teasing her further.

When you get outside, you grin at Shelby while nodding her way, but she scowls back at you without a sound. Typical. She hoists the boxes effortlessly, barely noticing the bustle of people flowing around her. The town is now fully awake, with traffic picking up and the stores on the main street open for business.

Back inside the shop, you pull out your phone, sending a quick text to Oliver. Are you okay? Just as you tuck the device away, the clock strikes twelve, and a fresh wave of customers begins to pour in.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of baking and filling orders, each task blending seamlessly into the next. Before long, you are locking the shop door while the sun is already sinking behind the distant mountains. As you settle into your car, you suddenly remember the message you sent, but when you check the phone, there is no answer from the other man.

"Okay," you huff under your breath. "Change of plans."

Oliver lives in a small cabin in the woods. He bought the place after he came back from the army. He needed space and privacy, and his wolf was calmer so close to nature.

A narrow, hidden path leads you into the forest. The green of the trees looks tired now with the fall in the doorway, but the canopy above is still thick, barely letting any silver of light through the branches. Your car stumbles up on the dirt road as the wheels fight with the bumps and pits on the way.

By the time you reach the small wooden building, the sun is behind the horizon, with only thin rays of light painting a slight blush on the otherwise clear sky. Among the tall, towering trees, the cabin is old but well-kept, with fresh renovations here and there. There is a porch with only one chair and empty flower boxes on the windows.

Leaving your car next to his, you grab the small bag of pastries you intended to eat for dinner. The crinkling of the paper bag sounds unusually loud in the quiet evening air. You knock on the front door, but after several attempts with no answer, a frown tugs at your lips. You are almost entirely sure he is home, and there is no way he can't hear you. You test the handle, and to your surprise, the door swings open easily. It’s unlocked.

"Oliver?" you call, stepping inside. The house feels too quiet, a strange stillness clinging to the air as if it’s holding its breath.

"Are you home?" you try again, your voice echoing slightly in the stillness. No answer. Not even the faintest sound of movement.

"Oliver!" Stepping into the house, you close the door behind you and leave the small paper bag on the kitchen table. "I brought you food." Your steps creak on the stairs as you make your way up to the second floor.

"Oliver?"

A frown pulls at your features as you near his bedroom. Muffled groans and labored breaths filter through the thick wooden door, growing louder with each step you take.

"Oliver?" you call again, your voice softer this time, a mix of concern and hesitation. There's no response, only the strained, irregular sounds from beyond the door.

The doorknob is cold in your hand as you turn it and push the door open.

The sight of him takes your breath away.

He lies in the tangled mess of his bed, naked and spread across the sheets. A thin layer of sweat glistens on his flushed skin, and beneath, his muscles twitch and flex, caught in a rhythm between agony and release. His chest expands with every ragged breath, and your gaze from the tense plates of his muscles wanders down across his stomach to the happy trail leading down your attention between his thick thighs. His cock juts out, hard and leaking onto his lower belly.

Oliver is caught somewhere between human and wolf. His triangular ears twitch at the sound of your footsteps, tracking your approach even as his glazed eyes remain half-closed. A heavy, furred tail sways lazily beneath him, brushing against the sheets. The slow movement is in contrast with the violent changes rippling through his body. His usually toned, muscular frame is hairier now, with dark fur creeping across his chest and shoulders. His back arches off the bed, and a low growl escapes his lips as his body convulses. His muscles bulge, stretching and thickening with each passing second. You can see his fingers elongating, transforming into claws as his hands dig into the bed. His face, once familiar, begins to morph, the bones cracking audibly as his mouth stretches into a long muzzle.

"I—" Oliver wheezes between ragged breaths, his voice rough and strained as his body continues to betray him. "I forgot the pills."

Werewolves without partners rely on suppressants to dull the intensity of their heat or rut. These pills help manage the unbearable desire, easing the physical and emotional strain that comes with it. Without it, however, the experience shifts from manageable to agonizing and tense, turning what should be a few days of discomfort into a feverish nightmare that can stretch into a week or longer. Without the suppressants, Oliver is left to endure the full force of it. His body burns from the inside out in a constant state of arousal that offers no relief, only exhaustion, no matter how many times he relieves himself. The fever takes its toll, leaving him trapped in a haze of desire, weakened and drained by the time it finally passes. His usual control is gone, replaced by raw instinct, and a deep, aching hunger burns and only grows in his stomach. His wolf claws to the surface, pushing his boundaries and testing his limits.

"What can I do?" you ask, placing your hand on his forehead, though the thick fur covering his body makes it impossible to feel his skin.

Oliver's long mouth opens, but the words blur into a drawn-out whine as his fingers curl around your wrist. His grip is shaky but enough to keep you close.

"Please," he whispers, heart racing. His hips buck upward, his cock bobbing beneath its own weight. The sight leaves you breathless.

"Oliver-"

"Please," he whines again with desperation.

Before you can process what’s happening, he pulls you onto the bed beside him. You tumble onto the messy sheets, and in an instant, his arms are wrapped around you, dragging you against him with an urgency that sends a thrill down your spine. His hips grind against the rough fabric of your jeans, a rhythm fueled by the fire burning his veins. His hand slips beneath your shirt, claws grazing over your stomach and up to your chest. The tickling sensation makes your muscles jerk, and a shocked moan escapes your lips when his fingers find your nipple, teasing and pulling until it's hard under his impatient touches.

"C'mere," he huffs, propping himself on one elbow to bury his face into the curve of your neck. You can hear every deep breath he takes, sniffing you and letting his nose run along your skin and pulse.

"Oliver," you gasp, fingers raking through the soft, brownish hair on his shoulder. You feel his muscles moving, tense and alive, as his hips continue to thrust against your hips, leaving a dark patch on your pants.

The sight of this powerful man becoming a begging, whimpering mess under the delirium of his rut sends a rush of heat through you. Arousal floods your veins, and the zipper of your jeans presses painfully against your own erection. Your reaction to this big male so desperate and pathetic is automatic. At this point, you aren't even sure if you have the will to say no to him.

"I'm here," you tell him softly, trying to ground him amidst the chaos. Your hands move up and down on his back, letting your fingers glide through his fur. "'m here."

"Please."

You hesitate. Uncertainty swirls in your mind as you open and close your lips to say something. "Oliver..."

As if he’s reading your thoughts, his arms go still around you, and the air thickens with tension. His whole body goes rigid, afraid you will get up and leave him like this. "Don’t," he growls. "Don’t stop."

"Oliver," you murmur his name again. The weight of his desire hangs heavy between you, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him despite the sane part of your mind trying to stop you.

You met Oliver in kindergarten. It all started when you slid down the slide, and he happened to be on his way up on the wrong side. Before either of you realized what was happening, you both ended up in a heap at the bottom. You both groaned as you sent him tumbling onto your stomach, elbows first.

From that moment, you accepted him as your best friend, and he had no choice in the matter. You became a pair through thick and thin.

You were there when he enlisted in the military, and you were there when he came home to visit. And eventually, when he came back for good, you helped him find solace in the woods, away from the noises of the world.

And now, it's you and him again.

"On your back," you instruct gently, turning him until you are above him. His long arms are still holding you close. "It's okay. Let me take care of you."

He growls low in response, the sound vibrating through you as you let your hands explore his body. Beneath the warmth of his fur, you feel the hard contours of his chest and the thin layer of softness that has settled in since he left the army. He’s buff and thick, a blend of strength and comfortable softness that awakens a new desire in you. For a fleeting second, you forget about his leaking cock just a few inches away from you and almost let yourself rest on him, snuggling close.

Sliding down his tall body, you settle down between his legs. Your shoulders brush against his thighs as your hand wraps around his erection. The warmth radiating from your palm makes a thick bead of pre-cum drip down his shaft. Your fingers curl around him, moving your thumb up and down while exploring his length.

"Fuck," Oliver cries out. His hips instinctively buck up, and the pink tip brushes over your lips, emitting another growl from his throat.

"I'm here," you reassure him softly, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart.

Leaning in, you take a deep breath of his warm, musky scent and let your mouth envelop the sensitive head of his cock. His warmth fills your mouth as you suck gently, lapping at the small opening. He is heavy and salty on your tongue. As you explore him further, your tongue swipes over a vein bulging underneath his skin, brushing over the outline while you maintain a steady grip. You can feel his body reacting to each movement. His muscles tense and relax, and his breathing becomes more erratic with each passing second. His chest is heavy with need and desire.

“God, you feel so good,” he grunts, his voice hoarse with desperation.

Glancing up at him, your lips curve upwards as much as it's possible with this thick girth in your mouth. He looks like a proper mess, spread out on the bed, breathless and half-delirious. So, you deepen your efforts, taking him a little further until he hits the back of your throat, and both of you moan at the new sensation. You can see your voice rippling through his body, making him shake and tremble.

“Just like that,” he encourages breathlessly. His fingers tangle in your hair, guiding you gently up and down on his leaking cock and keeping you around his base every now and again.

His breaths become ragged, and a low growl escapes his lips as he nears the edge. His chest heaves, and his back arches until his muscles grow tight and hard.

“Please,” he whispers, strained. “I’m close.”

Increasing your pace, you match the rhythm of his breathing. You can feel his pre-cum and your own saliva dripping down your chin as you move up and down, letting your tongue swipe up across the underside of his length and linger around the tip of his cock.

The air thickens as he goes tense and rigid beneath you, and with one final thrust, he lets out a low groan. The sound resonates deep within you, throbbing down straight to your cock. His body shudders in the next second as he reaches his peak, and you brace yourself, feeling the rush of his release. He is thick and salty in your mouth, and you gulp around him as much as you can, but the long spurts of his cum leave a mess on your face and around his cock anyway.

As Oliver recovers from the intensity of his orgasm, a new spark ignites in his eyes, and before you know it, with a swift motion, he flips you onto your hands and knees. His movements are both commanding and careful. The sudden change of position sends a rush of adrenaline through your body, making your nerves buzz with a thrill that heightens your senses.

You kneel at the top of his bed while the wolf behind you tugs down your clothes hurriedly, ripping into the thin fabric of your shirt as he gets rid of it and throws it onto the ground carelessly.

"Hey," you groan, half-laughing, but your friend is too busy to reply.

His attention is on the shifting muscles on your back and the straight line of your spine that lead him down to the tight curves of your ass. A low rumble escapes his throat at the sight, and suddenly, his large hands are on you. His long fingers dig into your flesh, kneading and groping your cheeks to his heart's content.

"Fuck," Oliver groans. "I will take care of you."

You huff, letting your weight rest on your elbows. "I don't doubt it." Your lips are open to say something else, but the words blur into a loud wheeze when you feel him spreading you open, letting his thumb brush over your exposed hole. Your body reacts on instinct, pushing back against him for more. Your back arches, and your muscles tense with impatience.

His next words make you forget how to breathe for several seconds. "I can't wait to taste you."

Without waiting for an answer, Oliver leans down and lets his tongue swipe a wide, wet path between your cheeks. He teases and prepares you slowly, curling his long tongue before slipping past the tight rim of your hole to soak you in his saliva. Every lap and grope on your ass punches a new sound out of your chest you barely recognize as your own.

"Oliver," you breathe out his name, pressing your forehead against the messy bedsheets underneath you. "Fuck me. Pleasefuckme!"

"Soon," he growls back, slipping a finger inside you slowly and carefully. He watches you open up to him while you moan and groan at the other side, rocking your hips back and forth to make him hurry.

You burn and stretch around his finger, but every fiber of your body begs for more, driving you half-crazy with the need for the wolf. Your mind is dizzy. The world shifts and swirls around you several times until you close your eyes.

Oliver nips at your flesh, letting his sharp canines brush over your skin while adding another finger to make you wheeze and jerk at the new sensation. Your cock, between your spread thighs, bobs with every relentless movement of your hips and leaks onto the bed, hard and sensitive. You know one touch would be enough to make you cum, but your senses are so focused on the wolf behind you that touching yourself doesn't even cross your mind.

By the time Oliver is done stretching you, you are nothing but a drooling, moaning mess under him.

"Hold onto something," the male warns, but it almost makes you laugh. There is just enough strength in you to keep yourself in position, you seriously doubt you could hold onto anything.

"Just fuck me finally," you croak, pushing back when you finally feel his cock rubbing and prodding at your hole.

Soon, the bedroom is filled with the sounds of your moans blending into his low, desperate growls. His breathy grunts fan over the nape of your neck as he rocks into you, edging you closer and closer to your orgasm without touching your cock even once. Your whole body is on fire and ready to burst with pleasure. The base of your spine tingles, sending ripples through every twitching muscle that rocks back and forth against the other male's rhythm.

"Fuckfuckfuck," you chant airy, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen.

"Cum for me," Oliver almost howls, hips stuttering as he feels his own pleasure building. You feel like a glove around him, tightening and fluttering as you writhe and chase your orgasm. One of his large hands from your shoulder, slips down on your side and down between your legs. His fingers barely have any time to curl around your raging hard-on when you cum with a shout.

White-hot pleasure strikes through you, igniting every nerve with a force that leaves your muscles taut and trembling until they slowly melt under the intensity. The rush overwhelms you. Your mind swirls, and your body convulses around the male behind you. Oliver holds onto you as if his life depended on it. You feel him shudder, his breath ragged as his restraint snaps only moments later. His low, guttural growl fills the air, and the sound only pulls you deeper into the blissful haze.

When you open your eyes again, you’re lying on your side, cradled against Oliver's chest. His arms are wrapped around you protectively. His heat seeps into your skin. His breath is steady and warm against your neck, but you feel the tension still humming in his body. Your limbs feel heavy and weak to do much more than nestle into his hold.

"Sleep," the wolf hums behind you, pressing his nose against your pulse. "I will need you again soon." His words carry both a promise and a warning, and you feel a lazy smile tug at the corner of your mouth as your body surrenders to rest.

The following days blur together. Time loses meaning as Oliver’s rut consumes you both, and everything beyond the two of you fades away. Food, water, and even coherent thoughts seem secondary. You try to call your friend to manage the bakery, but even that feels distant as the wolf’s insistent presence dominates your world.

It’s only when you wake one morning and find his side of the bed empty that you know the fever has passed. The sheets are cool where he once lay. With legs still shaky, you drag yourself into a quick shower, borrowing one of his worn shirts and a pair of pants before making your way downstairs where you hear him moving around.

"Just in time," the man says, putting two glasses onto the table when you appear at the bottom of the stairs. "I'm sure you are hungry," he grins at you wolfishly, motioning to the food laid out on the table.

You groan, rolling your eyes. "Shut up."

He laughs but motions you to sit down.

For a while, the only sounds are the clinking of utensils and the soft stirrings of nature outside. The sun filters through the window, casting a warm, golden glow over the scene.

You clear your throat, searching for words. "About the last few days..." The unfinished sentence hangs in the air, awkward and uncertain. You don’t know exactly what you want to say, but the need to address it lingers.

Oliver interrupts before you can find the words. "How about a date?" he asks suddenly, his tone casual but his eyes watching you closely. "At your favorite place."

You blink in surprise, caught off guard by the suggestion. A smile slowly forms as you meet his gaze. "Yeah," you say, a little more softly than you intended. "I'd like that."

Oliver isn’t one to openly share his feelings, but this- this is a good start.

#monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #monster smut #monster fucker #terat0philliac #ironridge #werewolf x reader #werewolf smut #werewolf boyfriend

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