#even though it's annoying that everyone keeps doubting you
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stardancerluv · 3 days ago
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What the Emperor Wants
Part Fifteen
Summary: Revelations from the past, blessings move things forward.
Notes/Warnings: Angst, jealousy related to possible prior sexual activity, Invidia (goddess of Jealousy) mention of prior voice between Reader & another female servant, Blandus is a man who owned Reader, mentions of abuse from a father
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You winced. You flinched.
“Sorry, my lady.”
“It’s ok.”
The pins pricking your skin were beginning to annoy you. You had never thought it would be this involved. When your older brother had been married, you were too young to be aware of all that was involved.
“Is our future empress decent?”
Your heart stilled, you glanced at the woman, fussing on her dress. After what had happened with him and Dundas the previous evening, you did not know what to expect next from Caracalla.
“Yes.” You swallowed.
There was a swish of fabrics and a soft, chirp that gave away to Dondas’s presence as well.
“Sire.”
The woman fluttered the material that hung on you before she quickly bowed and knelt.
You bowed as well, keeping your eyes down cast.
A soft chuckle, a sound you had only heard perhaps while he fed or watched the bouts in the arena.
“Look at you.” The usual malice was not there.
From what little you could see, he moved in a soft blur of the colorful fabrics.
“Leave us. Go to the hall. You can finish when we are done speaking.”
Dondas, chirped and squeaked. It almost sounded as if she was echoing what he had said.
“Yes, sire.” The woman whispered. The steps faded away.
“My future sister. I always wanted one.” He made a thoughtful sound.
Dondas chirped once again.
“You can look up.”
You did.
He actually looked soft. Like how did when he addressed Geta when he spoke of missing him. It was a rare sight.
“I have not liked you. Geta has never had favorites.”
You swallowed.
“He has always gotten the best so he never needed favorites.”
You pressed your lips together.
“However, last night Dondas;”
He paused and looked at her in an even softer manner.
“Dondas, appears to like you. Appears to feel that you are worthy to be empress along side my brother and myself.”
Dondas, clapped on his shoulder.
Maybe there was more to his little monkey than everyone knew, you mused. You never known such an animal to be so in touch with those around it. Perhaps, a horse maybe or the chickens when you would sing to them. But never an animal such as this. You were grateful for it though.
“She accepts you, I accept.”
You moved to show respect to what he said and to Donas.
“I am grateful.” You finally whispered.
He nodded. Then he took a step that was quicker than you could breathe and he was in front of you.
“If you are planning to harm Geta, Dondas or me. It will be an action you will regret.”
He chewed on his bottom lip, glancing at Dondas before looking back at you. Dondas, you watched clutch his clothing.
“I will have the Praetorian guard hang your entrails and your head. I will tell the world of your betrayal.”
Fear, crawled down your back. He so easily could switch from being so soft to as sharp as any solider’s blade.
“There is no betrayal in my heart sire.”
A smile crossed his face once again, Dondas even gently patted his cheek.
“Good. Now, I shall have you return to having your clothing prepared for the celebration, wedding of you and my brother.”
“Thank you.”
Once more there was a blur and soft whisper of the clothes that hung on him and be was gone.
******
“Was she tested?”
He was used to his mother fairly well composed, calm even but she was the opposite of that right now. He wasn’t sure how he felt seeing her in such a manner.
“Has she paid a visit to Asclepiades?”
“Yes, mother.”
Nothing made him feel more like a child than when having to answer to her. Her doubting his wishes, made knots form in his stomach. He did not want his anger get the best of him.
“You took notice of her in the royal box?” Her voice growing shrill.
He nodded.
“Why not the streets?” She sneered.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
His mother whirled around, the fabrics fanning out, some of her jewelry clinked dramatically. She took a step towards him, her eyes narrowed.
“It’s good your father is dead. He’d have words with you.”
“More like the back of his hand would be meeting my face, my mouth to silence me.” He muttered, remembering the few words exchanged but the hits that were and the ones that landed.
“Don’t speak ill of him, he is dead.”
“He is. I’m not. I speak the truth, I’m sure we will argue once the boat takes me the side of the river he now is on.” He replied cooly.
“I have to agree, I am certain that will happen too.” She pressed her lips together. “If I’m being honest, I had thought if you were going to marry anyone, I would have thought it would have been Tertia.”
“Seriously? She is nothing more than a vessel, you gave Caracalla and I. When, she preferred him over me I looked elsewhere.“
“She did?”
“She has a thirst for blood that drew her to him. So she easily went to him. I lost interest.”
He shrugged.
“Perhaps, it was the guiding of the gods. His illness could have been a resulting of bedding her.”
“I had never known, the servants whispered differently. “
“Because I carried on the appearance of the bedding. It ensnared her but I never allowed anything further.”
She shook her head. “You were always very smart. Knowing of your rightful place in our world.”
He allowed himself to enjoy the compliment. They were so scarce.
“She is smart as well.”
He met his mother’s eyes directly.
“You would find her amusing.”
“Great.” She rolled her eyes. “Exactly, what is needed a smart and amusing empress.” She sneered.
“Did word also reach you, that she did save my life.”
Geta, could see her pause. Something shifted in her stormy eyes
“What?”
“Not too long ago, an assassin crept into my chambers. She stopped him, then the next day I delivered justice.”
“Good.” She paused. “But how do you know, she wasn’t in on it?”
“I know.”
He pressed his lips together, he eyed the vase near him. He wished he could throw it. An anxiousness came over him, he wished he could expel it.
******
Relief, filled you as you slipped into the stola you had started the day in. You were finally getting used to how slip on these more luxurious ones. They were not as complicated as you first thought.
Aelia, had laid it out for you while you had bathed. It was so lovely and soft. A smile played on your lips as you grazed your finger tips along the fabric. You could have never imagined anything feeling like this, it was as gentle as a breeze.
As you walked over to where the sol shone in and flowers grew; you were grateful your time with the woman who was working on your wedding tunic and veil were finished. The pins were getting too much.
Despite, the all the people that were now in the royal domus, you were able to make your way over to where flowers grew and the sol shone in. Kneeling down, you brought a flower to your nose and sighed. Their fresh scent was very pleasing.
“My sweet blossom, I was hoping I’d see you.”
Geta’s voice came from behind you, your heart beat harder in your chest. Turning, you saw him standing near one of the mighty columns.
You stood with a quick glance around, you went over to him. You wanted to reach out, take his hand but you didn’t.
“There are whispers that my brother spoke with you.”
You nodded. “There was no anger when he did.”
“Oh?”
“From what he said, you never played favorites and he had not liked it when you did it with me.”
Geta, shook his head. “That illness, that illness…”
His gaze went beyond you, he rung his ringed hands. His words were stuck in his mouth.
“Yes.” You gave him a worried glance before continuing. “He feels that since Dondas accepted me as empress, he should as well.”
His eyes drew back to you, they grew. You finally reached out and took one of his hands. It was heavy with the rings but was cool to the touch.
“Dondas?”
You nodded.
He swallowed. “It makes his thoughts and reasoning a mess.” He sighed. His hand moved within your grasp so that now he could hold your hand.
“Yes, but Geta at least he has finally accepted me. This will make our wedding not as difficult. I wouldn’t want him to have a fit during or after during the celebration.”
“True, very true. Though, now there is there is my mother. She has questions.” He pressed his lips together once more. “And your brother, he rides to the city. What if he disapproves?”
You went with what you felt in your heart. You had seen the man. When he came to your small room, telling you he was yours fear had filled you. He was not as fearsome or terrible like the whispers had spoke of. Now with him in front of you, saw beyond all the stories, you saw beyond his anger that took ahold at times.
“Geta, you are the emperor of Rome. You have chosen me.”
Your heart clenched.
“The gods guide you, they speak through you. They brought you to me. I will follow you always. No mortal, will stop me.”
He smiled then. His hand reached up and cupped your cheek. “I did.” His thumb caressed your cheek. “And I will always thank the gods for their guidance.”
*******
Your words had hit him, it had pleased him that he had chosen so well. He was entering a new part of his life. Becoming a husband, would add an interesting part of who he was.
Pacing and turning the rings on his fingers he mused on what laid ahead.
He knew the people of Rome were fickle. But he kept them fed and entertained. Acacius, was a loyal and fantastic General. His brother and his illness clung to him. He wish there was something that could be done. At least Dondas, despite it being an animal appeared to bring him calmness.
******
You stood straight as the woman walked around you, looking you up and down. All you wore before her was the bracelet and ring, Geta had given you.
She had given Geta, his sharp eyes sharp eyes.
“Your skin is very smooth, unblemished.”
“Yes, Empress dowager.”
She drew close. She smelled like honeysuckle and lavender, it was oddly comforting despite the menacing air that hung around her.
“How did you come to Rome?”
“I said goodbye to my mother, little brother with a small loculus that held some food, a few coins and a small length of ribbon and cloth my mother twined together, to remember my family. And off I walked.”
She rose an eyebrow. “How did you manage to work in the royal box?”
“A man, Blandus seeing my potential took me in. He taught me how serve wine, small dishes and how stand in the shadows. From there a day came, and Tertia who I now see fluttering around here had taken ill one day or Blandus wished me to take her days in the royal box.”
“I see. And you had said to my son, you never laid with a man. You never laid with this Blandus?”
“Never, he enjoys the company of men.”
“Interesting. Tertia, you say?”
An expression, you could not read washed over her face.
“I believe she may have laid with my sons.”
Knowing, Tertia could have laid with Geta sparked an anger in you, you were not familiar with. You swallowed.
“Do you not like her?”
“I only know little of her. She has a fury, I wish to not ignite it.”
You remember, she had ripped at your braids the day at the end of her illness when her strength came back. She was practically a mortal version, of Invidia. News, had come to her of your presence in the royal box. If it had not been for some weakness from when she was ill, you were convinced she could have hurt you more.
“She did seem to have a level of determination. When the dispatch had reached my gates, that my son was to marry I thought it would have been to her. I had never heard of you.”
The spark within you grew to a flame that would grew and flicker from a candle.
“I am to flutter about like a butterfly with exquisitely delicate and colorful wings to bring the pleasure of a good wine, cheese or fruit to those I was to serve. I would never intrude on any of the whispers in the royal box or any place I was told to be.”
The woman smiled then. “My son, whose first love was poetry spoke of the beauty of your words.”
A pleased warmth came over you dampening the anger filled flame.
“That was quite beautiful.” Her smile grew. “I am glad I have only now heard of you. Get dressed.”
********
You were in your room once again dressing. Exhaustion had a firm grip on you. From the pin pricks than followed the words of empress dowager about Tertia whirled in you. A part of you knew it should not be felt, he had chosen you afterall.
“Blossom, today was a day of many blessings.”
Geta’s voice reached you, despite you not even hearing the door opening. You turned to receive him, a soft warmth filled his face.
“Dondas and Caracalla were the first;” a soft chuckle broke his lips. “and now that of my mother.”
He was serious once more but not any less happy looking.
“Blessings abound.” You smiled, your stomach lurching.
You noticed a stillness come over him. “Is there something lurking or casting a shadow upon you?”
“Your mother spoke of things that brought the cloud of concern to me.”
You had promised to follow him, you would tell him.
“My mother does have a manner that stirs emotions, what did she say?”
He took a step closer to you.
@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @laura-naruto-fan1998 @screaming-blue-bagel @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @helsa3942 @marrowfrog00 @misspendragonsworld @therealjomarch @deliciousfestsalad @aspiringcokewhore @justalittlebitshy
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oc-luckybreeze · 2 years ago
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kissitbttr · 1 year ago
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nobody understands how you did it.
how you managed to swept him off his feet, breaking the walls he had built pieces by pieces, how the fuck did you get him to be comfortable with you? to be open with you? and only with you.
‘never seen him this happy or loose in a long time, lass. what’s your trick, eh?’ the captain pulls a joke, making the rest of the team laugh. ‘i think I speak for everyone when i say, he never brings a girl out. let alone introducing her to us.’
that one is true. years of being friends with ghost, the captain nor his closest friend ‘soap’ has ever seen him out on a date. they encouraged him though, since there have been so many women tried their ways to get close with the big guy, yet none of them succeed.
the masked men would often just shrug them off and give one hard cold answer. they would back away immediately
“guess i just have my ways” is what you always say. even soap couldn’t register how it happened. he couldn’t figure it out himself, he knows the lad way longer than you do.
they don’t believe you. because there is no way in hell that all you did was to bat your lashes, show him your adorable giggle and he was in. there’s gotta be more to it.
so what is it about you that draws him close? what is it about you that makes ghost’s eyes light up each time you step into the room? what is it about you that makes ghost’s heart skip a beat every time he talks to you?
certainly not because how you’re so patient in getting to know with him, right? not because how you trace his scars ever so lightly and call them pretty every single time he’s doubtful about himself. not because how you console him with ‘I’ve got you, baby’ each night a nightmare comes back to haunt him while rubbing his back soothingly. not because how you shower him with soft, gentle kisses to remind him that your love for him is bigger than anyone could have offered. not because how you understand why he can’t say the three letter words to you, just yet. still, you stick around.
definitely not, right? there’s no way. he’s simon ghost riley. no one or nothing could ever be good enough to make this man come out of his shell. it’s impossible, right? you’ll need a miracle for that.
“love?” you hear a voice calls, along with the sound of keys being tossed into a ceramic bowl. heavy boots thumping against the marble floor,
you step out of the kitchen. long hair tied up into a messy updo, clear frame glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. dressed in one of his favorite sleeping gown as your eyes locked with his brown ones. the balaclava still attached to mask his handsome face.
scarred lips stretch into a smile the moment his beautiful fiancé emerges from the kitchen.
he drops his bag onto the floor, pulling the mask off of him slowly. revealing his disheveled blond hair as he takes slow steps towards you.
“hi, baby” your voice brings him home. no soul could ever take away from him. he longs for that angelic tone each time he gets deployed. three or six months without listening to you speak to him is just insanity.
he’d rather lose his hearing entirely than not having to hear you at all.
he’s quick to embrace you in his arms. your face hiding in the crook of his neck, inhaling that signature scent of his that you had missed, dearly.
“what are you making?” he mumbles into the crown of your hair, giving it a peck before pulling away slightly to take a good look at you. “it smells good”
“your favorite” you kiss his chin, causing his cheeks to redden at the affection. “i even bought those lumpias down the 112th street. i know how much you love them. pretzels bites from the deli for snacks aaand, black pepper beef with rice for your dinner. sounds good?”
simon leans against the doorway as he watches you plate everything. rambling about everything. his smile widens even more at your domestic antics. the way you talk with your hands as you mention another annoying co-worker that keeps bugging you and the way you roll your eyes when a splash of gravy spill from the plate.
truly is a sight.
“why are you looking at me like that?” your lips raise into a curious smile, finger moving a dark lock that sticks into your forehead,
he gives you a small shrug. gaze not leaving you neither does his smile.
“you’re just so beautiful”
something so simple yet it makes your stomach fills with butterflies.
you chew on your lower lip to prevent you from smiling too much, but a hint of blush is dusting your cheeks betrays you.
“come, papi… don’t want the food to get cold now, do we?” you change the subject while you nod your head towards the empty seat across. “eat with me”
the two of you sit there while making a small talk. stealing glances every second. feeding each other’s food. soft laughs fall upon both of your mouths when one make a terrible joke.
something you’d see when two people are in love. c
so yes, the answer to that question. it is possible. because you made it possible. you made it possible for him to love again. even if he had to start all over. you made it possible for him to be vulnerable. you gave him a purpose the moment he thought things were looking bad for him.
he found a solace within your existence.
only you made it possible to bring the simon in him.
vbecause you. are his home
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bluerosefox · 9 months ago
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Invites
"OMA, kill meeeee" Ellie, aka Wrath complained as she allowed her head to 'thunk' on the cafeteria table in the Watchtower she phased into in order to sit in next to a boy dressed in red, yellow, and green.
"Aren't you already halfway there?" Came Robin's response as he took a drink of his water, eyeing his teammate with a raised eyebrow, though it was difficult to tell with his mask in place.
"OMA?" Asked Superboy on the other side of the boy.
"Shush you." She said towards Robin before answering Superboy "Oh my Ancients, it's like OMG but like for us ghosties."
"Tt" "Oh!" Came both their responses.
"So..." began Superboy after a few minutes of silence between them as he looked at Ellie like a confused puppy "Why?"
Ellie groaned and just stayed slumped on the table as she said "Da's dumb Observants council is hosting another dumb ball to try to get him or me hitched again, and like always I'm forced to attend because I'm Da's heir. We both hate it with a passion, most are just stuck up, power hungry, social climbers trying to get into our pants for the royal titles... Espcially if they become our Forevermores."
"Tt, why not just get rid of them? Or simply have your Father dismiss the ball." Robin said, his eye twitching in annoyance just at the thought of it. A ball sounded even more annoying than the gala parties he is made to go to.
"Sounds stressful... Also Forevermores?" Superboy asked, he was always curious of Ellie and her ghost culture but never knew what could be asked or not, he had been warned to never ask how a ghost died after all and that question is normally asked in every ghost hunter video on the internet.
"Forevermores is our term for the ONE. The one and only we will ever be with. Till our final end takes us we are always to be with them only. We are core creatures and bonding on that level is like sacred, we don't rush into bonding like that though. But everyone in the Realms hopes to be either become mine or Da's. And the ball is their best chance at meeting us on neutral grounds." Ellie explained as best as she could for Jon, it was hard trying to explain the type of level a Forevermore was "And to answer you Robin, Da can't. The Observants, despite how annoying they can get with their dumb demands, are part of the system council for the Realms, they're sadly needed to keep things in check hence their name. Da and his friends are still trying to find a loophole to get rid of them though. They were only created when they put Tyrant King to sleep and they still sadly have some backings from other powerful ghosts in the Realms, even an Ancient or two and in order to fully dismiss them we need all Ancients on board. And the ball keeps a lot of ghosts, especially the more powerful ones, errr I guess happy? Most just use it to gossip on neutral grounds, others just like to dance, network, or other junk like that. Basically, when it's not about them trying to get mine or Da's hand in ghost marriage, it's fun so Da can't dismiss it, it'll ruffle to many feathers."
"Wow..." "Tt." Were the response from her teammates.
"Yeah. Da really isn't happy because someone suggested inviting powerful people from a few Mortal Realms this time. Somehow it got approved. So... here." She said as she reached into her own chest, phasing her hand in, and pulled out two green envelopes and placed them on the table in front of them. Both boys stared in surprise to see their names written in dark purple ink and the stylized DP on it.
"CW let me invite you guys personally. Everyone else should be getting theirs in about a few minutes complete with a blaze of green fire and spooky vibes." Ellie said with a strained smile, both happy to invite them but also dreading the questions she'll no doubt have to answer once the invites were sent.
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saturngas · 7 months ago
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him getting hard at you yelling at him
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[🪐] the kyoto exchange event is soon and your husband has been meeting up a lot with a coworker. you get a bit jealous, not aware that your husband may have a thing with that
pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader
genre: a bit angsty at the beginning, suggestive, not really smut
warnings: established relationship; jealousy; possessiveness; boners; a bit of toxicity; idk if this is super canon but some scenarios are from the jjk game phantom parade;
word count: 2.9k
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..
this is stupid right? you know your husband has a natural charm that is often misinterpreted as annoying and obnoxious. not everyone is prepared to receive all that satoru gojo has to offer, only a few people have dared to try to keep up with him, including yourself.
and you knew his coworkers weren't really... fond of him.
so why were you all of the sudden so bothered by him going out so much with his female coworker utahime?
the sister school exchange event was happening soon, in two weeks to be more precise. you were a former sorcerer yourself, though you weren't really involved in the education regarding the sorcery school; so this event was more of satoru's business, you were only required to be present during the group combat.
"sweet cheeks, im going out with nanami! just to discuss things about the exchange event." he had said one day. you wished him good luck with no negative thought in mind.
"baby, Nanami wasn't of much help, so now I have to go talk with utahime." he pouted. and you paid no mind. it was known to almost every breathing being that utahime wasn't confortable around satoru, even as going to telling him to leave her alone. that has being their relationship since satoru was in high school, him often disrespecting her authority and status as a sorcerer, and her just chastising him as his former senior.
so why were you so troubled if you knew this about them? well probably them going out three times this week stirred a nerve.
it's because the exchange event. you kept telling yourself, but you couldn't avoid the venomous feeling of jealousy. which was an actual insult to your relationship with satoru, who had never given you reasons to doubt him, on the contrary, he often showers you with infinite love and words of affirmation that only fulfill your love for him.
but hasn't utahime grow tired of him already? you questioned deeply. she was his number one despiser. being with satoru for only ten minutes aged her ten years. you were incredulous she was lasted so much around your husband. even if it was work-related.
it was a Friday. your husband visited his female coworker twice this week, this day being the third encounter. he hadn't told you where, though you were sure he would have told you if you were to ask him. but you didn't. it was your untouched pride that had stopped you from that. not wanting to make your jealousy public. you were certain of the endless teasing satoru would treat you with.
you were alone in your shared house. it was actually your day off. day you had planned to spend it with your silly spouse, before his phone buzzed and he announced his meeting with utahime. it would be a lie to say you weren't upset.
"take care, toru. and please come back soon." your farewell felt bittersweet, bitter to you, sweet to satoru. his obliviousness about the hurricane going inside your core was only contributing to your indignation.
as you turned on the tv in front of you, you tried brushing off the corrosive sensations that came within the recap of the events occurred this week. the remote seemed to have a mind of its own as you picked some random show absentmindedly, just something to cloud your head.
utahime was actually a nice and proper woman. she has always being respectful to you and only occasionally made discrete comments about your relationship with satoru, questioning amusingly how you put up with him. she was obviously no harm, even less to your husband.
perhaps it was your primal instincts that were responsible of your disapproval of them going out so much. you weren't exactly the jealous type. okay, maybe you were fussing too much over this situation.
the tv show actually completed its purpose and distracted you effectively. your mind now wondering how the main character was going to open up his own jazz club.
the door opening startled you slightly, turning your head immediately to see the person you had been missing the whole evening. satoru kicked off his shoes at the entrance as he stepped closer to you, a hand running through his snowy hair and taking off his rectangular glasses.
"oh baby, you should have seen utahime! she is so bad at playing baseball even though she's a fan of it!"
what a fucking dumbass. your eyes full of love threatened to turn wicked at such comment. so he went to play baseball with her?! it wasn't work-related?!
"what do you mean, satoru?" your tone wasn't the kindest. "I thought you went out to talk over the final details about the exchange event."
"oh, that," satoru was now aware of your little irritation, your evident pitch of voice made sure of that. "yeah it is very important for the event, baby!"
"how so?" exasperation was written all over your face, making story wince a bit. you lifted yourself up from the couch to face him.
"do you really want me to tell you? I mean, I wanted it to be a surprise for the studen—"
"what could possibly be a surprise, satoru?!" you snapped. the first two thirds of his sentence infuriated you so much you didn't even listen to his last words. "you going out three times with utahime this week was definitely a suprise for me."
his baby blue eyes were as wide as plates. he didn't expect you to yell at him over this. and for some reason, he felt himself warmer.
"and, and now—" red was coating your face, endless frustration ready to be busted in forms of hurtful words and angry glances. "and now you're telling me you were playing baseball with her?! and expect me to be all okay with that? what kind of work-related stuff requires two coworkers to go out and play baseball alone?"
satoru was in a state of awe at first, his face displaying the shock your exposed irritation caused him. but his bad habit of fixing situations with comedy and witty remarks had entered the scene. it would have normally calmed you down, if it wasn't for the pent up frustration that was on the picture.
"oh~ so you were jelly~?" he sent you a wink, his lanky body getting closer to yours by instinct. "don't worry baby. I have eyes only for yo—" wrong move.
"how could you joke about this, satoru?!" your loud words stirred something inside him, something that should not be stirred nor awaken during these moments. "im here trying to tell you how I feel and you just— you just joke arou—" your words were fading away in his hearing. your red face and glassy eyes only on his mind. oh how pretty you looked when you were angry, especially when you were yelling at him. a wicked part of satoru was glad your undivided attention was on him, even if it was you snapping at him. your overly licked lips were moving furiously as you cried out your thoughts.
"and now you are spacing out!" you snapped your fingers in front of him. satoru's mind went back to the scenario occurring in the living room.
"baby, you have literally nothing to worry abo—"
"stop talking and let me finish."
oh no. he loved you and hated you for that. satoru fell in love hard for your personality, admiring how you never left anyone cut your words. you always stood for yourself, shouting your thoughts in a confident voice. and in a world still ruled by men such as the sorcery world, that was very hard to achieve. but oh how he hated that exact same admiration for your courage became warm enthusiasm—lust—in a couple of seconds. your sharp tone kindled his core, feeling his pants a bit tighter in the front.
not now please... he cursed in the back of his head. you were already cooking him, a visible boner would be the death for him. a reasonable motive to make him sleep in the couch and put him in a sex—or even touch, if you were feeling sinister—ban.
"i don't like it when you joke when I tell you about my feelings," there it was again, that stern voice he loved so much, though he cursed it at the moment. "I also don't like it when you go out too much with utahime."
if you only knew you were making him hard as hell from yelling at him you wouldn't even have to worry about his female friends.
"is that understood, satoru?" you lifted one single finger to emphasize your point even more. that little habit of yours, along with placing a hand on your hip and slightly wobbling your head, was going to be his final straw.
"yeah, of course baby." he breathed, sending you an apologetic look. "can we go to bed, already? I need cuddles."
you shot him an unamused glare. uh maybe you weren't done. satoru could feel his hot skin sticking to his clothes thanks to his sweat. you held so much power over the strongest.
"why were you playing baseball with her?"
"baby it wasn't anything of the sort!" he said agitated. "you know that after the group combat usually comes the individual combats, and I just know yuji will be in danger," you nodded at his words. that was true. satoru had told you a few days before he suspected of someone plotting against the young sorcerer. "so I wanted to change the routine and make it about something fun, you know? something harmless, like some sport the kids will enjoy."
your heart actually softened at his explanation. satoru's priorities embraced the security of the youth, especially that of the newest first-year student, which was often at jeopardy.
however, that explained nothing.
"what does that have to do with you going out with—"
satoru cut your words, and flinched slightly at the way your eyes narrowed and your brow curled up. "I couldn't come up with something myself, so I asked nanami and utahime to go out to play a sport they liked. of course I couldn't tell them what I was plotting," his hands motioned to himself. "nanami took me to bowling, I liked it, but then I thought it wouldn't be a good idea especially for yuji and maki, you know how they are." you nodded. "and then utahime took me to a baseball simulator, and it was all perfect!" he said enthusiastically, lifting his long arms in victory. he was feeling so hot his forehead was shining with sweat. it was becoming harder and harder to contain his boner. the last thing he wanted was to nut mid-explanation.
you widened your eyes in both wonder and confusion.
"no! i mean—," he panicked "it was all perfect because the game was perfect for the kids. not that it was perfect to go out with her!" your husband tried to save himself.
an unannounced sighed left your lips. you were still glaring at him, and even though satoru was a foot taller than you, you were making him a bit too much nervous.
—that and the fact that his stiff boner was still present, only softening lightly when he panicked at your misunderstanding. his little friend was eager for you to yell at him as well.
"am i forgiven now?" he battled his long white lashes to you, giving you the babiest of looks, deeply hoping you would end this silly discussion and take care of him.
"mmm..." a finger rubbed your chin as you pondered about it. "I don't know, satoru," he deflated in front of you. "why didn't you ask me for help? you know I like sports too."
"of course I thought about you, pookie! you were the first person I considered" a pout adorned his pretty face as his long arms attempted to hug you, only for you to step back. "please don't do that, im gonna start crying."
"answer the question satoru."
"it's just that you were so busy with work I genuinely didn't want to disturb you more."
it was true. even though you were not a teacher at the school, the exchange event also demanded you of your time, your main concerns being completing and getting the arrangements ready, especially with the higher ups—the part satoru disliked the most—, and making the them believe sukuna's vessel was still dead.
"but it could have been just a simple question, satoru." there you were again with that rigid tone of yours. haven't you noticed satoru is all red faced and his cock is starting to ache? of course not, because you hate him, right?
"I know baby~" a whine left his mouth, eyes pleading you two could just cuddle and maybe, just maybe, you could stroke him a bit. "but you were very, very, very stressed, I really didn't want to put another burden on you. you would often come very tense after a meeting with the higher ups."
you huffed. well, you guessed you could give that to satoru. but it still hurt he didn't even ask you the simple question, or even explaining to you his little plan. he was certain you wouldn't object.
"okay, satoru," the tall man's ears spiked at your words. ready to say yes to your proposal to cuddling. "I still need some time to cool down. so I'll go to bed." your feet dragged you to the hallway after you turned off the tv, satoru following you behind. "no," you lifted your palm toward him, stopping him. "you sleep in the couch."
"but whyyy?"
"because you didn't tell me sooner about all this! and because im still mad at you."
satoru let out a dramatic puff, blowing raspberries. he grabbed quickly his things and prepared himself for a lonely night. the disappointment from not sleeping next to you dissipated his boner.
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the next day you actually didn't see each other until night. satoru had to attend a clan meeting while you met with the directors of both sorcery schools to go over all the remaining affairs.
exhaustion drew all over your face as you entered your house, a recently cooked meal aroma invading your nostrils. your feet pulled you toward the exquisite scent with little resistance. the view of your tall husband hovering over the stove welcomed you.
"hey pookie boo," satoru said excitedly as he stirred whatever he was making. tapping the utensil away before invading your personal space. "how was your meeting with the directors? they weren't rude to you, were they?" he smiled as he enveloped you in a affective hug. you hadn't forgotten about his little game from last night, but you would be lying to yourself if you admit you hadn't missed his warmth.
"it was fine, very tiring," you looked at him with tired eyes, making his heart do several jumps at your cuteness. "they made me go over all the details about the curses they will release, discussing if they were the appropriate levels for the students."
"oh poor you~" he sang. "let me feed you fully and then we can go to bed and have a well deserved sleep," he was trying to get away.
"hey!" you yelped. satoru felt his dick stir and enlarge. "don't think I haven't forgotten about last night," a stern pitch adorned your voice.
"baby, please," he whined, "if you knew what you do to me, you wouldn't be like this," he hinted silently to the ache between his legs. "what do you want me to do to—"
"satoru," a shiver danced along his spine at the sound of his name rolling from your lips. "I want you to only look at me," you don't know what roamed through your being, but a sudden urge of claiming him took over you. your bottled up feelings from last night revealing themselves. perhaps the heat of the moment didn't let you communicate your darkest desires.
your smaller frame was still held captive by his heavy arms. you lifted your arms to surround his neck, bringing him closer to you, chest to chest. satoru left you handle him as you pleased. he caressed your waist as you stared up at him, darkness painting itself over your irises, your gloomy gaze contributing to the tightening feeling of his pants, his present hard-on sharpening his breathing.
"i want your to only look at me," a twitch inside his pants.
"i want you to give me your full attention," a throb.
"i want you to only think of me," a pulse.
"you are mine, satoru, and as far as I know, im yours. so don't you ever forget that." the white haired sorcerer could bet his underwear was damp from his leaking. why were you like this?
you nuzzled your nose against his, before giving his lips a chaste kiss. "baby you are so hot when you are toxic like that." you chuckled lightly at his words, brushing your fingers along the short hairs of his undercut. you swear you could hear him purr.
"toru don't romanticize this side of me or I'll be more toxic than the elephant's foot." satoru gave your butt a little squeeze before bringing one hand up to play with your cheek, squeezing it as well, before leaving a soft peck on it. his lips then moved to yours, sharing a long and passionate kiss with you. oh how much he missed your touch.
"baby would you get mad at me if I tell you I was hard as a rock when you were yelling at me last night? no one has that power over me."
"what"
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crownofgildedlilies · 1 month ago
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gingerbread house
pairing: bakugou x reader summary: Delicate gingerbread and a hot temper? Katsuki’s in trouble.  wc: 1.2k event masterlist
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You knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to date Katsuki Bakugou. 
He was loud and abrasive, barreling ahead when he thought he was right and even though he often was, he struggled in admitting when he was wrong. He could take things too far sometimes, biting words digging deeper than he had originally meant for them to, but he was working on getting better at expressing himself. 
He was working on it. Slowly.
“I’m gonna blow this shit up, I swear.” 
“Katsuki,” You groaned, grin toying at your lips as you watched your boyfriend’s frustration bubble up over something that was supposed to be fun. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
Not sparing you a glance, he let out a huff you knew meant he disagreed. 
If you had known he would have gotten so stressed over simply building a gingerbread house with you, you wouldn’t have suggested it. 
“You wanna do this? I’m gonna do it right, for you.” He grumbled, hands practically twitching as he struggled not to demolish the delicate gingerbread that seemed to be the source of all his frustration. 
“That’s actually romantic, Kats.” You teased, propping your chin on your hand to watch him work. The rest of the common area was surprisingly empty, everyone either lounging in their rooms or escaping Katsuki’s anger by running last minute errands. 
You couldn’t blame them. 
“Tch,” He kissed his teeth in annoyance, but you knew him well enough to realize he wasn’t annoyed with you. Now, the gingerbread house that kept falling apart each time he tried to get it to stick together wasn’t quite so lucky. “I’m always romantic.” 
And he was, in his own gruff way you adored, but the comment was downright laughable to an outside perspective—especially as he glared at the mess of a gingerbread house he couldn’t get to stand up on the table between the two of you. 
“It’d be so romantic of you to let me help you,” You flashed him a grin, trying to convince him to do something you knew he was too stubborn to do. And as expected, he let out a grunt of annoyance before pinning you with a glare.
“You saying I can’t do it?” His rough voice accused you of what was considered a deadly sin in your relationship—telling Katsuki he wasn’t able to do something. His hands left the three gingerbread walls he managed to prop up together to pin you with a glare, red eyes narrowed in your direction as if he was just waiting for you to doubt his ability. 
Slowly, the gingerbread house slid apart, dropping onto the plate with a thud that seemed so much louder than it really was. 
Slapping your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing, but the damage was already done. Katsuki’s jaw clenched so hard you could have sworn you heard his teeth crack, face turning red with anger. He always made a conscious effort not to yell at you, but you could see just how thin the control on his temper was getting. 
“Don’t say a word.” He grit out through his teeth, and though your hand was still clamped over your mouth to keep from laughing at the horrible timing of the gingerbread house collapsing, you nodded your head. 
His hands were gripping the edges of the table as he alternated his glare between the uncooperative gingerbread house and where you sat beside him. Deciding the biggest risk of you laughing had passed, you moved the hand from over your mouth to grab Katuski’s wrist. You felt how tense he was, and part of you distantly worried about the possibility of him setting off his quirk and damaging the table. 
Mr. Aizawa would kill you. 
“I’m not going to say anything,” You started, still unable to smooth your lips into a flat line and erase your amused smile. Katsuki was frustrated, and you laughing about his struggle—with a gingerbread house—wasn’t going to make things better. “But please let me help? They’re a pain, and this frosting is a little too runny. It makes it hard to stick.”
He was silent, at first. Blowing out a puff of air and turning his head to the side so that you couldn’t see his face. Under your touch, you felt the tension in his wrist increase slightly. 
“Wanted to make it for you,” He grumbled out, voice low. If you hadn’t been waiting for him to say anything, you would have missed it. “You know, impress you, and shit.” 
You couldn’t help it anymore. You let out a quiet laugh. 
Katsuki snapped his head in your direction so fast you laughed again, and suddenly the gingerbread house was forgotten and you were the source of all his ire. And though you knew exactly what he was capable of, you met his glare with a bright smile. 
“What’s so funny?” He demanded, clearly grump, and you leaned closer in an attempt to get in his space and try to improve his mood. And maybe tease him a little bit, if you were being honest. 
“You’re trying to impress me?” You asked, smirking. He rolled his eyes, turning away from you again. Laughing softly, you sat up a bit straighter so you could reach his face and turn him by the jaw back to you. “First off, we’ve been dating long enough that you don’t need to do that.”
He scoffed, clearly in disagreement. He really was a romantic. 
“Secondly, you think a gingerbread house is the way to go about impressing me?” You were teasing, but Katsuki’s face tinged the slightest shade of red as he refused to meet your eye. Pushing yourself forward, you kissed him sweetly in an apology for your words. Grinning, you watched as his blush only darkened with your show of affection. 
“Hold the sides,” He ordered and you knew what he meant. Never one to waste time on too many words, Katsuki had a habit of giving the bare minimum of information before launching into a task. 
Following his directions, you held two sides of the gingerbread house upright while Katsuki used the frosting to stick it together. It took a while, but eventually you got all four sides and the roof in place. Sitting back to let the frosting harden, you grinned at the masterpiece you had briefly thought would never have been finished. 
“I’m impressed,” You admitted, snorting a laugh when Katsuki rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “I didn’t think it would make it through your anger.” 
“Brat,” He fired back, though you could see the trace of a smile on the corner of his lips. Grinning, you set your hand over his arm and squeezed it once to placate him. “Said I would build it for you, didn’t I?” 
You hummed, acknowledging that he had kept his word and built the gingerbread house for you. Eyeing the bare cookie walls, you knew what the next step was. And you also knew the gingerbread was far from safe.
“Ready to decorate now?”
For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer.
“Give me the damn candy.” 
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verstappen-cult · 10 months ago
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Hi Gwen, I really like your story. Can I ask for a lestappen x reader where they are going out together (shopping or date). Then when Max and Charles leave them for a bit, someone tries to hit on the reader but she's oblivious about it? Thank you!
“You think this would fit me?” You ask Charles, blue dress in hand. “But I want it in green.” Your boyfriend didn’t even have a chance to answer before you turned around, looking for something else. 
“I like how blue looks on you.” Max says, sitting next to an annoyed Charles. 
You’ve been shopping for the upcoming trip you’ve planned for summer break. They were excited to come with you at first, even though you insisted on going alone, so now they have a choice but to follow you around until you find everything you need. 
“That’s just because blue it’s your team color.” Charles huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “She looks prettier in Ferrari red.”
“Can you stop being so whiny?” Charles sticks his tongue out, leaning against Max. 
“Why don’t we go for something to drink, uh?” Your boyfriend says, wrapping an arm around the Monégasque’s shoulders. “Will you be okay?” 
“Can you get me an Iced Latte, please?” You look at him beneath your lashes as he stands up, dragging Charles with him. 
You decide to try on the blue dress just because Max likes it when you wear blue clothes. On your way to the changing room you spot a red strapless top and you grab it too. Making them happy is that easy. 
In the end, you like both items and there’s no doubt you’ll buy them, but you still want the dress in green. As you get out of the changing room, wanting to ask a saleslady if they have it in other colors, you bump into a young man which causes you to drop the clothes onto the floor. 
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” You’re quick to apologize. The stranger looks up from his cellphone, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. However, once he sees you, his expression relaxes and a smirk appears on his face. 
“Don’t worry. It was my fault, I was looking at my phone.” He crouches down in front of you, picking up the clothes. He scans the items very carefully before giving them back to you. “Good choice.”
“Thank you, I really like them.” You say, happy that someone thinks they’re pretty. Maybe he’ll buy them for his girlfriend too. 
“I’m sure you’ll look hot in that dress.”
You don’t know what to say or how to react. Most times you ignore what men say to you, other times you thank them when they have good intentions or you know they're fans that respect you. But this man doesn't give you good vibes, not with the way he’s smiling at you with his eyes running over every curve in your body. 
He takes a step closer, and you want to throw up. What kind of perfume is he using? 
“You can use it on our date.” He says it with so much confidence you want to laugh in his face, but you don’t do it because that wouldn’t be very wise of you. However, you still hear someone laughing behind you. 
You don’t have to turn around to see who it is, you can recognize that laugh anywhere. 
“Who told you she wants to go out with you?” You feel Max’s warm body behind you, his hand finding your waist in a very possessive way.
Charles keeps laughing, which is drawing the attention of everyone in the shop. 
“I’m sorry,” He says, wiping imaginary tears as he stands next to Max. “Does that really work out for you? Because it’s awful, mate.”
“You should really think about changing the way you approach women.” Max’s voice is dripping with venom, and you instinctively lean closer. 
“Waiting for them outside the changing room, really? Pretending to not see her?” Charles is not laughing anymore, he looks pissed. “She’s taken, by the way.”
The stranger looks between Charles and Max, recognition crossing his features. 
“I’m so sorry!” He apologizes, his whole attitude changing in a minute. “I wouldn’t dream of hitting on your girlfriend. Never.”
Max laughs, but ignores him. “Are you done, schatje?” 
“Yes, but I was trying to ask someone if they have it in green when… well.”
“Let’s go see, then.” Max gives you a pat on your ass, making you giggle and walk away from the still very shocked guy. 
“Oh,” Charles says, making you and Max turn around to see what’s happening. He’s a few feet away from the stranger, walking in your direction but looking at the man standing right where you left him. “Think about changing your perfume too. You stink.”
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hawkinsbnbg · 4 months ago
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Steve was a late bloomer. He didn't expect to present as an omega right after seeing a bloody Eddie Munson into the ER.
His biological changes weren't a problem at first. He found his perky tits and even newly-slit cunt easily acceptable. They just felt right on his body.
His peace only lasted until he visited Eddie in the hospital and slicked his underwear beyond repair.
It was embarrassing and also pathetic because he was quite certain Eddie didn't want him that way.
He knew the alpha just flirted with him for fun like everyone else.
To fix it, Steve began wearing scent blockers religiously, dressing in more layers, and using pads to keep his slick from leaking out and ruining the sterilized air.
So far, it was a success. No one batted an eye when he got a little wet whenever he sat beside Eddie's bed.
Even Robin—his platonic soulmate who had always been in tuned with him—didn't pick up his inappropriate behavior.
As for Eddie, the alpha just became friendlier with him; kissing his hands, giving him more flatteries, hugging him tighter and longer than the others, etc.
Though Steve was flustered by the new development, he reminded himself that it likely meant nothing to Eddie.
Still, he couldn't stop finding excuses to see Eddie nearly every day.
Eventually, Eddie was discharged, went through every PT session with admirable strength and determination, and recovered beautifully.
They held a party to celebrate it and Steve was rosy cheeked with joy when Eddie stuck by his side the whole time. And even followed him everywhere like a lost puppy.
It was cute.
Even though Robin kept saying otherwise.
Eddie seemed to decide they were best friends now. Because wherever Steve went, the alpha would be right beside him.
Steve didn't find it as annoying as he had thought. Since Robin and Vickie were in their moonstruck phase, she couldn't spend as much time with him anymore.
He was happy for her, but it was also kinda lonely. A problem that Eddie's constant presence had quickly resolved.
They would hang out and do everything together; cooking, doing chores, listening to the music, watching movies, getting high, and even sleeping.
It wasn't right for an unmated omega to get so close to an unmated alpha, but their bond ran deeper than their carnal instincts. A few cuddles wouldn't hurt their friendship.
Or so Steve told himself.
Because he had to change his panties at least thrice a night before going to bed to not disturb his friend with his situation.
"Where are you goin'?" Eddie muttered sleepily just as Steve tried to get out the alpha's arms.
On the other hand, his body had been acting weird lately. Producing more slick than usual and becoming more sensitive.
It might be his fault for letting Eddie into his nest all the time, but it wasn't like he could help it, either.
Jesus. Even Eddie's raspy voice already made his cunt pulse with want.
Steve felt thankful that he didn't give up his scent blockers. Otherwise, he'd no doubt smell like a bitch in heat right now.
"Nature's call," Steve mumbled, frowning slightly when Eddie's hold just got tighter around him and the musky scent grew thicker.
"'S your slick, isn't it?" Hot lips pressed to his ear, making him stop cold. "Yeah, I can smell it. Been wanting to taste how sweet you are, omega."
Steve gulped dryly, his brain turned hazier and hazier with lust. And yet...
"W– Why didn't you say anything?"
"And chased you off?" Eddie chuckled and squeezed a hand between his thighs, feeling his wetness and scratching his clit lightly through the cotton. "No way, baby."
Steve closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath, choking on the scent of a very aroused and virile alpha.
He didn't know why his blockers didn't work, but the heat of Eddie's palm on his clothed cunt was distracting enough that he just stopped questioning it altogether.
"Be gentle with me," he craned his neck to meet those dark wild eyes.
"You got it, angel," Eddie rolled him on his back and kissed him sweetly. "Gonna worship your pretty cunt for the rest of my life."
And Eddie did.
Eating him out every given chance and everywhere; on the bed, in the kitchen, in the back of the van, on the couch, in the shower.
And when Steve's heat arrived a few days later, Eddie had happily stayed up all night just to suffocate in the sea of slick before knotting him over and over again in the morning.
Which, consequently, triggered the alpha's rut and led to Steve being kept in bed for another week.
And by the end of it all, he was thoroughly bred and ravaged.
Eventually, Steve figured it out once they became mates. His blockers still worked just fine.
Eddie was the problem.
He was a horn dog who had sniffed out Steve's slick and got addicted to it.
But fortunately, Eddie had agreed to make do with his used panties whenever Steve was too sore to let him near his cunt.
The only problem was that Steve now had to guard his favorite pairs very closely.
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pigeonpeach · 1 year ago
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Genshin men as cats!
Prompt: the genshin men are temporarily turned into cats for one day and you as their lover must take care of them and make sure they stay safe
A/n: idk what happened but apparently half of the post got deleted? I’ll have to rewrite it later ;(
Ayato
Oh he’s not happy. He’s probably a shorthaired white cat in terms of appearance. But he is quite annoyed with this predicament. No one is allowed to tell anyone that the Yashiro Commissioner is suddenly a cat. But being a cat is nice. He can lounge and nap all day. He’s probably demanding of attention though. He simply must have your eyes on him. He adores being brushes so lovingly too. Maybe he should have you brush his hair when he’s back to normal.
Al Haitham
Virtually no change. He may still try to read though he won’t be able to turn the pages as easily. He doesn’t mind a few pats but he mostly prefers to be left alone in the nice warm sun to nap the day away. He’s definitely a grey tabby.
Kaveh
He is so distraught! He meows a storm in fustration as he finds he is completely incapable of finishing his projects! You simply must take care of him! You need to have him strapped in like a baby carrier on your chest because he’s just so clingy. He needs constant reassurance and attention. He’s so needy but so cute. Probably a cute little cream colored kitty.
Kaeya
He is also probably a bit annoyed. While yes he gets a complete day off, he can’t do much as a cat. So he’ll probably try to find some entertainment if you don’t keep him thoroughly entertained. He will find a way to sneak out and go play with Klee or annoy Diluc if you don’t keep him in your grasp at all times.
Neuvillette
He is very confused but also curious. On one hand this form is verrrry different than he’s ever had before but its also very beneficial to him. People are far less intimidated and strangely he enjoys being coddled and pet more than he would. Of course miss Furina is teasing the crap out of him but he doesn’t really care. Sitting on your lap, small and warm. Its such a unique experience he will probably never have again.
Wriothesley
Once the dust settles he’s quite relaxed. This is temporary so might as well enjoy it. Sigewinnie has become very attached to him as she constantly makes sure he’s okay. But in particular he loves being held by you. He’s used to being the big strong man who lifts you all the time etc etc. its nice actually being the reverse here. He gets fed special fish from the cafeteria and gets to spend his day in your arms! The perfect break for him! He’s almost sad it’s temporary but he knows he can’t stay like this forever.
Childe
Oh he’s mad! Even when it’s confirmed to be temporary, he is annoyed! How can he improve his fighting skills if he’s a kitty! Sure he’s a adorable little kitty of course but he looks like a baby! Oh his ego is in shatters. It’s unfortunate too because it wasn’t even around his family so he could play with his little brother at least. He’s practically quarantined to keep him safe. He can’t go on kitty adventures. Therefore YOU must make it up to him. He spends his time sulking and trying to play with anything he can. Dangling uniform piece? New toy! Someone’s foot? New toy! He bites! He meows! He hardly naps. He does love cuddling with you though. Still he’s a ball of energy and he cannot simply sit still for long! No doubt will his office be trashed. You’re making him clean it up once he’s back.
Thoma
Stressed! So stressed! He has so many chores! He cannot hold a broom with two paws! You have to make arrangements for him to have the day off which was hard because everyone was upset by his sudden cancellation. Even so he tries to help. He tries to drag the broom but it doesn’t do anything unfortunately. Oh he feels so useless. You must pamper him. Lavish him with kisses and gentle praise. Call him the cutest little kitty in the world! Oh he’s such a affectionate boy too. He acts like a cat with separation anxiety almost. He cannot sleep if you’re not there with him. Therefore you end up spending the day with him, trying to dissuade him from trying to clean a mess and just making it worse, distracting him with a warm blanket and pets.
Zhongli
He probably did so on purpose actually. Perhaps he was a bit bored and decided to spend the day exploring Liyue from a different perspective. It was quite fun for him actually. He watched as people came over to pet him. Unfortunately they also tried to feed him seafood which wasn’t too good. But after the long day he returned home to see you panicked as to where he could be. He decided to come on over to you, still in his cat form, and distract you. It worked as he helped you relax.
You werent too amused when you found out that cat that broke in was him.
Pantalone
He is quite annoyed. Angry in a more agitated way. Don’t mess up his fur! Pet him properly! Don’t ignore him now! He is a demanding little feline. He is not content unless you are entirely focused on him. He even wants you to break up the fish ro serve to him. He isn’t going to eat like a animal! Oh but he is such s cute kitty. Entirely black with big expressive yellow eyes. Oh you can’t help but comply and spoil him a little more! And he has such lovely fur! He does like hearing your gentle praises as you pet him. He never knew how lovely it felt to be small, sleeping on a nice warm lap, being gently brushed, and told sweet little compliments. He may actually want to do this again sometime.
Diluc
Biggest drama king! How can he protect you or Mondstadt like this! Therefore you cannot leave his sight or he’s convinced you will immediately die. You must stay with him so he can protect you? He is a very warm kitty though so it feels nice to snuggle with him. His fur is a bit messy so you’ll have to brush it. Despite him trying to stay vigilant he ends up falling asleep quickly.
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moonshine-nightlight · 7 months ago
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Voluntary Sacrifice
inspired by this prompt/setup by @snowkissedmonsters as well as their art
The local werebear is in heat and its become a town concern. You, who's always been fascinated by him and doesn't much to lose reputationally, volunteer to help him through it.
If only he believed you were doing so voluntarily, instead of being forced by the council.
Can you convince him of your sincerity before the full moon rises?
Male werebear x human reader, Heat, NSFW
Status: Complete (One-shot)
Length: 12k
AO3: Voluntary Sacrifice
Prompt:
You live in a human town in a fantasy world. In recent history, werecreatures enlisted to fight alongside humans throughout a bitter war in the territory. The result of that alliance is a (sometimes tense) tolerance between these two species who generally do not get along.
In the wilderness near your town, a werebear veteran has made his home. Bearish in appearance and manner, he vastly prefers solitude and is actively hostile to visitors. Sometimes he comes into town to sell meat and pelts from his hunts. The other humans are frightened, but you find him fascinating and peculiarly handsome.
A slew of livestock deaths precede an emergency town meeting. There's no question who the culprit is, or why. The town elders understand that a werecreature in heat is aggressive and dangerous. The town's interspecies liason officer, a veteran who fought beside the werebear, explains that it's not a deliberate attack on the town's livelihood, but even so, the maulings cannot continue. It may only be a matter of time before a human is injured.
The liason suggests hiring one of the workers at the town brothel to act as a "heat soother," but the brothel workers don't want the job. There's still a stigma over non-human creatures. The werebear is dangerous, violent, monstrous. Who knows if a human mate would even survive.
Tentatively, you volunteer for the role. You have no living family that could be shamed, you're naturally infertile so there's no concern over cubs, and... Well. You like the idea of it, though you keep that last point to yourself.
You are escorted to the werebears cabin by the eager liason officer, who's just glad the precarious human-werebeast alliance is no longer in jeopardy. Answering the door, the werebear looks surprised to see the two of you...
Then annoyed.
I told you, he growls at the liason, I will not take a forced mate.
The officer coos and assures the bear that you are here voluntarily, which he seems to doubt very much. He throws you both out of his cabin and slams the door.
/
“Good luck!”
You stare after Anton, the liaison officer, as he rides away, at a complete loss of what to do now. You’ve felt a headrush of sorts, like sliding down a hill in winter, since you first resolved to volunteer to help Temar and his slamming of the door in your face was an abrupt stop before you even reached the bottom. You cross your arms, telling yourself its because of the mild chill, not out of anxiety or embarrassment.
But you are, so so embarrassed. You don’t know exactly what you thought his reaction to you might be, but stonewalled indifference and complete refusal to even entertain the idea of mating with you wasn’t one of them. Heat licks at your cheeks from the way he’d looked at you, his lip curled in a snarl, something more than even just annoyance in his eyes. You’d felt the urge to shrink right then and there and only surprise kept you frozen upright.
You know you weren’t as young as the other unaffiliated women in town, weren’t as pretty, weren’t as agreeable, but surely he couldn’t smell your infertility or whatever made you feel so out of place with everyone else. What about you had been so offputting he’d not even considered you for a mate? You’d almost hoped that whatever made you so unappealing as a human mate might make you more appealing to a werebear. So much for that.
You’re not one for much dignity as it is, no one to stand on high graces, and you try not to let others’ opinions bother you, beyond where they interfere with your own ability to make your living. But even you can’t bring yourself to try to convince him to mate with you when he so clearly has absolutely no interest. Did you sacrifice what little standing you did have a reasonable and respectable person by volunteering for this only to not even be able to manage it? Was it for nothing?
You had only found the courage to approach him because of the surface-level reason of slaughtered livestock and fear for a person’s injury, but now, now you felt almost responsible for not being able to prevent such an occurrence. All because Temar found you unappealing.
You can’t leave without even saying more than a hasty word to him though. Maybe there’s some other way you can help. You’ve wanted an excuse to get to know him better for years, since you first saw him. Even before that, when someone stopped by your shop with some of the pelts they’d bought from him.
Beyond his attractive appearance being more than enough to draw your attention, he’s lived such an interesting life. The liaison was liberal with his stories and his own accomplishments in the war, but he never short-changed his friend. You also found the stories of people who have crossed him or questioned him entertaining more than scary. His refusal to play along with the petty etiquette of the town was funny, as were people’s puffed up reactions. Perhaps you should have expected this reaction after all, maybe he just doesn’t like humans.
The thought against brings embarrassed heat to your face once more as you remember how he’d looked in the doorway. His beard and mustache, short but full, the scar across his nose, those dark brown eyes. His hair was shaved on both sides, but long in the middle, pulled back into a loose bun and peppered with gray like his beard. Tall as you remember, but stockier—his frame particularly broad in the narrow doorway. You’d always found him especially handsome. There was no question what sort of were he was.
Before today, the closest you’d been was at the general store, behind him line for some flour, putting to rest the rumors that werecreatures only ate meat. His presence had fascinated you, large but contained. Wild but settled. Immovable, but not aggressive. Deliberate. You’d found your mind drifting to thoughts of him that night. Your mind liked to turn the idea of him over, half speculation, half pieced together clues from overheard gossip. When you were particularly lonely or even just particularly cold, it was comforting to know he was on his own too. He seemed to prefer it even. You preferred your solitude most of the time as well—half caught between feeling like an outsider for the inclination, half relieved since that’s where you ended up. You wouldn’t mind another friend who felt so, a bit of company you didn’t need to perform in front of. And it would be nice, to be useful to someone else who had no one.
You know he needs help now, more than ever. The liaison had assured them at the meeting that Temar was making every attempt to contain himself. Which reassured you that you’d not missed a callous trend in his nature, but also made you want to help more—not help with the abstract problem, but help him. The next best solution that had been discussed—and would likely need to be implemented now that it turned out you’d failed, you realize with a sinking heart—was to institute a town wide curfew until this ran its course. But maybe there is still some way you can aid him, even if not by soothing his heat directly.
You stand up straight, pushing off the railing you’d been leaning against, and resolve to at least try to talk to him. After all, you understood his continued solitude, but it felt silly during the meeting, that he wasn’t there to lend his own input. Surely he had the most insight into his situation. He must know what he needed. You raise you hand to knock on the door when it opens before you even get the chance.
“If you ain’t gonna have the sense leave, then get in,” a gruff voice orders.
Your feet are moving before you fully register the words. Relief floods your veins. Well, that was easier than you expected. Perhaps things were turning around.
/
They were not. Any hope you had for some softening of his attitude was quickly dashed.
It had seemed promising: the smell of cooking food, the heat that filled the main room from the large fire, the sound of crackling logs. All ease some of the tension in your bones immediately—not to mention that same deliberate air Temar had, the one that made you feel steady and safe. Safe enough to want what you want, without your usual instinct to hide such thoughts and feelings until you were alone lest others use them to hurt you.
You try to focus on the room itself, from the handmade furniture—you’d have recognized Ben’s work if it was—to the scant decoration. The cabin was simple, unadorned, but solid. It suited him. It made the few personal items he had stick out all the more. The large blanket and rug to make the room feel lived in. The well-cared for hunting gear in the corner. The collection of copper kitchenware, clearly used often.
Nearly as soon as you finished your preliminary survey of his home, he makes it very clear he still did not want you. “No notion of what’s going on in that fool Anton’s head, leaving you on my porch like bottles of milk,” he sighs, looking disgruntled and you fight the urge to apologize. He tucks a strand of hair that escaped his bun behind his ear and your fingers itch to do the same. You clench them tighter behind you, upset at how wild your thoughts are in the face of his rejection. “Fess up, what did they tell you? I don’t know what those old fearmongers at the counsel did to make you come here, but I’ll not hold it against you—only them.”
You tilt your head as you watch him pace over the fire, trying to keep your eyes on his head, not how well he fills out his trousers. You realize belatedly that you must still need to clarify. “There was a town meeting, but I volunteered, like Anton said,” you reply tentatively. He’d heard what his friend said. Right? Maybe that was why he’d refused? Not because he found you so abhorrent.
Temar scoffs. “Anton wouldn’t recognize subtle coercion if it stabbed him the back.”
You frown, starting to get a little frustrated with his seeming inability to hear you properly. “Be that as it may, I can. It’s the truth.”
Temar raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Right,” he says flatly. “Just like five years ago, when I moved here and Miss Ketevan was left on my doorstop around harvest time. She just wanted to offer some apples before high tailing it out of there once her grandfather was out-of-sight. Must have been crying and yelling for some other reason.”
Your frown deepens. The last of your family had died around then and you’d not joined a town meeting for a full year, plenty busy with grief and figuring out how to run the dye shop without any guidance. Keti was a younger than you but had a reputation as a troublemaker so she had been in the gossip plenty. Her grandfather, Carlos, was on the counsel and had seemed to consider her something of an embarrassment.
You thought she’d run off with the milkmaid, not because she was a failed sacrifice to the new werebear neighbor. It does throw into relief some other statements at the meeting. Like Anton’s emphasis on volunteers as he’d stared Carlos’ down, which had led to no one but you speaking up—not even the brothel workers. They’d not said but you knew they feared clients shunning whoever they sent, let alone however they felt about the stigma and fear associated with werecreatures.
 “I have no idea what did or did not happen five years ago, I wasn’t at any of those meetings nor at your house,” you say with a shrug. “Keti’s moved to the other side of the river, according to her sister, and is quite satisfied there. None of which was brought up at the meeting today.”
“What do they have on you?” Temar asks, squatting to stoke the fire, as if you just didn’t want to tell the truth his face. Ignoring everything you were saying while still trying to get answers from you. You liked tell about how stubborn he was in gossip. You liked it less at this moment. “If I can aid you and you can go on home, you’re welcome to ask.”
“They don’t have anything on me,” you reply slowly, trying to match his even tone so he doesn’t think your lying. The embarrassment that comes with volunteering so plainly to mate with him comes and goes in waves, but having to repeat it to him is a different flavor all together. “I am here of my own free will.”
Temar scoffs and huffs. “If you don’t want to tell me then fine.” He heaves himself back to his feet and peers out the window. “Sun’s going down. You can stay here for dinner and for the night. That better satisfy them, because you’re leaving first light in the morning.”
You turn away from his back, staring blindly at the countertop covered in ingredients for dinner. The one you interrupted with this piss-poor intrusion. He was likely just trying to give you an out, an excuse to save some dignity. You should’ve known you’d have no skill at seduction, not that you’d believed you’d need it. You’d hoped he be satisfied enough, in need enough that you’d suffice by being willing and not unattractive. Or so you thought. How pathetic. “I just wanted to help,” you say softly, more to yourself than him.
You sigh before walking over to the counter and picking up a knife. “Thank you for your hospitality,” you manage, your voice stiff with discomfort, but unwilling to completely give up yet. “Allow me to assist with the food.”
Dinner preparation is tense, quiet, but a relatively smooth affair. Temar’s already got the chicken dumplings nearly done so you leave that to him and handle the rest.
He only speaks to point you toward where things are when you ask. You’re happy he’s letting you do this much as you’ve more than got the message he’d prefer to do it all alone. You try to concentrate hard enough not to think about anything else.
“These dumplings are delicious,” you say belatedly, after you’ve already scarfed down two of them. They really are, hot and flavorful.
Temar grunts in response and you can’t help but pout, wondering if he thinks everything you say is a lie. You try at some other small talk, but nothing gets more than a yes or no out of him—after the first few, he just makes some vague noise of acknowledgment as he steadily eats through three times the portion of food you got, which had been more than generous. You’d been skeptical of how much he was making until you’d seen how much he was eating.
Did he also have to eat more before winter, like a normal bear? Was he going to sleep through it too? You swear he still came in with pelts, but you don’t really know. You’re more than aware that he’s not likely to give a straight answer if you ask. You ask anyway.
He gives you a look like you’re touched in the head. “No, I don’t hibernate. I stay in more, sleep more since its dark more, but I’m not actually a bear.”
“I know!” you protest, blushing, “but I’ve heard there’s overlap of some kind, forgive me for not being an expert. You’re the only werebear I know by name.”
“You know nothing,” he retorts, words finally bursting from him in a fit of frustration. You’re taken aback, but eager for any information given his recent impression of a clam. “You say you volunteer and yet you don’t know the first thing about werebears, let alone heats. You expect me to think you know what you’re saying you got yourself into when its clear no one explained anything.”
“Well, then you tell me,” you bat back, fed up by now with being treated as a criminal for even entertaining the notion you might be a suitable mate for him. “And don’t act like you wouldn’t have called me a liar even if I’d written a book on werebears and their heats.”
As his way seems to be, he ignores you to keep focus on whatever incorrect train of thought he has stuck in his head. “Even if you’re ignorant, didn’t your family object? Doesn’t someone have sense or self-preservation?”
You glare. Of all the—. “No—” you reply hotly before he cuts in.
“I thought that was something y’all paid attention to,” he drawls, waving with his fork. “ Fraternizing with the werecreatures is still a no-no right?” He leans forward, eyes bright, like a predator finally spotting their prey. “Is it them that the council is leaning on?”
Unfortunately for him, its a false sighting. “Don’t have any,” you reply bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest. “They died. About five years ago.”
You wonder if he’ll make the connection and to your surprise, he seems to as his brow furrows. “I see.” He leans back in his chair as if surrpised to notice he’d moved at all.
“Besides, I’m grown,” you’re annoyed you even have to remind him. He’s treating you like a child, ignoring you, calling you ignorant, making you out as a liar. Like a fool. You’ve long resolved not to let anyone treat you like a fool. “I make my own choices.”
He scoffs in that same manner that’s truly getting under your skin. “Right. How could I forget.”
“I don’t know,” your voice is sharper than its been all evening. “Seeing as I keep reminding you.”
Discomfort creeps into his frame and he looks down at his plate to mutter, “What even made them come up with this plan? Was this Anton’s idea?” He warms up to this new wrong idea—it was Jessaly on the council who had mentioned “heat soothers” seconded by Carlos. Anton only stepped in to mention volunteers. “Because if so, I’ll be having words with him next chance I get, strong words. I anticipated an order to leave town or to be taken to jail or a fight. I’m surprised the council even risked the chance for cubs.”
That last part completely derails you from your planned support for Anton. “Oh,” you can dismiss that concern easy, so you don’t hesitate to, “I can’t have children.”
That stops him completely, freezes him in his chair. “What?”
His reaction surprises you. “I thought…” You thought he could smell the infertility on you. You thought that was part of why he’d refused, like the others. If he couldn’t tell, you still didn’t think he’d have a reaction like this, like everyone else. “I can’t. My monthlies stopped only a few years in and a doctor confirmed the nature of the issue. It’s noted in the records because my engagement to—” You don’t even want to say his name, for all you don’t blame your former fiance. You hadn’t even been that excited about the marriage, but the reality of no marriage ever, well, that had been more of blow the coming years dealt to you. You manage a shaky smile. “No risk of children with me.”
You meet his eyes valiantly and he stares back. You hope you’re right when you don’t see any blooming realization that you’re broken, that you’re any more undesirable, but you’ve long given up trying to tell. Still his focus makes you babble, “I don’t want children anyway.” That at least is the truth and the reminder steadies you. You thought you’d gotten over the worst of this self-recrimination years ago. You were happy not to have that burden, that expectation, that danger in your life. You just want Temar to think well of you, and this always changes how people perceive you, no matter how much you wish it didn’t. That is what truly gets under your skin. Your shoulders drop some tension as your smile softens, becomes more genuine. “Better me than someone who did. It worked out for the best that way.”
If only it meant no partner, no chance for sex beyond work at the brothel—which you were not interested in despite them asking—or  visiting one, which you have in years past. Or the affairs some of the less reputable had tried for in the past. They always made it clear in the end, even if you were alright with the infidelity—it was only because you were ‘safe’ that they wanted you.
“Neither do I,” he says, causing you to look up at him. His expression turns defensive as he clarifies, “That doesn’t mean anything anyways. Still the most foolish idea I ever heard.” He stands up abruptly to refill his plate with a fourth helping.
You eat the remainder of the meal in silence.
Finally, your plate is clean and your belly is full. You manage to take Temar by surprise by snatching up his plate in addition to yours, bringing them over to the wash basin before he could do some himself. You’re determined to do something useful while you’re here and he’s feeding you.
Maybe all lack of eye contact was for him and not you. Maybe you’ll have better luck staring at the water. “So, is there anything you’ll actually let me do to help?”
Another huff, almost a growl of frustration, and Temar replies, grit in his tone, “I told you I ain’t taking a mate just because the town’s made my heat their business this year.”
You don’t even bother arguing the point again and consider his words. You hadn’t thought about other years. There’d never been notice of it so you assumed it wasn’t actually an annual event. What made this year so different? Instead of asking, you return his own volley. “I heard you. I didn’t mean that, though I must mention that the town is only involved because it has become their business this year.”
Temar doesn’t answer, but you can feel his gaze on your back. Being the focus of his attention is electrifying. “Other than having a mate,” you remind yourself outloud. “Are there other things that I can help with? Measures to be taken, information to be shared. Anything?”
There’s silence behind you before he stands up from the table, the scrape of his chair loud. You hope to the gods he’s actually doing something, thought of something in response to your question rather than just leaving. Although technically, you suppose, that would also be a response to your question.
You methodically scrub the dishes while you listen to him move about the main room of the cabin. He sits back down at the table, bringing something with him. You can’t dry this tankard any more thoroughly so you turn around to see if he’s simply ignoring you or not.
He’s bent over something on the table, a piece of paper? You frown and walk over to get a closer look. As if he can sense you, once you’re close enough he points one thick finger at the paper. “Who’s land is this?”
You frown as you study what you realize is a map of the town. Unlike most you’ve seen, it doesn’t have roads or even real buildings on it. Abstract symbols represent structures—you think—and the town center and main street buildings are one big marker. Nothing indicated for individual stores. It takes another minute to realize the outlined shapes covering the map are the property lines, not buildings, roads, or rivers, though some overlap with where you know those to be. Leave it to a werebear to have a map of the town by territory.
“If you don’t know—” he says, huffing per usual.
“Apologies if I need more than a minute,” you huff back, more than fed up and far more assured after the time spent with him that he has no plans to kick you out tonight. “I’ve never seen a map like this.”
He quiets down and you manage to follow your memory of the road out to… “The Meskal’s Farm, Evanna and Leon.” You also manage to make the connection, although you’re not sure he meant for you to. They’d been the most recent farm that had suffered from slaughtered livestock.
Temar brings over a slate with some notes in chalk already written out. He’s got shorthand notes, similar to those on the map, but all unlike any you’ve seen before. He jots down what must be their name above some already existing notes. You squint, trying to make sense of the letters and numbers. “Two ewes and one lamb,” you correct, hoping you decoded right.
He freezes and you hold your breath for annoyance or anger, but instead he merely erases one number and writes in another. “I assume this was discussed with the council?”
“Yeah,” you see no reason to beat around the bush. As you continue to squint at his notes, leaning over his broad shoulder to see better. “The Oche’s steer had to be put down, but they salvaged the meat. Anton reassured them it was edible and bought some himself so the rest of the town followed suit.”
“Still, I’ll be paying my debt, it just might take some time,” Temar replies gravely. “I’ll not have anyone say I don’t pay what I owe or think I don’t owe it, like some uncivilized beast.”
“I can pass that along,” you offer, still reaching for some way to contribute, to help. His integrity touches your heart, makes that urge to give aid stronger. Anton had something vague to the affect, but the town had little confidence in Anton’s assurances. You have confidence in Temar’s.
“I would appreciate that,” he sounds a little belligerent, a little abashed.
You smile, happy to have found anything useful to do and lean in again, to study his map more closely. You mentally map out the other families who had damage and notice they’re all in a line from his property west and against the forest. He does seem to be attempting to keep to limited area. How much control does he have? Could you help corral him somehow?
You reach to point. “Is this the river or—” You start to lose you balance from the awkward angle you’re at. Your other hand reaches for the next closest thing to steady yourself—Temar’s shoulder.
Next thing you know you’re knocking into the table and he’s standing several feet away, a snarl on his face. “Don’t.”
You’re stricken by the vehemence from a such a small, almost-touch of his person. It had been too easy to forget he disliked you so, is so offended by your very presence. “I’m sorry!” It’s as if he thinks you were attempting to trick him. You hasten to clarify, hands raised in surrender. “I wasn’t trying—”
Temar leaves the room before you even finish speaking.
/
Temar braces himself before he goes back in the main room, his forehead pressed against the solid wood of his walls.
He’s hoping he’s gotten used to your scent, built up a tolerance, but knows it’ll only have gotten stronger for each moment you’ve been here. Gods know he’s only become more susceptible to it. How anyone in all his life has such a bewitching scent, he’ll never know.
The second he’d opened his front door, he’d wanted to drag you inside and never let you out. The beast inside instantly proclaiming Mine. Only mine. He’d barely heard anything Anton said over the roaring in his ears. The slam of his door had been as much panic defensiveness as it had been frustrated aggression.
The line between those two does seem to blur most during heat.
You stayed out there, looking so lost and somber on the porch, lip caught between your teeth as you thought. He’d had to get you to stop before he took over the task for you. An early sign of heat madness surely because of fucking course it was far worse having you in his home. Where his beast said you belonged. Where you could say all the words he was salivating to hear as truth even though he knew them to be false.
Those council assholes would pay for putting him through this torture. Temar knew he was a werebeast and yet this was inhumane even for his kind. He tried to find a proper target for his aggression, but you’d given him nothing to work with, persistent in your tale. As if a kind, quick-witted, pretty thing like you would ever subject yourself to a beast like him unless you felt you had no other option.
Distractions haven’t been helping, trying to keep his eyes off you was impossible to sustain, and stonewalling didn’t ever seem to deter you for long. It’s as if you were perfectly designed to get past all of his defenses. There are still so many hours until sunrise—if Temar’s even going to last that long, even be able to let you go at that point. After you’d seeped into his home, his life. You seem to fit so well.
You play at being kind like a master actor and he hopes that’s not all a front. You’re smart, independent, but oh so willing to help. Duress, he reminds himself, you’re here under duress. The fuckers in town must have forced you here somehow. He can’t believe how low they’ve stooped, taking advantage of your lack of family, of your infertility to make you into a sacrifice. The perfect sacrifice.
His beast still wants to try to breed you, undeterred by logic, but it’s his human head that’s unfairly tempted by the knowledge. When he’s in his rational mind, he stands by what he said. The risk of children, others with his condition, his ostracization from society is something he’d never condemn an innocent soul to suffer. Not mention he likes his solitude, likes only being responsible for himself and only answerable to himself. It’s why the council involving itself is so frustrating. Its why the idea you might be here of your own free will is so appealing. Lack of such a child-bearing risk is even more appealing, more alluring than he’d ever realized it would be. Than it had any right to be. Why are you so damn perfect for him?
Clearly distance was not helping. Perhaps it was even making his beast stronger, without you to look at him and, for all your knowledge of his nature, expect a rationale man to look back.
Temar walks back into the main room, feeling like a man condemned, only to immediately regret his choice as he rigidly locks every muscle he can to prevent his beast from pouncing. He’d thought you’d stopped trying to seduce him with your faux willingness and pretty eyes. Your soft, steady kindness…
Even he’d admitted to himself once alone that you likely hadn’t meant anything by hovering so close, by trying to steady yourself on him. Your fall onto the table, not to mention the complete startlement on your face from his reaction. But what the fuck is this?
“What are you doing?” he asks through clenched teeth, hoping the beast inside isn’t giving away the feral lust coursing through his veins.
“What?” You look up, surprised he’s back, but there’s no embarrassment in your face. If anything, your expression smooths back to usual faster than he feels it has a right to. “Oh, I hadn’t realized how wet my apron had gotten from the dishes, sorry about the wasted water.”
“Why have you removed it?” Temar’s voice was strangled as the words passed through his lips. Ordinarily, he knows it would barely register with him, but you removing any article of clothing has his beast pulling at the chains he’s trying to use to keep it inside where it belongs.
“Well, I didn’t know how else to dry off,” you reply, brow furrowing in confusion as you dab at yourself with part of the folded-up apron. Temar can see the damp stains where the water had soaked through the light green fabric underneath. “Besides, I don’t want to catch anything, sitting around in wet clothes. It’ll be dry by morning if I leave it by the fire.”
Temar’s mind is already overrun by the reminder he’d invited you, like the numbskull he is, to stay the night. You’re unlikely to sleep fully dressed. You’ll take more than just your apron off in his home. You’ll strip down to your chemise. He can see the edges of it under your dress—white cotton poking out. Nothing more under that except soft skin—skin he isn’t allowed to touch.
Temar tries to combat the pleasing images of you splayed naked in his bed with images of your bruised and bloody from his claws, his strength, his carelessness. They’re impossible to sustain with you so hale and unbothered in front of him. The comfort of his den discourages such violence from his thoughts, his heat poisoning his mind against him. You aren’t here by choice, he reminds himself.
It’s hard to believe when you cross his room with self-assured confidence, bending down to arrange your apron by his fire, acting as if you’ve no fears to worry you. Your hair is ruffled from either the dishes or taking off your apron and you pat at it absentmindedly. Temar wants it spread across his sheets, his pillow, mussed and messed by his hands while he claims you for himself. The town clearly doesn’t appreciate you, doesn’t value you what they have. He’d treat you right. He’d make sure you loved being his.
With a shake of his head, he blinks and the image before him resolves to you seated on a chair, delicately rebraiding your hair. He can’t keep his eyes off the swift movements of your fingers. Temar imagines what it would feel like if you did the same to him, this simple careful, everyday task. You look up at him from under your full eyelashes, looking perfectly innocent and not a creature pulled from his greatest nightmares and most sincere dreams. “So do you have a plan for managing however many days are left? Have you gone into heat in previous years? How did you manage then?”
The flush that blooms on your face is endearing and attractive. Temar wants desperately to know what you’re thinking when you say ‘heat’. You’ve avoided saying the word nearly the entire time you’ve been heard. Temar knows the rumors that fly about the human population about werebeasts, about heats, he’s overheard it all. From eating human mates to potent fertility and everything in between. Which ones have you heard? Which do you believe in? Likely none of the violent ones or you’d find the prospect far more intimidating than whatever bullshit the council is using to coerce you.
“Temar?”
“You’re right, I’ve already managed to work out a solution on my own, making you presence doubly wasteful.” You flinch at his words and every instinct screams at him to sooth you, to take it back—whatever is needed to make his mate stay. Temar turns rather than continue to watch your reactions to his harsh words. Despite knowing its necessary, it hurts to see your hurt and only encourages the beast to want to soothe, to steal your mind from any hurt by drowning it out with lust and heat. “Follow me.”
“You’ll sleep here,” Temar points out, continuing to refuse to look back at you or his bed for that matter.
His control would surely shatter if he saw you so close to it. He imagines how easily he could push you down on the furs and sheets until he had you spread out like a feast for him and him alone. How he would savor you. How he wouldn’t let you up until he was more than satisfied. A glutton of lust.
The cold metal of the door knob jolts him out of his thoughts. “I’ll be out back.” The crisp air, the brisk breeze, blow your scent from Temar and clear his head. He nearly sighs with relief as he walks off to the right, purpose in his steps, a reminder of his duty as he follows the familiar path.
“Here.” Its clear no matter where you thought he was leading you “pit” was not on the list. Your eyebrows lift nearly to your hairline as you stare down, allowing him precious seconds to gaze at you without a mask of stoicism or frustration, only naked hunger.
“You asked where I weathered heats of the past?” Temar neglects to mention that the first couple years in town rendered his heats short and taxing. Just a handful of nights around the late summer full moon, when the first chill to the air heralding the coming winter. Between his beast’s discomfort with new territory and his own war memories haunting him, his heats were not a concern. It’s only last year that his heat was how it used to be in his youth.
Wild. Hungry. Enduring.
This year is worst yet, not only because of the tight grip it has on him and how he can tell, despite more than a week in, that he has days to go, but also due circumstances outside of his control.
You’re smart enough to spot it. “Did something happen to this…?”
Temar puts you out of your awkward misery. “There was a flood after that storm a couple weeks ago. It dislodged that tree and a wall collapsed.” He’d hoped his heat wouldn’t return with the vengeance it did and so had put off excavating. “In the end, the den took longer than I thought to rebuild, to dig deep enough again. Still not sure I have,” he confesses when you look at him with such open, receptive eyes.
You frown and squint down at the den and Temar doesn’t like the reminder of how dark it’s getting. This entire evening has been a distraction, from the knock on his door, to the meal, to now. He ought not neglect the den any longer, not let his beast draw this out until it can overpower his conscience.
He puts down the ladder, hands grateful for something to do besides itch to settle on your hips. “I’ll be needing to get everything out of here, before the moon finishes rising.” Temar descends as quickly as he can, jumping the last few feet and turning to survey the den.
It was nicer before, he thinks with some dismay, some shame at you seeing such a bare hole in the ground. It’s primarily filled with tools for digging and fortifying, none of the minimal furs and blankets that should be givens for a den. The roof had been damaged when the tree fell in so he hopes it doesn’t rain. Temar resigns himself to waking up covered in dew. It’ll still be better than waking up covered in blood, even after verifying it was all from livestock.
“Temar?” His name on your lips draws his attention back up, like a flower to the sun, like a fish to water, like blood to a bear.
“Can I help you clear it out?” Temar just stares at you, part of his mind still surprised you’re here. Still here. Still offering to help. Help him. You cross your arms again and Temar wishes it didn’t look so good on you, the way it pushes up your chest, makes your arm muscles more prominent. What sort of shop did you say you had again? “Look, I’m another pair of hands, ain’t I?”
“Technically,” he allows, speaking without thinking. All his thought concentrated on your form above him, ripe for the plucking.
You seem to take that as permission and start climbing down the ladder. Temar turns so quickly to avert his eyes from your ass that he forgets to forbid you from coming down. You touch down lightly and Temar reluctantly faces you again, a puppet on the strings of his inner beast, to soak in the sight of you in its den.
The cabin belongs to Temar, the man. The den belongs to Temar, the beast.
Something of that must come across on his face as you pause, one hand on the ladder. “Does it break a rule, for me to be down here?”
A den is a personal, sacred space, with only those closest allowed entry. The beast does not allow you to lie. “No.” A prospective mate is more than a natural allowance. It’s expected.
You nod with satisfaction. The beast preens in approval at your persistence, at your ease in its den. “Then I’m helping. What’s next?”
Wordlessly, you point to the table with the hand tools.
“All of these?” you ask, even as you begin to gather them.
Temar turns away, unable to watch you ascend, and focuses on the final wheelbarrow he needs to move out, the planks he’s using as ramps he’ll need to remove. “Gotta get everything out of here so it don’t get broken.” Also so he can’t use it to escape. When he’s more beast than person, the use of tools doesn’t come naturally, but he’s relentless. Safer to keep them out of reach. That’s the real challenge—keep himself out of reach.
“Right.” There’s a pause while you move around behind him. Temar tries to focus on the feeling of the smooth wood of the wheelbarrow handles, the shudder of the wooden planks below as he moves it out of the den. “How come the walls are like this?”
You must be gesturing to the flat stones embedded in the dirt walls. “Harder to climb, although I haven’t had time to finish the back wall that collapsed yet. Claws don’t do well on smooth stone. A lot if the grout needs to be redone. Something for tomorrow.”
“Smart,” you say, sounding impressed.
Temar grunts in response, trying to focus on pulling the crude ramp out of the den and not on puffing up at your approval. Not seeing how else he might earn your esteem, might otherwise impress you.
“What’s it like,” you ask, quietly but clearly. Temar had been wondering if you’d ask. Waiting. “When…”
You trail off so he’s not sure if you meaning being a werebear or being one in heat. He supposes the answer isn’t terribly different. “Simpler, harsher, more vivid,” he says, “Less control when in heat than the rest of the time. In the army, we were trained to control the transformation, taught how to keep our minds more intact—it doesn’t work like that for heat. Getting locked up is how it was dealt with even there.” Not that they lasted long back then for anyone.
“I’ve heard of the loss of control.” You don’t specify if you mean in general or in heat, but Temar supposes it doesn’t matter either way.
Perhaps this would be a good time to remind both of you what’s at stake, how dangerous Temar is in heat to anyone vulnerable around him. “Just a beast at that point.” Temar doesn’t look you in the eye as he keeps talking, heading back down into the den now the planks are out and it’s the only way down. “Can’t understand human speech. Can barely tell human from animal. No reasoning with me. I’ll do what I want when I want to. Damn anyone else.”
Not that you’re as intimidated as he wishes you were. “What about other weres?”
“Aye.” Temar doesn’t mind confirming that, not when he knows it can’t encourage you. “Thats a mite different. We can handle each other better, can find that sliver of common ground. Family can calm you, your own territory, and of course, if you’ve got everything you want, you won’t go roaming for it. Won’t get angry and frustrated you can’t find it.”
“That all the time, or just in heat?” He can still hear the shyness in your voice whenever you say heat, but its obvious your curiosity is too great. Temar surveys the den while he considers his answer, hands you left over plates and cutlery from his noontime meal, eaten down in the den while he worked furiously to get it ready for tonight. He’s careful not to let his fingers brush yours, not to look you in the face, lest he see some fear there that hadn’t been before. Lest the beast see a lack of such fear. Temar truly felt caught between a rock and hard place.
He can see the question you’re dancing around and cuts to the quick, praying you’ll be sensible and leave since he wouldn’t be able to make you anymore. He’s not sure he even could back on the porch. “Its dangerous for any human to lay with a werebeast. Injury from strength or claws or teeth is impossible to prevent. Even if you’re mates.” He reminds himself as ruthlessly as tells you. It was rare, but it happened. Heartbreaking accidents. “Even if you’ve known each other for years. Someone in my troop had killed their husband in a heat frenzy once.”
“Not always though,” you reply, too hopeful by far, too logical not to notice the exaggeration. “It can’t be or weres would have died out.”
“No, not always,” Temar allows. “The tendency towards multiple children in a litter helps. But usually longer held relationships fare better. If the were isn’t in a bad mood, isn’t stressed—if the partner cooperates right.”
He hands you the last item that needs out and once you get to the top, he says, “Pull up that ladder, now.”
You pause, standing stock still and for a second he wonders if you’ll even listen. Temar’s not sure he has the strength to ask a second time.
“Sure.” You pull up the ladder.
His human mind eases at that, at the sight of you more than seven feet overhead, out of reach. His beast disagrees, seething in displeasure and unfulfilled lust. Naturally, you can’t leave well enough alone and sit down, legs dangling into the den. He knows he could grab your ankle at this, yank you down and—
Temar turns to study the den once more. It won’t stick in his mind with you clouding his judgment the way you are. He narrows his eyes, forcing himself to assess if its deep enough, the walls defended enough. “I still need to get the cover fixed, if that damn blacksmith ever manages to be around when I stop by. The back wall needs to be stoned, but if I try to climb it like it is, it’s just as likely to crumble which’ll keep me in just the same. It’ll do. It had better more than satisfy those bastards on the council.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose it will.” You shrug, as if you’d forgotten about them. “Will you let me visit? After I leave in the morning—” you add swiftly as if to cut off a correction Temar for once wasn’t offering. “In case there’s anything else I can help with? I meant it when I said we could help each other out. I admit I do not relish the chore of fetching all fuel for my fire in these coming months and perhaps I can provide something for you? I’m a skilled weaver in addition to my work with dyes. If you would not be opposed?”
How can you forget the council so easily? Dismiss them offhand like that. Why do you speak of ‘after’ so lightly? As if you expect to see him again, as if that’s something you might want. Temar’s thoughts turn in circles once more over your duress. He must remember you cannot be here by choice. It’s getting harder by the minute. By each minute you sit on the edge of his den, not a care in the world. Not a notion of his steadily deteriorating self-control. His lack of giving any indication of his growing need has gone from helpful to sinister, a wolf in sheep’s clothing no longer trying to reassure, but to lure closer its prey.
“Perhaps,” he manages to say.
You continue to talk, but the words’ meaning slip through his fingers. The change is pushing itself on him while he wiles away a few more minutes in your presence. Just to try to burn off excess energy, Temar turns to push one of the stones in better, to align it flat with the rest of them. Except… he can feel your eyes on his back while he does so.
Your scent to spikes.
He wheels around, wildly, and belated realizes the height you’re at, brings your loins far more to a height with his nose than ever before. Did his display of strength inspire something of lust in you? His beast roars for you once more at this indication of receptiveness.
The moonlight colors your hair, emphasizing your etherealness, the wonder at your very presence. How much Temar wants to hold you in his hands, claim you for his own. How much he wants to bring you down to earth, push you under him and take his pleasure from you.
He takes a step closer and it feels like the first sprung leak in a dam. The first domino to fall. The spark of fire on dry, dry tinder.
“R-un.”
In retrospect perhaps the most provocative thing Temar could have done was instigate a chase. Actually, the most provocative was definitely you listening and running.
You pull your legs up swiftly, battling your skirts to get your feet under yourself with a haste that surprises even yourself. Only one word and a glimpse of those glowing eyes, and you’re dashing for the cabin. Adrenaline pours into your veins as you the image of the fur rippling out over Temar’s body as he gave that last command fills your mind. 
In retrospect, the fur had been spreading steadily since you’d taken away the ladder without you fully registering it. His voice had been changing, although that you’d noticed plenty. The lower tone was a little harder to make out, even more pleasant to listen to, stirring up those lascivious thoughts that hadn’t left your mind since the town meeting was called. You swear his muscles had swelled too. The way they had moved beneath his shirt, which fit tighter with each minute that had passed. You’d felt spellbound, even though you swear that’s not a rumor associated with weres, and unconcerned by said compulsion.
Given the seriousness with which Temar gave the order as well as his earlier apprehension, you feel guilty for the mad sort of excitement rather than fear that courses through you. A roar, harsh and throaty, comes from the den behind you. It's one of rage and frustration. A beast that’s just realized it's been trapped. That it can’t get to what it wants. A loud thud follows. A growl of continued frustration hurries you on, feet pounding the ground as you run. You can almost trick yourself into thinking you hear your own name mixed in with the next roar that comes from where you’ve left Temar behind.
Due to your haste and unfamiliarity with Temar’s land and the fallen gloom, you end up missing the door along the back of the cabin and re-enter through the front. You lock that door with shaking hands and a pounding heart. The sounds of nature, of wind, of the echoes of Temar’s growl, are replaced by quiet solitude and the crackle of the fire, still burning in the hearth. You attempt to catch your breath. You try to let the mundane familiarity of the cabin and the silence calm your nerves. It’s not working very well.
You’re not sure what prompted his yell or his roar. Temar had said if he had everything he needed, he wouldn’t want to go searching for it, so it must have been his inner beast’s continued frustration at the lack of a desirable mate, which you continue to attempt not to take personally.
You’re still keyed up from the experience and seeing him actually start to transform, which still held some magic to you having never witnessed such a thing before, as well as all your interactions with him this evening. Temar seemed somewhat open to the idea of being friends, which was nice, you remind yourself. He is still immensely fascinating to you—this night has only made that more apparent. He feels less onerous to be around than some of your other acquaintances. He doesn’t put up any fronts and you feel like you don’t have to either. Even when he was clearly frustrated or angry—which you believe is exacerbated by whatever physical and mental toll his heat is putting on him—he never raised his voice. Temar only ever physically moved away from you, not towards you. 
Speaking of physicality, he was so strong. The way he moved, carried, and shoved the tools out of his den had been impressive. The skill and strength it must have taken to make it in the first place, from the manual labor of digging it out, to stonework, to the manner of transportation in and out were all impressive. You’ll have to make sure to stop by Nicolas’ forge tomorrow to ensure Temar can get his roof fixed. But for now, your mind’s eye lingers on how his muscles had flexed, how easily he might be able to move you about, lifting you, arranging you to best please him.
You shake your head to try to rid yourself of such thoughts when none of them are going to come true. Temar is the one who’s having a hard time, not you here in his home. He hadn’t complained about the den, but you can tell it must be a far cry from what it was before the damage, it saddens you to think of him out there and alone. You long to comfort him, even though you know he doesn’t want your comfort. His roar had only proven his frustration and unhappiness, how unfulfilled he must be, stuck in the pit. You swear you can still hear yet another roar mixed with your name. 
You take another look around the room and sigh, finding it far less interesting without him present. You’re still wound up from today’s jostling ship ride of events. Your hormones are out of balance after plans and hopes of helping Temar through his heat. While ending your night alone in Temar’s cabin, in his bed, while he’s stuck out in a hole in the ground isn’t where you expected or how you wanted the night to end, you suppose it's better than him still out in the woods where he might cause more damage or hurt someone.
Your hands go to your buttons as you start to undo them. An early night is in order. Just because Temar doesn’t want you, doesn’t mean you have to go unsatisfied. Your outer clothing drops to the floor, leaving you in your underthings. Draping the cloth over the couch, you wonder if he might be able to smell what you get up to in the morning. Would it be cruel to leave such a trace behind? you wonder as you slip over to the bedroom door. Or would it be your due after his refusal?
Something to worry about in the morning. You’re too hot and bothered to care much now. You turn the knob and enter the dark room. Your eyes just barely adjust enough to make out the outline of his large bed of furs when you’re pushed back against the door, slamming it shut. 
An almost subsonic growl fills the small room as you look up and up to meet glowing yellow-green eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, even faster than it had when you’d been running only a few moments ago. A cloud moves from in front of the full moon and the beast that Temar must be now looms over you.
Heavy hands—or are they paws now?—pin you to the wall, one spread over your sternum and the other engulfing your hip. Your hands reflexively reach out and curl around his arm, fingers sinking into dense, soft fur. With the hand pressing against your chest, you barely manage to make a sound more than a surprised inhale, anything else compressed by Temar’s savage strength and your own shock. 
Fight or flight seems to have tried to kick in only to unexpectedly leave you both at ‘freeze’ while you stare one another down. The moonlight illuminates his face, throwing into relief the complex mix of man and beast Temar now is. The same black salted with gray that had been evident in his beard is now more evident in the thin layer of fur covering his face. His jaw is larger to accommodate the sharp teeth and prominent fangs now present. His mouth is open as he pants and huffs, eyes fixated on you. You can still see the man in the beast, but he’s more than he was only moments ago.
You hold perfectly still as Temar leans down and starts to huff and sniff at your neck, shifting his fingers as he does so. You can feel his claws snag in the looser weave of your chemise as he does so. Has he always smelled like the forest? you think in a shocked haze, like the pine trees and the freshly turned earth with an undercurrent of musk. He growls into your neck while you stay pinned like an insect on a card, unable to do anything else when confronted by the reality of his transformed appearance, of his touch when he had recoiled from you so vehemently before.
You jolt when he manages to do more than growl, when you realize it isn’t your imagination that puts your name on his lips. Heat sears through you to hear the need in his voice, the demand, by the idea that you’ve managed to make such an impression on him that he managed to speak at all. Then those lips cover your own in an uncoordinated but wanting kiss. Instantly, your mind is wiped clean of rejection, and disinterest, and undesirability. Those ideas can’t exist in tandem when he kisses you like he’s starving. 
When you break apart, you breathlessly gasp out his name, a hand cupping his jaw. You suck in shallow breaths, as if you only just stopped running, as if he’d been chasing you since he’d told you to run. You tremble with shameless lust at being sought after specifically—he hadn’t just been demanding after vague wants but for you.
He manages your name once more, tongue and jaw and teeth making the word hard to understand except that all your senses are straining for him, desperate for anything to help you understand him, to understand this change. “Mate.” 
You don’t know if it's a question or not, but it's all you’ve been offering since you first showed up on his doorstep. “Yes,” you reply breathlessly, suddenly more desperate than ever in his hold. Desire burns through you for him. You tug futilely at his jaw, push desperately against the massive paw on your chest to reach him. “Temar. Mate.”
You don’t fool yourself into thinking your strength is what moves him, but perhaps your words do manage to penetrate his mind because he presses his lips to yours once more, immediately deepening the kiss. He fucks into your mouth with filthy promise. Your head is held between the door at your back and him, hot and massive, crowding you, boxing you in, cutting off any escape. Escape is the absolute furthest thing from your mind.
His grip on you strengthens, the hand on your sternum moving to bracket your neck. His thumb rests lightly against the column of your throat, the claw drawing a line of danger on your collarbone. His fingers hooked over your back, their claws digging into the meat of your shoulder. They haven’t broken your skin but you know they could, the sting of them makes you want to arch both away and into them. 
You tremble as you realize how securely and sinfully caught you are by this werebear, by Temar. You know that he could hold onto you like this for hours and nothing you could do would be able to force him to let go. You never want him to. Instead you melt in his hold. His hand pinning you by your hip is likely the only thing keeping you on your feet and not just a pool of lust at his.
His need is evident given the way his hips rock against your own. The press of him against your whole body is unlocking some hidden need in you and you attempt to push back, to rut against him in return. You feel desperation growing in your bones, in the heart of you, something wild and wanting that can only be sated by him. Temar rumbles his approval, moving more deliberately against you until a growl of frustration escapes him.
When he pulls back, readjusting his hold on you, you open your mouth to protest, to say something, anything to get him back. It’s reflexive after how this night has gone, but unnecessary now. Temar picks you up with no apparent effort, only impatience, and tosses you onto the bed. 
You land with an oof, scrambling to think around the rolling heat that moves through your body threatening to drown you at such a display. You’ve barely made any sense of yourself after being flung through the darkness when he’s dropped low and moved on top of you. His movements are strong and decisive as he pushes your chemise up. He noses his way between your thighs, spreading them apart to make room for him. You barely have time to consider being embarrassed about being exposed, at how wet you know you are, when his wide tongue, inhuman roughness obvious, covers your cunt.
Your yelp of surprise turns into a long drawn out moan as he licks at you, vigorously, hungrily. He places a massive hand on each of your thighs, claws stinging just enough to quicken the pulsing need between your legs. You twitch and shiver as he pushes your legs further apart to accommodate his bulk. Your heated skin finds the remaining fabric bunched around your waist too much and you hastily try to shuck it the rest of the way off as fast as you. It's the most uncoordinated you’ve ever felt due to the manner in which Temar is concentrating on sucking your mind out of your head via your cunt.
Free at last of the uncomfortable and restricting garment, you reach down, fingers threading into Temar’s wild mane of hair on instinct alone. You don’t kow if you’ve even stopped moaning since his tongue attached itself to your cunt. Simultaneously, it's too much and not enough and all you can do is try to hang on for the ride he’s determined to take you on. Sweeping you down into the heat of feral lust with him. 
One of his hands leaves your thigh to clamp down across your stomach and hold down your hips. Your fingers tighten as he holds you in place to take what he wants from you. His unwavering focus is on eating you out, so starving for you that for now even the beast is content with your taste, leaving his hips rutting against the bedding. 
Temar wrings sounds from you know you’ve never made before. You never want anyone else to even try. Fuck, so good, you think. Or maybe you say aloud because you swear he grunts his approval and his tongue somehow manages to reach deeper. 
The black pad of his thumb rubs your clit perfectly and you scream you shatter. He growls triumphantly as he greedily drinks down every last drop of your release
You feel unspooled and languid, molten in your pleasure. Temar too seems satisfied with the meal he’s made of you for now as he pulls back, licking his lips. His fingers tighten their hold on your hips as your only warning before he flips you over. Dazedly, automatically, you try to brace yourself. He grunts in approval at how he has successfully maneuvered you onto your hands and knees. Right where you wanted to be ever since you first understood that he was in heat without a lover. Since you realized you wanted to be that lover.
One of his hands leaves your hip to stroke up your spine and you shudder at the feeling of calluses, iron strength, and claws. Instinctively, you arch into the motion, wanting to encourage him to touch you as much as possible. You’re so grateful you’ve already tossed your chemise gods know where. “Please,” you gasp out.
He rumbles with approval and as if having heard your unarticulated thoughts, drapes himself further over you. He pulls you against the cradle of his hips with one firm motion eliciting a squeal from your lips. It's evidently not close enough, as he wraps his fingers around your shoulder and pulls again until he can rut his cock against where you feel oh so empty. 
With you where he wants you, Temar releases his hold on your shoulder to lurch you both forward, him bracing you both with that hand on the bed. It leaves you clearly trapped under him. You close your eyes to savor the position and you’re struck by the image you two would paint, were you able to see. Perhaps that should be more intimidating or even frightening than it is, but you like the heavy weight of him, the power evident in his body as he cages you in. 
The ache between your legs only grows more acute. “Temar,” you plead, attempting to move your hips against him despite the hold he still has on one of your hips. The gnawing hunger and persistent emptiness are starting to hurt, desire buzzing along your every nerve. 
“Mine,” Temar proclaims as the head of his cock finally catches perfectly and he starts to drive into you. The stretch and ache of him causes your moan to fracture under the strain. It’s been so long, but you're so wet it almost doesn’t matter. He’s so thick, so long, you’re losing all sense of anything outside of where the two of you are joined. The last few inches cause a pleasurable burn as you clench around him. Gods it's been too long since you were filled like this, if you’ve ever even had someone with his girth before. 
Temar growls contentedly once he’s fully seated inside you and you gladly take the precious few seconds to adjust. Soon enough, he pulls nearly all the way out of you causing a desperate whine to build up in the back of your throat until he thrusts back in, ripping a ragged sound from your throat that might resemble his name. 
He picks up speed with each movement of his hips, getting surer and stronger each time. You feel your whole body move and jolt with his each and every thrust. Your hands scrabble fruitlessly at the bedding under you, trying to brace yourself or get a grip but you can’t, uncoordinated and weak from your previous orgasm as well as the overwhelming way Temar is fucking you. 
He’s going to ruin you and you’re going to thank him.
His control seems to be fraying the longer he’s inside you. You can see the claws tipping his fingers get longer where they dig into the bedding and you can feel the way they dig into your hip. The pain is the perfect counterpoint to the pleasure of him finally hitting that perfect spot inside. You can feel your inner walls flutter from the sensation. Temar must like that because he groans and makes a noticeable effort to strike that same spot repeatedly.
The unrelenting attention pays off immediately as you can feel your need wind tighter and tighter while your mind empties of thought except for the sensation and heat Temar is bringing forth from the depths you. The continual barrage of his cock finally shoves you over the edge of pleasure once more and you obligingly shatter.
He groans as your clenching around him seems to be all he needs to let go. He hilts in you one last time and you feel him come hard. He fills you up with his seed, warmth spreading, and continuing to make little half thrusts, as if trying to make sure it stays deep within you. You’re still coming down from your orgasm but the sense of satisfaction expands in your chest now that Temar’s reached his peak too.
You close your eyes, limp underneath him, but more content than you’ve felt in ages, in perfect harmony with your werebeast mate.
At some point, you feel him tip you both over onto your sides, though he keeps his cock firmly seated within your heat, keeping you full. Temar’s rumble is full of satisfaction and he engulfs you in his hold, making it clear neither of you are separating anytime soon.
You don’t know how long you lay there on your side, blissfully fuck out, still full of him. You don’t care. You enjoy floating in the hazy afterglow. Eventually he slips out of you, pulling a gasp from you and a whine from him. He nuzzles against you, as if to comfort you. You’re too boneless and witless to do anything more than nuzzle him back. 
At some point you do notice him start to move against you once more. His large hands are running along your body, as if committing it to memory. It’s not until he starts to focus on your nipples, rubbing his thumb in increasingly tight circles. Desire starts to zip through your sluggish veins and you whine, twitching in his loose hold. He seems to appreciate your reaction, nudging your head with his until you turn it to face him better. He catches your mouth in a consuming kiss, more coordinating than any previously but just as hungry. It's deep and filthy and leaves you vibrating for me.
His hand covers your cunt, still swollen and wet from your combined cum, in addition to the desire within you he’s stroking back up into a blaze.  Your sensitivity causes your hips to stutter as you’re caught between wanting more and being too tender for it. He loses interest in using his hand once you’re pushing towards him more than you are moving away. Pulling you down his body once more, his fur causing goosebumps to ripple across your flesh until you’re back where Temar at least seems to think you belong: in the cradle of his hips.
“Oh! Temar, you—mm, o-oh,” you attempt to say something to address the reignition of his desire, but before you can, his stiffening cock has managed to press against your cunt just right, moving through your lingering wetness and the spend that’s leaked out of you since said cock last left you.
“Mate,” he intones, lust certainly back into his voice. He pulls you up off the bed, securing you to his chest with the hand still clutching your chest. You’re not sure his other hand he's left your hip since it settled there. “More.”
“I, yes,” you reply, trying to pull yourself back together. Of course while in heat, he’d want to—you cut your own thoughts off with a surprised moan as he pushes back into you. Your fingers clench in the sheets as your sore, but slick muscles allow him back inside. The overstimulation is giving your head a rush. 
Luckily, this time Temar seems more deliberate and rhythmic with his thrusting rather than frenzied and desperate. His other hand resumes kneading your chest and rubbing against your stiffened nipple. The change in angle seems to keep him from going too fast and luckily requires none of your strength. In fact, the sensation of him fucking you while you lay limp in his grasp is quickly bring your own lust back at a dizzying pace you don’t expect.
He shifts and the angle gets even better, causing you to moan loudly in encouragement. You sag against him, your bones feel liquid from the way he’s been relentlessly thrusting within your cunt. His grunts and your pants fill the room. You’re still so hot, with sweat rolling down your back only to be absorbed into his fur. The sensation ensures you never forget who and what is taking you. You glory in it, in knowing he chose you.
You feel like he’s determined to fuck you until you can’t see straight, can’t move and you’re beyond willing for him to try. 
Gods, he’s going to make you forget your own name.
Something curls deep in you, winding around itself with each passing second he continues moving within you. He hunches forward, just enough to press against you, to change the angle some minuscule amount, and that spring releases. You fracture around him. As before, that appears to be all he needs to push as deep as he can and spill his seed in you one more time. The sensation of his release, of the desperate way he continues to try to fill you are the last things you remember before the pleasure pulls you under.
-/-
In the morning, or given the angle of the sun, the afternoon when you wake after a sleep longer than an hour, Temar surrounds you still. You’re in no rush as you take the time to regain your bearings and take stock of your aches. Without opening your eyes you can tell he’s looking at you. “Regret?” you ask simply, stock still in his hold, voice scratchy from overuse. You lost count of how many times aTemar fucked you last night. It's all a blur of heat and desire.
“No,” Temar rumbles, adjusting his hold. “Mine.” The added growl behind the words even in his human form sends a shiver down your spine and reignites the ache in your muscles in the most pleasing manner. 
It's more than you were hoping for, and yet you can’t help but ask, cautiously, “For the rest of your heat?” Some small part of you is still expecting to be sent on your way far sooner than you’d like to be. 
“I suppose you’ve convinced me,” Temar replies, the amusement in his voice unable to stay hidden under his put upon reluctance. “If you’ve made this foolish choice, I suppose I’ll let it stand—for now.”
“You may be stubborn, but I think we can agree I won this battle,” you point out. You finally blink your eyes open for long enough to look over your shoulder and meet his brown ones. He looks indulgent when you cup his cheek. “What makes you think you’ll fare better in the next one? I’m not sure I want for this to end with your heat.”
“I thought you’d say something of the sort,” Temar replies with a roll of eyes. He nips at your ear and pats you on the hip. “We can discuss after your bath.”
You hum, pleased immensely by the prospect. “See? Perhaps it’s you who is mine after all.”
---
Extra thanks to everyone who followed along with the original posting! all your comments and tags and asks were super encouraging!!
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moonstruckme · 7 months ago
Note
Hey Mae! I love your work sm. I’m submitting a request because right now I’m dealing with some really crazy friend drama and while I’m mostly handling it okay it’s still a lot! Your fics bring me a lot of comfort- especially your James fics- and I was wondering if could do James comforting reader because of friend drama.
Totally okay if you can’t and thanks for listening either way!
<3 M
Thanks for requesting M, hope your drama is causing you a bit less stress these days! <3
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 838 words
“And when I asked her she said she wasn’t upset, but I could tell, you know?” You’re sitting with your hands trapped under your thighs on the kitchen counter and your back against the cabinets as James makes a sauce for your pasta on the stove. 
Your boyfriend makes a dissatisfied tsking sound. “Upset in general or upset with you?” 
“Upset with me,” you clarify, sighing. It’s been an exhausting afternoon. “She gets like this sometimes. She’s all huffy and snaps at me whenever I say anything, but if anyone brings it up she’ll say she’s fine. I don’t know why it always seems to be me.” 
James makes a sad face, kissing you on the cheek. “M’sorry, lovie. Then what happened?” 
“Then, we were just, you know.” Your fingers wiggle underneath your thighs, wanting to fidget with something, but you’d put them under there in the first place to keep from picking at your hangnail. It’s not unusual for you to come home from a hangout with your friends eager to gossip with James, but today’s weighing heavily on you. “We were just walking around, trying to find somewhere to eat. Everyone else was acting like everything was fine so I was trying to go with it, but any time I talked she’d snipe at me like I was being so annoying. And I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong.
“After a while, one of the girls asked if she was alright, and she said she was, but then almost right after that I was talking to someone else and she got really pissed off with me—I don’t even remember what it was, honestly, something about me asking a dumb question—and I just—I completely snapped.”
James looks over at you, eyes widening slightly behind his glasses. You look down at your lap.
“I don’t know, I don’t think any of the things I said were wrong, but I feel—” Your voice tightens and thins, tears pressing at your eyes. “—really bad for raising my voice like that. And now she won’t speak to me.” 
“Oh,” James sets down his spoon, “baby.” 
“Uh oh,” you joke weakly. James only calls you baby when he’s feeling particularly sorry for you. 
He leaves his sauce to simmer, nudging your legs apart and stepping between them. His hands land on your lower back, his head on your shoulder. You slip a hand free from under your leg to cup the back of his head, fingers sinking into downy curls. 
“I’ve made things awkward for everyone now,” you say in a small voice. “She’s always angry, but I was the one who shouted. It’s my fault there’s conflict.” 
“I really doubt anyone sees it that way,” says James. His palm that’s higher up on your back is rubbing up and down consolingly. “Anyone who knows you knows that you’re not one to shout. But we’re all bound to get a little riled up sometimes, and by the sound of it you’d just reached the end of your tether, lovely. I think your friends will understand that.” 
“I don’t know.” You began this conversation hoping to keep up a light front, but you’re starting to sound terribly glum. “I know they’ll all be upset if we don’t make up. I think I need to apologize.” 
“Why not her?” 
“She won’t do it.” 
James sighs, leaning back so he can see you and cupping the side of your neck. His thumb strokes your cheek. “If you think that’s what you need to do,” he says frownily. “I just want to say for the record, though, that you haven’t done anything wrong. She sounds like she deserved to be shouted at.” 
You feel a little bit lighter after one of his world-class hugs, your lips tugging upwards. “Oh, yeah? And that’s your totally unbiased opinion, is it?” 
“Totally,” he swears, lifting three fingers in a salute. “Scout’s honor.” 
You let out a little laugh and pinch him on the bicep, where there’s ridiculously little yield. James grins and retaliates by catching your hand, holding it captive as he leans forward, kissing you soundly. 
“You were never in boyscouts,” you mumble against his lips. 
“Could’a been.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, your chin. “I like to consider myself an honorary member.” 
“Pretty sure that doesn’t count.” 
“Oh? And how would you know?”
James’ face is up close and personal with yours, eyes flirty and hand placed intentionally high on your thigh. If you blinked, your eyelashes would be centimeters away from brushing his glasses. 
“You’re distracting me,” you say. 
He smiles, half sheepish. It seeps through your warming skin. “It was working, too. Let me keep trying?” 
You roll your eyes, but you know James can see the grin you’re fighting to suppress. “Sure, fine.” 
“Excellent.” He dots a quick kiss on your chin and squeezes your thigh before stepping back in front of the stove. “Get the pasta out for me, please, lovie? I can hardly ravish you on an empty stomach.”
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spider-stark · 3 months ago
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A BOY'S FIRST PEST
Kaz Brekker x Reader
Summary - Kaz Brekker thinks Per Haskell's daughter is a (very lovely) pest
Warnings - fem!reader, traumatraumatrauma, the woes of troubled youth, light mentions of blood and death, these bitches trauma bonded yo, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED WE DIE LIKE MEN
Word Count - 2.0k
!MINORS DNI!
// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //
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Everyone knows Kaz Brekker put his own money into fixing up the Slat. 
He hired men to patch the leaky roof (though it still drips during a heavy rain) and put proper insulation in the walls (which keeps the house warm enough, even if it does nothing to muffle the noise of its occupants). He had all the doors fitted with working knobs (but easily picked locks) and ensured the kitchen was capable of making a warm meal (even if seriously doubted any of the Dregs knew how to cook). 
And while he would never admit it aloud, Kaz was also the one who made sure there were always clean linens in every room (albeit the cheapest Ketterdam has to offer) and spare clothes in every closet (sizes ranging from wafer-thin to barrel-chested). In keeping, he also takes it upon himself to keep the bathing room stocked with a steady supply of toiletries (because if someone uses his toothbrush again, he’s going to kill everyone in this place and then himself). 
Because of Kaz Brekker, the Slat was more than just a safe place to hole up. It was a haven, the closest thing many of the Dregs had to a home. 
But it did, of course, have one enduring problem. 
The pests.
Or, namely, the one pest—one that he could never quite exterminate (though the spider privy to the inner-workings of Kaz Brekker’s mind might argue the merit of replacing ‘could never’ with ‘would never’). 
Per Haskell’s very annoying (and very lovely) daughter. 
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In the midst of Ketterdam’s hottest season, you find yourself lying sprawled on your back atop the dark sheets, clad in the skimpiest nightclothes you own: a matching set of black silk shorts and flowy, thin-strapped camisole. The air is thick and near stifling in the attic-bedroom, but you don’t mind it. You prefer being hot to cold, if only because the heavy weight of winter clothes makes you feel trapped, eliciting the urge to crawl straight from your skin. 
When the door finally swings open, you eagerly push up onto your elbows. 
Kaz doesn’t so much as spare a glance in your direction. He’s got one hand on his cane, the other shoving the door shut behind him as he limps toward his desk, guided by the bright moonlight spilling in from the muggy window. 
Your shoulders slump, huffing out a breath. “Seriously? You’re not even gonna greet me?” 
With his back turned to you, Kaz removes his hat and places it on the desk. He doesn’t look at you. “You’re in my room.” 
“Yeah—so I was actually thinking something more along the lines of hello,” you drone, lips pursed. “Y’know, that thing normal people say when they see their friends.” 
“We’re not friends.” 
A hand flies to your chest, as if struck by his words. “Um, ouch? Rude. For your sake, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” 
Kaz tugs off his signature gloves and tosses them next to his hat. “I can always repeat it,” he says, so impassive you can’t tell if it’s a joke. 
Knowing Kaz, you’re pretty sure it’s not. 
You push up the rest of the way, scooting down to sit cross-legged at the end of his bed. It’s so much nicer than yours—the sheets softer, the mattress plusher, the smell so familiar and warm. 
If it were up to you, you’d sleep in here every night. 
And most nights, that’s exactly what you do. 
“Would it kill you to be nice sometimes?” you ask. 
“Not usually, no.” Kaz faces you, his weight leaned back against the desk, his cane propped against it. “But we both know you’re a special case.” 
“Is that a compliment?” 
“Not at all.” 
Your bottom lip juts into a pout. “Has anyone ever told you you’re an asshole?” 
Aside from the subtlest lift of his brows, Kaz’s expression remains vague and disinterested. “Regularly,” he deadpans, looking the image of austere melancholy. 
Your laugh comes so sudden it sounds like a snort. “I should’ve guessed,” you nod, forever unphased by Kaz’s forbidding attitude. 
This is the way things have always been between you. Ever since a surly twelve year old marched head-high into your father’s office to see if the Dregs needed a new grunt, oblivious to the girl beaming up at him from a lonely corner, weaving colorful scraps of thread into bracelets for the friends you’d yet to make. 
Kaz Brekker is dark and foreboding while you’re bright and bubbly; he’s rude and standoffish while you’re sweet and flirtatious. Some may liken your relationship to oil and water, but you prefer thinking of it as a carefully crafted balance—a yin and yang sort of thing. 
Kaz, on the other hand, would simply say you’re a thorn in his side. 
Fortunately for yourself, you’re not an easily offended thorn. 
The rickety floorboards creak as Kaz starts around the desk. His bare fingers trail along the varnished edge for support. His limp is always at its worst by this time of night, so you’re not surprised to see the flicker of relief that slips over him when he finally sinks into the chair. 
“Have you ever considered that maybe you work too hard?” Your voice teeters on the edge of concern, tracing idle shapes against the sheets with your nails. 
His answer is curt, and contradictory to the purple smudges beneath his eyes. “No.” 
Fumbling with his cufflinks—simple, unadorned things—Kaz rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. Afterwards, he flips open the thick ledger laid before him, plucking up a pen and dipping it into an awaiting pot of ink. 
Kaz keeps track of the Dregs expenses in his head—a skill you’ve always found most impressive, since you can hardly do a simple equation without scratch paper. Still, he keeps the physical record for the sake of having something to point to in case someone’s ever stupid enough to claim Dirtyhands flubbed the numbers. 
As he works, boredom quickly becomes a chip on your shoulder. 
Your legs unfurl, bare feet stretching toward the floor as you slip off the edge of the bed. Every step is purposeful, traipsing toward him with a look that’s not so unlike a cat readying to toy with its favorite mouse. 
“Maybe we should take a holiday,” you suggest, your voice a soft trill. 
One part of you expects to be ignored, the other to be shot down. 
He lands somewhere in the middle. 
“And go where? His eyes remain focused on the ledger, dark brows drawn tight in concentration. You envision numbers flashing before him, adding and subtracting at the steady pass of the nib scratching against parchment. 
“I don’t know. Ravka, maybe?” 
“Ravka?” It’s like the word tastes sour on his tongue. “Why?” 
You stop just short of his desk, an answer instantly rapping at your mind. You quickly replace it with one that’s far less tragic. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Nikolai Lantsov with my own eyes,” you drawl. “Nina says he’s quite the looker, y’know.” 
Kaz sits up a little straighter, shoulders pinned with newfound tension. 
“Of course he is.” He seems to press the nib down harder, his disinterested tone bordering close to resentful. “He’s a prince—looking pretty is all they’re good for.” 
Your head tilts. “Well, he’s actually a king now, so…” 
There’s the briefest falter in the smooth motion of his jotting wrist. “I’m not taking you to Ravka so you can seduce the Lantsov bastard.” 
“And why not?” You reach for the tip of his cane, still propped against the desk, skimming a finger over the crow’s head. “You think I can’t do it?” 
The pen keeps on scratching, accented by the dull hum of the Slat’s perpetual motion—doors slamming, voices cackling. Your ego grows larger for every second Kaz stays silent, your satisfaction settling into a feline smirk. 
Simply, yet firmly, Kaz eventually maintains, “We’re not going to Ravka.” 
Your exhale is something over dramatic, laden with feigned disappointment as you huff, “Fine!” Kaz never looks up, continuing with the ledger. 
Abandoning the crow’s head, you swipe one of Kaz’s abandoned gloves off the desk, fiddling with the smooth leather. Still recovering from their civil war, you imagine Ravka isn’t an ideal travel spot right now, anyway. Not unless someone has a morbid desire to tour the sites where Saints met their often-grisly ends, that is… Besides, for all Nina’s praise of the Lantsov king, you’ve never actually had a thing for blondes. 
And yet— 
“I really would like to go someday.” Your voice is hardly a whisper. Your other answer—tragic and rapping—crawls up your throat in a hoarse admission, “My mother was Ravkan.” 
That persistent scratching finally comes to a sudden halt. 
For the first time since he entered the room, Kaz looks up. There’s not a hint of pity in his eyes, though they gleam with solemn understanding. Your lips thin, pressing his glove tight to your chest. 
In the winter of your fourteen birthday, you snuck into your father’s office and stole a full bottle of kvas. Dressed in clothes too light for the frigid weather, you sped up the crooked stairs to Kaz’s attic-bedroom, pleading until he begrudgingly agreed to join you on the moonlit roof. For a boy who claimed such an aversion to you, he was always doing things you asked—even if he’d griped the whole time. You both gagged after the first sip of hard liquor. After an hour or so, the full bottle had dwindled to just a drop, your tongues seeming to move with more freedom. 
Neither of you had been prepared for the way the carbonated joy in your chests fizzled to something stagnant. 
I don’t like being alone, you told him, fiddling with the frayed strings tied around your wrist, the friendship bracelets no one ever wanted. If I’m alone, it means I’m thinking, and if I’m thinking, it means my mother won’t stop dying. 
You told him of the endless montage in your head. How at six years old, a walk along the Stave in your favorite winter coat ended with getting crushed beneath the weight of your mother’s last act of devotion, shielded by a body crumpled and crimson, shorn in the crossfire of unexpected gang violence. When you fell silent, Kaz drained the last drop of kvas and told you about a coffee shop near the Exchange. About a sickboat and a boy named Jordie, about a frosty harbor and an impossible swim that left him unable to bear the touch of another’s skin. 
When neither of you had any soul left to bear, Kaz chucked the bottle off the roof. You don’t remember hearing it shatter, and maybe it never did. Maybe it hit some hapless pigeon and fractured his skull. Maybe it ceased to exist the moment it went over the edge. The bottle didn’t matter. Not to you. Not when Kaz Brekker reached for your wrist, leather-clad fingers gently tugging the bracelets off your wrist. 
Don’t make a thing of this, he told you, stuffing them in his pocket. You’re still a pest.
But it was a thing. A strange, beautiful thing—and both of you knew it. 
“Fine.” Kaz’s voice—the rasp of stone on stone—drags you back to the present. He sits the pen down beside the ledger, a strand of black hair swaying with the subtle shake of his head. “We’ll go to Ravka. You’ll seduce some sorry prince and live happily ever after in a gaudy palace. I’ll make my fortune snagging the Lantsov Emerald and use it to hire a proper bookkeeper. Deal?” 
Your lips twitch, still hugging his glove to your chest. “King,” you correct him. 
His eyes roll, but a flicker of something warm betrays his affection. “Pest,” he calls you, though it doesn’t sound like much of an insult. 
“I imagine the Grand Palace has fine exterminators,” you muse. 
“Then I suppose your marriage will be short-lived.” 
“Will you save me, then?” Your heart leaps with the question, how it slips from your tongue before you can grasp it. 
Kaz hesitates. Then—remarkably—smiles. 
“Maybe.”
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a/n - you know what they say. a bottle of kvas is never just a bottle of kvas, amirite
(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞
anyways, i was procrastinating an essay and thought "lets write something with a somewhat ambiguous ending!" and voila, a boy's first pest is the product. now everyone say: lainie, go work on your original writing and stop writing so much fan fiction! (but i'm already thinking of a kaz smut drabble so) anyways, comments and reblogs much appreciated, i cry with joy every time someone actively interacts with my work so THANK YOU
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railingsofsorrow · 1 month ago
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Back To Normalcy
[JJ Maybank x reader]
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summary: JJ often caught your unfocused gaze drifting to a random corner, lost inside your head. After Morocco, he noticed that a lot.
pairing: jj maybank x f!reader
w.c: 2.8K
warnings/content: near death experiences (flashbacks); obx4 ending is discussed (as in graphic descriptions of what happened so be aware); jj being the best whipped boyfriend; PTSD is hinted; hurt/comfort (trust me, no one dies); paragraphs in italics are flashbacks.
A/N: this is kind of a fix-it and it is set after the pogues find the blue crown. it will have discrepancies regarding canon cause I didn't watch obx4 part 2. bear with me. I'm editing this in the middle of class lol. merry christmas to those who celebrate and a happy new years!!!
navi
masterpost
obx masterlist
request me something
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“So it's like... We gotta think of everything. Yeah, we found it, but we gotta—”
“... Have a solid plan, yeah, Pope.” John B cut him off, earning a glare which made the edge of his lips quirk up in amusement. If there was one thing the Pogues had fun in doing, that thing was annoying Pope Heyward. It was just too easy. “Sorry, sorry.” The Routledge boy raised his arms, pretending to surrender but the grin in his mouth betrayed him. John B never felt the will to smile more than he did in that moment. He had his friends. His family. With him. Safe and sound. Finally. Everyone in one piece. Barely. . . And back home. What more could he ask for?
What more could any of them ask for, really?
You tuned out the conversation for the tenth time that night. You loved bonfires. Especially the ones where your friends organized, where you felt at home around their stupid jokes and drunk laughter.
But you couldn't focus tonight. Somehow you always ended up right back in the scalding sand of Morocco, blood sipping through your fingers as tried desperately to stop it. Your screams of agony even though you weren't the one stabbed echoed through your brain like you had worked hard to memorize it.
You'd rather it had been you, actually. No doubt about that.
The soft nudge in your leg made you step out of the infusion of bad memories your head had conjured up. As your eyes adjusted to the bonfire's flames, you noticed all your friends staring at you in expectancy.
“What?”
Instead of the nudge, you felt cold fingers come in contact with your thigh and you almost flinched at the coldness — that coldness — before you caught the beer bottle in his hand. With a gentle squeeze to your thigh, JJ brought you back to Earth.
“I was just tellin' them here,” he began, leaving his beer aside to scoot closer. “how I'm gonna kidnap you to South America any moment now.”
“Hey.” You forced your breathing to slow down. He didn't need you freaking out now, he needed you to be on your best sane behavior, that's what JJ needed. He needed you. “Jay? Baby, take a deep breath, it's alright.”
“He, um...” JJ's shaky hands reached yours and you shook your head when his fingers curled around your bloody ones in his stomach. “I can't— You—”
“I'm here. It's okay. It's gonna be okay, yeah? You just, you just have to keep breathing. Slowly, like me? Okay?”
Where was everybody?
“And how are you gonna do that?” You forced out, taking a long sip of your beer in a foolish attempt of drowning the memories in your head.
Sarah let out a snicker and Cleo's thick accent scolded somebody but you couldn't bring yourself to the present moment. No, you were still fucking there.
“Pope!” You bellowed now unable to control the shakiness of your hands as they tried to stop the blood. So much blood. So much blood. Why? “John B! Where is— Kiara! Baby, hey, hey!” You used one of your hands to grab his cheek, tilting his head to look at you, his half-lidded eyes showed you how weak he was. You didn't care that his pretty face was smeared with your bloody hands, you had to make him stay awake. “JJ? JJ!”
He blinked with difficulty, gazing up at you. “Hi...” And he had the decency to smile. He smiled! How can someone who has been stabbed smile and it takes your breath away the same away? You never thought you'd see his last smile and you shouldn't even be thinking of that because you both are young and have a whole life ahead of you so why would you be thinking of your boyfriend's last smile?
“Hey.” You cried out. “J, you gotta stay awake for me, okay? I'm getting help. You just have to—”
“I love you.”
Certainly, your whole body froze right at that second. That hadn't been the first time he said it, no. JJ made sure to let you know he loved you thousands of times ever since he said the three little words for the first time. And every time he said it, you felt the warmth of his arms around you, his sunbathed skin against yours and the softness of his lips curling in his favorite spot on your neck after a long day.
That's what “I love you” means when JJ says it.
Except now there was no warmth because he felt cold. Everything regarding him was cold. The kind of coldness a boy with the sun in his smile shouldn't have. There was no smile, not the same smile, at least. There was no life because your favorite boy was saying goodbye and that's what his words meant this time.
Coming back to the bonfire was almost as if a bucket of cold water had been splashed in your face. Your friends had vanished. Nobody was around but you.
“Hey.”
. . . And JJ.
You should've thought he wouldn't have left you alone.
“Hey,” you offered him a half-assed smile. “Where's everyone?”
“Inside.” He mentioned towards the house with a jerk of his head before turning back to you. His cerulean eyes studied your frame for a bit before he let out a sigh, standing up and outstretching a hand in your direction.
You stared at it and him with a raise of your brow. A question.
There was nothing JJ hated more than waiting. So, he didn't wait. He lowered fully to kiss your lips since you were sitting down, enjoying the way they parted in surprise. Stealthily, he wrapped an arm behind your back and beneath your knees and before you could react he pulled you up as if you weighted a penny.
“Jesse James Maybank!”
Oh, he was well aware he was in deep shit when you say that but hell, he missed having a reaction from you that was something other than forced smiles and blank stares.
JJ often caught your unfocused gaze drifting to a random corner, lost inside your head. After Morocco, he noticed that a lot.
“Not the government name, babe.”
“Dude, put me down.”
A gasp. “And now I've been called dude what has this world become!”
He halted near the water, after walking across the beach for a few long minutes with you in his arms. You just stopped fighting, slapping his butt at every step he took.
“You think it's the drums or somethin'?”
“Could be.”
As he sent a look of disapproval your way once he placed you down on your feet, it pulled a laugh out of you.
His fingers — no longer cold — cupped your cheeks and brought you closer. “Do it again.”
“Do what?”
His eyes carried that glint of pure joy mixed with the ocean blue that would get you hypnotized. You just didn't know why this time.
“Your laugh. Haven't heard it in so long.”
Oh.
“That's not true.” You held his wrists just to feel the warmth of his skin when he began caressing your cheeks.
JJ hummed, the sound a gentle protest against your claim. He's come a long way to know your little tells, so he wasn't not easily fooled. With a glance in your way, he knew the hidden meanings.
“Uh, yeah. It is, babe.”
You pulled your hair behind your ears, burying your toes in the sand as you racked your brain to seek an excuse that would work to get you out of that conversation. Any excuse would do, really. But you feared you used all of them since you came back from Morocco. And he knew that.
“Are you ready to talk about it?”
Your throat bobbed as you swallowed down with difficulty.
“Are you?”
“That's not what I asked.”
You finally glanced up, finding him staring forward at the waves, almost distracted. No, not almost. The look in his eyes, you recognize in yourself when drifted back to two weeks ago and the horror took over your mind. It didn't only happen to the two of you, you remember that every time you caught John B outside in the middle of the night, arms behind his head as he stared at nowhere in particular. Or Sarah, when she would crawl up into your bed saying she missed you but you knew exactly what she meant by that. Or Cleo. Oftentimes you needed to force something out of her given everything she went through otherwise she would shove it all in and then never share. Or Pope, because he lost a lot and yes he would never say he hated the whole chasing gold adventure or Poguelandia but he missed safety and a time when you didn't have to worry about danger at your every corner. He's getting used to peace a little more now. Or Kiara, the girl who was a fighter through and through and would choose her friends over anyone in the world, but she needed reassurance once in a while and you all would coddle her a little when you knew it was time for it.
The look.
They all had it. They all suffered through stuff that made them carry it.
And not talking about it made it worse, you told Cleo that once, but since when did you ever take your own advice?
“Yeah, well, Jayj.” You begin, crossing your arms over your chest as the wind picked up. “It happened to you, not to me. It's you who should be ready to talk about it, not me.”
“I remember the blood in your hands, my blood,” JJ still didn't look at you. He was ready to talk about it, not ready-ready but he could accept what happened. That he almost wasn't here. “I remember your voice asking—pleading for me to not close my eyes—”
“Stop.”
JJ finally turned to you, his lips tugging downwards with sadness. “See? It's you who can't talk about it.”
“You almost died in my arms and you expect me to just accept that as if it was a common occurrence?!” It came out as an accusation but in reality you didn't really blame him. He had no fault whatsoever in being stabbed and almost dying. The fault relayed only on the person who caused this torture on all of you. “I can't...” Your voice cracked with newfound emotion. “I can't imagine living in a world where you're not in it, JJ.”
Before he could speak, you cut him off. The dam had broke and now everything you had been hold it in was going to be unleashed.
“You told me you loved me and then you... You stopped breathing.”
He blinked, brows furrowing in thought. JJ knew there was some things he couldn't entirely recall that day, but he didn't remember that.
“I love you.”
If his heartbeat was faint before, now it was non-existent and if felt like the weight of the world had crumbled down on you.
“Open your eyes,” you begged, grabbing his cheeks as a cry of pain left your lips. He was cold. His eyelids shut as if he was sleeping. He was calm. “JJ, open your eyes!” And that's when you felt something touch your shoulder, different hands and voices beside you. All you could focus was on him. “No, c'mon. Jay. Jay? I didn't—” you held his head to your chest, fully sobbing. It was like your heart was being ripped apart. “I didn't say it back.”
Even if she had told him she loved him as many times before, she hadn't say it one last time in time.
You flinched slightly when you were pulled into a pair of arms, fingers reaching the back of your neck to gently press you against a chest. A beating heart welcomed your ears and you didn't realize you were crying until the sobs must've echoed the entire beach.
“I'm sorry, I don't— I don't remember that.”
Your cries were muffled by his shirt. “It wasn't your fault,” you said, your chest tight. “I wish it hadn't gotten to that point cause it was... Fuck.”
JJ tightened his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into your neck. He was still clearly shaken up by what happened, reasonably so. But seeing you like that... He would've take back every decision he made that took your group to that moment just so you wouldn't have to go through that.
He complained when you pulled back a little, drying your tears to glance up at him. Your lips stretching into a timid smile. A real one.
“I'm glad you're okay.” You said with a nod, exhaling as the fog diminished significantly. “I'm happy. But I'm so deeply sorry that I couldn't do more. That I almost let you—”
“Hey, no, no.” JJ was quick to interrupt your train of thought, grabbing your shoulders. “Do not even go there, alright? Absolutely not. Don't even— babe.” He leaned down to connect your foreheads. “You saved my life. All of you. You really think I'd be fine with going... wherever that I wouldn't be able to annoy the shit out of you? I mean— ow!”
You glared at him after punching his forearm though you weren't upset as soon as he gave you his disarming grin that turned your legs to Jell-O.
“You told me you can't imagine living in a world where I'm not in it, right? Well.” JJ brought your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles as his blue eyes full of life studied you in a serious manner. “I happen to absolutely not want to live in a world without in it either...” He tugged you closer. “It would be boring as hell and that's why I would probably, I don't know, crawl out of whatever grave I was in to tickle your feet during the night.”
“Fuck off.” You groaned with a laugh and he shut you up with a kiss, his hand crawling up on your back to press your closer.
“I can't live without your sounds,” he kissed the edge of your mouth, then moved towards your jaw. “Any of them. I can't live without your smile or seeing your lashes fluttering before you wake up. Or without seeing you when you're pissed at me and you pout the entire time, it just makes me want to kiss you but I know it would earn me a punch in the neck.”
“Yeah it would.”
He chuckled, lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his middle. He held the back of your thighs, thumbs running through your smooth skin.
“Hey.” He said softly, bumping his nose with yours as the waves crashed a few feet away, butting in on your moment. “I love you. And I'm gonna stay in your life for as long as you let me. There will be no stupid rushed goodbyes or near-death experiences that will stop that, alright?” He smiled when you nodded, pressing your lips to his. “Yeah.” He started kissing your whole face then just to listen to the inevitable sound of your laugh again. He could never get tired of it. JJ would crawl out of hell just to hear that sound for the rest of his life.
“And about that South America trip—”
“I'm in.” You said, resting your chin on his shoulder, fingertips scratching his scalp as you stared at the sea. “You can kidnap me to wherever you want.”
His excited laughter echoed in your ears like your favourite song chiming in during a stormy night.
“Oh we're gonna have so much fun.” JJ started rambling on his way back to the house, you in his arms because he refused to put you down. “I'm finally teaching you how to surf! And we can visit all the beaches in Brazil, 'm gonna show you some pictures, it'll be amazin', baby, you'll see.”
“I can't wait.” You mumbled with a kiss to his temple. “Are you just gonna carry me around or...”
“Yes.” He pecked your lips, hands squeezing your waist lightly which earned a proper curse out of you and his usual untamed laugh that you were crazy about. “Just stay put and look pretty.”
You rolled your eyes, wrapping both arms around his neck and didn't complain. Why would you? You had your favorite boy holding you in his arms, rambling about your future plans to South America on his way to your place. You had nothing to complain about.
You just had to get used to getting back to normalcy.
━━━━━━━━━
taglist: @hoeshissworld
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reareaotaku · 6 months ago
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Prank Call
Summary: You keep getting Calls from what you can only assume is a prankster Characters: Yandere! Billy Loomis x Fem! Reader Tw: Pank calls, Horror
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"And now, bend over like this. Stretch out those muscles-"
There's a loud ringing noise, causing you to groan. "Steve, can you get the phone!"
You hear a whine, but ultimately the ringing stops.
"Hello?"
There's some chatter, but you weren't listening. You pulled up your leg towards your chest, as the video instructed.
"Y/n?"
You turn towards your brother, who was holding out the phone towards you. "What?"
"It's for you. If you knew your boyfriend was calling, why would you have me answer the phone?"
"Boyfriend?" You grab the phone from your braindead brother, "Hello?"
"Hello."
You didn't recognize the voice. It was deep and scratchy with a pitch of tone. "Do I know you?"
"You don't know your boyfriend's voice?" There's a chuckle and you can practically hear the smirk. "What's your favorite horror movie?"
You look towards the tv, where the yoga instructor was now in the doggy position, ass up high and sharp edged.
"I don't know. I don't watch much horror."
"Oh, come on, N/n, everyone has a favorite horror movie."
You roll your eyes, sighing deeply, "Hellraiser... I guess?"
"You don't seem like a Hellraiser kind of girl."
"That's the one with the Pinhead guy, right?"
"Yes-"
"Pretty freaky. If that's all, I have to go."
Before the caller could respond, you hung up the phone. It started to ring again, but you went back to your yoga video.
-----
You slam your locker, your brother leaning on the locker next to you, Casey wrapped around his arm.
"And we're planning to go to her house-"
You ignored him, feeling eyes on you. You looked around before spotting the one looking at you, Billy. Billy was a strange guy- Not in a good way. He was your number one suspect of the guy who called...
Though, you doubted he really knew anything about you, so you doubted he'd go out of his way to mess with you.
----
You hum to yourself as you do the dishes. You were alone at home, thankfully. You liked being home alone, because there was no messes made by your disgusting brother and it was quiet.
Ring. Ring.
Scratch that. You groan as you pick up the phone and get annoyed.
"Hello?"
"Y/n, how are you this fine evening?"
You groaned when hearing the familiar voice. "Oh, fuck off you punk and leave me alone."
"Oh, that's no way for a lady to talk."
"Fuck you-"
"If you hang up that phone, I'll kill your brother!"
You stop when hearing muffled screaming. "What do you want?"
"Oh, now you want to play nice? Hmmm... I want to play a game."
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greengoblinswifey · 15 days ago
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Revenge—Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader
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summary— Nicholas gets fired and as an act of revenge, fucks you, his boss’ daughter and sends it to him. based on this request.
warnings— daddy kink, exhibitionism, degradation, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, face slapping, ass slapping, choking, manipulation, recording sex, revenge porn, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink.
a/n— enjoy this as I take a break from spiraling!
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The city below bustled faintly as you sat perched on your father’s desk in his office. He would probably freak seeing you sit on the place he did his work and have his meetings but what he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.
Daddy dearest was away having meetings all morning so being the heir to his empire, you were left in charge of affairs until he returned. The only ‘affairs’ you handled were typing away on your phone combatting your friend’s comments of you being a ‘nepo baby’ and sitting on your father’s desk as if you owned the place. Well, in just a few years you would.
A knock on the large glass door startled you, and you shouted a “Come in!” to indicate to whoever was stood outside could enter. You didn’t even bother to look up from your phone until you heard a deep voice greet you.
Shoes clicked faintly on the glistening tiles after you heard the door shut behind them. “Uh, good morning,” the deep voice said. As you looked up, your jaw fell slightly agape.
Standing a few feet away was nothing short of a Greek God. He was tall, muscles bulging from the tailored suit he was clad in, hair tousled but still neat and dark, beautiful eyes. You were sucker for men’s eyes right after their height.
“It’s afternoon, and s-same to you.” Your voice faltered as the man inched closer with a box in his hands.
His lips pressed together before he gave a tight lipped smile. “Sorry, a lot on my mind. Is your father in the building?”
You shook your head slowly, your eyes raking over his form as his went over yours, only more subtly. “He’s not. You’ll have to speak to me about whatever concerns you have.”
He sighed shaking his head, clearly annoyed but attempting to keep his composure. “Well, I’m just returning these last set of papers and items since your father fired me.”
“Fired you?” Your right eyebrow arched, confusion swirling your mind. How could your father ever fire someone so good looking. He was perfect. “Sit down, tell me what happened,” you continued, sweetly.
He placed the box at his feet and sat on the leather couch positioned right in front of you. With the way you were positioned, one wrong move and he would see the red and black thong barely covering your pussy.
“My name’s Nicholas Chavez,” he started. Nicholas, you could definitely moan that. “I was fired yesterday with no plausible explanation other than budget cuts. I mean no disrespect when I say this but that makes no fucking sense. I’ve worked harder than almost everyone here. I arrive on time and I leave later than everyone else. I’ve given my all to this company and this is how your father repays me?” He was angry, no doubt, and you couldn’t help the pang of guilt and sympathy you felt for him.
“I’m so sorry,” you began, titling your head and biting your lips absentmindedly, though the action didn’t go unnoticed by Nicholas. “I’ll talk to daddy for you, that’s so unfair.”
“Thank you, Y/N, but I don’t think you can change his mind,” he huffed.
Clearly, Nicholas wasn’t aware of the strong hold you had on your father. In his eyes, you could do no wrong. All you had to do was pout and give him those big doe eyes and whatever wish you had would be granted.
You slid off the table seductively and sat beside him, a hand teasingly rubbing his thigh. “It’s gonna be okay, I’ll talk to him and change his mind. Is there anything else you want to get off your chest? Anything I can do to help? You batted your long eyelashes, hand still rubbing his thigh as you felt him relax under your touch.
He turned to look at you, eyes darting to stare at your bare thighs then your lips. “Anything huh?” You nodded slowly, and he inched closer to you. As he spoke, you could feel his warm breath on your face.
“You have the face of an angel and the body of a porn star. I bet after I’m finished with you, I could turn you into one—if you let me.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them and you tried to speak but no sound came out.
What were you doing? Your father didn’t send you here for his ex-employees to speak to you as though you were a piece of meat. But you couldn’t deny, his words left you soaked and eager.
“Not so bold now, are you?” He chuckled darkly, a hand somehow finding its way around your neck as he forced you to look at him. “You’ve been eyeing me since the moment I walked in. You’re a slut, you want this.”
“Nicholas, my father—”
He interjected before you could continue. “Sweetheart, your father isn’t here. That means I can have my way with you and show him he can’t fucking fire me and get away with it.”
He stood, pulling you up by your neck firmly but gently and put you to sit on the desk in the same position he first saw you. An involuntary gasp escaped your lips as his wet tongue slid from your neck up to your ear.
“Fuck, m’gonna have so much fun with you. You’re gonna let me right? You asked if there’s anything you can do to help. This is it.”
Before you could retort, his lips crashed against yours, claiming you in a deep, all consuming kiss. His hand remained around your neck while the other roamed your body, groping your tits before settling on your thigh.
“Fuck, you’re a dream,” he muttered, pulling away just enough to stare at your swollen lips.
“W-we shouldn’t,” you finally managed to say, breath heaving from the intensity of the kiss.
He licked his lips before looking down at the unmistakable sight of you clenching your thighs. “Oh sweetheart, you know we should. Why else would you be clenching your thighs? Now say it.”
Your breathing grew heavier as he pried open your legs, fingers finding your flimsy thong before he ripped it off.
“We should.” Your voice cracked as the cool air from the air conditioner in the office hit your pussy. A smug smirk plastered on Nicholas’ face, his eyes locked on yours while his fingers inched higher until they reached your pussy.
“God, you’re such a slut. You’re soaked,” he chuckled.
Your hand gripped his bicep as two fingers found your heat, giving you no time to adjust. They worked with precision immediately, thrusting and curling as you were forced to look into his dark eyes.
“You’re so fucking tight baby,” he cooed, his fingers speeding up. You didn’t want to admit you were enjoying this but the sound your pussy was making gave you all the confirmation you needed.
Despite your efforts, you let out a low moan the second his thumb connected pressed against clit. His double efforts had you squirming on the table, your legs shaking as his fingers curled then sped up.
“You love this. What would daddy dearest think seeing his slutty daughter get used?”
Before you could stop yourself, you let out a cry, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train as you soaked his fingers and the desk below.
“Fucking hell. Did you really just squirt from me fingering you on your dad’s desk. Oh I’m gonna have so much fun with a slut like you.” His words made you shiver and your head lulled on his shoulder, shame filling you but he wasn’t finished yet. Not even close.
He grabbed you by the hair, pulling you off the desk and shoving you onto your knees. “Unbuckle my belt,” he uttered, tone low and commanding. Your shaky hands went to his pants, unbuckling the belt slowly. You pulled his pants down, eyes widening at the large dent in his boxers. He was hard.
“I didn’t tell you to pull my pants down but since you’re so eager, take my dick out and suck it.” Manipulation was doused in his words but at that point, you didn’t care. Or maybe you did. All you knew was that you were ready to have his dick down your throat. Your shaky hands pulled his boxers down and he sprang free, thick, long and veiny. You had to admit, the minute he walked through the door, you knew a man like him was huge.
“Take it down your fucking throat like a good girl,” he commanded, hands tangling in your braids.
With your gaze locked on his, you slowly took him into your mouth earning a low groan. As you took him deeper, your tongue swirled along the shaft, getting it sloppy the way you knew he liked it.
“Just like that, you’re a pro,” he moaned, his dark gaze staring down at you.
You deep throated him, blessed to have to no gag reflex. Your hands massaged his heavy balls and soon, you picked up a steady rhythm, bobbing your head as your mouth made filthy noises that echoed throughout your father’s office.
“Fuck, I was right. You’re exactly like a pornstar,” he began, now thrusting his hips forward, “such a fucking whore, just slobbering all over my cock.”
Your nails dug into his thighs as he held your hand and brought you down on his cock at the same pace he was thrusting into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly and all you could do was moan in response.
“I love it when a girl moans with my dick in her mouth. You’re so perfect,” he murmured.
At his praises you used as much tongue as you could, gliding it along his thick length as he fucked your throat.
“Fuck sweetheart, I’m gonna cum. And you’re gonna swallow it all. Open up that fucking throat.”
He held you down on his cock, your nose touching his pelvis and you swallowed obediently as soon as his load filled your mouth. He moaned above you, muttering curses as the last of his cum sprayed on your tongue.
He let go of your braids and took ahold of his still hard cock. “Stick that tongue out, let me see.” You did as you were told, sticking your tongue out. He slapped his cock on your tongue and across your cheek, smirking above you. “That’s a good girl, now get up and sit on the desk.”
Rising to your knees, you sat on the desk and he positioned himself in front of you. “Now, I’m gonna give that tight, wet pussy what it’s craving but first, you have to beg me for it.”
You knew exactly what he meant and without missing a beat, you did as instructed. “P-please Nicholas, please, I need your cock.” A small slap interrupted you, whipping your head to the side, though the force wasn’t enough to cause pain.
“Call me daddy,” he growled. Your breath hitched at the pure taboo of his expectations. You called your own father, daddy. And now he wanted you to call him daddy while you begged for him to fuck you in your actual daddy’s office. “C’mon sweetheart, I don’t have all fucking day.”
“Please daddy,” you began, a look of desperation plastered across your face. “I need your cock. Please fuck me daddy.”
He was clearly satisfied and he lined the raw bulbous tip with your leaking entrance. You gasped involuntarily, feeling him slap it on your clit a few times before he pushed inside you.
“So goddamn tight,” he groaned, looking down at your pussy just swallowing him. His hand snaked around your neck once more as you adjusted to size, pussy welcoming him inside your walls.
“Daddy,” you moaned softly, as he began pounding into you. Your moans made him feral and his thrusts reflected it, the desk shaking as he slammed into you, hand wrapped securely around your neck. Your hands went to the back of his neck, clawing and clutching, feeling him repeatedly slam against that sweet spot inside you.
“You love my cock don’t you? You’re a fucking whore for me, c’mon, say it,” he demanded, pounding into you like his life depended on it.
“I love your cock daddy,” you cried out. The whole top floor probably heard your screams but you didn’t care. “I’m a whore for you, I’m your whore daddy!”
“That’s my good girl.” His thrusts grew more frantic and he reached between your bodies, rubbing rough circles on your bundle of nerves as you convulsed and throbbed under his touch.
“Cum on daddy’s cock. Cum on my cock while I fuck you like a slut on your dad’s desk.” You cried out, pussy clamping down on his cock as an intense orgasm took ahold of you. Your entire body shook and your hands went to his ass, pulling him in even deeper as you came on his cock.
“Shit, that’s my good girl, now turn around. I wanna see that ass bounce on my cock.”
He flipped you around effortlessly, pushing you flat on the table as you arched your back. “That’s it, now spread that ass let me see.” You spread your ass open and felt him spit on your pussy before his cock dragged along your folds. He sunk into you from behind, his cock angling even deeper at this angle and he slapped your ass as he began pounding into you.
“God. That fucking ass, you’re so sexy baby,” he muttered, rolling his hips as his pace increased.
You bounced your ass back against him, earning another slap and a deep moan as he fucked you against the desk. You were so caught up in his cock filling you up and hitting all the right spots that you almost missed the bright light out of the corner of your eye. Almost.
“W-what are you doing?” you rasped, still fucking yourself on his hard cock.
“Recording our first memory,” he said, though he tone was tinged with something darker.
You moaned as he slapped your ass, his other hand clutching his phone tightly as he recorded his cock disappearing inside you.
“Who’s making you cream all over his cock? Huh?” he asked, pulling your hair so your back arched even deeper.
“You are daddy! Only y-you!” you cried out, earning a low chuckle.
“That’s a good girl. Such a fucking slut letting me record you getting utterly fucked on your dad’s desk and calling me daddy while you’re at it? God,” he sneered.
Your pussy clenched even tighter around his cock at his words, the stretch burning but pleasurable and you knew you were on the brink of an orgasm.
“Gonna cum on daddy’s cock? Yeah? Beg me,” he growled, angling his phone even closer to your pussy showing just how much wetter you were getting.
“Please daddy. Please can I cum? Please let me cum on your cock, I’m your dirty slut,” you sobbed, tears of pleasure rolling down your cheeks.
“Well since you asked so nicely, cum on my cock,” he urged.
You gripped the edge of the desk, a loud moan escaping your lips as your juices soaked his cock that was pumping inside you. You sobbed from the sensitivity, holding out your hand to slow his movements but he just held it behind your back.
“I’m gonna cum inside this needy pussy. Gonna breed you so the baby that grows inside you can be my ticket to your dad’s empire. Gonna get you fucking pregnant so I can be the father to his grandkids,” he chuckled darkly.
“Breed me daddy,” you croaked out and that was all it took.
Nicholas stilled inside you, his cock throbbing and spurting his seed deep inside your pussy. You moaned, collapsing on the desk as your pussy milked him of every last drop.
A swooshing sound you recognized as the sound an iPhone made when an email was sent snapped you back to reality. Though, you were too fucked out to mention it but it seemed Nicholas read your mind.
“Just a heads up, I sent that little recording of me fucking you to your dad. We’ll see if firing me was worth it,” he said, darkly.
“P-please,” you uttered weakly.
“Oh sweetheart, it’s already done. Daddy will see how much of a fucking slut and pornstar his innocent little girl really is. That’ll fucking show him.”
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿
Tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @nicholaschavezslut69 @rain-likes-purple
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nor-ay · 9 days ago
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Unrequited Love - Part Two
Pure Vanilla Cookie has always had more questions than answers. No matter how hard he tries, once he finds an answer, another doubt will surface in his mind. And that usually motivates him to keep going, but right now he isn’t sure if you want to answer his questions. 
 
He has noticed how your mind has been wandering somewhere far away from them, from him. The way you don’t look at White Lily Cookie in the eye and seem to avoid eye contact with him as much as possible. Pure Vanilla reasons that you are upset; that much is known. 
 
GingerBrave is worried about you; he told him how he found you troubled in the middle of the night. And he told him to keep this to himself to not worry everyone else, reassuring him that he would talk to you. But a part of him is a bit reluctant to do so, especially now that you’re all going to The Spire Of All Knowledge, to annoy you even more. 
 
 
Apple Fairy Cookie has kindly led you all to an inn in the middle of the woods. She doesn’t give you a good feeling, you think. You figure that it’s her high-pitched voice or the way that it’s really obvious how she’s scheming something, and you’re uneasy. So you abruptly get up to go outside, praying that nobody calls you out on it. 
 
“[name] Cookie? Is everything…” White Lily Cookie seems to think for a brief moment. “I mean, are you going somewhere? Would you like company?” 
 
You appreciate the effort she puts into trying to act as if you’re friends. And that, strangely enough, makes you a bit more frustrated, so you hide your hands behind you and feel how your fingernails dig into your palms. “I’ll be just outside; please don’t worry, and… I—I don’t need company.” So you get out of the inn and walk for a bit, not too far away, but far enough so that you’re alone. 
 
Fresh air always calms you down, so you sit down on the floor and close your eyes while hugging your knees, to comfort yourself for a while. A minute or two passes, and you feel something poking at your leg. Startled, you speak before comprehending that facing you is not a Cookie but a cute blue rag doll. “What do you—who? Uh…” You’re not sure of what to do, and before you can question its provenance, its little hands offer you an alluring and stunning gem hair clip—blue as well. You notice how the doll has a ringmaster suit and a jester hat that reminds you of him.
 
“Oh my…Is this for me?” The little doll nods profusely. “… Thank you, but… I don’t have anything I can give you in return, you know that, right?” It doesn’t seem to matter because the blue rag doll puts the hair clip in your hands and bows dramatically like a host of some sort before disappearing. 
 
“…” 
 
“[Name] Cookie!!” You hear your name being called, and GingerBrave is happily waving at you. “Come on, we’re going to the tower! Time for an adventure.” A smile makes its way into your face, and it feels the most genuine for the first time in a long time. As you walk towards the group, you put on the beautiful hair clip. Not realizing who could have made it reach you, or rather, not caring anymore. 
 
Apple Faerie Cookie squeals when she sees the ornament placed on your hair. “So pretty!! How did you get it, [Name] Cookie?” 
 
“Oh, this? A kind villager gifted me this hair clip. The nicest Cookie I’ve ever met, I must say.” You lie, and almost miss the smug smirk that appears on Apple Faerie Cookie’s face. “But enough of that! We have a place to explore, isn’t that right, Pure Vanilla Cookie?” 
 
“R-Right, well, shall we get going now?” Pure Vanilla answers, though he seems a bit fixated on the blue gem decorating your hair. In the background, you hear GingerBrave, Strawberry, and Wizard Cookie expressing their eagerness to learn as much as possible. 
 
While you all continue on the path that Apple Faerie Cookie leads, a feeling of contentment fills your heart, and you find yourself waiting for something to happen. All while White Lily Cookie observes how the ornament on your head starts shining even more brightly every time you all get closer to the tower.  
Thank you all for reading!! And for the support on my first fic ever. I’ve written this inspired by the last episode of Beast-Yeast, so if you want to understand this a bit better you should play it! So, there won't be a part 3 but I do have some ideas for some drabbles.
Chapter 3 - Part 1
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