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princesssmars · 4 months ago

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alone together

a karlach x princess!reader.

in the blink of eye, you go from a carefree heir to a throne to a damsel in distress stuck in a tower. but there's a strange woman stuck with you, and maybe you can make each other a little less lonely.

wc : 8,655

contains: fxf. fem!reader. skin color not described. fluff. some light angst. smut. g!p karlach. oral and penetrative sex.

a/n: fuck that poll i'll do TWO fics for her i never cared! karlach has a little soldier because those bg3 mods have affected my brain and i need her to take me to pound town. sorry i rushed the ending i need this fic out NOW. enjoy :3

throughout history, many tales have been written about the failures of monarchs.

there was thaymor the vain, whose search for everlasting youth to sustain his envied beauty led to him making a deal with faeries for a youth spell, but they didnt tell him he would absorb this youth from his entire family, killing his lineage in only a few short years.

atreyu the acceptable, whose father went from being the hero who defended his village from raiders to the king who turned it into a flourishing kingdom, while the most his son accomplished was developing a new bread recipe in the palace kitchens. to be fair, it was rather tasty. bit too many nuts.

but the one story you loathed the most was cassara the chilled. a young, beautiful, and promising young princess who was locked in her room for nearly half a year as punishment for a false accusation of pushing her brother, the crown heir, down a flight of stairs. in her lonesome and desperation, she had turned to dark magic to sustain herself, and by the time her parents found her, she was a cold and petrified shell. nothing more than a glamorous statue.

you would read these stories in the palace library and, admittedly a bit morbidly, laugh to yourself. your family line was known for its intelligence and charisma, able to control your kingdom with ample care for its citizens and contributing greatly to its numerous advancements.

it'd been this way for decades - so how on earth were your parents so damned stupid?

you had noticed things like this before. the pair of them listening too closely to what citizens had to say while holding court. a few years back a fanatical farmer had told them he saw a sign from one of his gods that unless the kingdom slaughtered half its cows it would be leveled, and the king quickly gave the order. then it was later revealed that the farmer had eaten some contaminated mushrooms he had found on his farm and didnt even worship any gods.

the kingdom ate a lot of chicken that year. some of the court mages used spells to increase the egg output from the livestock to make up for it, which led to you quitting the meat for two years. those magic chickens were...odd.

but besides that, your life was nothing short of amazing. you were the only child and the crown heir, so even though you had the unbearable weight of the heavily bejeweled crown in your future, with all the luxuries you were afforded like dresses, jewelry, lavish balls, and dinners, it was very much worth it.

on a day when you had political tutoring instead of attending court, your parents must have done something to piss someone off, because the next time you came in you'd never seen a citizen have such nerve. it was an old woman dressed in black rags and holding a weird-looking staff, most likely a witch.

your family had no qualms against magic wielders as far as you knew, seeing any amount of help to grow their empire as worthwhile. but that changed when she aimed her stick at your parents and spoke.

"your contempt for life that does not fit your 'purpose' is an affront for everything your kingdom supposedly stands for. a kingdom i helped your ancestors build. and all i asked in return is for you to remember my terms. to not disrespect me after all i've done. but you have failed. and for this you must be punished."

you were going to call her insane, call the guards to seize her and make an example out of anyone who would threaten and say such baseless claims about your family. you had heard the story of how your ancestors built this kingdom from the ground up hundreds of times, and not once was it mentioned that they received help from a witch.

you weren't afforded time to think it over when her staff pointed at you, her gaze making your blood run cold. the trinkets and bones attached to the end of the warped dark stick brimming with glowing tendrils of magic.

"your daughter, such beauty, such grace, such a beacon of what your family stands for," she taunts and moves her head side to side as she mocks you. "i will give you a choice. your daughter or your kingdom."

you scoff at her and the panicked whispers from the commoners and guards around you. this is bullshit. for all you knew she was nothing but a druid playing dress up, most likely hurt that her flower farm was torn up in one of your father's recent expansion projects.

"this is crazy, we all know this is crazy, right?" your head whips to stare at your parents, who won't even look you in the eye. you start to feel sick, refusing to believe for a second that they could actually be considering this. "mother, father!"

your father raises his hand and the room goes quiet. he stands, an imposing figure by himself, and his cloaks and crown make him more so. the family crest glimmers from his chest, a golden dragon with its wings bared. you try to remember what it stands for to quell the fear in your chest.

your family is strong, your family has knowledge that goes beyond others, your family is more powerful than this pathetic pretender-

"please, just...just don't hurt her, we beg."

your eyes strain at the sight of your father, the king, on his knees with his hands clasped together.

he's pleading with her. this woman is threatening your life and he's begging to her.

you only manage to have one last thought before you're enclosed in a cloud of black and feel your body being ripped through space.

your family is fucking stupid.

your new life is far from what you're used to, but you become suspicious of how pampered elisia - the hag - has made everything for you.

you live in a tower, a tall and black and imposing thing that if you weren't a damn hostage you'd probably think thrice about entering. it stood at the top of an abandoned keep you think you'd heard of in another bedtime story, something about an ogre and a damsel…whatever.

elisia had made it extremely clear that there would be no way for you to escape. her magic would keep the place functional while she was gone; the dark halls lit up, kitchen stocked, library filled. but try to navigate the gigantic lower level that led to the exit and you’d end up in an endless loop that left you feeling dizzy enough to give up for the day.

(for good measure the keep was also situated on a crumbling mountain above a pit of actual lava. have to applaud her efficiency.)

but then you asked if she had planned on you going insane, as would eventually happen if you were left here alone.

the sound of her cackle rang in your head for a few days.

‘what makes you think you're alone in here?’

the cloth of your bed was soft, the gentle canopy making you long for the glamorous and full one you'd had at home. but even the mocking familiarity couldn’t rouse you into sleep that night. every tumble of a rock echoed throughout the halls of the prison that was now your home, making vomit rise in your throat as you remembered the witch’s words.

you tried to calm yourself down, convincing yourself she only alluded to another thing being here to scare you. for the first day you tried to follow your daily schedule as well as possible. wake up, clean and dress yourself, eat some breakfast, focus on hobbies and interests, tea in the garden, etcetera.

but to say it was a struggle is an understatement. you forgot how everything was made easier by your maids and lady’s in waiting, having issue with just doing your hair alone. you didn’t even want to begin on breakfast, fighting with the damned bewitched oven and settling for a fruit salad.

and so you stick to reading, it’s not like you need help doing that. it reminds you of when you were younger and your governess would call out “sick” and when a replacement was being prepared you’d wait on the cushy classroom chaise and read and read and read until your eyes started to hurt.

and now you’ve resorted to reading a cookbook. you’re halfway through a recipe for grilled cheese when you hear it, the displacement of rock in the walls and a dull, eerie humming. you feel the goosebumps rise on your skin and try your best not to let your fear show as you pass a quick glance up at the doorway.

and an eye is staring right back at you.

the book falls from your hands and hits the ground with a hard smack, throwing you from holding the eyes gaze as you make sure it’s alright before looking back at the doorway, only to find nothing there.

this is getting weird. and unsettling. and annoying. and so you muster up all the foolish courage you can, pick your dress up by the hem, and chase after the creature.

you recognize it’s not the smartest idea, chasing after something potentially dangerous and definitely stalking you. but if it’s resorted to staring at you from doorways it can’t be prone to violence. hopefully. curse your father for burdening you with his impatience. and dimwittedness, apparently.

whatever the thing is its fucking fast, tucking and weaving around corners almost faster than you can keep up with.

(you mentally thank your fitness educator for making you routinely run laps around the gardens when you became too lazy for your parents liking back when you were twelve. sucks you’ll never see her again, she was always funny.)

the mysterious being messes up and you cheer to yourself when you hear it stop itself from crashing into the wall.

“hah! looks like you’ve-“

gods above you must look like a dunce, panting in the middle of this dark hallway as you stare at the big bad that was staring at you in your entrapment. but it’s not what you expect. it’s not a monster, or a creature, or the angel of death here to free you from the torment of boredom.

it’s a woman. a devil woman. a very large and disturbingly attractive devil woman.

gods above, you’d been involuntarily celibate for far too long.

it’s clear she’s not going to start conversation first, appearing as if she’d rather sink into the walls themselves than explain herself to you.

“are we going to keep staring at each other or are you going to explain why you’re stalking me?”

“i’m not stalking you!” she blurts, clearly annoyed by your accusation. well, if she only responded to being called a pervert you’d just have to deal with that.

“you were standing in the doorway and ogling me as i was reading, sounds pretty stalkerish to me.”

“that’s not- i wasn’t ogling-“

“and you’ve clearly been in here with me a while, i’ve heard that weird humming and seen that light before. why not introduce yourself if you weren’t being a creep?”

“i’m not a stalker! i’m supposed to be here!” her eye twitches and you figured you’ve pushed her far enough to the truth. you didn’t want to annoy her too much, the giant woman looked like she could snap you in half with ease.

no, don’t think about that. stop staring at her muscles. stop it-

maybe she notices your silence or maybe she notices how you are not no politely checking her out, because she takes the infernal axe off her back, - which you hadn’t even noticed, survival skills going down the drain - sets it gently on the ground, and slowly starts to walk towards you.

you try your best not to show weakness or fear as she approaches, clearly trying to show you she doesn’t mean to harm you. she could have easily harmed you earlier when you chased her like a mad woman through the keep, and you start to feel a bit flushed with embarrassment.

“i can kind of explain why i’m here, if you’d like. somewhere more comfortable preferably.”

she leads you back to the kitchen and the whole time your eyes never leave her body, taking in every detail you can to try to piece together her story.

she has numerous scars starting from her face and trailing down her body, the gaps in her leather outfit letting you see the raised veins and literal vents in her arm and shoulder. add the injuries and incredibly well defined muscles together and it’s not hard to figure this woman is no strain her to hard battle, and could easily overpower you if she so desired.

(yet again you have to trample your inner libido at the thought. you need to get out of this place and fast.)

once in the kitchen, you both shit down and you listen as she tells you everything you want to know, answering every question you have without failure.

“what’s your name?”

“karlach. named after my mum. what’s yours?”

“princess y/n of tuquestia. are you a devil?”

“an actual princess, eh? here i thought that old witch was exaggerating. and no, i’m a tiefling. blame the burning skin and engine on that bitch downstairs mizora.”

“mizora? why the hell would you get mixed up with her?”

“i didn’t ask to. it’s a long story. i think your foods burning, love.”

“gods damn it. whatever. why are you here? how long have you been here?”

“guess that wicked witch is old buddies with my devil because they made some bet way back when that if she managed to screw over some kingdom they both hate mizora would give up one of her best soldiers to help her.”

“so what, your an extra ounce of protection to make sure i don’t jump out of a window?”

“guess i am. and please don’t, wouldn’t end well for either of us.”

after an hour of trying to make a simple meal and glaring at karlach whenever she’d tease you, a warmth bloomed in your chest uncaused by the infernal being across from you. until that point you had pondered when the effect of the endless days of loneliness would seep in, when you'd start talking to visions in your mind before slowly going insane.

but now you had karlach. big, loud, always yapping karlach.

you didn't have many friends back home. you had your handmaidens who were respectful but always too careful, brief flings from when you snuck out to the local towns taverns and polite conversations with visiting monarchs and royals. but never a true friend.

so you’re unable to tell if the way karlach acts is…normal. it’s not like she’s just standing behind and watching you as you try to live your life during the day. not that you’d mind that much.

it’s quite the opposite; she’s always talking. maybe it’s because during your first conversation you made a one off comment of resorting to talking to an old teddy bear you’d found in your closet for company, but there doesn’t go a minute where’s she doesn’t just strike up a conversation with you.

she asks what your home is like, how did you grow up, what it was like to be a princess (that ‘was’ stung more than you expected), if you ever had any pets, any friends, a boyfriend.

you’d snorted at that, telling her if there’s one thing you were grateful to your parents for it was respecting your preference for women. she goads you to go on and listens intently to your story of the time you and a neighboring princess got caught in the quite the situation behind one of the curtains at a large gala…

you figure it’s only polite to ask her all of her questions back, and clearly it’s the right option since each time you do her face lights up almost literally and she animatedly explains every little detail of her life and adventures before she got screwed over and stuck in avernus.

and oh, avernus. if there’s one thing to smack you into reality it’s when she finally deems you trustworthy enough to tell you how exactly she’d become one of mizoras best. you were not the least bit surprised that someone like gortash would screw her over.

(you’d only met him once at your parents invitation and faked food poisoning when he had asked you for a dance. karlach laughed so hard at that her fingers scorched the table you were sitting at. it felt in that moment that you’re stomach was even warmer than her.)

but when she explained everything after he gave her up, the pain of being taken from her home, having her heart replaced, turned into a killing machine and mistaken for a devil, your heart ached. all you wanted was to reach out and touch her, to place at least a comforting hand on her shoulder, but another pain she felt was going without contact with anyone because of her engine.

your old sociology instructor would weep in joy if she could see you know, mourning for the life of someone you just met could have had. all you wanted wasnt to escape this tower, or to wear the latest dress made custom by your tailor and drink some of the not sneakily hidden wine in the kitchens stone walls. it’s just to make her feel better.

so you come up with a plan. probably not the smartest one, but the only one that’ll get you results quickly.

you go about the morning as normal. wake up, clean yourself, meet karlach in the kitchen for breakfast. easy peasy.

now there’s just manning up and going through with this. you had told karlach you were making omelets, the tiefling practically bouncing in her seat as she cleaned off her axe while she wanted. as soon as you could tell she was distracted, you raised the vegetable cutting knife to your hand, took on a deep breath, and then-

“fuck!” her head jerked up at your cry, body standing up on automatically as she watched you cradle your hand to your chest and keel over. she goes to place a hand on your back to help you up and see what’s wrong when she stops herself, so close she can nearly feel the fabrics of your dress brush against her skin.

“damn it, princess. um, ok, it’s not too deep, i’ll get you a towel.” she rushes around the kitchen, searching for a piece of cloth to help you with your wound. but once she sees one sitting not even two feet from you by the fireplace, she’s stopped from alerting you by a swooshing air coming in from the hall, specks of magic floating through the air.

“what on earth are you doing?” elisia‘s voice comes out in a screech, looking like a cloud of darkness as her tall frame draped in black cloaks moves into the kitchen with a quickness. she’s just as quick to dig her nails into your wrist and bring your injured hand up to her face, ignoring your whimper that sends a pang of worry into karlach.

“what, are you turning into an idiot like your father? how can you be so inept?”

“ok ok, it was just an accident!”

she spits out a curse in a language you don't understand and drops your wrist, ignoring your grunt of pain. “the whole point of this is for you to be trapped here, not for you to end your life because of pure foolishness.”

her eyes zip to karlach, and you admire how the tiefling doesn't stand down to the hag's piercing gaze, squaring her shoulders almost like she is preparing for a fight.

“you. did you forget about our precious zariel’s little gift?” elisia smiles down at karlach’s chest, which noticeably glows brighter as her frustration rises. “one touch and you could have burned it closed. do you enjoy watching my hostage bleed out on the stone?”

“i don't think making her pass out and likely die from excruciating pain is in your plans either. i can't help her if i can't touch her without endangering her life!”

the echo of her booming voice leads to an eerie silence, both of you waiting for what elisia says next. your eyes meet from across the room, glowing amber trailing down to your hand before you give a quick nod to let her know you’re okay.

elisia groans, tapping her staff on one of the sturdy counters. “fine. what do you need in order to do what you’re here for?”

”i…i need an engine upgrade. just enough to be able to make contact.” you can't help but notice the tick in karlach’s voice, a slight glimmer of hope at just the idea that she’ll be able to touch someone again, even if it’s just you.

“you’ll still be able to use it as protection, yes?”

karlach nods, and after a few seconds of contemplation, the witch wordlessly disappears into a plume of smoke.

“do you think she’ll consider it?” you question, voice strained as the stinging of your palm reaches a new high. in a rush the woman is collecting the things needed to take care of your wound, gesturing for you to sit on top of the table while she helps as much as she can without hurting you further.

“focus on me, yeah? it’ll be over in a second.” she holds a bottle of alcohol over your hand waiting for your confirmation that she can pour it on the slash to sterilize it. you wish you could say you reacted gracefully, but based on her facial reaction it’s safe to assume the sound you cried was anything but pretty. quickly she guides you to dry it off and wrap it in a bandage, a sigh of relief escaping you when the would is properly covered.

“thank you. sorry if i made you worried, didn’t mean to cut so deep. still not very good with knives.”

“of course i worried, you’re - wait, you did this on purpose?”

you give her a sheepish smile as she stares at you in shock, eyes darting from your hand to multiple spots on your face before she bursts into a loud laughter, your body going stark straight from the surprise of her mood shifting so suddenly.

“glad to know i was right about there being something more than air in that head of yours, princess. now i’m aware you’re also crazy.”

“hey, it worked didnt it? now you’ll get your engine upgrade, and you’ll finally be able to touch me.”

“yeah looking forward to wrangling your stubborn ass from trying to find more secret tunnels in your bedroom.”

“i know they exist! what keep doesn’t have a secret tunnel?”

you’re thrown into a playful argument about how she’s certain that secret tunnels that you remembered dearly from your old castle wouldn’t be in every type of royal origin, while you try to persuade her it’s basically an untold law for building a keep.

all the while she’s trying to ignore how the light of the fireplace brings out the warmness of your skin, while you decide not to bring up how to the idea of touching you made her bite her lip and stutter her breath.

karlach gets her upgrade sooner than later, the itch appearing with a nice but scared-looking tiefling who uses a strange-looking metal to fix karalch up. you can tell she's trying to stay calm through the endeavor, not wanting g to risk the poor man due to her excitement. and the whole time you stay by her side, eyes trained on the rather strange way the procedure is done.

but once its done she stands there, almost unable to believe what she hopes to be true. she turns her body to face yours, eyes near begging for either of you to do something when you wrap your arms around her neck and push your body into hers.

and gods, is she warm. like cuddling up with a wool blanket in bed during the chilling midsts of winter. you can tell your sudden act of affection scared her at first, but once she realizes whats happening she wraps her arms around your waist so tightly it feels like shes trying to fuse you into one.

you hear elisia in the back, groaning at the act before leaving with the stranger in a hurry. when their footsteps are no longer heard karlach lifts your body up with ease, twirling you around before setting your body back to the floor.

her chest is having, excitement coursing through her body as flames rise and retreat from the vents in her shoulders.

“i cant believe it. i never thought i would- that you and i could-”

she cuts herself off with the most joyous laugh you've heard from her yet, pulling you into another hug and burying her face into your shoulder, minding not to scratch you with her horn.

its almost adorable how cuddly karlach becomes after that; a giant war fighting barbarian nervously asking if she can receive a random hug in the middle of the day, standing behind you as she makes sure you're following the steps of a recipe you found, even indulging you when you ask for her hands to warm your stomach when your moon week arrives.

only two weeks after her upgrade do you realize that you have feelings for her. maybe you've known for longer, only denying it in the fear that you'd lose the only true friend you'd ever had. even if she didn't return your affections, the reasonable part of you knew she would never turn you down in a harsh way. but you knew yourself, and knew the embarrassment would lead to you distancing yourself from her and ignoring her at any chance possible, which was the opposite of what both of you needed at this time.

you try your hardest not to make it obvious, but when she catches your eyes lingering on her a few times too long she decides she cant ignore it any longer, choosing to finally have that long awaited talk with you before you head to sleep.

she was escorting you from the library back up to your room for the night, gently guiding you with a large palm on your back while your attention was focused on a book you had found deep in the history shelves. it was endearing, how you'd pay little attention to where you were going and nearly trip over a stair before cursing it under your breath.

“i knew you were a bit of a history buff, darling, but you cant exactly learn if you give yourself a concussion.” karlach smiles.

you don't reply, mumbling something about being too engrossed in the text. with a choked back laugh she shakes her head and bends down to pick you up, one arm under your back and the other under your legs. she can see your eyes widen over the edge of the pages before going back to what you were doing. once she reaches your door she not-so-delicately kicks it open before placing you on your bed, bending down to start helping you take off your slippers.

once she's done she starts to look up at you when she takes a quick glance around your room. she’s only been in here a few times, when you’d fall asleep hunched over a tome in the library and she had to gracefully put you in your bed. there isn’t much in here save for the bed and a simple closet. but her eyes catch on the tally’s you’ve been keeping on the wall, inching closer and closer to the three month mark.

she starts to second guess herself. why would you have any feelings other then basic ones of friendship with her, a barbarian ordered to prevent you from leaving a tower you were trapped in? as much as you tried to hide it it was clear how much you missed your home, your parents, the grand lifestyle in which you were raised.

she’s about to make a quick exit after asking if you need anything else when you're doing it again: staring into her soul like you apparently so enjoy doing.

“is there anything else you need, princess?”

you feel a sharp pull below your stomach, not expecting the effect her words would have on your body, only increased by the feel of her large hand still around your ankle, the heat radiating from her and hitting you full force as whatever shes feeling grows in intensity. you gently reach a hand up to feel over the ridges of her cut horn, down to the slit in her eyebrow and the shaved cut of her hair. the whole time she waits, chest rising and falling as she tries to keep her composure while your touch continues its journey down and down until your gentle fingers are grazing over the curve of her nose and her lips.

you finally kiss her, and despite how damned good it feels she can't help but feel bad about how desperately she wants so much more. with all the carefulness she can muster she kisses you deeper, pulling you to the edge of the bed so that your legs are on both sides of her body.

“karlach, please…” you whine out into the quiet room, eyes closed at the bliss of her pressing her body closer to yours, her mouth deciding to start kissing down your throat when you stop kissing her to speak her name. not like she seems to mind, for every time you moan out her nails dig into the fat of your hips through your dress.

“gods, i’m so glad i was right. knew you wanted me, i had hoped you did.” her words are muffled by a quick bite to your throat, her mind going blank at the high pitched moan you let out at the press of her sharp teeth into your skin. she sucks a few more marks into the flesh before dragging her tongue in a line from the bottom of your neck back to your chin, staring into your eyes once she stops.

“clothes. clothes off, now.”

she obeys your demand, standing straight up to start working at her boots before tugging off her shirt like it’ll burn her, your slight giggling doing nothing to help her speed. once she’s done she looks back down at you, rolling her eyes to the sight of you laid pretty on your stomach, arms cushioning your head as you wait for her to undo the basic laces on your dress.

“you really are a spoiled princess, huh?” karlachs deep laugh does nothing to stop the need growing inside you, and neither does the feel of her hands ghosting over your back.

“don’t be mad just because i know my worth, brute.”

you can only let out a gasp when her fingers dig into the fabric and rip it down the middle, yanking the ruined dress out from under you. she waste no time in getting you into the position she wants, spreading your legs apart and pushing you down by the middle of your back.

“if i’m being too rough you’ll tell me, yeah?” you weakly nod your head from its place in your covers, but with a small pinch to the left cheek of your ass you know that was the wrong answer. “give me words, baby.”

“yeah, yes, fuck i will.” you don’t have time to be embarrassed by the desperation in your voice, since as soon as the affirmation leaves your mouth her fingers are spreading apart the lips of your cunt and licking a hard slow line up into you.

if she wasn’t explicitly put inside this keep to keep you safe you would have thought she was trying to kill you in the most euphoric way possible. she eats you like she’s starving and isn’t sure when she’s going to eat again. you then remember that before you the last time she slept with someone else was back when she was free in baldurs gate, so a decades worth of longing and lust has been steadily building inside her body.

and now she’s going to take all of it out on you. the thought just makes more cum run down your legs, eagerly caught by the hot mass of her tongue.

you thought she’d be more talkative but instead she’s laser focused on your center; she spreads you farther and farther to get a better view of you, rubbing at your clit with her wide thumb before pinching it when you wiggle your hips back at her. she ignores your whines in favor for drawing those deep sounds from the inside of your chest when she takes the bud inside her mouth and sucks, pulling roughly until your legs start to shake.

“karlach, fuck ‘m close, ‘m close!”

“that’s it, come on princess, cum for me. cum so i can split you open around me and make you mine.”

and like she’s a god that commands it you do, back arching near painfully as your hands fist the sheets and your throat goes raw with the force of your moan bordering on a scream. the whole time she refuses to slow down, sucking even harder as you cum so hard you fear you’ll pass out.

a minute later your high starts to die down, slick covering your thighs and a light sheen of sweat coating the rest of your body. you knew you’d been pent up these past few weeks with only your hand and pillow for satisfaction, but that was…intense.

you feel karlach pressing light kisses to your backside, leaving more little bites and marks around your hips and up your back. she briefly settles her body on top of yours, and while the weight and feel of her sends fireworks up to your brain and down to your cunt, the warmth of her is making the sweat on your back feel even worse, a pout forming on your lips.

“mmm, you’re hot.”

“glad you noticed.” she laughs, the deep timber of it rumbling through her body and into yours. for a brief second, you think you’d like to feel it for the rest of your life. the thought of it only makes you more desperate, trying to burrow your face deeper into the bed.

“think you can handle another? or does the princess need her bath and rest already?”

with a newfound determination, you try your best to lift her off of you, pushing your hips back into hers in the hopes she’ll feel enough pity to give in and roll off of you. instead, you get the opposite, both of you moaning at the grind of your ass against her groin. and fuck, does she feel big. bigger than you've ever taken, and there were some heavy hitters at the tavern you'd frequently sneak out to. soldiers who were big and strong and looking for a pretty thing to make their troubles go away for the night.

and now you had the upgraded model of all of them combined in front of you, lips still covered in your cum as she stared at your body like she wanted nothing more than to get her hands on it and not let go until she was fully sated. you crane your neck back and up to kiss her, tasting yourself as the two of you share a sweet yet intimate kiss, tongues fighting for dominance before you give up and let her win, hips continuing to buck when her long muscle pushes its way into your mouth and starts to explore.

you can only hold on to your small amount of patience for so long, and karlach starting to suck and bite at your tongue isn't helping in the slightest. your hands desperately reach up to grab at her, any part of her you can reach. you grasp helplessly at her large hand that's gently wrapped around your throat, her claws just barely scratching the sides. she squeezes the tiniest bit and you nearly cum from that alone.

“aw, you’re so desperate for it, aren't you baby?” she chuckles, loosening her grip so you can give a weak ‘mhm’ in response. “tell me what you want and it's yours.”

you tilt your head back farther, big wet eyes staring back at hers and clearly having the desired effect if her lip bite and groan are any indication.

“just want you. want you inside me so badly it hurts.”

in under a second her strong arms are flipping you around like it is nothing, spreading your legs and holding them up for you to hold, your brain instantly following her lead and doing as she intends. while you do that her hands are busy pushing the fabric of her pants down her hips, throwing them to the floor with a huff before she settles back in front of you, staring at you as you stare at her. well, a part of her.

she takes a few seconds to revel in the attention you’re giving her, pretty eyes trailing up and down her body, spread out oh so obediently for her while you willingly give yourself to her to indulge in. she’ll have to remember to tell you how much it means to her in the morning because all she can focus on now is fucking you until the both of you pass out.

and so she fits herself into place, swollen thighs helping to keep yours apart as a red hand goes to align herself with your entrance, catching your eyes again and waiting for your enthusiastic nod before pushing herself inside. you moan at the combination of pleasure and pain, grip on your legs faltering as your head falls back onto the bed. karlach isn’t doing better, moaning at the same time as you at the feeling of finally getting to be inside you.

“gods-fuck,” she groans, pushing her hips further until she’s finally fit her entire length inside of you. you’re given a few moments to adjust, but impatient as ever you buck your hips, whining as despite the fullness it’s still not enough.

she smiles, resting her body on top of yours, throwing your legs over her shoulders, and kisses you before starting to thrust at a speed that makes your eyes cross.

there are no words to describe how it makes you feel, just like there are no words you’re able to speak as she wrecks you oh so beautifully and oh so roughly. the only sounds in the room are the rough plap plap plap’s of her thighs meeting yours, the wet sounds of her length coming in and out of you, and the squeaky moans being exerted from your chest that had your cheeks hot to the touch.

needing to ground yourself you reach out for any part of her you can, fight hand gripping around the thick keratin of her horn. your left can only grip onto the stub of her other one, but as your nails dig into the skin at the bottom of it a loud cry leaves the barbarian as she somehow makes her thrusts hit even deeper.

you can’t even begging to imagine what you look like, the (former?) esteemed and regal crown princess spread out and moaning at the top of your lungs as a blood war fighting tiefling barbarian fucks you six ways into next sunday. but with each passing minute of her dick pressing into that oh so good spot inside of you, you can’t find it in you to care. you deserve this. karlach deserves this.

and gods is it so hot to see how much she takes advantage. she has all the stamina of a titan, only momentarily stopping her brutal pace to make sure your weak legs stay up and apart. if you didn’t know any better you’d think she was in a trance, gaze fixed on the sight between the both of your legs.

with a gentle tug on her horns you bring her head back up to look at you, those beautiful amber eyes droopy as her mouth falls open in another moan. you whine and yank slightly harder, pursing your lips at her confused face when you realize you’re still unable to communicate anything other than squeaks.

she brings her lips to yours so fast your heads bump, both of you giggling into the kiss. despite the continued frenzied movements below its sweet and intimate, a soft and fuzzy feeling growing in your chest as she pulls away and starts to press short kissed to your lips and cheeks.

“feels so good, princess, you’re so damn good.” she pants, resting her head in the crok of your neck. the small bit of praise makes you whine and clench around her, her thrusts stuttering for a moment before she digs her knees harder in the bed to make up for the extra resistance.

“aww, you like that?”

you turn your head in the opposite way out of embarrassment, hoping she’ll drop it and bring her focus back to the view of how her cock gradually comes back sticker each time she pulls out of you. instead she nudges her forehead into your chin, bringing your eyesight back to her.

“you like to act like a brat but you just wanna be all good and pretty for me, don’t you? it’s alright, you can tell me.”

face scrunching, you scratch your fingers again at the stub of her horn and she lets out a mix between a groan and a laugh, quickly hitting her hand down to the apex of your thighs and rub harsh circles on your clit.

“oh fuck, karlach, fuck!” your words are high and slurred, mind going blank at the pleasure she forces onto you. you feebly try to slow her down, gripping around her wrist to try and calm the overwhelming pressure building up. “i can’t, can’t it’s-“

“cmon baby, can talk a bug game but can’t take it? do it for me, yeah?”

she doesn’t wait for your answer, cutting off any potential sass as her finger rubs faster and harder and she tilts her hips ever so slightly upwards so she’s pressing directly into your spot, and in under a minute you’re clenching around her and nearly losing your mind at the sheer force of your orgasm, too blinded by the pleasure to notice karlachs strained keen as her thrusts come to a halt and the warm feeling of her cum flows inside of you.

she allows you to bask in the euphoric peace between sleep and consciousness for a few minutes, pulling herself out of you and gently shushing you at your strained whimper. her fingers brush away some of the stray sweaty hairs from your forehead and pressing sweet pecks to your cheeks.

“need some help, hun?” she asks, already predicting your tired nod. without a hitch she gently picks you up, not wanting to disturb you from the peaceful state you were currently in. with all the grace of a ghost she carries your limp body to the small bathroom, turns on the enchanted tub faucet, and gently placed your in the warm water with her sat behind you.

you go in and out over the next hour. you remember the feel of her rubbing the sweat off of your skin, her gentle praises whispered into your hair, her body warming up your towel to dry you off before tugging your nightgown over your head. when she rests your body on tops of hers on your bed, with the gentle hum of her engine calling you to slumber, your final thought is that you wouldn’t mind staying in this tower a little longer.

for the next few weeks everything is nothing short of perfect. the introduction of romance only brings the two of you closer, never going more than an hour separated. its nice to pretend that the two of you aren’t trapped and are instead two lovers on a really weird vacation, spending your days eating magic food, reading books, and making love before doing it all again the next. day.

elisia surprisingly only visit once, silent as a ghost when she appeared in the doorway of the simple chamber room when karlach had decided to join you on a small couch while you were napping, staring at the both of you silently before huffing and leaving in a plume of smoke.

now, you've always been a deep sleeper, something that worried your parents in infancy but became something they were glad for when they heard comparisons to babies that cried all throughout the night. as soon as your head hit a pillow? it was lights out, your body quickly drifting off into a peaceful slumber until you were ready to arise exactly eight hours later.

when you finally start gaining those first few bits of consciousness you feel floaty, high off of what happened the night before, and your body ready to cuddle up to the warm and cozy tiefling still in bed with you.

but when your fingers extend to the soft sheets next to you they feel nothing. she's not there.

your body jerks up, grasping the shirts to cover your chest in a grasp for self-comfort as you look around your room, which is also empty.

you know logically she’s probably off for a short while to get something to eat or doing her daily rounds around the keep, your brain coming up with any scenario other than ‘regretted last night and left you in the dust.’.

before you can come up with more ways to drive yourself crazy, you can hear faint noises in the distance and below you - metal clashing, grunts of exertion, before the sound of someone hitting the wall so roughly that there's no way they didn't break any bones rouses you from your bed, quickly throwing a robe over your body before rushing down the spiraled stairs.

you let out a shrill shriek when a large airborne object nearly takes your head clean off as soon as your foot touches the last step, heart racing so quickly you fear you’ll pass out. your eyes focus on the space in front of you as you quickly try to figure out what danger has entered your ‘home.’

karlach, dressed only in her small sleeping top and trousers is rigid and staring straight at you, clearly disturbed by your scream and unmoving until your subtle nod lets her know you’re unharmed, she has a few bumps and scrapes including a long bleeding gash on her arm, blood trickling down until it reaches her fingers which are gripped around one of the large kitchen knives.

you don't need to ask what the danger is because it'd be hard to miss it even if you were blind. there's a knight standing just a few feet away from her, donned in shining silver armor and holding a similar shining steel sword. his helmet has been thrown aside to reveal an admittedly dashing face and blonde mane, the stereotypical look of a prince charming.

well. charming until he opens his mouth.

“princess y/n! finally, i have found you! your father the king has been contacting numerous kingdoms to track you down and bring you home safely. don't worry about this beast, i will slay it and you will finally be safe from your captors!”

“oh you want a beast i’ll show you a beast, pretty boy-” karlach moves to attack the knight before you step in front of her, placing a gentle hand on her chest to stop her in her tracks.

“how did you get in here, sir?”

“its sir garrick, your highness…” the man answers, eyes flicking between you and the hand you have on karlachs chest. you don't care to move it, though.

“and how did you get in here? you just.. walked through the drawbridge? no other obstacles?”

he nods. and though its an answer it does nothing to help you or karlach answer the question on your minds.

“do you reckon she’s dead?” karlach asks.

“i doubt we could be that lucky.” you roll your eyes and turn to face her, the woman relaxed at your touch but still on guard because the knight is still staring at the two of you like he just saw an owl bear pick up a lute and start singing. you do suppose this was rather odd, a lost princess found in a tower and gravitating to the giant barbaric tiefling rather than the knight in shining armor.

when you look into karlach’s eyes you can see a glimmer of hope inside of them, just the same as when you revealed your feelings for one another and when she’d tell you her dreams of returning to her home city again in the dead of night.

“well clearly she allowed this guy to get in here, or else he’d probably have a goats head and a cows arse by now-“

“excuse me, what’d you say?”

“which means she might allow us to leave, right? probably with some invisible strings attached?” karlach’s hand lightly grips your waist, her smile wide as she even considers the possibility of the both of you leaving.

and while you try your hardest to outwardly match her enthusiasm, your mind is racing with questions and hypotheticals. this woman had a vendetta against your father, went through the trouble to take one of zariels prized soldiers and have her watch over you day in and day out, and now you could just…walk out?

karlach goes to retrieve some proper clothing while you and the ever-so-confused knight stay where you are, the man thankfully answering every question you have while you wait for your companion to come back. you can tell he desperately wants to ask about your closeness, subtly reminding you that he's been trained to take on large threats in enclosed spaces, even fighting numerous devils in his travels. you ignore it as your mind continues to race with the possibilities of what could happen when you walk through that door, if this is all some sick joke and as soon as you walk through the doorway you’ll throw up your own guts.

but it fades when karlach comes bounding back down, fully geared and with a small bag slung over her shoulder, failing to hide the optimistic smile on her face. her large hand encloses around yours, and you cant help but to return the smile and grip her hand just the slightest bit harder.

“alright pretty boy, show us the way home.”

the knight hurriedly nods and starts towards the entrance. when you reach the large stone door, the one you've stared at so many times with despair in your heart, its indescribable the feeling you have when the sun hits your face and the sounds of birds tweeting fills your ears.

karlach is shaking your hand, smile wide and eyes bright at she looks up at the sky for the first time in a decade. as you start to walk she rambles about all the foods she cant wait to try, visiting her home city again, sleeping in a real bed for once, and all you can think is that you would stick yourself in that tower again just to keep her by your side.

#baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #karlach #karlach cliffgate #bg3 karlach #karlach x reader #karlach cliffgate x reader

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holdinbacksecrets · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Can you please write BTS version of the voicemails they will send hinting their feelings? Thank you 😊

thank you for requesting 🖤

voicemails from bts, hinting feelings

namjoon: “i was in a bookstore the other day and started to imagine a book you wrote being on the shelves someday. everything you do, down to the indentation of your steps, leaves behind a story. do you remember your birthday two years ago? you drank one glass too many, and it’s like the fiction unleashed. i recorded a voice memo, but i never played it for you. i want to.”

jin: “are you scared? this morning you sounded really scared on the phone. i’m sorry i didn’t say more or say enough. i was caught off guard because you’ve never showed me scared before, not like that. i’ve seen your apprehension. i’ve seen your insecure. i’ve seen your anxiety, but this was consuming fear. i’m making dinner, and i feel like you probably haven’t eaten today… if your anxiety gives anything away about your scared. come over when you’re off. i’ll greet you with a hug and bowl of soup. or two bowls. i have cheese and bread too. the good bread. the loaf you turned me on to.”

yoongi: “you used the notes app on my phone to write out your grocery list, and i’m amused. it sounds like you’re having a conversation with yourself: right now, i want rice crispies, but i’ll probably change my mind once i’m in the cereal aisle. trust your gut, or get two boxes. you’re 26. no one is stopping you. oh! get some apple juice too. i keep having dreams about twelve year old me at a friend’s house. we’d sit at the kitchen island after school with graham crackers and apple juice, and i miss her. i miss those simple conversations. you’re so pure and magnetic. sometimes i wonder where you came from, but then i’m just glad you made it here—tumbled into my life because you did tumble. you’ve always made the story sound too elegant. the tumble was charming, i promise.”

hoseok: “you’ve been sharing recipes with me, or i guess i should say the final product of your recipes has been shared with me, repeatedly, and now i’m starting to wait for the knock on my door or the ring of a text. is that bad? i wouldn’t want you to ever think i’m demanding treats, but i love… i love the time we spend together when you bring them over, and your eyes sparkle when my expression changes because of how good everything always tastes… i love that too.”

jimin: “did you say everything you needed to yesterday? i swear your lips parted and you leaned in so many times to never say anything. i know it was a busy place, and it’s not that fun sitting at a table for twelve. but i was ready to listen. i’ll be ready at 2 am too. whatever you need. there’s something to this, right? to the ease of our conversations. you trust me?”

taehyung: “do you want to sculpt clay with me? i bought a whole bag and a bunch of tools. i thought about booking a private lesson, but i wanted my record player and access to a kitchen and the ability to get my hands dirty whenever i want to—need it. do you need it too? if not, keep me company while i try to make something?”

jungkook: “can i pick you up today? this is going to sound ridiculous, but your smell used to linger in my car, and i can’t quite make out the notes of your perfume anymore. i can imagine them, but they don’t meet me when i open the door… i can’t leave this as a voicemail on your phone. can i leave this as a voicemail on your phone? i sound insane.”

bonus: “i’m calling to tell you i’m proud of you. sometimes when we were kids, i used to think our dreams wouldn’t make it higher than the trees. i thought they’d get caught in the leaves, die on branches come winter, but look at us. look at you. you’re incredible. we did it.”

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cursedlovesstuff · 7 months ago

Text

Fixing us. Part 5.

Nat heard the door open and close, followed by Y/N’s worried voice. “Nat?”

“I’m in the kitchen,” Nat called out, focusing on the garlic bread. It wasn’t long before she heard footsteps walking towards the kitchen.

“What happened?” Y/N asked, her voice tense.

“What happened?” Nat repeated, looking up from the oven.

“You called me. You called me and asked me to come home. The last time you did that was when Bucky almost died on that mission. So, who got hurt? Who died?”

“Relax, Y/N. No one’s dead and no one got hurt.”

“Oh...” Y/N said, setting her phone and purse down on the counter before leaning against it. “Well, then why’d you call me?”

“Can’t I call my wife, check up on her, and ask when she’s coming home?”

“You usually don’t. You text me, but you never call. Your definition of checking up on me is saying a few words before bed and then going to sleep,” Y/N said truthfully. “So, what's wrong? What do you need?”

“Nothing’s wrong and I don’t need anything. I thought maybe we could have dinner together,” Nat said as she finished preparing the garlic bread, the aroma of garlic and butter filling the kitchen.

“You made dinner?"

"Yes, why do you sound so surprised?"

"In the seven years that we have been together, you've never cooked. Breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Did you have someone make this?"

"I had someone teach me how to make this so that I could surprise you. I know it's your favorite."

"It was my favorite... I haven't eaten it in over a year. Once you have too much of a good thing, you stop appreciating it."

"I— It's fine. I can order pizza."

"You don't have to order pizza. Thank you for dinner, but I'll eat it when I get back."

"When you get back? Where are you going?"

"Carol invited me and the girls out to talk and for drinks since we were, well, interrupted."

"When did she invite you?"

"She called right after you did. I told her I wasn't sure if I could make it because you needed me."

"I do need you."

"Dinner's ready and no one's hurt. It seems like you've got everything handled," Y/N said, looking around the kitchen. "I won't be gone long. I'm going to get dressed. I'll see you later."

Y/N left the kitchen, leaving Nat confused. She quickly wiped her hands clean before heading up the stairs to their shared bedroom.

"Y/N."

"Yes, Nat?" Y/N said, looking away from her clothes.

"You can't go out with Carol."

"Why not?" Y/N asked, pulling out a dress.

"Because Carol doesn't have your best interests at heart."

"When was the last time you had my best interests at heart?" Y/N shot back, making Nat let out a frustrated sigh as she ran her hands through her hair.

"I get that you're upset with me, especially after last night, but—"

"I'm not upset about last night."

"You're not?" Nat asked, confused.

"No, I'm not upset. If I were, you would be the first to know."

"If you're not upset, then... why would you go out for drinks with Carol?"

"Because I need a break, Nat. I need to breathe. You can’t just call me up and expect everything to be fine because you made dinner for the first time ever."

Nat’s shoulders slumped, and she took a step closer. “I know I’ve screwed up. I know I haven’t been here the way I should be, but I’m trying, Y/N. I really am.”

“You’re trying?” Y/N scoffed, shaking her head. “How many years have we been together, Natalia?” she asked, the use of her full name stinging Nat.

"Seven years."

"Seven years. Married for four, dated for two and a half years, engaged for five months, and you're the one trying?"

"For the past seven years, I have been trying. I have cared for you and protected you with my life. When you come home bloody and bruised from missions, I'm the one cleaning and stitching you up."

"When a part of your suit rips, I'm the one putting the pieces back together so that you don't get grilled by Fury."

"When something happens and it triggers you and you start to remember your past and lose yourself, I'm still here putting the pieces back together. And you're the one trying? One dinner isn't going to fix all of our problems."

"I know."

"Do you, Nat? Because it's only been 24 hours and that is not nearly enough time for either of us to decide what we really want."

"For either of us to decide what we want?" Nat repeated, her voice cracking slightly.

"I know what I want, Y/N, but I don't know what it is that you want from me."

"I don't know."

"You don't know? What does that mean? What do you mean you don't know?"

"It means I don't know, Nat. Okay? I finally started to figure things out for myself. I started going on morning runs and working out. I have a job now, and I have friends. I don't just sit around and wait for you to come back to me anymore. And now that I give you an ultimatum, you want to take it seriously."

"I have always taken our relationship seriously," Nat said, earning a skeptical look from Y/N.

"Do not look at me like that. I know lately I put my job and the team above you and our relationship. I realize that now and I'm sorry it took me this long to figure it out."

"Sorry doesn't fix things."

"I know that, Y/N, but I can't fix things if you don't talk to me. I can't read your mind and I won't know what's wrong if you don't tell me."

"What's wrong is me, Nat. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"What?"

"I keep thinking about the past and how things used to be. When we used to be happy. When I used to be happy."........

~~~~~~

Is this what you guys wanted? I had a friends advice and help but im stuck on part five I know where I want this to go but I can't get pass this part. Should I just drop the rest of part five or switch it up?

Also I'm writing so many other story's at once it's hard to keep up.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #oneshot #angst #avengers #Fixing us part 5.

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pparadiselost · 1 year ago

Text

crying wolf.

werewolf michael kaiser x red riding hood fem reader clichés always hold a grain of truth to them. warning(s): nsfw, noncon, murder of an uninvolved character, breeding, knotting minors do not interact.

a big bad wolf lives in the woods near your village.

that much you know.

the wolf has been the talk of the town for years now, and no matter how many men set off to kill the wolf or how many traps had been set up to catch it once and for all, the sly beast always managed to escape the trickery of your town.

there came a point where you stopped caring about it. you had no reason to step into the woods, satisfied with your quiet life in town, and outside of the stray sheep being killed and eaten every few months, the wolf really didn’t do anything to disturb your quality of life. it must suck to be a sheep farmer while this was all going down, but you weren’t a sheep farmer, so you didn’t care.

“you ought to be more careful!” the old cheesemonger’s wife scolds you as she hands you a generous chunk of cheese. “you know, the huntsmen are saying that they’re going to form an escort group in about a week’s time. shouldn’t you wait until then to go visit your grandma?”

you shake your head. “mama said i should go as soon as possible. grandma hasn’t been feeling well for a while, and ever since the whole wolf scare, we haven’t been able to visit her frequently. i just want to make sure she has enough food, because she can’t really do much herself.”

the old wife clicks her tongue and waggles her finger. “i keep telling my husband here, they really ought to catch that wolf quickly. this is how these things always begin. a couple sheep here and there, and next thing you know, the wolf’s run off with a toddler. who’s to say it won’t develop an appetite for a pretty girl like you?”

“oh, please.” you snort slightly. “the only things with an appetite for women like me are the drunkard sleazebags that waste their money away in the taverns.”

“well, you can say that again,” she laughs. she winks as she tucks you an extra slice of sweet cheese into your basket, and she waves you off before you finish off your errands and head home.

the chilled autumn breeze nips at your skin, and you huddle under the red cape your mother’s lovingly sewn for you. it’s become your best friend when winter starts to draw close, and you’ve worn the garment for years. you’re sure you’ll wear it in due time when you’ll set out through the woods to your grandmother’s, where the bright crimson ought to serve as an identifying beacon of sorts for your ailing grandmother.

the sun threatens to set in the distance by the time you gather up all your supplies and head to the outskirts of the village, where your home is. you double check the contents of your basket at your front door, not wanting your mother to scold you for having forgotten anything.

a bottle of hearty wine? check. loaves of bread that won’t go bad soon? check. cheese, meats, and fruits? check.

“i’m home!” you called out, swinging your front door open. your mother jumps and places a hand over her heart, exhaling deeply when she notices it’s just you.

“you scared the wits out of me, dear!” she scolds, stirring intensely at the pot in front of her. “a knock before you come in wouldn’t hurt, you know!”

“says the person who leaves the front door unlocked.” you toss your boots off and hang your cloak up, and you set down the heavy basket on the already set dining table. you swing in to a seat at the table, stomach growling at the scent of fresh stew. “i got everything for grandma tomorrow. is there anything else you need me to bring to her?”

“do you think i should pack some jam for her? i have a few jars that mr. ah… what’s his name again- well, he gave me some because his sister had made too much, and i reckon that your grandmother wouldn’t have too many sweet things to eat while she’s sick,” your mother suggests. you shrug, and she wipes her hands down on her apron before grabbing at the pot’s handle. “stay put where you are, dear. hot pot coming through!”

“i don't think it'll hurt. might as well bring it over if i’m headed there in the first place,” you offered. your mother smiles at you fondly as you practically lunge for the pot, spoon in hand to scarf down a well-deserved meal.

“slow down, or you’ll get a tummy ache,” she reminds you. you swipe at your mouth with your sleeve, earning a wince from her, but she doesn’t say anything. the night quickly melts away into the everyday hum of dinner followed by a quick berry pie dessert.

you haven’t even thought of the wolf until your mother tells you to go fetch the rest of the laundry she forgot to get earlier in the day. you balance a laundry basket on your hip as you drag your feet outside, wishing you were snuggled up in your bed with a book instead. the cold wind bites at your exposed neck and face, and you scowl as you haphazardly yank at the clothes and socks hung up on the laundry line.

“stupid wind,” you grumble under your breath. you stuff some shirts into the laundry basket, but when you reach to grab at the last pair of socks on the line, the wind tussles it free from the clothing pin and the socks go flying off in the distance. you let out a yelp before running after it, watching the white socks flutter like a pair of doves before landing onto the dirt.

“stupid, stupid wind!” you doubly curse as you bend down, yanking your nightclothes up so that the hem won’t be stained by the dirt. you reach to grab the socks before something in the ground catches your eye, and you shift to take a closer look.

your eyes widen in horror.

pawprints. wolf pawprints.

you shudder and quickly stand up, racing back to the safety of your laundry line and basket. the cursed beast must have been wandering around the wilderness near your home. a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of some stinky mutt of a wolf sniffing at your laundry, and once you see that there are no more clothes left on the line, you march back home and shut the door firmly behind you.

you have nothing to fear. you’re no sheep and definitely not meal material for the big bad wolf. you don’t even bring up the pawprints to your mother once you’re inside, and you don’t even think of the wolf again when you go to bed, bracing yourself for the long journey to your grandmother’s cottage tomorrow.

…

“do you have everything?”

“yes, mama.”

“are your boots comfortable?”

“yes, mama.”

“will the cloak be enough to keep you warm?”

“yes, mama.”

you swear the entire day’s going to be over by the time your mother’s done fretting over you. she’s not only gone over the contents of your basket once, twice, thrice, four goddamn times, and she’s still convinced that somehow she magically forgot to add everything to it. she keeps fretting over you, pulling the cloak tighter around your throat and making sure the hood covers your head comfortably.

deep down, you know she means well, but she keeps fussing over you like you’re a newborn baby. you’re old enough to take care of yourself, old enough to know how the world runs, old enough to stand on your own two feet without having her circling you like some kind of anxious mama bear. which she is, you suppose.

she kisses your forehead gently, looking at you with the weathered affectionate eyes only a mother could ever muster up. “i know you’re sick of me worrying over you like this. i can’t help it—you’re my baby.”

“i’ll be back before you even know it, mama,” you joke back. “and if i’m not back by dinner, you can assume i’ll be at grandma’s for the night. either way, i’ll be back by tomorrow for sure.”

“i’ll be waiting for you,” your mother promises. she clasps your hands, rubbing her calloused palms over yours. she squeezes your fingers carefully, grinning at you despite her obvious nerves. “my baby’s all grown up! going through the woods by herself and everything… what am i going to do when you actually leave the nest?”

“oh, you’ll be fine.” you hoist the heavy basket up, flashing your mother a thumbs-up. “i’ll be on my way then. i shouldn’t dally around too much, or it’ll get late.”

“right, right. i guess i’ll bake something to pass the time while you’re gone. maybe making your favorite pie ought to incentivize you to come home faster!” she agrees with a hearty laugh. you’re just about to turn around and set off before your mother cries out a panicked “wait!”

you look over your shoulder. “huh? what is it, mama?”

“i know this is probably just me fretting,” she looks at you firmly, and she wrings her hands slightly, “but it’s better safe than sorry. make sure to never wander from the main road, okay? you’ve heard about the wolf that’s been terrorizing our village. i don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

you’d snark back at her a bit normally, but the pure fear in your mother’s eyes makes you bite your tongue for once. “i’ll stay strictly on the path, mama. besides, the wolf’s never taken a human before. and i’m sure there’ll be huntsmen and all sorts of other people out and about at this time of day, so i’ll be okay.”

“i know,” she sighs. “it’s a mother’s instinct. i can’t help but fret over you constantly.”

she waves you off, and you’re on the path to your grandmother’s before you even know it. the weather today is perfect: brisk refreshing air, a few cotton-white clouds in the bright blue sky, and the mischievous twinkles of sunlight streaming through forest trees’ branches.

truth be told, you like these solo adventures more than anything else in the world. living a quiet life in your village has its perks, but when everyone knows everybody, you rarely get a chance to set out by yourself without the scrutiny of your entire town on your back. you hum a little song while you skip through the beaten path in the woods, savoring the solitude. it shouldn’t take you more than a few hours to make the round trip, save for a quick lunch break in the middle and maybe a snack for the road at your grandmother’s abode.

you couldn’t be happier right now. the basket swings from the crook of your arm as you stroll through the woods, admiring the wilderness. a pair of butterflies flutter every now and then, and you can make out the melodic warbles of birdsong. you wonder if it’s mating season for the creatures; the closest you ever got to romance were the fairy tales in your book (your mother’s old hand-me-downs, from when she lived in the port city before moving her to marry your now-absent father) or the occasional wedding that took place in your village (the last one was 7 years ago, when the wheat grinder’s daughter married the postman. you pressed the flowers from your corsage between the pages of a heavy dictionary).

either way, you wish your village had more to show a young woman like yourself. everyone seems happy living their rustic life, and while you were satisfied with the peace that your mother strove so hard to provide you with, you knew that the world had more to show you.

and you crave it. just as the horizon of the woods seems to stretch on forever and ever, you wonder if there’s something beyond it just waiting for you.

maybe there ought to be a great marble castle, blinding white in the distance, complete with a prince charming inside atop his great steed. or maybe big markets with all sorts of treasures from afar! sometimes when a stray merchant stumbles across your town, you’d eavesdrop on the stories they’d tell to the little kids (you always dreamed about tasting the delicious spices they bragged about. cinnamon, was it? oh, that sounded fabulous).

but instead, you’re stuck with this bumfuck, hillbilly country town. there aren’t even any good looking guys here, and you know it’ll take at least a decade to convince your mother to let you move out away from the safety of her arms. the height of gossip here is a stupid wolf running around the woods. your village is so boring that they can’t even find a human to gossip about.

sweat dots your brow once you’re a good way into your journey. parts of the woods clear out into patches of grass or the sporadic lake, and your stomach starts growling slightly. you debate pushing yourself a bit further before you decide otherwise—your mother had packed you a delicious lunch, and it wouldn’t hurt to give your feet a quick break while you wolfed it down.

you scan the nearby woods for a clearing you could sit at, and after a few more feet of walking, you’re greeted with what looks like a meadow of wildflowers in the distance. you keep your eye on the main path before plopping down on the side of the beaten track, leaning your back against a tall tree.

‘lunchtime, lunchtime,’ you excitedly think to yourself as you peel back the cover of your basket. in the corner, all wrapped up, is a pair of sandwiches, a bottle of water, and a whole apple that your mother has prepared for you. the bright noon sun above your head indicates to you that it's the perfect time for lunch, and you lick your lips as you unwrap the sandwiches.

you go to town on your food. you have to force yourself to slow down a bit so you won’t choke on your food, and you listen to the back-and-forth of bird calls as you savor the taste of tasty bread. the crisp tanginess of the apple is welcomed by your tongue after you finish your sandwiches, and you chew thoughtlessly.

crunch.

‘hm?’ you don’t even move when the sound of rustling comes from behind you. it’s probably a deer or something. the sound of rustling wasn’t uncommon this deep into the woods, and huntsmen often told stories about daring foxes or squirrels that would venture close to the tracks to fight over scraps that other travelers had dropped.

crunch.

you swallow down the final bite of your apple, inwardly wishing you had more. you dangle the core in between your fingers, and you wonder if you should toss it into the woods. yeah, that wouldn’t be too bad, right?

crunch.

the birds could pick at it for a bit, and then maybe the bugs could enjoy the sweet treat. what use would you have for an apple core? you stand up, dusting yourself off the best you can, and without looking too far into the woods, you rev up your arm and throwing the apple core as far as you can into the trees with as much force as you can muster-

-only to hit something square on with the apple core.

you blanche. what did you just hit? you weren’t looking too closely, and you had expected the apple core to unceremoniously fall somewhere on the ground and be forgotten. but instead, something of considerable size lurks in the woods, and you hold your breath as you haphazardly grab your basket and your cloak, getting ready to run for it.

“ow…,” a boyish voice whimpers.

huh??? you freeze in your place, confusion flickering through your brain as a shadowy figure rustles around the place you had tossed the apple. a voice? you hadn’t expected that. you were supposed to be the only person here.

did you accidentally hit a wandering huntsman on accident?

“w-who’s there?” you call out. “come out and show yourself!”

“i was trying to-,” the voice grumbles. you hear footsteps and the crunching of breaking branches and leaves, and you keep your distance from the voice. the figure shifts closer to you. “-before you hit me in the face with your leftovers.”

your breath stops just short in your throat when you see a young boy around your age step out into the light. you clearly look confused—you’ve never seen him before, and no one’s mentioned anything about a boy this deep into the woods.

“who are you?” you ask, your own voice hushed. “i’ve never seen you before.”

“i should be asking you that,” he huffs. he folds his hands over his chest, and he pouts. “i want to know about you first.”

“i live in the village.” you point the way you came, down the path. you make the wise decision to casually leave out your name and any other important information you can. “are you from there too?”

he shakes his head. “i live in the woods.”

the woods! you’d never heard of anyone living in the woods. it was pure wilderness, dangerous and scary, no less for someone who wasn’t even a veteran wilderness expert! for someone that lived in the woods, the boy looks surprisingly well groomed. his long blond hair pools over his shoulder and down his chest, and it looks clean and well maintained. his cheeks are rosy and pink, and his bright blue eyes stare you down with a kind of pride you’ve never seen before.

“that’s dangerous, you know,” you point out. “there’s a wolf that's been running around these parts lately. it’s not safe for you to be out here all alone.”

he raises an eyebrow. “a wolf, huh?”

“yeah! it’s been killing sheep in my village. everyone’s been talking about it,” you remark. “i’d take you back to my village if i could, but i can’t.”

“i’m not welcome there,” he coldly remarks. his eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s leering at you. “besides, i wouldn’t want to live in a stupid village anyway. i’m happier on my own. everyone else and their stupidity would make me mad.”

annoyance shoots through you, and you shrug. “suit yourself. i can’t force you to go if you don’t want to. but i’d rather not have blood on my hands.”

“blood on your hands, huh?” the blond boy steps closer to you. “where are you headed to?”

“why do you want to know?”

“because it’s not often that i see a girl wandering around this deep by herself. you said it yourself: it’s dangerous out here.”

you hold your ground as he steps closer, circling around you. he’s tall when he stands at full height, almost enough to rival some of the tallest men in your village. his body is toned, most likely from living in pure wilderness for however long he has, and despite the lighthearted banter between the two of you, something in your gut swirls with anxiety when he prowls around like a wild animal.

“i’m headed somewhere,” you answer vaguely. “i have some stuff i gotta deliver.”

“and it’s that way, isn’t it? opposite your village?” he approaches closer, and you whimper when he sniffs at your ear. “lemme guess… that old lady’s house on the other side?”

your stomach drops. the boy grins, his sharp canines on full display when he sees the awestruck look on your face.

“bingo! you smell like her,” he laughs easily. “that’s a long journey for a pretty girl like you.”

you pull your cloak closer to yourself, instinctively wanting to shield yourself from the strange boy. “that’s enough! i’m going to get going.”

“sure, sure.” he sends you off, still grinning like he’s won some grand prize. “be careful out there though, darling.”

he cocks his head, watching you as you start running away from him. the blond smirks to himself, your sweet scent still clinging to his nose as your silhouette flickers from his view and then disappears into the distance.

“a wolf, huh?” he murmurs. he sounds amused, still thinking about the flabbergasted expressions on your face. something inside of him stirs sinisterly.

he’s hungry, he decides.

and suddenly, sheep meat doesn’t sound as appetizing anymore.

…

horror weighs on your heart like a brick thrown into a pond. it ripples and quivers violently, forming merciless waves that spread out, swallowing up anything in its path and leaving things warped in its wake.

your grandmother’s house is trashed. the windows are smashed in, and the front door is broken. your heart hammers in a panic, and your mouth goes dry. your pupils shake as you stand a distance away from the house.

your mind is blank. what happened? robbers? wild animals? a murderer?

you know deep down in your heart that the correct thing to do is turn on your heel and run, run until you find someone else, run until another person could take care of the issue for you. but your feet stay glued to the ground, and your thoughts swirl over with terrifying ideas.

your grandmother is inside! she’s a weak, defenseless lady, practically confined to her bed because of her old age and her illness… there was virtually nothing she could do to defend herself if anyone attacked her.

what if you were already too late?

“g-grandma…!” you cry out. your basket bounces next to you as you run into the house, tears clouding over your vision. the house seems too big, like it’s swallowing you up without the safety of your grandmother. the inside of the cottage looks just like the outside. furniture overturned, big claw marks etched into the walls, and absolutely no sign of your beloved grandmother.

your blood turns cold at the claw marks.

was it the wolf?

“grandma, if you can hear me, say something…!” you whisper, too scared to raise your voice properly. “o-or move something! grandma, you’re in here, right?”

your body trembles uncontrollably. the only room remaining that isn’t within clear sight is your grandmother’s bedroom. your gut tells you to leave immediately. you don’t want to go in there, but you have to. who’s going to help your grandmother if not for you? what if by the time you ran away and brought other people, it was too late for her?

your steps echo throughout the ruined house like the toll of church bells, and you press your lips into a thin line. you reach out for the door, which, despite its dilapidated state, somehow managed to stay partially attached to the hinges. you push, forcing your head to quit spinning from your fear.

“we meet again, darling!”

your heart drops to the ground. blood paints what seems like every inch of the room, and you immediately stumble backwards, tripping over your own feet and landing like a sack of potatoes onto the ground.

‘move…!’ your brain screams at your body. ‘get up and move!’

but you can’t. the scene unfurling in front of your eyes makes your limbs feel like they were made of lead. you can’t bring yourself to do anything. you can’t crawl, can’t scream, can’t do anything except stare back up at the blood-drenched young man that looms above you with a wolfish smile.

he licks his lips. he looks exactly as he did in the woods. tall, with long blond hair and dazzling blue eyes. except this time, there’s a pair of pointed wolf ears that sprout from the top of his head and a bushy tail in between his legs. he’s splashed with crimson, and his mouth is smeared the deepest red.

“see, i knew this was where you were headed to,” he laughs. “are you looking for the old lady that was in here? sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but i think i was a step ahead of you.”

you can’t bring yourself to breathe.

“you- you’re the wolf…,” you choke out. the smug smirk never leaves the boy’s face as he leers down at you, and another wave of pure dread drops like a deadweight into your stomach when he nods.

“about time you pieced it together, stupid girl.” the boy clicks his tongue mockingly. “i always watched that stupid village of yours get their panties all in a twist trying to catch me. i mean, human or not, did you guys really think you’d catch anything with stupid traps like that?”

you raise your arms instinctively when he leans down. “please don’t kill me…! i won’t say anything- please don’t eat me!”

he pauses, and he takes a long inhale. you clench your eyes shut, bracing yourself from the crunch of your bones under his sharp teeth, and for the smell of your blood to fill the room. this is it. this is how you die. another victim to the weird werewolf that had terrorized your town for god-knows-how-long, gobbled up mercilessly in the same way the boy had devoured your poor, helpless grandmother.

he laughs again, and you shudder. you tentatively peel your eyes open, only to scream when you see yourself at eye-level with him.

“did you think i was going to eat you too? nah, i’m not gonna do that to you. i’ve had my fill with that bony old grandma of yours.” he grabs your wrist, and you yelp when pain shoots up your arm. he yanks you up to your feet, and you shakily lean against him when he drags you into the heart of the scene of the crime. you don’t want to look at all the blood splattered against your now-dead grandmother’s bedroom, and the boy flings you like a ragdoll onto her bed.

he looks so monstrous, towering over your cowering form. in every other way, he looks like a normal human, like any other boy you’d see frolicking in your hometown, but his animalistic features betray him. the gleam in his eyes mark him as unmistakably a ruthless predator, and your heart feels like it's going to give out.

“what are you going to do to me?” you eke out. “are you going to take me hostage?”

“hostage? for what? do i look like the kind of person to bargain with stupid humans?” he snorts, and when he shakes his head at your foolishness, his long hair tumbles over his broad shoulders. you look like a deer caught in headlights as he clambers onto the bed, and he presses a hand on either side of your face as he cages you in between his body and the mattress.

he’s smiling, but you can’t detect any trace of goodwill or kindness on his face. “do you really want to know what i’m going to do with you, my darling?”

you didn’t know how to respond. he leans down to your level, and you whimper when you can smell the stench of blood and death on his mouth. despite this, he presses his lips against the outline of your jaw, and you quiver underneath the boy as his tongue darts out to lick at your skin.

“i’m going to make you my mate.”

your head feels like it’s caving in.

“what-?” you flinch. “no- no, no- nonono- you can’t do that… i can’t- no, i can’t do that! i can’t be your mate…!”

he narrows his eyes, yet his lips never leave your face. he keeps kissing you greedily, and you push at him to no avail, unable to wrench his heavier, stronger body off of you. you start sobbing and crying out, yet the boy pays no attention to you as his mouth tastes your skin like a starved man.

“be good, or i’ll force you. you wouldn’t want that, would you? i don’t want to hurt a pretty thing like you,” he hisses. you sniffle and swallow back your oncoming sobs and you avert your eyes.

“i promise i’ll be gentle. besides, i’m way better looking than any of the men in your village,” he attempts to cheer you up. “c’mon. look at me. isn’t something like this more exciting than a drab country wedding? i’ll treat you like a princess. just love me, darling. does it matter if i’m a wolf or not?”

“you’re a wolf that kills! i don’t want to be with someone like you!”

he frowns, and his hands move to your cloak. your heart pounds painfully against your chest as his fingers twist at the material. your mother’s painstaking handiwork dissolves like sugar in water under his grip, and you know moving to defend yourself is futile. he quickly shreds your clothes as you cry quietly.

“you would do this too, if you were me.” his fingers trace over the bare skin of your collarbones and dip towards your breasts. his hands are sticky and warm against the chill of your body, and he cups your chest. it’s insane, how well your body fits into his big palms. he watches you with lust-stricken eyes, and his cock strains against his pants when he sees your tears wetting your pretty face and you laying there underneath him, not bothering to fight him off.

he knows. he knows you’re being obedient out of fear rather than true submission, but it’s good enough for him.

“i’m lonely,” he whispers. “you don’t know how it feels. having to kill to live. having to stay in the shadows. having to always yearn from afar because all of those stupid humans can’t see that i’m more similar to them than i am different.”

“t-that’s no reason to ruin my life…!” you protest. it’s a last ditch effort, but you shakily inhale anyway. “please… let me go. we can pretend like none of this happened. i promise i won’t tell anyone anything. i’ll give you my word. just… i can’t be a wolf’s wife- i can’t- i can’t do that-”

he shakes his head. “i want you. you talked to me in the forest. offered me help. treated me like a normal boy my age. i was too scared, so i hid my ears and tail, and you were none the wiser. that- that’s enough proof, isn’t it? that with enough time, you’d come to love me for who i am…”

you let out a strangled cry as a hand starts groping your tits, rough fingers brushing over your sensitive nipples. it feels foreign, having your boobs touched like this, but a dull heat thrums deep inside your stomach. the boy looks entranced as he stares down at your form. the way your plush chest molds and bends to his hands makes him desire you even more, even if he’s aware that you’re terrified to death of him.

“i can’t let you go. i can’t,” he doubles down. any of the remorse you had managed to wrench out of him disappears bit by bit, and he groans as he paws at your body greedily. “god, you’re just so pretty… i have to have you.”

you clench your thighs together. his lips meet yours, and you nearly vomit at the taste of iron on your mouth. he’s clumsy, but he kisses you so hungrily, eager to lap up any semblance of affection. you grip at the sheets as his hot tongue swipes at your closed lips, and you’re determined to deny him. he frowns into the kiss, and you feel a twinge of pride well up.

the wolf exhales angrily. the hand that’s been roaming your chest twists at your nipple harshly. you yelp at the pain, and the boy shoves his tongue into your mouth, moaning into the kiss. you start thrashing slightly. he doesn’t heed any mind to your discomfort, and if anything, he begins grinding his clothed hips against your thighs.

he can’t get enough of how you feel. your kisses are like honey to his mouth, and his body melts at the feeling of you against him. you know he’s going to leave bruises all over your tits from how hard he’s grabbing at them, but despite everything that’s overwhelming you, the heat that pounds against your core only builds.

you can’t breathe. you clench your eyes shut and try to bear it, try to work through the sparks of pleasure that cloud your mind from having your breasts molested, as the wolf kisses you how he wants you. your mouth tastes foul when he finally pulls away, and a string of saliva connects the two of you momentarily.

you glare up at him.

“i want to fuck you…,” his voice trails off. “i want to fuck you so bad. but i have to be gentle. i promised to treat you well…”

your pussy curls at the thought of taking the wolf’s dick. he bucks his clothed erection higher and higher up your legs, and he moans shamelessly into your mouth as he kisses you again. he slobbers all over your mouth like a feral dog, his tongue slithering into your throat like he’s fucking your mouth.

you don’t enjoy this. you don’t want this at all. yet you can’t ignore the throb that pulses at your core, the way your walls squeeze every now and then painfully against nothing. you’re not turned on by this—you’re not. you want to convince yourself of that so badly, but every time you realize the situation you’re put in, pinned down to a bed with a werewolf that wants to stuff every inch of his dirty cock into your cunt, arousal swirls inside your body.

his hands trickle down to your pants, and fear pricks sharply at your heart.

“i’ll be a good mate.” he peels the rest of your clothes off, mimicking the gentleness of a human lover the best he can. “i can be like a real human husband. no, i can be better. i know i can be better than any of those stupid boys in your village.”

you shudder when cold air rushes at your bare cunt. the slick that coats your slit is undeniable, and the boy’s pupils widen at the sight. he swallows, and you watch as his neck bobs. even by human standards, he’s handsome, and your body betrays your mind as he coaxes your thighs open.

“you want me too, don’t you?” he asks. he offers a weak smile. it’s almost sickening, how someone who mercilessly took everything from you can pretend to be a human in hopes that you’d grant him any pity. “i’ll make you feel good. i’ll be everything you want me to be.”

he lets go of your legs, and he grabs at his own clothes, shredding them apart. he groans when his cock springs free of his pants.

your heart drops into your stomach.

“i-i can’t take that-,” you choke out. “that’s too big! you’ll kill me- i’m not kidding…!”

he tilts his head to the side, and he shrugs. his cock is inhumanly huge, and if he were to put that inside your cunt, you swear that you’d be able to feel it in your throat. it’s long and thick and swollen up to an angry red. a few prominent veins run along his length, eager to stuff itself into your soft and vulnerable cunt. his balls hang heavy and big, undoubtedly filled with all the cum that he wants to fuck into you.

he grabs at your thighs again, and you squeal loudly in protest as he keeps you pinned in place.

“stay still-,” he grunts, “it’ll hurt less if you stop squirming like that! you’ll get used to it with time. it might hurt a little, but it’ll feel good with time… now shut up, and let me fuck you already-”

you grit your teeth and brace yourself as he starts rubbing his length against your lower lips. he moans softly, savoring the way your warm body feels against him. you can feel his cock twitch dangerously against your folds, and you whimper in a mix of pleasure, disgust, and fear whenever his cockhead catches at your sensitive clit.

he lines his cock up at your fluttering hole, and you stop breathing. your chest feels tight, and your head feels blown out. you prep yourself for the oncoming pain, but he pauses for a moment.

“give me your name.”

you blink. “huh?”

“if- if i’m going to take you to be my mate, i should know your name at least. before i do this,” he whispers sheepishly. your stomach twists with hatred. why should he care? he’s going to do all of these horrible things to you, so why is he even bothering to pretend to play the act of a caring lover?

“yours first,” you hiss. “if a wolf like you even has a name.”

“i do.” his response surprises you. “michael. it’s michael. i have a human name like you do. i heard that it means ‘he who is like god.’ now tell me yours.”

you lay there for a moment, dumbfounded. you didn’t expect a monster like him to have a label like that. and less so a name as blessed as “michael.”

you hang your head. “...(y/n).”

he hums, and you flinch when his cockhead threatens to break into your hole. “it’s a pretty name. a perfect name for a perfect mate.”

you bite the inside of your mouth and properly brace yourself. he pushes his hips in slowly, his gaze fixed on where his cock connects with your pussy. you weren’t sure exactly what you were expecting, but the pain comes faster than you thought. it burns and stretches, and you cry out, stiffening and lashing out, trying to get him off of you.

“hurts…! ‘t hurts-!!” you screech. you pound and claw at his shoulders, yelling and immediately bursting into another onslaught of tears. the tears are hot and heavy as they trickle down your face, and your legs shake uncontrollably. it genuinely feels like he’s splitting you into two, and the torturous pain makes your head flash white.

michael nearly falls on top of you. your cunt is disgustingly warm and inviting, and it stretches out and envelops him. it’s hot and wet and tight, and despite your constant protests, your pussy is heavenly around his cock. you’re so small, and he knows his wolf cock is about to break you. but god—he wants to break you. if breaking you feels this good, he’ll eagerly shatter you into a million pieces so that he has the depraved honor of being the one to destroy you and strip you of your humanity.

he clenches his jaw. he couldn’t lose his mind. not like this, not when his endgame was right there. “take it. i’m going to be your mate, so you better get used to taking my dick and get used to it fast.”

you hold back a strangled sob. your tears are freeflowing, and it’s hard to breathe. his cock feels like it’s pressing straight up against your womb, and he’s not even giving you the mercy of adjusting to his size slowly. his length invades every inch of your cunt, and his ridiculous girth has you stretched out thin. you know you can’t take this. he’s actively molding your tight hole into the shape of his cock, and if he keeps himself in here any longer, you might actually go insane.

your words slur sloppily. “you’ll kill me- you’ll fuck me to death-”

his breathing is strained just from the pleasure of putting it in, but he still manages to snort at you mockingly. “you won’t die. no one’s ever died from sex.”

you wish you had the spirit to shout back at him, to put up more of a fight. but that instinct has been long extinguished at this point, and you’re nothing more than a sniveling mess as you struggle to breathe through the tightness in your chest.

“c’mon, don’t be boring now.” he truly can’t get enough of the sight. the pretty girl from the village, face stained with tears, legs spread out all for him to fuck into her pretty cunt. to put it as frankly as he can, the boy doesn’t know what he wants to do first with you.

the sweeter part of him wants to kiss away your tears, to comfort you the best he can with a low voice and whisper his undying love to you, to convince you that a life as a wolf’s wife won’t be all that bad. you’ve caught his eye for a reason, and he wouldn’t want to have you snatch away whatever dregs of humanity the hybrid wolfboy was clinging desperately too. even if everyone else regarded him to be some kind of barbaric monster, deep down, even he has a soul that yearns painfully for love. for a romantic partner that could accept him as an equal and open their heart up to him.

but maybe this other part of him is what makes him a monster.

he loves seeing you reduced to this broken mess. he enjoys it, the primal fear that’s evident on every inch of your face. the way you’re nothing more than prey in his arms, with no other choice but to let him fuck your tight pussy out on his monstruous cock, to be the direct cause of all the pain and anguish you’re going through and to enjoy it like it’s the thrill of a fresh kill… it makes the wolfish streak inside of him go wild with delight, and he wants to keep you pinned down and helpless underneath him so he can soak up that bliss a little longer.

your stomach coils up on itself when you feel him slide his hips back slowly. the strangled noise that leaves your mouth is a mix between a pained shriek and a pleasured moan. he’s really too much for you to fit inside, and your strained walls cling to his cock. you’re barely hanging on for dear life just from him penetrating you. you can’t even imagine what it would be like once he would start actually thrusting and having sex with you.

“ahhh, you’re just too cute,” he teases you. “i never knew love could feel like this… it’s so good, isn’t it? no regular human dick could even come close to what i’ll make you feel, my little wife.”

you sob as he slowly bullies his cock back into you, once more making sure that you can properly feel the torturous stretch. the pain wobbles dangerously on edging you towards pleasure, and your vision blurs over slightly as the mounting heat in your gut tightens up. it’s gross, it’s inhuman that you’re getting off on having sex with a wolf, but your own self-restraint is being tested with the small cries you’re letting out.

“ah-,” you pathetically squeak out, “ahh…! michael- michael, please- i can’t do this!”

“yes, you can,” he promptly corrects you. his thrusts are shallow, granting you the rare mercy of sparing you from being speared in half on his entire length. “look at you… you’re starting to feel good, aren’t you? i can feel everything… that little cunt of yours won’t stop tightening up around me. you’re squeezing so much! it’s like your pussy knows better than you who you’re meant to be with.”

your mind shakes. it’s all you can do to keep yourself conscious. all the stimuli are too much: the anxiety, the pleasure, the adrenaline. your thoughts are being smoothed over, all logic coming to a screeching halt as the tightness welling up in your womb is all that your body can focus on. you hate how easily his name falls out of your mouth, how easily you find it to moan, and the wolfboy eagerly devours the attention you give him.

how angelic you must look to him right now! his mate, his precious mate, moaning out his name in pleasure, no matter how terrified they are of him! he moans softly too, and he can’t help but buck his hips deeper and harder into you. your voice and all your little noises are too adorable to him, and he just wants it all.

“you like it, don’t you? yeah, i know it’s starting to feel good. give in to me. you don’t have to do anything but let me have my way.” his breath is hot and heavy and tinged with the sharp tang of blood. you cringe when he kisses at your neck and cheeks again, but with how rapidly his hips are picking up at the rhythm, your thighs tremble dangerously. “i’ll make you cum again and again… oh, you’re just so lovely…”

your cunt sucks him in greedily. feeling his cock rub against your walls and prod dangerously at your cervix makes you grow blank, and your body keeps reacting more and more to what the wolfboy is doing to you. you wonder if this is what people mean when they say they’re being fucked stupid, and if it isn’t, whatever he’s doing to you is coming horribly close.

“fuck…! fuck- no- michael- michael, please-,” you whimper out. you two both know perfectly well that your cries are from how good it feels, but you still refuse to verbalize it properly. michael smiles into the curve of your throat, and he kisses your jugular with what you can only describe as a sickly kind of affection.

“what are you asking for, my love?” he chuckles endearingly. you sob, and your toes curl into the disheveled bed when his cock slides into you just right. your vision skews its axis slightly, and you let out a sharp exhale, mouth lolling open a little. he nips at your skin with his sharp teeth to snap you back to life. “tell me properly with those human words you’re so proud of. ‘please fuck me harder, michael! make love to your wife! give me more of your cock!’”

your cheeks burn with humiliation when he ridicules you, but deep down, you don’t know if you can wholeheartedly refute him. you do want more of him. you do want him to fuck you harder. your cunt purrs in delight every time he slides in and out of your slick hole, and his cock manages to ruthlessly hit all the right places.

it’s unfair. it’s unfair how everything’s stacked against you.

you must have ignored him for too long. michael frowns disapprovingly, and a low growl vibrates in his throat. he ducks his head and bites down on your shoulder, sharp teeth digging themselves into the curves of your soft flesh. you scream out in pain, your walls clamping down on him and another flurry of torturous pleasure shreds your stomach.

“p-please fuck me harder, michael…!” you’re fully crying. your words don’t sound like your own, and you certainly don’t feel like yourself. the tears and snot smeared all over your face makes you feel like some lowlife, and you hate the way he forces you to beg for him. “make love to me… give me- give me more of your cock!”

“see?” he licks his lips, and he grins devilishly as you as he pulls away from your now-marked shoulder. “that wasn’t so bad, was it? nothing wrong with you for wanting more from your husband. i’ll gladly indulge my darling.”

a shaky scream pounds at your chest, and blinding hot pleasure overwhelms your head as he picks up his pace. your moans reach a high-pitched squeal as he fucks himself into you, his cock rapidly pulling in and out of your pulsing hole. it’s not like you make it particularly easy for him either; your disgustingly tight pussy walls cling to him and almost refuse to let him go.

does your body love his dick that much? does your cunt want to savor the feeling of him stretching it out that badly? those thoughts make kaiser swell with pride as he reaches a fast rhythm. despite how sloppily and quickly he’s ramming his whole length into you to make sure you feel every single bit of his dick, he still makes sure that each thrust has his heavy cockhead drilling right at your womb.

he prods at your deepest parts, shamelessly making sure that your womb knows it’s time to be bred. it’s time for him to fill you up with his cum, to fuck a baby into you, to force every part of your body to be tainted with him. from inside and out, from outside to in, kaiser wants to selfishly claim every part of you. that’s what good husbands do to their wives, don’t they? that’s what your folk—the human folk—did, right?

the tightness that gnaws at your core refuses to relent. your arousal runs rampant through your veins, and it feels like your guts are tying themselves into a knot. you don’t know how else to describe the heat that mounts in your core and inside your head. your body and conscience are at odds with each other. your brain rejects michael, your mouth begs for him to hold you and fuck you harder, and your hole sucks him in like it doesn’t want to let go.

“that’s my pretty wife. you have such a fucking slutty body- begging for your husband feels good, yeah? i know, i know, darling,” he drinks up your tears, his hot tongue lapping languidly at your face. you choke back another sob, and he moves to steal a kiss. his tongue invades your mouth, and your eyes gloss over. you’re overwhelmed with his presence. it smells like him, tastes like him, feels like him. you’re crying out and mewling in pleasure into his mouth, and he literally eats up every single one of your lewd noises.

his balls slap against your ass, desperate to empty themselves into you. his cock twitches and throbs inside you, making you shudder in delight. it’s a sick kind of lovemaking, if you could even call it that. your own slick dribbles down between your legs, and the lubrication only makes it easier for michael to greedily shove his cock into your fluttering cunt.

“can’t take anymore- michael, ‘m gonna lose my mind-!” you breathe out. you hate to admit it. you don’t want to tell him how stupidly close you are. you blame how monstrously huge his cock is; how else would he be destroying your body in such an inhuman way? your vision is unstable, blurring even more around your teary edges, and the heat that licks inside of you is unbearable.

michael knows it. he can feel it. the way the velvety lining of your cunt coaxes his cock right up to your cervix, the way it keeps squeezing him and writhing around his sensitive inches, the way your own voice seems to hike higher and higher. your legs tremble underneath him, and michael is thrilled to know just how far he’s successfully broken you. the shame and embarrassment that’s scribbled all over your face makes him almost uncontrollably giddy.

“are you gonna cum, darling? did my cock make you feel that good?” he laughs mockingly. his words are like thorns against your ears, yet with how roughly he’s pounding into your pussy, having mounted you like the uncivilized animal he was, you couldn’t deny it. he’s a predator through and through, and with you trapped in his reach like prey, you know all too well that he’ll be moving in for the kill soon.

the insatiable tightness inside you teeters on the brink. you’re barely holding on, each breath growing more strained than the last. michael doesn’t let up his pace, continuing to rut into you. each snap of his hips has you close, so close, so fucking close—you don’t want him to stop. you clench your eyes shut, bracing yourself to hurtle headfirst into the crash, to topple finally past the point of no return where you would irrevocably become the wolf’s.

“i’m cumming…! ah- michael- cumming- cumming…!”

heat rips through your body in half. you throw your head back, the foreign feeling consuming you whole as if you had been thrown directly into fire. your cunt clamps down on the boy’s cock, and it feels like he’s about to split you into two. your vision completely blurs, and the world rushes around your senses. it’s too much yet not enough at the same time, and you rake your nails down the wolf’s bare back with such a fervor that you must have shredded up his skin and drawn blood.

you shake and squirm and thrash underneath him, but no matter how much you writhe against his body, michael won’t let his grip on you go. he relentlessly fucks you through your orgasm, leaving you a sobbing mess as your juices squirt out of your abused hole and drip down onto the shaky bed. his cock pounds harder and harder, and he groans out as he feels your slick and pulsing walls flutter and clench around him.

“hah- that’s what i thought-,” he chuckles. you can’t breathe. you can’t think. the incessant throbbing in your stomach is still there, but it’s morphed from arousal into something a little more painful. he’s overstimulating your already overrun cunt. “your husband’s dick is that good, isn’t it? don’t worry; i’ll fuck you like this as much as you want… i’ll get you to cum over and over again.”

you dumbly shake your head. your head is foggy, and the throes of your climax don’t want to let you go. “n-o… can’t take any more- no more- don’t want any more…!”

“you’re going to take it, like the good wife you are. you don’t get a choice in this. i’m your husband,” he snarls. you shudder, whimpering in weak protest as he continues using you. it hurts, and it burns, and the coil that refuses to let up in your stomach makes you feel sick. how much longer could this monster last? it feels like he’s been having sex and using your body forever, but even after ripping an earth-shattering orgasm from you, he still hasn’t cum yet.

“it hurts- i can’t do it…!” you smack at his chest again, but you know he won’t let you go. your tears sparkle cruelly on your cheeks, and michael sighs lovingly as he laps at your face. he swings back and forth constantly between treating you like you were a mere bug to cherishing you. was this some kind of karmic revenge from the universe for thinking so lowly of your own village? the home that seemed so far away now?

“take it- take it- fuck- let me make you my proper wife…” fear floods your body when you can feel his cock twitch dangerously deep inside you, your bruised cervix contracting and sucking him in. his balls tighten and continue to slap against your ass, but with how quickly and frantic his movements are, he’s going to cum. “fill you up with my pups… we’ll be such a happy family together-”

your eyes shoot open. cold reality splashes over you as if slapping you back to your senses, even in the midst of being manhandled. “no! no, no…! don’t! please, please, michael- that’s the one thing you can’t do! don’t cum inside- i don’t want to get pregnant with your babies!”

he grits his teeth, and he presses his entire body weight on top of you, determined to keep you physically where you are. he’s determined to make sure you can’t escape from his grasp, as if you’d be able to go anywhere with how disheveled and haunted you are. it’s a good look for you, second only to the loving glances he knows you’d never spare him.

“shut up, shut up…! this is your job, this is what you’re supposed to do! this is what lovers do!” he thrusts once, twice, and when he brings his hips down one final time, your fate is sealed. his own cry dies out, buried deep inside his throat as he cums deep and hard into you. your breath lodges into your neck, leaving you with nothing but bitter defeat and the taste of uncertainty all over your mouth.

his cum spurts everywhere, and it floods your womb. it burns and goes everywhere, painting your insides a pretty shade of ivory white, and you can feel every drop of it flowing into you. it’s poison, it’s heavy, and it’s awful, yet your cunt has no choice but to take every little bit of it. you bite down on the inside of your cheek as it starts to eke out, and you force yourself to endure it. you have no choice but to; this is what survival is for you now. this is the only answer you have now.

you don’t know how you’re going to live with this. you try to console yourself by telling yourself that you had gotten over the worst, but you know that you haven’t. you never will.

“nnghg…!” a stray cry slips from your mouth when something tight and way too big for you to take invades your strained hole. a sharp pain invades and spearheads through you, and your entire body stiffens as his large knot shoves its way into your plush and stretched out pussy. his cum overwhelms your body, stretching out every inch of your battered womb. your stomach bulges just slightly, feeling stuffed to the very brim.

michael nearly collapses on top of you, keeping you folded in half and in a perfect, vulnerable breeding position. his eyes are blown open wide and glossed over in a kind of drunken stupor, yet he refuses to let you go in any capacity. it’s not like you have the physical means to anyway; you’re already so weak from having him force himself onto you, and the pain of being bred and knotted is taking everything in you to not pass out right there and then.

he reaches towards your face, cupping your tear-stained and broken expression with his large palm. you don’t know if the feeling that stirs in your gut is simply the aftershocks of sex or pity towards yourself, but seeing michael look down at you with such a triumphant yet lovestricken gaze isn’t doing your any favors. you know you have no choice but to get pregnant with his children, to watch in horror as your body turns into nothing but a host for these parasites he’s determined to fuck into you over and over, not a single squeeze of semen going to waste with the knot he’s plugged you up with.

“we’ll be perfect together,” he whispers. his words are almost like a mantra he’s brainwashing you with. you wonder who needs it more, the manipulator or the one being manipulated. everything feels like a punishment to you. just where did you go wrong? were you too ambitious for your own good? too hopeful? too willing to jump at the first opportunity for escape that came your way, not caring to see if any part of the rosy details were traps?

or maybe the worst part was that you might have done nothing wrong at all. maybe this was all a twisted machination of the universe. maybe just like what michael believed, you were destined to fall into the wolf’s grasp one way or another, to disappear from the face of society and the world as you knew it, to have him drag you off into the darkness and to become the broken but beautiful wolf’s bride that he must have dreamt of forever.

“i love you.” he kisses you, and you don’t have the strength nor the courage to say those blasted words back to him. it’s not like you could say them back sincerely either. instead you avert his gaze, turning your face towards the red scraps of your cloak that lay on the ground as if they were miniature corpses of their own, left over from a long lost war.

you hope your mother can forgive you when she realizes you won't ever come back home.

KINKTOBER 2023—le cinquième jour, le dernier jour.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk smut #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing

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frannyzooey · 2 years ago

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The Dinner

Marcus Moreno x f!college reader

The Secret Universe

Rating: Explicit, Daddy Kink™ (seriously, like a lot)

A/N: I have many people to thank for this one: @imaswellkid @the-ginger-hedge-witch @whatsnewalycat @obiknights and the amazing @the-scandalorian - every single one of them gave me the most amazing advice, but also gave me endless reassurance when I needed it, and I could never thank them enough. Sometimes it really takes a village ❤

“How is stats this semester? Need any help?”

You take a slow sip of your ice water, listening.

“It’s okay,” Missy replies. “Better, now that I signed up for tutoring during my free period, which — “ she points her fork at her father, who currently has a slightly smug expression on his face, “— totally sucks. I know you said it would help, and it did, but at what cost, dad?”

His shoulders move as he huffs a laugh and he pokes around his dinner plate, spearing some roasted broccoli. Shrugging, he glances at you. “Is a couple of hours a week impacting your guys' social life that bad?”

“No, sir,” you answer with a polite smile.

The title slips off your tongue with ease, and his playful expression falters for a moment.

Clearing his throat, he shifts in his chair. “That’s what I thought.”

He takes a swallow of his water — a small sip, then a larger one — and the three of you continue to eat.

The dining room where you sit is seldom used, but cozy. The lighting dim but inviting, the sparse surface of the table lends it a more formal appearance and you think about how much you would have preferred to eat at the table in the kitchen. The one you passed earlier, cluttered with mail, magazines, keys, and other things that never really have any other home than a flat surface in the kitchen.

Eating there would have made you feel more at ease. Eating here makes you feel more like a guest. And with Marcus at the head of the table, the formality of the seating arrangement pulls at you: a constant reminder of who he is.

Forks slide against plates, glasses being set down with a muted thud on the wooden surface of the table and when Missy reaches for another bread roll, a glance over at him has you noticing his body language.

He’s looking everywhere but you – at a painting on the wall, at his half eaten plate, at the condensation gathering on his glass. He lets his hand rest around the glass, his thumb swiping through the water and a thrumming, heady pulse that Missy seems oblivious to grows until it fills the space between your chairs.

Swallowing, you place your elbow on the table near his own. A muscle twitches in his jaw, and his attention turns back to Missy.

“What else is new?” he asks. “I never hear from you anymore. The room still okay? The bed still make that funny noise?”

Missy frowns, holding a bite of chicken aloft in front of her mouth. “How did you know about that?”

Marcus sits up straight, shifting again in his chair and opening his mouth as if getting ready to speak, but Missy interrupts him.

“Oh yea, it was there on move in day,” she remembers. “Whatever. No, we got that tool kit out that you gave me at the beginning of the year and fixed it yesterday. A real girl boss moment.”

She looks over at you and grins, and you return it despite the rapid beat of your heart.

��Yea,” you add, not allowing your eyes to stray from her face. “You killed it.”

You can feel his eyes on you, aware out of the corner of your eye how they slide down your frame and back up again. Whether he’s conscious of it or not, he’s been doing it all night and you want nothing more than to return the look, but you don’t.

“You ladies have any plans for the weekend?” Marcus asks.

Missy nods, excitement filling her eyes. “Yea, I think so? I got laundry and stuff to catch up on, but there is this party tomorrow night I wanna go to. I got a text about it earlier, I think it’s around 8ish?”

A small frown appears between Marcus’s brows. “Where’s it at? Around here?”

“Yea, I think so? I’m not really sure. I’ll have to look up the address or something.”

He doesn’t like that answer, you can tell by the way his frown doesn’t go away and you chance a peek at his face while he’s distracted. A pulsing beat gathers between your thighs, at both the sternness of his expression but also the care behind it.

“Well,” he continues, taking another bite of dinner. “Let me know, okay? I’ll drop you off and pick you up.”

“Dad,” Missy playfully whines. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He rolls his eyes, stretching his legs out under the table and when one of his knees knocks into yours, you still.

His eyes glance down, a short, apologetic smile showing briefly in your direction but he doesn’t move it. It stays there, his leg shifting just enough to press against yours with intent and as the dinner goes on, you resist the urge to smile.

–

You met them both for the first time on move-in day.

Cars lined along the driveway to the dorms with their trunks crammed full of new bedding and boxes and the bare essentials for kitchens and showers, you noticed them right away.

Missy, true to the picture she emailed you weeks ago when introducing herself as your new roommate, and Marcus, when he stepped around the side of the car to open the trunk. Close-cropped dark hair shone browner in the sun, the strands neatly combed into place, yet slightly curled with the humidity. His shirt stretched tight across his wide shoulders, tucked neatly into dress pants that fit him perfectly. The fabric pulled across his back when he leaned forward to reach in for the first boxes and when Missy shouted your name, he turned around.

You had to pull your eyes away from his face to greet her with a shy smile.

He stuck around the entire morning – making sure the lofts were set up correctly, helping move furniture, his kind, good humored eyes on his daughter as he took in her first day at college. He offered to take the two of you out to lunch in celebration, but before you could reply, Missy shooed him away.

“We’re gonna go grab a coffee or something. Get to know each other. You can get outta here, dad. Thanks for the help.”

You could tell she genuinely meant it, but the paltry thanks wasn’t enough in your opinion. He had already done more than your parents had ever done for you, and you wondered what it was like to grow up in a house where it happened so often you took it for granted. Your parents hadn’t even bothered to give you a ride on your first day, you had taken the bus with your meager boxes.

He humored her, giving her a soft smile and when he turned to say goodbye to you, you made sure to hold his gaze when you thanked him.

“Not a problem,” he replied sincerely. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

–

The two of them clear the plates while you grab what you can from the table, and it’s apparent that they have their own shorthand method of communication with each other. She clears, he starts the dishwater. She empties scraps into the trash to stack plates neatly by the sink, and when you help her, his eyes linger on your mouth when he turns to say thank you.

A routine that had never taken place in your own home, you revel in the roles everyone plays. The comfort of them, the domesticity. You imagine the two of them doing this every night before Missy left for college, and the mental image of Marcus standing at the sink with his t-shirt stretched over the strong muscles of his back warms you from the inside out. Even more when you think about him reminding Missy to clear her place, or asking her what she wants in her lunch tomorrow.

The qualities of a dad: one who does because he cares, but also guides.

Done clearing, Missy leaves the room, the telltale sound of the washer door opening down the hall, and Marcus stills at the sink, listening.

“Listen, don’t jam it all in there like last time, okay?” he warns, his eyes looking up at the ceiling. “You can do more than one load. No rush, Missy, okay?”

“Yea, yea, I got it,” she yells back, and he sighs, shaking his head. You meet his eye in a knowing look, and the corner of his lips pulls up in a rueful smile.

“She almost broke it last time, trying to fit about a month of clothes in all at once.”

You laugh, and nod. “She does that at the dorm too.”

He shakes his head, pushing his hands into the water.

“You don’t need to use those machines — either of you. You’re always welcome to come over and do it here,” he offers, searching in the sudsy water for a plate. Finding it, he begins scrubbing it with a rag. “Either of you. Even if she can’t come, you can.”

A pause.

“Anytime you want.”

The invitation hangs between the two of you in the silence, and you keep your eyes on his forearms as they flex above the suds. A sudden, unbidden image of them flexing between your thighs flashes through your mind, the weight of his fingers felt inside you.

His voice lowers. “We could even plan it that way, so we don’t have to keep…“

He gives you a knowing look, and guilt gnaws at you as you listen to Missy hum in the next room.

“It’s not that I don’t want that,” you explain, your voice keeping quiet. “I just don’t want…” Uncertainty flashes across your features and when you look up, you find that he’s already looking at you.

“Don’t want what?” he asks.

Unsure how to put your fear into words, you hesitate. Moving your meetings to his house somehow makes them more of an offense in your mind. In the space he shares with his daughter; their family home.

The duality of the man standing next to you has been messing with you all night: the Marcus that stands beside you now versus the Marcus that you know. The unassuming, kind face of a good father masking the hooded lust you know his eyes contain. The strength held in his arms when he takes the trash out; the flex of them under your bare knees when he spreads you wide. His plush bottom lip in a soft smile for his daughter; the same pressing against your skin, your mouth, between your legs.

A secret shadow follows him around constantly, fleeting slices of the man you know appearing if you watch him long enough. His throaty laugh, the spread of his thighs on the couch, the flex of his jaw.

Seeing him here in his kitchen or at the head of the dining room table has the men merging in your mind despite your ability, until now, to keep them separate. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth, thinking.

“Don’t want what?” he repeats, softer this time, tenderness curling around the words and you’re about to answer when Missy walks back into the kitchen.

“Hey, you don’t have to help him with that. I got it.”

He stands taller, shifting away from you and you back up from the sink, making room for her. She immediately scoops a delicate mound of bubbles and flicks them at Marcus, laughing when he grimaces with a chuckle. The teasing makes you smile.

He’s so good with her — so patient, and kind, and attentive. So genuinely invested in her answers in a way you’d never experienced, and though you are happy for your best friend in that she has such a doting parent, you’d be lying if you said a little jealousy never crept into your heart when you watched them.

Not because you wanted either of them to choose you, but because they so clearly had each other. Someone to depend on; a traditional parental/child relationship full of trust and respect and love.

You watch them for a moment as they work in tandem, their mannerisms similar from behind.

“I’m gonna take a shower before bed,” you announce, and excusing yourself from the room, you leave them to finish the dishes.

—

“I didn’t think you were gonna come.”

Down the hall from his room and across from Missy’s, the guest bedroom door clicks shut quietly in the dark. The shuffle of sheets whispering as you shift to make room for him in the bed, the mattress dips when he joins you, the heat of his body felt close. His hands reach for you, pulling you closer and there are no other words spoken as his mouth meets yours, deepening the kiss immediately.

His tongue slides against your own, your taste familiar and maddeningly addictive, and he groans deeply into it, rolling you onto your back.

Beneath the solid weight of his body is your favorite place – secure, safe, desired, wanted. Trapped between the soft bed and the scent of his warm skin, his mouth takes and takes and takes from yours until you’re drunk with arousal beneath him, wanting to stay there forever.

“I wanted you so bad at dinner,” he breathes in a low confession. “So fucking bad, even when you walked through the door.”

Every one of his words is matched with a weighted grind of his hips into the cradle of your thighs, and you roll right back against him, a soft sound catching in your throat at the delicious pressure. There is something that makes you weak about his voice in general, but when he swears – especially in his desperation to express how much he’s wanted you – it lights a path straight from your ears to your center; need blooming fierce and bright.

You would tell him how much you thought about him just as much if his mouth didn’t immediately cover yours again, and pushing your fingers through his close-cropped dark hair, you match his urgency. Your knees hitch higher around his broad torso, your thighs tightening with every flex of your hips up and the stiff length of his cock underneath his sleep pants fits perfectly along the damp seam darkening your underwear.

You can feel the thick ridge of it, aching for the filling heft as he grinds his hips against you again and again, and whimpering for more underneath him, the words slip out.

“Please, daddy.”

He stills for a split second, breaking the kiss as a shudder slips through him and a wash of embarrassed heat floods your face, but it’s quickly replaced with arousal when he groans as if in pain, his furrowed brow pressed into the plane of your chest.

His hand splays against your side to keep you in place with a pained press of his fingers. “Jesus Christ, baby, you can’t — you can’t say things like that. Please. Please.”

“But I want it,” you whisper.

You do. You’ve wanted it ever since you met him, just knowing by looking at him that he would give you what you need. So thoughtful, so considerate and kind, so attentive and warm but also very much a man – a handsome, understated man with needs that showed clear on his face every time you met him after that first time.

The second, third, fourth time you met him, the flicker of interest in his dark brown eyes.

The magnetic, heady pulse of attraction that filled the small room when he showed up once while Missy was at class.

The lunch that he invited you to instead of her, and the undivided attention he gave you from across the table. The way he reminded you to buckle your seatbelt, and the way you leaned over and kissed him when he waited a beat too long reluctantly saying goodbye outside your dorm, on the street.

That first, tentative kiss after he followed you back to your room at the reassurance Missy had classes that afternoon, and the frown furrowed between his brows, both at how wrong it was to want this and relief at finally giving in.

The soft cotton of your sheets sliding against your bare back, the way his body seemed too big for the narrow twin.

His giving mouth, soothing guidance rumbled in his deep voice.

Something that’s taken root in your mind with every time he brings you to bed, you don’t know how else to describe how you want to be tucked into his side to be made felt safe and secure, while also fucked deep into the mattress until you’re sobbing with fullness.

Being here with him has made the need for it unbearable, and what you do know is that no matter what you want, he’ll give it to you.

Your confession is a quiet one that lingers in the air and he looks up, his doleful, brown eyes finding yours. They stay there, searching for the truth and when he finds it in your slightly ashamed expression, he pulls himself up until you are face to face.

“Yea?” he asks, soothing stray hairs at your temple. “You want a daddy?”

The word gives him pause, but his cock hardens painfully against the cool sheets and when you nod, the vulnerability shown on your face is so open that he finds himself mirroring it, wanting to soothe.

He not only understands but wants, so very badly.

“Okay, okay,” he agrees. The tension in your body drains as you soften underneath him; pliant and moldable for his needs. “Say it again, baby.”

“Daddy,” you whisper in a relieved rush, your plush lips parting only just.

His hooded eyes watch the word slip from your mouth, and his thumb skates along the plump cushion of your bottom lip, before pushing just inside. He slides his thumb over the wet muscle of your tongue, letting you suck on it.

Bright need swells and aches between his thighs, your soft, lush skin slipping against his as you squirm in need underneath him and he slips his thumb from your mouth before pressing his lips to yours with a rough kiss.

Desperate to feel the clutch of your tight, wet cunt, he reaches down to open you up for him, his hand slipping beneath your panties and his fingers sliding with a familiar swipe through your soaked curls. He finds the dip where you need him most, your arousal soaking the pads of his competent touch and his breathing quickens, his eyes flitting between your face and his cotton covered hand.

The same fingers that made dinner, that queued up the movie, that clasped under his chin when he listened to Missy talk. The same ones that held the steering wheel in a loose grip as he drove you to the store.

They’ve slid into your mouth before, and then your cunt. Brushed against the puckered rim of your asshole, swirled with divine pressure over your clit, and filled you to the brim until you cried out, your cunt a snug slip around them.

Two fill you now with an urgent slide, the action making him swallow the soft catch of your whine and the ease in which he slips them in and out is aided by how wet and ready you are for him.

Always so wet; his perfect girl.

“When you called me ‘sir’ at the dinner table,” he pants, nuzzling the bridge of his nose along your jaw as he looks down at his hand. Your thighs open wider for him, and you softly moan, chasing the thick fill of his fingers. “I almost fucking lost it. So sweet. So sweet, baby.”

“Just – just for you.” Your brow furrowed in pleasure, you chase what he’s building inside you, your small hand slipping down to cover his larger one. Your fingers push over his, guiding him as if he needs it, and the both of you get lost in the slick, consuming motion; his eyes glued on your parted mouth. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to say it. The daddy thing, I –”

“Don’t be sorry. No, fuck. Don’t be sorry, baby. I wanna hear it. I want it.”

His soothing words wash over you, your cunt accepting him deeper as he adds a third finger and before he gives you time to adjust, he’s slipping them from your wet heat, sliding them into his mouth with a suck. He groans with a frown, his lashes dark against his face as his eyes flutter shut and he shifts abruptly down the bed.

His fingers grip the band of your underwear and tug them roughly down your legs before the width of his shoulders forces your knees apart. The heat of his mouth felt in a humid gust against your spread, bared seam, he tugs you tight to his face, and the emptiness left by the sudden absence of his fingers is immediately replaced with his thick, eager tongue.

“Marcus!”

His whiskered cheeks brushing roughly against the tender skin on the inside of your thighs, he devours your cunt, his back flexing as he nearly pushes you up the bed in his hunger if not for the way his hands curl around the top of your thighs to hold you in place.

“Shhh, baby. Shhh,” he reminds you, and you let out a quiet sob, clasping your hand over your mouth.

He’s so much, a sensory overload being amplified by the darkness around you: the needy grip of his large hands, the slick slide of his tongue, the muffled groans he’s letting out between your legs.

“You taste so good, baby,” he breathes, his mouth dragging damply over the inside of your thigh with a thick kiss before he licks your clit with the flat of his tongue. He slides it from side to side with pressure, a motion that makes you bow off the bed.

Mindless with pleasure, you’re overcome with the need to anchor yourself to something — the direct attention is so much, too much — and your hands fist the sheets, your back arching.

“I washed it just for you, daddy.”

You should be embarrassed but all traces of shame are turned to cinder the second he groans deep and loud, the sound muffled by the way he immediately buries his face with an open mouthed kiss. It’s messy and decadent, his tongue pushing inside you and then it swipes lower.

Your hips jolt up to meet it; his low, satisfied groan sounding between your cheeks.

“Fuck,” you whine, the tip of his tongue pressing against the tight ring of muscle before he flattens it to lick a wide, wet stripe from the seam of your ass all the way to your clit. Another one, before he gives your soaked entrance a hungry kiss and the pressure of his face being buried so deep makes you grind against him, your hips moving in time with his, as he seeks his own relief against the sheets.

“I’m gonna — I’m gonna fucking come. Daddy, you’re gonna make me come.”

It’s a plea if he’s ever heard one, and he zeroes his focus in on your clit — circling it with his tongue before giving it a light suck. He keeps going as you thread your fingers into his hair with a tug, keeps going as you press your lips together to try to stifle your moans, and keeps going when your thighs tense around his cheeks and you come with a breathless whimper; his tongue swiping hungrily through the salt of your release.

All tension in your body gone, he kisses a path slowly up your body while you lay and catch your breath – up over the top of your thigh, the rounded curve of your hip, the soft, plush underside of your breast.

He cradles you to his chest, tugging you onto your side as his mouth drags along the line of your neck. He kisses a path over the skin and your hips shift, seeking his out. He can feel you squirming, looking for relief and bellies together, he rolls you onto your back, your hands working together to push his pajama bottoms down and off.

Your touch is back to frantic as he pulls from your mouth, his hands cradling the sides of your head to keep you in place as he gets his fill and you wind your legs around his waist, encouraging him to push inside.

He does – a motion that makes your moan get lost underneath his deeper one – and the snap of his hips is immediate and hard, the filling weight of his cock pushing the air from your lungs.

His lips kiss your closed eyelids, his tongue sweeping over the salt rimmed lashes where a tear lingers and his mouth finds the fragrant, soft skin below your ear. His lips press against it, his mustache tickling you, the roll of his hips never ceasing.

“You’re being so good for daddy. So good.”

Your eyes open and find his, and he throbs with how sincerely vulnerable you look underneath him right now, desperate to know you’re being good.

“You’re such a good girl. Always letting me fuck you the way I want. Always letting me take care of you, like you take care of me.” His lips find the corner of your mouth, the delicacy of the kiss in contrast with the way you have to dig your nails into his broad back to hang on as he fucks you harder and he pulls back just enough to look at your face.

“You’re so good, aren’t you, baby. Aren’t you.”

It’s not a question for you to answer, but rather a statement he needs you to confirm and you nod, a tiny frown of pleasure appearing between your brows as you shift rhythmically underneath him.

“My baby,” he murmurs, catching your mouth in a deep kiss. “My baby.”

Your hand trails down the line of his spine and splays over his tailbone, sweat beading along the skin as he fills, fills, fills and you widen your thighs, digging your fingers into the swell of his ass to force him deeper.

“Please, daddy. Please.”

His hips shift into a slow, weighted grind when you beg using those words. He never pulls all the way out, rather forcing himself so deep into the heart of you that you tremble with the need to come underneath him.

“You’re so fucking pretty. So pretty when you’re gonna come.”

His praise fills you with light from the inside out, pouring out through your sweat damp skin where it’s flush with his own and another tear slips free; your release both a bright, shining edge that he’s guiding you towards and a strong, powerful current that threatens to pull you under.

“Give it to me.”

His voice is husky and strained, a quiet plea for you to let go and when you do with a silent cry, the deep dimpled smile on his face is a proud one, equal parts awe and lust.

He follows shortly after, the tight, wet clutch of your cunt too much for him – but it’s your relieved face that makes him spend every ounce inside you with slow, smooth strokes until there is nothing left. You look so light underneath him, so content and drowsy and drunk with relief.

He can’t help himself when he bends to kiss the tear track that runs over your temple, giving you another kiss on the apple of your cheek.

“So good. You were so good.”

You’re so spent you can’t even kiss him back, rather letting him gently nudge you to meet his mouth and even then you let him take what he needs from your kiss swollen lips, opening up for him when his mouth demands it.

Eventually he shifts, just enough to settle beside you rather than on top, but you automatically follow the heat of his body, curling into his chest.

“There’s, uh —” he starts, closing his eyes. You watch the thud of his pulse under the tanned skin of his neck. He licks his plush lips, trying to catch his breath. “There’s milk and cereal — or eggs, if you want those in the morning. I didn’t know what you guys would want, so I —“

Your quiet laugh stops him and he looks down at you, smiling when he sees your expression.

“Are you really telling me about my breakfast options, like some kinda guest?”

“Yea, I guess I am,” he grins. “But you are a special guest in this house,” he replies, tugging you closer. His mouth finds the curve of your collarbone, his smile felt against the skin there. “Especially for me.”

“Guests really get the full treatment here, huh,” you tease. “Dinner, laundry, breakfast, their ass eate—“

You can almost feel his blush in the dark, his fingers immediately digging into your side to stop your sentence, and your stifled giggles fill the dark room but he doesn’t let up until you’re squirming underneath him, breathlessly begging him to stop.

“What?” you laugh, trying to keep quiet. “I liked that part of the turn down service.”

He grins, the knowing smile of a pleased man who is well aware he did good. He leans in, putting his mouth by your ear.

“Good to know. Maybe tomorrow the service will include it again.” He pulls back and winks, leaning back in to give you a quick, full kiss.

“I wish I could stay, but I better get back to my room.”

“I know.”

“See you in the morning?” he asks, so soft and mussed and hopeful yet grown; his voice low and husky. His eyes are soft with affection, his unwavering gaze showing that he genuinely wants to make sure you’re okay before he leaves.

His hand cradles the curve of your cheek, his thumb swiping along the line of your cheekbone and you tilt to press a kiss against the heel of it. Relief like you haven’t ever known floods through you, but more than that is what you feel underneath that earnest gaze.

Safe, secure. In both yourself, and what you mean to him.

“Yea. See you in the morning.”

He smiles, bending to place a delicate, warm kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight, baby.”

You sigh with contentment.

“Goodnight, daddy.”

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno/you #marcus moreno/reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x reader

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wh0re43van · 1 year ago

Text

Just friends- (Peter Maximoff X Reader)

Summary: While staying with the Maximoff family, you admit your feelings to your best friend, and he doesn’t seem to feel the same until you inform him that you’re going on a date with another guy

Word count: 4K

Warnings: angst, sad Peter, a brief mention of Unsolicited groping

I’m so thankful for the Maximoffs. They’re allowing to stay with them for a couple months after getting kicked out of my parents’ home. I’m rooming with my best friend of four years, and I’ve never been happier. As soon as he heard about my situation, he welcomed me into his home- into his bedroom- with open arms.

“Honey, I’m home,” The goofball announces as he walks into our temporally shared room holding two pizzas, a 2 liter of dr. pepper, a bag of breadsticks with all the fixings, and a rented copy of The Exorcist.

“Wow, what’s the occasion?” I giggle, sitting up in our his bed, setting down the book I had been reading.

With a fwp, he’s turned down the lights, popped the movie in and arranged the food at the foot of the bed before sitting beside me, now in his pajamas.

“It’s a party!” he gives me a cheesy grin, popping open the pizza box and pulling out two slices, handing one to me.

“Oh god, Peter are we really so lame that this is what we consider a party?” I laugh before taking a bite of the greasy pizza, still hot since Peter was able to get it here in less than three seconds.

“This is the best kind of party! Hanging with your best friend, piggin’ out on junk food, and watching a bitchin’ horror movie? What else could a dude ask for?” He says as he stuffs his face, licking his greasy fingers. I cant help but laugh at the man child sitting beside me, even though it hurts my heart a bit knowing that he only considers me his friend. Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than grateful for Peter (and his mother) being in my life, but I just always hoped for more. It’s been four years and nothing’s escalated despite my many attempts, so I guess it’s time to accept that. I mean, we’re out of high school now, were adults. If he hasn’t shown interest by now then I guess it’s a lost cause. “Besides,” he smacks his lips, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “The main thing that makes this a party is the fact that you’re here,” he gives a goofy wink, making my cheeks tint pink- but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“How flattering,” I nudge him playfully before opening the 2 liter, taking a sip out of the bottle then handing it to Peter. He mimics my action, then lets out a loud belch.

‘how in the hell does this man have me absolutely smitten over him,’ think to myself as he shoves an entire breadstick into his mouth.

“Whatever,” he chuckles looking away for a second.

“God damn Peter,” my eyes go wide when I see that he’s already eaten half a large pizza.

“What?” he asks as he holds his head up, his arm extended as he lets the cheese slide off the crust into his mouth. “Gotta fuel my metabolism, these rock hard abs don’t just appear overnight,” he snickers before lifting up his shirt, revealing his toned stomach, then takes another gulp out of the soda bottle.

“I guess your body does look pretty good for someone whose diet is 50% carbs and 50% sugar,” I tease, thanking whatever deity it is above us that the lights are too dim for him to see the blush rushing over my face as I stare at his bare stomach.

“You’d think the chicks would be all over this,” he wiggles his eyebrows before deepthroating another breadstick. “They wouldn’t know charm if it bit ‘em in the ass,” he mumbles through a mouth full of bread as marinara sauce drips down his face. “I mean come on, how do I not get girls?” He snickers as he wipes his grubby hands on his pants. I roll my eyes at the messy boy.

“Peter, I know you very well,” I reach for my second slice of pizza. “The reason you don’t get girls is because you can never tell when they’re flirting with you,” I tease, but meaning every word. He’s the dullest guy ever when it comes to picking up on social cues.

“I know,” he chuckles as he turns to look at me. “Real shame too. Sometimes I realize it after they’ve already walked away. Sucks cause I probably coulda’ lost my V-card by now if I understood the first thing about gals. I really can’t pick up on flirting” he says matter-o-factly as he takes a sip of soda.

“Oh, I know all too well, Peter,” I laugh out, my eyes focused on the tv screen. He gives a soft, almost confused laugh, then he’s silent for a minute before speaking up.

“Wait a minute,” he sits up straight in the bed. “Are you implying that even you’ve flirted with me?” he asks with wide eyes full of skepticism. I take a deep breath, sitting up to be eye level with him.

“Peter,” I start, he’s staring intently at me with his brows threaded in confusion. “The only reason I talked to you for the first time was because I thought you were cute,” I laugh out. How can he be so dense?! He stares at me in bewilderment in silence. I can see the gears turning in his head as he thinks back to our first encounter all those years ago.

“Oh my god!” he comes to the realization. “You were flirting with me that summer day in the arcade?” he asks still shocked. It makes my heart happy that he remembers the first time we met. “How did I not realize. God I’m stupid,” he slaps his palm to his forehead.

“Only took ya four years, Quickie,” I tease before taking a sip of Dr. Pepper. “Wasn’t the very first thing that I ever said to you: ‘You’re really good at that, handsome’?” I say and he repeats the quote with me, smiling and nodding. He remembers it word for word. “Come on man, how did you not know?” I chuckle. His eyes are still full of disbelief.

“I was really focused on the game!” his face turns red as he has another epiphany: “That probably wasn’t the only time, was it?” he asks, rubbing his hand on the back of neck, letting out a small laugh.

“God no,” I chuckle, a bit embarrassed but enjoying reminiscing on our friendship none the less. “Remember, two weeks after that, I invited you out to go roller skating?” I ask.

“Yeah of course, you were wearing that limited edition ‘Eagles’ shirt that you still to this day won’t let me touch,” he laughs. I thought that having this conversation would help me get over him, but hearing how well he remembers all our fondest memories together makes me swoon.

“Well, when I asked you, I meant it as a date,” I admit, watching his face once again fill with bewilderment. “But the whole time you were calling me dude and roughhousing me, I just assumed you either didn’t like me that way or you were to dumb to realize it was a date. Lucky for you, I had a lot of fun and chose to ignore it,” I nudge him playfully. He face palms himself again.

“Y/n, I had no idea. I never in a million years thought a girl as rad as you would be interested in me in that way, so the idea of a date never even crossed my mind,” he flops back on the bed, processing all of this new information. “Wait do you still flirt with me? How oblivious have I been? Oh my god am I still missing stuff?” he shoots back up in the bed once again..

“Peter,” I say flatly. “Just last week I changed right Infront of you. I literally stripped into just my bra and panties right next to the tv when you were playing Space Invaders,” I can’t believe this guy. He blushes thinking back to that moment.

“I thought we were just really comfortable with each other! We change infront of each other all the time,” he chuckles nervously. “I still tried not to look out of respect, but I’d be lying if I say I didn’t sneak a glance or two though,” he admits but looks away, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s alright Peter,” I sigh as I close up the pizza box before laying back to watch the movie. “Once a girl comes along that you’re actually interested in, I’m sure you’ll pick up on her signals,” I say not looking at him, accepting my defeat. He’s quiet for a moment.

“Well, how do I know?” he asks genuinely. I look at him, raising my eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. “Like, obviously I know a hot chick when I see one, but how do I know when I’m actually interested. I’m clueless y/n,” he lets out a light laugh after the last part, seeming a bit embarrassed as he intently awaits my answer.

“Well,” I prop myself up on my arm to look at him. “I guess it would have to be more than physical attraction. If you’re genuinely interested, then you’ll want more than her body, but also want more than just her friendship. You’ll want to talk to her, to just be in her presence. You’ll care about what she thinks about you. Stuff like that,” I shrug, not sure how to explain what attraction feels like to someone who claims to have never felt it before. He nods silently, absorbing my words. The fact that he hasn’t laughed in my face yet for admitting to liking him is giving me false hope that he could possibly feel the same way. I need this conversation to end soon.

“So it would have to be someone I can see a future with? Someone that I want to impress? Someone that I genuinely care about? But also someone who’s super smokin’?” he asks, wanting a genuine answer. I smile downwardly.

“You’re getting it now,” I sigh. “I’ll be jealous of whatever girl wins your heart over,” I laugh, holding my breath in anticipation for how he’s going to respond to that, preparing to have my hopes crushed so I can move on.

“Oh don’t worry,” he smirks. Here we go. “I’ll make room for the both of you,” he winks. And there it is. My stomach drops, but it’s out now. Now I know that he’s not interested, I know for sure that I’m going on this date tonight. Part of me hoped that Peter would admit his feelings and I could cancel this stupid date, but I have to get out there. “Oh! No, y/n I didn’t mean-” Peters smile drops, and he reaches for my arm.

“No, I get it. It’s cool, man,” I force a smile, standing from his bed, checking my wristwatch. “I gotta get ready for my date anyway. I didn’t even realize what time it was,” I say honestly as I walk over to my suitcase.

“Woah, what?” he zooms in front of me, blocking my bag. “Date?” he asks, a bit of panic in his voice. I scoff, pushing him to the side.

“Yeah, I went to the arcade yesterday while you were out with your mom, now I have a date,” I smile weakly as I strip, then slip into my dress before I walk over to my mirror that I hung on his wall to fix my makeup.

“No- y/n- i- that’s- who… whos your date with?” his words fall out a stumbled mess as if he can’t sort his thoughts from one another.

“Steve. Ya know, the one from the arcade that’s always trying to beat your high scores,” I explain as I brush my hair.

“Steve!?” He shouts in disbelief. “That asshole? Y/n come on, man!,” he almost sounds angry.

“Yeah?” I shrug as I apply some lip gloss. I see Peter pacing behind me in the reflection of the mirror.

“Steve? Really?” he throws his hands up.

“He’s cute. Plus, you know I have a thing for nerds,” I remind him. His face turns red. Why is he acting like this? He just crushed my dream of being with him and now he wants to act jealous?

“Cute?! You mean you’re not just going to be nice?” He sounds so shocked and almost hurt. I turn around to face him.

“I- of course Peter why would I-,” I’m completely flustered. “No.” I say sternly. “No Peter. You don’t get to do this. You had four years man, and just 15 minutes ago I admitted my feelings for you and you said that you didn’t feel the same,” I’m getting frustrated with him, I can feel my blood pressure raising out of anger and embarrassment.

“But that’s not- I didn’t- no you misunderstood!” he starts to raise his voice, laced with panic. “What if I do have feelings for you?” he asks with pleading eyes.

“Do not do this. Peter please don’t do this to me! You can’t suddenly have feelings for me just because I have a date with you nerd enemy!” I shout as my ears burn red with anger. “Don’t be immature,” I poke my finger to his chest, completely irate. He looks like his mind is running a thousand miles a minute. It takes him a couple seconds to rebuttal.

“No! I never said I don’t have feelings! Y/n I didn’t say that!” he shouts, but his voice isn’t angry, it’s worried as he places a hand on my heated cheek.

“No Peter,” I say calmly even though I’m beyond frustrated as I pull away from his touch. “You’re really hurting me right now. You’re the last guy I ever expected to fuck with my emotions like this,” tears well up in my eyes. I can’t believe what he’s doing. My ego was already bruised when he didn’t respond to my confession and now he’s trying to keep me from a date just because the dude plays video games just as well as him. Peter stares at me, his hand still outstretched in the air where he tried to console me. He doesn’t say anything.

Honk! Honk!

Steves car horn sounds from outside the Maximoff home, beckoning me.

“Please don’t go,” his voice is feeble. “Please just give me some time to think. Just five minutes to figure this out,” he pleads with desperate eyes. I almost give in, but I stay strong.

“Peter, there’s a guy outside this house that already has his feelings sorted. You stay here and figure it out. I’m leaving,” I seethe as I stare at his confused and hurt expression, almost making me apologize, but I’m too hurt and embarrassed. He doesn’t say anything, he just grips his fists so tight that his knuckles turn white, his jaw clenches, and I see that he’s holding back tears. I immediately turn to run up the steps because if I look at him for one more second, I would be holding him in my arms, telling him I’m sorry and letting him cry it out. Not today.

•

After Steve picked me up, we went to dinner, then to the drive-in theatre. I’m having… a decent time. He’s a little boring compared to Peter, no one can make me laugh like he can. I’m also a bit distracted at how I left my best friend. I think I may have been too hard on him. Now that I’ve calmed down, I think he really was just trying to sort things out. I know that Peter isn’t the most emotionally mature and definitely doesn’t have a way with words.

‘oh god, what have I done?’ I think to myself in horror.

“What do you say, huh?” Steves deep voice shakes me out of my thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” I smile sweetly. “What was that?” I bat my lashes at him, hoping he doesn’t notice that I’ve been thinking about another guy the whole time he’s been speaking to me.

“I said: Why don’t we move to back?” he smirks motioning towards his back seat.

“Uh,” I know exactly what he’s alluding to. Do I really want to go down that road? “Yeah, okay,” I smile. I guess I do. We get out of the vehicle and hop into the back. He immediately pulls me into his lap. I’m a bit taken back by his sudden grip on my body.

“You ever been touched by a real man?” he asks as he peppers kisses all over my neck as his cold hands slip under my dress without even asking. I’m shocked, disgusted, and confused.

“I-uh- can you stop please?” I pull arm out of his grip and crawl out of his lap.

“Hey, I paid for your food and your ticket. You owe me!” he shouts, grabbing my arm again. I have so much pent up rage from earlier, I didn’t even realize it when my hand shot out to slap him across the face full force. He looked at me stunned before getting out of his car, opening the door and literally throwing me out. He picks me up by shoulders and tosses me onto the dusty, bare, dirt. He drives away without a single word.

“What the fuck,” I mutter to myself as I stand up, brushing the dirt off myself. A young man from the next car over rushes to the scene, asking if I’m okay. I simply thank him for his concern, then take the walk of shame back to Peters house.

Now I remember why I waited for Peter for so long; He’s the only decent guy I’ve ever met. As if the silent, cold, horrifying walk back to the Maximoff house at midnight wasn’t punishment enough, once I arrive and enter his bedroom, the sight I see makes my heart break completely in two. I feel physical pain when I see Peter.

His room is dark as he’s laid on his couch, curled up In a blanket, staring at the starter screen on his Tank video game on the box Television. The flashing light reflects on his blank face, allowing me to see his bloodshot eyes, red nose, and puffy lips from crying. He hasn’t seemed to notice me enter the room. My own eyes immediately fill up with the tears I was trying so hard to hold back.

“Peter,” I let out a somber whisper. He jumps up, looking at me with wide, puffy eyes.

“Are you crying?” he zooms up to me, grabbing my arm. “Did he hurt you?” he asks, putting a hand on my cheek. How can he still care about my feelings after how I left things?

“I’m okay Peter,” I lean into his touch. “I should have listened to you, though. You were right about him,” my tear stained eyes meet his. His face flushes in anger.

“What did he do to you? Is he still here? I swear I’ll kill the guy!” He raises his voice with every sentence, balling his hands into fists.

“It’s- I, uhm, would rather not talk about it,” I look down avoiding his gaze.

“Y/n, did he hurt you, yes or no? That’s all I need to know,” He gently lifts my chin to meet his gaze again but I close my eyes. I can’t look at him with out the guilt from making him cry making me feel sick.

“…Yes,” I Whisper, not wanting to elaborate. With a fwp Peter’s gone. I hear the front door open, I rush out to the sidewalk.

“Where the fuck is he?” Peter screams in a tone that I rarely hear from him. He turns to look at me, his once sad expression now pure unfiltered anger: A look I’ve never seen on him before. I’m almost scared.

“He’s not here Peter, I had to walk home from the drive in,” I sigh. Peter looks at me as if he doesn’t believe what I’m saying. He kicks the neighbor’s trash can in anger. With a loud clang, the metal bin is sent flying down the street, his foot mark now permanently indented in the can.

‘Steve’s lucky he isn’t here right now. Jesus Christ’ I think to myself.

“Let’s just go inside, please. I need to talk to you,” I say softly as I grab his tensed arm. He looks at me, his expression softening before he allows me to lead him inside.

I bring him in and sit him down on the couch, it’s silent for a few beats, neither one of us want to look at the other one.

“I’m sorry,” we both blurt out at the same time, snapping our heads to look at each other. The awkwardness subsides as we smile at each other. We both try to start our apology at the same time, then erupt into giggles.

“Let me go first,” I put a light hand on Peters knee. He shakes his head ‘no’.

“No. I’m going first. I finally got everything sorted out,” he takes a deep breath. “Y/n, I do have feelings for you and I’m sorry. I’m just a stupid boy that never learned how to process emotions. You’re amazing! You’re my best friend and I feel so horrible that I hurt you. When you were explaining what it felt like to be attracted to someone, you just explained word for word how I feel about you. I was just confused, everything happened so fast, and I honestly thought you were joking with me at first. I’ve always kind of had the hots for you, but I never in a million years thought that you could ever be attracted to me, so I locked those thoughts away. I’m sorry that I couldn’t express this sooner. I’m so so sorry,” he says in a rush of words, I almost have trouble keeping up with the words coming out of his mouth. His big brown puppy eyes scan my face for my reaction. I just smile at him, tears once again swelling in my eyes for about the third time tonight.

“Peter, you’re such a sweet guy,” I grin and his face beams with joy. “I was such an asshole to you earlier… I’m sorry. My ego and my heart were hurt and I should not have taken that out on you. The way that you still cared about me when I got back from that awful date even though I had upset you right before I left just shows how amazing of a person you are. You are the best thing in my life,” a tear rolls down my cheek, Peter quickly wipes it away.

“Hey, come here,” he says softly before pulling me into his chest. As he pulls me into his strong arms, the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body makes me forget about every problem I’ve ever had. The steady rise and fall of his chest and his fingers running though my hair could put me to sleep in an instant. “I don’t blame you for anything. That situion just unfolded really poorly and we both said some things we shouldn’t have, but that’s over now,” he kisses my forehead as I snuggle further into him.

“Thank you, Peter,” I yawn as I wrap my arms around his torso. He continues brushing his fingers through my hair and tracing mindless designs on my back, I feel myself drifting off to sleep, all the stress I had been feeling now completely subsided. I lay in his arms, wrapped in comfort as if he’s a warm towel straight out of the dryer. I hear him whisper,

“Goodnight, beautiful,” as he clicks off the tv with the remote. A small smile creeps onto my lips as I slip off to sleep.

#evan peters #evan peters smut #ahs cult #ahs hotel #jimmy darling smut #kai anderson #kit walker smut #ahs asylum #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #evan peters x reader #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff #warren lipka smut #warren lipka #tate langdon smut #tate langdon

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spicypepperjack · 3 months ago

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Billy: Agatha, how many witches have you consumed throughout the years?

Agatha: Don't know. How much bread have you eaten in your life?

#agatha all along #billy maximoff #agatha harkness #jojo's bizarre adventure #wiccan #marvel #agatha spoilers

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 8 months ago

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ohhh stede totally grew up in a "you will eat what is put on your plate and you won't dare complain because elsewhere kids are starving" household and now he just suffer through food he hates otherwise he's being ungrateful and bad and ed has to break that little life-long habit

Oh, without a single doubt in my mind! He absolutely wouldn't dream of saying shit about it, he'd just put on a stiff upper lip and shovel that shit down. He probably feels awful if he's too full to finish a meal completely, too - growing up leftovers were seen as proof of you being picky and ungrateful.

I think Ed also most likely has some hangups around food, but in the opposite direction. I imagine him stressing at like 7 years old because he hears his mama talking to herself when she thinks he can't hear about how to stretch half a loaf of bread into meals for both of them all week long. I think he's probably very likely to try to ration his meals, stretch them out as long as they'll last - persistent food insecurity will do that to you, even if you no longer have to worry where your next meal is coming from. At any given time he can tell you exactly how many days' worth of meals they have in their house.

And this'll cause some communication problems at first! Stede cooks something nice and Ed says he loves it but he only ate one small plate, what's that about? Ed accidentally burnt Stede's portion of fish and didn't notice until Stede had already eaten almost all of it without complaint - has he just been suffering through Ed's cooking without trusting him enough to say he doesn't like something?

But eventually they're gonna find the root issues and they're going to help each other so much. When Ed's finished his self-assigned portion, Stede'll gently ask if he's still hungry and if he maybe wants more. Ed will remind Stede that he doesn't have to eat anything he doesn't want to, that it helps no one when he suffers, that he's not just unusually picky or awful and sometimes everyone just doesn't like some things. And eventually Ed will never have to go to bed without a full tummy and Stede will be able to actually say when he doesn't like something so they can find him something to eat that he will like!

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oxymorondrawings · 4 months ago

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HOW MANY BREADS HAVE YOU EATEN IN YOUR LIFE????

plan on making more of these with different animated vampires

#jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #dio #dio brando #fanart #jjba fanart #dio fanart

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targent · 22 days ago

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How many times did you spill beans in bed in 2024?

how many breads have you eaten in your life

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marina41trench · 3 days ago

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Yotsuba Tamaki - Idol's Daily Life [2/5]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Custom-made Challenge

Tamaki: Iorin, Isumiiiiiin!!

Tamaki: I got 3 rabbit breads!

Tamaki:

Tsumugi: Great work, Tamaki-san!

The bread seems delicious, but I presume this was sent to the wrong person?

Tamaki: Ah

Tamaki: Crap, my bad

Tamaki: I’m supposed to send it to Iorin and Isumin

Tamaki:

Tsumugi: Exactly my thoughts! (laugh)

It’s completely fine!

Tsumugi: Are you currently on lunch break?

Tamaki: Yeah! I just ran to the school canteen!

Tamaki: I bought Iorin and Isumin’s share!

Tamaki: They couldn’t go because they had errands

CHOICE

1) What were they asked to do?

Tamaki: Class duty! The teacher called them to the staff room so they told me to buy rabbit bread on break time and they seem irritated lolol

2) What’s the flavor of the rabbit bread?

Tamaki: Chocolate! There’s lots of cream inside!

There’s a trick on how to eat it coz if you bite it carelessly the cream will ooze out

3) How do you spend your lunch break?

Tamaki: Hmm, I do a lot of things?

Sometimes I play basketball, sometimes I play games

I like listening to Sou-chan’s music to take a nap

Tamaki: Have you eaten your lunch?

Tsumugi: Yes! Me and Banri-san went to the cafe you told me about that lets you have various custom-made drinks!

Tamaki: Did you put lots of whipped cream?

Tsumugi: I did!

Just as you recommended!

Tsumugi: Berry sauce with a lot of whipped cream, added with caramel syrup and chocolate chips!

Tamaki:

Tamaki: It’s tasty, right

Tsumugi: It is!

Tsumugi: I’m not used to saying it, so I fumbled my words while taking the order,, ><

Tamaki: Hilarious lol

Tamaki: It’s pretty long

Tamaki: What did Ban-chan order?

Tsumugi: Additional espresso shots recommended by Iori-san!

Tamaki: I took a sip from Iorin’s and it was so bitter

Tamaki:

Tsumugi: It’s an acquired taste! (laugh)

Tamaki: I still prefer the sweet taste even if I become an adult

Tsumugi:

Tamaki: Now I wanna drink one

Tamaki: I want their collab with King Pudding to return

Tsumugi: Many people went there that time!

Tsumugi: King Pudding cookie on whipped cream was cute!

I only drank it once, but I remember it was really delicious,,!

Tamaki: It was really delicious!!!!!

Tamaki: It was amazing!!!!

Tamaki: I wonder if I can make it in the dorms

Tsumugi: If I remember correctly it’s a frappe pudding flavor with whipped cream and sauce…

As long as you have the ingredients I believe you can make a semblance of it!

Tamaki: Really?!

I have to make it!

Tamaki:

Tamaki: I want to make this with everyone

Tamaki: Isn’t it fun to customize it with the flavor you like?

Tsumugi: It is!

Everyone’s preferences are different, so you can have various flavors!

Tamaki: Right!

Tamaki: Yama-san isn’t fond of sweets so

I’m sure he’ll pick the bitter one

Tamaki: Nagicchi’s going to make a Cocona-colored one

Tsumugi:

Tamaki: Ah, if Sou-chan’s about to put red pieces in it I’ll stop him

Tamaki: Definitely

Tsumugi:

#idolish7 #i7 #idolish seven #rabbichat #rabbitchat #yotsuba tamaki #tamaki yotsuba #idol's daily life #translation #english translation

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mamamittens · 2 years ago

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Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 10)

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard Crew & Reader-Insert

Main|First|Previous

Warnings: Yandere behavior, imprisonment, discussions of drugging/mindbreak, and mentions of attempted murder. If yandere content makes you uncomfortable, do not read this series. And feel free to block the tag 'oh sweet child of mine' as well as any relevant version of 'one piece yandere'. Do not tolerate this behavior in real life.

Stay safe and have fun.

Word Count: 2,243

When you expressed your desire to leave the Moby Dick, this was not what you meant damnit.

You ripped off a piece of bread and ate it, trying to ignore the rattle of the chain connected to the bracelet on your wrist. Both were thick and not quite light. The links dragging on the ground in your seated position and leading all the way to Teach’s bracelet. Hilariously, it’s only by being kidnapped a second time that your kidnapper so openly acknowledges that you don’t want to be there. And not pretending like any day now you’d ‘see the light’.

It felt less confusing and ambiguous this way, but that didn’t mean you liked it.

At least you weren’t tied up the whole time, but nearly the whole point of your kidnapping was to use your devil fruit to boost his. And how could he guarantee that if you weren’t literally chained to his side at all times? On his end of the chain was a bolt that could unhook from it, meaning that you both could separate if need be—thankfully. You had no desire to literally be joined with anyone 24/7.

Teach laughed boisterously, taking a heavy chug of his booze as a few opportunistic women smoozed up to him. One less interested in whatever she thought Teach could offer her was on your side, quietly enjoying her own drink as she leaned against you. Maybe she felt bad for you? You weren’t entirely sure. She was dressed provocatively in a slim black dress, orange hair in a bob around her jawline. If she was here to flirt, she had a weird way of going about it. At this point, you assumed she wanted a break from batting her eyes at drunk pirates.

She was weird. This whole situation was weird. You miss when the weirdest part of your day was pretending a Yonko wasn’t trying to engage in a conversation with you.

Really, the whole affair was strange and more than a little awkward. Especially given what you now know Teach is capable of. It seemed at odds with his rather charismatic and bubbly personality. Though there was an edge to it now that bordered on new-found confidence and sadism. He wouldn’t strictly aim to hurt you. But if it was faster or guaranteed to work, he’d do it with no problem. He had no interest in winning you over, as evidenced by the literal chain, but aside from the occasional taunt he wasn’t cruel.

You supposed it all made more sense given that he sailed with Whitebeard for many years. You can’t exactly fit in with a crew like that if you weren’t adaptable. But fuck did you have difficulty comprehending Teach’s betrayal. Sure, other pirate crews experienced betrayal every now and then. It was a rather cutthroat life at sea among criminals.

But for one of Whitebeard’s sons to murder another?!

Shit.

You’d be surprised if the news didn’t rattle the marines once it properly got out. That’d be like one of Big Mom’s kids cutting her throat while she slept. Sure, it’s not impossible but… fuck. You knew for a fact that the marines had been trying to subvert Whitebeard’s crew for decades. Double agents either turned up dead, missing, or converted in startlingly short order. And to think they had a snake in the grass without any interference.

Just the prize of a weird devil fruit. Which he’d eaten by now and you’re happy to note that the creepy vibes were cut down significantly once it was claimed.

It still made it hard to sleep well, though. Particularly given how reluctant Teach was to let you out of his sight. It didn’t help that he literally never slept, so when you dozed off he’d just carry you around until you woke up. And his boisterous attitude meant you’d gained a few bruises here and there by sheer accident. You weren’t the shortest marine to enlist by far but Teach was a big man. The chain and his expressive body language meant that sometimes he yanked you one way or the other or tripped you. He’d apologize and mind his arm for a bit but he’d forget after a while, starting the cycle anew.

You suspected he was looking into something a little less cumbersome for himself. Though he reassured you that a slave collar was out of the question. You were supposed to be right next to him at all times, after all. And if the collar went off? Well, Teach didn’t want to get blasted. No mention about how it would kill you, but the inconvenience of it was implied. How reassuring. Under different circumstances he’d probably just blackmail you, but there really wasn’t anything he could hold over you.

Overall though? This was more uncomfortable than with Whitebeard but made a lot more sense.

“Do you want free?” The woman leaned in close and whispered. You gave her a look, lightly shaking your bruised wrist. The iron bracelet hanging off your wrist with your old marine handkerchief helping reduce the damage.

“You think this is a fashion statement?” You whispered back, eating more bread while ignoring the glance Teach gave you before returning his attention to the other ladies. You conversation partner pouted.

“My associate will be here in the morning. He could free you.” You gave her a slow look. “He’s good at breaking shackles.”

You sighed, the pieces falling into place as you noted the various eyes on the two of you.

“We’ll be gone by then. Teach isn’t keen on his ‘brothers’ catching up. I’m not convinced they’re actually chasing us but still… you don’t need to risk your operation here for me. I’ll be fine.” You wrinkled your nose, a bit bitter that your best option at leaving was still out of reach. “Is there anything else you need?”

Revolutionaries. Now, officially, you have a firm stance against all criminal activities. Just like with pirates, you don’t like revolutionaries. You will arrest them if need be but… if you happen to be busy with something else, and the worst they’re up to is freeing slaves? Well, you can’t be everywhere. And, frankly, the fact that you ultimately answer to Celestial Dragons is more than a little embarrassing. You’d seen one. Didn’t have any real interaction, thankfully. But watching the crude, arrogant fuck parade around like he didn’t look like an idiot was just…

You huffed.

“Why does a Whitebeard Pirate have a slave?” She whispered. You gave her a small smile.

“Technically, I’m just a prisoner. My devil fruit boosts others and he murdered a commander for his. I guess he feels more confident knowing his new power is even stronger if he runs into his old crew.” You informed her softly. Her eyes widened in shock. “It only works in proximity though so… hence, the chain.” You took a drink of your tea.

“Where is he headed?” You shrugged apologetically.

“Don’t know. He’s mentioned a plan to become a warlord. How he’d justify keeping a marine prisoner with that position, I’m not sure. Yeah… M—The Phoenix grabbed me from my original base. And now I’m here. Embarrassing, I know.” You grumbled as she tried to control her shock. “I think he said something about capturing a big shot pirate for it, though. That’s all I know, unfortunately. I’m not exactly his confidant.”

She nodded.

“Thank you. If we can, we’ll get you free. You’ll owe us though.” You snorted.

“I’m not sure I’ll be a marine after this. Too much of a risk. Not much I’ll be able to help with if you want an inside man. But thanks. The sentiment is appreciated. Good luck, revolutionary.” You sighed as she slipped away.

Teach laughed, glancing down at you again but not saying anything more. If he knew what was up, he didn’t care much. He knew you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Not only do you have the literal chain to worry about, but also himself. And you’d need more than gumption to take him down, even without a devil fruit.

--*--

Ace scowled at the heart monitor. Thatch laying motionless on the bed aside from slow, even breaths. He barely made it out of surgery, requiring all of Marco’s attention to not die. And even then he flatlined twice.

And like it wasn’t bad enough, that fucking bastard took you too!

And the devil fruit Thatch found but that was besides the point.

Maybe, if Marco wasn’t needed, he could have chased after Teach and caught him. But by the time the strenuous surgery was over with, you and Teach were long gone.

The idea was briefly floated that the two of you worked together to murder Thatch and escape. But Ace knew that wasn’t possible. You weren’t like that at all, even with your mostly playful dislike of Thatch, you wouldn’t murder him. You were, frankly, too passive for outright murder. And escaping like that was too risky for someone so cautious. You were honest, though quiet about your opinions. Sweet despite your obvious discomfort in a way Ace found endearing, though a little baffling. Not once acting aggressively towards anyone on board aside from playful jabs. If you’d been capable of murder it would have shown before now. Well before now.

Marco knew you a little better and agreed with Ace. You weren’t a killer. Your preferred fighting style was defensive and playful, aware of your weaknesses. If you had worked with Teach to escape, Thatch would have just been knocked out or locked in the room instead. It would be smarter, after all. Leaving would already piss them off. No need to add actual murder to the mix.

And the idea that you could sway Teach to betray them was ridiculous. Somehow more ridiculous than their brother of many years up and murdering a commander. Not nearly enough time on board, let alone in Teach’s presence to accomplish that. You also had no reason to ensure Teach would receive a devil fruit you’d just learned of and clearly disliked. To the point that you didn’t even argue when Oyaji called you ‘child’ when you sensed it originally. Even looking to him for comfort briefly.

Escaping them? Sure, as much as Ace hated to admit it, you hadn’t quite warmed up to them all just yet. You were getting close though!

If… if you did work with Teach for this…

Marco had divulged a plan to Ace some time ago. If you started lashing out and acted up. Specially brewed tea for a few weeks and isolation. Not quite Ace’s first thought but he knew what kind of headspace that would put you in. Hell, Luffy being threatened with being completely alone was enough to withstand torture as a child. And even Ace himself could admit that the isolation he experienced, in many forms, fucked with him. Hard.

So.

If you were partially responsible for this, Ace would simply follow through with the plan. Even if it was a bit cruel.

If you weren’t? If you’d been taken from your new (reluctant) home? Teach has a whole new crime to answer for. Though… maybe being grounded for a while would help you settle down finally. They’d had enough friction in the family for a while.

Teach was getting a personal punishment from Oyaji regardless of your involvement for nearly murdering Thatch. Nothing, absolutely nothing, should have made him turn traitor like that. Ace admitted he was fond of you but, to put it lightly, it wasn’t enough to kill his family for. You were family. Anything else can be worked on. Not that he has a lot of room to talk about attempted murder on family members, really, but that was different! He started with the murder attempts!

“…We’ll get them back, Thatch. I promise.” Ace stood up and stormed out the room. Ready to tell Oyaji he was leaving to get revenge. Marco walked out from the shadows of the hospital room, keeping pace with him. His expression grim as he smiled at Ace.

“Ready to go hunting?” Marco asked, eyes glowing despite the well-lit hallway.

Ace grinned.

“Yeah. I am.”

It had only been a day since you went missing. And the clock started ticking. For you and Teach.

They’d be there soon.

--*--

Akainu burned the wooden desk beneath his hands, scowling down at the picture a spy had taken.

You were off the Moby Dick finally. Away from those filthy pirates. But he wasn’t happy about it.

You looked worn down from your time being held captive. Glasses cracked and dark circles under your eyes. A chain tying you to the bastard next to you, keeping you close.

A hiss left his clenched teeth. He’d heard word of what happened. How you ‘left’ the Whitebeard Pirates.

And he didn’t think it was possible to hate pirates more. But Marshal D. Teach accomplished just that, earning a special place in Akainu’s heart.

To be a criminal, a fucking pirate, was a crime worthy of death. But to be a traitor to the crew he’d sworn allegiance to on top of that? Thinking he deserved to have you by his side like you should be by Akainu?

Irredeemable scum he’d soon immolate off the map so thoroughly there’d be nothing left but an echo of ‘Blackbeard’s’ screams.

#one piece yandere #platonic yandere #yandere whitebeard crew #oh sweet child of mine #reader insert #yandere blackbeard #yandere ace #yandere marco #yandere akainu #how close the reader was to meeting Sabo #i imagine the revolutionaries like networking

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