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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 13 days ago

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Prey

Slasher AU. Prefacing the fic with the knowledge that there's no batman in this au. I was thinking about Scream and those kinds of horror films when I wrote this, so, all the warnings that come with that.

CW for murder, some knife play, predator/prey dynamics, and sex under manipulation. Smut written with AFAB reader in mind. 18+ MDNI ~3.7k words

Gotham is known for its crime, known for its filth and grime. So when you started dating Jason Todd, you were floored by how good he was. Attentive, sweet, kind, and always so soft with you.

He's the antithesis of everything you're used to, constantly going against your more pessimistic expectations. Your boyfriend is a rare, treasured comfort in the city that's been nothing but rotten to you.

It helps that he's nothing but a gentle giant. Sure, he can scare off anyone looking for trouble while you're walking the street, but he's harmless. If he wasn't born and raised in crime alley, you'd assume he'd have no idea what to do with his size and strength.

He assures you he's more than capable of swinging the bat you keep by your bed if anyone ever broke in. You believe him, of course, but it doesn't completely soothe the knot of anxiety in your stomach. Not when Red Hood is stalking the streets.

It's a name that's been haunting Gotham for over half a year. He's become Gotham's most prolific serial killer in nearly no time at all. He has no pattern, no specific victim type. All the GCPD seems to know is that he targets 'the rot' and wears a distinctive, blood-red mask.

He scares you. It's not that you think that you're on his intended targets list, it's just– his victims, you knew an uneasy amount of them.

The creep at your work? Found dead with a lengthy, bloodstained list of previous convictions.

The offputting guy that liked to lurk at the coffee shop you love? Murdered with the names of his victims carved into his body.

The stranger in your apartment building who stared a little too much? Killed and left with his eyes plucked out in some parking lot.

Jason said it was just a coincidence, that there was no need to worry when it was just criminals and predators being targeted. He sounded so confident, so sure of this fact that it was easy to brush off the unsettling fear that seemed to travel to your spine every time you heard Red Hood's name.

But now? You wish you had taken the gut feeling more seriously.

You weren’t even supposed to be home. You were supposed to be at work. Safe. Calmed by the people around you. But your manager had double scheduled you and your coworker, and, in the moment, you had been more than happy to take the opportunity to spend more time with your boyfriend.

Jason was nowhere in sight when you had come home. It had been quiet, almost eerie. You assumed he was napping, getting some well-deserved rest. You knew how hard he works. You were almost giddy, at the thought of surprising him, at curling up in your soft, warm bed and surrounding yourself with your boyfriend's arms and scent.

You cracked open your bedroom door slowly, carefully, not wanting to disturb him. But it’s not the sight of your handsome, sleeping boyfriend you’re greeted with. It’s something far worse.

Your brain doesn’t quite make the connection between the imposing figure tugging on a pair of leather gloves and the serial killer prowling the streets at first. But as your gaze trails up the stranger to where his face should be, you recognize the mask that's been on the edge of your nightmares for months.

Red Hood. Red Hood is in your room, and he’s picking up a knife off your bed to shove it into a sheath on his hip. You have the chilling realization that your boyfriend is nowhere in sight. Panic starts to close your throat. He could be dead. Jason– your Jason– could be dead.

You think you make a noise at the thought. Or maybe you step back in horror. You’re not completely sure. But what you do know, is that you’ve done something to get him to notice your presence. Red Hood whips his head towards you. He breathes out your name. And you turn on your heel to run.

You dart through your apartment, vision tunneled with one purpose. Get away. You have to get to the door, have to get help, have to hope that your boyfriend is still clinging to life and that you’ll be fast enough to save him.

Your heart threatens to pound out of your chest, your hands feel clammy, and all you want to do is cry, but you have to run. You have to. He’s right behind you. You can hear his heavy boots hit the ground with every step, and it only serves to make skin grow cold and your spine tingle.

You throw open your front door, opening your mouth to scream and beg someone to come help.

You don’t get the chance. The door slams shut in front of you, your only hope for escape barricaded closed by a large hand pressing into the wood above your head. You try to yell, try to shriek and make a commotion, but leather presses harshly against your lips before you're able to make a sound.

It’s muscle memory, built on self-defense training Jason always insisted you practiced, that you’re able to elbow him in the gut and bite down on his hand. He grunts, shifting his hold on you. You find enough space to spin around and shove him. You think he steps back more at your audacity than at your strength.

It doesn’t matter why, all that matters is that it gives you an opportunity to sprint past him, to try to make it to the fire escape. He must find your attempt cute, because he huffs out a laugh as he lunges for your fleeing form.

You cry out as he tackles you to the ground, maneuvering you as you both fall. The impact of the ground is somewhat softened by his chest, but it dazes you enough that you don’t put up a strong fight when he flips you to your back.

Seeing him up close knocks the air from your lungs more than the fall did. His mask gives away no emotion, only his slightly labored breathing and body heat gives away that he’s even human. Even as terror sets itself into every fiber of your being, there’s a brief clarity in your panicked thoughts.

There’s no scent of blood on him. There’s a chance, there’s a hope, that Jason is okay. There’s a chance he wasn’t home when Red Hood broke in. There’s a chance he’s safe. And maybe, maybe Red Hood won’t hurt you. You’re not exactly good, but you’re not evil, not someone he would target.

The thought calms you enough that you start to struggle, if you could just survive until Jason gets here– the thought is cut short when something shiny catches your vision. In your frenzied state, you’d failed to notice Red Hood unsheathing his knife.

You freeze, and he lowers the tip of the knife to rest it at the base of your throat. He hasn't said anything since he caught you, hasn’t given you a hint of what he wants from you.

You wish he would, wish he would give you anything to latch onto. Tears threaten to prick your eyes as he settles his weight on your hips, hunching over as if to get a better look at your petrified face.

Your heart only beats fast when he starts to trail the knife down to catch the collar of your shirt. You can feel how sharp the blade is, how he would only need to press a little harder to make you bleed. The idea makes you whimper softly, unable to hide how vulnerable you are.

He catches the noise, head tilting like he finds it interesting, and he pulls the knife down your sternum until the fabric of your shirt starts to stretch and tear.

You choke on nothing, desperately grabbing at his wrist to try and stop him from ripping your shirt in two, “Wait– please,” you start to beg, anything to save yourself from this. He can’t– you can’t let him– not when you know Jason will be the one to find your body.

He shushes you, low and soothing, and even your best efforts doesn’t stop his steady hand from tracing a line down your body with the knife, “Don’t be scared, baby. I thought you liked it when I got rough?”

His voice. His voice. You know that voice. It chills you to the core, widens your eyes, and sends you spiraling to a fact you never once considered, “Jason?”

He laughs, the sound distorted by the mask and drags the knife back up your skin to rest over your heart, “I knew you’d get there. You’ve always been too smart for your own good.”

It’s not fear that makes your body shake anymore, but anger as you snap at him, “Are you kidding me? Is this some kind of stupid prank?”

“It's not a prank baby,” he says, so plain he may as well be talking about the weather, “I’m Red Hood.”

You blink, shocked to silence as your anger fades to unease. You can only imagine what he looks like right now. Eyes dark, face set with a mockery of a smile, and nothing like the Jason you know.

You swallow thickly, trying to reconcile the man you love, and the murderer bracing most of his weight on your body, “But– Jason– you wouldn’t– killing people– that’s not right,” you finish lamely.

The air seems to grow thick with tension at your stuttered words, and he raises the knife. You scream and squeeze your eyes shut as he brings it down without hesitation.

Pain doesn’t come, but a thunk by your ear does. You open your eyes and turn your head, the shining blade is embedded into the wood by your face, so close that your eyelashes nearly brush it when you blink.

The sight is enough to make tears fill your eyes, and any semblance of safety you felt was quickly ripped away by the glimmering knife.

Jason starts to shush you again, catching your chin gently with his gloved hands to turn your face back to him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I would never. You just don’t understand yet. The people I kill- they aren’t really people, baby. They’re monsters, a cancer to the city. I’m making things better, helping.”

He sounds like he really believes that, and it makes you want to cry harder, “Baby,” he coos, “Don’t be scared. I’ve always kept you safe. How I do it? Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? I’m not asking you to get your hands dirty.”

You flinch when he starts to wipe your tears, and he tuts, one hand leaving your face to lift his bright red mask to the top of his head in an attempt to calm you.

There’s no pretending it isn’t him. Every blemish you’ve come to memorize, every fleck in his eyes, the quirk of his eyebrow. It’s him. Jason is Red Hood, and Red Hood has you pinned to your apartment floor.

“Better,” he asks gently, leaning down to kiss away the tracks of tears on your cheeks. It only serves to scare you more. Your boyfriend, he seems nearly unrecognizable now.

“Please,” you beg again. You’re not sure what you’re asking for. For him to let you go? For him to tell you it’s all a sick joke? For him to stop killing?

He offers you none of these, only rambles idly as he presses kiss down to your jaw, to your throat, “C’mon, baby. I’ve always taken care of you, haven't I? This doesn’t change anything. I still love you. You’re still my partner, my everything. I’m just making things better for you, for everyone.”

His hands start to trace the bare skin of your sides, pushing aside your torn shirt, “Let me remind you how good we are, baby. It’ll make everything better.”

He punctuates his little speech with a roll of his hips, and it draws a gasp from your throat.

It’s so familiar, something you couldn’t help but crave from him. But it feels tainted now, almost wrong. You grab at his shoulders, half to push him away and half to find comfort in pulling him closer as raw panic lacing your features.

He grins at you, as if he can read your every thought and internal struggle. You open your mouth to protest, to remind him and yourself that this is wrong. That even if the people he kills are evil, vile, and twisted, that doesn’t make him right.

Jason doesn’t seem interested in hearing your arguments, though, and he ducks his head to capture your mouth in a passionate kiss.

He nips at your lips, traces your tongue with his, and leaves you panting for air when he finally pulls away. “There you go,” he praises, running his thumb over your spit-stained mouth, “No need to think so hard about it.”

Later, when you’re sticky with sweat and exhausted and laying on his chest, you’ll berate yourself for giving in.

But in the moment? He knows exactly what you like, knows exactly how to get your head to go foggy, and lose your inhibitions. He’s been in your bed for months, learned every little thing that makes you tick with frightening accuracy, and he uses every bit of that knowledge to convince you to give in.

He nips at your pulse, fingers tugging at the fabric of your pants. He’s heavy and warm on top of you, and his murmured praises and gentle touches are almost enough to distract you from the knife driven into the floor by your head.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and somewhere between him sucking a line of bruises to your chest and him hiking your thigh over his hip, what’s left of your clothes is thrown strewn and crumpled onto the floor.

The wood is cold against your back, but it’s the look in his eyes that makes you shiver. He’s completely dressed, even as he has you naked and exposed underneath him. And his gaze, his gaze is almost predatory as he devours the sight of you.

You don’t know how you never noticed it before, the way his eyes darken like he wants to eat you alive, like he wants to keep you soft and spread open for him forever.

It makes your throat tighten, nearly sends you back into a state of sick terror, but then he dips his head, and nips the shell of your, “You’re being so good for me, doll,” he praises, reverent and soft, “You just keep being sweet for me and everything will be okay."

Your breath hitches, and suddenly it's not fear that knots itself in your stomach, but a desire to be good. You want to be sweet for him, want his praise and adoration and approval, no matter what he’s done or what he's capable of.

Pride flickers over his face at the way your eyes seem to glaze over and he’s quick to undo his belt, eager to keep you compliant and dazed, “Look at you, all flustered over some pretty words,” he half taunts, “S’like you were meant for me.”

“Jason,” you start, and he shakes his head at you, pushing his fingers between your teeth.

“Bite down for me, sweetheart,” he instructs, and you can’t help but listen, nipping at the leather of his glove so he can free his hand. “Good,” he coos at you, “Now, hold onto that for me while I take care of you.”

You want to listen, want to do as he says, but his fingers start to rub slow, steady circles against your clit and your mouth drops open in a pitched whine all on its own, letting the glove fall to the floor.

He laughs at you, fond and mocking all at once, “Sweet baby, can’t handle it can you? That’s alright, doll. I’ll make you feel real good anyway.”

You nearly go cross eyed when his cock nudges your cunt. Usually he’d take his time, have you creaming on his fingers or tongue before he’d make you see stars on his cock. But there’s something on face that says he has something to prove, that even with knowledge of who he is, it doesn’t change that your body knows him, wants him.

His name leaves your throat in a needy cry as he sinks into you, slowly guiding himself deep into your fluttering cunt.

Your back arches as his fingers press harder to your clit, his smile almost primal as he feels you clench down on his dick, “Gonna make a mess, baby,” he warns, and you’re not sure if he’s telling you he’s planning on making you a mess, or if he’s pointing out that you’re already on the verge of soaking his cock.

You groan when he starts to rock his hips in shallow thrusts, and it makes you babble his name faster. He’s being careful, letting you adjust to every inch of him as he splits you apart.

But, it’s not enough, not enough to drive the thoughts of Red Hood lingering on the edge of your mind, so you hook your ankles behind his back, and squeeze your eyes shut. If you don’t see him, don’t see the mask still resting on top of his head, maybe you can still pretend he’s just Jason, just your sweet, normal boyfriend.

“Don’t hide,” he grunts and jerks his hips forward, burying himself in one smooth motion that makes you gasp and snap your eyes open.

“There you go,” he murmurs, smile sharp as he gazes down at you. He drops his forearm to the ground next to your head, caging you between his arm and his knife. His free hand leaves your clit to tug your thigh higher up his hip.

He almost seems proud when he starts to grind into you, watching every blissed expression that crosses your face when ruts against your sweet spot.

He pulls his hips back, making sure your eyes stay locked on his, before he drives back into your cunt, setting a head spinning pace that has your needy mewls and the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

He lowers his head to kiss you with a sly grin, swallowing up every whine you make. All the reservations you had quickly disappear, replaced by the tight feeling building in your gut, by the drag of his cock against your walls. He’s relentless, chasing his and your pleasure with a single minded focus.

There’s a promise in his touch, when his hand leaves your thigh to find your hip. His fingers dig into your skin, hard enough to leave an imprint. If your head was any clearer, you would recognize it for the threat that it was.

His lips leave yours, and he buries his face in your shoulder, thrusts becoming sloppy as he murmurs slurred vows into your skin. “Gonna keep you forever. Gonna make you feel this way every day. Never gonna let you go. Never gonna lose this, baby.”

Maybe it’s the way his voice goes ragged. Maybe it’s the way his hips stutter as he fights off his release. Or maybe it’s the way he presses feverish kisses to your skin. But it sends you spiraling over the edge, clenching around his cock and cumming with his name in your throat.

He follows you with a moan, movements slowing as he pumps his spend into your twitching pussy. “Good, baby. So good,” he manages to get out, pulling his face back just enough to watch you whimper and try to gather what’s left of your rationality.

He tilts his head down, grinning like a hunter that’s caught the best prize of the season. The movement causes his mask to slip off his head, sliding it back in place to cover his face. The air catches in your lungs at the sight, your body tensing as clarity strikes through the lingering haze of pleasure.

Jason only laughs, tracing the curve of your jaw, “What’s wrong, baby,” he teases, slowly rolling his hips into your sensitive cunt, “Don’t tell me you forgot who was fucking you?”

“Take it off,” You murmur, voice tight as he drags every last bit of ecstasy from your body.

He hums, “Mm, No. You gotta get used to it, sweetheart. This mask, me, ain’t going anywhere.”

A part of you is still scared, scared to test him more than you already have, but it’s not Red Hood you want, it’s not Red Hood you fell in love with. Anger guides your actions as you reach up to rip the mask off his face. He catches your wrist faster than you see him move.

Everything seems to stop.

He slowly lowers your wrist back to the ground, pinning the offending hand above your head, “Now, sweetheart,” he says slowly, voice lowered to a tone you’ve never heard before, “We’re not going to do that.”

“I’m not sleeping with Red Hood,” you hiss, sounding braver than you feel.

He snorts at you, and every word he speaks is followed by a sharp thrust of his cock, “Baby, I am Red Hood.”

Your arguments turn to keens, overwhelmed and dizzy by his institance to keep driving his dick deeper into your pussy. His words hardly seem to register, but he keeps talking to you anyway, “You’ve been sleeping with Red Hood, baby. And you liked it– loved it. Just have to remind you.”

You can’t seem to focus. He’s good, so good at hitting all the spots that turn your brain into mush and your legs into jelly. But that mask, that stupid mask is staring down at you. It’s the only thing you can see.

You’re divided between Jason, the Jason whose cock has you babbling and moaning, and Red Hood. Red Hood who has your wrist pinned to the hard floor, who’s watching your every movement like he needs to memorize every expression, every sound you make.

It’s not until later, when he has you cumming on his cock for the fifth time, that you realize they are the same. They’ve always been the same.

Jason Todd is Red Hood, and now that you know, he'll blur the lines until you're not sure why you were ever really scared of him.

#jason todd x reader #slasher!au #jason todd smut #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #raes kinktober fics

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atebyflowers · 1 month ago

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Abby with a size kink 😩

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎oh my god . . my fav ; cw size kink nsfw + mdni

she's so fucking cocky about it, she'll take any chance to remind you how easy it is for her to overpower you.. grabbing your waist, holding you in place on her lap in public, its impossible to move out of her grip.

definitely buys the biggest strap she can find and calls you dramatic for squirming so much when she's tryna put it inside you "s'not even half way baby . . relax" she instructs, n by the time it is all the way in shes pushing down on the outline poking through ur stomach.

loves when you ask to ride her because it always results in you getting tired and her having to physically bounce you up and down on her cock.

just her large fingers compared to your body is enough to make you cum, she doesn't even need a strap in all honesty.

always manhandling you. she loves being gentle with you at first, but overtime she learns how much you love when she's rough and uses it to her advantage. sometimes forgets just how much smaller you are compared to her, accidentally leaving more bruises than she intends.

she's obsessed with how easy it is to move you around. she'll fuck anywhere possible and pin you exactly where she needs you, moving you like a rag doll every which way. like, the shower, her car, the kitchen, it doesn't matter — she'll find a position to fuck you in.

she'll definitely eat you out for hours on end, your legs held in place around her thick arms — she loves watching you twitch under her body. "taste so fucking good . . i know its too much baby but you can give me another one right?" she'll ask, as if she's giving you a choice.

loves cock warming and watching you try to move anyway you can, knowing she's holding you down with her strong hands making it impossible for you to do anything.

makes you ride her thigh for sure .. she'll move you back and forth on her big leg for a little bit before making you do the work yourself — leaning back and watching as you desperately grind against her.

#abby x reader #abby the last of us #ellie x reader #abby x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #🫧 sena #abby tlou #ellie x abby #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader

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nanamis-bigtie · 26 days ago

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pina colada

↬ gojo x afab!reader | lucid love ↬ lucid love masterlist // jjk masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, reader has a vagina (no excessive body descriptions), piv sex, aphrodisiacs, unrealistic sex, creampie (like...a lot of it), belly bulge, reader is implied to be much smaller than gojo, dumbification if you squint, slight degradation (reader is called a slut), a little of breeding talk (in a very feral meaning of it), gojo is a little fucked up (was he ever normal tho) summary: this was supposed to be a chill leave but satoru wouldn't be himself, if he didn't make things…complicated. and horny. word count: 1.6k a/n: i won against anxiety! this text is...not exactly what i aimed for when preparing the prompt but i'm pretty satisfied with the result. feral gojo my beloved tag list: @thesacredfanfics

You've imagined your first retirement trip quite...different.

Taking it easy was the motto you both intended to uphold. You deserved it after the absolute hell of the last two years and an additional few months of convincing Satoru that he really needed to step down and leave everything to others. His body and soul and your relationship needed a breather, nothing but sweet laziness in a luxury hotel on Bali, away from Japan, away from sorcery, away from Gojo clan relentlessly rushing you two to settle down and marry, as if the old schemes still had any meaning in the new world.

No, his phone got turned off right on Tokyo Narita and hidden in your pocket, you left your laptops behind and locked away, your number was entrusted only to a handful of people and instructed to be used in case of an extreme emergency. You agreed for it together, this peculiar isolation from the world the only way you could properly rest through the month to come. For the whole of October, you belonged only to each other, to tropical beaches, local cuisine, parties in expensive clubs, and your spacious bedroom with a sinfully comfortable California king sized bed, just perfect to finally sate your libido.

But Satoru wouldn't be himself if he hadn't stepped into an affair right on the first day anyway, even before you managed to unpack all the bags. He made a local curse user run for their life, more bored than anything, and returned with a small bottle of...something he confiscated.

You still taste its flavor at the back of your throat, sweet and tart at the same time, like pina colada made by an unskilled bartender with a little too much cheap rum. It was thick and rather hard to swallow, its consistency nothing like any other drink you had tried so far, and it pricked your tongue with that characteristic tinge of cursed energy. This aphrodisiac was surely infused with some kind of cursed object, maybe a product of someone's cursed technique, and as under any other circumstance you wouldn't be eager to try it just like that, when Satoru already swallowed his half, you just followed suit.

The party mood was definitely to blame, music was still buzzing in your blood as you were grinding against his lap and chasing his lips. The bottle was in his pocket, and you were the one who pulled it out, its shape climbing into your thigh uncomfortably. Satoru had already forgotten about its existence, but he immediately recognized his trophy and uncorked it before you could say anything.

And since then, the matters escalated...quickly.

Thighs flush to his hips, you ride him without cease. You've lost feeling in your calves a long time ago and your knees scream for mercy—yet, you don't stop, fearing that the flame burning deep in your cunt would swallow you whole as soon as you take a breather. Up and down, you swallow him over and over again, his cum pouring out of your abused hole and pooling at the base of his cock. You've lost count of how many times he's finished in you already, yet of your own orgasms, but you know you've reached every physical limit of your body. Aphrodisiac running in your veins has you pushing them relentlessly, somehow forcing exhaustion and pain out of your comprehension. There's only lust and warmth of his length, filling you to the brim and, somehow, still pressing deeper and deeper, seeking new crevices to be filled with his seed.

Satoru underneath is a mess too, sweaty, shaking and whining. His skin is flushed, be it fever of the moment or the sunset soaking you both in pink light, exposing scars scattered all over his torso, arms, and face. Moisture slips his blindfold down; beadily blue gaze runs you through as it skims along your body bouncing on top of his. He's lost the famous Six Eyes, a sacrifice made by a binding vow to let him survive, but at that very moment you feel as if it's never been gone. You recognize this intensity, your body and mind respond to it instinctively—the absolute submission and trust only Satoru has ever been able to elicit from you.

"Kiss me," he demands, voice breaking in need, and fills you up yet again as soon as your lips brush his. His hot seed flows inside you, you can feel its pressure against your cervix and another ounce of older loads slipping out of your hole. It's such a waste but you can't help it, you can hold inside only as much, and he's still determined to somehow overflow you from the entrance to your womb.

You've never experienced sex with this intensity. Aphrodisiac sharpens your senses thoroughly, you're feeling him with parts of your body you've never thought that they're capable of ever feeling. Every twitch of his length thumps through your body, every new spasm of incoming high has your cunt clench tight around him, trying to desperately swallow everything he's offering, maybe this time it can be savored whole, maybe this time you can expand your limits and let him breed you straight into your core.

Lustful poison wants you to continue beyond breaking but your body starts giving up, your legs too jelly to handle your weight any more. Your rhythm starts faltering, you lean forwards in a desperate attempt to help yourself with your arms, your hands only slipping off his sweaty chest.

"I can't," you sob, yourself not sure if in exhaustion or immense need for more.

"Yes, you can." Heels digging in the mattress, Satoru lifts his hips and bounces you himself. "C'mon, pretty thing, just one more time? I know you want it badly ."

His fingers sink in your skin, bruise your hips yet again as he's rutting into you without a break. He has you creaming around his cock again, gushing your juices and his cum alike. Eyes fixed on your fluttering lips, he tries to shake the sweat-soaked blindfold of his face. You want to help, only to lose fragile balance and to almost slip off him and his greedy embrace.

"Hey," he groans, his voice dropping so low it doesn't sound like his anymore. "Hey, hey, hey, where do you think you're going?"

Satoru rocks himself forwards, having you on your back just for a moment enough to slip out of you and turn you around, face shoved into pillows and your hips yanked up. He gathers the mess leaking out of you with the tip of his cock, then finds your entrance with one, rough thrust.

The sound you make doesn't sound human anymore. He's reached the depth he has never before, maybe even indeed somehow pushed himself past your cervix. Without the help of the aphrodisiac, you could have been in immense pain—but now, you're only clawing sheets and trying to meet his moves halfway, craving every inch of his thick cock drilling into you. You want more , you want to be bred until even your womb is filled to the brim and bulging your tum.

One hand pressed tight to your abdomen, undeniably trying to feel himself moving in you, Satoru keeps holding you down by neck. With a corner of your eye, you can spot his reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall, his face on the brink of losing his humanity, too. There's nothing left of tenderness he's always had reserved when looking at you; there's only lust and blind chase for release and sadistic satisfaction wincing his expression whenever your mewls grow more hoarse and desperate.

His thrusts relentlessly push you towards the edge of bed; you're not able to hold yourself against them and his hold is not enough to keep you in place. Satoru's hand sneaks from the nape of your neck to your throat and pulls you towards him, until you're kneeling, your back flush to his torso. The mirror is filled with you both now, the sight of the size difference between you two alone almost having you cream on his cock again. He's watching too, his gaze fixed once on your face, once on your union and your belly really bulging in the shape of his cock, his moves calming down just enough to focus on dragging new views and reactions out of you.

"You look like a slut." He laughs, the sound suiting more a demon than your caring and always a little pathetic partner, and slides his long fingers into your mouth. You're drooling around them, choking, your own fingers scratching his wrist, yourself not sure if to pull him out—or quite contrary, make him torture you even more.

You're both losing your sanity with each passing second, the poison in your veins only growing stronger the more you succumb to the lust.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you cum again, the spasm of your cunt almost painful, and your legs give in, your body now limp in his hold. Satoru clicks his tongue, lets you melt just enough to hook arms under your knees and yank you up. His hands are at the back of your neck again, eventually locking you in a full nelson hold, absolutely helpless and left on his mercy.

When you regain your sight, you're staring straight at your body wide open, your cunt stretched by his twitching cock and gushing his cum.

"C'mon, pretty thing, don't pass out on me here." He sinks teeth in your neck, hard, as if trying to tear a piece of flesh out of you. "It's not even dark yet."

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ang3l0fthursday · 5 months ago

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“Need Some Help?”

sub!matt sturniolo x softdom!reader

author note: n/a

summary: both matt and reader had a rough day, and matt just can’t seem to get off by himself.

word count: 1.2k

requested by the lovely @robins-scoop ❣️

it had been a very rough day for both me and matt.

he had meeting after meeting, starting at 10 in the morning and ending at 6 in the evening.

while i deep cleaned the entire house where i lived with matt and both nick and chris.

i avoided everyone’s bedrooms except the one matt and i shared and god was i thankful for making that decision. i had peered briefly into chris’s room when i had cleaned the stairs and i just couldn’t bring myself too do that. its his room anyways he can clean it himself. at least that’s what i convinced myself as to give another reason not to clean it.

i had finally stated wrapping up my cleaning, putting now stained rags in the washer and tattered sponges into the sink.

matt had gotten into the shower not long ago. i don’t blame him, my hands had been cramping from scrubbing, as well as my legs.

i made my way over to mine and matt’s shared bedroom, admiring the now clean room slightly before stripping down into more comfortable clothes. I traded my old and oversized t shirt for one of matt’s, and my two-sizes-too-big sweatpants for some sleep shorts. i went to go lay down, wanting to go to bed or at least nap, but i couldn’t find my charger. my phone was at 10% from listening to music all day and i didn’t want to wake up with a dead phone.

i couldn’t find my charger anywhere in the room, and i didn’t feel like dismantling the area to find it. Especially after i had cleaned. so i went to go ask matt.

as i made my way to the bathroom i could hear faint noises coming from inside. it was hard to make out what it was over the water running and with the door closed. but i had made an assumption as to what it was. and lord did i hope i was right.

as i walked in, the sight in front of me was a blessing. the shower curtain was opened halfway, and there stood matt. his hair was wet but it looked like it was half-dry and he was leant against the opposite wall of where the shower head was.

matt’s back was against the white surface of the shower interior and his head was thrown back. his eyebrows had been knitted together and his eyes squeezed shut, and his jaw was completely slack.

as i moved my eyes down his body, i saw his hand moving acrossed his length swiftly, his other hand gripping at the wall behind him.

he was letting out small moans and soft whimpers.

“oh matty…”

he didn’t react shocked at all, only turning his hand to face me and opening his eyes.

so he had heard me come in.

“mama- i can’t!” his hand hadn’t stopped in the slightest, and i’m almost certain his hand even sped up when i walked in.

i walked in fully, closing the door behind me and locking it. just in case nick or chris came home. “you can’t what matty?”

“i can’t- please”

“you can’t get off honey?” he flushed before shaking his head, water droplets fell off of his hair slightly, landing and falling down his body.

“need some help baby?”

“yes please mama” his hand had finally ceased as i began to strip out of my clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on the counter since i intended to wear them after.

“mama please”

“i’m coming baby be patient”

i made my way over to the shower where my frustrated boyfriend resided. i stepped inside, landing in front of matt, before fully pulling the curtain closed.

matt just stood there staring at me shyly

“oh come here baby” my hands made their way up to his face and pulling him in, his lips landing on mine.

the kiss was simple, but needy. as i pushed forward, to kiss him deeper, i slowly slid my hand down his body before stopping at his happy trail, admiring a little before continuing downward.

once my hand finally met his length i wrapped my hand around him, causing him to let out a soft whimper against my lips.

my thumb swiped acrossed his leaking slit, he pushed deeper into the kiss before i pulled away.

“here baby help me out here” i grabbed him by the arms before switching our position around, getting myself against the wall and him in front of me.

as i faced his back he tilted his head to the side to look at me, “mama what are you doing”

i simply shushed him as i placed kisses across his shoulders and upper back.

i brought my right arm up to wrap around the base of his neck , my hand landing on his left shoulder and resting gently.

my other arm wrapped to his front, grabbing his cock before slowly making my way acrossed it.

he immediately pushed his back into me, letting out a sharp moan.

my hand gradually sped up, wanting my boy to feel good, squeezing ever so often.

“oh mama- fuck! you make me feel so good” he whimpered out between soft breaths.

his hands came up to grasp at the arm i had splayed across his shoulders, and his hips bucked forward.

“mama oh my god”

“i know baby i know” i softly kissed his shoulder and twisted my hand around his pretty cock.

i felt him shudder underneath me, as if his legs wanted to give out. his hips jolted forward slightly as his breath quickened.

he was borderline panting between every movement of his hips against my hand

“ ‘m so sensitive!”

“shhh it’s okay baby let it out”

if he had been holding back in even the slightest, he definitely wasn’t now.

his hands gripped tight against my arm and his head fell back to land on my shoulder.

“fuck mama i’m so close”

i tightened my grip on his cock and slightly sped up my hand, twisting and flowing across his length.

“oh mama you make me feel so fucking good” he panted out.

i peppered slow kisses on his shoulder and around the base of his neck.

i could tell how close he was from the way he had twitched in my hand and the way he let out a string of whimpers.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck!” he quickly jolted his hips forward one last time as white spurts flooded out of him, landing on his stomach.

i was almost completely supporting his body as he came down from his high. his legs seemed to shake slightly and his little moans and whimpers hadn’t ceased.

“fuck mama” his breath was slowly starting to calm down and he lifted his head back up.

he turned around to face me, smiling as he pushed my hair behind my ears and kissed me deeply.

“you’re so perfect” he mumbled against my lips, quietly but i still heard him.

he pulled away from the kiss to wrap his arms around the top of me, and bringing me into a hug. i wrapped my arms around around his lower back, squeezing tightly before pulling away.

my hand came up to his cheek before patting lightly.

“ oh by the way- have you seen my charger?”

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sub matt sturniolo

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bea-ce · 6 months ago

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Nobody loves me like you do

..or sweet gestures your boyfriend does for you that has your knees buckling and heart fluttering!

characters: wriothesley, childe, alhaitham, lyney

genre: FLUFF!! FLUFF!!! FLUUUUUUUUUUUUFF!!!

warning's: none really? wriothesley's can be interpreted as spicy maybe, but it wasn't intended to be taken that way. maybe obvious bias...

notes: in my healing era and my lover girl has finally gotten the courage of taking the leap of faith of love once more. this is a little tribute to that, and to my boyfriend who's the cause of it. also sorry for having been dead! real busy with school and being bombared with exams all the time (the things i do to get into medicine...)

Wriothesley

It had become routine for you to leave the Duke's bedroom with tangled hair and knots that would only come out by putting balm in your hair when you showered. The cause of it? The Duke himself, of course.

Alas, as the saying goes "there's always a peace before a storm". You feel yourself get thrown off of Wriothesley, hitting your back against the matress with a small huff before you feel his weight shift ontop of you, squeezing the air out of you as giggles erupt from you while you try shoving him off of you to no avail.

Finding yourself with half of your body outside of his bed, having long ago accepted that this was the way you'd be handled by your big, strong lover, you hear Wriothesley chuckle and grabbing hold of your wrist to pull you up, back up on his queen-sized bed.

"What are you doing with half your body outside of my bed, sweetheart?" He asks teasingly, causing you to loudly exclaim at him with mock irritation in response "you're the one throwing me around the bed like a dog with its chewing toy!" causing a laugh to erupt from his chest as he pulls you ontop of him to engulf you into another long, warm hug.

It was part of the routine for him to shove his hands under your shirt, his hands roaming across your body as if mapping every part of you out. Unfortunately for you, the Duke had also made it a habit to go on search for your bellybutton for some odd reason. You'd often find yourself kicking your legs to pry him off of you, screaming and laughing as you'd feel him tickling you as his fingers was searching for his destined goal.

"What's wrong with you?! Why are you so fixated on my navel?!" You'd yell at him between laughs, squirming and fighting against his freely wandering hands that come to a halt upon your words and being met by his icy grey eyes staring softly down at you before he so casually says the sentence that has you limp and melting into his touch.

"I'm fixated on you. All of you, and I'm trying to appreciate and love all of you. Am I so wrong for doing that?"

Tartaglia

There wasn't any special occasion today as far as you knew. No anniversary to be celebrated nor a sappy couples holiday to rub in all the singles people's faces with, so why was it that you could spot your boyfriend with a bouquet of roses in his arms from afar as he waits at the spot the two of you would always meet up on before heading out for your date?

"Am I not allowed to spoil my girl with flowers whenever I feel like it?" He had responded with a mock offended laugh as his free arm wrapped around your waist to return your gesture of pulling him into a tight hug (in all honesty you had just wanted to burrow your face into his chest to hide your teary eyes from him). You can feel his hand rub your side comfortingly, traveling its way up to pet the top of your head before pressing his lips against your forehead reassuringly, an unspoken 'I love you' before pulling you away from his chest to show you his soft smile, reserved just for you.

Inspecting the lovely roses enthrusted upon you, taking in their lovely red, almost pinkish, color as you walk besides Tartaglia. You can't imagine them having been cheap, given both their look of long stems, healthy leaves and from just how fresh they look, along with just how strongly they smelt of roses. Tartaglia's hand finds your free one as you aimlessly walk. A lighthearted laugh that escapes Tartaglia makes you turn your focus to him, noticing the way he's beaming at your fondness of the flowers. "You know I looked a really good while for those flowers you said that you liked, only to have the florist tell me that they only grew wild in another nation. I was super upset that I couldn't get you your favorite flowers!"

He'd give you the world if he could.

Alhaitham

Matching Alhaitham’s thirst for knowledge, you’d often find yourself searching for new subjects to learn about. It wasn't uncommon that the facts you had learnt for the day were things Alhaitham already were somewhat versed in, but to immerse oneself further into a subject was anything but adverse, and even if nothing new was added to his knowledge a bit of repetition never hurt either.

It did happen from time to time that you’d come across information that would never come to any use. Just fun facts to share with someone, and Alhaitham would often fall victim to your ramblings (not that he minded, much less had any complaints about that). As always, you find yourself walking hand in hand with the scribe, your mouth having gone dry from how long you had passionately held a monologue with yourself of a new useless fact you had learnt. Thinking that Alhaitham couldn’t be bothered with trivial, impractical information and that his silence was a sign of that, you can’t help but let a thought slip past your lips.

“Are you even listening?” you had asked him with a whisper, your hand giving his a light squeeze as your footsteps had come to a stop, halting the man beside you and forcing him to face you. His light turquoise eyes scan over yours, softening before a faint smile traces his lips as he nods. “Of course I’m listening. Don't mind me if I just want to listen. It's where I find the most comfort."

Alhaitham’s unwavering focus is on you. It’s always on you.

"Tada!" You hear his voice burst your little bubble, a curious hum erupting from you as you glance in Lyney's direction. A faltering swan is handed to you from him, looking soggy and sad due to the tissue's soft material and perhaps even because of the magician's untrained hands from lack of practice of origami. You don't miss the way your boyfriend smiles at you before staring intently at you, awaiting your approval of his creation.

Lyney

Sitting across you at the small café Lyney can be seen fiddling with his tissue, his plate having long been empty with only crumbs left behind of the pastry that had formerly been there. Too distracted by the scenery around you, you fail to notice the magician's hands working away on a little surprise for you.

You can't help the laugh that escapes you, due to the cute gesture of his, causing the poor man to deflate in embarrassment and shame, mistaking your laughter as being directed at him because of how just pathetic the swan looks like- The piece of paper faltering too in solidarity with its creator.

Quickly placing down the gift from Lyney, you wave your hands in the air defensively, quick to reassure him, "No, no! I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing over how cute you are being, Lyney! Thank you."

Your encouraging words is all that he needs to regain his confidence and smile right back at you with the same adoring gaze you always have saved for him.

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ohworm-writes · 11 months ago

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「✰」 ━━ AS GOOD AS I DO

RATING R - Restricted [ Content warnings : 18+ mdni, smut, dom!Nikolai, fem!sub!virgin!reader, alcohol consumption, strong language, thigh riding, heavy make-out session, praise with heavier degradation, oral fixation, fingering, size difference, loss of virginity, corruption kink, p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, spanking ]

SYNOPSIS You didn't know that it was a military bar, so you had no warning about all of the pent up soldiers that have their eyes on you and your friends. As most of them leave to have fun of their own, you don't. Why? Because you're a virgin. To your luck (or loss), a particular Russian pilot has his eyes set on you, and he intends to make the most of your first time that will have you crawling back for more.

WORD COUNT 11.3k (Too fucking much.)

The cold air bites harshly at your exposed skin, sinking its fangs in deep, forcing a shiver up your spine that makes you tense and makes way for goosebumps to break out all across your skin, the hairs on your body standing on edge as you roughly rub at the areas in hopes that the friction will do its job properly in warming you up.

It does, if only momentarily, give you a small sliver of reprieve and the opportunity to bask in the warmth before it’s cruelly yanked away the very second you halt your movements, letting that frigid cold seep right back in and settle deep into your bones, comfortably making a home for itself there.

From the exterior, the bar hardly looks... appealing, should we say? The exterior reeks of piss, stomach acid, and sex—a combination of scents that makes you scrunch up your nose in disgust and discomfort—and the building itself is hardly any better, the paint chipping and cracking all over the place with the brick looking as if it’ll crumble with so much as a gust of wind.

So, with a deep, heavy breath, you push open the old, creaky wooden door and take a step inside, immediately being greeted with a rush of warmth and the smell of fresh food and liquor. Lively, half-drunken chatter fills the air from the bar’s patrons, with some groups seated along the bar and others at tables scattered across the hardwood floor; nearly everyone within the establishment has one or more people to be paired with, leaving nobody alone.

The people, though, aren't exactly who you expected to see. When your group of close friends initially invited you to come out with them for a night of drinking near one of their flats, far off along the outskirts of the bustling city, you really had no reason to refuse the extended offer. After all, you hadn’t seen some of them in months, so this would be the perfect opportunity to catch up, no?

Well, it is. But nobody thought to tell you that you’d be walking right into a military bar.

Apparently, according to one of your friends, there’s a base just a few kilometers down the road, and, given that this is the closet bar in the vicinity of it, it’s where every active-duty soldier and veteran comes. They make up ninety percent of the bar’s patrons, too, so you and your friends are some of the few groups that aren’t associated with the military. Well… yet.

And not that there’s any issue with it being a military bar, of course! It’s just that… you aren’t exactly accustomed to dealing with such… bold personalities.

While your friend group does, in fact, consist of a few colorful characters and then some, the other patrons at the bar are a little too much for your taste. You’re used to your friends making crude jokes, being loud and rowdy, and playfully flirting with you and everyone else, but when it comes to others? You aren’t exactly prepared.

You and your friends are sat around a large wooden table near the very center of the bar, a number of large splits cracking down the length of it, with one of the legs being propped up by a book due to it not being long enough to reach the floor. At least the chairs are somewhat comfortable, even if they’re nothing more than metal barstools with a bit of cushion on them.

The alcohol is fairly cheap, to everyone’s delight, especially when it’s actually good. You’d think, with the state that the bar’s interior and exterior are in, that the drinks and food would be equally as abhorrent with mold or bugs or something disgusting, but no! The food is cooked through and seasoned well, and the drinks are as they should be. So, none of you can really complain when the main attraction is enjoyable.

You all talk about anything and everything: who is sleeping with whom, what co-worker or boss got exposed for something or other, whatever celebrity drama is happening at the moment, what show or movie someone saw recently that you just have to watch. It’s a mixture of small talk and deep discussion, with the conversation flowing smoothly as everyone enjoys their food, drinks, and the company that surrounds them.

Until the first soldier approaches.

He’s young, no older than twenty-two—even that might be a bit of a stretch—dressed fully in uniform, the green camo pants he wears tucked neatly into a pair of black boots with a fitted shirt clinging tightly to his skin, emphasizing his physique. He isn’t bad-looking per se, but he definitely isn’t your type.

He walks over by himself with a smug, self-assured grin plastered on his face as he approaches one of your friends who sits directly across from you, giving you a perfect view and earful of the interaction as you take a sip of your liquor, watching as he puts his hand on the back of her chair, speaking in a hushed whisper.

“Hey there, pretty girl. You look bored over ‘ere with all of y’r friends. I could make y’r night more interestin’, y’know. You interested?”

Okay. Wow. Starting off strong.

And before you even know it, she’s giving a sheepish smile to the rest of you, apologizing and excusing herself from the table as she grabs her coat and purse from the back of her chair, waving you and everyone off before turning and hurriedly trailing behind the man like a lost puppy and out towards the car lot outside, no doubt ready and willing to get in some action of her own before the night is through.

And that’s just the beginning. After another half hour, all of your friends have either grabbed their things and said their goodbyes to go home with the soldier of their choice for the night, or they left to the bathroom or back alley, only to come back with a limp to their gait, bruised lips, marks, tousled hair, and fucked-out eyes. And if it’s the latter, it only takes them a few minutes before they leave, just like their formers.

It’s not like you haven’t had your fair share of men and women alike trying to court you, either. In fact, there have been four different people who have come up to you throughout the night and have tried their hand at seducing you, whether it be shitty pick-up lines that they use or bold flirtatious remarks, some even trying to trail an eager hand across your shoulder or back as a means to further entice you.

But you haven’t failed to turn each and every single one of them down, polite as you may try to be. It’s for two separate reasons, you deduce. One is that the people who are coming up to you aren’t exactly your type, be it in terms of the way that they look or their personality, while the other reason is… slightly more straightforward.

You’re a virgin.

So, to you, it’s no surprise that you’re adamant on turning down everyone that comes up to you to try and, for lack of better wording, try to get into your pants. Your other friends who have already been approached and taken up their offers for a good fuck, be it bent over the bathroom sink, pressed up against the brick wall in the alley outside, or going home to enjoy that ecstasy in a bed, intend to spend their nights well.

They’ll be having more of a “good night” than you will, even though they’ve all wished you well with some variation of that phrase.

So, here you sit at an empty table, nursing your drink with a soft sigh, bored out of your mind as you trail your pointer finger around the rim of the glassware in a slow, calculated manner. You can’t help but feel a bit left out. Again, not as if you haven’t already been given a multitude of chances and offers that you could have taken up hours ago, but none of them—to you, at least—seem to be someone worthy of taking something as intimate as your virginity away from you.

To hold it in their palms like a trophy or medal to display with smug, overzealous pride. To flaunt, to brag about, and then to ultimately forget, because to them, your virginity doesn’t matter. It’s something that can boost their ego for a momentary period of time before shrugging off and away because it didn’t matter and wasn’t important.

So, no, you decide. None of the overconfident, liquid courage-fueled bastards are worthy of taking your virginity away from you. Thus, you only have yourself to blame for your “lack of action," so you can’t complain about it any longer when you’ve dug in your heels and chosen to stick firmly by your decision, now can you?

That is, until a particular Russian man donning aviators and a brown leather flight jacket downs his shot in one go and stands, beginning to take slow, confident strides in your direction from his previous seat positioned at a small table in the far back corner of the bar from behind you, with four men urging him on with a few whistles and cheers.

Not that he has any need for encouragement or prayers, of course.

You don’t even notice him as he approaches, because you’d assume with a man of his size and stature that you’d at the very least be able to hear his footsteps, but no. He’s completely silent until he’s right behind you, one hand holding onto the back of your chair in a casual manner while the other splays out right beside your drink as he leans into it, both next to you and behind you all at once.

You can feel his hot, vodka-soaked breath fall heavy against the exposed skin of your spine even when his mouth isn’t anywhere near you yet, still maintaining some level of control over himself and his actions. You’re unable to see the way he catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he grins, thoroughly amused with the way a shiver crawls up your spine, right to where you had felt the ghost of his breath just moments ago.

That, and the flames of desire that flare up and burn behind his eyes.

“I cannot help but notice that your friends left you behind all by yourself. So cruel to do that to someone like yourself.”

You can only assume that sarcasm laces his tone with the way he puts emphasis on certain words or the way he speaks with a specific lilt, but that couldn’t be the furthest thing from the truth. He means every word he says, so, if anything, it’s pure and unbridled amusement and honesty that lace his words and the way that he speaks.

Because he does think that it’s cruel that all of your friends have left you alone with nothing more than a quick, uncaring, departing word or phrase before they rush out to follow behind and fuck some other mindless soldier who, more than likely, has already had their fair share of the bar’s civilian patrons. Your friends don’t mean anything special to those soldiers, as unfortunate as it is, but that fact in and of itself is what separates him from those men.

Even if, yes, he’s in just as much of a desperate need to get off as they are.

You have to fight against the urge to roll your eyes at his words, your pointer finger continuing to drag lazily along the rim of your glass as you work to ignore him, not exactly up for trying to craft another excuse as a means to reject whatever proposal of having sex you assume he’s come up with, content with picking up your drink and finishing it off with a slow, steady breath, letting the liquor burn down your throat with indifference.

But, unfortunately for you, that only furthers his intrigue. So, with a smirk that slowly begins to spread out wider across his lips, even if you still don’t turn to see it, he chooses to take his shot and make a move. Or, rather and more accurately put, he makes an executive decision that he won’t allow you to refuse.

“Let me buy you a drink, да? Keep you company.”

And, just as stated, he doesn’t allow you to refuse him or turn down his offer like you had done with the others, already waving and making a few hand gestures at one of the servers, calling out to them for a refill of whatever you had been drinking and to place whatever your tab had been under his card, pulling out an empty chair, and taking his place in the seat beside you, getting to see that smug smirk for yourself for the first time.

And now your in it.

He’s… surprisingly pleasant to be around, you come to find out as you begrudgingly begin to converse with him. At first, you still try to ignore him, not even touching the new drink as it’s set in front of you just yet, keeping your eyes trained on and tracing the different rings in the wood table, but, in coming to the conclusion that he isn’t going to leave you alone, you start talking.

The conversation is forced when it begins, consisting of quick responses from you that lack any emotion or indication that you want to keep speaking. But he’s patient, and he waits, and he shifts his approach to asking questions that you can’t just give one to two word responses to, forcing the conversation into something of value. And only then does it begin to flow, slowly blending into something smoother—something that you can enjoy.

You learn his name, Nikolai, tasting it on your tongue with a sip of your drink, letting the flavors and tastes seep into your palette and glide down your throat until you feel it pool and fester in the depths of your stomach. The way you say his name makes his own cheshire-esque grin wifey further, his eyes crinkling with a flicker of undeniable mischief. It’s dangerous, but it draws you in just like a siren to a sailor.

He keeps the conversation civil at first, not wanting to scare you off just yet when he’s barely captured your attention, asking a few generic questions and molding them into something of substance, giving a few answers of his own and straying away from keeping them vague, trying to be as specific as he can afford to allow as a means to keep your attention drawn in on him.

But after you finish your drink and he moves to order you another without question, he gets bolder.

Brushes of his fingers against your bare skin, remarks and words heavy with innuendo, heavy heated breaths that fan across the space between you both, and purrs that make your head spin in the best ways possible. It’s equally overwhelming as it is underwhelming. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s doing it better than you could have ever anticipated, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

You’re in over your head before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

“Come on, лапушка … let me give you a better night than your friends could ever even dream of having.”

His voice is heavy, as is his accent, his body turned to look at you with his face no more than a few centimeters away from your own, one of his hands busied with trailing his fingertips lazily up and down the exposed skin of your forearm, barely even touching it at all, while the other rests atop your thigh, the warmth from his skin seeping through the fabric of your pants as his thumb brushes back and forth in a methodic motion.

Nikolai’s staring down at you with these half-lidded eyes that you can barely even make out through his dark aviators, his breathing coming out in slow, shallow exhales, weighing heavy in his chest as he drags his tongue across his bottom lip, gently cocking his head to the side with that same smug look that hasn’t left his face or lips since he first started to speak with you, danger dancing behind his eyes.

A warning and a question wrapped into one, questioning if you’re ready for a man like him.

You look up at him, searching for as much as a flicker of that same cocktail of overzealousness and egotism that you so easily caught in every other person’s eyes as they presented you with a similar offer, seeing you as nothing more than a warm body to accompany and please them for the evening. To be able to decline him, turn down his offer, and go home for the night… to be able to forget about him and this before you let it get out of hand.

But you can’t find it. He wants you, yes, that much you can tell, but not in the same way that they did.

“Okay. Yeah… sure. Yes.” You tell him, stumbling over your words messily, but he doesn’t seem to care about it in the slightest. That smile of his edges with danger as he effortlessly moves his hand, grasping onto his aviators, taking them off and hooking them onto his shirt, his other hand leaving your thigh as he moves you in front of him, moving his hand to the small of your back to guide you around the bar towards one of the bathrooms near the back.

He stands tall from behind you, confidence radiating from his very being as he casually walks, uncaring of all the eyes that stare down at the two of you from all across the establishment as the watch, knowing full and well exactly what’s about to transpire, even if you don’t. His friends, the four, sat at the table just a few feet away from the bathroom door, sending him sly smiles and nods of approval. One of them, a bearded man wearing a bucket hat, holds up his wrist and taps at his watch, sending Nikolai a knowing look even as he grins just like the rest. You don’t exactly know what it means, but it doesn’t seem to phase the Russian in the slightest, rolling his eyes as he opens up the bathroom door, the hinges creaking loudly as it arches open, ushering you inside as he follows suit, letting it close with a groan, the lock clicking.

He’s on you in a second.

He turns you around, pressing you back roughly against the door as he crowds you against it, one of his knees wedging itself in between your thighs, shifting them apart, and one of his forearms moving to lie against the door above your head so that he can lean over and look down on you, giving you a crystal clear idea of how much bigger he truly is than you, bucking his knee up against your cunt.

A moan threatens to spill past your lips at the action, eyelids fluttering as the noise bubbles up… but he’s quick to catch it. Before it can boil over, Nikolai presses a bruising kiss to your lips, groaning into it, the sound rumbling like an earthquake from deep within his chest. A long, drawn-out “fuck” passes through his lips as he pulls away momentarily, trying desperately to catch his breath, his actions filled with lust.

His eyebrows knit together, and he bucks up his knee once more as he looks down at you, watching and relishing in the way your lips part and allowing for another sweet moan to drip past your lips, breathing stuttering, catching in your throat as he brings one of his big hands up to hold at your hip, urging you to grind against his knee, a high-pitched keen from you filling the empty space, occupied only by his heavy breaths.

“Look at you." Nikolai mumbles out, almost mockingly, taking in the sight before him of your parted lips, your shoes just barely touching the floor as he supports you on his knee, guiding you to grind along the length of it, the half-liddedness of your eyes. The sight is intoxicating, one that he desperately wants to photograph, frame, and keep to himself for as long as time allows, because, God, you’re a vision.

Nikolai dives back in for another kiss, this one lasting far longer and being much heavier—nothing short of tongue and teeth—as he loses himself in the taste of you. You aren’t much better. If anything, you’re in so much worse of a state than he is right now. You can feel your own composure crumbling apart in his hands, held together only by the taste of his lips. You can’t even fight it—not that you’d even want to in the first place.

You bring your hands up, letting them glide across his shoulders, fingers splayed, taking in the expanse of them before they go up further, tangling into his hair. The sensation forces another groan out of him, the sound trickling down your throat without a single ounce of shame, freely showing to you just how deep his need and desperation are to have you run within his bones.

“Have to… have to have you… You understand, да? You’ll let me?”

Nikolai breathes out between kisses, unable to decide whether he wants to lose himself in the feeling of your lips against his and nothing more, or if he wants to map and memorize every part of the inside of your mouth with his tongue. It’s a tough decision to make, so he opts simply to alternate between the two. It’s the best he can get of both worlds, he decides.

And your mind is finally allowed the space it’s ached for to remind you of exactly what this entire situation will lead to.

He didn’t intend to bring you to the bathroom just to have a quick, hot and heavy make-out session with you, as nice as that would be. No! That’s not what you signed up for, dummy! The second you agreed to be led back here by him, you were giving him permission and consent to fuck you, and you know it!

“Imavirgin!”

The words come flowing out past your lips like water as you pull away from him, the back of your head falling back against the wooden door as you gasp desperately for air, breathing in quickly and out brokenly before you can even process what you’ve said, trying to regulate your breathing from the way he had taken the oxygen straight out of your lungs. And when it does catch up to what you’ve said, you feel your face burn white hot, completely flushed.

You’re looking at him with wide eyes, something akin to a deer in headlights, while he looks back at you, now in the process of catching his own breath, with nothing more than a slightly confused expression as he works to pick apart your hurried, panicked words. And when it dawns on him as to what you’ve said, his pupils blow wide just a fraction, minutely, and just barely noticeable.

He doesn’t look disgusted or weirded out by your words, to your surprise, having expected that exact response from him and being wildly confused when you can’t find an inkling of that expression on his face. “That wasn’t what I asked, лапушка.”

Nikolai mumbles out to you, pressing his forehead against your own as he allows his breathing to slowly but surely level out, his dazed, lust-filled eyes boring into your own, fingers loosening gently around your hip as he watches you intently.

He doesn’t care that you’re a virgin. It doesn’t bother him in the slightest, and, if anything, it turns him on. But what he's saying now is that he wants you, but he’s asking at the same time if you’ll let him, allowing for that decision to lie completely within your control. He isn’t forcing himself upon you, still giving you the ability to say no and withdraw your consent before he pushes anything further, simply asking if you understand what he means and if you’ll let him.

So, now you’re faced with a decision.

Do you withdraw your consent and tell him that, no, you won’t let him go any further with this? Because, quite frankly, you aren’t ready. Not ready to have sex for the first time in your life, not ready to lose your virginity, and certainly not ready to give up such an intimate part of yourself to a man you only met less than an hour ago.

Or... do you take a leap of faith without sparing a single glance beforehand and tell him that, yes, you do understand what he means, very clearly comprehending it and recognizing what’s to come with the acceptance of his proposal, and that, yes, you will let him have you and your body? That you’ll let him do whatever he wants to you, to be the one to take your virginity from you… and maybe then some.

It’s an important decision for you to make, one whose answer determines whether or not you lose your last sense of innocence. And, for better or for worse, far beyond your better judgement, you don’t spend too much time weighing the pros and cons before making your decision.

“I… ah… I understand. And… yeah, yes. Please.” Just like before, your answer comes out laced with hesitation and apprehension, both emotions undeniable, especially with the way your voice cracks and strains, leaving you to stumble and stutter over your words as you give him your answer with a shaky voice. Your hands are still tangled into his hair, albeit much looser now, but still present, the tremors that wrack through them gently tousling the dark strands.

And, after a moment, allowing his space to process what you said, Nikolai’s fingers resume their tight grip on your hip, the thick fingers bruising the skin, no doubt, even through the layers of your clothes. Never breaking eye contact with you, he pulls his head back, removing his forehead from its spot pressed against yours, his eyes shamelessly looking you up and down, his tongue gliding over the skin of his teeth.

“Умница.”

Nikolai mumbles out with praise, his voice barely louder than a whisper, though gruff and gravely beyond belief, a testament to his desire, moving his hand down for your hip to cup and grope at your ass through your pants, the other quickly following suit as he hoists you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips so as not to fall. Even if he wouldn’t ever let that happen in the first place, of course.

With your legs wrapped so tightly around his hips, you can very easily feel the hardness of his cock, even through all of the layers of clothing that separate you. You feel your breath hitch and stutter as it comes out shakily, your eyes boring into his own with parted lips and an open mouth, so unaware of what he has in store for you.

Oh, sweetheart, he’s going to fucking ruin you.

Unlike before, his footsteps are heavy as they move against the tiled floor of the bathroom, the thuds filling the space between the two of you, mixed with your own shared heavy breaths as he moves to, rather unceremoniously, drop you onto the long sink that lines one of the walls. Your legs dangle over the edge of it, and your thighs spread apart so far that you can feel your pants straining to accommodate them and the burn of your thighs as he stands between them.

He brings you back in for another kiss, his body towering over your own as he forces you to lean back against the cold mirror behind you, a shiver crawling up the length of your spine as you moan into his mouth, earning a pleased groan from him, just like before. His hands move, hooking into the loops of your pants as he forces them down, not even requesting for you to lift up your ass to make it easier, doing all the work for himself.

Nikolai’s tongue glides along your bottom lip, teasing its way into your mouth. His teeth clink against your own, and the kiss is sloppy and messy in a way that makes you moan out, whining softly. They’re two sounds that he eagerly swallows from your lips and drinks in like wine. He roughly shoves your pants the rest of the way down, moving them around and off of one foot so they dangle off of the other, the leg dragging against the floor.

Pulling back, Nikolai chuckles darkly at the way you try to cling to him, gently and desperately tugging at his hair with a whimper, trying to urge him back down for another kiss. He clicks his tongue, tutting at you with disapproval, shaking his head as he does so, giving you a warning look that quickly makes you remove your hands from their position, letting them come to fist at his shirt, gripping onto it with desperation.

“Нет. None of that. You're so eager for something that you have never even had. You don’t know how to act. We have to fix that, да?” It’s condescending that the way Nikolai speaks, mocking you and making fun of you for how desperate you are when he hasn’t even done anything of real substance yet—nothing more than a bit of making out and thigh grinding—has you acting out of line. Granted, you don’t really know where that line stands, given that you haven’t ever done this before, but he’s here to show you. To teach you and ingrain into you the role that you play beneath him.

Nikolai brings one of his hands up, cupping your chin and holding it tightly and firmly between his thumb and forefinger, the others pressed against the side of your throat, tilting it upwards as you strain your neck to keep up with the action. He inches his thumb up further, looking down at and watching you with narrowed eyes, cold and calculating as he presses them against your lips, feeling the way you exhale shakily out of your nose.

“Open.” It’s not a request, as you can tell, so you don’t waste any time looking at him with confusion, simply parting your lips for him and opening your mouth, just as he’s requested. He doesn’t even give you a moment to fully comprehend what's happening as he pushes his thumb past your lips, presses the rough pad down onto your tongue, and hooks it behind your teeth as he pulls you closer to him.

Drool begins to pool inside your mouth as you look up at him with wide eyes, trying to speak, to whine, and to say something, but he tightens his grip in response, growling lowly. It’s your second warning.

“I thought you were a smart girl? Didn’t I say that? Умница, Да? Act like one.”

His other hand, the one currently positioned near your calf, not having moved since pulling your pants roughly down your legs, inches its way upwards, brushing against the exposed skin and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Teasing, maybe, but it further ingrains his point into your head that, if you don’t start to behave and let him do the work, you won’t be getting any satisfaction or pleasure out of this.

He doesn’t care if this is your first time or not, and it’s not in a dismissive or cruel way. He’s simply treating you like he would any other person that he was going to have sex with, so it’s a mixture of equal rights and equal opportunity, you suppose. Whether or not that’s a good or a bad thing is… undetermined.

His palm presses against your thigh, fingers splayed as they continue to inch upward, branding your skin with the heat they exude, and, as much as you want to buck your thigh up into his palm and beg for him to rush and hurry up, you don’t. Because, lucky for you, that critical thinking skill is starting to work, the gears in your head are turning and allowing you the space to think. You have to be patient and good if you want what he can give you.

So, rather hesitantly, you wrap your lips around his thumb, gently gliding and swirling your tongue around his thumb, covering it in the slick, sticky saliva that pools in your mouth, looking up at him as you wait, playing that role of the smart girl that he wants you to be. Not rushing, not hurrying, and not begging.

And, oh, are you rewarded for it.

Nikolai lets out another deep and heavy "fuck," but this time it’s shaky and strained, the heat and movement of your tongue against his skin lighting up fireworks in his body that go straight down to his cock. His composure slips, if only momentarily, before he picks it right back up, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down onto it roughly, shakily breathing as he watches you with half-lidded eyes and a twitching grin.

“There you go. Much better.”

Nikolai’s fingers brush against the fabric of your panties, his eyes breaking away from your face as he looks down and leans his body back slightly, watching his own actions as, with one finger, he moves them to the side, exposing your glistening cunt to his wanting eyes, pushing it until it touches your other thigh, using his fingers to spread out your folds, listening to the squelching sounds they make.

He gently presses his thumb to your entrance, not yet pushing inwards, simply moving it around the area with purpose, listening to the sounds that it makes—a perfect symphony, if you were to ask him. He drags the pad of it upwards just as slowly, letting it glide and trail over the length of your pussy until he reaches your clit, his eyes flickering up at you as he presses down against it, making slow, gentle circles around it, watching you.

Even with your mouth wrapped around his thumb, you let out the prettiest moan, muffled into a hum as your hips jerk upwards unintentionally at his actions. Your eyelids flutter, twitching and arching your back in a quick spasmed motion, and he drinks in the sight of it with greed, his breaths so hot and heavy as he watches.

You’re going to put him in an early grave, Nikolai thinks to himself. How is he going to survive when you’re so good and so eager for him? Letting him play with your pretty pussy like this, toying and playing with it as if the action were innocent in nature without arguing, whining, and begging for more?

He’s being so mean to you when it’s your first time. He should be treating you so sweetly and nicely, shouldn't he? He should’ve sunk his cock into you a while ago, broken you in, and given you the soft lovemaking you deserve to have. He should’ve made you cum already; feel you squeeze him and listen to you make more of those pretty sounds that he’s starting to crave like a drug.

But that isn’t the man Nikolai is. But, then again, he can still recognize and appreciate your actions. He can still praise you and give you something of substance before he lets himself take away your innocence and let his most perverse thoughts run wild.

Taking his thumb out of your mouth and watching the drool drip down from it, Nikolai places it into his own mouth, sucking your taste from it until it’s clean. Only then does he bring his middle and ring fingers to your lips. And now, you know exactly what to do without instruction, leaning forward and taking them into your mouth, gagging softly as you take them as far back as you can, your tongue drooling and licking all over them, wetting them thoroughly.

And this time when he removes them, he quickly moves on to shift them to your other set of lips, smearing the saliva all over your cunt, right near your entrance. He teases the tip of one of his fingers around it, pressing in gently and slowly, taking his sweet time. His fingers are so much thicker than your own; one of them is akin to the width of two of your own.

It doesn’t hurt, nor does it strain too much. It’s bearable—something you can handle. That is, until he works to ease the second finger in, letting you get used to the feeling of one of his fingers inside of you for only a few moments before pressing the second one in. And this time, instead of your breath simply catching in your throat, it’s as if the wind has been knocked out of you, leaving you gaping and gasping. "O-oh, fuck, please."

You whisper out softly, your voice breaking into a whimper as your back fully arches against the mirror, your jaw slack as you moan out pathetically, closing it only to swallow the saliva in your mouth down harshly, making an audible gulp, before opening it once more, breathing out heavily with whimpers falling from your lips as he eases it in further. The burn from the stretch has you dizzy in the head—a mixture of pain from the sting of it and the pleasure of being filled so well.

Nikolai smiles slyly, pushing in all the way until his fingertip brushes against your cervix, cooing to you in a degrading manner as you cry out, your thighs instinctively squeezing together, trying to urge him away.

“What? Do you want me to stop?” Nikolai muses with a smug grin spread out across his lips, taunting you with the way he spreads his fingers out into a v-shape. He struggles against the tightness of your cunt, feeling your walls gripping onto him like a vice, but not stopping either way. He’s pushing you to your limits, maybe even far beyond them at this point, but everything he’s doing is sending your mind into a blurry haze of pleasure.

So much as him mentioning stopping makes you want to sob.

“No! No, no no no, please no. Please don’t stop. Please.”

You beg him with your breathing bordering on hyperventilation from how quickly you’re inhaling and exhaling, with a tone raw with emotion and desperation, just as it was before, but the contexts feel so different this time. You spread your legs impossibly wider, that burn from before feeling like nothing in comparison to the way he’s stretching you out right now, his fingers knuckle deep into you.

Nikolai lets out an amused hum in response, slowly closing his fingers, feeling the way you squeeze him and force them back together, before spreading them out wide once more, his thumb creeping its way up towards your clit. You can barely notice it, too busy moaning for him and trying your best to keep your legs spread as much as your body tries to fight it. Unshed tears brim at your eyes, a testament to how good it all feels.

And when his thumb eventually makes its way to your clit, applying pressure as it moves in slow circles, you swear on everything you hold dear that you could cum then and there. Your eyes roll back into your head the second he presses his fingers back together and starts to curl them upwards, hitting that gummy spot that makes your body go rigid with tension.

“Good. I need to get you ready for me, after all. It will not do either of us any good if you cannot take all of me.”

If you had even half of your brain working, you might be able to formulate some kind of response to his words, but, with your mind so overwhelmed with pleasure, all you can do is squeeze his fingers tighter and moan like a whore. He continues his motions of pumping and curling his fingers inside of you, his thumb gradually picking up its pace, swirling tighter, quicker circles around your clit.

You’re mouth is perpetually open, and all the sounds that rise up deep within your throat are bubbling up without a single barrier to block them, your hands gripping tightly onto his shirt with no intention of letting go. Nikolai takes them all in with pride, every sound fueling his ego and his desires, only encouraging him further to quicken his motions. With the way your whines get higher in pitch and the way your body tenses, he can practically taste how close you are.

His free hand moves up your chest, slipping underneath the fabric of your shirt and hooking his thumb beneath your bra, pushing both upwards. He stuffs the fabric of your shirt into your mouth, muffling your moans, and, while it isn’t necessarily his intention to do so, he just has to get a look at your tits.

He can see how hard your nipples are and the way your tits jerk and bounce softly with every catch and stutter of your breath, and the sight drives him just as wild as the picture of his fingers stuffed inside of you with a mixture of your drool and slick smeared messily around your cunt and all over his knuckles.

Nikolai can’t stop himself as he leans forward, ensuring that you meet his eyes with a gentle tap of his fingers against your cheek when he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around it and his teeth gently grazing against it with a teasing bite. That sight and those sensations, combined with the way he’s been abusing your poor, puffy clit and pussy with his fingers, are all it takes to push you over the edge.

Your orgasm hits you with the force of a truck, completely knocking the wind out of you. Your breathing catches in your throat before stopping altogether for a moment, all of the blood in your body seemingly rushing to your ears. Your thighs snap shut, squeezing tightly around his wrist, and your eyes roll back into your head as far as they can go as you cum around his fingers, gushing and leaving them covered in your essence.

He lets you ride it out without saying a word, simply watching with a grin as you lose yourself in ecstasy—the pleasure that’s thrumming through your veins like nothing else you’ve ever experienced, and he knows it. The very sight of you like that has him gritting his teeth, growling out a low “yeah, there you go" against your chest as he detaches his mouth from your nipple, watching as you come undone, slowing down the movements of his fingers and thumb to let you ride out the waves of your orgasm undisturbed.

Your breathing stutters, that familiar glossy haze covering your eyes as you come back down to earth, blinking up dumbly at him as you regain your sense of awareness, opening and closing your jaw. All of that tension dissipates from your body with ease, fizzing out, leaving you practically boneless atop the bathroom sink, working on catching your breath as you try to remember how to think.

As you do that, looking down, Nikolai slowly pulls his fingers out of you, his eyes completely blown out as he watches the way your body tremors with aftershocks, shivering once he’s completely pulled out. Just like he knew they would be, his knuckles are covered in a ring on white, and the length of his fingers smeared with your cum and slick, soaked.

He wants to taste it; truly, he does, but that would just ruin what comes next.

Blinking, slowly coming out of the fog that the afterglow of your orgasm covers you in, you watch as Nikolai pulls back, bringing his hand away from your face as he brings it down towards his lower half, mumbling under his breath in Russian as he makes work of his belt singlehandedly, loosening it just enough that he can unbutton and unzip his pants. He doesn’t even shove them down his legs to kick them off fully, simply maneuvering the waistband of his boxers beneath his balls to free his cock.

And the sight of it sobers you up quickly.

How the fuck does he expect you to fit him inside of you?

“You’ll take it.” He tells you without missing a beat, confident, practically reading your mind because he’s become well acquainted with that very look that crossed over your features when you saw it. It makes him chuckle, if anything, using his hand covered in your juices and smearing it all across his length, and you can’t help but watch greedily at the sight, understanding exactly why he’s so obsessed with sound with the way the smearing of your slick and cum fills the air between you.

Nikolai takes a step back, not yet bringing his eyes away from the sight of his cock as he mixes your juices with his own pre-cum, eyebrows knitting as he loses himself in his own thoughts. After a moment, he clicks his tongue. The sound immediately catches your attention, effortlessly making you perk up and shift your eyes from his cock to his face.

“Get down from there and turn around. I want you bent over this sink.”

Oh, fuck. This is really happening.

You nod at him, gulping down harshly as you shuffle your body towards the edge of the sink until your ass is to the very edge of it, pressing the tips of your toes against the floor as you hop off of it. Granted, you nearly collapse, not having anticipated the force of your orgasm to leave you incapable of standing on your own, but, thankfully, your tight grip on the rim keeps you standing.

Nikolai lets out a huff of amusement at the sight, making no move to assist you as you awkwardly turn yourself around while still holding onto the edge, legs wobbling and shaking as you stand in front of the sink. Now, with the change in position, you can truly see just how fucked-out you look in the mirror, just like your friends had been once before on the chance that you saw them before they left tonight.

Your hair’s a mess, strands stringing out in every direction, fuzzy with static, and your lips are completely swollen and bruised from how hard Nikolai kissed you. Drool dribbles past the side of your mouth and down your chin, eyes red from unshed tears, pupils blown out and darker than you ever would have imagined they would be. You look like an entirely different person in some ways, but in others, you look exactly the same.

But Nikolai doesn’t exactly have time for you to admire yourself in the mirror, so, with a grumble, he takes a step forward, moving his hand to your upper back, seemingly sweet and intimate with his actions, before roughly pressing you down against the sink, your nipples coming into contact with the cold surface of it, making you moan out and shiver. With his free hand, he pulls your panties down to your thighs, ensuring they won’t be in the way or an issue, before moving his hand back to hold onto his cock.

“You can admire yourself when you’re wrapped around me, лапушка. I gave you a command, so… I expect you to listen to it. Поняла?”

He kicks your feet further apart with his boots, gliding his hand down the expanse of your back and moving your shirt up the slightest bit so he can admire your ass. He taps his cock against the curve of your ass, obsessed with the wet sound it makes, letting out a deep, gutteral groan as he trails his tip along it lazily, tilting his head to the side. His thumb gently caresses the skin, rubbing up and down in a small area before suddenly removing it, only to bring it down with a harsh smack against it.

The sensation makes you lurch forward, yelping out loudly, completely caught off guard, not having expected it in the slightest. As much as you want to say that you don’t like it… the way that your cunt clenches around nothing in anticipation combined with the breathless moan you let out is undeniable. It’s an easy indication of your desires and how much you truly enjoy the sting it leaves behind on your ass.

“I said поняла?”

Nikolai growls out, breath fanning along your neck as you hear his voice right next to your ear, his hand pressing down into your lower back to support himself as he lines himself up with your entrance, bringing his tip to glide up and down through your folds, the squelching sound it makes causing you both to shutter in anticipation. You let out a pitiful whine at the feeling, one that earns you another harsh smack against your other cheek, forcing tears to your eyes.

“I don’t know Rus-”

He doesn’t even let you finish your words before he’s plunging his cock into you, pressing through your entrance and bottoming out in one swift thrust, enveloping himself in your soaked heat.

“Ебена мать!”

Nikolai curses out, muffling himself as he bites down hard enough on his bottom lip to taste blood. The squeeze of your tight pussy around him is enough to make him feel lightheaded and dizzy, gasping as he takes in a shuttering breath and pressing his forehead between your shoulderblades as he pants.

He fills you up completely with his cock, stretching your already sore cunt far past its limits as his tip presses against your cervix. Your eyes are forced to screw shut tightly as you try to grasp onto anything, but, alas, the countertop that spreads out along the edge of the sink is completely smooth, leaving you helpless.

You dig your fingers into your palms as a solution, your knuckles turning white as you press your forehead against the cool surface, trying desperately to ground yourself as a means to combat the stinging pain that comes with the stretch. The sensation is overwhelming, with all of your nerves feeling as if they’ve been lit ablaze.

It makes you want to writhe—to wriggle yourself out of his hold and scramble away from just how much it aches and burns. But, as you wait, your breath coming out in strained, stuttered breaths, you realize that he isn’t moving whatsoever. He keeps himself buried inside of you, completely still, his chest pressed against your back, as he breathes in with considerable effort and breathes out with just as much strain.

So, as the both of you lay there waiting for the pain to subside, you’re able to focus on and enjoy the feeling and be completely and utterly full. When Nikolai had his fingers inside of you earlier, you thought that that sensation was the most full you were going to feel. But, with the way that his cock leaves no extra space inside of you, filling you to the brim in a way where you can feel him bulging out against your tummy, you realize how enjoyable the sensation is.

It’s intimate and almost comforting, in a way, to have someone fill you up completely.

So, as you lie there, focusing on that sensation, you can feel that initial discomfort and overwhelmingness dissipate, leaving you solely with that fullness. It feels good, you come to find out, much better than anything you’ve ever felt before, and all you can think about is how much better you know that Nikolai can make it. So, you choose to gently press your ass back into him, taking him in impossibly deeper and giving him the subtle indication that you’re ready.

You feel him suck in a sharp breath that fands out against your skin. In a slow, fluid motion, he draws his hips back, pulling his cock out far enough that only the tip of it is left inside of you, before giving a gentle thrust to his hips and plunging himself back into you. The two of you moan out simultaneously, the sound he makes being more of a groan in nature and yours more of a whine, feeling the way he moves his hand to hold at your waist.

“Nik…” You whine out to him, your voice cracking into breathlessness as you feel him thrust slowly in and out of, the desire to beg for more threatening to pass through your lips, but the harsh squeeze he gives to either of your hips shuts you up instantly, listening to the way he strains to breathe and speak, rolling his hips with each thrust, ensuring he can get as deep inside of you as he can, his tip brushing against your cervix each time without fail.

Nikolai lets out a particularly heavy breath, grunting as he snaps his hips with a bit more force into you. Steadily, he begins to pick up speed with each in and out of his cock, much to your delight, losing himself in the wet, squishy noises it makes with the motion.

“I am going to fucking ruin you. Mold you to my cock so that nobody will ever be able to make you feel as good as I do.”

He mumbles it out, primarily to himself, even though you can clearly hear it, standing up and leaning back slightly. He lazily turns his head to the side, eyes focused on the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing with each thrust he makes, trailing up the length of your back and looking into the mirror, getting to witness it from a different perspective. The vision makes his cock twitch inside of you, forcing another groan out of him.

Taking one of his hands away from your hip, Nikolai reaches it upwards, finding the base of your neck, fingers splaying out as they cup the back of your head, before reaching forwards, tangling themselves into the strands of your hair, and pulling. The motion forces your back to arch, your head lifting away from the expanse of the sink, your eyes boring into… your own, the mirror giving you a perfect view of yourself.

Jaw slack, drool dripping past your lips, tongue out, eyes blown wide, hair a mess of strands, tits out, bent over with the prettiest sounds freely falling from your lips as you get fucked from behind in a shitty bar bathroom by a man you’ve barely met an hour ago. Nikolai takes in the same scene, his eyes watching yours as you focus on yourself, grunting out with each thrust, shamelessly making noise to properly translate just how much he’s enjoying this.

“But you would like that, да? To be unable to enjoy anyone else fucking you because I’m the one who took you first.”

Another slap to your ass leaves you reeling, your eyes rolling back into your head as he thrusts himself in deep, snapping his hips with a roughness that forces the air out of your lungs before you can even take in another breath. You feel him readjust his grip on your hair, forcing your back to arch even further as he growls, bouncing you along the length of his cock as he fucks into you with vigor.

The coil that resides in your lower stomach begins to slowly but surely tighten with each thrust, accompanied by your own pathetic moaning, whining, and keening—those beautiful tears falling down the length of your face without anything to hold them back. Your eyes glisten, flickering away from your own expression as you opt to watch his own, seeing the way he bites onto his bottom lip to hold back his moans and whines, even as he fails to do so without any resistance.

“Such a desperate whore for my cock, aren’t you? It is amusing how you’ve never had sex yet act like a slut.” Nikolai coos out cruelly, emphasizing his words with a particular harsh thrust that has you drooling, letting his own hand grip at your waist as he pulls you back into each thrust, ensuring he bottoms out each and every time without fail. The obscene sound of his balls slapping against your soaked, sticky cunt fills the air. You can feel his tip slam against that spongey spot on your inner walls—the one that makes your toes curl and leaves you feeling boneless—and when he hears the sound you make, he’s relentless in focusing all of his attention right there.

God, it makes you see stars. You feel so unbelievably full in a way you’ve never felt before, each thrust of his thick, fat cock ripping the air from your lungs, leaving you sweaty and breathless. It’s overwhelming, yet in a way that makes you never want it to stop. Drool drips onto the counter from your tongue, hanging off in stringy globs, flicking back and forth with each thrust. You can feel yourself getting close, your walls closing in on him with a grip that leaves him groaning and growling, completely pussydrunk off of you as his eyes catch on to all of the different telltale signs he’s coming to learn from you.

The way your eyelids twitch when your eyes roll back, the way your whole body tenses up with anticipation, and the way your noises get so much higher pitched

He’s never letting you go after this, he decides. Nobody is going to get to have you once he’s done with you—once he’s claimed you. He was your first, and he’d be damned if he let anyone other than himself be your second, your third, and so on and so forth.

“Come on, красивая вещь. Cum on my cock. You can do it.”

Nikolai growls out, his fingers bruising against the flesh of your waist as he holds on to tightly, as if you’d slip through his fingers if he were to loosen it, if only by a fraction. And you’ve learned from your lesson before that, being a smart girl and knowing to do what he says when he says it, so your body instinctively reacts to his command. Blinding, white-hot pleasure courses through your veins, ever nerve ending in your body, feeling like it’s on fire when you gush around him. You feel your entire body go rigid with tension,your, heart stopping for a moment, unable to breathe or see from just how hard you cum.

Oh, you feel like jelly. If you thought you were boneless before, the way his grip on your hair is the only thing keeping you up right now really shows you what “bonelessness” feels like.

Your entire body convulses, spasming and twitching and jerking you as you fight the overstimulation of him still ruthlessly pounding into your pussy, whining and keening as you babble out incoherently at him, everything making you so dizzy with pleasure. Nikolai himself isn’t that much farther behind you, the squeeze of your pussy bringing him teetering over the edge, barely able to pull out in time with a strained grunt of your name as hot, thick cum spurts from his twitching cock.

Ropes of it leak from his cock, painting pretty white lines against your ass as he groans out gutturally, leaning his head back as he basks in his own pleasure. He pants out heavy, each breath strained with effort as he blinks, chest heaving as he struggles to regain control over his own breathing, letting his eyes drop back down to admire the scene before him. There’s this dazed, lopsided smile that’s spread out across your lips, your eyes glazed over with ecstasy, just like before, but the difference in seeing your fucked-out face cockdrunk off of him. Oh, that just makes it all the better.

He blinks a few times, his jaw slack as he swallows down his own saliva and pants, his hand moving to smear his cum messily along your ass, rubbing it into your skin as if it were lotion. He knows it’ll stick to his own clothes if he does, but he can’t help himself nor care as he leans himself against you, bending over you, allowing himself to rest his forehead between your shoulder blades as his body comes down from such an intense high.

Seeing you like this, having you like this… it’s something he doubts he could ever leave.

His breaths come into sync with your own; the steady breathing, lungs filling with air, and breathing out, expelling all of that air, is an action that the both of you focus on as one, uncaring about anything else but this moment. You feel him mumble something against your back, unable to make it out through the haze of your afterglow, unable to hear all the whispers of praise he allocates to you, pressing gentle kisses against your shirt.

The moment is undeniably intimate, something you may not suspect from him, especially given the way that he treated you. But it makes sense, the way he has this imposing and overwhelmingly dominating persona that he leans on, yet can be equally caring and loving when the situation requires it. It’s a delicate balance that he maintains, further proving the extents of his own control, both over his partners and himself, and you can’t help but appreciate and admire it.

But unfortunately, the calm atmosphere that begins to settle between the two of you is so rudely interrupted by the sound of multiple harsh, sharp poundings against the door to the bathroom. Even though the door remains locked, which, thank God, Nikolai had done, the handle still gets jiggled with haste. Muffled, barely audible conversation can be heard happening from beyond the door, but it doesn’t seem like, according to your actions, that each of you cares all that much.

“Nikolai! Hurry up in there. If you don’t come out soon, we’re taking your truck back and leaving you here.”

A gruff, deep Scouse accent barks out, muffled only by the barrier of the wooden bathroom door that continues to shake from the sheer force of the pounding the knocks have been making against it. Nikolai groans out with a mixture of frustration and annoyance against the fabric of your shirt, still working to catch his breath as his pants begin to slow down, the heat of them seeping through the fabric and sticking to your skin.

“Maybe I should let him…” He mumbles out for only you to hear, his palm gently rubbing up and down the curve of your ass, working to soothe that ache that lingers from his harsh, sharp smacks. He presses a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades, trailing his lips upwards as he follows your spine and the curve of your neck, leading him to make his way to press them along the edge of your jawline. The sensation makes you let out a shuttering breath, which is uneven and shaky in nature.

The afterglow of your orgasm still lingers, mixing in with the dull ache left behind by the rough way he treated your cunt, your mind hazy as it swirls with pleasure, focusing on those sensations and nothing else, not even his words. You let out a soft hum in response, still fucked out and dumb without a single thought occupying the space in your head, not even knowing what it is exactly that you’re acknowledging. It makes him chuckle.

“Good first time; I take it, then?” He muses smugly, knowing full well that you won’t be able to give him a proper answer. But, with the look that shines behind your eyes and the state that he’s left you in, he doesn’t even have to ask that question to know the answer to it.

So, with a heavy and reluctant sigh, pressing one last kiss to your jawline, he pulls himself back. Gently, he moves to rest your head back down against the sink, turning his gaze downward as he tucks his softening cock back into his boxers. He pulls back up his pants, re-buttoning and zipping them, and fastening his belt through the loops. He composes himself after doing so, smoothing down his clothes and checking himself in the mirror.

Well, as composed as a man who just fucked can, you guess. Then he moves on to you. He presses gently kisses along your exposed skin, helping your boneless form readjust your bra and pull down your shirt, pulling back up your panties and pants, ensuring they’re all situated as he gives you a once-over from behind, pulling you against him as he checks you out in the mirror in front of you. A kiss is pressed to the side of your neck as he looks at you in the mirror, his eyes still half-lidded and a smirk adorning his lips.

“Come on, лапушка. Focus. It will be hard to walk if your legs don’t work, да?”

He teases lightheartedly, helping bring you back to reality as he helps you stand, your knees buckling instantly, but he never lets go of you once, remaining patient as the pins and needles slowly but surely dissipate, and you’re able to stand on your own, finally able to string a sentence together and cultivate coherent thoughts Still leaning into him, even if you don’t need his support anymore, you let out a soft whine laced with disapproval.

He hums, wordlessly acknowledging you.

"I don't want you to go." You complain, drawing out the last syllable as you voice out your thoughts to him, not at all ready to depart and go back by yourself. To, quite possibly and realistically, never see him again once he leaves. You aren’t ready for that, as selfish as it might be to admit. He chuckles at your words, not out of malice but out of loving amusement, gently turning you around so that you’re facing him, tilting your head up with one of his fingers curled under your chin.

“Well… I suppose my comrades can find their own way home, don’t you think? They’re capable enough. You, however…”

He trails off with a chuckle, wordlessly acknowledging your state with raised eyebrows and a shit-eating grin, to which you can only whine out into the air between you both, clearly not amused as he is by his words. But once you’re actually able to register what he means by that, you look up at him with parted lips, that dumb expression still on your face, but now it’s more endearing than anything.

He leans forward, the scruff of his facial hair scratching gently against your skin as he presses a kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger around the area for a few moments before ultimately pulling back.

“Let me take you home. You might have lost your virginity, but… that was only in one position. I think it’s only fair I help you lose it in all of them, don’t you think?”

It’s cocky and overwhelmingly confident—exactly what made you turn down the others who had tried their luck convincing you to have sex with them earlier in the night—but, coming from Nikolai, it’s a trait of his that has you hooked. Be it good or bad, you can’t find any part of yourself that’s inclined to refuse his open offer. So, with a dopey, lopsided smile that spreads out across your lips, you nod, accepting.

Because he’s right: it’s only fair.

Умница - smart girl

апушка - sweetheart

Нет - no

Да - yes

Поняла - understand

Ебена мать - holy shit

Красивая вещь - beautiful thing

#originally this was just a small idea #i just need him 😔#so now it's... a lot more #i love him so much #if you couldn't already tell that #(my past written posts all being Nikolai related staring at me like: 🧍‍♂️)#your honor - i'm a whore. I CONFESS IT!#nikolai x reader #nikolai cod x reader #cod nikolai x reader #nikolai #cod nikolai #nikolai cod #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare 3 x reader #mw x reader #mw2 x reader #mw3 x reader #i genuinely became enemies with this fic bc i put off all of the things i've needed to do these past few days to finish it #i don't even care if it's good anymore like i'm so tired #ELEVEN FUCKING THOUSAND WORDS #i need to shut the fuck up oh my gods #it's like... i don't even know what i wrote anymore so- enjoy???#edited for Russian corrections. thank you!

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starlight-sev · 9 months ago

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Joy Looks Good on You (Snape x Artist!Reader)

Request: Snape with an artist reader- she makes gorgeous paintings, teaches an art class at Hogwarts (Bob Ross style, for reference). Doesn't have many students, but when he comes into her classroom its such a calming atmosphere. Maybe a short drabble about how he falls in love with her and her skill with paintings?

Requested by: anon

Warnings: none

A/N: this is more platonic than I had initially intended it to be, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Oh! Gender neutral reader as I always try my best to write 💕

Hogwarts was home to many secrets, one of them being that the school offered painting classes as an elective for those in third year or higher.

Even you were shocked when you first heard about the job posting. You always figured art would be just a hobby of yours. When it came to jobs in the wizarding world, anything to do with art and painting was quite rare to find.

So when you were finally offered the job for art teacher at Hogwarts, to say you were overjoyed would have been an understatement. You never thought you’d be able to turn your love of painting into your career.

Dumbledore had placed you in the North Tower, just below Professor Trelawney’s Divination classroom. Compared to her room, yours was rather small: you only had to walk ten steps and you’d already be at the other side of the room. A handful of round tables with matching wooden chairs had been crammed into the tiny space. There was a small desk nestled in the corner for you to work, along with a shelf against the wall to store your paints and supplies.

Your favourite feature about the room, and perhaps one of its only redeeming qualities, was the large window in the middle of the wall. It was rounded at the top, with an ornate stained glass inlay that covered almost half the window. It was the source of your inspiration on sunny days.

It certainly wasn’t the nicest classroom, and sometimes a theory crossed your mind that your classroom had once been a generously-sized storage closet, but anything was better than being down in the dungeons of the castle.

You glanced up from your own painting to quickly sweep your eyes over the paintings your students were finishing up. You never had more than ten students a year, painting certainly wasn’t a common interest for wizards (much to your disappointment), but it didn’t matter. It gave you the opportunity to grow closer to your students, to get to know everyone’s individual art style. It made you all the more proud when you were able to see how much they progressed over the course of the year.

“Professor?”

You glanced over to see Luna Lovegood, one of your students with the biggest imaginations, waving politely to catch your attention.

“Yes?” You asked softly.

“We won’t have time to finish our paintings this class. I know we’re not supposed to, but since it’s Friday, could we leave our supplies out? We’ll be back first thing on Monday.”

A few other students murmured their agreement. You smiled apologetically, silently cursing that you had given them an assignment far bigger than they had time to complete.

“Of course. That’s fine.” You dismissed everyone with a wave of your hand. “Go on. Enjoy the weekend. And don’t worry about handing in your still life sketches this week, you’ve got enough on your hands with the landscape painting I assigned.”

A handful of cheers erupted among the students, and you smiled as each one nodded and murmured their thanks before leaving.

You stood up from your desk, walking across the room to collect everyone’s paintbrushes one by one.

“Letting your students go without cleaning up after themselves?” A deep voice murmured softly from the doorway. “I’m surprised Y/N, I thought you were more disciplined than that.”

It never failed to startle you, how Severus had this uncanny ability to sneak up silently on you. Usually you’d be able to hear students’ footsteps echoing as they made their way up the stairs to your classroom, but Severus seemed to be able to glide noiselessly around the castle like a ghost.

You set your paintbrushes in the small sink that rested in the corner of your room, smiling in acknowledgement and beckoning the professor to come in.

“It’s Friday,” you answered, grabbing a paintbrush and using your fingers to work the paint out of the bristles. “They’ve got enough going on, I figured I’d give them a bit of a break.”

You heard Severus scoff as he approached you from behind.

“You’re too easy on them.”

“And you’re too hard on your own students, but you don’t see me waltzing into your classroom to nag.”

That earned a soft chuckle from the professor as he stood beside you.

“You can use magic to clean those.” Severus observed, nodding toward your fingers as you worked the leftover paint out of the brush.

“I know I can,” you shrug, watching the water beneath the brush turn a bright turquoise. “But I prefer not to. Helps me clear my mind a bit.”

“Hm.” Was the small response you got in reply. To your surprise, Severus reached into the sink and grabbed a paintbrush, mimicking your movements as he began cleaning it.

“Oh,” you exclaimed softly. “It’s okay, I can do that-”

“Too late,” Severus retorted, casting a quick glance at you out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve already started.”

The two of you scrubbed brushes in silence, and you just barely caught Severus let out a small, tired sigh. As you placed your final brush to the side to dry, you glanced at him.

“Rough day today?”

You had to hold in your giggles as he answered your question with the biggest eye roll you’d ever seen.

“That’s putting it lightly,” he muttered.

“Come,” you beckoned as you sat down in one of the empty seats in the middle of the class. You nodded for Severus to join you as you crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in your seat. “Tell me about it. What happened? Was it Potter again?

You smirked at the eye roll Severus gave you in response before tiredly making his way over to the seat across from you.

“Someone’s been stealing supplies for a Polyjuice potion,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have reasons to believe it’s Potter and his dunderhead friends.”

You bit back a smile, and raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think it’s him? Do you have evidence?”

“Trouble follows him wherever he goes, isn’t that evidence enough?”

You had trouble holding in a giggle, and Severus glared at you.

“He’s brewed Polyjuice potion before.” Severus continued. “It’s the only thing he can actually do well. And those specific ingredients keep going missing.”

You frown a little and shook your head.

“Really, Severus. I don’t know what you have against that boy, but you’ve got to give him a break,” you encouraged gently. “He’s got enough on his shoulders right now, with the Triwizard Tournament going on.”

“And what if he is stealing from my supplies?” Severus retorted.

“What if he isn’t?” You challenged calmly. Severus sighed again, shaking his head as he gazed at you.

“Should we place bets on whether it’s Potter who’s stealing from you?” You asked jokingly, leaning forward in your seat with a smirk. Severus pressed his lips together in a thin line.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because every damned time we make a bet, you win.”

You snickered at Severus’ remark, before standing up from your seat and placing your hand reassuringly on the professor’s shoulder. He looked up at you with dark eyes that warmed very slightly at your touch.

“I truly do not know how you always manage to see the good in people.” He murmured, sighing tiredly. You squeezed his shoulder lightly.

“I just… see the good in everything I guess.” You shrugged. “Even things that seem terrible can be beautiful, if they’re in the right lighting.”

Severus let out a little snort at your comment, shaking his head.

“C’mon grumpypants,” you teased lightly, patting your friend on the back. “I know what’ll cheer you up.”

You walked over to your desk and opened the far left drawer. Upon hearing the dull scrape of wood as the drawer pulled open, Severus looked over at you with the tiniest smile.

“Have you added any teas to your collection?” He asked. He kept a somewhat level expression, but you couldn’t help but grin at the hint of a hopeful tone in his voice.

“I went to Hogsmeade last weekend and got a few more. Some just for you. Come over here and pick one, I’ll put the kettle on.”

Severus stood up just as you moved to the corner of the room to fill the kettle. You noticed out of the corner of your eye how shadow-like he was: the way his cloak billowed slightly as he almost seemed to glide over to your desk.

You heard a few papers rustle as you filled the kettle, and that’s when your heart stopped.

Oh no, oh god no.

You forgot to move your sketchbook, bloody hell.

Maybe Severus was looking at something else, you thought to yourself. Maybe you misheard and he was only rifling through your tea stash-

“Is this… me?”

Nope. He found it. Shit.

You set the kettle down slowly, your hands trembling as you felt a rush of heat fly up to your cheeks.

“S-Sorry?”

You kept your eyes glued to the teacups on the small wooden countertop, trying your best not to cringe as you continued to hear pages being flipped over gently.

“Y/N…” Severus murmured. “You drew these?”

You chewed your lip, just about ready to sink through the floorboards at this point.

“Y-yes.” Your voice came out as a small squeak, barely even intelligible.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you heard gentle footsteps approach you from behind.

“Turn around,” Severus encouraged softly. Clenching your jaw, you tried to ignore the burning heat in your cheeks as you shuffled around to face Severus.

His dark eyes were swirling with so many emotions, you genuinely couldn’t tell what he was thinking. It terrified you. You looked down, and saw that he was holding one of your sketches in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I don’t show those to anyone, they’re just for me to practice with…”

“This is how you see me?”

You heard Severus‘ voice catch in his throat, and you looked up to see his features had softened into a gentle and almost sad expression. You lowered your gaze to his hands again, taking a closer look at the sketch he brought over.

It was from the Yule Ball a few months ago. You had sketched Severus during dinner after you saw him throw his head back in a hearty laugh, thanks to a dirty joke Professor Sprout had casually dropped at the staff table that night. You couldn’t remember the joke for the life of you, but you’d never forget the way Severus’ eyes lit up with a rare joy few ever saw. Nor would you forget the way his hair curled that night, perfectly framing his face and making him look almost angelic.

“Joy looks good on you.” You explained in the tiniest whisper, pressing your lips together nervously. “I… that was one of my first times seeing you laugh, and I just…”

You trailed off, silently cursing the fact that your face was still as red as ever. Finally, to your relief, Severus set your sketch down. But when you looked up at him, you noticed his eyes were glassy.

Was he… crying?

“Oh.” You gasp softly. “Oh no, I’m sorry. It’s a terrible drawing, I know-”

Severus shook his head. “Stop bloody apologizing. It’s beautiful. All your sketches are. I had no idea.”

“Well, you weren’t supposed to find out.” You muttered, laughing your nerves out softly. Your heart nearly stopped as Severus reached out, gently cradling your hands in his.

“Thank you.” He murmured quietly. “For… what you said.”

You frowned. “What did I say?”

“About… seeing the joy in me,” he replied. “That’s perhaps the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Your heart sank as you took in Severus’ words. You looked up, your soft eyes meeting his dark ones.

“It’s true.” You said simply. “It doesn’t take an expert to see you’ve been through some real shit, Sev. You deserve to be happy.”

Severus froze at your words, unsure of what to do or how to react. Then, to your surprise, he took one more step forward and closed the distance between the two of you. He wrapped his arms around you, and you nearly gasped at how tightly he held you to him. You returned his embrace without hesitation, finally calming after the initial scare of Severus finding your sketches. He was warm. You could get used to this feeling.

“Thank you, Y/N.” You heard Severus whisper.

“For what?” You asked back just as softly.

“Showing me how you see the world. How you see… me.”

#snape x reader #harry potter #severus snape #snape imagine #snape x y/n #severus snape imagine #severus snape x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines

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beckyninja · 6 days ago

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Trust

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: some suggestive content; implied torture

Description: This is a direct sequel to At First Sight. Guilliman and his intended break the news to their entourages and face the first test of their relationship.

His calloused hands move over your body, mapping each curve and divot. You feel the heat of them, the strength of them. They could hurt you, you know. They could tear you apart with so little effort. But they won’t. You know they won’t.

He whispers your name. You’ve never heard it spoken that way before. Like he’s drinking in each syllable and is awed by the taste. You whisper his in return.

“Roboute…”

He takes your mouth again and you melt further into his arms. He encompasses you. Overwhelms you. Drowns you in his presence.

By the Light and the Void, you sink willingly.

But then he pulls back.

You feel his massive chest heaving against you, hear his breath coming in great gasps. When he speaks, it sounds as if he is trying to hold back an avalanche with will alone.

“I… I must stop.”

***

“My Lady?”

The voice ripped you from your reverie. You jerked upright, blinking. Before you, the great view port stretched to the ceiling, what was usually a view of endless starfield now taken up by the bulk of The Macragge’s Honor. The Ultramarine flagship, at least the size of your homeworld’s capital city, flew alongside and dwarfed your own ship.

It should have been an intimidating sight. Instead, you found the brutal and beautiful lines of the behemoth comforting. Your betrothed was there.

Betrothed.

You bit your lip and tried to hold back a delighted laugh.

Are you thinking of me right now, Roboute?

An impatient sigh reminded you of your company. You composed your face into a pleasant mask and turned to face the frowning attendant. She bobbed a half-hearted curtsy.

“Captain Takahashi, her officers, and Her Grace’s diplomats are assembled, my Lady. As you requested.”

You took a deep breath and rose from the cushioned window seat. “Thank you, Nita. I will be along shortly.”

The woman barely tried to hide her scoff, bobbed another perfunctory curtsy, and scurried off without waiting to be dismissed. You sighed. You’d done all you could to endear yourself to the attendants Grandmother provided. And still they treated you like some provincial hick fresh from the high country.

Which I suppose I was not too long ago.

Oh well. You’d grown used to their slights. They didn’t sting as much as they used to.

Holding your head high, you left the Observation Deck and headed toward the Bridge. Time to deliver the news.

Void only knows how it will be received.

***

“I… I must stop.”

He forces the words through gritted teeth. Every primal instinct he thought himself above roars in protest. They rage against his better judgment, urging him to dominate, to ravish. You’re warm and willing. Your very scent cries out to him. You want this as much as he does.

When he pulls away and you whine in confused protest, his will nearly crumbles.

“Oh My Hearts,” he groans, “do not tempt me.”

“Roboute?” Your soft hand slides along his jaw. “Why…?”

He closes his eyes and fights to master these foreign desires. “I will not dishonor you like this. You deserve better.” When he finally feels he has mastery again, he looks at you. “You will be Lady of Ultramar, my wife. I will not treat you like a mere mistress.”

You are silent for a moment, then, “I understand.”

Taking your hand in his, he presses another kiss to your palm. “Forgive me my rashness.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Roboute.” Your smile lights the dim room. “You’re a good man.”

If you had reached into his chest and plucked out both his hearts, Guilliman assumes he would feel much the same as he does now. Throne! His adoration is painful in its intensity.

“Sleep well, my Love. Fear nothing, and know that I am near.”

***

Roboute Guilliman was never more grateful for his skill at multitasking. His stylus flew over the parchments and data-slates before him with unerring focus, part of his mind steadily solving the unending problems of Imperial government one by one. As usual.

He trusted his face remained set in its usual mask. No one near could possibly guess at the turmoil beneath.

You. You. Youyouyouyou….

Your scent. The floral, herbal fragrance you favored, mixed with something he could only describe as fresh. Like the mountain air of Macragge.

Your touch. Cool in comparison to his and impossibly soft.

Your taste… the sounds you made….

Throne damn it all!

The stylus in his hand snapped in two. He growled and leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand across his face. For the thousandth time that day, his eyes went to the view port, and the sleek ship that floated beyond.

He understood your need to address your crew and fellow diplomats. His rational mind did, anyway. Every other part of him chafed at the thought that you were no longer in reach. You were so fragile, and this universe so capricious.

Whatever chance granted him this bit of solace could snatch it away just as easily. His chest constricted at the thought. He needed you close. On his ship. In his arms. In his bed.

No, damn it!

There were rules, in both your culture and his. Rules that needed to be followed. He would not permit you to begin your life at his side under a cloud of scandal. Throne knew acclimating would be hard enough without that. Besides, he wanted to court you, like the lady you were.

His impromptu proposal would already raise eyebrows. He frowned. You needed a proper ring. He’d have to see to that-

“My Lord.”

Sicarius marched into his office, sabatons striking the floor with slightly more force than usual. Guilliman could read the displeasure on the Commander’s face as he stiffly saluted.

“Are they all assembled?”

“Yes, my Lord. The Victrix Guard, the Ultramarine Captains in attendance, all the most senior baseline officers and officials, and the Mechanicus ArchMagi. As you ordered.”

“The Astropaths are prepared to transmit?”

“They are, my Lord.” Sicarius hesitated a moment. “Forgive me, Lord Guilliman, but, may I speak freely?”

Here it comes. Guilliman sighed.

“Speak.”

“I do not understand your reasoning behind this decision, my Lord.”

Not for the first time, Guilliman regretted the Commander’s presence that fateful night. Hiding anything from Astartes’ ears was nigh impossible, and he remembered well the look of utter horror on the Commander’s face when he’d exited your quarters.

Guilliman stood and made his way toward the door. “I shall make my reasoning clear during the official announcement, Sicarius.”

I doubt you would understand even if I explained it to you. I doubt any of your brothers will either.

Somehow, that saddened him.

***

“In conclusion, Lord Guilliman has made me an offer of marriage, and I have accepted.”

As you expected, your announcement is met by stunned silence, followed by a flurry of hysteria from the other diplomats.

“What?!”

“This is not what was planned!”

“What would Her Grace, your grandmother, say?”

“Have you lost what little mind you ever possessed?!”

You winced at the last outburst, coming from Lord O’Rourke. The stout career politician was the senior diplomat in this delegation, though your superior rank placed you in the position of Ambassador.

A fact he’d never forgiven you for.

You watched his face turn from its usual red to a truly alarming shade of purple. He lurched toward you and you had to fight the urge to shy away.

He can’t hurt me here. Not in front of everyone.

O’Rourke halted just a few feet in front of you. You could see, and smell, the sweat dripping from his face. He jabbed a finger at you.

“Foolish, brainless, naive little girl!” Spittle flew from his lips. “Get back over there and tell that barbarian warlord you’ve come to your senses and refuse his disgusting impertinence!”

Your eyes narrowed at the insult. He’d been singing a different tune when he’d actually met the Primarch, cringing and quivering on his knees.

“I’m afraid it’s far too late for that, O’Rourke. As we speak, Lord Guilliman is delivering the message to his staff, and then on to the wider Imperium. What’s done is done.” Indignation emboldened you. “And I, for one, am glad of it.”

The stinging slap caught you by surprise. A few of those present gasped, more smirked, as you stumbled back.

“Selfish bastard bitch!” O’Rourke snarled. “Have you any idea what you’ve done? You’ve sold your people into slavery because you couldn’t keep your legs close-”

“That will be quite enough, my Lord.” Captain Takahashi’s quiet command cut through the politician’s rant.

He whirled on her. “This is my delegation! You cannot tell me-”

“This is the Lady Heir’s delegation.” The Captain approached from her position by the helm. “But you stand on the Bridge of my ship.” She stood a good two feet shorter than the politician, but commanded far greater respect. “And I will not tolerate such undisciplined behavior. Will you, my Lady?”

The Captain sent you a meaningful glance. You swallowed tears of pain and shame.

“I-I will not. L-Lord O’Rourke, please remove yourself from my presence until you have r-regained your composure.”

Void! Why can’t I stop my voice from shaking?

O’Rourke looked as if he was about to argue, when a motion from the Captain brought two men-at-arms to your side, hands on their weapons. The politician seethed and stormed off the bridge, followed by the rest of the diplomats. They did not bother waiting for your dismissal.

You let loose a long, unsteady breath. “Thank you, Captain.”

She nodded. “I know my duty, Lady Heir. Even if some have forgotten theirs.” A brief pause. “Would you do me the honor of joining me in my stateroom?”

You managed a smile and followed her off the bridge. Once inside the rather spartan stateroom, the Captain pulled a chair and motioned for you to sit. She then called a steward, who vanished into a sideroom before re-emerging with an ice pack and a flask.

“For your face.” The Captain handed you the icepack. “And for your spirit.” She handed you the flask.

“Thank you.”

You pressed the pack to your aching cheek, but did not drink from the flask.

“You’ve always been kind to me, Captain.” The stoic woman bowed her head in acknowledgement. “I would know your thoughts on this matter, if I may.”

A long silence. The Captain seemed to stare off into the distance before speaking.

“In my time in your presence, I have come to know you as a conscientious young woman. You care for our people, and would never take a course of action that would harm them.”

You warmed under the rare praise.

“In fact, I believe you would sacrifice both your dignity and your honor if you believed it necessary. You have been taught to do so.”

Your eyes widened. “This isn’t like that, Captain!”

“Is it not?”

You set the ice pack on the table. Your mind spun with a thousand different arguments and rationalizations. Finally, you settled on the simplest.

“I love him.”

Her expression didn’t change. “But do you trust him, Lady Heir?”

A bucket of ice water dashed over your head would have felt much the same. “I….”

By the Light and the Void, do I? Or am I being played for a fool yet again?

You finally chose to take a swig from the silver flask. The liquor burned its way down your throat, but failed to supply the courage you sought.

“Captain, I…I don’t-”

“Captain!”

A naval officer burst into the stateroom, eyes wild. “Someone has armed the nuclear arsenal!”

Captain Takahashi was on her feet in the blink of an eye. “Shut down the firing systems, immediately!”

“We’ve tried, Ma’am. We’ve been locked out of the computer!” He swallowed. “They’re aiming at the Imperial flagship.”

Roboute.

You felt your heart still. “Light help us.”

***

Guilliman stood in his massive audience chamber. The vaulted ceilings, great pillars, and vast murals of Ultramarine triumphs never failed to awaken mixed feelings of pride and melancholy in him. But today, today he allowed himself to feel just a sliver of joy as well.

He knew few enough in the multitude shared the sentiment.

Shock seemed to be the prevailing emotion, followed closely by confusion, especially among his sons. At least they didn’t all express the same blatant disdain as Sicarius. He hoped some of them would eventually come to appreciate your presence. Part of him wished Calgar were aboard, just to see his reaction.

The baseline officials traded glances and whispers amongst themselves. They all knew of your existence, of course. But relatively few had ever come into contact with you. This news must seem to come out of nowhere to them.

Only the Mechanicum Magi had no response at all. Guilliman could imagine them wondering why he’d interrupted their work for such a trivial announcement.

He found himself oddly disappointed.

Then he noticed the serfs.

They moved among and on the edges of the crowd, unnoticed by nearly all. But his Primarch’s eyes caught the smiles beneath their hooded robes.

It seems some did share his joy after all. The thought lifted his hearts.

He turned to Sicarius. “See that the Astropaths transmit this message not only to Holy Terra, but to the Captains of the Companies as well.”

Sicarius nodded, but did not leave immediately. “My Lord, what if this is all some sort of trap?”

A few eyes glanced their way and Guilliman growled. “Lower your voice, Commander.”

He did, but did not stop speaking. “I do not know how this… female has ensnared you, my Lord. But have you considered that she could be some sort of psyker? How do we even know her people possess any useful technology? Perhaps this is all an elaborate ploy to get you to lower your-”

“Enough!” Guilliman winced as his retort echoed throughout the chamber.

He retreated to his office. Sicarius followed, silent but obviously displeased. Once inside, Guilliman whirled on him.

“Commander, I understand your concerns, but if you ever, ever question my judgment in front of such a multitude again, I will see you demoted and dishonored. Do you understand?”

Sicarius went rigid. “Yes, my Lord.”

Guilliman closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Do you think I have not considered each and every one of the things you named? I have. And I have discarded them all.”

The Commander’s facial muscles twitched in such a way that Guilliman knew he was struggling to remain silent.

Guilliman turned away.

How can I explain this in a way you could understand, Cato? How can I say that I truly do not care if her world is of value to the Imperium or not? As long as I have her.

He remembered the look in your eyes when you accepted his proposal. The love he saw there. He knew what betrayal looked like. Few knew it better.

You would never do that to me.

Alarms blared. A mechanical voice screeched through both his and Sicarius’s personal vox-casters: “FOREIGN WEAPONS SYSTEMS’ ACTIVATION DETECTED. ALL HANDS TO STARBOARD BATTLE STATIONS.”

Sicarius leapt into action. “My Lord! We must get you to the armoring room!”

But Guilliman broke away and strode to his view port. Your ship slid into view, small and silvery and somehow more aggressive than it had been just hours before. He saw portals, like mocking mouths, opening all along the side facing The Macragge’s Honor. Missile ports.

“My Lord!” Sicarius bellowed.

The mechanical voice screeched again. “COUNTERMEASURES READY. AWAITING ORDER TO FIRE.”

Behind him, he heard Sicarius activate his vox. “This is Cato Sicarius, Commander of the Victrix Guard, I hereby give the order to-”

“Wait.”

Sicarius’s voice rose into octaves not usually attained by an Astartes. “My Lord?!”

Guilliman ignored him, eyes fixed on your ship. In a mere millisecond to the average human, his mind raced through every possible option. His flagship could atomize your’s without even putting a dent in its munitions stock. Your crew knew they had no chance. That left malfunction as a possibility.

Or suicide. Your ship had been allowed closer to The Macragge’s Honor than any non-Imperial ship in millenia. This could be some desperate, sacrificial attempt at assassination. Sicarius’ words, dismissed moments before, now gnawed at him.

Had that been your plan all along?

“Lord Guilliman!” Sicarius all but screamed.

He did not speak, eyes still fixed on the open missile ports. He should give the order. But something… something held him back.

“INCOMING MESSAGE FROM FOREIGN VESSEL.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding. “Patch it through to my personal vox.”

Behind him, he sensed Sicarius was nearing an apoplectic fit.

“Roboute?”

Your voice, thin and staticky from a barely compatible communications system. But still your voice.

He activated his vox and spoke your name.

***

You gasped in relief at the sound of your name over the transmitter. “Roboute! Don’t fire. There was a mutiny among several of my delegation. They hijacked one of the firing systems.” You knew you were babbling, but couldn’t stop yourself. “We managed to stop them just in time and things are back under control. Don’t fire!”

Tears filled your eyes. You couldn’t decide if they came from the stress of the last few minutes, or the idea that your love might think you’d betrayed him.

“Please don’t fire. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I-I would never….” Your throat nearly closed.

Beside you, one of the naval officers reported. “Their weapons’ systems are still active, Captain.”

Captain Takahashi’s face, blackened from weapons’ fire, was grim. She motioned to another officer.

“How quickly can we cloak?”

The officer just shook his head.

You swallowed. It was all up to you.

Do I trust him? Does he trust me?

“Roboute, please.”

You felt a strange sense of calm as the realization you’d done all you could came over you. Now it was up to him.

The officer next to you suddenly laughed. “They’re powering down!”

The transmitter cracked to life. “Are you well?”

Tears fell. You replayed the last few minutes over in your mind. Chasing after the Captain and her men-at-arms as they rushed to the Fire Control Center. You hadn’t known what else to do, and waiting seemed unbearable.

There you’d found the door held by Lord O’Rourke’s personal guard. Shouts. Screams. Smoke in the air. Someone had shoved you to the floor. You remember wishing you had a rifle.

In seconds that seemed like hours, your group had forced their way past the door, and found O’Rourke poised to fire the missiles.

He’d looked so proud. “I do this for our people, and by the command of the rightful heir-”

Light and Void, had you really thrown yourself at him? At that moment, you hadn’t thought of the alliance, shattered before it had a chance to begin. You hadn’t thought of the hundreds of innocents who would die. You hadn’t even thought of your own life.

You’d thought of impossibly blue eyes, looking at you like no one had ever looked at you before.

When you awoke moments later, ribs aching from where you’d been thrown against the computer bank, all you could think about was getting to the nearest transmitter.

“Yes, Roboute, I am well.”

The next hours passed in a blur. Roboute insisted you return to his flagship, and Captain Takahashi had agreed. She couldn’t know who else among her crew might be plotting mutiny. But she did have one thing to say when she met the Primarch in the docking bay.

“Nothing will stop me from launching every bit of ordinance I have at your ship, if the Lady Heir comes to harm under your care.”

The Ultramarines had stiffened, but Roboute only nodded. “If I allow harm to befall her, I will lower our shields myself.”

Then he’d swept you into his arms. You snuggled against him as he carried you through the halls of his ship, ignoring the glances from those you passed.

“Where are you taking me?

“I have had new quarters prepared for you, adjacent to my own.” He smiled wryly down at you. “I am not letting you out of my sight again. Not, at least, until we reach your homeworld.”

You stiffened. “You’re taking me home?”

“Of course. How else will I officially ask for your hand?”

You pressed your face into his chest, not wanting him to see the dismay that flitted across it. Home held fewer happy memories than he thought. Still….

You trusted Roboute Guilliman to keep you safe.

***

Guilliman made sure you were tucked safely in bed, a medica on hand and one of his Victrix Guard stationed by the door, before he made his way back to the docking bay. Commander Sicarius and a rather plain-looking baseline man fell into step behind him.

The warmth and comfort of your presence faded with each thunderous step, changing into cold rage.

A tiny woman met him outside of a shuttle similar to the one in which you’d first arrived. He nodded to her.

“Captain Takahashi.”

He saw her shiver slightly at the expression on his face, though she quickly regained her composure. “Lord Guilliman.”

He glanced toward the shuttle. “My thanks for bringing me what I asked for. I sincerely hope you will not be reprimanded by your superiors.”

“I would endure any level of reprimand necessary for this. Besides,” her dark eyes glittered coldly, “prisoners are often ‘shot while trying to escape’.”

She snapped an order into her comm-link and the ramp of the shuttle opened. There was a muffled shriek as a bound and gagged figure tumbled down and into the docking bay. He’d been stripped to his underclothes, and his skin already bore numerous mottled bruises.

The Captain eyed him. “The Lady Heir managed to land a few good hits before he threw her off.”

Guilliman felt a surge of pride. “She is stronger than she looks.”

“In more ways than one.” The Captain saluted. “My Lord, I leave you with your baggage. I trust you’ll share whatever information he divulges. I am most interested in whoever gave him his orders.”

“As am I.”

The Captain strode up the ramp without a second glance at the bound man, even when he whimpered something that sounded like her name. A second later the ramp closed, and the shuttle departed.

Guilliman walked slowly toward the man, stretching to his full, armored height and never breaking eye contact. The pathetic figure immediately soiled himself.

“Interrogator,” Guilliman motioned to the unassuming baseline, “how long before you extract every secret this insect has to give?”

The man cocked his head, the implants where his eyes used to be whirring, “Oh, an hour at most, my Lord. Faster, if you don’t mind more… extensive damage.”

“Proceed.”

“And when I am finished, my Lord? What shall I do with what remains?”

Guilliman stared down, unblinking, at the screaming form of Lord O’Rourke, the man who’d come so close to extinguishing one of the only lights in his life.

“The lower decks are always in need of more servitors.”

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith @noncon-photobomb @sinistermojo @b-rabbitboss

#warhammer 40k #primarch x reader #roboute gulliman #roboute gulliman x reader #the first hiccup in the relationship #trust issues #shadowy forces at play?#but these two come out strong

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avaf00rd · 10 months ago

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Fridge

Little shits pt 2

Kyra Cooney cross x teen!reader (platonic)

actually finished this shockingly quick. (Not proof read). Submitting it now and going to sleep. So it’s bad.

I had a Leah fic that was pretty good but then half didn’t save in the draft. And rewriting is the worst. I’ll try to get back into it tomorrow if I can promise.

Enjoy bbys

——————————————-

“shit.” Kyra blankly said as she made a huge dent in the mcfoord new fridge. Don’t ask how.

“How the fuck did you manage that!” You exclaimed checking out the massive mark left right in the middle of the fridge.

You and Kyra had been in Baylor against Katie and Caitlin for a few weeks now. It was hilarious to all of you. You were also all getting great content for the Arsenal new YouTube channel where different players would do vlogs of game days and other activities.

“Ok everyone Kyra just broke the fridge” you sighed running your palm over your forehead looking back into the camera

“It’s not definitely broken. We can just undo it” she said. You grabbed the camera to point it towards her raising one eyebrow.

“It’s as big as a bowling ball” you said. Kyra turned to you and the camera with a blank expression.

“I say we grab the toilet plunger.” Before quickly getting up to find it.

“If I were Katie I would rather have massive dent on my fridge then have the fridge smell like my own shit.” You sighed as u sat down on the stool. You two were truly truly fucked this time. Some of your pranks included putting pictures of drunk Caitlin all around every second cubby at the training grounds. This round it was slightly lighter by super gluing the lids to their foods in the fridge. Lame right? Kyra somehow managed to pick up a random pot and accidentally charge it straight into the fridge. You forgot about the camera as you were lost in thought thinking about how badly you fucked up this time. Brand new fridge for their brand new place. It was over.

“Ok no plunge but I did some googling. We just need an ice cube” you guys were the definition of blind leading the blind. So of course you grabbed an ice cube and placed it on the large dent 10 times its size. “Is it working” Kyra asked holding the camera towards you and the ice cube. You slowly turned your head around to face her wiht a blank expression reading no you fucking idiot.

A knock on the door made you both share a look of panic. “The pantry” Kyra pointed intending that you just run away from this problem.

“No dumb ass” you said before getting up and walking to the door. You were nearly 100% it wasn’t Caitlin and Katie as you walked the hallway before twisting the handle.

“Hey tiny” Leah said in surprise to find you here.

“Hey Leah”

“What on earth are you doing here” she questioned

“We need your help” you said hopefully. Kyra peaking around the corner to be seen with a sad smile and a nod. Leah slightly chuckled before following you down the hall. Where you stood from afar with Kyra pointing to the fridge. Leah just bursted out laughing.

“Shit you did this” she chuckled checking it out.

“Yes what do we do!” You slightly yelled. Kyra still in shock from what happened.

“Don’t worry about it. They might be mad but Katie was telling me a new fridge and oven was arriving so it doesn’t really matter-“

“This is the new fridge!” Kyra exclaimed

Leah jaw slightly fell “you’ve truly done it again children”

“Leah please answer. What do we do?” You asked desperate for help.

“We wait until they get home” she said softly before filling up a cup of water for herself and sitting at the dining room table on her phone.

You waited around 20 minutes doing nothing. Kyra on her phone, probably researching how to fix it. And you now just sitting next to Leah looking out the window. It might not seem like a big deal. But a brand new expensive fridge, with a possible non-fixable problem was defiantly a big deal to your young minds. You just had a plan in your mind. Offer to pay to fix it. If you can’t fix it. You and Kyra will go halves on a replacement. Kyra tried to rebuttal when you brought up that plan, but quickly shut up when she realised it was the only option.

This was amusing to Leah. The panic in your faces made her laugh. The whole team was just waiting for something to go terribly wrong.

“Let me get this straight you were trying to superglue all of their food? Aha! That’s good” Leah exclaimed with a goofiness in her voice. You and Kyra just sat their blankly. Kyra soon chuckling at the thought of how this whole situation is kind of funny.

A rattle of keys on the front door made your heart completely stop. “Oh hey Leah. And girls. Oh shit what did you do” Caitlin asked with a smirk on her face kind of ready to see the next prank. Just so she could then plot her next one.

“Ok ok so” you put your hands on both their chests before they could walk much further. “We were doing a light hearted prank right. Then we made a mistake. Dear Kyra here-“

“-we both made a mistake ok! We are very very sorry and we will pay for this.” Kyra said. You both stood in front of the three older girls with your hands behind your backs. Apologising like a five year old who just stole lollies.

“Huh” Katie said confused towards the girls, while Caitlin walked into the kitchen to put her bags down.

“Kyra Cooney cross!” There was a yell across the flat. A somewhat fuming Caitlin voice coming from the source. Katie quickly following to see.

“It wasn’t just me!” Kyra quickly defended in panic.

“You did this!” You said to Kyra . Then looking at the two other girls

“I’m gonna head” Leah waved before leaving behind all of you.

“I’ll pay to get it fixed. Even though I didn’t do it” you said to them. Mumbling the last part, targeted towards Kyra.

“Bet your ass you guys will” Katie said

“This is new” Caitlin said looking at the fridge

“That we both know. And we are very very very very sorry a million times” Kyra said pointing between the two of you. You just nodded next to her.

“Sleep with one eye open. Next one will be serious” Katie said smirking. Plotting her next prank.

“You two can go” Caitlin waved you and the 21 year old off. Kyra nodded quickly zooming down the halls.

“Send me your bank details!” You said before walking out. Forgetting the camera on the bench. You went to grab it before heading out again.

“Bye gooners!” You said. Before turning the camera to Kyra who was waiting for the elevator next to you. Who turned around and poking her tongue out.

#kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross #Kyra Cooney cross imagine #Katie McCabe x Reader #caitlin foord x reader #arsenal wfc #wsl #woso x reader #woso x Teen reader #Arsenal wfc x teen #Arsenal #ausenal

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signed-loni · 1 year ago

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‼️MINORS DNI⚠️

Heeheehee

Regarding my post earlier..HERES THE FNAF SMUT

Things to know: HUMAN AU!!!!this is NSFW!!! Reader is submissive and a afab. There will b oral (reader receiving, Freddys part) creampie, (monty and freddy) roughness, degrading, blowjob,riding (montys part)(monty and freddy have a size kink. IM PUTTING MY FOOT DOWN-) WOW THATS A LOT..

ALSO!! These are gonna be they’re own stories. So no head canons. Also, WERE GETTING STRAIGHT TO THE POINT SO-

Nicknames: superstar, my love, slut, rockstar, whore, honey, baby, bitch

Freddy fazbear

You whined and moaned as the one and only freddy fazbear lapped endlessly at your folds. Hitting the best spots inside of you with his tongue, just to circle back to your clit. All the meanwhile pumping himself with his fist. You grabbed his hair and pushed down as you felt a coil in your stomach ready to burst any second, when he stopped.

You whined feeling the cold air from his room hit your cunt. “Freddyyyy!” Your whines were cut short when freddy locked his lips with yours, letting you taste yourself. Whilst making out with you, he ran his long shaft across your folds, making you moan and wriggle under him. He always felt so powerful when he was above you, you were so small compared to him, and he knew he could easily rip you in half with his cock. He never intends to though, unless you want him to of course.

He propped himself right outside your entrance, than looked up at you, eyes searching for consent before he went in. “Is this okay, superstar?” He asked “please..please freddy i need you in me.” With that, he slowly pushed in, careful not to hurt you. He heard your whines and mewls, already so fucked out for him and you’ve barely even started. He pushed in more, almost half way when tears threatened to spill. He stopped and said “are you okay, my love? We can stop at anytime if you wish” you moaned again, “its okay, freddy, please keep going” he pushed himself further in, and in a few seconds, he bottomed out, leaving you completely full, and a bulge in your stomach.

He stayed like that for a few minutes, letting you adjust to him, which was MUCH appreciated. Once he got the green light to move, he started his slow, steady thrusts. Making sure to not cause much pain. He heard you moans and whines and quickly locked lips with you again, moaning into the kiss himself, goddamn you were tight! He picked up the pace a bit, making you cry out with pleasure.

He was now slamming into you, thrusts sloppy and messy, wet kisses being placed everywhere. “Youre doing so well for me, superstar” Now, Freddy’s greedily chasing his own orgasm. The lewd sounds of your pussy squeezing him and his dick ramming into you were music to his ears. You felt the familiar coil building up in your stomach. Shouts of “gonnacumgonnacumgonnacum!!” Filled the room, and just like that, you came undone under him. Your walls squeezed and loosened around him, making him cry out. “Oh my gosh oh my gosh !” Following with milky white streams painting your walls.

Freddy and you slumped on his bed, him on top of you. He rubbed your stomach where the bulge was and kissed your neck, softly. “Are you okay superstar?” He asked, voice low and raspy, but filled with empathy. He removed his dick from inside you and watched the cum leak out, pushing it back in with his fingers. He stood up and went to the bathroom, running a hot bath for the two of you. He picked you up and put you on his lap, soothed by the water on his aching muscles. You sunk into him, fucked out. “I love you, superstar.” You turned around to face him, kissing his forehead. “I love you to, freddy”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Montgomery Gator

Monty gripped your hair as tight as he could, hearing your muffled sounds of you trying to take him in. “Thats my good slut, such a fucking whore for this cock, huh?” He moaned and growled, which made your core ache for some friction, rubbing your thighs together. Monty took a mental note for that, when you licked a long stripe up from under his shaft, right where that one specific vein was. He tried hard not to grab your head and just lose whatever restraint he had.

You were trying to keep a pace, not fast enough to hurt, but not slow enough to make monty fall asleep. That would be embarrassing…Anyhoo!

Monty was trying not to lose all self control, if he still had some, but the way you bobbed your head, clearly knowing he was holding back, even if it was slightly, he couldn’t help but grab your head and start violently fucking your mouth. Making you gag and moan on his long shaft only make him even more riled up.

You hallowed your cheeks while monty brutally fucked your mouth dry. Pulling your hair, growling so your other bandmates in the other room could definitely hear you. His bass and your drumsticks somewhere on the ground, your black and lavender band jacket somewhere tossed onto the floor also.

Monty thrusted one, two, three times, and completely released all of his seed into your mouth. Painting it a pretty white, leaving your core dripping and aching for something, anything.

Monty has fucking STAMINA. And what i mean is, he could last all night just doing this and fucking you without getting tired if he wanted to. He knew you ached for something, and what kind of boyfriend and coworker would he be if he left it to yourself to get that oh so-needed-friction?

Monty picked you up and placed you right onto his already hard cock, he wasn’t going to leave it entirely up to you to get the pleasure you wanted, but you were going to still have to work.

He sat you on his dick, and looked at you expectantly. “Whatcha waitin for rockstar? Get to ridin. I bet you want this cock in you, moaning like a bitch in heat while i fucked your face. Come on, i know ya want to.” And just like that, you started riding him. Definitely not sensual, though. You were shaking, trembling even for his dick. You got straight to work, making sure to pleasure not only yourself, but him to.

Your tits bouncing in his face, all the while your mumbling and moaning on his shaft, chasing your orgasm as the coil in your stomach tightened. Reaching your hand down to circle your clit. “Ah -fuck- look at you, trying so desperately to -mngh- get that oh so wanted orgasm of yours.” Monty leaned into your ear, voice low and raspy, he said “go ahead rockstar*pant* you earned it.” And with that, you rode him until all you could see was stars. “Fuck! Monty oh my god!!” “Shitshitshit, I’m gonna come” monty roared “come with me, baby. Come on i know you can do it, you’ve done it so many other times, i know how much you love this cock, so come with me”

Only a few more thrusts up from him and a few bounces from you, and you both came at the same time. You collapsed onto monty, breathing heavy and trembling. Monty picked you up, dick still inside you, and walked to get some tissues. Carefully, he set you back down on his bed, cleaning you and himself up with the tissues he brought back. Walking away for a second to bring you and him comfy clothes to sleep in. Putting them on himself and you. Putting you on his chest while he listened for you breathing, you listening for his to.

You looked up to monty, and lovingly sighed at him. “Thank you, monty. I love you” you said “I love you to, rockstar. And anytime, ya know i love yer pussy.” You tiredly chuckled and fell asleep on his chest, feeling happy and full.

#fnaf smut #fnaf security breach #fnaf #glamrock freddy #glamrock freddy x reader #glamrock freddy smut #mongomery gator #montgomery gator x reader #monty gator #montgomery gator smut #montgomery #montgmery gator x reader smut

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therhythmafterthesummer · 1 year ago

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In the Labyrinth (M) ~Changbin

Pairing: Minotaur!Changbin x AFAB.Reader Themes: Mythical AU | Angst | Smut | Fluff Word Count: ~14k | AO3 Synopsis: The Labyrinth was an enigma for most people. Its existence was known, but what exactly happened within it was a complete mystery. When you entered the Labyrinth, you weren’t really sure what you’d have to come face to face with… Not even in a million years would you have guessed just exactly what you’d find in here. Warnings: descriptors of the reader such as: having long hair · mentions of murder · mentions of assault · depictions of anxiety · violence (in many different forms) · Changbin is 300cm tall (feels like that warrants a warning) · graphic depictions of outercourse (smut warnings under the cut). - feel free to let me know if i missed any.

Author’s Note: shout out to the anon that sent this ask back in august and ingrained the mental image of minotaur!changbin in my brain. more notes at the end.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Smut Warnings: size kink · literal monster cock (he’s a giant… and a half-bull, half-man one at that…) · nipple play · mutual masturbation · non-penetrative sex.

Disclaimer: the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

The sound of your footsteps bounced off of the walls. The corridors were more than spacious, well over twenty metres wide, with the ceiling probably twice as high, but even if it wasn’t crowded in here, it still made you a bit claustrophobic.

You supposed that the few holes in the ceiling did help ease that feeling a little bit. Emphasis on a little bit.

Even if you weren’t particularly thrilled about being down here, you still walked, because there was simply nothing else to do.

You could’ve sat down and awaited your death exactly where you had landed when they threw you in here, but you were never one to remain still for too long.

So, after having a good crying session, and after hours had passed since you’d been given your death sentence, you had finally stood up and started to walk.

You knew what this place was, although you’d never really seen it. You hadn’t even known it was here in this exact area.

The Labyrinth.

It was said that the place was humongous, practically never-ending, built by a king in ancient times as an offering to the Gods. Presumably, it’d ended up buried in the earth as time passed, and it stretched over kilometres and kilometres of land, but no one had really seen it and lived to tell the tale. At least, no one you knew of.

Law enforcement clearly knew the place, but you weren’t really sure if you could call them people. After all, they had never taken you seriously when you’d sought out their help. In a way, you felt like it was their fault you’d ended up here in the first place…

Although you’d heard of this place, you never really imagined it’d look like this inside. The brick walls were looking a bit worn down, but still structurally sound. They were lined with torches lit with eternal fire, just like the tales said. The floor would alternate between dirt, gravel, actual flooring, and mud.

As you walked, you saw some ponds, some that even had fish inside. You figured that could be a potential way out, but you weren’t sure how deep you’d have to swim or if that’d be viable at all, so you scrapped the thought altogether.

Sometimes, you’d see trees. Especially in those areas where there were holes on the ceiling.

Some of those holes were partially blocked by metal rods, like law enforcement realised they were there and did the minimum required to keep a person or an animal from falling inside. Others were fully open, they varied in sizes, but they were honestly too high up for a person to reach them.

The trees, the mismatched flooring, and the occasional patch of grass weren’t that odd, though. They fit in well, and their presence made sense. What did feel out of place were the drawings on the walls.

They weren’t on every wall, but there were so many of them it was hard not to notice they were there. Some looked like they’d been there for a long time, the colours were a bit washed out and some of the pigment had probably been absorbed by the brick overtime. Others looked like they could’ve been made a few weeks ago.

Birds, trees, deer, the sun, the moon… They were mostly nature themed, and, in any other context, you might’ve been inspired by the artistry. Even if they intrigued you, it was hard to appreciate them when you felt so hopeless, when you felt so… empty.

As soon as you had stopped crying earlier, you had accepted your fate–how long had it been since then? How long have you been walking for? Hours? How many? It was hard to tell down here…

You realised just how much time had passed once you noticed another hole in the ceiling. You might’ve missed a few before, since it was clearly now well into the night and there was no light to highlight their presence.

The faint stars you could see out of that hole made a knot form in your throat and tears well in your eyes.

This was unfair.

You shouldn’t be the one in here.

If anything, it should’ve been him.

If anyone had paid attention to you, it would’ve been him.

But instead, here you were.

You found a patch of grass under that hole you saw, so you just laid down and curled in on yourself and called it a night.

As the tears started to fall again, you reminded yourself that you had accepted your fate.

There was no going back now.

It was hard to tell how long you’d been inside the Labyrinth for.

The first couple of days, you kept count diligently, but at some point you realised it was absolutely pointless. Why would you even want to know that information, if you weren’t going to be able to leave?

You were on your own here.

You’d seen items that clearly belonged to someone at some point scattered around the many corridors of the Labyrinth, but you hadn’t seen a single soul. Only the fish you’d caught from the occasional pond you found that helped keep your stomach full, or the odd magpie that would come from one of the ceiling’s holes and jump around for a bit before taking off and leaving you alone once again.

You were on your own here… That was, as long as the stories weren’t true.

At first, you thought that the death sentence meant you’d be locked here to starve to death, but that logic started to crumble when you saw just how many sources of sustenance were available. Fresh water, fruit, fish, birds–if one was skilled enough to be able to hunt one of those, or at least have the will to…

You wondered if law enforcement knew this place was like this… Whether they knew or not, you figured it probably didn’t matter. The longer you spent here, the more it made sense to you that the stories were true.

It was said that a beast lived inside the Labyrinth.

A beast that would make the strongest, bravest man cower in fear.

Some people said it had multiple sets of arms, or that it was as big as the royal library building, bigger than any temple anyone had seen. Others said it was such a deformed being that just the sight of it would kill you, and if that didn’t, it would make sure to do so by eating its victims piece by piece.

You knew these were nothing but stories to garner attention, for people to cause unnecessary chaos just because they could. If these people had actually seen this alleged beast, you supposed they wouldn’t even be alive to share their experience with the world.

You had never believed such a thing existed, but as nights and days went by, there was a small–and very scared–part of you that believed it might be true. Maybe this beast was very real, and was roaming the corridors of the Labyrinth.

Even if you’d been lucky to have found a few ponds that were large enough for you to bathe in, you still had pretty much only what you’d been wearing since you were thrown in here. You had used those ponds to wash your peplos a few times, but, unfortunately, it wasn’t even in good shape to begin with, and rinsing it in water seemed to hardly help its condition.

Your feet ached, your sandals were certainly not meant to be used to walk these distances, and the feeling of your dirty garments, combined with the lack of human contact, were steadily driving you crazy with every day that passed. Maybe this was the punishment. To be driven to insanity by what would usually be a minor inconvenience, by the amount of nothing that was happening around you.

The fact that you kept seeing his face in your dreams didn’t help it one bit.

Sometimes, you’d see it even when you were awake. You just needed to close your eyes, and you immediately got flashes of red and the feeling of pure hatred and anger…

You always felt like washing your hands after, like jumping into any pond or puddle you could find. And whenever you could, you did.

Unfortunately, no amount of hand-washing and bathing would make the feeling go away.

You figured you’d have to learn to live with it.

As you furiously scrubbed your palms for the millionth time that day, you started to hear something.

Your movements stopped, but your hands remained submerged in the pond. It was usually quiet inside the Labyrinth, save for the few birds that’d sometimes fly and sing above you, or the occasional splashing fish inside the numerous bodies of water.

But, right now, you could definitely hear something… Not only that, but you could feel something.

You could barely notice while you still had your hands under the water, but the rippling on the surface of it couldn’t have been made by you. Not when the little pebbles on the ground were shaking, too.

Thump…

The sound seemed to be coming from the corridor on your right. It was growing closer, but your body wouldn’t move. You couldn’t move. You were just kneeling there, looking at the flickering torches lining the walls, with your hands still inside the pond, completely paralysed.

It wasn’t until you saw the shadow of something popping from around the corner that you actually came to your senses.

You had to run.

And you had to run now.

You stood up from the ground faster than you could even blink. Taking the lower part of your peplos with tight, wet fists, you just started to run as fast as you could.

You could practically feel your heart in your throat as anxiety started to kick in. You had convinced yourself that this beast didn’t exist, you had thought that since you hadn’t seen it in your time here, it must’ve not existed at all.

But the deep bellow that resonated within the corridor was proof enough that you had been severely mistaken.

It was so loud that the sound seemed to penetrate into your skin and rattle your bones from deep within. A ringing broke free in your ears, accompanying your agitated heartbeat.

Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump…

The whole ground shook with each heavy step the beast took, so much so, you tripped and fell into a path of rough gravel, ripping your clothing and scraping your knees in the process.

You couldn’t stop, though. There was no pain, no moment to think twice, you just stood up and kept running. You ran and ran and ran, turning the many corners of the Labyrinth as you went…

There was a little voice in the back of your mind telling you it was useless, but you didn’t want to hear it. You refused to hear it.

At least, until you turned and found yourself in a dead end.

Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump…

Whatever it was, it drew closer and closer, shaking the ceiling and the walls as it tried to catch up with you.

Maybe you could still escape it somehow. Maybe, you’d be able to run past it and lose it in the many corridors of the Labyrinth.

When you turned around, you realised just how foolish that thought had been.

The air escaped your lungs when your back hit the wall. Your feet weren’t touching the ground, and you could feel pressure on your sides from where you were being held against the wall.

Your vision was blurry from the lack of oxygen, you could barely make out the shape in front of you. Horns, fur, and… and a face.

You’d accepted your fate…

Or so you had thought.

“Please…” Your voice was barely above a whisper, not only due to how breathless you were after running for so long and after being pushed so forcibly against the wall, but also because the knot in your throat was just too big. “Don’t–Don’t hurt me”.

The first tear fell down your cheek, and many more followed soon after. You couldn’t see properly. Whatever was in front of you, was big enough to shield all light from hitting whichever parts you could’ve potentially seen.

The creature huffed, and you closed your eyes tightly as its face moved closer to yours.

Its breath was warm against your face. You almost flinched, expecting the smell of rotten flesh to envelop you, but, instead, all you could smell was laurel.

You could feel yourself tremble in its hold as sobs kept escaping your throat. The creature sniffed you, first your face, then your neck. It got so close in its exploration that you could feel the tip of a textured, moist nose against your skin. You braced yourself for what was to come. You were sure it was getting ready to eat you whole, hopefully in one single chomp, so you wouldn’t have to suffer too much…

The thing pulled away from your neck, and just when you thought it was going to go for it, you were moving.

It was so unexpected you barely registered it.

One second you were pressed against the bricks, and the next your stomach was pressing against firm muscle, and your arms were dangling over the creature’s back. Almost like it… like it had thrown you over its shoulder. And, after a few seconds of shock, you realised it had.

The beast had a strong hold on your back as it started to walk, presumably taking you somewhere.

You tried to blink the remaining tears away, at least enough so you could properly see something, anything.

You caught sight of the ground. You were definitely moving, and, for a moment, you thought you were imagining things.

You could see smooth skin, you could feel it against your arms and hands whenever they hit it as they moved with each of the creature’s steps. Its back was very human-like… However, that smooth skin transitioned into dark fur towards the lower part of its body.

The tail of the creature swishing from side to side was the last thing you saw before you lost grasp of your surroundings.

Warmth.

You felt warm, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. It was more like… a cosy feeling.

There was soft fabric under your hands, you could feel it dragging against your skin as your consciousness woke up.

Laurel… The smell of it filled your senses with that first intake of breath.

Laurel… like the beast’s breath.

Your eyes snapped open. They immediately landed on the patch of night sky that could be seen from the hole in the ceiling, right on top of you. You blinked slowly, taking in the sight of the twinkling stars above you.

Faint chewing sounds brought you back into the room, they made you remember what had happened before you lost consciousness. With quick movements, you sat up, and your breath hitched in your throat when your eyes locked onto the beast sitting a few metres in front of you.

Its eyes bore into yours as it chewed leisurely, on what you assumed to be a deer leg based on the shape of it. It didn’t make any movements, nor did it make any sounds–other than the occasional grunt when the meat was too stuck to the bone.

You were, quite honestly, speechless.

You had heard of the beast, but none of the descriptions truly matched what you were seeing right now.

A big, big creature. Inhumanly tall. Its torso was that of a man. Well defined, smooth, tanned skin, strong–very strong…–pecs, nipples adorned with silver jewellery, even stronger looking arms, and, although bigger than you had ever seen them, very human-looking hands.

That torso transitioned into bovine-like lower limbs–covered in thick, dark fur, strong thighs and calves, ending in hooves. But, most impactful, was its head. Human-looking as well, save for the pair of horns that protruded from its skull and a cattle-like nose. The horns were decorated with thick silver rings that glistened with the very few torches lit around the room.

Its face, though… Chubby cheeks, pouty lips, and a strong, but bull-looking nose, pierced with a thick silver hoop. Objectively, the face of a handsome man, all things considered…

You had truly never, ever seen anything like it.

The way it was looking at you felt purposeful, like it wasn’t doing it just for the sake of it, but more like it was aware of your presence in a conscious, coherent way. It wasn’t just the way an animal would look at another animal, more like a human would look at another human.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of your body. Everything hurt. Your feet, your knees, your arms… you were sore all over. When you finally broke eye contact with the creature–man…?–in front of you, and looked at yourself instead, you were perplexed at the sight of your bandaged knees.

Your eyes snapped back up to meet the beast’s, who was eating the last few pieces of meat off the bone in his hand, but still looking at you.

“Did you…” Your voice broke due to your sore throat. You cleared it before you tried to speak again. “Did you do this?”

You gestured to the bandages, and it nodded to your question.

The beast understood you. It understood you and was able to answer the question.

“…Why?”

It seemed to be thoughtful for a moment, suckling on the bone to leave it completely clean before it threw it on a pile of bones in a corner of the room. Ultimately it simply shrugged, rendering you speechless once again.

The beast stood up from the ground, and walked towards another corner of the room, where a pond was. It knelt on the edge of it, and dipped its hands into the water. After scooping some water into its palms, it brought them close to his face and drank from them.

Was it… washing its hands? And its mouth?

You realised it was, in fact, washing its mouth when it–he…?–finally stood up and walked over to some trees, where he plucked some leaves to eat them–or, more accurately, to chew on them.

“What… What are you?” You couldn’t help the question from leaving your mouth. What you were seeing right now was so absurd you just needed to ask.

He shrugged once again, chewing leisurely as it finally started walking closer to you.

You honestly didn’t even try to move away, you were too in awe of his entire existence for your body to properly send you into fight or flight response.

He was so… big. Even when he finally crouched in front of the pile of fabric you’d been laying on, he just looked huge.

“Changbin”, he said all of a sudden.

Your jaw went slack for a moment. He could speak.

“Ch–Changbin?”

He nodded. “That’s what… my father calls me”.

Changbin spoke slowly, like he wasn’t used to speaking at all. You supposed it made sense, considering the stories surrounding the beast inside the Labyrinth.

But… father, he said? “You… you have a father?”

He nodded again, but didn’t say anything else. Changbin just looked at you, in complete silence.

You’d admit it was a bit… awkward.

“Do you… Is this what you do with the people that are thrown into the Labyrinth?”

Changbin shook his head, which further puzzled you.

“I usually kill them. Sometimes I eat them if there’s nothing else to eat… Other times, just use them as food for the plants and birds that live here”, he said simply, like it was nothing. You supposed to him it was nothing.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” You had to ask, because you just couldn’t comprehend how you could still be alive.

His eyes jumped from one of yours to the other repeatedly for a bit. Until he eventually shrugged. “Don’t want to”.

You didn’t really feel like asking ‘Why?’ again, so you just cleared your throat, and decided to introduce yourself instead.

Changbin remained quiet for a few moments, until he repeated your name a few times out loud, like he was trying to get used to the sound.

After about ten minutes of prying, Changbin explained to you that this was his den. It was at the very centre of the Labyrinth. He knew this whole place like the back of his hand, every twist and turn, every pond and every tree, he knew where absolutely everything was. Apparently, he’d lived here a long, long time.

You wanted to inquire more, but before you could, his ears perked up, and he looked towards the one and only exit of this area.

“Someone’s entered the Labyrinth”, he mumbled, almost to himself. He stood up from the floor, and wiped his hands on his fur before he started walking. When he reached the entrance, he turned back to look at you. “Stay here. Will be back in a couple of days”.

You didn’t really think you had any other choice.

Coexisting with Changbin was… weird.

It wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but it was certainly weird.

He clearly didn’t understand human behaviour much. As in, he’d do things people typically didn’t do.

He’d stare at you a lot–very intensely, if you might add–he spoke in short sentences, or was too forward with what he said. For the most part, though, you didn’t mind. Considering the type of men you were used to, Changbin was far from bad.

Was he a huge half-man, half-bull creature that ate humans sometimes?

Yes.

But even then, he was heaps better than other men you’d met.

He had offered his nest for you to sleep on. He’d shared with you any fish he caught, and even brought you fruit sometimes. For the most part, you didn’t leave his den, and he simply let you stay.

Being honest, part of the reason why you didn’t leave was because you weren’t sure if you were allowed to. After all, he’d brought you in here himself.

Whenever someone entered the Labyrinth, he’d always ask you to stay while he left to look for them. Upon his return, he’d also share whichever goods he’d retrieved.

“You want this?” Changbin offered you a lump of fabric. It almost looked like a napkin in his hands, but when you took it and had a good look at it, you realised it was a chiton. And a fairly new one at that.

Your peplos was way too worn by now. You weren’t really sure how long you’d been inside the Labyrinth at this point, but you also figured it really didn’t matter. You’d washed your clothes plenty of times during your time here, but the rips and tears were just too many already, so you accepted the fresh garment.

“Thank you”, you looked up at him, trying not to focus too much on the swell of his chest, or the trail of fur that started from his navel and continued downwards, turning into his bovine legs.

Changbin was, truly, a sight to behold. Roughly three metres of hunk… The longer you spent around him, the longer you just… wanted to look at him.

You supposed you weren’t any different than him in that regard. At least, he didn’t seem bothered by it when you stared at him.

Changbin nodded, and made his way to his makeshift, newer nest. You felt a bit bad that you’d taken his much bigger sleeping space, but when you tried to get him to use it again, he simply told you ‘It’s your nest now’, so you just… kept using it to lay and sleep on.

“Washed it on my way here”, Changbin said once he was sitting on his nest, looking at you. Only then did you realise he’d not only brought the chiton with him, but also a bowl full of what looked like wildberries, and a guest.

The guest sat on the very top of his head, it was a bird. A fairly small one, but one that was clearly injured, if the way it weakly fluttered its wings was anything to go by.

You nodded, and repeated a soft ‘Thank you’. You honestly tried not to think too much about the person this piece of clothing belonged to just a few days ago. There was no point in that… It was yours now.

When you brought your hand to the fabric belt around your waist, you untied the knot that kept your peplos in place. The garment loosened, but before you could remove it, you looked back at Changbin.

He was just… staring at you. Like he always did.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat you felt spreading on your cheeks. “Could you, uhm…”

His ears perked up, listening intently to what you had to say.

“Could you maybe look away?”

Changbin blinked slowly, and his tail started swishing calmly behind him. “Why?”

“Because, y’know… I’m going to undress”, you replied simply, bringing the chiton closer to your chest. The heat on your face seemed to intensify.

“And?”

You were slightly taken aback by that. But as you looked at him, you couldn’t see anything other than genuine curiosity in his eyes. “I’ll undress… That means I’ll be naked in front of you”.

“Okay”.

Now you started blinking slowly. Okay he said. Just… Okay. How… odd. “Changbin, I don’t want you to, uh… see”.

His eyebrows furrowed at that. “Why?”

“Because it’s not appropriate”.

“How come?” He placed the bowl on the ground and leaned back on his hands, spreading his legs in front of him. “I’m naked right now”.

Ah… You supposed he was naked.

You tried really hard not to move your eyes away from his face, especially considering the position he was in… You didn’t want your eyes to just wander to improper territories. After all, there seemed to be a lot to look at…

As you pushed aside the chaotic thoughts inside your head, his comment made you realise that maybe it wasn’t inappropriate to be naked. At least not here, not with Changbin.

You weren’t on the surface anymore. You weren’t bound to human customs anymore, not since the moment you’d been sentenced, and the more you thought of that, the more you started to understand.

This was your safe place now. There was no judgement here, or, at least, you hadn’t felt any at all.

So you swallowed, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. With your eyes fixed on Changbin’s, you tried your best to ignore the warmth that took over your face as you undid your peplos.

The garment fell to the floor, and only then did his eyes wander. He looked at you, with his head tilted to the side. You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes twinkle under the light of the few flickering torches on the wall. ‘Don’t like to keep too many in here… Too bright’, Changbin had told you a few days ago, when you’d asked why there weren’t as many torches in his den as in the corridor walls, and his answer had just made sense to you.

You could almost feel his eyes tracing every curve of your body, and you tried to not focus on how that made you feel. Instead, you just threw the chiton on and quickly fastened it with the belt around your waist.

Changbin’s eyes were back on yours as you finished fixing your clothes, before you started to plait your hair.

“Are you cold?” He asked all of a sudden, just as you finished tying your hair.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Not… not particularly?”

“Why’d you wear that, then?”

“Wear what? This?” You gestured to the garment you’d just put on, and Changbin simply nodded to your question. You blinked blankly at him for a few moments before you answered him. “I don’t… I shouldn’t be showing my body like that, y’know? It’s inappropriate. At least, on the surface it is. So we just… wear clothes”.

“That’s why humans wear clothes?” He sounded genuinely incredulous, and based on the way his eyes widened, you figured he was. “Thought y’all were just cold all the time”.

You couldn’t help but snort at that. You laughed. You laughed like you hadn’t laughed in weeks, almost madly even.

This was all just so, so absurd. You’d been sentenced to death, and somehow, you’d ended up here, with a creature like Changbin. A sentient creature that thought humans wore clothes just because ‘they were cold all the time’.

“Why shouldn’t you show your body?” Changbin looked beyond confused, and somehow it made you laugh harder. “It’s… well, there. It’s you. Why hide it?”

Your laugh died down, and you wiped the few stray tears that had fallen from your eyes. There was a small smile tugging at his lips, he didn’t seem fazed by your fit of laughter other than looking mildly confused now, so you just composed yourself and answered him as honestly as you could. “It’s… a private thing…”

“Private?” Changbin asked, tilting his head cutely to the side. “So no one has seen you naked?”

You went quiet at that, and started fidgeting with the end of your belt. “Some people have… Y’know, my mum… My–my husband…”

The title left a bitter taste on your tongue, but you tried to ignore it. You didn’t like thinking about him. Whenever you did, you always tried to squash the mental image to the deepest recesses of your mind. It was just… a bit too much still.

“You’re married?” Changbin asked, curiously, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees.

“Not anymore”, you looked away from him, trying to ignore his peering eyes. You really didn’t feel like elaborating further, so you tried to divert the conversation by talking about literally anything else. The weather, the flowers that had started to bloom in his garden, the bird on top of his head…

Changbin didn’t really pry further, he just followed your chaotic rambling as best as he could, until he eventually started crushing the berries in his bowl and telling you about the bird.

Apparently, he’d found it yesterday when he was on his way back here, and had been trying to nurse it back into health since. While he told you the story, he kept crushing the wildberries in his bowl, and he’d occasionally bring his free hand up to the little critter. It simply pecked his fingertip a few times before it resumed grooming his hair.

After a while, he stood up from his makeshift nest. With his bowl of crushed berries in hand, and the injured bird nestled on the crown of his head among his messy hair, Changbin made his way to a nearby wall. You just watched him curiously from where you were laying on his original nest.

Changbin dipped two of his fingers in the mixture of crushed berries, and then he just… drew a line on the wall.

Then another…

And another…

He was silent for the most part, but low noises would occasionally resonate from his chest when the little bird on his head chirped. It was almost like they were having a conversation.

And you figured they were. Mostly because every couple of lines he made, he’d huff, and the bird would chirp in response. Changbin simply nodded–carefully, as to not let the bird fall with the movement–and kept on drawing.

You weren’t sure how long you spent there, just looking at him doing his thing, but it was genuinely fascinating. The way his tail would sway every once in a while, the way the muscles on his back flexed and relaxed as he moved all sorts of ways as he painted on the walls…

Eventually, his lines took the very distinct shape of a bird, one that mirrored the one on his head almost perfectly.

“Changbin?” You asked after a while. He hummed to let you know he was listening, so you continued. “Did you make all the other drawings throughout the Labyrinth?”

It seemed like a silly question to ask, because, who else would’ve done it, if not the beast doing one just now in front of you?

Changbin added the finishing touches to his drawing, then he turned to look at you. He offered the remnants of crushed berries in his bowl to the bird, just as he brought the two fingers he’d been using to his mouth so he could lick them clean.

You tried not to focus too much on the action by fixing your eyes on his.

He pulled his digits out of his mouth with a slight sucking sound, and nodded. “I did”.

“Mmm… They’re pretty”, you said simply.

Because, to you, they were.

You found them odd when you first saw them, since they didn’t seem to fit the aura surrounding this place, but they were certainly pretty. And knowing they’d been made by him, just seemed to make them even prettier.

Changbin finally put the bowl down on one of the many tall–but flat–rocks scattered throughout the room, and, for a moment, you could’ve sworn his cheeks had reddened. “Thanks…”

You just offered him a smile, even if he wasn’t looking at you.

A cold wind filtered through the hole in the ceiling, it had your teeth chattering and your whole body shivering. You tried to cover yourself further, but the way Changbin had built his nest made it so you really couldn’t pull fabric from it without messing it up, and there was no spare cloth close by that you could use as a blanket.

It made sense, you supposed. He didn’t seem like he needed anything to keep himself warm, and you also hadn’t needed it before during your stay here, so you hadn’t even tried to ask for one.

You heard faint shuffling, followed by quiet thump, thump, thumps, until you felt warmth close to you.

“Tiny human”, Changbin mumbled, pulling your attention fully towards him.

You hummed to let him know you were listening, but you didn’t open your eyes, nor did you feel like wasting energy saying actual words. You needed to use every bit of it you could to try to keep yourself warm.

“You’re whimpering. Why?”

Had you been whimpering?

You hadn’t even realised you were. Maybe you’d fallen asleep without noticing…

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your trembling form, but it only brought a rush of cold air inside your body. “M’cold…”

There was silence for a moment. With half lidded eyes, you could’ve sworn you were seeing your breath coming out of your mouth in little white clouds. It didn’t make you feel any better. If anything, it agitated you a bit more, but you couldn’t even express it fully.

Changbin was quiet for a long while, but you could still feel him close. You appreciated it. It felt like moral support, at least.

Eventually, you heard–and felt–him shuffle closer to the nest. “Can I… Can I keep you warm?”

You immediately nodded. You didn’t care what he did, or how he did it. You just needed to be warm, and if he could give you that you’d honestly take it.

There was more shuffling, and then there was a minute dip in the nest. You yelped when you felt Changbin’s arm wrap around your waist and pull you into him from behind.

His hold was strong, firm, but also… gentle. He kept you close, with his chin resting on the top of your head and a hand pressed firmly against your stomach. He was so close, and so, so warm, you immediately felt yourself relaxing, moulding into his body, almost like… like you’d always been meant to.

Slowly, his warmth seeped into you, until you were no longer shivering. Tentatively, you placed a hand on top of the one he kept on your stomach. You could’ve sworn you felt him jump a bit behind you, but as soon as you started tracing his knuckles with your fingertips, he seemed to relax once again.

You weren’t really sure what compelled you to do it, you had just… felt like doing it. You spent a while just like that, feeling each knuckle of his fingers, feeling the prominent veins on the back of his hand. They were so big… especially compared to your own.

You’d never felt like a particularly small person, but next to him, you certainly looked tiny, you felt tiny. But only physically. Being honest, you’d never felt as equal to someone as you felt with Changbin.

“I think you’re pretty, too”, he mumbled all of a sudden, and for a moment, you felt your heart stop, only to resume its beating at record-breaking speeds. “Like my drawings, I mean…”

You turned in his hold, and immediately buried your face in his neck. Not only seeking the heat of his skin, but also trying to hide the flustered reaction on your face. He just held you closer, further enveloping you in his warmth.

“Thank you…” You mumbled against the skin of his neck, and he simply offered you a tiny sound of content in response.

In the safety of Changbin’s arms, blanketed in his body heat, you finally fell asleep.

You didn’t mind staying at Changbin’s den, but you were starting to get a bit… bored.

Mostly if he was gone. When he was there, you could at least strike conversation, or play some sort of game. Knucklebones was a favourite of yours, for example.

When he wasn’t here, all you did was try to keep yourself entertained with whatever items Changbin had lying around, or by tending to the garden inside the den.

At some point, you’d managed to use some of the numerous pieces of fabric he’d collected to make yourself a proper blanket. Although, to be fair, you hardly ever needed it.

It was a given at this point that he’d snuggle up next to you to keep you warm. Since that very first night, you’d only had to use your blanket when someone had entered the Labyrinth and he wasn’t here.

You’d admit, sleeping with Changbin was… nice. Especially since temperatures seemed to be decreasing by the day.

He was all plush and warm and his heartbeat just helped you relax. Ever since you got married–since you were forced to get married…–you had never enjoyed sharing your sleeping space, but, with Changbin, it was different. You just… felt safe. As odd as that might sound.

“It’s not fair! You got it so much easier to pick those up!” Changbin huffed, clicking his tongue when you, once again, beat him at your game of knucklebones.

“Find bigger pieces, then!” You chuckled, jiggling the small set of bones in your hand. “I’m sure there are plenty of huge rocks you can get in here”.

He just clicked his tongue again, finishing in a cute pout as he crossed his arms over his chest. All that did was bring your attention to the swell of his pecs and the size of his arms, which immediately made you swallow.

Dear Gods, was he big…

You scrambled to fix your eyes on his face. These were thoughts you didn’t feel like entertaining… what would be the point of it if you did? What would you even do with someone like Changbin? It felt a bit too… complicated. But, there was a little voice in the deepest areas of your conscience begging you to entertain the thought… telling you that it’d surely be worth it.

You decided to ignore it.

“Hey, Changbin”, you tried to get his attention back on you, disregarding the plethora of sinful scenarios that were playing in the back of your mind.

Changbin’s ears flickered before he was fixing his eyes on you again, so you took it as a sign to speak. “You think I could… go out for a walk?”

He uncrossed his arms so he could lean back on his hands, once again, making you absolutely struggle to keep your eyes on his face and not on whatever was going on between his legs. “You want to?”

You just nodded in response, nervously tapping on the floor one of the bones you held in your hand.

“Then you can”, he replied simply.

“I can?” You didn’t mean to sound incredulous, but you supposed his nonchalance did take you by surprise.

“‘Course. If you want to, you can”.

“You don’t mind?”

Changbin blinked slowly at you for a moment, before his eyebrows furrowed. “Why would I mind?”

“Dunno… I thought you… thought you might”.

“Why did you think that?”

Huh, good question… Why would you think that?

You supposed there was a part of you that had just kind of… assumed he’d mind. But you realised then that he’d never really said anything about it.

He’d only ever asked you to stay when someone else came into the Labyrinth, and you supposed it made sense he would if he cared for your safety. Which you were pretty sure he did, considering all he’d done for you so far… So you just offered him a smile and a slight shake of your head.

“Ah, it’s nothing…” You stood up from the floor and wiped your hands on your chiton. “‘Suppose I’ll be back in a bit…”

Changbin just hummed to acknowledge you, but didn’t say anything else, so you made your way to the entrance of the room.

When you finally reached it, you stopped. As you looked at the corridor outside of the circle-shaped area that made Changbin’s den, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach sink. No matter where you looked, left or right, the way was seemingly endless. Every direction looked almost the same–save for the few paintings on the walls and the different textures on the floor.

If you left for a walk, would you be able to find your way back? You honestly weren’t too sure, and, truly… you wanted to come back. You were sure there was no better place to be inside the Labyrinth other than here, with Changbin.

So you turned around, finding the beast himself looking at you.

His tail swayed calmly behind him, his ears occasionally flickered, but, for the most part, he looked serene, sitting there on the floor where he’d been just before you stood up yourself.

“Would you… uhm…” You pinched a piece of your chiton between your fingers, and started fidgeting with it, looking in his overall direction but not really looking at him. “Would you like to come with me?”

You finally looked at his face. There was a small smile on his lips, and it honestly made your heart flutter. “Y’know I’ll find you if you get lost, right?”

No.

No, you didn’t know that.

You didn’t know he’d go out of his way to find you if you disappeared. You knew that he cared about what happened to you to some degree, but enough to look for you if you got lost? Even if it could potentially take days?

If you thought about it, maybe that, too, made sense. Maybe he enjoyed your presence just as much as you did his.

Licking your lips, you let go of that bit of fabric you’d been rolling between your fingers. “Would you come with me anyway?”

With a huff, Changbin stood up from the ground. He wiped his hands on his thighs, just before he walked to stand next to you. That was a good enough answer for you.

So, you finally stepped out into the corridor, and Changbin followed soon after.

The farther you tried to look, the more anxiety seemed to pool in your stomach. If the Labyrinth had made you claustrophobic when you first stepped in it, right now, leaving Changbin’s den, you felt haunted with agoraphobia.

The corridors were endless, the ceiling felt like it was way too high–unlikely, since it was pretty much the same height as it was inside the den…–and the fact that you couldn’t see the first turn in either direction you looked had your head spinning. So you turned back to Changbin.

“Is there any place you like? If there is, I’d like you to show me”.

Changbin just nodded, and started walking. You followed him from closely behind, nervously looking over your shoulder sometimes, but, for the most part, you tried to focus on the drawings on the walls, or the flashes of nature around you.

It was quiet, save for the flicker of the eternal fire and the thumps produced with each step Changbin took. They weren’t as loud as they’d been the first time you heard him, probably because he was walking very, very slowly.

Even if he was walking slowly, though, you were starting to get out of breath from trying to keep up with the steps his long legs could take. One of Chanbin’s steps could’ve very well been ten of yours…

You weren’t sure how many turns you took, you simply followed him wherever he would go, asking for a few pauses sometimes when you felt like you needed to catch your breath.

There were parts of the Labyrinth that were dimmer than others. As Changbin explained to you, it was either because someone had taken a torch off its support on the wall and never returned it, or he himself had moved the torches somewhere else.

When you asked him why he’d moved them, he just said he’d get bored, and just found some entertainment in moving things around. Fair enough, you guessed…

Both of you finally came to a full stop in front of a tree. A big, very old-looking one. There was a patch of grass all around it, and it was almost tall enough to reach the ceiling. The hole above it surely provided enough light and water for the tree to thrive even down here.

“This is a place I like. Birds come in here sometimes. They keep me company”, Changbin plopped down at the base of the tree and leaned on it. While he looked at you, he patted the grass in front of him, right between his legs.

Your body reacted before your mind could, and, almost instinctively, you found yourself sitting on the grass and snuggled against his chest. He just wrapped his arms around your frame and kept you close, like he often did.

Soon enough, birds started coming in from the hole high above your heads, and you simply closed your eyes and started to hum a melody to accompany their chirping. You could certainly understand why he’d like being in a place like this, it was peaceful.

“You…” Changbin mumbled after a while, while he softly traced shapes on your arm with his thumb. “You used to pray, didn’t you?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, just before you pulled yourself away from his embrace to look him in the eyes. There was a bird perched on one of his horns already, picking at his hair, but he seemed unbothered by it.

“How’d you… How do you know that?” No one knew you prayed. In fact, you hadn’t prayed in a long, long time. It used to bring you comfort, maybe even hope, but that, too, had been crushed by the heavy weight of reality many moons ago.

Changbin looked up at the hole in the ceiling, which was covered by iron rods. His gaze was fixed on it for a while, and he remained quiet for a bit.

“I think I used to hear you pray”, his eyes were on yours again, and you suddenly felt your cheeks heating up at the attention. “You used to sing, too. Hum, like you did just now… The birds back then used to tell me you brought them food”.

The site you prayed at was incredibly far from where you’d been dropped into the Labyrinth. You knew this place was huge, but you honestly hadn’t realised just how much until this very moment.

“You stopped coming, though”, Changbin looked at you in a way that made you feel almost like he knew… “Was it because of him?”

Please! Don’t hurt me!

The memory was fresh, it wasn’t one you could just forget. Your husband… he wasn’t fond of the Gods, especially not the ones you prayed to. After all, you were praying in hopes they’d just… do something.

When law enforcement didn’t pay attention to you, you had turned to your faith for help.

But they, too, had failed you.

When your husband found out you’d been going to that specific place in the forest to pray, that you had your own humble shrine in there, he made absolutely sure you never returned. The place was now riddled with memories of nothing but pain, sorrow…

You felt a knot swell in your throat, out of fury more than anything else. You refused to let tears fall, though. The damage was done already, and even if you felt infuriated by how unjust everything that happened back then had been, the nightmare was over, and you had no one to thank but yourself for it.

Looking at Changbin, you nodded, just to let him know that it had been, in fact, because of him that you’d stopped going to pray to the forest currently above your heads.

“Even back then… I felt like it was unfair”, Changbin’s eyes jumped all over your face, while his thumb kept caressing the skin of your arm.

“It was”, you replied simply, looking up at him from where you were sitting between his legs. “But it’s no longer a problem. It’s stopped now”.

The bird that had been picking at Changbin’s hair finally flew away when he nodded. You looked him in the eyes for a while longer, until you finally leaned into him once again, and rested your head on his chest, right over his heart.

Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump…

The gentle rhythm vibrated against your ear, and, right then and there, you knew that it had all truly stopped. You were safe. It was, definitely, no longer a problem. In a way, you’d made sure of that…

You both stayed under that tree for a long time that afternoon, until you asked Changbin to show you anywhere else he liked before you made it back to the den.

Without saying a word, he effortlessly picked you up from the ground, and took you in his arms, making you all flustered when he offered you a ‘Tiny legs. Makes you slow…’ which you supposed you couldn’t argue with. To him, your legs were surely tiny, especially when compared to his own.

When you were back at Changbin’s den, you were tired, so you quickly washed up before you had dinner. Seared fish–courtesy of the eternal fire from one of the torches–with an assortment of fruits that somehow worked together, finished off with the corresponding pile of laurel leaves Changbin liked to chew on often–a habit which you yourself had picked up overtime.

It wasn’t long until you found yourself in Changbin’s nest, surrounded by soft fabric and his warmth. Cuddling had become one of your favourite winding down activities, and you certainly liked to do it for as long as you could. There was something about the closeness to someone else that felt… fulfilling. And you’d never truly felt this close to someone in your life.

Oftentimes, while cuddling, you also found yourself having the most profound conversations with Changbin. Either you or him–or both–would start bearing their hearts out for the other, and it was… nice.

Regardless of what you spoke about, it was nice.

“You…” Changbin mumbled, burying his fingers in your hair to gently caress your scalp. “Why’d they drop you here?”

You took a deep breath, mindlessly playing with the thick fur in the middle of his chest. “I took someone’s life…”

Changbin hummed, nuzzling your forehead with his nose. It was moist against your skin, but you didn’t mind.

“My husband…” You started, stilling the movement of your fingers in his fur to instead lay your hand on his chest. “I was just… I tried to get help. Every time he hurt me, I tried to get help. So, so many times… but no one listened. One night, he was trying to force himself on me and I just… took one of those hideous stone busts he kept around the house and I… hit him in the head”.

The memory wasn’t pleasant. You still remembered the first moment of shock, when you stared at his limp body on the floor. You remembered the blood, how it started to pool and stain that equally hideous rug he’d purchased for way too much money. You remembered the mess left behind when you tried to move your husband’s body out of the house so you could hide it in the forest…

But you were caught.

You were caught and no matter how much you explained what had happened, no one believed you.

“So I was sentenced to die”, you looked away from his chest to look him in the eyes. They seemed to be sparkling under the moonlight shining on you both. His eyes… They were gentle, and had the prettiest shade of brown you’d ever seen. “I should be dead by now. They were expecting you to kill me”.

Changbin’s eyes flickered between yours. They danced around your face for a moment, until they settled on your mouth. “I couldn’t. Don’t want to, either”.

“I know”, you mumbled simply. Bringing a hand to his face, you started tracing his features, his eyebrows, his nose, his cheeks… Changbin just closed his eyes as soon as your fingertips were on his skin, and his ears flickered happily as you did. “You’re way more than the beast people make you out to be”.

“You think so?” He asked it in a way that made it seem like he genuinely cared about what you had to say, like your opinion was valuable to him.

You hummed in confirmation, nodding slowly, because you truly meant it. Changbin was a bit of a brute, he was very capable of harming you, but he was also capable of being so incredibly gentle. Like he’d been with the injured bird he’d brought to his den many months ago. Like he’d been with you when he tended to your wounds when he brought you in here, or when you were shivering from the cold…

“Changbin…” You broke the silence after a while, placing your hand on his cheek and stroking the skin with your thumb. “Do you know what a kiss is?”

Changbin opened his eyes then, offering you an almost shy nod of his head.

“Have you kissed anyone before?” You placed your free hand on his chest, right over his heart. It was beating so incredibly fast… It was almost like you could feel every thump penetrate into your palm and rattle your insides.

Changbin shook his head, fixing his eyes on your mouth once again.

You licked your lips, almost absentmindedly. He was so close, and so warm, and you just… wanted him. “Would you like to?”

Changbin nodded again, so you just went for it.

Slowly, you leaned in, brushing your lips softly against his for a moment before you connected them fully. It was almost shy, just a tender peck on his lips, but it was a kiss nonetheless.

You pulled back a bit to look him in the eyes. Sparkly… Even more so than before. In an instant, his hand was at your waist, pulling you closer against his body as he leaned in to kiss you again.

It was slow, gentle, and it made your heart flutter. His lips slotted so perfectly with yours, you couldn’t even believe you’d ever kissed anyone else. So many kisses wasted, when you could’ve been giving them to him instead…

Tentatively, your tongue made contact with his bottom lip. He seemed to get the hint, since he parted his lips to let you in. With your arms around his neck, you kissed him deeply. He kissed you deeply.

At this very moment, there was nothing else in the world that wasn’t you and Changbin. The only thing that mattered was him and you in his nest, slowly getting your mouths acquainted with one another.

You didn’t know how long you spent right there, but you also didn’t care. By the time the moon had moved around in the sky and left you in partial darkness in Changbin’s den, you could already feel him poking your stomach.

The feeling of him, hard against your belly, set your insides alight.

You’d known for a long time, you’d been trying to ignore it, but you couldn’t do that any longer… You really wanted Changbin. Carnally. Like you’d want any other person.

His hands… His big, warm hands roamed your back, your rear, your thighs… It was like he wanted to make sure no part of your body was left untouched–at least the ones he currently had access to over your clothes. The kiss was turning sloppier and sloppier by the second, and, in no time, low bellows were resonating from Changbin’s chest.

It was just when you carded your fingers through his hair that he stiffened, fixing his hands on your waist and gripping you tightly to stop the grind of your hips you hadn’t even realised you’d started doing.

When had he laid on his back? When had you straddled his waist? You were so lost in your kiss you hadn’t even noticed…

He pulled back fully, offering you an apologetic look while he brought his thumb to your bottom lip and swiped it over the swollen skin.

“Someone’s entered the Labyrinth…” Changbin mumbled, so quietly you wouldn’t have heard him if you hadn’t been so close.

You pouted sadly, but nodded in understanding. With one final peck on his lips, you finally rolled off of him and onto the plush nest, where you curled into yourself as you watched him get up.

Changbin bent down to kiss your forehead. He brushed his textured nose tenderly against yours for a moment, just before he threw your makeshift blanket over your body.

“I’ll be back in a few days. Hm?”

You simply nodded again, feeling your eyes growing heavier as sleep started to cling to your muscles.

After one final smile, Changbin finally turned around and made his way out of his den.

You couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him before he left, and, Gods… You really, really wanted him…

As you let your hand find its way between your legs, and even in your sleepy state, you couldn’t help but fully come face to face with the realisation that you wanted him, more than you’d ever wanted anyone else before.

With the tingles of pleasure you were coaxing from your centre that spread to all of your limbs, your mind wandered, trying to figure out just how you could… take him.

You had to find a way. You were determined to find a way.

You didn’t know how you’d do it, but you were certain you would.

Eventually, you would.

Changbin was taking longer than usual to come back from his last outing, and it was starting to worry you.

The first couple of days went by as usual. You washed any garments of clothing you’d collected over time, you tended to any of Changbin’s friends–meaning, the birds that would come from the surface–whenever they dropped by, or you simply spent it brainstorming all the possible ways in which you could pleasure such a monstrous cock.

Not only that, but how you could get pleasure from that monstrous cock. Because you were set on making the most of it. Gone were the days in which you shied away from your desires. You were a living being with needs, and if you couldn’t fulfil those needs with a literal giant half-bull, half-man creature, you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to do it with anyone else.

Besides, though, you didn’t want anyone else.

And it wasn’t the fact that you were living in the Labyrinth and couldn’t even meet other human beings. What you felt for Changbin was something you’d never felt before. You genuinely cared about him… You cared a lot.

Which was why, by the fifth day he hadn’t returned to the den, you had bitten all ten of your nails almost to the flesh.

Where was he?

You were convinced it was pretty much impossible for him to get lost inside the Labyrinth, but what if he had?

Or worse…

What if whoever had been dropped in here hurt him?

What if he was hurt and you couldn’t help him?

Oh, Gods…

What if he was dead?

Your chest felt heavy, you could barely breathe… What would you do without Changbin? You could definitely survive with all the resources you had here, but the question was… did you want to?

What was the point of staying alive inside the Labyrinth without him?

You wanted to cry just thinking about it.

Tears were pricking your eyes, and it felt like your throat was closing up.

At least, until…

Thump…

You pretty much jumped from where you’d been sitting on the floor, sprinted out of the den and into the corridor. At this point, you could recognise Changbin’s heavy steps like your own heartbeat.

Looking left and right, you were unsure where exactly he was coming from, since the echo seemed to be coming from every direction. After a few moments of panic, you finally saw him to your left, so you ran.

You barely heard him saying your name when you were close, you were too focused on getting to him. When you buried your face in his stomach, he immediately started to caress your hair.

“Shh, hey…” He mumbled, dropping whatever he had in his free hand so he could press his palm on your back. “Don’t cry”.

You were sobbing, and you hadn’t even realised it until he had pointed it out.

When you pulled away, you could barely see him through your blurry vision. With one of his knuckles, he gently wiped the tears running down your cheeks.

It was only then that you noticed them, the cuts and gashes that littered his whole torso. The sight had adrenaline rushing into your body immediately.

“Oh, my dear Gods! What happened to you?!”

“Kid was resilient”, was all he said when he pulled himself away from your hold. He bent down–with seemingly great effort–and took the bag that he’d dropped on the ground. “C’mon, need to… to lay down. Will tell you everything after…”

You took the bag from him immediately, and wrapped your free hand around one of his fingers to gently tug him forward–as if that would do anything…

It took several minutes for both of you to reach the den once again. As soon as you were inside, Changbin pretty much collapsed on the ground, and started instructing you to bring him all sorts of herbs from his garden along with some fresh water.

You got to work, following Changbin’s directions to clean him up, apply the freshly chewed mix of leaves on the open wounds, and dress them with whichever extra pieces of fabric you could find laying around. As you did this, he told you about the young man that had entered the Labyrinth.

Apparently, he was skilled enough to not only hurt Changbin, but also to essentially defeat him.

“All these years, no one has ever come this close to killing me…”

The concept of Changbin being killed made your heart ache, but you pushed the feeling away as you tried to focus on the task at hand, as well as to continue listening to him.

The young man had spared him. He’d told Changbin that he’d come into the Labyrinth out of his own free will because he was looking for something.

“Told him I’d help him find it if he let me live”, Changbin said once you’d finished dressing his wounds and he’d finally laid down on your nest.

“And? Did you?” You asked as you gathered two heavy jugs of fresh water to bring them to him. After all, two jugs were pretty much two glasses of water for him…

Changbin drank both jugs one after the other, each one in one gulp, offering a quiet ‘Thank you’ before he answered your question. “Yeah. Pointed him in the right direction, told him how to find the way to the spot he was looking for…”

You laid down next to him, and snuggled yourself as close as you could. Changbin pulled you even closer, and only then did he seem to fully relax, practically melting into your nest.

“He wanted me to go with him… But I was too hurt”, he mumbled against your hair, sounding just so incredibly tired. “Also… I had to come home. Needed to be here with you…”

You felt tears well in your eyes again. Holding him tight–being careful to not apply too much pressure on his wounds–you craned your neck, just so you could press a lingering kiss on his cheek.

Changbin exhaled a shaky breath with the motion, and, after pressing a few more pecks on his skin, you finally laid your head on his chest.

“Welcome home…” The words came out of your mouth as barely a whisper, mostly because you didn’t trust your voice right now. You were already feeling your whole body trembling as the tears started to fall again.

Changbin held you tight, pressing a final kiss on the crown of your head.

“Missed you, tiny human…” was the last thing to come out of his mouth before he passed out.

Caring for an injured giant was easier than you had expected it to be. Although, you’d admit that helping him wash up was a bit hard.

Not because you had to provide any sort of support when he got into a pond or anything like that, but mostly because Changbin insisted that he needed you in there with him.

He got extra whiny about it, but you didn’t let him coax you into it. Not because you didn’t want to, but because, if you did get naked with him in the water, you knew you’d get distracted and his wounds could suffer the consequences.

After a few days, he seemed to have regained most of his strength, and the cuts scattered over his body were healing nicely. Even then, he kept insisting he needed you to help him.

“If you want to see me naked, just say so”, you couldn’t hold that back any longer. The words just flew past your lips, and you knew they’d had the desired effect as soon as you saw the pink tint on his cheeks.

“I don’t–I mean, I do, but it’s not–” He was tumbling over his words, and it was absolutely adorable.

You stood up from where you’d been sitting cross-legged by the edge of the pond, and started toying with the belt of your chiton. He went quiet immediately, and his eyes zeroed in on the way you played with the fabric between your fingertips.

“Do you want to see me naked, Changbin?”

He blinked slowly for a moment, and his ears flickered cutely. “Maybe…”

“Maybe?” You untied the knot, and the garment immediately loosened.

You saw him swallow. His gaze remained fixed on your belt, like he was trying to somehow make it disappear completely.

“Changbin?” You called him again, and his eyes snapped back up to meet yours, giving you his undivided attention. “Do you want to?”

Changbin stared at you for a moment before he nodded. That tiny movement, coupled with the light blush on his cheeks made you feel… empowered. Which was something you had never really felt before in this context.

You’d heard other people tell you about it, you’d read about it in the romance novels you used to read, but you had never truly experienced it. That feeling, coupled with how pliant a literal giant like Changbin got when you so much hinted at being naked, filled you with confidence.

So you removed your clothes, and slowly, you went into the pond.

Changbin was sitting on the ground, which made it so you were almost at eye level with him. You could practically feel his eyes all over your body, leaving an almost searing sensation on your skin.

When you finally stood in front of him, his hands found your waist. Changbin pulled you closer, so your bodies could be flush to each other. With your arms around his neck, you leaned in for a kiss.

He held you tightly, but gently. You knew he was well aware of his strength, and you knew he liked to be careful so as to not hurt you, which you certainly appreciated.

When you pulled back from the kiss, Changbin brushed your nose against yours, making you giggle. As usual, it was moist, but you didn’t mind.

“You’re pretty”, he whispered the words against your shoulder, where he was pressing lingering kisses on your skin–being extra careful not to poke you with his horns.

“And you’re very handsome”, you replied simply, because it was the truth. Months ago, you hadn’t even known someone like him could exist, and here you were now, absolutely smitten by what most would consider an oddity.

“You think so?” He mumbled absentmindedly, dragging his hands all over your back. His large hands…

“Mm… I do think so”.

He pulled away so he could look at you. A smile had spread across his face, making his eyes turn into little crescents. It always made your heart flutter whenever he smiled, and it was certainly a contagious gesture.

Changbin kissed your cheek once, twice, thrice more, before he was speaking again.

“Y’know… I haven’t… I’ve never…” He sighed, frowning before he shook his head and started all over again. “Want to make you feel good, but I don’t know how”.

Your eyes widened a bit. Not because you didn’t know that he wouldn’t know how to make you feel good, but because he seemed to genuinely care about it.

“I can show you”, you caressed his shoulders briefly before you cupped his cheeks. “Then you can show me how to make you feel good, hm?”

Changbin nodded, rather enthusiastically, and it made you smile.

“There are… many places you can touch to make me feel good”, you dragged your hands down his arms, until you reached his hands and pulled them away from your back. “For example, here…”

You brought his hands to your chest, and he reflexively squeezed the flesh. “That feels nice, but… touch here”.

Taking a hold of one of his fingers, you guided it to your nipple. The rough pad of his fingertip dragging over the sensitive skin immediately had a shiver running up and down your spine.

He seemed to catch on very quickly, because the moment you let go of his hands, he immediately started to stimulate your chest. Between his motions and the cool water around you, your nipples stiffened further, and the first whimper came out of your mouth.

Changbin looked at you for a moment, like he was unsure if he had done something wrong, so you immediately reassured him.

“That’s good… Feels good”.

“Feels good?” He asked, adding a bit more pressure.

You nodded in confirmation, and then took a hold of his wrists. “Pinch them harder between your fingers”.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, though”, he sounded genuinely worried about it, which would’ve made you heart melt in other circumstances, but in these circumstances, you needed him to give you all he had–or, at least, all you could stand.

“Do it gradually, I’ll let you know ‘til when. Trust me?”

Changbin nodded, and immediately obliged. As soon as he reached the pressure that was just perfect, you let him know–in quite possibly the most desperate tone you’d ever mustered.

Your lips were on his thereafter. He tugged and pulled and stimulated your nipples in ways that had you moaning into his mouth, that seemed to be coaxing inhuman noises from deep within him.

Your centre was throbbing, desperate for some attention, so you pulled away from the kiss. You were met with Changbin’s blown pupils and flushed cheeks, a sight so incredibly delectable you started to seriously entertain the impossible. Would he fit…?

“Here, too”, you took a hold of one of his hands and brought it between your thighs, giving him enough space to manoeuvre. “You feel that bump?”

When the pad of his finger made contact with your clit you almost jolted in place, but you tried to stay focused as best as you could.

“Rub in circles. Gently”.

He complied, following the same motions as before, increasing the speed and pressure until you told him exactly how you liked it to be.

It all became a blur of moans and pants and bellows… All you could feel was the pleasure coursing through your body and Changbin’s warmth all around you. His teeth, his tongue, his lips, his fingers… He was working you up diligently, bringing you closer to the edge.

“So good…” You whimpered against his lips, just before your tongues were intertwined again.

Changbin nodded, almost mindlessly.

When you’d finally reached your climax, you did so with his name on your tongue. Repeating it over and over again like it was the only word you knew in this world.

You’d found pleasure on your own many, many times, but it’d never felt like this. You weren’t sure if it was the weight of your feelings for him, or if it’d been the thrill of having this experience with Changbin for the first time, but the way that orgasm seemed to be consuming every single one of your senses was absolutely mind-blowing.

He didn’t stop working you up until you asked him to. As soon as he did, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned your weight on him for support. Changbin held you tightly, lovingly caressing your back and pressing kisses on your shoulder as you caught your breath.

“Prettiest sounds I’ve ever heard…” He mumbled against your skin, and it made you laugh.

You felt light, like tonnes had just been lifted off of your shoulders. When you pulled away, you cupped his cheeks, and started peppering kisses all over his face, which made him giggle. So adorably you felt your heart swell in your chest.

“Now…” With one final kiss on his lips, you placed your hands on his chest, squishing the soft muscle. “You show me”.

A smirk made its way onto his lips, and after taking one of your hands, he moved it away from his chest to let it sink further underwater, until it met the warm, smooth skin of his length. He left your other hand on his chest, but instead of just letting it rest there, he guided your fingers to one of his nipples so you could gently rub your fingertip against it and play with the jewellery.

“I’ll show you”, he emphasised his words by using his hand to coax your hold around his cock to tighten. Your fingers didn’t even meet as you held him, and the thought, along with the feel, made you feel dizzy with arousal. “Will show you anything. Everything…”

‘You think this could… fit you?’ Changbin had shyly asked you a couple of weeks ago, when he offered you one of the silver hoops he usually wore on one of his horns. Where he got the idea to do that was beyond you, but it honestly didn’t matter, it made you giddy all the same.

It did fit–as an armlet, at least. It was purely material and maybe even a bit vain, but having this item on you at all times simply made you feel tingly. It made your heart swell in your chest and it had butterflies fluttering in your belly.

It felt significant, in a way. Kind of like… like your own version of a wedding band.

In the past, you had never been excited about being a bride, or about being someone’s wife. But you realised things could change.

Changbin had certainly changed you. You would’ve never imagined that your death sentence would be the thing to actually help you feel alive, and yet, that was exactly what had happened to you.

Did you sometimes have bouts of fury and rage because of how unfair everything that you’d gone through had been?

Yes.

Did you want all those officials to die a very painful death for judging you the way they did?

Also yes.

But at least, here, you found your place. You found love.

Because you loved Changbin. Horns and tail and hooves and all. Even with his annoyingly big cock that you knew you’d never be able to fit inside you without tearing you in half, even then, you loved him. Truly.

It took only a visit from that young man he had encountered months ago for you to fully realise it.

He’d appeared out of nowhere, on a random day. Changbin had put himself between you and the young man, but the boy wasn’t a real threat, he’d come just to ask for help to find something else within the Labyrinth.

It was over supper that he’d talked to you, right there in front of Changbin.

‘Don’t you want to go back to the surface? I know a way out…’

You could still remember how Changbin’s tail started to thrash anxiously behind him, but he didn’t say anything. He’d just fixed his eyes on the floor, slowly chewing his food. He didn’t interrupt or even attempt to divert the conversation. Back then, at least to you, it felt like he was getting ready to accept whichever decision you took.

‘Why would I go back? This is my home. There’s nothing up there for me’.

And when you’d said it, you truly meant it.

This was your home… but it wasn’t the Labyrinth.

It was all Changbin.

You’d wandered the Labyrinth together for a few days after that, helping that young man look for the mysterious artefact he needed. It’d been an adventure for sure…

When you were back in your cosy den after that little adventure, Changbin had given you the thick hoop, your armlet. You’d gotten so used to wearing it, you sometimes forgot you had it on.

At least, until you caught a glimpse of it in your peripheral vision, like you did just now. Somehow, the reminder of its existence further fed the fire that was burning bright in the pit of your stomach.

The feel of Changbin’s hands on your hips, gripping you tightly–as tight as he knew your body could handle–made you moan. The feel of him, hard and warm against your folds had your mind all fogged up and hazy, especially when he was under you like this, guiding the movement of your hips to increase the pressure of your centre grinding against his bare length, trapping it between your core and his abdomen.

“Mmm… fuck…” He whined under his breath, staring at the place your bodies connected, at the way your slick cunt dragged against his cock.

You nodded in agreement, rather eagerly, because you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Not when the way you were essentially humping him felt this incredibly good.

With your hands on his chest, both for support and so you could play with his nipples in just the way he loved so much, you chased that sweet, sweet relief that’d been steadily growing closer to you since you sat on him however long ago. The pressure on your clit was just absolutely perfect like this, especially when he was pushing you down and assisting your own movement.

“Changbin, darling, I’m… fuck, want to…” You could barely speak, but you knew he understood you perfectly, because he had you moving faster, he pushed you down harder, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Before you knew it, you were trembling with your release. The only thing keeping you from collapsing was Changbin’s tight hold, but you still tried your best to keep moving, to keep providing him with as much pleasure as you could.

With a broken plea of your name, the first of many shots of thick cum spouted from the tip of his cock. The results of his orgasm’s were, of course, proportional to his size. He always seemed to produce bucket-loads of cum whenever he came, drenching his whole torso, and you in the process.

Changbin looked so, so pretty like this. Flushed, whining, bellowing, desperately rutting into you to make the most out of his release. You didn’t care that you were close to the point of oversensitivity, you just wanted to continue seeing him like this for as long as it lasted.

When the final spurt of cum landed on his abdomen, the tight grip he had on your hips loosened. The lack of his support made it so that you simply collapsed on top of him, gasping for air.

Oh, how fulfilling it was to hear his increased heartbeat against your ear, to feel his warm cum sticking to you…

You both laid there for a moment, just enjoying the feel of one another and catching your breaths.

Changbin had to act a bit quickly after coming, though. Otherwise his cock would retreat into its sheath covered in his drying cum, which could not only become a gross mess, but also cause him real, painful problems the next time he got hard.

So as soon as he regained his strength, he was moving, carrying you in his arms and getting you both inside the nearest pond to get cleaned up.

You always helped him, of course. Just like he helped you.

Getting to bathe each other felt intimate, like a bonding experience, so you enjoyed it.

You barely spoke to each other during these moments. You just took the time to further enjoy the other’s body in a more profound way.

It wasn’t until you were out of that pond, dry, in a fresh set of clothes, and huddled together in your cosy nest that he was finally speaking again.

“I really like it when we do it like that…” He mumbled against your hair, softly dragging his fingertips on your back.

You chuckled softly, pressing a soft peck on his collarbone. “Is it better than when you fuck my thighs?”

Changbin inhaled sharply, placing his free hand on your bum. “It’s different. It’s easier to come together this way”.

You hummed, smiling in amusement at the comment.

There was silence for a while, but you knew he was awake. If he hadn’t been, the soft caresses on your back would’ve stopped already.

The armlet shone in your peripheral vision, and you were reminded once again that this was your home. That you belonged here.

“Changbin?”

He hummed to let you know he was listening, not stopping the movement of his hands.

“Why didn’t you kill me when you found me wandering the Labyrinth?”

Changbin was quiet for a while, until he nuzzled your hair before he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“I recognised your voice”, he replied simply. “You fed my friends. You didn’t have to, but you did it anyway. They always appreciated it, and I couldn’t help but appreciate it, too”.

You pulled yourself away from his hold a bit, enough to look him in the eyes. “Can you imagine if I’d never spoken in the forest? Or if I never fed the birds? You would’ve eaten me”.

He frowned. “Don’t wanna think about that. Besides, you did do it. Why think about the past like that?”

You smiled at him, just before you pressed a quick peck on his lips.

As you buried your face further in the crook of his neck, and started to feel the pull of sleep on your body, you figured Changbin was right.

There was no point in thinking about the past. No point in dwelling on the what-ifs. The only thing that mattered was the present, and the future you hoped to have with him here, in your home.

Author’s Note x2: i came into this expecting this story to be nothing but filth and a horny mess, not... whatever this ended up being. it definitely didn’t go the way i thought it was going to go when i had originally read that ask, but, y’know… the little lizard in my brain just does whatever it wants. i’m happy with it, and, if you made it this far, i hope you enjoyed it, too. especial thanks to @notastraykid and @channieskies for reading this before anyone else and for giving me their valuable opinions and suggestions.

tagging:

@comet-falls · @princelingperfect · @iadorethemskz · @kileidoscope · @maknae00 @dundullresident · @vitrealisbunny · @yeetfellx · @minnysproutgriffinteddy · @oiminho · @binchangf · @luxsonny · @mamieishere · @straylightdream · @bintificreads · @seo--changbin · @abcdefgiwsmcty · @ppiri-bahng · @letsbangchanblog · @fun-fanfics · @armystay89 · @iightsung · @noellllslut · @100layersofdaddyissues · @toplinehyunjin · @biribarabiribbaem · @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad · @stayconnecteed · @floatingcoffecup · @5starlee · @ven-fic-recs · @poutypoutybin · @straydhampir · @svintsandghosts

If you want to be removed (or if i tagged you incorrectly) from the list just PM me. If you want to be added fill in this form. you must have an indication that you’re an adult in your blog if you want me to tag you in my works

Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :) feel free to leave your comments in the caption/tags when you reblog, or by sending me an ask !

General Masterlist

#neverendingdreams #stray kids mythical au #stray kids fantasy au #changbin fluff #changbin smut #changbin angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction #changbin fanfiction #changbin fic #changbin x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #minotaur changbin #✨🌙✏

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quoththemaiden · 8 months ago

Text

@mrghostrat This is now the third time since December that I'm writing about your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems (1, 2). Please come collect them, because they're causing a disturbance.

Or, if you aren't able to wrangle them, then please enjoy this scene inspired by Chapter 10 of Big Name Feelings.

For everyone who hasn't already seen the top portion of this on Discord, know that this is set sometime after the con but before the big bang.

—

"I think your hair might be getting long enough to braid now."

Crowley's eyes snapped over to him. "Braid?"

Aziraphale blinked at the sharp question. "I didn't mean anything by it." He'd still never figured out quite where Crowley's gender identity lay, or if it changed day-by-day. He suspected Crowley's public presentation of his gender was either "whatever's simplest for everyone involved" (around people he didn't know but generally liked, like at the con) or "whatever causes the most problems for everyone involved" (like with a particularly annoying security guard that had left Aziraphale remembering that being middle-aged, white, and extremely stuffy in appearance was its own form of armor). Aziraphale's own perception of Crowley's gender was just "Crowley." What Crowley felt about it was something Aziraphale had never quite managed to parse out. "You can do whatever you like—"

"Do you know how?"

"How...?"

"To braid hair." Crowley's tone was oddly urgent. "Like for your nieces or cousins or—"

"—for crafting, yes. Tassels for bookmarks and such. You want me to—" Crowley practically flinging himself down onto the sofa next to him was answer enough. "Oh."

Crowley's hair really was barely long enough to braid, Aziraphale decided as he gently freed it from its elastic band. He ran his fingers through it slowly and carefully, easing out the light tangles from a day's confinement. Crowley slumped forward in boneless contentment, and Aziraphale had to switch to prickling the top of his scalp with his fingernails to get him to sit up straight enough for Aziraphale to work.

Aziraphale determined his gameplan, then, and gently eased up a few locks of hair at the crown of Crowley's head, smoothing down the top with the flat of his palm. He started working the strands into a French braid, taking it tiny piece by tiny piece to ensure every section was balanced in size. If Crowley were doing it himself, he suspected he'd get it done in just five messy joins, but every strand he brought in gave Aziraphale another excuse to run his fingertips along Crowley's scalp and he luxuriated in each opportunity. "Has anyone ever told you your hair is unreasonably thick?" he murmured, his voice huskier with fond affection than he'd intended. Crowley spared him from a tease by being too utterly sedated to manage more than a vague hum in response. Aziraphale smiled at that and kept his progress blissfully slow and methodical until he had no choice but to tie the braid off at the nape of Crowley's neck — half a French braid, half a ponytail made bushy from having had waves worked into it. He placed a soft kiss to the back of Crowley's head, padded by the thickest part of Crowley's braid and somehow all the more intimate for it. "All done, love."

Crowley leaned back against Aziraphale's chest, tilting back his head to look up at him with eyes made impossibly soft with contentment. "I'm never putting my own hair up again. Just hope you know that."

Aziraphale chuckled softly, just as fond. "I'll manage somehow, I suppose."

—

Crowley's boneless appreciation of the hair braiding had turned into boneless napping, and while Aziraphale enjoyed having Crowley fall asleep against him at certain times of day, he had never been one for naps himself and there was a limit to how long he could stay motionless sans entertainment before even he got antsy. He eased his way out from under Crowley, grateful the other man was a heavy sleeper even during the day, and was left deciding what quiet amusement he could pursue until whenever Crowley woke up and started making noises about dinner. He could always read some fanfics, of course, but his eyes couldn't help but be drawn towards his favorite muse.

His muse who had, he recalled, tempted him into joining a rigged bang and had talked him into getting a digital tablet. Aziraphale still planned to do his official art for it traditionally, because he was sure Crowley's writing would deserve no less... and, if he was allowed to be vain in the privacy of his own mind, because he still remembered the feeling he'd had when Crowley responded to his scans with barely coherent keysmashing. He wasn't in deferential awe of Crowley anymore, although he still loved his writing just as much, but part of him still hoped that Crowley might respond with just as much enthusiasm at getting to see the finished piece in person, textured paper and unprocessed colors and all. Well, assuming he could be gutsy enough to actually give it to him in person instead of just leaving it on the drafting table for him to find, which was really the more statistically likely result. But anyway.

But anyway.

His muse was sleeping in front of him, and a stylus on an iPad would make hardly any noise at all. And if he got good enough at using it, maybe he could draw some extra digital art to celebrate the fic as well.

In any case, sketching Crowley while he slept was one of life's little joys. He didn't think Crowley knew how often he did it, and that was probably for the best. If he did it all in his notebook, it would have been too easy for Crowley to flip through and find the sketches (and removing sheets would have felt damnably like a guilty conscience). With his iPad, however, he was safe to sketch as much as he liked and there was no real way for Crowley to stumble across it. Aziraphale willfully shoved aside the thought that that didn't really sound any less guilty and started setting stylus to screen. It wasn't long until he'd settled into a comfortable rhythm, his eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and where Crowley was lying face-down on the sofa, his new braid highlighted in a beam of afternoon sunlight.

Something Aziraphale did appreciate about digital art was that white could be layered on top of other colors and be shockingly vibrant, which wasn't an effect he could get easily with his beloved watercolors. Something else watercolors didn't give him was the ability to pick out very fine details, and as his sketch started coming together, he found that was exactly what he wanted to do now. While Crowley's hair was a vibrant red in his selfies or on stage, when he'd had the opportunity to run his fingers through every strand, he'd found that Crowley's hair was showing his age just as much as his own was.

The first day Aziraphale had found a grey hair had come as a shock. He'd naively assumed that with his hair being as pale as it was, even if it started greying, he might well never know. Instead, he found that the grey hairs' texture was frustratingly different from the strands that were still blond, and until they reached a critical mass fifteen long years later, they had an unfortunate tendency to stick out unattractively if his cut was anything less than perfect. He had become quite a regular at his barber's.

With Crowley's hair being as long as it was, his grey hairs had worked smoothly into his braid. From even the small distance from couch to armchair, they melded into the red strands perfectly... but Aziraphale had just spent long minutes twining them into neat twists and didn't need to see them now to know they were there. Aziraphale zoomed in close (another marked benefit of the digital display) and set his pen to a thin, sharp line, layering sleek silver strands into the red braid he'd drawn. Following the way they weaved around each other and dipped in and out of view felt delightfully meditative.

Eventually, Crowley made a soft snuffling snort-groan as he roused from his nap, slowly turning to unbury his face from the pillows. "Wha' time'zit?" he mumbled, patting around blindly for his cellphone.

"Coming up on 5:30 now," Aziraphale replied softly, trying not to startle him into full wakefulness too quickly. He rose and fetched Crowley's phone, placing it gently into his fumbling hand. "There you go."

"Mmrrr. Don't need it now." Crowley tucked the phone under his side in what Aziraphale would have guessed would be a very uncomfortable fashion but which Crowley did without even thinking. At least it wouldn't be going anywhere from there, Aziraphale supposed. "What're you doin'?" Crowley made grabby hands at the iPad Aziraphale had brought over with him.

Aziraphale handed over the iPad without even one thought, much less a second. "Oh, I was just waiting for you to wake up, really."

"...Angel." Crowley had zoomed out on the picture (with a completely unsurprising lack of propriety) and was now staring, frozen and much more awake, at the drawing of himself. "You aren't going to post this on Tumblr, are you?"

Aziraphale laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of that, despite the ripple of shock Crowley's tense tone had caused him. "Come, now. When have I ever posted a drawing of you, my dear?"

"When have you ever made a drawing of me?" Crowley retorted. He waved vaguely at the screen, accidentally sparing Aziraphale from having to answer. "I don't mind being old, but I don't want the world knowing my boyfriend thinks I'm old." His frazzled waving turned a little more flaily.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale gently took the tablet back from him and set it down on the floor so he could take Crowley's hand in both of his. "I assure you, I'm not the kind of artist who spends my time drawing things I don't think are beautiful. And that includes every detail I put in."

Aziraphale would have hoped that was obvious, really. The strands of hair he had drawn weren't brittle grey; they were molten silver. They caught the light like a precious metal woven like a ribbon into cinnabar-red hair. Crowley could have been a queen, fallen asleep after a long day in her finery. He could have been a fae whose very essence was beauty, sleeping with no fear that it would be stolen away because it couldn't.

He could have been an ordinary man, who was so deeply, truly loved that even his grey hairs seemed to shine like the soft gleam of a newly-forged star when they caught the last strong beams of afternoon sunlight shining in through the windows.

Aziraphale hoped Crowley could see it, too.

Crowley made a grumpy noise. "I still don't want it on Tumblr. — Not that I can tell you what to do with your art, but—"

Aziraphale interrupted him with a warm smile. "I don't want it on Tumblr, either. I drew this just for me."

"...really? Even though...?"

"Just for me," Aziraphale whispered in confirmation, his eyes seeking out Crowley's and saving him from having to finish that sentence. "I've only ever drawn you for me." I love you to the point of creation, his heart sang. It wasn't quite how that quote went, he knew. It was the only way it had ever gone, for him.

"Hn..." Crowley shifted to look at the iPad where it lay down on the floor. "I suppose... Well. Despite the subject matter, you drew it well, at least."

"Well, thank you for that," Aziraphale jibed back lightly, completely devoid of malice.

"Ngh, you can't blame me for feeling self-conscious about my greys when you haven't got any."

Aziraphale let out a huff of a laugh. "Oh, Crowley."

"What?" Crowley looked defensive, then abruptly switched to looking shrewd. "Wait. Do you dye them??" He leaned forward eagerly, like this was taboo knowledge.

"Oh, where was that compliment two decades ago? No, not at all. Do you know how long I spent getting over feeling self-conscious about them, and now for you to not even realize I have them?"

"No way. You've been holding out on me!" Crowley's eyes had a light in them that Aziraphale had seen sometimes — the look of someone who has been wanting something very much and thinks he's just figured out how to get it. Aziraphale drew back instinctively in trepidation. He had no idea what Crowley could possibly be wanting, though a fluttering feeling in his chest suggested that it was, in some way, him.

Ridiculous. As if they hadn't had sex already.

"I'm going to go get dinner started."

Crowley let out a whine that cut off abruptly enough that Aziraphale suspected he actually hadn't intended to make it.

Aziraphale paused. "What?"

"Ehhh... just envious, s'all."

Aziraphale took a moment to muse about whether Crowley knew the difference between "envious" and "jealous" and decided, firmly, that he had faith that he did. "Of what?" he asked with an incredulous laugh, since he still had no idea what "envious" could possibly apply to here.

"Negghhh, you've gotten to play with my hair enough to know I have greys, and I haven't gotten to touch yours once."

Aziraphale blushed darkly at that, remembering some choice occasions in which Crowley had gripped his hair tightly enough to hurt. He cleared his throat and opted not to mention them. "That feels much more like your fault than mine."

"Just... tryin'a respect your boundaries, angel."

"Why would that be a boundary?" Aziraphale asked, baffled.

"I asked for it and you haven't."

Aziraphale didn't quite remember it that way, but it was a fair enough interpretation from Crowley's point of view, he supposed. "Well, no. It sounds perfectly nice, but I'd hate to bore you with it. I know you're much more fidgety than I am."

"Not bored," Crowley insisted, his eyes urgent. "Never bored when it's you, angel. Siddown."

Aziraphale laughed breathily. "Too late. I'm already up to cook dinner."

"Angel."

"You'll just have to wait," Aziraphale teased in a singsong lilt, casting a smile back at Crowley over his shoulder.

Crowley flung himself back on the couch with an impatient whine, leaving Aziraphale feeling very smug about his attempt at whatever the romantic equivalent of foreplay was. Crowley sounded very much like he was being left with blue balls. "Bastard."

"Only as much as you deserve, my dear," Aziraphale sang back as he went into the kitchen, acutely aware of Crowley's eyes following every step.

—

It wasn't really in question, at all, that Aziraphale would end the evening snuggled on the couch with Crowley's hands in his hair. There was also no question that he'd enjoy it thoroughly, and he also knew it wasn't the kind of thing that was likely to lead to anything more. So, instead, he just relaxed into it and let his thoughts drift.

"...do you really think I'd mind if my red fox turned into a silver fox?" he mused. The thought was languid, easy, relaxed. Crowley spluttered in incoherent surprise anyway, and Aziraphale laughed softly. "Yes, I know. There's a reason I'm not the writer of the pair."

"Y'are, though. Don't think I've forgotten that you are."

Aziraphale blushed a little at that. "Oh."

Crowley's hands resumed their meditative motion through Aziraphale's hair. "But... yeah. I'd rock it, wouldn't I?"

"You would," Aziraphale murmured with a smile. "And I'm quite looking forward to seeing it someday, my dear."

#good omens #ineffable husbands #bnf au #fanfiction of fanfiction #my writing #not actually about asexuality but let's be honest that hair-petting scene was my kind of ace #apologies for any misrepresentation about watercolors #seriously bilvy come get your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems out of my head #and be aware that if you leave time between posting future chapters then i might have to write more and nobody wants that

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jolapeno · 11 months ago

Text

stockings and stars

javier peña x f!reader

summary: Still need the star putting on the top of the tree. ive got other plans for you Because I’m the star? yeah you're my star and youre not going anywhere but on your back

from the late night texts world - but can still be enjoyed on its own. chapter warnings: allusion to/mentions of smut. no actual smut. javi undresses you, though. flirting. fluff. reader wears red lingerie and a dressing gown. javi flirting. sexy talk, romcom vibes ofc ✨ wordcount: 3k

an: to @goodwithcheese merry christmas from me, to you. thank you for everything, for the tuesday fun we have - i wanted nothing more than to have this out sooner, but life, you know? but, i adore you. and I'm so glad we found one another. ahuge thanks to @thetriumphantpanda who cheerleaded for me throughout.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Will I be seeing Santa Javi today? I want to decorate my tree.

one time I come to yours in a red shirt

You also had the tree under your arm and a bag of baubles, I’d class those as gifts.

keep talking baby and you can decorate your tree alone

Think I’m gonna wear that shirt you left here while I do it. Make sure I have to get up on my tip toes. Hope it doesn't rise up...

you don’t play fair

I think I’ll be in stockings too…

youre killing me

Maybe they’re white and red, and…

baby if i wasn’t putting this thing up for Pop, i’d be driving over right now

Hope you hurry up, I need someone tall to put the star on top of the tree.

how am I gonna eat you out when youre perched on the tree baby

The last thing on his to-do list from his Pop is to hang the front porch garland.

He had learnt there had been a huge difference in the front and the back porch garlands. A fifteen-minute-long difference when he'd timed the response given to his sarcastic answer.

Javi learnt there was not only one for the back porch and the front, but one which sat across the fireplace and one on the staircase.

He learnt that after he'd made a joke about mixing them up—earning himself a very pointed glare, and the task of the front porch.

Now, it’s a battle he’s losing.

Tremendously so.

While he’d never want his Pop to do the more challenging tasks, he did rather hate he hadn’t thought to trade this one in for the back porch at the very least—because that had looked fucking easy.

Holding the garland in hand, he’s suddenly hit with a second wave of nostalgia, the first having arrived when he'd pulled down the box and peered into it.

It did the same thing as it had done then, all but rushed over him, layering itself on his shoulders, sitting, nothing short of a comfortable weight on him. Letting his gaze fall out over it, he smiles at the tuffs of fabric, all the bows tied by hand, all in an array of sizes and shades.

Over time, he can see how they've become sun-dyed, remembering the first year they'd been sewn into the faux greenery by his mamá, memories of her all hunched over, humming carols.

Smiling, he rolls his lips, letting out a heavier sigh than he intended as he drags it to the post he’d begin at.

But, all he wonders is whether in the years he wasn’t here, whether it was occasionally hung—or if this year is just that special.

The mere hint that he was going to ask if you wished to spend Christmas at the ranch had sent his Pop into overdrive. Practically yanked him out of his chair like he’d been electrified, a bunch of orders being flung from under his white, wiry moustache that they needed to get ready.

He wasn't sure he'd get the image of his Pop suddenly scrambling around like a man half his age, to drag the decorations out from the cupboard, would ever be erased from his mind. Least of all the sound you'd made aww'ing down the phone when he'd given you a condensed version of the story.

Because he hasn't asked you yet, not properly.

Even though he's spent the last two days at the back of barns and spending a ridiculous amount of time at the hardware store—because we need to make sure the lights stay up, Jav.

He just hasn't found the right time to ask you. A promise each time he goes to see you left in the air. Not that his Pop remembers that, instead he's just busy thinking up ways to make it special: one of which includes decorating the trees at the entrance to the ranch.

An idea having sprouted with the newest ranch hand—one which, if Javi overheard correctly, involves rope acting like tinsel and a cowboy hat being the star on the top of the trees.

Feeling his phone vibrate, he temporarily ignores it as he begins to weave the beginning of the garland around the wood—already knowing, before he tries to move it around the spindles, that it isn’t going to be easy.

Because nothing ever fucking is.

Least of all when you’re waiting for him.

His mind begins to concoct images of you in bows and sheer material, lips painted, sat waiting, smelling nothing short of heavenly as you call out for—

“Fuck,” he shouts, dropping the garland to the ground.

It had pricked him, stabbed him right in the skin—hand shaking the pain out, face likely all scrunched. And, if it didn't have sentimental value, he's sure he'd have kicked its protesting ass with everything he had. Instead, he just narrows his eyes more than he had done moments ago as he begins again.

He feels his nostrils flare when it begins to undo itself. The sound of faux bristles on wood grates him before it will even attempt to do what he needs it to.

And it makes him want to quit, to throw it back into the box and tell his Pop it isn’t worth it. But he knows it is. Knows that his mama didn’t spend hours bent over under flickering light for it not to be seen.

Javi also strongly suspects you’d love it. Likely run your fingers over several bows asking who made it. He can even imagine the look of joy on your face when he tells you.

It’s why, if he didn’t already suspect it anyway, he’s pretty sure his Pop loves you more than him. Because even the first Christmas he was back, there weren’t this many decorations; not nearly as much need to have them all out, either.

Not that Javi really minds—or blames him.

There’s a notable shift in energy when you stay over. Even more so in him. He can see there’s a cheer and a glow to the place—one Javi hates watching vanish when he takes you back to your place.

It's why, when—and where—he can, he fights for you to be here. Practically finds convincing ways to do so, including, crossword puzzles, dinner, and two-person showers. But, at some stage, your clothing dwindles, underwear runs low, and he has to make the painful drive into town to return you to your place.

Your fingers in his hair, practically clambered into his lap as you whisper that you’ll be back before he knows it. His fingers on your chin, thumb stroking out the words he says right back—that he’ll miss you all the same.

Javier Peña. Texan softie—what will the world think?

He only thinks one thing when he drives back—a response which had been there on his lips. Guess they’ll see just how much I love you. A thing you know, comment on, say back to him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. An array of promises there, sometimes spoken at a normal level and sometimes whispered.

You always keep them, just like the one that you are always back before he knows it.

He likes it when you are. Enjoys it when you’re nestled beside him, arm across his chest, hand close to his ribs—strumming them, tracing lines and words he tries to understand before sleep takes him.

He still always sleeps better when you’re beside him. When his breathing can mirror yours, when he can feel for you in the night when he’s awoken with nightmares and things he knows won’t ever come true.

Now, he’s fighting a different battle. One to get to you.

Halted in his path to freedom by the garland which refused to be hung, and could be labelled as giving him more grief than the horses which had banded together. A phrase he never thought he’d admit out loud, never mind think.

You still fighting with the garland?

baby its torturing me on purpose

Do you want me to come and help?

will you come in the stockings

No!! Your dad is there.

then stay there actually lie down, but do not begin without me

Still need the star putting on the top of the tree.

ive got other plans for you

Because I’m the star?

yeah you're my star and youre not going anywhere but on your back

Hurry then.

i’m hurrying

He does hurry—practically scratched up by the time he’s parking his truck outside your place.

As he takes the step up to your door, Javi realises how much he misses it here when he doesn’t visit. A place less frequent and often spent time in, even under your insistence of renting it.

It is always usually a stopping point, him parking up, letting you go in and grab what you need before you're back in his truck, heading back to his.

He does like your place though, likes how small it is, how cosy. Plus, it has all the things which make you, you. A thing his place is currently missing.

Although, as he steps through the door, and calls your name, he does have to admit it currently looks fucking ridiculous.

On a good day, he’d describe your place as crowded, but right now, it’s claustrophobic.

The tree you’d forced him to get is shoved into a corner, branches fluffed out, surrounded by the piles of unpacked boxes you’ve tried to discreetly hide. Your remaining floorspace is overtaken by a bit of rug, several piles of books (you have no room for, but continue to buy) and odd bits of furniture you find and attempt to restore.

For the most part, you’ve decorated. A thing you did inform him of.

You’ll be pleased to know when you get here your only job is the star. managed it all yourself, did you I’m a very competent woman, Javi. oh i know baby ive seen you with a crossword Does that do it for you? Me finishing a crossword. does something to me Get over here. im leaving now

There’s a warm, comforting glow spread out across the place from the fairy lights you’ve hung and the array of mismatched decorations—both bought and handmade—hanging from branches.

He breathes in the scent of orange which hangs in the air, his eyes finding the culprit on your fireplace, a garland—one not dissimilar to the one he’d been battled with—places there, mocking him due to the ease of which had been laid, with oranges and little beads all entwined within it.

Snorting, he glances back at your tree, spotting the things he's been with you when you've bought. And, as promised—and informed him through text—there’s nothing at the top of your tree.

“You finally made it!”

Spinning on his heel, he comes face to face with you, and fuck if the sight of you doesn’t make it all worth it.

Dressed in a red, silky dressing gown, all tied in the middle, you're a vision. Then, there's the fact your lips are painted a shade he’d now famously dub Christmas red, a colour he wants nothing more than to be stained with. A path of it from his mouth down to the space where his jeans meet his hips. A thought which seems to only make how tight his jeans are even more uncomfortable.

“Cariño, you’re…”

You sway a little, letting the fabric move—allowing his gaze to land on the stockings. The ones he’s been thinking about all afternoon. The ones he can’t wait to feel under his palm and know whether they’ll create friction when wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck me.”

“I’m kinda banking on it,” you say, biting your red-painted lip. “But first…”

His hand crawls around your waist, feeling the smooth, soft texture under his hand—swallowing, dragging his eyes up and down you, unsure how he could ever be so lucky—how something so good could ever be here for him to unwrap.

“I need you to hang the star,” you continue.

“Right now?”

Nodding, you ghost your lips over his. “I’ve been so good waiting for you.”

“You're never good. You, baby, are a menace.”

“I’m your menace.”

Snorting, he presses a kiss to your lips. “Damn right, you are.”

Moving from you, reluctantly, only to pick up the gold star he assumes you want to hang, getting a nod from you that he’s right.

“Need to ask you something too.”

And even though he’s only taken a mere short step from you, he’s floored all over again about what a picture you look like when he glances back. That you’re standing all for him, dressed in nothing but cheer and ribbons all for him.

“Go on.”

Turning to your tree, he flattens his hand to the wall for stability. “I wanted…”

His concentration slides in—suddenly aware he doesn’t want to knock anything from the branches. Doesn’t want to force things to be misplaced from where they were expertly hung.

He’s also sure he’s wanting to swallow the question. A part of him, all the way deep inside of him, having been bracing—and waiting—to hear you’d be apart for the holidays. A thing the two of you have rarely been since you moved here, not a day going by he hasn’t seen you for at least an hour.

“Wanted to know if you—shit—” the star almost sitting atop, before at the last minute protesting. “I wanted to know if you wanted to spend Christmas with me—with us, me and Pop. At the ranch.”

The star slides into place, sitting more comfortably with another shove, more branch supporting it.

But he doesn’t turn, not immediately. Not as the question hums around him, swirls in the silence of you not immediately saying yes. So much so, that it takes him a second to move on his heels, to face you—to read the answer before it’s delivered.

What he sees is something his heart couldn’t have ever prepared for.

You, grinning—a silly, almost goofy, smile spreading out as you bite down on your lip, forehead slightly crinkled.

“You… you want me to spend the holidays with you?”

“Of course—cariño, I want nothing more than for you to be with me.”

It all quick to leave his mouth, mirroring the movement to be back in front of you, fingers under your chin, lifting your eyes—those beautiful, fucking eyes—to his.

“Do… do you—wanna spend it with me?”

You pull a different face before you’re nodding. One more excited, one which begins to expel out over a smile and a bunch of escaping phrases such as I can’t believe you want me with you and of course.

“Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”

Shrugging, you scrunch your nose—an act he finds just as cute as the first time he saw it. “Guess it’s a big deal. It’s… a thing people do with families.”

Pulling you close by your hips, your hand lands flat on his chest. “You are my family.”

“Javi,” you whisper, making each letter feel so individual the way you say it, that it makes his heart double.

“It’s true. You’re it for me, cariño. All I’ve wished for.”

Eyes widening, your eyes shimmer under the lights—more so than normal. Taking a deep breath, you lift your chin before pressing a kiss to his mouth. One which turns hungry, desperate—your mouth searing, a thing he’s craved since he woke up before the sun even rose.

“Baby,” you whisper.

And he hums.

It vibrates out, able to feel it from the way his fingers cup your cheek.

“Undo me.”

Releasing your lips with a pop, he opens his eyes, studying your eyes, moving from one to the other.

“Go on,” you urge in a whisper, more breathless, more tinged with something that makes his skin hot.

Sliding his fingers over the knot, he barely has to tug before it comes undone—unveiling you, like a curtain which wishes to part. If he’d thought you’d looked good before, he’s sure every bit of you is a sin now—a Christmas sin.

Red and lace. It’s all he sees. It sitting there, against you, hugging your breasts—sitting on your hips. His mouth is suddenly dry at the thought of running his tongue over the place it meets your skin before pulling it down.

Your fingers follow his eyes, sliding between the valley to land on the bow in the centre, twisting the edge of the tie around your index finger—palm skating over your stomach, allowing him more chance to take in how you’re stood before him in see-through fabric and promises.

“How’d I get so lucky?” he asks, more to no one, than to you.

His fingers teasing the fabric sat on your hip—marvelling, unsure how to think straight until you clear your throat, forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Hey,” you whisper, tightening your hold on his hands, bringing his arms more around your waist, pressing your front to him, feeling the heat from your skin through your clothes. “You’re all I wished for too.”

Smiling, he looks at your tree, before landing back on you. “You look so good.”

“I know. Could look better though?” His brow arches as you slowly begin to smile, the tip of your tongue sliding over your upper lip. “Everything is held in place by bows.”

Groaning, he closes his eyes, letting his hand slide down your lower back, over sheer material before his fingers find the ribbon on your hip.

“All for you.”

“Mine,” he answers, slotting his mouth over yours—staining the four letters to your lips.

His fingers slide around, brushing over soft skin, until he finds the first bow. Undoing it with ease, licking into your mouth, only to grunt against you when you whimper as the fabric falls to your feet.

“Yours,” you say back, your own hands beginning to undo him.

an: merry christmas, love you

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