#it’s about you trying when you’re able

[marsian-tango]

Yandere Alien

A normal person should be allowed to have normal problems, right? You’re no exception. You have a job that forces you to get out of bed at 8 AM, a shitty apartment that needs to be cleaned and tidied from time to time, bills to pay.

You have a life, you’re busy. But god, you’re exhausted!

You may be an adult, but you’re still young, and sometimes you just need to take a little break from everything!

So when you decide to spend your money on a modest trip to the countryside, staying in a secluded but cozy cabin, you’re finally able to relax…

CRASH!

Or maybe not.

Yandere! Alien who crashes his ship near your cabin, and is pretty much trapped in the debris.

Yandere! Alien who you manage to find through all the metallic rubble, using all your strength to drag his large body to your cabin. Tending to him despite your raw confusion and fear. Trying your best to steady your shaking hands to clean his wounds. How were you supposed to clean a wound again? Ugh! Maybe reddit knows?

Yandere! Alien who in his almost unconscious state, looks at you through half lidded eyes, taking in your soft features and small frame. You look so cute with his blood all over your hands! He can’t believe he got saved by such an adorable human. He needs to learn your culture so he can court you properly. Oh! Will you accept him right away or will you wait a little? Will you come live with him on his planet or should he just remain here with you?

Yandere! Alien who eventually passes out with a lazy smile painting his face, dreaming of how your relationship will develop.

Yandere! Alien who wakes up the next day with waves of pain rushing through his body. But he can only focus on the faint smell that envelops him. The bed he’s lying in…it must be yours! It smells just like you. He takes a deep breath, taking in your sweet aroma. He then gets up from the bed slowly, letting out a groan, he ventures through the cabin until he finds you.

Yandere! Alien who sees you pacing around the living room with a tired and stressed look. Oh, his poor human. You didn’t expect to meet him, neither did he. But don’t worry, he’ll take care of you from now on. After all, you saved him, so it’s the least he can do!

Yandere! Alien who clings to you constantly. He just can’t be away from you! You smell so good, and you’re cute, and small, and so...his. He thought that physical contact was the universal way to show affection, so why are you trying to push him away when he hugs you? It must be a game, right? Yeah, you’re just being silly!

Yandere! Alien who tries to learn your language through shows and movies, while also trying to learn a more human way to court you. It isn’t perfect, but at least you can understand him now.

Yandere! Alien who completely ruined the normality of your life. Having to take him to your house and give him a home. Cause who knows what could happen to him if you don’t? What if the government finds him and experiments with him in a lab? You don’t want that in your conscience!

Yandere! Alien who hates when you go to work. But if he finds out that you’re going out with your friends or, God forbid, a man? Oh, yeah, you’re definitely not leaving. Have fun trying though.

Yandere! Alien who enjoys seeing you struggle against his grip. He’s so much larger and stronger than you. You could bite, scratch, and push as much as you want. It practically tickles him, and it only makes him look down at you with those lovestruck, condescending eyes of his.

Yandere! Alien who’s romantic advances don’t go unnoticed by you, but you just don’t know what to do anymore! You’ve tried your best to make your intentions clear. You saved him, you took him, and you’ll keep him for now. That’s it. You’ve tried telling him countless times that you don’t like him in that way, so why doesn’t he stop cuddling you and asking you to marry him?!

Yandere! Alien who daydreams about his future with you. He’s starting to like earth, so he truly wouldn’t mind living here with you forever. It has nice movies, food that doesn’t exist on his planet, and a funny thing called ‘internet’. He can’t leave your apartment unless it’s nighttime, so when he found out that he could interact with other humans and learn more about your world through this ‘internet’ he was ecstatic! He started learning ways to court you, to treat you, to make you laugh. He even found a website where he can learn how to please you! That one will come very handy once you two get married.

Yandere! Alien who can’t wait to make you officially his…

This is the first time I write for something that isn't school, so this is very new to me. Please excuse my amateur ass, and if you find any mistakes please let me know, cause English isn't my first language. I would really like some feedback, so be as mean as you want, I just want to grow as a writer, even if nobody reads this. Kisses <3

[starkeysbabygirl]

⋆˚࿔ make you feel 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝜗𝜚 bsfbro!rafe x virgin!reader

𝜗𝜚 you have filthy thoughts about your best friends brotherX what happens when you can’t help yourself one night and get caught?

𝜗𝜚 18+ MDNI! unprotected piv sex, virgin!reader, virginity loss, blood mentioned, possessive!rafe, praise, dirty talk, daddy kink, hint at female masturbation

𝜗𝜚 idk how i feel about this one but i finished it and might as well share it, if there are any grammar errors or anything else i’m sorry i tried my best didn’t exactly edit🫣😂

sarah was your best friend ever since you could remember. moving away a couple years ago was probably one of the worst things that could have happened but the two of you promised to always see each other no matter what, every summer, so here you were staying with the cameron’s for the next few months. the cameron’s always welcomed you with open arms. the only one who seemed to have a problem was sarah’s older brother, rafe fucking cameron.

rafe cameron made your high school years a living hell. he scared off any boy who even thought about you in any way which is why you were still a virgin still, even at the age of twenty three, you were never able to get a boyfriend. you blew it off as rafe doing what your brother cade would have done if he were still around. rafe and cade were best friends but cade left a few years ago for college, a few states away. little did you know, it had nothing to do with cade and all to do with rafe and his bottled up feelings he never got over.

although rafe had always been beyond infuriating you couldn’t deny he was very nice on the eyes. he was one of the best looking guys on this island. this time around, you couldn’t stop thinking about him and it just kept getting worse and worse the more rafe came into contact with you.

you couldn’t help yourself as thoughts of rafe began to cloud your mind with all the ways you would want him to take you and have his way with you. your hands were down your sleep shorts before you could stop yourself. you’ve done this countless times before but never with filthy thoughts of rafe.

you were already wet when you start circling your clit, a low moan escaping your lips. you were lost in the moment when all of a sudden the door slowly creaks open and you quickly slip your hand out of your shorts trying to wipe any evidence off of your hands. you look towards the door surprised to see your best friends brother.

“rafe!? what the hell?”

“whoa y/n relax! stop looking so guilty. you fucking hiding some guy in here or somethin’?” he laughs but suddenly looks concerned as if you did have a man hiding somewhere in this room.

“no, i don’t know what you’re talking about rafe. of course not. get out.”

“what were you doing then y/n? hmmm?” rafe gets closer to the bed and sniffs the air making you nervous just watching him. you start to wonder how the hell he would know what you were up to just by smelling the air, it wasn’t possible.

“nothing, and it’d be none of your business if i was seeing anyone anyways.”

rafe grabs your wrist and brings your hand to his nose and inhales. a smirk forms on his face. “tsk tsk, naughty girl. nothing, huh?” he chuckles and shakes his head.

“what are you doing?! rafe what the fuck who does that?!” you whisper yell as you yank your hand away from him. “go back to your room, what are you even doing coming in here without knocking? sarah could have seen you or wheezie!”

“if you needed help going to sleep you could have just told me princess.” his hand grazes your cheek and you immediately blush, all megative thoughts out the window. rafe crawls on top of you making you lose all brain function. he slides his hands down the covers and toys with the bottom of your shorts. the tension in the air thick as it could ever be.

“r-rafe…fuck it, oh my god. touch me.” you beg, so desperate for his touch and more. it takes rafe no time pulling your shorts and panties down your legs and throws them on the floor. he makes his way down, giving a light tap to your legs.

“spread those legs, let me see.” rafe demands and you obey, spreading your legs putting your pussy on display. “fuuuuck y/n, this pussy is perfect, so fucking pretty and made for me.” rafe groans.

the dirty words coming from rafe’s mouth make your pussy throb with need. you knew you might regret it later but you didn’t care because in this moment you knew you were about to lose your virginity to rafe cameron.

“fuck me rafe, fuck me please? please i want you.” you spread your legs even more inviting rafe to have his way with you.

“you have no idea what this means y/n. once i fuck you, you’re mine. you understand?” he says with a stern voice. his breath hot in your ear. you nod. rafe pulls off his shirt in one swift move then starts to unbuckle to his belt and slides it off.

“words baby.”

“i understand rafe. i just…i need you, so horny i need to cum right now.” you whimper. rafe slides down to the foot of the bed and gets up. he pulls you down with him, turning you around so that you are bent over, chest on the bed and feet on the ground. he wraps his belt around your wrist tying your hands together behind your back.

“you gonna be a good girl for daddy? i’ll make your first time worth it princess don’t you worry. you might cry but i’ll lick your tears away for you.” rafe pulls his pants and boxers off, his hard cock springing out and leaking precum onto the ground. you try to look behind you seeing his hard length throbbing with the need to release. you were completely in shock at his size but also intrigued.

“yes daddy, m’going to be your good girl, and only yours.” you moan. rafe bends down a little to line up his cock to your pussy and rubs his tip up and down your soaking wet slit and eases his way in carefully. “ooooh f-fuuuuuck! ahhhh rafe! oh my god.” you cry out, his big cock slowly stretching you out causing you pain at first then pleasure.

“that’s my girl. you’re doing so well f’me my pretty girl. fuck this pussy feels s’good, squeezing my cock so fucking tight.” rafe grunts as he starts to pick up his pace. he grabs your waist and rams in and out of your cunt.

“ahh! shiiiit, feels s’good daddy, you’re going to make me cum, just like that! please, harder!” you scream. rafe shoves your face into the bed with one hand and slaps your ass with the other. his thrusts start to get fast and sloppy.

“you gonna cum with me princess? m’not going to last any longer, your pussy is too fucking tight, going to blow my load inside of you.” rafe’s low groans fill the room along with your muffled screams. just as rafe could feel his balls start to tighten he lifts your head from the bed and pulls it back at a weird angle so you were looking into his eyes.

“m’gonna cum rafe, i can’t hold it anymore, i’m cumming!” you scream.

“i’m right there with your princess! oh shit, fuck i’m fucking cumming god damn!” rafe grunts and pushes you into the bed as he falls onto you as his cock pulses, shooting rope after rope of cum deep inside your pussy and filling you up to the brim. he slowly pulls out and the mix of blood, your juices and his cum make a mess on the floor. you lift your head and he swiftly unties your wrists.

“wow that was…um, well..just how i imagined it would be with you, rafe cameron.” you chuckle and rafe has a cocky smirk on his face.

“yeah? well, don’t forget what i said earlier baby, you’re mine now and this was just the beginning.” rafe reminds you.

he grabs a towel from the bathroom and cleans you then himself up before cleaning the evidence on the floor. after everything gets cleaned up rafe puts his clothes back on then watches as you dress.

“i’d be yours anyday. who would have thought?” you murmur and yawn starting to feel the exhaustion set in.

“you were always going to be mine y/n. you just didn’t know it, but i did. i always knew.” rafe steps towards you and grips you by the chin, lifting your head up so you were staring into his eyes. he leans down and kisses you. you slightly pull back.

“good night rafe.” then you kiss him back and walk towards the door about to open it for him figuring he would want to head back to his own room.

“whoa. hold it. i’m not going anywhere princess, i’m staying right here with you now lets get into bed.” he grabs your hand and walks you back to your bed.

tagging a few moots: @cameronsprincess @rafesthroatbaby @rafesheaven @cameronwillow

[shop-of-daisies]

-> Lost in the woods, Heather was forced to take refuge in the nearest shelter she was able to seek— a stranger’s mansion.

Under the Blue Sky

“I’ll go fetch some wood.” Vivian, the athlete and one closest to Heather, said. The four of them were out in the woods, exploring. Heather shivers, feeling the cold air make contact with her skin. The sun had gone down a few hours ago. They were already under the night sky, shaded with black and blue.

Heather stepped on a few leaves which screamed a big crunch. Little were her steps, walking twice as slow as her companions. “Heather, you’re awfully quiet and distant.” Her friend with the long black hair, the oldest one, said, realizing the distance between them.

“I must’ve been lost in thoughts.” She replied, while shaking off the ominous feeling in her chest. The darkness and silence of her surroundings were eating her alive. She doesn’t understand how her friends find today’s wandering as a wonderful expedition. It seems to her that they only want to seek danger and put themselves between a string of life and death.

A howl was heard from a distance. Heather looked over to her friends who don’t seem to mind. She bit her lip in anxiousness before tugging the blonde’s sweater. “What’s wrong?” Her question came out as a whisper.

“Camilla, I’m scared. There must be a pack of wolves nearby. What are we to do if they were to find us?” The uneasy woman tried to get her breathing in a normal pace when she felt her friend’s hand on her back, trying to soothe her.

“Think it over, Heather. The howling was from far away and the woods are too massive for them to actually find us. Don’t be afraid. In any case, I’ll get bitten for you.” She slapped her friend playfully hearing her words. “Please don’t. I don’t want to feel guilty for your death.” She was still afraid, what can mere words actually ease when it’s their lives that is on the line?

“Let’s go back when she returns. I feel hungry, and we won’t last with what’s left on those we packed.”

They stopped a bit to wait for the athlete who went to fetch wood. Their village was situated a bit far from where they are currently, but hearing that they were venturing to go back after this, made Heather feel a bit relieved. She still does not understand the point of their exploration, especially without any plans at all, but now that they are about to go home, she shuts her mind off.

Thank goodness she got hungry.

Just when her heart rate got normal, they hear a familiar scream. It was so loud Heather can hear how the voice shook, how it screamed frighteningly by what was seen, and how it screamed in absolute pain. The screams tore through the air, past by the trees they had trodden, nearing their position.

The oldest one immediately ran, leaving the two by themselves without any word. Heather felt it, a buzz on her skin, acting like an alarm, telling her the danger that is about to come if she doesn’t move. Camilla grabs her wrist, urging her to run but she removes her wrist from the hold.

“Vivian’s still alive, Camilla. She’s being chased, we have to help her.” But instead of a positive response, Camilla shouts at her, “She’s already dead! We’re still alive, so hurry up because I won’t actually get bitten for you!” When Heather stayed on her place despite Camilla’s warning, she gave her a frown.

“It was nice knowing you, but I’ll say ‘I told you so’ at your grave.”

Heather felt her heart drop at her friend’s word. But despite being scared and sad, her heart swells for Vivian who was left on her own. She runs with all her might towards the direction of Vivian screaming. When she heard that it was near, she hid behind a tree and noticed that nothing is following Vivian.

She went to Vivian, and placed her hands on her cheeks. “Where are the wolves chasing you?” Vivian looked back hearing this, and realized that there was nothing behind her. Still feeling that something was wrong, she took Heather to the side, to the trees where she hid a few seconds ago.

“They’ll smell my blood, you need to go, Heather.”

“Why does everyone keep on telling me the wrong words that I don’t want to hear?” Teardrops fell from her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away, as she got a cloth from her bag, wrapping it around Vivian’s wounded arm. It was bleeding, but not that bad since it was scratched, not bitten.

“We need to leave, stand up, Vivian.” She forces Vivian to stand up, holding the wrist of her uninjured arm. Vivian was crying heavily due to the pain and stress of their current situation. She couldn’t speak anymore replies to Heather, so Heather took the lead and made Vivian hold tight of her hand.

She was about to lead her friend to the path where she was before with their other friends, when a loud scream echoed through the woods. This time, it came from the oldest. Heather immediately took the opposite route. She wanted to help them too, she really does. How can she help the injured Vivian without helping her other friends?

She took a peek at her friend, she was grunting, shivering, and crying hard, but continued to run in pain for both their sakes.

But they left Vivian to die. That’s the path they chose.

A few seconds after, another shout resonated. It was Camilla. She was shouting in awful pain. Both their screams of help continued for a few seconds until silence reigned. Tears continued flowing down on both friends’ faces, knowing the reason for the silence.

Despite their tears, they remained quiet while running fast. They don’t know how long they were running for, and where they are running to, but they knew that they have to survive the night. Leaves ruffled every passing second, and the howl of the wolves continued sounding. It was terrifying for the two. But the thought of death terrified them more.

Minutes passed when Vivian suddenly fell on the ground. Heather looked at her, and noticed that she fainted. Sweat and tears were all over her face and body, while the cloth that was used on her arm was now filled with blood. Heather was shaking as she made Vivian’s body lean on her own, assisting her to stand up despite being heavy and unconscious.

“Don’t leave me, Viv. You’re the only one I have.” As she started walking while holding Vivian’s body by the side, she stumbled on a tree branch and both their bodies fell. She noticed that her knee got scraped and cried. “I’m so tired, Viv. But I don’t want to die.” She told her unconscious friend, before standing up again and holding her friend’s body.

She walked and walked. Hunger, thirst, guilt, anguish, pain— she felt them all. She was mourning the death of her friends, praying that they shall find peace while trying to find peace herself.

Her knees and arms were about to give up when she saw a light from a distance. It was from a lantern. There was a house nearby. She grunted, tightening her hold of her friend as she continued walking towards the gate where the light was attached to.

She saw signages on the gate where words were written on red paint.

‘Killers’ ‘Ghosts inside’ ‘Die already’

But that didn’t stop her from going inside. She let herself in the massive land, but not before closing the gates. She knew that they were trespassing, yet she still walked towards the mansion. This was her last hope. She limped to the door and knocked gently.

“Please, help us.” Heather’s voice sounded loud and desperate. Among the silence, she knew that whoever was inside must have heard her. She placed Vivian on the ground and stayed seated there, tired.

A few seconds after, she heard footsteps coming from the inside. She readied herself for a harsh and cruel welcome, but the man who opened the door didn’t say anything.

He was taller than Camilla, who was their tallest friend. His features were undeniably handsome, yet she can’t say if he was affable. His eyes hold too much intensity, and his expression too stern, to be considered so. He was wearing a burgundy night robe and looked like he was on his way to sleep.

She saw how his eyes scanned both of their conditions. He looked at Heather and immediately knelt down to her current height. “Can you walk?” His voice was gentle, opposite to his strict features.

“I can.” He opened the door wide before helping her stand up, touching her hands with his own and pulling her up. “Sit on the couch while I carry your companion inside.” Heather was hesitant, but she already knew that there was no other choices to choose from. Unless she wanted both of them to die from wolves.

She sat on the couch as instructed. She took notice of her surroundings and saw how massive it was. But massive was all there is. It was empty. Apart from the couch, the tables, and the few paintings hanging on the walls, there weren’t any more. Surely it was clean and dusts were not in sight, yet it was odd. Surely they have helpers for a mansion this big? Yet it was so quiet. Even at night, if there were people at a house, creaking of floorboards or snoring would be heard, but there were none.

“Me and my mother are the only beings in this house.” She heard him speak, somehow understanding her thoughts. She didn’t seem to react much strongly to this information. She was focused on her friend who was being carried by the man.

“If you would allow it, I would like to bring your companion to the bedroom. Please don’t look at me that way—suspiciously, I only noticed the scratches, which surely came from wolves. I believe it is best that she is treated with utmost care.” Heather was startled by his words. She noticed that the cloth which covered Vivian’s wound was gone, and the scratches looked worse than they were previously.

“You may follow if you would like.” He said, pointing out after the change on her expression when he suggested moving Vivian.

She followed him up the stairs, trembling in pain due to muscle fatigue. Despite this, she doesn’t want her friend out of her sight. She climbed and climbed, and it was only after a while when she finally looked up at the amount of stairs to climb and her resolve wavered. The man looked back at her, hearing her stop.

He walked back at her, still carrying Vivian. “Please hold onto my arm. I’m afraid that you’ll pass out.” Heather wanted to refuse, but her knees prevented her to. She held onto his arm gently, not wanting to cause further distress at the man who was already holding onto much weight. But he paused and looked at her.

“Lady, I ask that you hold onto my arm, leaning to it for support. And not to merely touch for the sake of obedience.” She bit her lip and did as he told. Moments of silence and pain passed by. They reached the bedroom.

The bedroom had a single bed inside, a bed-side table, storage for clothes, and a glass window covered by a thin white fabric. The walls were painted dark green. The room’s source of light was only the lampshade placed on the bed-side table. It was quite alluring yet also lonely. She did not judge any longer than the initial train of thoughts, but wondered where she will be staying if her friend will occupy the room.

The man left for a bit and came back with disinfectants, instruments for stitching, and a bandage. He nursed Vivian as Heather watched him skillfully do so. Heather started to feel drowsy and started pinching her skin to stay awake. Fearful, one may describe her. But to herself, she was only being careful. Her friends died after expecting her and Vivian to do so, but because of a twist in fate, they were the ones to pass away. There is no saying what this man shall do to them.

When the nursing finished, he faced Heather. “May I lead you to your room?” He offered her his arm for support. She eyed him before accepting his offer. She limped to the room where she was led. As he opened the door to the room where she will be staying at, she took notice of the dark blue shade of the walls. That, and the vanity table opposite to the bed were the only difference to Vivian’s current room.

Instead of leading her to the bed, he sat her on the vanity table, letting her face him instead of the mirror. She wondered what he was thinking, when he kneeled to the floor and placed the medical supplies he used earlier on the ground before him.

“It will be quite painful. But your wound will only get worse if we were to not disinfect it.” He looked up to her, and only then did she notice how fair his skin was, the mole under his eye, and how his hair looked like it wanted to be ruffled. He seemed to have noticed her observing him, but did not shy away. He saw how her hand went up, only to be placed back down on her lap. But he only gazed at her eyes in reply.

“If you find it too painful to bear, you may place your hands on my shoulders.” He glanced at her expression which remained unchanged— observing, guilty, and drowsy. Heather stared at him, finding him to be a kind man, but one to be an enigma.

Despite her distrust, the way he gently nurses oddly comforted her. It was the kindness that was not shown to both her and Vivian since the start of the day. And it made her lean on to him slightly. When she felt the contact between her wound and the disinfectant too painful, she actually placed both her hands to his shoulder. He didn’t flinch, and leaned closer to her instead, so that she won’t be uncomfortable in trying to reach him from a distance.

"You're doing well. It's almost done." Was his words.

“Aren’t you too trusting?” She blurted out. He chuckled at her words, as if finding it ridiculous to even make the assumption.

“Isn’t it you,” He paused, looking over to her eyes before tightening the bandage on her scraped knee, causing her to squeeze his shoulders. “Who’s too trusting?” She grunted in pain, glaring at the man. But he just shrugged and stood up.

“You don’t need to be wary. Unless you have other motives, there is no reason for me to act.” He eyed the woman, seemingly observing her state. She tried standing up as well, and he instinctively placed her hands on her arm, helping her up. She didn’t seem to mind the gesture.

“Do you have candles in here?”

“What are you using the candle for?”

“To pray for my dead friends.”

He seemed a bit taken aback but didn’t question it. “I’ll go get some downstairs. In case you need it, the bathroom is opposite to this room.” Needing to go, she limped herself to the bathroom with his help.

As she closed the door to the bathroom, she breathed deeply. Tears once again left her eyes. She remembered yesterday’s events when the four of them were casually planning today’s exploration. None of them knew how it would turn out. But she blames herself for not speaking up when she knew the dangers that they were about to go through. She knew that something was wrong the moment they stepped inside the forest.

She noticed some toiletries, towel, and a woman’s night robe. “It must’ve been from his mom.” She mumbled, suddenly crying again. “How painful must it be for their parents to find out how gruesome their death was? What would our parents say if they were to find us?” She knew that everything that happened can no longer be changed. But she was still guilty.

How can I think that it was their fault that they died? They were probably scared too and had no choice but to save themselves the way they know they can.

A knock came at the door. “Is there anything you need?” He said from behind the door.

“No, this is sufficient.” She put on the night robe and opened the door. He stared at her and smiled. “I figured you’d like to light the candle yourself, so I was about to ask if you’re not too tired to go to the main room?”

“Main room?”

“The fireplace is in there. It is lit up currently. I can carry you if you find it too tiring.”

“No, I can manage. What is little pain when they died for me?”

“Very well.”

They went down to room where the fireplace was. The walls were also painted in dark blue, similar to the room he placed her in. There were paintings of butterflies and bunnies that adorned the walls. He made her sit in a chair, short enough to face the fireplace directly. He then gave her three candlelights settled on holders.

She lit up only two of the candles and murmured a silent prayer.

“Forgive me.” He stared at her, placing his two hands together to respect those who died. She noticed the action and was quite pleased. She smiled at him and said words of gratitude. He allowed her to place the candles on a table and let it stay lit until nature blows it out on its own.

As they finally went back to her room for the night, he placed her once again to the chair in front of the vanity table. This time, he made her face the mirror. He opened the drawer to her right, which contained a hair brush. He got it out and started running his fingers through her slightly wet hair, before using the hair brush. He was so gentle, as if little pain can hurt her scalp.

He looked at her eyes through the mirror, and saw the wonders of her thoughts.

“I’m used to brushing my mother’s hair.” He simply mention. She also stared at his reflection in the mirror. She didn’t know why she was allowing a stranger to brush her hair without any complaints.

I’m just too tired to complain. Or maybe because he hasn’t done anything bad for me to complain. He’s been too kind.

The gentle brushing of her hair soothed her. She was getting drowsy, and he noticed it. He noticed how her eyes fluttered like they were to completely close.

He placed the hairbrush back on the drawer where he got it, and helped her up to get on the bed. He went to the lampshade, about to turn its lights off, but was stopped when she spoke.

“Heather. I think you’ve done me much good and it is only right for you to earn my name.” He gave her a smile, turning his body to her before replying.

“Mine is Louis. I’m delighted to meet you, Heather.”

“I am too.”

They smiled at each other, and as he finally turns off the lights, he hears her soft voice.

“Good night, Louis.”

A smile made its way to his lips. He didn’t reply to her, and only walked out of the room. Once he was out, only then did he mumble back a reply,

“Have a good night, Heather.”

✧˖°.☪︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖☁︎

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ bad liar ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @gothic-rat112 (lost the ask...) ˚₊ ⊹

ft. seong gi-hun x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ how he is when jealous & insecure┊1.2k words 

setting: season 1 contains: age gap relationship (unspecified but legal obviously), insecurity & jealousy, he’s a little immature & broke as hell but it’s okay i love pathetic men, reader is a sweetheart, this is all over the place omfg

➤ author's note: okay i kinda went on a tangent, first season because i miss his stupid smile and his fluffy hair (also look at how cute he is in this gif omfg i love him sm, i need to write for him more, underrated in his own show, THE PUPPY EYES)

╰₊✧ honestly, gi-hun isn’t so much as jealous as he is insecure. sure, he has an outgoing personality and always makes you laugh without fail, but he can’t think of any other positive traits aside from that. he doesn’t think of himself as particularly attractive with his scruffy appearance, and he’s painfully aware that he’s lacking when it comes to finances and has a gambling problem to boot. on top of all that, he was a divorced middle-aged man who didn’t even have joint custody of his only daughter and still lived with his mom rent-free, a terrible husband, father, and son— he’s truthfully the type of man people avoid when dating.

╰₊✧ yet he still managed to pull a pretty young thing like you who looks past all that, not sure if you were stupid or desperate. during the first few weeks of being together, he made jokes about still being able to date younger women in his old age because he was still in disbelief it was happening, but when you stuck by his side through all his flaws and the first year passed with you supporting him to get better, insecurity hit him like a ton of bricks when he realized that he was genuinely in love with you and that he didn’t have what it took to be the boyfriend you deserved when he wasn’t even someone his biological family deserved. 

╰₊✧ he sees other people buying their girls jewelry and clothing from name-brand stores, taking them out to eat in luxury restaurants with multiple courses, driving them around in european cars, and he’s out here saving money to do something as little as cake for your anniversary. he’s always on cloud nine when he spends time with you, but there’s something so humbling about looking up “broke date ideas” and scraping together what he already has to make it more special. no matter how much things like that don’t matter to you with the mindset of the intention counting more than the price, he still feels shitty about having you pay for most of the things you do together when he’s the man and the older one in the relationship along with the fact that you were barely better off than he was. 

walks around to admire the sights: especially during holiday seasons when there are pretty lights, you like holding his hand and admiring the sights of the city you often take for granted. if the streets are empty then he doesn’t mind it, but he does get self-conscious about the looks you both get so it’s not super common.

candlelit dinners of takeout and beer: a regular one, gi-hun likes to gather a bunch of candles to make the place look a little more romantic, maybe even having some roses to make it look nicer. the man doesn’t cook much though, so you’ll just have replated takeout with bottles of beer, but he always makes it lively with conversation and puts effort into fixing his hair to look more handsome.

and anything else he can think of, he can be really creative when it comes to you and you’re pleasantly surprised each time.

╰₊✧ these things bother him a lot more than he will let on, but he tries to stay all smiles around you which you see right through like glass. he’s a bad liar, a trait he would always get in trouble for when he was a child since he couldn’t lie about his antics.

╰₊✧ he feels awful when he finds that you also entered these games to pay off your respective debts, because no matter how much you try to convince him you aren’t, he knows that you intended to use any extra money to help him out as well with his debt being higher than yours. it should be the other way around, he should be the one helping you, and when the first shots are fired during ���red light, green light,” he makes you swear that you won’t come back.

╰₊✧ of course, you do come back, because while he is your boyfriend, you’re also a grown-ass woman who can do what she pleases (also because you’re desperate and prefer not to find out what those loan sharks would do to you if it took too long to pay them back, and you might as well go to support gi-hun because you know his ass went back).

╰₊✧ he feels a little bit better about himself seeing all of the other people in a similar position as him, drowning in debt and petrified of death. he tries to be protective over you, but let’s be honest, you’re the protective one who mothers him, and since the constant threat of death is always looming, he lets you do it even if it looks stupid. people are either judgemental or jealous, but there are bigger things to worry about.

“people are staring…” he muttered, his eyes darting around to meet theirs and watching as they looked away the second eye contact was made. “you don’t need to do this, you know, it’s a little embarrassing.”

“i don’t care, let them stare,” you stated simply, rubbing into the back of his shoulders with practiced circular motions. “they are just jealous that they don’t have a cute girlfriend to take care of them like you do, and i want to! your muscles are so tense— i don’t want you participating in the next games when you aren’t in the best shape. we could die any day here, i want to give you all the love i can!”

╰₊✧ jealous of sang-woo with his intelligence and emotional security. even if both of them are wearing the same teal tracksuit, his childhood friend was in here because of failed investments which sounded a lot better than just losing constant bets in gambling dens. (to be fair, if you were gi-hun’s controversially young girlfriend, i don’t think either of you would get along well as he probably looks down on you and you probably find him stuck up, so he doesn’t have to worry about you being stolen away by him). not really jealous of that block-head deok-su hitting on you, after the little altercation they had on the first day, more annoyed than anything but the feeling quickly vanishes when he sees you reject him with a roll of your eyes. 

╰₊✧ actually jealous of anyone your age paying attention to you, especially ali who has a really sweet personality and gets along with you really well, maybe even sae-byeok who has a pretty face and is decently nice once you get to know her. 

“you need to stop pouting.”

“‘m not pouting…”

“you’re a bad liar, you know that? but it’s so cute,” you exclaimed, reaching out to pinch his cheeks childishly. “you don’t need to be jealous of ali, he’s already married and has a kid.”

“i know, i know…”

“i don’t think you do.”

╰₊✧ it’s so obvious when he’s jealous, it’s actually painful. he stares holes into the head of the person talking to you and is pouty until you address it. he’ll also blush when you call him out and tease him about it, it’s so cute. please give him assurance, pinch his cheeks, ruffle his fluffy hair, and give him lots of kisses, he deserves it.

(author is slightly delirious with a fever, i took medicine dw, i just really wanna kiss gihun)

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Doctor’s Orders

“Miss, please follow me into the exam room.”

I look up to see a sweet nurse smile at me and wave me over. I smile back at her and stand up from the waiting room chair, following her through the doors of the clinic. She leads me into a standard exam room and after giving me quick instructions to take off my clothes and get comfortable, she leaves me, promising the doctor will be here to see me shortly.

I look around the sterile room, taking in framed stock images tastefully arranged along the walls and the stack of various medical pamphlets about STDs and safe sex. I take a deep breath and start to undress. I’ve waited so long to come see this doctor and I’m not going to let my nerves get the best of me now. The doctor I’m here to see is a specialist in anorgasmia, the inability to orgasm.

I’ve never been able to achieve orgasm, no matter what I’ve tried. Numerous partners have tried, I’ve purchased countless toys and lubricants, even going as far as trying hypnosis. Nothing has worked and I had almost given up hope when I’d stumbled across this doctor and his specialty.

It took months for me to get an appointment, and the screening process was incredibly intensive. Apparently, he’s extremely selective in the patients he chooses to see so when I got the call that he was willing to fit me into his schedule, I was ecstatic. Maybe I can finally say goodbye to my inability to orgasm.

A soft knock at the door startles me and I watch as the doctor opens the door and steps into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. He’s younger than I thought he’d be. I’d been picturing a middle-aged man, maybe with some greying hair and glasses. Instead, he’s handsome, fit, and I can see the sparkle in his eyes as he greets me cheerfully.

“Good afternoon! I’m sorry for the wait but I hope you’re comfortable! It is lovely to meet you.” His voice is smooth, comforting, and when I extend my hand out to shake his outstretched one, his touch is gentle but strong.

I smile back at him, feeling some of my previous anxiety fade away. “No worries at all, I’m happy to be here.”

I watch as he opens grabs a chair and sits in front of the computer, logging in to pull up my medical chart. “Now, let’s see here, you’re here for anorgasmia I see.” I feel my cheeks flush at the clinical way he’d said it and he catches my blush as he glances up from the computer screen.

He gives me a comforting smile, “Don’t be embarrassed. A lot more women experience anorgasmia than people think, and it’s something that we can fix. I promise, there is nothing to be embarrassed about here.”

I give him a small smile back, the sincerity in his words soothing me.

“Now, I know you filled out a very long questionnaire already and I’ve already reviewed that so we’re going to get right to a physical exam to start.” He pushes away from the computer and stands up, walking over to where I’m sitting on the exam table.

“Can you take off your bra and underwear for me, please?” I nod, steeling my nerves before following his instructions. My nipples immediately harden into peaks at the cold air of the exam room and I feel so exposed with my entire body naked in front of him.

He unhooks stirrups from the bottom of the exam table and clicks them into place. “Prop your feet into there for me and spread your legs,” his voice is purely professional and I do what he asks. Placing my feet into the stirrups leaves me completely exposed and a small shiver goes through me as cold air brushes against my core.

“Now lean back and look up at the ceiling for me. We’re going to start with just a simple physical exam to make sure everything is normal anatomically. Then, we’ll move on to a few other tests for sensation and sensitivity. If at any point you have questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to tell me, okay?” He looks at me with care and I nod back, feeling comforted by his words and clear attentiveness.

He rolls his chair to between my propped-up legs and takes a seat, facing me. “My hands are a little cold but don’t worry, we’ll warm up in no time.” I let out a gasp when his indeed cold hands come to rest on my thighs. His fingers are gentle as he brushes against my center, his movements confident as he pokes and prods around.

I stay still as I feel him gently pull me apart, letting cold air rush against my core and clit. I bite back a gasp at the sensation. I feel him press against my clit, maneuvering my clit hood out of the way to reveal the bud. A swipe of his finger against my exposed bundle of nerves makes me jolt and I let out a sharp gasp this time.

“Sorry! How did that feel?” He asks, his voice apologetic.

I take a second to gather myself before answering. “It felt intense. Good but almost a little overwhelming.”

“Hm, that’s good,” he says, “That means you have a fair amount of clitoral sensitivity. We’ll do a more in-depth examination later but it’s a good sign.”

I hear the scrape of his chair against the floor and glance up to see his standing. “I’m going to grab some lubricant and we’ll do an internal exam next.” I nod and watch as he squirts a dollop of lube onto his fingers.

He settles himself back in between my legs and I shiver at the cold feeling of the lube. He’s purely professional as he spreads the lube over me and slowly works a single finger into me. I bite my lip to tamp down any sounds I want to make.

“I’m going to test your g-spot next,” he says and I feel his finger crook upwards inside of me, brushing against the spongy clump of nerves inside of me. The sensation shoots through me and I led out a slow breath.

“That’s it, you’re doing really well. Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” His fingers scissor inside of me and I let out a soft whimper. “Does that feel good?” His voice comes out in a lower register than before. “Come on, use your words. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me how it feels.”

I whimper again, “Mm yes, it feels good.”

“Good, so you have no problems with vaginal arousal and lubrication,” he says, his voice almost a purr now. “Don’t hold back, we want to make sure you’re giving your full reaction to everything that’s happening to help me understand what’s happening here.”

At his words, I let out another whimper, feeling the slow drag of his fingers against the sensitive walls of my pussy. He presses his fingers against my g-spot again and my back arches as pleasure shoots through me.

“Tell me, is this level of sensitivity and sensation reflective of how you normally feel during intercourse?” I take a second to catch my breath and think before I answer him.

“I think so, I’m usually pretty sensitive to sensation, it just never seems to culminate into an orgasm. A lot of times, I get too overstimulated to continue and I can’t cum.”

“Hm, I see,” his voice takes on a more contemplative tone. He pulls his fingers out of me, and I almost want to whimper at the loss.

“Well, I have a few theories but I’m going to do a more hands-on test to get a clearer answer of what we’re dealing with here. Lie back for me and relax.”

I lean my head back, staring up at the ceiling of the room and I feel him walk away for a second. He reappears at my side for a moment, and suddenly, I feel something encircle my wrist and hear a click. I jerk in surprise, glancing down to see that he’d cuffed me down to the table. My eyes meet his and smiles at me.

“Don’t worry, this is just to keep you still during the examination. The less movement there is from you, the easier it is for me to do my job. If at any point, you feel uncomfortable, tell me and we’ll stop, okay?” His words soothe the panic that rose up in my chest at the idea of being restrained and I give my consent. He smiles at me and makes quick work of clicking my other wrist into a cuff. Next, my ankles are strapped down to the stirrups and my thighs held apart by more cuffs. There’s even one that goes around my waist to keep my torso still.

“Good, how do you feel? Are any of the restraints hurting you?”

I shake my head in response, “No, I’m okay.”

He smiles at me again and I watch him open a drawer from across the exam room. “We’re going to introduce some equipment to help me get a better gauge of what we’re dealing with here.” My eyes widen as I watch him pull out several industrial looking sex toys.

“Let’s start with clitoral stimulation,” he says, setting down the toys except for one. He shows me the toy, it looks almost like an electric toothbrush with a wider body and a very thin head. “This is a very precise vibrator. Most commercial vibrators people tend to purchase have a much larger surface area, which can be very good for folks who are highly sensitive in all areas, but it doesn’t offer much precision in targeting specific parts of the clitoris. This one doesn’t have that problem since it has a much smaller head. Now this one is also pre-set to have 10 very well-calibrated intensity settings. Depending on your reaction to each setting, I can make better conclusions about your clitoral sensitivity. We’re going to go through the settings from low to high and I want you to continue to be vocal and tell me what you’re feeling, okay?”

I nod, “Okay, but what if I get too overstimulated?”

He gives me a comforting smile, “Just tell me and we’ll stop and re-evaluate if it happens.”

I nod again and he sits back down between my legs to get started.

I hear the toy click on, presumably at the first level based on the low, quiet buzzing sound its emitting. I gasp when I feel his fingers gently pull my pussy apart to reveal my clit, already erect and throbbing from his earlier treatment.

A moan escapes from my throat when I feel the toy make first contact. It feels so much more intense than any other toy I’ve ever had. The precision of the toy and the ease in which he handles it means that the vibrations are pressed right against my exposed clit, forcing the collection of raw nerves to submit to the sensations.

“How’s that?” He asks, his voice making me scramble to get ahold of myself to give a coherent response. “It feels so intense but in a good way.”

“Good, that’s good. Just relax and let yourself feel.” He murmurs, keeping the vibrator pressed tightly against me.

My eyes drift shut as I feel the sensation overtake me. The pleasure is forming a haze around my mind, every thought getting chased away by the feeling between my legs.

I hear his voice again, “I’m going to increase to the second setting. Just stay relaxed for me.”

I let out a whimper in response as the toy clicks up a level. The pleasure intensifies but there’s also a building sensation of raw overstimulation that is starting to arise. We’re nearing the point where I would normally stop and take a break but I don’t want to tell him that yet. I want to let him keep going, because maybe today is the day I finally get to cum.

I bite back a whine and clench my fists at my sides.

“Increasing to level 3 now.” He says, resting a hand on my thigh as his other one holds the toy firmly against me. The increase this time makes a cry rip out of me and my eyes fly open to meet his.

“Ah- it’s so much, I’m getting overstimulated.” I whimper out, my hands clenching and unclenching in an effort to control myself. He nods but doesn’t make any move to pull the toy away or decrease the setting.

“Try and tough it out for me for a bit more, I want to see if we can overcome the overstimulation.” He gives me a comforting smile and gently pats my thigh.

I take a deep breath and nod, letting my eyes drift shut.

“Increasing to level 4 now,” he says and the vibrator switches to a higher intensity before I can protest.

“Wait! Wait, please, just give me a moment, please!” I gasp out as the sensations shoot through me entire body. He shakes his head, “You’re doing great, just relax and let it happen.”

I whine as tears are gathering in my eyes. I’m walking the very thin line of pain and pleasure as the vibrator forces breathtaking feeling onto me while riding my nerves to the sharp edges of overstimulation. I hear his voice again and my heart drops when I register his words. “Increasing to level 5.”

A scream bursts out of me as all of the sensations compound and increase. It’s too much, I can’t do this. I can’t tell if I’m close to cumming, I just know that I’ve been absolutely thrown over my threshold for sensation and I can’t take anymore. I sob out my begs to my doctor.

“Please! No more, please stop! STOP! It’s too much! I can’t take it!” My body is shaking and I’m fighting with everything I have against the restraints but nothing gives. His hand on my thigh has turned into an iron grip, holding me down so I can’t even shift my hips to escape the relentlessly accurate vibrations.

“PLEASE! STOP!” I sob. There’s nothing to save me. He doesn’t listen, he might’ve said something to me but I’m too far gone to hear. All I know is the torturous pleasure dominating every single nerve of my body.

Beneath the horrible overstimulation, I feel a warm thread of something else. Something pulsing through my body, filling me with pure pleasure. I whimper as the feeling starts to build, my every muscle seeming to tighten in response to it.

There’s a knot building in my stomach, spreading throughout my body. Coupled with the overstimulation, I feel ravaged and decimated, every nerve pulled bare and shocked by the live wire of sensation that’s forced upon me. Before I can even begin to articulate it, I feel the vibrator kick up another setting and I scream as it shatters me.

I cum. For the first time in my life, I cum. My scream seems to shake the very foundation of the building we’re in as the pleasure, pain, and sensation flood my body, every cell of my body bursting with it. I can’t do anything except ride the relentless wave of pleasure, my entire body a slave to the whims of that horrible, terrible, delicious, mind-altering pleasure.

I slowly come down from the high of my first orgasm, gasps shaking my body as my mind struggles to reengage with reality. I blink tears out of my eyes, and I look up to see my doctor standing over me, holding the toy that he’s mercifully removed from my clit.

“Good job, sweet girl,” he purrs, running his hand up my thigh to cup my pussy gently. The soft motion is enough to make me whimper. “How did that feel, darling?” The terms of endearment make me pause but I’m too hazy to really digest it all.

I clear my throat and swallow, my voice raw from the screaming and begging. “I- It felt really good but it was so much,” I whisper, “I don’t know if I can do that again.”

He smirks and suddenly, I’m hit with a wave of uncertainty. There’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there previously and it makes me nervous. Something about the way he is looking at me is so different now than earlier, with his cool professionalism and niceties. Now, I feel like a specimen under a microscope and he, the scientist who plans on dissecting me.

“I think, I think I need a break. Can we finish this appointment another time?” I murmur, pulling slightly at my restraints and looking at him.

He lets out a low laugh that makes my skin pebble with nerves. “Oh no, now that I know what the problem is, I can’t let you leave until we fix it. What kind of doctor would I be if I let my patients leave without being cured?”

I shake my head, “I don’t understand,” I whisper. “You made me cum, doesn’t that mean I’m cured?”

He smirks at me and he slides a finger into my pussy, making me gasp. “Not at all, we’ve proven that you indeed can orgasm, but there is still much to be examined in terms of the extent of your orgasms. Plus, we have several more levels of this vibrator to get through and we haven’t even begun to work on your pussy and g-spot yet.”

My eyes widen at his words and the curling feeling of fear truly takes root inside of me. “Wait no, please, I don’t want to continue with any of that anymore. Please, just let me go!”

The look on his face is one of glee as he sees my terror become apparent. “Now now, you don’t want to leave against my medical advice, do you? Plus, darling, you consented to following through with my professional recommendations when you signed up to be a patient. There’s no backing out of this now. And especially when I know how sensitive of a whore you are, darling.” He chuckles.

I whimper, “Please, no, I don’t want this.”

He bends down to lean in close to me. “Well, I don’t give a shit about what you want. You are the most unique case of sensitivity I’ve ever seen, and I plan to take full advantage of that while I have you here. So be a good girl for me and enjoy this.” He presses his lips to the side of my neck and the feeling makes me tremble.

He ignores the rest of my protests and goes back to sitting between my legs. I watch in fear as he holds up the vibrator and clicks it on. “We stopped at level 6 last time, that’s where we’ll resume. And scream all you want, sweet girl, these walls are soundproof and won’t let a speck of sound through.”

I do indeed scream when he presses the vibrator against me again.

This time, there’s no build up of pleasure or stimulation. It all slams into me all at once and I writhe against my restraints as everything overwhelms me. I vaguely hear a low laugh permeate the space around me but I can’t focus enough to pick out any other noise amidst my own sobs.

My doctor stops giving me any verbal cues, not that I’m coherent enough to even understand at this point. All I know is the punishing vibrator held against my clit, ravaging my body and turning me inside out. The claws of pleasure are embedded deep into my psyche and my body is at its complete whim.

I have no idea how much time has passed or whether I even stayed conscious for the entire duration of the torture but eventually, I realize that he’s stopped. The vibrator is off but my body was still shaking from phantom sensations, every inhale of air a sharp stab, and every sob a reminder of how broken I am.

Slowly, I register the sound of his low laugh. I whimper as I blink away my tears to look at him. “You, my sweet girl, are truly remarkable. I don’t think you realize since you were so out of it, but we were at the highest setting for the past ten minutes and you didn’t even cum once. I’ve never come across someone so fucking sensitive and yet so resistant to orgasm. It’s incredible because you don’t seem to become desensitized either.”

I whimper and my voice cracks when I speak. “Please, please, just let me go. I can’t handle any more. I won’t tell anyone about this, please just stop doing this.”

He smiles at me and for a brief moment, I see the professional, nice, kind, good doctor from earlier. But all my hope is washed away when I feel his fingers press against my core again.

“I can’t do that, darling. We still have your precious pussy left to work on,” his voice is filled with excitement and it makes me want to cry because I know what is coming next and I’m not sure I will survive.

I watch him exchange the vibrator for a huge dildo. He smirks and presses a button on the underside of it and the entire thing begins to vibrate. “I think we can go ahead and skip to the higher settings here.”

Tears fill my eyes and I shake my head at him as pleas fall from my lips. He ignores me as he lines the dildo up with my core. I tremble as the vibrations make me shudder without the toy even breaching me yet.

He catches my eye and I watch as he gives me a wink and proceeds to slam the dildo home inside of me. I arch my back and let out a devastated cry. The toy fills me to the brim, the vibrations ravaging my sensitive walls and my g-spot in a way that makes my eyes roll back.

I’m sobbing and shaking as he drives the dildo in and out of my pussy. Every movement against my overstimulated walls tortures me. The pleasure digs its claws into me and drags me back into its embrace. My entire being submits and I feel my mind’s grasp on my sanity loosen as every single facet of my existence narrows to pleasure.

Each thrust seems to make my sensitivity grow, every single muscle in my body aching and begging for relief. I feel his hand clamp down on my thigh as the other continues to work the dildo inside of me. I want to rip myself out of my body to make this torture end but there’s nothing I can do. Every push and pull shoves my body higher and higher to a peak that I can never seem to reach. There’s no culminating release of pleasure to make this all better, no soft wash of an orgasm to soothe every jagged nerve. There’s only him and the torturous pleasure he imparts onto my very soul.

An unfathomable amount of time later, I feel him finally turn off the toy and pull it out of me. I barely register the lewd sound of my cunt clenching around the toy, my pussy still weeping with arousal even after the devastation he brought upon me.

“Please,” I whimper. “Please, are we done? Please, I can’t take anymore, please let me go.”

He brushes my hair off my forehead and he smirks at me. “Oh, sweet girl, I can’t let you go now. I’m going to be keeping you as my perfect little toy. There are still so many other things I want to try on you. I’m going to push every single limit you have until you break for me.” A soft whine escapes from me and I know there is nothing I can do to convince him otherwise. My head lolls from exhaustion and I feel my grasp on consciousness start to loosen.

The last thing I hear is his voice. “Sleep, sweet girl, I’ve got you.”

[witchesverse]

run, little one, though the pack may follow

pairing: dark!agathario x werewolf!reader

summary: she killed your pack and chased you for six hours. you think you've been saved when you find a cabin, but unfortunately, you've walked right to her doorstep.

content: mentions of killing, wolf hierarchy, kidnapping, collars, muzzles, degradation (mutt, dog), hair/fur pulling, being chained to a wall, shock collars, mean!agathario, death threats, face slapping, noncon, somnophilia.

1.3k words

masterlist // the shelter masterlist

Six hours ago, your life was ruined. The witch, you have learnt her name to be Agatha, slaughtered your pack before driving you into the forbidden forest - a place no werewolf should enter. You thought your torment would end there, but she hasn’t stopped chasing you.

Your paws slap against the forest floor and your legs weaken with each step. You’re exhausted and need a break, but if you stopped running, she would catch you and kill you. The feeling of hope sparks in your chest; a cabin stands in the distance. You can pretend to act as an injured dog and seek shelter. You scratch against the front door and whine. A few seconds pass before the door is opened, revealing a woman with dark hair. Something about her aura makes you shiver. You give her your biggest puppy dog eyes and whimper, lifting your paw as if it is injured. 

The woman studies you for a moment before scoffing. “Agatha, come get your bitch.”

There is no time to react. Agatha grabs you by the scruff of your neck and pins you to the ground. You growl and twist in Agatha’s hold, desperately trying to escape her grasp. You feel something slip around your neck and click in place.

Did she put a fucking collar on you?

“Do not forget the muzzle. I am not dealing with teeth.” the woman hisses with disgust.

To wear a collar was embarrassing and degrading, but a muzzle was by far worse. You weren’t able to defend yourself with your teeth or assert dominance as easily. Only the lowest wolves in the pack wore a muzzle as punishment. There was no way you could allow yourself to wear a muzzle.

You manage to squirm out of Agatha’s grasp and pull yourself away from her. You stand defensively, teeth bared and eyes narrow. You can’t keep running, it has proven to be futile. 

“Brat,” Agatha pulls something out of her pocket and presses the button.

An unbearable pain pulses through your neck and you collapse to the ground. It feels like you’re continuously being punched really, really hard in the neck. The collar is electric. You try to stand but your muscles feel weak and like jelly. Agatha grins wickedly, taking three steps towards with the muzzle in her hand. The muzzle is black and has a few large holes for your nose and air to pass through. It has two straps on the side which she clips around the black of your head, and one strap going down the middle of your head which clips to the two straps. If you had the energy, you would scratch and snarl at her. To wear a muzzle was pathetic. It showed signs of ownership and submissiveness - she did not own you and you are not an Omega.

"Remember our deal, Agatha." the woman seems disinterested in you, almost like she doesn’t want to keep you.

"You'll be a good pet, won't you, darling?" Agatha purres.

You wish that you were human so you could snap a reply at her.

Your limp body is encased in purple magic, lifting you from the ground. Your body trails behind Agatha and the other witch as they walk inside. The cabin is small. Directly next to the door, there is a worn leather sofa and two empty bookcases. The kitchen is at the end of the cabin, and the wooden dining table is adjacent to it.

The unknown woman takes a seat on the sofa. Agatha continues down a hallway and turns into a room. This room is nearly empty. There is a queen-sized bed in the centre of the room and two cabinets on either side. On the right, there is a large dog bed and a chain connected to the wall. You are placed on the dog bed and Agatha attaches the chain to your ankle. As much as it is degrading, you can’t deny how comfortable it is. 

Agatha crouches, her hand threads through your fur, pulling it to reveal your throat to her. You bare your teeth. “I’ll give you a day or two of grace, but I wouldn’t try that attitude on Rio, sweetheart.”

Rio. That is the name of the other woman.

She releases her grip on your fur and pats the side of your muzzle before standing. “Get some rest,”

If your body didn’t feel like dead weight, you would have launched yourself at her and ripped her throat out. You don’t want to sleep. You don’t want to follow her orders. You want to be free with your pack; they deserve a proper burial. You stifle a cry at the thought of your pack. They are dead, rotting alone, and no doubt being torn apart by wild animals. You are the Alpha; the protector of the pack, yet you failed to protect. You blink back your tears. Crying won’t help, it will only blind you. If you want to take revenge, you need to focus.

You fight sleep for as long as you can, but there is no point. You are exhausted, your body aches, and the bed is so comfortable. You sigh, close your eyes, and let the world go dark.

When you wake, you notice two things. One, you’re human again. Two, your pussy and thighs are sticky. You drag two fingers through your slick; you’re drenched. You swallow, dragging yourself to your knees. It’s dark outside; moonlight is illuminating the room. There is a light breeze coming through the open window, making your naked form shiver. Wait, there’s an open window. An escape.

You stand eagerly and quickly move to the window, completely forgetting about the chain connected to your ankle. You fall to your knees and wince at the loud smack. You glance at the door, expecting one of the witches to walk through, but they don’t. 

“Fuckin’ chains.”

You tug at the chains, hoping they’ll disconnect from the wall. They don’t budge. You don’t even bother trying to take the chain off your ankle; it’s padlocked. You groan, flopping on the dog bed in defeat.

“Gave up already, mutt?”

You snap your head to the door. Rio leans against the door with a mocking smile. She’s wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. As she walks towards you, you back into the wall. She crouches, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear. Forgetting about the muzzle, you try to bite her. Her mocking smile drops and she pulls you by your collar.

“Don’t try that shit on me, mutt. Or I’ll make you wish that Agatha killed you with the rest of your pack.” she snarled.

“Fuck you.”

Her hand collides with your face. The slap is hard and brings tears to your eyes. She pushes you onto your back and keeps your thighs spread. One finger drags through your pussy, making her laugh.

“Agatha treated you well. Too bad, you weren’t awake for it.”

The look of confusion on your face makes her laugh harder.

“Dogs have never been that smart, have they?”

You hate being called a dog or a mutt, unfortunately, Rio seems to enjoy it. You hate everything about this. Never in your life have you been in such a vulnerable position or had someone have so much control over you.

“Why?” you croak as her hands glide over your stomach and tits.

“Why not?”

“Leave her alone, Rio.” 

With a smile, Rio shuffles back from you. She’s still close enough to touch you but you’re grateful she gave you space. It’s pathetic how terrified you know you look. You have pushed yourself against the wall, trying to create as much space from them as possible.

“You’re scaring her before it’s meant to get scary, my love.” Agatha tsks, kissing the top of Rio’s head.

“It’s not my fault that she’s a scaredy cat.”

You growl. A scaredy cat? Seriously?

“I’ll kill you both.” you promise. “I’ll make your death slow, painful, and horrible. Nobody gets to harm my pack and walk away from it.”

They laugh hard, especially Rio. You scowl. People are meant to cower under your threats, not laugh.

Agatha sighs. “We better get your training started then, shall we?"

\\

taglist (comment to be added) (if ur name is crossed off, i couldn't tag you)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress @absolute-memegarbage @teenybean @psychickryptonitebouquet @screamsin-gay @marvelwomenarehot0 @ctrlaltedits

[demisexual-dryad]

Okay, as an American studying to become a botanist I’m about to fire shots in every direction. None of you are safe, not even myself, but there are things about this post that have pissed me off to the point of righteous anger.

American chestnut is functionally extinct yes, except for a few remaining colonies, however, that’s not because of most Americans, just as you, previous person, said your issues are not because of most of the British- as Americans relied on chestnuts as a cultural symbol and a food source as they taste arguably better (or so I’m told) than the European chestnuts that were exported to us carrying chestnut blight that killed our chestnuts. Those same stumps ARE STILL TRYING TO SEND OUT SUCKERS, and are STILL DYING BECAUSE OF AN INTRODUCED BLIGHT BY EUROPEAN NEGLIGENCE.

I understand you’re mad at the lack of education on our side, I am as well- the American education system FAILS at teaching botany on a MULTITUDE of ENORMOUS levels, and you and I both know that plant life is the basis of an ecosystem, but don’t you dare think that this means I’m not infuriated by the same from you- I am. I KNOW FOR A FACT that Europe is no better in its failure to find value in botanical studies, and I’m still pissed about it, but I’ve at least seen a few papers about the subject and written a few essays myself, and at least Europe isn’t the near-dead-static radio silence about botany the way America seems to be. But at least know that this is a two way street, and don’t deflect about that shortcoming when we’re both at fault.

The prairies??? That was misguided science and capitalism instilling laziness. We had rules and laws about rewilding areas post mining expeditions and construction, but those were ignored by greedy corps who figured slapping some trees on an area that didn’t have trees before would solve their problem. And the people in charge weren’t ecologists, but government officials who heard in school that trees give us oxygen and are therefore better than grass, and so with being slid a little extra cash, shrugged their shoulders about it and turned a blind eye to the issue because “well it’s just trees” and BOY, AM I MAD ABOUT THAT TOO, but being MAD, and BEING ABLE TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT are two very different ball parks, babe.

Then there was climate crisis attention in the nineties, and although the intentions of the campaigns were pure-hearted, they were misleading in the idea that planting trees Willy-nilly would solve our problems, and while yes, trees are larger organisms that need more co2 to grow to max size, and therefore absorb more carbon, not all trees are created equal, and while some non-natives might absorb more CO2 or do better in certain regions, more of the people supplying and planting those invasive trees have no ability, much less a concept of even recognizing the potential for something to become invasive. Another failure of our shitty education system, but we already know it’s shit, so that’s besides the point.

The grasses and monocultures of lawns we have are a direct spawn of English colonialism. Lawns were managed by slaves and considered a sign of wealth- and non-natural ornamental landscapes were seen as a sign of knowledge and skill to tend.

American pioneers and natives didn’t give two shits about those things, and though we aren’t blameless for the slew of invasive ravaging our ecosystems, Britain is no saint in this either. Y’all have a government that fears and respects Its people and their voices; do not squander your opportunity, when here in America, trying to get through to a politician bought out by lobbyists to get off their asses and do something is clearly MUCH HARDER than you all seem to think it is because capitalism is unchecked over here.

You have the science. You have the opportunity. Fight the status quo and take a risk while you have a chance to. Right your wrongs. There’s no excuse to not. At least we make an effort and fight, even though every step forward feels like a step backwards because politicians and public figures here usually have their pockets and offices lined so thick with wads of cash they can’t seem to hear us screaming in the streets. So many organizations out here are all desperately scrounging for donations and support individually to step up where our governing bodies ran like cowardly father figures going out for milk and cigarettes and then simply ignoring the issues we’ve being screeching about like it’s not something young people are mad about on the daily. Also, you lost lynxes??? Reintroduce them. Yes you’re on an island, that doesn’t stop animals, and it hasn’t before. They will adapt so long as you let them. You can fix the damage that’s been done, all it takes is effort and time, and a willingness to take a chance to make a change.

Moreover. You ALSO EAT THOSE STOLEN CROPS.

TOMATOES. CORN. SQUASH. BEANS. TOMATILLOS.

YOU EAT THOSE TOO!

And what about the Cinnamon? The Mace? The nutmeg? The British stole those from the people of India. The tea you’ve monopolized as your own? That’s from China and Japan. You don’t even drink it right. You’re suppose to pour out the first steep according to Chinese tea practices. And they sold it for far cheaper to the British at the time. The wheat? Grains? Ethiopia, that’s from the Fertile Crescent. Your very bread is made of a stolen crop.

Your fruits? All of it, stolen. The Mediterranean originally grew mint, oregano, rosemary, olives, and cabbage.

Do you indulge in chocolate? That was stolen by your Spanish neighbors from the Aztecs and Mayans darling. Chewing gum too.

We didn’t even steal half the crops we grow, imperialism did, so don’t even start there. Many of the natives crops are viable solutions to local food, but guess what? WE DONT FREAKING USE THEM!

You wanna get mad at us for something? Get mad that we don’t use acorn and coontie flour instead of wheat. Get mad that we don’t use elderberries and American cherries in jams as much as we should. Get mad that we haven’t cultivated the pawpaw or Florida plum as much as we should. Get mad that we don’t use sumac, or Kentucky coffee. Get mad that blueberries and cranberries aren’t a main staple in our diets, and because of capitalism-caused food deserts and absurd prices. Get mad that we don’t eat local meats, but farm instead of forage when there’s so much we could be eating to cut back on our waste, but we don’t because humans are prissy and don’t want to put the effort into making things taste good by selective breeding like we did when we were nomadic and still figuring out agriculture. Get mad that we could be eating our way through our kudzu problem in the south, but we aren’t because it’s just not something we do culturally.

Get mad about the things we can be faulted for, because at least we can actually try and control those.

The moral of the story here is we should be fucking mad at the GREED OF THE FEW. At the end of the day, that’s what’s caused us the most problems isn’t it? Instead we sit here and we bicker about who’s worse, instead of making each other better. Like you said, let’s not throw stones at each other from our stupid glass houses, and burn down the people who are actually responsible and have the means to do something but instead choose to do nothing.

Actually your society is the freaks for shooting everything that moves and burning half your "nature reserves" every year so that upperclass dandies can eat leaded pheasant. North Americans are the well adjusted ones here, your country has become a desolate suburban lawn in island form

[francesderwent]

so for the purposes of this discussion I’m going to assume that we all agree that it’s not a desirable state of affairs to be sexually intimate with a whole bunch of people just for fun. I know not everybody agrees with that *gestures vaguely to the sexual revolution and the hookup culture*, but if I have to prove that first then that’s going to take forever and I don’t think it’s what we’re talking about anyway.

we’re going to assume that our interlocutor believes sex and love do have something to do with each other, and wants to know why we shouldn’t treat sex the way that most television shows these days treat sex: like kissing on the lips. you’re in love with your boyfriend so you kiss him on the lips. and then you might break up, and fall in love again and kiss a new boyfriend on the lips. in certain circumstances you might kiss someone on the lips who isn’t your boyfriend, like if they save your life or you go through a bonding experience together or something. and eventually you get married to someone and you only kiss that guy on the lips from then on, but you have kissed a few other guys before and it’s not a big deal or a scandal at all. why, is the question, can’t we treat sex exactly the same?

so, point one is: because the whole physical world is infused with symbolic meaning, the human body speaks a language of its own. we don’t assign meanings to the “words”, they’re inherent and universal. you can’t twist bodily actions to mean whatever you want them to mean, they’re going to go on saying what they really mean whether you want them to or not. a slap does not mean love; its violence is not and cannot be loving. a kiss does not mean hatred; Judas betraying Jesus with a kiss adds an extra layer of hurt to his deception.

point two: in order to exist happily and healthily in the world, we need to speak the truth with our bodies, and not try to twist the language of the body into saying something it isn’t. when we lie with the body, the whole real world we live in resists us. we’re trying to impose our own meaning by our own will onto something that already has its own meaning, given it by God, and quite frankly, God’s meaning is stronger and it’s gonna win. think of this as living in a state of denial—even if you can stay in your denial for a little while, eventually, reality will have its say, it will make itself felt. more on this later.

point three: sex, as a word in the language of the body, is saying something other than just “I feel love for you”—i.e. it is saying something different than a kiss. how do we know this? first of all, sex causes bonding on a chemical level in a way that kissing absolutely does not! secondly, sex creates children—and therefore exists on a very different level than kissing! both of these differences point to this: kissing as a “word” speaks about love as desire, when it says “I feel love for you” it’s mostly saying “I want you”. sex as a word speaks something more, it says something in itself about a commitment which is forever. what sex is saying is “I give all of myself to you and I receive all of you in return, we belong to each other forever”.

point four: the only circumstances in which sex can be spoken truly is marriage. sex speaks in the body the same total commitment that is made in the marriage vows, reiterating and confirming the mutual gift that has already been given.

this is sort of where it gets tricky (and where I think TOB speakers often fail their listeners), because when you’re dating somebody, if you’re not being disingenuous and stringing them along until you find something better, you do hope that you’ll be together forever. and so the more you fall in love with someone, the more you naturally (and appropriately, I’d say!) want to have sex with them, because you want to be able to express your longing for that forever. you don’t intend to lie with your body! you want to say what sex says and make it true in the saying of it!

I think the usual Christian response is to say “ah yes, but that forever isn’t yet promised or guaranteed, so you don’t know if it’s ever going to come”. and as much as the person currently head-over-heels in love doesn’t want to hear it, unfortunately it is very real. for every Jack who meets his first serious girlfriend in college, has sex with her because he really wants them to be together forever, and then marries her six years later having had sex with no one but her, there’s just as many (if not more) Jill’s who meets her first serious boyfriend in high school, has sex with him because she really wants them to be together forever, then is blindsided by a breakup and goes on to repeat the pattern with several more boyfriends before she finally finds the “one”. it’s a tragically common story, so common that the trauma of it is becoming harder to recognize. but it causes severe emotional and psychological harm, to give all of yourself to a person hoping for the gift to be received, only to have your whole self be rejected, or trivialized, or used and discarded. it takes tremendous courage for Jill to pick herself up and believe in love again, and often she’s disappointed over and over again. even when the “one” does appear and the gift is finally received completely in marriage, the scars don’t fade completely. I think a lot of people who get their happy ending end up experiencing that phenomenon of psychological backdraft, all their old sexual traumas bubbling up again now that they finally have a healthy sexual experience to know how it should have been. they then have to spend the honeymoon years of their marriage healing from everything that came before. so the usual Christian guidance is “you don’t want to go into marriage with all that baggage, so better to wait just to make sure”.

and while I do think avoiding trauma is generally a good idea, I think this is a little bit of a cop-out. for one thing, it kind of seems to be saying “don’t have sex with your significant other, because you don’t really know if they’re telling the truth about wanting to marry you”—that is, it’s encouraging you to not trust your partner. sure (she said sarcastically), that sounds healthy!! there has to be a better, more loving reason not to have sex with a significant other before marriage. and it’s this: if the Church’s teaching about sex and marriage are really true, then it is just as wrong for Jack to have sex with his girlfriend before marriage as it is for Jill to have sex with her boyfriend—Jack’s eventual marriage to his girlfriend doesn’t retroactively validate every instance of premarital sex! and if Jack having sex with his girlfriend before they got married is wrong, then what we’re saying is it must be hurting them. even though their love story ended happily! even though they did end up giving and receiving the gift of self completely! getting things “out of order” is hurting them and making them unhappy. this is the burden of proof, and it’s much harder than proving Jill’s sexual history is hurting her. and yet if we believe Church teaching, it must be true!

so we return at last to my above point two—in order to exist happily and healthily in the world, we need to speak the truth with our bodies, and not try to twist the language of the body into saying something it isn’t. and here’s the kicker: we are not God. we cannot make a thing so just by saying it. so no matter how understandable it is to try to create a relationship that will last forever by speaking forever with our bodies, it simply does not work that way. when the word is spoken out of the context which makes it true (i.e. when you have sex outside of marriage), it does not and cannot bring that whole context into being—it doesn’t create a vow of fidelity, it doesn’t create a shared life, it doesn’t create a public commitment. someone can have sex with you and then break up with you, someone can have sex with you and then get in their car and go home leaving you there by yourself to sleep alone, someone can have sex with you and then pretend you don’t exist. the sex, on its own, doesn’t create a slippery slope that leads swiftly and inevitably to marriage. it just creates tension between the life you actually have, unmarried, and the unreal life you’re pretending you have in sleeping with one another. it makes all those parts of yourselves that you haven’t shared stand out more strongly, making you feel every little separation as a wound. and instead of creating a sense of peace and security, it leads to a kind of desperate grasping feeling—“we’re acting like us being together forever is a done deal, but it’s not a done deal, it’s not set in stone, so what can I do to make it work, how can I control this, how can I make him want me enough to stay?” even if in the end Jack proposes, the foundation of the relationship has been damaged. it can be healed, and rebuilt! but it is not good for a relationship to develop under that kind of strain. not good, and not necessary.

what’s the alternative? when you wait to have sex until marriage, your dating years with a partner can be years of expectantly looking forward in hope, while also living in the moment. you are not married yet—so your relationship is not set in stone, you’re still deciding what kind of relationship you want to have together, which means it can still get better and better as you build it. talk a LOT! talk about everything! talk about your pasts, talk about your dreams for the future! work out your issues in the present instead of covering them over with physical affection! because you’re not burdened by the anxious desperation to turn a lie into the truth, you will be able to see more clearly what the strengths and the weaknesses of the relationship really are, which allows you to address your weaknesses and work on them! and because you’re not pretending like you’re already totally committed, the prospect of actually making a total commitment will be more and more attractive. when you’re not trying to act like you’re married already, it’s so much easier to have open conversations about the future you want together, and easier to know when it’s time right now to take steps to get there. and that’s exciting! it’s fun to have stuff to look forward to, it’s fun to make plans together!

it’s not a better way because there’s less collateral damage, because you’re hedging your bets playing it safe just in case something goes wrong. it’s a better way because it’s all about letting love develop in its own time, according to its own internal laws. I’m not gonna say “guard your heart”, as if your significant other was an enemy at the gates. instead, “guard your relationship”, because it’s worth protecting, worth giving every chance to be as happy as it can be.

[dolliescries]

BAKING WITH KENTO

ৎ୭ synopsis - house husband Nanami, whose favorite hobby is baking, wants you, his pretty little wife, to taste his new custard cream pie filling.

ৎ୭ wrd count - 721

ৎ୭ house husband series

House husband! nanami who loves his pretty little wife just as much as he loves baking, isn't particularly open about his love for baking like he is for his wife; he enjoys it enough to consider it a hobby.

House husband! Nanami, who's recently been studying a new pie recipe for you to try, and he's almost perfected it, except for the cream filling. For the past week and a half, he's been struggling to find the perfect filling, and as of lately, it's really been annoying him.

House husband! Nanami ears perked up the second he hears the locks on the front door unlocking and soon enough he’s wiping his flour covered hands on his ‘kiss the cook’ apron before heading towards the front door to greet you his lovely wife.

House husband! Nanami who greets you with a look of content as he steps forward to grab your purse with one hand and paper bag filled with groceries in his other hand before setting them down on the console table near the front door.

House husband! Nanami who then helps you take of your coat before tilting his head down slightly and pecking a kiss onto your lips, “how was your day?” he’s asking as he hangs your coat up on the coat rack while you hum thinking about how to answer his question and slipping off your sling back stiletto kitten heels and stepping into your house shoes.

“It was good Ken, Oh! and I just remembered—it's Higuruma's birthday! Make sure to give him a call so he knows you haven't forgotten.” you say as nanami nods his head in remembrance before grabbing the bag of groceries and heading off to the kitchen.

House husband! Nanami not typically one for talking, quickly apologies for the mess he made…The sink holding a small stack of dishes, while flour dusted the dark oak hardwood floors. and bowls of different fruit flavored custard cream fillings just sitting there lined up on the granite island counter top.

“baby you don’t need to apologize, i know how hard you’ve been working lately” you comment softly while sneakily dipping your finger into one of the fillings while his back is turned, you knew your husband could be quite the neat freak so you never minded when nanami made small messes because you know he’d clean up after himself either way.

House husband! Nanami whose ears flushed pink after hearing you call him baby, even though you’ve been married for years he still never got used the the pet names you’d call him…thankfully he was turned around so you wouldn’t be able to how flushed his face was.

“this one needs some vanilla extract” you say after licking the lemon-flavored cream off your finger, the taste was somewhat sour and with the little knowledge of baking you had, you knew adding vanilla would balance the flavor. Honestly, you were surprised that Nanami hadn’t thought of it already.

House husband! Nanami whose left eye twitches slightly after hearing your words, how could he not think to add vanilla of all things.

and now here House husband! Nanami was letting out gruntled groans as he sank himself into the warmth of your cunt, your body was pushed against the granite counter top, black pencil skirt somehow pushed up your to your waist while the sheer stockings your wore were now ripped open with your panties pushed to the side.

needy moans leave your lips as you clench around your husband’s girth, nanami, whose grip on your hair never falters while muttering the nastiest of praises into your ears. You’re practically hanging on by a thread—Nanami stretching out your walls with each thrust and muttering how much he adores and appreciates you and your pussy.

his apron long gone and forgotten to the side, same with the grocery, “kennnnn” you moan out dragging out the n in the little nickname, your so close to reaching your orgasm and nanami knows it, he’s studied everything about you, from how pretty you look cumming on his dick to how your eyes get droopy and your pupils would dilate.

nanami leaned forward feeling himself working through his own and letting his grip on your hair go, another round of gruntled groans leave his mouth as his hot sticky cum shoots into you.

guess you could say your husband’s pie wasn’t the only thing getting filled. <3

[jarofstyles]

Benefits

Hi lovebugs! This can be read as a standalone, but this is a 3 parter. The first part will be put up here but the next two are Patreon exclusives if you’re interested. (Part two is up now) I hope you guys love it.

Check out our Patreon for part two and 220+ exclusive writings

WC- 6.6k

Warnings- Asshole-ish H, smut, slight degrading, oral, slight possessiverry, etc

She knew he was watching.

A subtle smirk played on her lips as she helped herself to a drink in the kitchen, nearly able to feel the man’s eyes on her as he traced her dress. One she wore just for him, but would never admit to. He wasn’t good about hiding how much he watched her, how much he had been curious about her, but he hadn’t talked much to her. Only stared.

She'd been warned that Harry was a man of few words. He didn't go out of his way to talk, he was the stereotype of tall, dark, handsome and dangerous-but it's exactly what she's been craving. Twisting the lid back onto the mixer, she finally raised the cup to her lips as she turned around to face him. He wasn't hiding the fact that he was watching her. His eyes didn't stray. He liked that she didn't waver in her staring back, too. Y/N could tell.

It had been a long time since a man had properly excited her. She wasn’t exactly the easiest to please, if she was being honest. Y/N got bored easily, she liked to play games, to test people to see if they could handle her- but something about Harry had her fully understanding that he could handle her, no problem. Maybe it was just the look in his eyes that told her he was intrigued by her but also wanted to eat her alive, but she quite liked it.

Her eyes flirted with his, as she slowly took a sip, her throat bobbing delicately. "I think you're enjoying the view." Her voice was sultry, a taunt. She was baiting him, daring him to respond, to engage. The game of cat and mouse had been fun, but she wanted to be caught. "You're not very good at hiding it."

“M’not trying to hide it.” His raspy voice made her internally peek up. She’d only heard it a handful of times but each one had nearly had her purring. The man had the voice of her wet dreams, and she sort of hated how he was checking off boxes she had purposely put too high.

A small smirk played on her lips as she set the cup down, her hands moving to rest on the counter. She leaned forward, her arms stretching out in front of her, very aware she was very generously handing over a view of her chest for him to glaze over. "Is that so?" She asked, matching his tone. "You're just going to stand there and stare at me then?" The challenge was laid out softly, despite the tension in the room.

“Mm. I was enjoying the view.” His body was leaned against the cabinets of the kitchen, no shame at all in admitting the fact. “Think y’like when I look.”

Her eyes traveled up his face and met his eyes, a slow blink the only reaction to his words. She liked it, damn it. She liked being the focus of his attention, even if he wasn't saying anything particularly sweet or romantic. There was something about his blunt honesty that drew her in. "And what if I told you I don't like it?" She asked, her voice a gentle purr. "What would you do then?"

“I’d tell you t’stop looking like that and maybe we could come to an agreement.” His eyes kept contact with no issue, challenging her back. “I know you’ve been looking back at me when y’think I’m not going to notice.”

God, he was hot. It was infuriating, really. Men weren’t supposed to effect her like this. She’d always had the upper hand, but this one had her wavering as she reached up to twist a strand of her hair around her finger. "And what kind of agreement would that be?" She asked with a soft tilt to her voice. She loved the way he spoke, the way his accent rolled off his tongue. It was so…different to the general population of men she was used to. Some could accuse her of being excited over having a new flavor at her fingertips, but Y/N would argue that anyone who got a few moments alone with him would feel that level of excitement prickle their nerves. "One where I stop looking at you and you start talking to me?" The girl suggested, the small smirk playing on her lips growing.

“Perhaps.” Crossing his arms, he stood up off the counter and slowly sauntered over to her. “Was tryin’ to figure you out. Don’t get new additions in the group often, and you’re different than the people we’re usually around.” His tall form had her lifting her head a bit to keep his eyes as he stopped in front of her.

 She’d been right. He was taller than she’d thought, and broader. The man had kept a physical distance before, but now she was feeling the effects of him dropping that barrier. He was just so…large. And it made her feel small, which was a feeling she rarely experienced. "And what have you figured out?" She asked softly, tilting her head to the side as her eyes fluttered to his lips briefly before meeting his eyes again.

“I’ve figured out a couple of things.” Taking another step forward he gave her the chance to move if she wanted- but she didn’t. Backing against the counter, she didn’t shy away from him. “Mostly that you’re a little bit bratty, but you aren’t fake. You’ve been mostly nice t’everyone.” It had been a relief. Harry wouldn’t have been shy about calling her out on ulterior motives, but he only knew of one- and it had come after she’d already met everyone. “And you want me t’fuck you.”

She swallowed hard, her heart in her throat as he took another step forward. Again, she could have moved, but she didn't. Instead, she stayed put, her back against the counter as she met his gaze. His words were blunt, and she liked that about him. Most people would sugarcoat things, but not him. "And what if I do?" She asked, her voice faltering slightly for the first time in a long time. It was so different, but...She liked it. He had managed to get her to feel something different. Naturally making her feel a little more submissive when she had been so used to taking in the opposite role. 

“I’d fuck you.” Harry rose a shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve wanted to do it since I met you. Had to figure out if you were someone who was going to stick around.” The tension was thick between them. “I don’t usually fuck people just once. Don't like to think with my dick. But I think you’d want it more than once.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the heat pooling between her legs at his words. She’d known he wanted her by the way he had looked at her body, but hearing him say it out loud had her insides quivering. He was so…crude and it was so hot. "I’d want it more than once." She admitted breathlessly. She wasn’t one to shy away from the fact. "And how many times do you think it would be?"

“I’m not in the business of letting you nut off and fuck off. If m’fucking you, you’ll be in my bed for hours. I don’t go easy.” It was the truth she needed to hear. Harry wasn’t one to half ass sex, and considering he’d been letting the want fester for a bit now, he had plenty of things he wanted to do for her. “Is that something you can handle?”

Her throat was dry, her voice hoarse as she responded, "Hours? That sounds...nice." She wanted to tell him that she could handle anything he threw at her, but she knew he'd only call her bluff. She'd never had a man talk to her like this before when she had confidence he could actually back up the claims, and it was exciting. Y/N wanted to know what else he'd say, what else he'd do. "And if I can't? What happens then?"

“Then I’ll walk away and let you continue your night. M’not going to do any of that if it isn’t what you can take, or isn’t what you want.” He made no effort to move, though, because he already knew what her answer is going to be. “You’re not gonna make it weird for everyone else in the group after we fuck, yeah? You’ll be able to behave yourself whenever we go out for the stupid dinners and drinks?”

She swallowed hard, his words making her feel things she hadn't felt in a long time. The way he was talking to her, the intensity in his eyes, it was all so new and thrilling. "I can handle anything you give me." She said softly, her voice filled with a confidence she didn't quite feel but wanted to project. "And I can behave myself. I'm not some teenager who's going to go running to the group about this."

“Just got t’be sure, Cherry.” Lifting a finger up towards her bottom lip, he smeared the lipstick with his thumb before pulling it back. “You don’t seem to be the kiss and tell type, but you never know.”

Her eyes fluttered closed briefly as his thumb brushed against her bottom lip, again the action so simple yet so hot. A little invasive- in a good way. She couldn't help but part her lips slightly, inviting him to touch her more. "I'm not. And besides, who would I tell?" She asked softly.

“That’s the right answer.” He sighed, taking a second to look over his shoulder and back to her face. “C’mon then. M’not fucking you here. Don’t want you to have to keep quiet. If I’m fucking you, I want to hear you.” Curling his hand around the back of her neck, he brought her out the back door. “S’a short walk.”

——-

He had a nice house. Smaller, with a porch and garage. Newly painted, lawn maintained and a little tree in the front. It wasn’t the bachelor pad she had expected, but she really didn’t know that much about him- did she? That was becoming more apparent the longer she spent near him. 

“C’mon. Inside.” He unlocked the door and ushered her in, relieving them from the chill of the night. “Shouldn’t go out without a jacket next time.” The grumble seemed to make her laugh as he tossed his keys into the bowl, kicking his shoes haphazardly on the mat. She hadn’t expected to go on a stroll, so she had left the jacket in her car- but he didn’t really care about that. “Do you want a drink? Or do you just want to get into it?”

Her eyes scanned the cozy interior of his home, taking her even further by surprise. No, it wasn’t the bachelor pad at all. It was tidy and clean, with a few personal touches that gave her a glimpse into what was probably his actual personality. She noticed a guitar in the corner, a few books on a shelf, and a framed photo on the mantle that she couldn’t quite make out. “Huh?” The place had warmth she hadn’t expected to see, and the distraction was evident as she vaguely heard him ask something.

“Do you want me t’get you a drink, or do you want me to get to fucking you?”

Her attention snapped back to him, his words making her blush. Honestly? She really did love how blunt he could be, no sugarcoating or beating around the bush. It was so common to have people be coy about what they wanted, but then again Harry wasn’t anything close to most people she had met.  "Oh, um, I think I'll go with the second option," Her words came out slightly shy, with a hesitant smile. She looked around the room again, taking in the details, before her gaze landed back on him. "But first, can I ask you something?"

“Yeah.” He grunted, taking a step into her space and putting his hands on her waist as he backed her further into the home. “Make it quick. Dick’s fucking aching.”

Her breath hitched as he moved closer, his hands on her waist making her feel small and delicate. She licked her lips, hesitation flickering in her eyes before she asked, "It’s just…Why me? You've barely said two words to me before tonight. And now...here we are." She trailed off, nibbling her lip. A nervous tell.

“Because I was trying t’see if you were someone that was going to stick around.” He said bluntly. “Lots of people pop in and back out. Didn’t know if you’d be one of the floaters. Got to watch you and see how you were before I talked to you. I wanted to see what you’d say.” While some could call it a little creepy, he’d more so put it as educating himself for the best result. “Wasn’t sure you’d be okay with me fucking you. Some people can’t handle me or how I talk. You’re a sweet little thing but I can tell you like some of the nasty shit. So we’d most likely get along.”

She blinked at him, processing his blunt words. A small, almost imperceptible shiver ran through her body at his assessment. He had been watching her, evaluating her...and apparently found her worthy of letting her see a whole different side of him. Y/N hadn’t pushed her luck in regard to asking about him but she figured there wasn’t much people would say anyways. It was obvious to her through her own observations that he had been quiet about a lot on purpose. Considering there were a few people in the group that did indeed find him incredibly attractive, it was more than exciting that he had chosen her- mirrored her own quiet interest. The thought sent a thrill down her spine. 

"I...I appreciate your thoroughness," she said, a slight tremor in her voice, though trying to still appear confident in the way she had tried to portray. It wasn’t an act- she really was like that- but Harry had that little edge to him that made her want to soften up. "And you're right, I can handle you. I like a man who knows what he wants."

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “And what do you want, specifically?” Her voice was low, almost breathy as she looked up at him. “With me?” His words had given her a lot to think about. The way he had evaluated her, the way he had found her worthy all while barely knowing her, and the way he had so bluntly admitted that he wanted her around for more than just a one-night stand. But she wanted to hear it all.

“I want to have an arrangement between the two of us. Told you, m’not someone who fucks people once. Not sure if m’looking for a relationship, but I want to like the person I’m fucking.” It was convinent for a release, having an understanding. “We’ve obviously got physical chemistry, find each other attractive and have the same friends. I think…” He leaned his face closer to hers. “We should be friends that fuck. Often.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze locked onto his. "Friends with benefits," she clarified softly. "No strings attached, but...exclusivity?" She wanted to know that she was the only one he was sleeping with, even if they weren't in a traditional relationship. "And we can still hang out with our mutual friends, just...without them knowing the details?" She bit her lip, considering the proposition.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me, I don’t have the time to find other people to fuck. Work a lot, and I’ve got particular taste. I don’t want to worry about you fucking around either. Too much shit goes around. Eventually I’d like to ditch the condoms.” He shrugged, firmly gripping her waist to pick her up and set her on the hallway table. “It’ll be nice. You can just… Call me when you need to be fucked. I’ll call you. Scratch the itch. The rest don’t have to know a thing.”

She let out a soft sigh as he set her on the table, her arms wrapping around his neck as he towered over her. "Alright," she agreed, her heart racing at the thought of being exclusive with him. "Just you and me, no strings, no other people involved." She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. "And...no labels either, right? We're just friends who fuck, nothing more."

“Right. As long as you know that cunt’s mine to fuck for now, I’m happy.” He chuckled under his breath, nudging her thighs apart. “You wore this dress for me, didn’t you?” Fingers dragged up her inner thigh as he questioned her. “Cause you wanted my attention.”

She let her legs fall open, her breath hitching as he nudged her thighs apart. Her heart fluttered at his words, her insides clenching at the possessiveness in his voice. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew she had. When the confirmation that he had been coming had been dropped in the group text, she had taken getting ready a bit more seriously. Though she hadn’t expected this to be the outcome. Not in the slightest. "Yes, it was for you," she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper as he touched her thigh. "I hoped you’d like it.” She squirmed, her legs spreading further. "Did you?

“Decided to take you home, didn’t I?” Shaking his head, he let out a sigh as he watched her squirm. “Course I fuckin’ liked it. But you’ve been taunting me, and you weren’t subtle about it either. Figured I had to ask you now.” Ghosting his fingertips along the hem of her panties, he tangled his other hand in the ends of her hair to tug her head back. “Could tell you were starting to get a little desperate.”

She moaned softly as he pulled her head back, her eyes fluttering closed briefly before locking onto his again. "Well, you were staring at me like you wanted to eat me alive," she retorted, her voice breathy. "So...yeah, maybe I was getting a little desperate." She bit her lip, shifting her hips forward. "So, are you going to touch me now?"

His touch was gentle, almost torturously so, as he ran his fingertips over the damp fabric. His eyes were locked onto hers, watching her reactions intently. "You're so eager. Though m’not so sure I like the sass. I’ll do as I like, and you can tell me how good it feels." he murmured, his thumb pressing down on her through the thin material. "I bet you're dripping, aren't you?" His touch grew firmer, ever so slowly rubbing his thumb over her clit.

Her breath hitched, her hips bucking forward to meet his touch. She hadn’t been sure how he would be in this sort of scenario, but it was better than she imagined. It took a special sort of man to make her feel even the slightest bit submissive and she almost melting. "Y-yes," she stammered, her voice slightly shaky. It was embarrassing how wet she got for him before he’d even touched her. "I'm...I'm soaking for you." Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as her head fell back against the wall.

She could feel his touch like a brand through the thin fabric, her legs spreading wider to grant him better access. Her breath came in short gasps, her chest heaving with each breath. "Please," she whimpered, her hips moving in rhythm with his touch. "It's not enough..."

“Greedy.” He laughed through his nose. “I was curious how you’d be once I got my hands on you. You talk a big game, like t’be a tease… but in reality, you’re a desperate little slut, hm?” It was the most he’s ever spoken to her, but she couldn’t complain when his words went straight to her cunt.

"I can’t help it! You started it.” She gasped as he found a rhythm, her body tensing as his fingers tugged the panties to the side, slipping under the fabric. "Oh god…” She moaned, her body tensing as his calloused fingertips grazed her bare flesh.  His words made her squirm, her body trembling as he slid a long, thick finger inside her.

“I didn’t start anything.” His voice was contained, even as he spoke with the smug little smirk on his face. “I told you, I needed t’figure you out. I hoped you’d be like this…” Looking down to where his hand was hidden between her legs, slowly pushing his finger in and out of her sopping wet cunt, he licked over his bottom lip. “Desperate. Melt at the slightest touch. You rejected everyone who came up to you at the bars when they wanted to take you home but you love t’flirt. You knew they wouldn’t be able to give you what you needed- so you waited for me to move in.”

"Mmmm…” She let out a moan as he slipped another finger inside her. "They can’t handle me. They want to try but I don’t want someone to try- I want them to do it.” she whimpered, rocking her hips into his hand. "You’re wrong, you did start it.” She gasped out, her back arching as he crooked his fingers to graze against that sweet spot inside her. "You walked in and you...you just stared at me like you owned me.”

“Because I did.” He leaned forward, letting their lips brush. “And now I do. This wet little cunt is mine to fuck for now. Got all slick before I had even laid my hands on you, fucking filthy.” He sneered. “Listen to that.” The sound of his fingers fucking into her were audible beneath her pants.

The squelching sound of his fingers pumping in and out of her quivering hole echoed through the room, a lewd melody that grew louder with each thrust. Her own wetness made his digits glisten, the sound of her coating his skin becoming embarrassingly audible. Every push into her tight hole was met with a wet slap of his palm over her clit, punctuated by her short breaths and gasps.

"It is your fault!" She hissed, her voice strained as she tried to keep quiet. "You kept staring at me like…like you wanted to devour me. It's not fair!" Her hips jerked forward as he increased the pace, her hand flying to his shoulders to steady herself. "You're gonna make me come like this." She hissed, her nails digging into his shirt.

“Then cum.” He taunted. “If it’s all my fault that your desperate pussy got all sloppy and wet, cum on my fingers and show me that then. Barely even touched you and you’re clenching all around my fingers.”

Her breath hitched, her face flushing with heat. "Oh god, shut up..." She hissed, her hips bucking against his hand as he curled his fingers inside her, getting the spot she couldn’t get on her own. "H-Harry… Fuck." She let out a high-pitched cry as she finally shattered, her inner muscles tightening around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Her body trembled as the intense pressure building inside her finally broke. Her inner walls clamped down around his fingers, squeezing them as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. The lewd sounds of his digits moving in and out of her drenched opening grew louder as she writhed against his hand, soaking his skin. Without thinking, she buried her face against his neck, muffling her whimpers as the peak of her climax washed over her.

"There y’go. Filthy girl, making a mess of my hand.” He coaxed, slowing his fingers down but rubbing right against the spongy spot in her cunt to make it last. “That’s what you needed, wasn’t it?”

"Mmm, yes." She mumbled against his neck, her breath hitching as aftershocks wracked her body. "Please...please no more..." She whimpered, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she clung to him, boneless and spent. "It's too much." Her voice was soft, vulnerable.

“I think you can take more.” He said with a laugh, but pulled his fingers out anyway. “But since m’nice, I’ll give you a second. I’ll go easy on you since it’s the first time we’re fucking, but next time m’not stopping. You’ll keep cumming.” Harry had plenty of plans for her, she had no clue how much he’d been planning on this. “C’mon.” Scooping her up easily, he had her wrap her legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders as he carried her through the house.

"You’re insufferable.” She muttered, her head nuzzling against his neck as her body trembled in the aftermath of her release. She let out a soft squeak as he easily picked her up, her face flushed as she hid it. "Where are we going?” She asked, her voice soft. "I can walk, you know...” Y/N trailed off, her face flushing. "I’m not light, either.”

“Shut the fuck up with that. M’holding you, and m’not struggling.” He grunted, giving her ass a swat as he kicked open the door to his bedroom. “Bringing you to my room. Since your cunt needs a second, figured it’s nicer on your knees if you’re kneeling on my carpet t’suck me off.” The bluntness showed its head again as he felt her pull her face from his neck. “Been thinking about you getting that lipstick you keep wearin’ all over my cock.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing darker. "Oh...” She trailed off, licking her lips unconsciously as her gaze lowered to his crotch. "You mean like this?” She asked, her voice soft and sultry as she slid down his body to land on her feet. She slowly sank to her knees, her hands resting on his thighs. "Maybe I will, maybe I won’t..."

“I think you will. You’ve been gagging for it.” His hands grabbed the buckle of his belt as she looked up at him on her knees, the picture absolutely perfect. “You look awfully good there. Think you were made to be on your knees for me.” Depositing the leather onto the floor, he reached for her face and let his thumb smear her cherry red lipstick. “Go on. Undo my trousers, take my cock out. Know it’s what y’want. Don’t have to play coy with me.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as he smeared her lipstick, her tongue darting out to lick at her lips. "Mmm, you think so?” She cooed, her hands moving to his fly. She deftly undid the button and zipper, her slender fingers pushing the fabric down his hips. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the bulge in his boxers, her voice low. "Maybe…” Her breath hitched as she felt the warmth of his body through the fabric. "Maybe I'll take your cock out and give it a little kiss first," she whispered, her hands gripping the elastic waistband, slowly pulling them down to help his cock out.

She looked up at him through her lashes, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips once more. His cock was thick, the head flushed a ruddy red. Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, feeling the heat radiating from him. "So big and hard for me." she purred, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. Brushing her tongue around the sensitive tip, she smeared the precum that had leaked out. Looking up at him, she felt the thrill in her stomach as his eyes darkened with lust as he watched her. She opened her mouth, slowly lathing her tongue lick up and down his shaft from base to tip.

“There y’go.” He breathed, gathering her hair in a loose excuse for a ponytail. The red had transferred some to his cock and he loved the vision. He’d thought about it more times than he could count. “One day, think I should film this. Let you see how pretty you look on your knees.” He murmured, watching as her tongue ran back over the slit. “Get it wet.”

Humming in approval at his words, her tongue continuing to lap at his length, eyes fluttered closed as she felt his hand tighten in her hair. “I would like that.” Continuing to lick him, her tongue traced the ridges and veins of his cock before she looked up at him, wrapping her lips around the tip.

“Good.” He grunted as he felt the plushness of her lips take the head of him into her mouth, the slow pull of the suction. “Take a little more. Know you’ve been thinking about sucking this cock. Show me.”

As he spoke, she listened, taking more of him into her mouth. Unfortunately, she was not as immune to him as she had tried to be. It seemed she had met her match, wanting to please him in ways she usually scoffed at with any other man. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard as she bobbed her head up and down, doing the work she needed to make him pleased. Her hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with her mouth as she looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, her throat working around his thickness.

“Oh, fuck.” He laughed deeply, head tilting back as she showed him what he had asked for. “Thatta’ girl. Knew you had it in you. Shit.” He cursed under his breath as the heat of her mouth welcomed him, taking him much better than he had anticipated.

She could feel his hands in her hair, guiding her pace, making sure she was taking him just right. The salty taste of his precum mixed with the musky scent of his arousal was intoxicating, making her head spin. She looked up at him, her lips stretched around his girth, and saw the raw desire in his eyes. It only fueled her own hunger, making her suck him even harder, desperate to please him.

Y/N moaned around his cock as he bottomed out in her throat, the vibrations traveling up his shaft. Her nose pressed against his pelvis as she swallowed around him, her throat constricting to make him hiss. She held herself there, savoring the feeling of being so completely filled by him before slowly pulling back to catch her breath. Strings of saliva connected her lips to his spit-shined cock.

His face contorted with pleasure as she deep-throated him, a guttural groan escaping his lips. "God, you're so good at that." Harry praised, his hands fisting her hair tighter. His hips bucked forward, meeting her bobbing head, the wet sounds of her mouth filling the room. His breathing grew heavier, chests heaving as he struggled to maintain control. "You’re gonna be a lot of fun to fuck, aren’t you?”

“Mhm.” With a messy pop, she pulled his cock out of her mouth, saliva dripping from his glistening tip. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with lust, before leaning forward and spitting directly onto his cock. The mess hit him dripping over the side, making him hiss in surprise. Rubbing her saliva into his cock, she coated him in it as she smirked up. Getting him to react was a reward. He had barely said anything to anyone, and she was the one getting him to groan and hiss. Sue her for feeling a little special. “Think it’s wet enough?” She purred, coy as she looked at him through his lashes.

Before she could say another word, Harry grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, his mouth crashing against hers in a searing kiss. His tongue pushed past her lips, making her moan in surprise. Was he good at everything? She could taste herself on him, the salty sweetness of her saliva mixing with the heat of his own mouth. Biting down on her lower lip, he pulled it gently between his teeth before letting go.

 "You talk too much."

Her breath hitched as he spoke against her mouth, his voice low and commanding. She could only manage a whimper in response, her knees growing weak. He took advantage of her parted lips and weakened stance, slipping his hands around to squeeze her ass, pulling her flush against him so she could feel him against her tummy. "But you're right," he murmured, voice roughened by desire. "You've made quite a mess. Think you’re ready to take my cock?"

She nodded eagerly, her eyes locked onto his intense gaze. "Then turn around and bend over the bed," he ordered, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. She quickly complied, feeling a rush of cool air against her bare backside as she leaned forward, gripping the bed sheets tightly. 

As she leaned her chest further into the bed, she felt the soft fabric of the comforter against her breasts, her hard nipples grazing against it. Every sensation felt a little overwhelming, but in a good way. It had been a long time coming considering how she had tried to navigate how to work up how to simply talk to Harry, and now he was her supposed friends with benefits. Patience was wearing thin.  Swaying her ass enticingly, wanting to give him a good show- make him break. The room was filled with the sound of her shallow breathing, her chest heaving as she tried to regulate her breathing. Behind her, she could hear the crinkle of plastic as he sheathed himself in a condom.

She could imagine how Harry must look right now, his dark eyes fixed on her ass as he prepared himself. The thought sent her reeling. If only she had eyes on the back of her head. Feeling him step close, his body heat radiating off of himself and into her bare skin, she lifted her hips slightly, trying to guide his cock to press against her soaked entrance.

Harry's strong hands gripped her hips firmly, guiding her movements and controlling the pace. control- he was exercising the control that she clearly did not have. She felt the tip of his prick slowly push against her, inch by agonizing inch. Gasping, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets as she stretched to accommodate his size. The sensation was intense, bordering on overwhelming, but she welcomed it nonetheless, pushing back against him to encourage him to continue. "Oh, fucks sake.” She sulked into the mattress.

,"It’s not fair. You can’t.. You’re not supposed t’have such a big dick when you act like one.”  Her words came out in a string of stuttered moans as he seated himself fully inside her, his hips flush against her ass. He gave a low, satisfied chuckle, his body tensing as he held himself deep inside her.  She felt her insides clench around him, her body instinctively trying to adjust to his size. “Oh, no? You don’t like it?”

She shook her head vehemently, biting her lip as she felt him throb inside her. "N-no, I love it. I fucking love it." She admitted breathlessly, her voice thick with need. "It's just not...fair that you get to have such a perfect cock and you waited so long to give it to me." She punctuated her words with a roll of her hips, relishing the drag of his thick length against her walls.

Her insides felt like a silken vice around him, pulsating rhythmically as if trying to milk him despite him not being inside her long enough to do so.  Her body was already betraying her as her walls quivered around him, her inner muscles fluttering as if trying to entice him to move, to draw him in deeper. Her body was warm, and she was tight, gripping him as if she hadn’t been with anyone in years.

A smug grin spread across his face as he let out a low, satisfied groan from deep within his chest. “Well, m’sorry, babe. Had t’make sure you’d be a good fit for my cock. I think I made the right call, though. Tight little thing, squeezing me the way I like.” He taunted, his voice laced with amusement. His hands tightened on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he slowly began to move within her. "You like how I fill you up?" He punctuated his words with slow, measured thrusts, his voice growing hoarser as she clenched around him.

When she struggled to answer, he let out a laugh instead. He continued to speak for her, his voice a low, husky rumble as he slowly pumped into her. "Yeah, y’like being stuffed full of my cock. Like how it stretches you open and makes you feel so fucking small." He teased, his fingers digging into her hips as he picked up his pace slightly. "Barely able to talk back to me when I know you love to run that filthy mouth. Must be because you’re not used to being filled like this.”

She mewled, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. He was right. Embarrassingly so. The wet squelch of his cock plunging in and out of her filled the room, mixing with the erotic symphony of their moans and groans. He could feel her getting more slick, her arousal coating his shaft and dripping down onto his balls. "That's it, take it deep like that. You like to play tough, but you just want t’be a good girl for me. Isn’t that right?"

Her response was a strangled cry, her pussy fluttering around him as if to agree. He grunted in approval, his hips snapping forward to fill her again. "Good girl," he praised darkly. "You're doing so well. Such a good little thing, taking me so well. Now answer me.” The croon was soft, a direct opposite to his pace. “Gonna let me fuck you when I want, mm? Gonna call me when y’need it too?”

She keened, her voice echoing in the room. "Y-Yes please... I- I'll call you. I'll be good. I'll... I'll let you. I'll let you whenever you want!" Her words came out disjointed, broken up by his thrusts growing a bit harder, jostling her where she laid. Her hands fisted the sheets beneath her, her knuckles turning white as she tried to keep herself grounded.

"That’s a good fuckin’ girl. You're gonna be so well-behaved for me, aren't you?" He cooed, his voice a soothing contrast to the growing brutal pace of his hips. One hand slid up her back, pressing between her shoulder blades to keep her arched as he took his pleasure from her. "You're mine t’play with now, understand? This pretty little cunt belongs to me." As he continued to pound into her, she felt a sense of contentment wash over her. This was exactly what she needed - someone to take control, to make her feel desired and owned. And Harry was perfect for the job. They were going to be lovely friends, with many benefits. As she teetered on the edge of her climax, she felt a sense of peace settle over her, knowing that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

[the-octopus-queer]

like if you’re intentional about it, if you practice in using the right pronouns/name in your head, it’s really not that difficult.

my dad is actually amazing about using my pronouns but my mom is tends to say misgender people while talking about them being trans even if she had been told on several occasions how they should be referred to. she’s trying but to still hurts

i wish more people would realize how important it is to much and how much it makes trans ppl feel seen when not misgendered. if older generations are able to adapt to using modern tech and everything that changed with it, they can spare a little time to get someone’s pronouns right.

sometimes i see cis people say "trans people will understand if you misgender them at first. i call my nephew 'her' all the time and he knows i don't mean it" no he doesnt. he probably never hangs out with you for more than ten minutes because that's how long you can last in a conversation before making him feel like shit. also he thinks you're, best case scenario, stupid for not being able to figure it out, or worst case scenario, uncaring about him and his needs. he doesn't like spending time with you. you're deluding yourself into thinking you're far kinder than you are. you're weird man.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Steve Harrington x Reader • mention of alcohol, semi-public sex, Steve’s horny & unhinged (same, honestly) oral (f receiving) unprotected sex, cum play, squirting, vaginal fingering

Steve hates attending dinner parties, and you hate hosting them. But with the first anniversary of your marriage approaching, your friends insisted there should be some kind of a celebration. Since the event was celebrating something as personal as your marriage, you chose to host the event at your home. Steve’s friends and yours are currently gathered in the dining room. The house is spotless; the food has been catered and tastes delicious. Your guests are chatting and getting along just fine, making easy conversation between themselves. Everything would be going great, if your husband wasn’t in such an…amorous mood. Because it’s becoming increasingly difficult to focus on the conversation around you while Steve’s fingers are moving between your legs under the table…

You smile politely, trying to keep it together for your guests. Steve has a complete poker face, taking generous sips of wine and cracking jokes with his buddies like nothing’s happening. Above the table, everything looks innocent; but with your laps hidden beneath it, your husband has free rein to work you into a mess in front of everyone.

You could end his teasing if you wanted to. A little swat of Steve’s hand and a stern ‘look,’ would be enough to make him cease his torment. But you don’t want him to stop. He’s rubbing your clit through your panties, your pussy swollen and aching under Steve’s touch. It started with him playfully stroking your knee, his hand gradually traveling up your skirt and between your thighs. Now, Steve’s got you so worked up that your clit is pulsing against his fingertips.

He’s able to hold his composure just fine until he makes one mistake that breaks him. As his fingers slip inside the crotch of your panties and Steve feels just how fucking soaked you are, he loses his focus completely. The words he’s saying die on his tongue mid-sentence, all the blood rushing from his head to his cock. You smile a little to yourself, happy to see that the playing field has been evened a bit. King Steve isn’t quite the master of self control he seems to think he is. You notice the muscles in his jaw tense in an effort to complete his train of thought, when you know all he can think about is how wet you are for him. As Steve presses his fingers lower, you intentionally adjust yourself in your seat to invite his fingers just inside you. Steve’s whole body jerks as his fingertips are now poised at your entrance; a little pressure is all it would take for him to be inside you now. You’re so fucking wet, he could easily wear you on his fingers right there at the table if he wanted to.

But he doesn’t. He clears his throat, composing himself, removing his hand from between your legs and subtly adjusting himself under the table. You watch him take another sip from his glass and reach for a napkin, pretending to need it. Steve’s fingers are glistening with your arousal; you watch as he subtly brings them to his nose, patting the napkin to his lips, his eyes fluttering when he catches your scent. Despite his best efforts, Steve is now struggling to hold a conversation with your guests, let alone make himself a charming host. You take pity on him, knowing how uncomfortable his cock must be straining against his pants, how badly you both need to relieve yourselves. “Steve?” you say at his ear, and he immediately responds with a breathy “yeah?”

“Can you help me finish up desert?” you ask. Steve nods readily, pushing his chair back and discarding the napkin onto his mostly-emptied plate. He turns away from the table as he leaves his chair, concealing his obvious erection. Steve excuses himself and follows you like a puppy to the kitchen, right on your heels. He reaches for your waist as you round the corner into the kitchen. You swat his hand away with a giggle, which doesn’t dissuade Steve, who reaches for your ass instead. You’ve led him through the kitchen and down the hall, lingering with him in your bedroom doorway. You peek past Steve’s shoulder toward the dining room, listening to your guests talking. Steve guides one hand along your arm, his other gently kneading your ass. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you whisper through a grin. Steve draws back his hand and gives your ass a hard spank! , the cracking sound so loud that he briefly looks behind him to make sure no one heard. As the conversation in the dining room continues uninterrupted, Steve turns his face back to yours, all humor removed from his expression. With a dark, lustful tone, he quietly orders you: “Inside. On the bed. Now.”

You let yourself land back on the bed as Steve closes the door behind you both, locking it. He climbs on top of you, his thighs framing yours. You reach for his belt and so does he, your fingers fumbling together. His breath and yours are uneven, impatient. You tug down Steve’s zipper and with a groan of relief, his hand closes around his stiff cock, pumping up and down his shaft as his other hand snakes up your skirt. He grips the waistband of your panties and yanks them down, the elastic tearing in protest. “Shit,” Steve curses. “Sorry.” You shush him with a kiss, gripping his shoulders and pulling him in close. His hands grope down your body to your hips, spreading them wider. Steve trails kisses down your stomach, pushing up the bottom of your dress around your waist. You let your head rest back on the pillow as Steve nestles his face between your thighs. He doesn’t give you a chance to prepare, delving the tip of his tongue immediately inside you.

Your body jerks in response, a gasp shuddering up from your chest. You clench the shoulders of his dress shirt, bunching the fabric in your fists. Steve nuzzles his nose against your clit, his tongue lapping between your walls. The sound of your wetness is audible as Steve’s tongue works your juices in and out of your cunt, his chin dripping with you. He’s kneeling beside the bed, pumping his cock in his fist while he eats you. Your eyes are on the ceiling, your mind in a blissful haze as Steve takes what he needs from you. The first flutters of orgasm begin tickling deep in your belly, ushered in by the steady lap of Steve’s tongue pulsing inside you.

He knows you’re close, knows every bit of your body and its signals, almost better than you know yourself. Steve adds a finger inside you as well, reaching the parts of you his tongue couldn’t. Pleasure seizes you, your back arching involuntarily, heels kicking into the bed as you thrash. Steve releases his cock and clamps his arm over your waist, holding you in place as you come. He moans into your pussy, words your mind can’t understand but your body knows instinctively, his breath spraying your wetness on your thighs as he pants between them. Steve rises to his feet, his hand returning to his cock. You reach for him, but he breathlessly tells you “no, no baby, stay there, just like that.” Steve’s forehead is damp with sweat, his nose and chin slathered in you. He moves his free hand between your legs, using his fingertips to spread your labia, his eyes honing in on your slick, puckering hole like a predator eyeing its prey.

With a low groan, Steve empties his release onto you, spattering your cunt in his cum. He keeps your lips spread, watching his seed land on and just inside your cunt. Steve uses his fingers to slather his cum all over you, slipping two fingers inside you easily. He climbs back over you, wrapping his arm around your neck, pulling your body into his in an intimate embrace. Steve fucks his cum deep inside you with his fingers, an audible sloshing sound coaxing up from between your legs. You choke out a cry of relief as a second climax consumes you, your cunt fluttering and squeezing around Steve’s fingers. He buries his face between your legs again, lapping up your orgasm. You rut yourself against the bridge of Steve’s nose, smearing his face again with your cum, like a dog marking what belongs to it. He rests awhile between your legs, his cheek relaxed against your warm, sticky thigh.

The pair of you almost fall asleep like this, with your arms splayed out above you and Steve’s head resting between your legs. Just before dozing off, you remember that friends are still hanging out in your dining room. You pat Steve’s shoulder and point past him to the door. “People,” you remind him, sliding off the bed. Steve doesn’t seem to be in the hurry that you are as he watches you adjust your dress and smooth your hair in the mirror. You catch him watching you with a satisfied grin on his lips, and turn to face him. “What?” you ask, matching his smile.

Steve leaves the bed and approaches you at the mirror, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He nestles his chin in the crook of your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss there. “I was just thinking,” he replies, his breath warming your skin. “That girl in the mirror-” Steve points his index finger at your reflection. “-That girl, right there…” He purses his lips against your neck again, once, twice, three times. “…That’s my dream girl right there,” Steve murmurs softly. “Her husband’s the luckiest guy in the whole damn world…”

@hippiegoth97 @octobertales @buckysgrace @loserboysandlithium @professionalpromqueen @southerngothicchic @stuffedwithsteve @thecreelhouse @heartbreak-sandwich @whenisthefall @probablyin-bed

[burningembers91]

Gunpowder and Lace - The Salesman x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

Freak of Nature On Display A Game of Cat and Mouse Crime of Passion Rare

Synopsis: Determined to level the playing field, you take The Salesman to places he's never been

A/N: I honestly don't know who i become when i write for this man, this piece is unhinged and i regret nothing. I also know this character never has his real name revealed, but for the purposes of the storyline, I had to make one up.

This fic is also inspired by the insanity that is this gif:

He was desperate to be back in control. That night in the restaurant had taken him by surprise, had left his mind reeling. You’d left him lying there on the floor like yesterday’s trash, saying goodbye without a second glance back at him. You’d humiliated him, left him to clean himself up and hastily pay the bill before he was found naked on the floor, shaking from pleasure and rage. No one had treated him like this before, no had ever been this bold before. The women he’d played with in the past, they’d always been scared him; but not you. You seemed to enjoy this torture, seemed to enjoy being pushed. He was sure the meal would break you, but it only seemed to make you stronger.

He was so desperate to regain control that he almost didn’t notice that he was losing it entirely. He’d never invited anyone to his home before, and the day after your meal together he turned up at your apartment to bring you over. He’d tried to convince himself that it would be easier to have you under his control if he had you somewhere he was familiar with, but he was fooling himself. He’d given up sitting out on the park bench now, his desire to be with you far outweighing his desire to watch you like a predator watches its prey. You no longer went to the coffee shop either, instead marking your student’s work at his home. He had tried to convince himself that it was another way to keep you in line, to keep you away from a world where you could wonder away from him at any time. But you seemed to enjoy being in his home, stretched out on his sofa as your worked, acting as if he didn’t exist. He wanted to be angry with you, but he couldn’t. He wondered if he was somehow broken. The aloofness he had once possessed was gone around you. He found himself seeking your attention, trying to distract you while you worked. But you never rose to the bait, never gave him the satisfaction he so desperately craved. One evening, as you worked late into the night on a presentation, he’d grown tired of waiting for you.

“I’m busy,” you told him, when he came searching for your touch. Your words felt like a slap, a punch in his gut that left him floored. “You’re getting awfully mouthy with me,” he snapped back. He could feel himself losing him cool; why weren’t you scared of him? Why were you so unfazed by him? Was he losing his touch? Perhaps he wasn’t enough for you anymore. That last thought scared him, and he wasn’t used to being scared. He ended up on his knees in front of you, his tongue lapping desperate circles around the sensitive nub of your clit. The moans he elicited from you were heavenly, his fingers working your soft, tight core. Your thighs tightened around his face as you came, your cries of pleasure echoing off his expansive walls. He was sure he’d got your attention, was sure you wouldn’t be able to resist him, but you went right back to your work, leaving him on his knees like a dog.

You knew exactly what you were doing, of course. You didn’t like acting so cold towards him, but you were tired of knowing nothing about him when he knew so much about you. You were intrigued, if a little shocked, when he invited you into his home but could find nothing that would give you any clue as to who this man was. You could feel your lust turning into something more, but you didn’t even know his name, and it was beginning to drive you crazy. You decided to try and beat him at his own game, to try and push him like he pushed you. You hadn’t entirely forgiven him for the steak incident; you’d been sick for days after, but something kept you coming back. You recognised the feelings you were beginning to have for him, but you couldn’t fully allow yourself to break down the walls. All relationships needed an equal amount of giving and taking though, and it was time he learned that.

“Tell me your name,” you whispered one night, your nails dragging down his chest and torso as he writhed against his mattress. You’d bested him again, beaten him at his own game. What had started as a desire to show you that he was still in charge, had ended up with him handcuffed to his bed while you delivered the most delicious punishments. Your tongue, lips and teeth explored his body, your silk negligee brushing against his flushed skin. The mix of silk, soft kisses and sharp teeth were agonisingly blissful, and he found himself slipping further and further into your grip. “Just tell me your name,” you repeated, “and I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

What was it that he wanted though? This whole thing had started as a game for him, just another girl he could use to entertain himself until he ultimately got bored of you. But somewhere along the line, it had gone horribly wrong. He wasn’t bored of you, far from it. He craved your attention, your validation. Your hands skimmed his lower stomach, purposely avoiding his stiff, leaking cock. He whimpered, a sound he’d never made before, and he knew in that instant he was done for.

“Let’s try something else then, shall we?” You smiled. You’d get him to tell you his name, consequences be damned. You knew that once he’d recovered, once he’d regained his usual controlling façade that you’d pay for this. You didn’t mind though; you’d take whatever punishment he dolled out if he would just tell you his name.

You knew he kept a gun in his bedside table, had seen the flsh of the black metal as he opened it one night. You’d grown up clay pigeon shooting as a child and teen, and a handgun couldn’t be that different from a rifle, could it? You’d removed the bullets while he’d been in the bathroom, setting the gun back carefully in its place. He didn’t need know you’d taken them out, but you couldn’t help but feel that accidentally firing it might spoil the fun a little.

Pulling the drawer open, you carefully removed the gun, the weapon heavy and cold in your hand. You saw his eyes light up, heard the guttural growl fall from his lips as he pulled at his restraints. His chest rose and fell heavily, his body shaking with anticipation. He was enjoying this.

You dragged the barrel of the gun slowly up his leg, his stomach, and across his chest. “Open your mouth,” you instructed. He did as he was told, so eager. You slid the gun slowly into his mouth, relishing in the pathetic little whimpers that fell from him. Your free hand trailed back down his stomach, before coming to a stop at the base of his cock. A single nail dragged up its length, your eyes never leaving his as he squirmed against your touch. “Tell me,” you repeated, tutting when he shook his head. Your hand gripped the base of him, working his shaft slowly and deliberately, watching his reaction as he neared the brink. Just when you felt him start to shake, just before he reached the edge of ecstasy, you pulled you hand away.

He screamed something at you, but you couldn’t tell what it was; the gun muffled his voice. “It’s just your name,” you sighed, “that’s all I want. Give me what I want, and I’ll let you punish me for my disobedience.” Your hand began to stroke him once more, your thumb circling the top of his cock as he pulled against the handcuffs.

He couldn’t take it much more, the desire to fall apart for you was overwhelming, bordering on painful. He’d tell you his bank account details if you asked, anything to get you to give him what he needed. “Park Jin-Tae!” he cried, his words muffled by the cold metal in this mouth. “What was that?” you smiled, removing the gun enough so he could speak clearly. “Park Jin-Tae,” he repeated. “My name is Park Jin-Tae.” “Good boy,” you winked. He’d told you what you wanted to know; you wouldn’t tease him any longer. You placed the gun back on the bedside table, lowering your mouth to his aching cock. You’d barely placed your lips around him before he emitted a strangled cry, losing himself completely as he spilled his seed down your throat.

He’d given you a piece of himself, a part of him that he had kept hidden from the world for longer than he could remember. As you unhandcuffed him and kissed him tenderly on his lips, he so badly wanted to be angry with you. But as he looked into your eyes, his chest ached in the most beautiful way possible. His heart raced, his stomach flipped, he craved your touch, your skin against his. He knew in that moment he’d lost the game. He wasn’t in control anymore, you were. Maybe you had been the whole time. He’d spent his entire life feeling nothing for anyone, treating people as toys he could play with and throw away. But from the moment he met you, his body had ached for you, every atom of his being craved you. He was a fool to think he’d ever been in charge.

“Park Jin-Tae,” you smiled, kneeling before him with your hands behind your back. “I’ll let you punish me now.” You looked so beautiful, so perfect. As he slipped the handcuffs onto your wrists, bending your delicate body over his knee, he brought his hand down against the skin of your ass hard. Your cry of pleasure was irresistible, but tonight he’d make you shed tears.

Yes, he would punish you. Punish you for making him fall in love.

[demonic0angel]

Prolonged ecto contamination can cause regenerative abilities. This is great when something important is stabbed or a limb is lost. But for other things, not so much.

“Daddy,” A five year old cried, “somethings wrong with mommy!”

Jason ran to his and his wifes room. He stopped by the door, taking in Jazz's tense still frame perched on the edge of their bed. She gazed at a small cylinder object cluched in her hands.

"Jazz?" Jason called.

She slowly lifted her gaze to him and turned the object around, revealing two pink lines.

"Is-is that an old one?" Jason stammered.

Jazz moved her head to side to side.

"Defective?"

"I've done ten of them, all the same."

But, but that couldn't be. Jason mentally floundered. After a failed vasectomy resulting in kid numer six and then a failed tube tying causeing baby number seven, Jazz had a hysterectomy.

Jason opened his mouth to address this but then remembered that their kids were in the room. It wouldn't be good for kids to witness their parents having a meltdown over a positive pregnancy test. Or discuss a possible lawsuit against a certain hospital and surgeon.

Switching gears, Jason called to his kids, "Come on tribe! To the living room for a movie."

"What about Mommy?" the five year old protested.

"Don't worry," Jason scooped up his kid and pecked her forehead. "Your dad got this," he said with way more confidence than he felt.

(OML I LITERALKY FUCKING ROLLED WHEN I SAW THIS ASK ASDFGHHKLLL THIS IS SO FUNNY BC IN MY ORIGINAL IDEAS ABIUT ANGER MANAGEMENT, THEY HAVE 5 KIDS)

Jazz stared at him blankly. Jason stared back. They both stared at each other. Then he admitted, “I don’t think I got this.”

Thank goodness their oldest, Elinor, was able to understand and distract all of her siblings. Now it was just Jason, Jazz, and their Ancient ghost dog alone to discuss what to do next.

Jazz continued staring at him, holding Shadow in her arms before she said, “Y’know, we could….”

“Don’t even start,” he said in exasperation. While he would always give her the choice, he knew that none of them would actually genuinely consider it.

She sighed. “I know. I want it anyways. It’s mine. It’s our baby.”

Her possessiveness was so cute. Jason reached over to hug her, squeezing her gently and placing his chin on her head. It was a bit difficult due to her height, but she hunched over to tuck herself into his arms, so it was a little easier.

“We’ll handle it. Together, like always. It’s not like we’re lacking in money anyways. And we have plenty of rooms and we can get help from our support groups. I can take another break from being Red Hood and you’ve never stopped your online therapy sessions, so I think we can do this.”

Jazz sighed, nodding before she suddenly groaned aloud and used a fist to hit Jason’s chest. Jason blinked. “What?”

“You know what my siblings call me?! They call Miss Weasley! At this rate, we’ll have a football team by the time we’re done!”

Jason tried not to laugh but a twitch must’ve alerted Jazz to his amusement because she looked up at him and glared. Shadow growled lightly on her lap. She scolded, “You’re giving the news to our families again. And I won’t stop Dan from trying to kill you this time.”

“Even if it makes you a single mother to 7 kids?” Jason asked idly.

Jazz paused and then she cursed softly. Jason snorted into her shoulder before Jazz then said, “I think after this, we’re using condoms again.”

Horrified, Jason lifted his head up and stared at her in disbelief and shocked horror. “What!”

“Jason! We have 7 kids now! Can I please get a break!”

Jason groaned, long and loud. Then he sighed, rubbing Jazz’s sides in faux sadness as he bemoaned, “Fine… since I love you so much… I’ll wear protection next time…”

Jazz pinched his cheek with a little narrowed eye stare and smile, shaking lightly but she said, “Thank you, dearest. We’ll handle this together, alright? It won’t be easy, but we’ve done this six times before, we can do this a seventh time. I think I should ask Dan how he does it…” she mumbled more plans to herself, as Jason just held her, closing his eyes.

If his past self was ever told that he’d have a wife and seven kids, he was sure that he’d probably snitch to the cops that someone was hallucinating.

Not that he’d ever trade this for the world, of course.

[emmyrosee]

head empty, only rin loving kisses and being waaaaaaay to proud (shy) to ask for them.

he would love nothing more than to be able to work up the courage to ask you to kiss him, he’s touch starved and needs constant attention, but he’d rather eat rat poison than ever confess it to you. you have the effect on him, you’ve torn down his walls and shown him all the praise and affection he is worth giving, and you’ve turned him into a sucker for kisses.

which is wonderful, since you’re so keen on giving them to him.

terrible when all he wants is a kiss and you don’t notice it.

he’s pacing back and forth in the next room, desperate, craving, needing a kiss or two on his forehead and one on his lips, in a line like you usually do. routine, is how he’d describe it, but deep down, he’ll take anything he can get. his big hands are carding through his hair, and god, he’s thrilled no one is able to see him like this.

“what’re you doing, baby?”

fuck.

except you.

he nearly leaps out of his skin as you make your way to him, and when he whips his head to face you, your brows a furrowed in concern and your arms are crossed over your chest. “you vanished,” you explain. “missed my snuggle buddy.”

“eugh,” he grumbles. “we’ve talked about the nicknames, haven’t we?” he scolds, and you merely chuckle.

“we have, i just choose to not listen to you.”

“and that’s exactly why you’re a pain in the neck.”

then, you shrug, “so im a pain, meanwhile you’re stuck in here waiting for me to come give you a kiss because you can’t ask for it?”

fuck.

he scoffs, but it’s shaky and unconvincing, “yeah right. as if id ever need something as juvenile as a kiss to lure me back. i just needed to stretch is all.”

“yeah, i’ll bet,” you snicker. then you spin on your heel, and rin feels his heart sink, “well, ill be on the couch. waiting for you.”

no, no, no, his chance is walking away from him, literally, disappearing down the hall and leaving him a yearning mess, pining for your affection that he’s just not sure how to ask for.

his head drops in disappointment, fists balling slightly, and he pouts softly like a child as he wracks his mind to try and work up the courage to go. he’s pathetic, can’t even ask for affection from his own partner, someone he sleeps next to at night and lets smear a green, cold face mask on him, someone he’s so in love with they turn him into a damn petulant child at the lack of attention, and-

“hey,” you whisper. he looks at you through his lashes, embarrassed.

you smile and toss your arms around his neck, rising up slightly to press a kiss to the apple of his cheek. his eyes blow open. then, you kiss his nose gently. his lips twitch. you plant your lips on the ticklish spot on his neck, and he jerks slightly. you giggle.

“oh, you’re so cute i can’t stand it,” you purr, kissing the other side of his cheek. “i just love loving you.” you press a kiss to his chin, and by now he’s smiling shyly, cheeks blazed in red from embarrassment and excitement for the attention he’s finally receiving. “i could just eat you up, you’re so cute.” you kiss the corner of his eye, which flutters shut in ease. “i can’t not kiss you, it’s against the law.”

finally, stiffly, his arms wrap around your waist, “who would you be to break the law?”

“i would never,” you hum, moving your hands to gently cup his cheeks, forcing him to meet your gaze. his eyes practically have little hearts in them, and a wobbly smirk is on his lips. “you want some more?”

his eyes widen again. you shush him softly, thumbs stroking over the swells of his cheeks, “just nod or shake your head, my lovey boy.”

against his own determination of ‘not needing’ your attention, he finds himself nodding in your hands, butterflies in his stomach going crazy as you smile back and continue to press kisses over his face, voice dripping with honey with every adoring coo you offer him.

[wendichester]

Hello! Could I perhaps request the winchester of your choice (whoever you feel fits this situation best) x reader with an established relationship, where maybe it's an anniversary so he wants to make something special for you, like a special dinner in the bunker, the bedroom filled with candles and a bouquet of flowers, that sort of thing, because for once there isn't a case

EXCEPT: you haven't left the bunker all day, there's no reason to! You three finished a case the day before so you took this as a resting day since there wasn't any other case found, so! The brothers have to find a way to get one to keep you out till the evening, while the other rushes to get everything set up

I hope this isn't too detailed/unclear?? Tysm anyway if you write this!! I love your blog a lot <3

⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ anniversary surprise,

summary. dean wants to do something special for your anniversary

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 963

notes. though i would also see sam doing something like this, it just screamed like dean behaviour. he's the softess little thing to me ‹𝟹

The bunker is unusually quiet for once—a rare luxury in the hunting life. After wrapping up a tough case yesterday, you've taken full advantage of the downtime. Still in your pyjamas, you've spent the day curled up on the couch with a book, refusing to even glance at your laptop.

Sam, however, hasn't been able to sit still. He keeps pacing the bunker, glancing at his phone like he's expecting bad news. It's distracting enough that you close your book and call him out.

"You trynna dig a hole in the ground or something, Sam? What's wrong?"

He freezes mid-step, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. "What? Nothing! I'm fine."

You squint at him, unconvinced. “Sam, if you’re trying to avoid telling me about a case, just spit it out. I’m not leaving this bunker today unless something’s on fire.”

He stammers for a moment, clearly scrambling for an excuse. Then, his eyes light up like he's just had an idea. Oh, boy. "Uh, there's this event in town. A... a book signing. By an author I like. I thought it might be interesting, but I, uh, don't wanna go alone."

The confession catches you off guard. "A book signing?"

"Yeah," he says quickly, nodding like it's the most logical thing in the world.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. Sam Winchester, shy about attending a book event? It doesn't quite add up, but you decide to let it slide.

You glance toward Dean, who's pretending to be engulfed in his phone and beer, but is clearly eavesdropping. He doesn't even look up, clearly uninterested.

"Alright, Sam," you say with a sigh. "I'll go with you."

Relief washes over his face, making the situation even more weird. "Great! Thanks."

The book signing ends up being more enjoyable than you expected. Sam is in his element, geeking out over the author’s latest release and chatting animatedly with other fans. You find yourself wandering through the bookstore, skimming through titles and enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.

Afterward, you grab coffee at a nearby café, the conversation flowing easily as you and Sam talk about everything and nothing. It’s a rare, peaceful moment—one you don’t take for granted.

By the time you return to the bunker, the sun has long since set, and the air carries a cool, crisp chill. Sam walks ahead, fishing in his pocket for the keys.

“Shoot,” he says suddenly, patting his jacket. “I think I left something in the Impala.”

You shrug, already halfway to the door. “Alright. I’ll meet you inside.”

The moment you step through the door, you stop in your tracks.

Rose petals are scattered on the floor, forming a delicate path that leads toward the kitchen. Soft, flickering candlelight spills into the hallway, and the faint scent of your favorite meal wafts through the air.

“Dean?” you call out, your voice trembling slightly.

“Over here,” he replies, his voice warm and inviting.

You follow the trail, your heart pounding in your chest. When you step into the kitchen, you’re met with a sight that takes your breath away.

The table is covered with a white cloth, set with actual plates and silverware instead of the usual mismatched collection. Candles are arranged in the center, their golden light casting a romantic glow over the room. Your favourite store-bought meal sits neatly plated, steam rising in the air.

Dean is leaning casually against the counter, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. He’s wearing a button-up shirt instead of his usual flannel, the effort not lost on you.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he says softly.

Your stomach drops as guilt washes over you. You completely forgot.

“Dean,” you whisper, your eyes welling up. “I… I didn’t—”

“Hey,” he interrupts, pushing off the counter and walking toward you. He cups your face gently in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “It’s okay. I know you’ve been busy. This is my gift to you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you stare up at him, his green eyes filled with nothing but love and understanding. “What did I do to deserve you?”

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m the lucky one to have you.”

You bite your lip, emotion threatening to overwhelm you, but Dean tugs you toward the table before it can. “Come on. Dinner’s getting cold.”

The meal is perfect, just like everything Dean does when he puts his mind to it. Between bites, you and Dean fall into easy conversation, laughter punctuating the air as you recount memories from the past year. The stress of the world melts away, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of happiness.

After dinner, Dean takes your hand and leads you down the hallway. When he opens the door to your bedroom, your jaw drops.

The room is softly lit with more candles, their gentle glow highlighting a small table set up in the corner. A rich chocolate cake sits in the center, accompanied by a bottle of champagne and two glasses. The bed looks impossibly inviting, piled high with plush pillows and fresh sheets.

“You really outdid yourself,” you murmur, turning to him with wide eyes.

He shrugs, but the pleased grin on his face betrays his pride. “Only the best for my girl.”

Your heart swells as you step closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too,” he says, leaning down to kiss you.

The rest of the night is spent wrapped in Dean’s love and care, the perfect celebration of the life you’ve built together. For once, the world outside doesn’t matter—all that does is the warmth of his arms and the steady beat of his heart.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas