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ghostarii · 1 year ago

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GLASS TABLE GIRL ! ～ BLADE . ❛ i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  SHOW NOTES fem!reader ❱ guitarist!blade ❱ groping ❱ reader is a groupie ❱ PWP!!! ❱ (reader is intoxicated so technically) dubcon ❱ spanking ❱ degradation ❱ clit n nipple slapping ❱ ig ooc!blade but who cares ❱ choking/asphyxiation ❱ size kink ❱ dacryphilia ❱ outdoor/public sex ❱ exhibitionism ❱ spit ❱ face-fucking ❱ dirty talk ❱ reader has 0 self respect ❱ name calling ❱ overstimulation ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (stay safe) ❱ clit pinching ❱ hair pulling ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ cumplay(?) ❱ no aftercare ❱ minors & dc antis do not interact.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  CREDITS i have not written a fic in so effing long nd i was high writing this so excuse my rustiness :c but i have risen from my grave so let’s rejoice nonetheless ! !blade is on my mind 24/7 n i just want to be used n abused by him omfg turn me OWT! i listened to one of the girls by the weeknd literally the entire time i wrote this sooo feel free to listen while reading ^_^ i was js writing as i went so ts is very pwp sorryyy . . i’m gonna try to be more active on here i js need time to write so in the meantime pls show that my works would be appreciated here =( likes & reblogs are so GREATLY APPRECIATED ! ! ! if u don’t like, pls scroll cs comm guidelines r so mean to creators T_T

˖ ⁺ ⫾  RUN TIME 7.5k+ words . (of pure filth)

IF SOMEBODY ASKED you who your favorite artist was, you would say Ren—known by his moniker: BLADE. There was nothing you didn't like about this man; everything about him fundamentally and ultimately was the object of a girlish obsession. You knew all of his songs front to back, followed his social media on every single platform, and never missed a single piece of media uploaded about him. Your life was built around his style: dark and mysterious and enigmatic. He was your number one, unmatched and unchanged.

He was a hard man to come by. He frequently held small shows, with no more than twenty-thousand people on the high end. It was impossible to go, and every time you tried, your chance miserably passed you up. But this time, June twenty-third, twenty-twenty-three, you were right there, in the middle of the pit, only mere feet away from Blade. It was your first time seeing him in person by the grace of your best friend who surprisingly snagged tickets, and you’d never been more grateful in your life.

Blade was ethereal. The concert videos you’d seen over the years did not compare to the image in front of your face. It was dark, the main lights being spotlights shone on his pearly, perspiring, black, skin-tight silk-clothed skin, and dim red LED lights on the set behind him. His fingers ran effortlessly across his guitar, an inexplicably attractive riff and tone singing from the instrument. You felt like you were in Heaven, your eyes never leaving the show before your eyes. It was hot and uncomfortable in the pit but it was worth it. So worth it because he looked at you: taking you in with an unfaltering stare. His lip slipped between his teeth, and he shook his head, throwing stray locks to the back, and God, you felt as though you needed to be bolted to the ground with the way you wanted to jump on the stage. He walks up to the microphone, the most gut-wrenchingly hot vocals sliding off of his tongue. His eyes were closed, smudged eyeliner emphasizing his fluttering, long lashes, and his lips were spit-slicked, parting and pursing with each sultry lyric leaving. They were plump and rosy as if they were asking to be kissed—it was a sight to behold.

You sang your heart out, dragging your hand from waving in the air down a curvy path on your body, going from your shoulder to your chest to below where Blade’s sight would reach. You turned to your friend and recited the lyrics with a big smile and following giggle, all to turn your attention back to the stage and lock eyes with him. Your thighs clamped together just at the narrowed and burning gaze he delivered. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted a man more than you do right now.

Your friend found a way closer to the stage and you wedged your way between the crowd, finding yourself so close that the speakers were banging on your eardrums. You could feel the music in your bones, and all you could think of to describe it was hot and heavy. Maybe it was all of the pregaming you and your friend did before the concert, or the condensed heat and gyrating bodies, but you were so hot. You wipe your sweaty skin as you sway to the beginning of the next song, taking out your phone to begin recording.

Blade leans into the mic, muttering lowly, “I want you all to sing.” He pulls the microphone out of the stand, letting his guitar hang off of his shoulder from the strap. And that’s when he makes his way to where you stand, muttering small “yeah”’s and “good job”’s into the mic as the crowd collectively sings. He kneels right before you, “Sing.” he says into the mic.

You go wide-eyed—cute, he thinks—but you start singing. You grab an open portion of the microphone, leaning in as close as possible and reciting the lyrics of the song just as you were told. All eyes and cameras were on you, and that included Blade, who held an intense gaze on you the entire verse. When you finish the crowd erupts in cheers and screams, and he pulls away, finishing the song. You turned to your friend and screamed about your main character moment, dancing and singing even happier into her recording phone. This was the best night of your life.

For the rest of the concert, you had the time of your life. Blade ends the show with a final guitar solo, the entire audience silent as he wrecks the strings and pours his heart into his vocals. He briefly spoke to his fans, thanking everyone for coming out and heading backstage as everyone began to clear out. And all he could think about was that girl who his eyes couldn't help but wander toward, and to whom his thoughts dedicated his innuendos. He remembers the sign you held at the beginning of the show: “BLADE ♡WNS M(Y)E (HEART) ♡”. Your eyes honed filth that your natural disposition didn’t and he longed for it. He held bated breath as he informed his security about you, requesting you be located and brought to him and they replied with “We’ll try our best, sir.”

It was an after-concert tradition for Blade to hit up a local club, especially in situations like this where it was his last stop. He hoped he’d find you there, but he knew you would, especially if you were as big of a fan as you looked.

“Yukong, just thirty minutes! Please!!” you pleaded, trying to pull your friend into your opinion. She shook her head no, “I can’t! I have to go home! I’m so tired and you know…” you stop your friend there, not wanting to hear about her boyfriend.

“Fine. I’m still going though, text me when you get home.” you didn’t want Yukong to go home. But arguing was pointless, and only time was being put to the test, not her stubbornness. You knew from your years as a Blade fan that he always went to the club after a concert to meet fans, and some rumors even suggested ulterior motives, so you wanted to go. Yukong frowned at your flat expression but still hugged you, waving at you as she got in her car to go home. You’d be flying solo, but you had faith in yourself.

So you make your way over to the nearest club via taxi, praying that this is the one that Blade would visit. You weren’t all too familiar with the place, its name, Starskiff Haven, only being one you’ve heard in passing. Regardless, your thoughts were assured by the abundance of fighting and pushing bodies to get in the door—and when your phone lit up, a Twitter notification from a Blade Updates page noting his location, Starskiff Haven, you smiled widely, making your way to the line.

It was way too long and you weren’t interested in waiting all night—you had to meet Blade. A time like this is when Yukong comes into hand with her very stern persuasion, something that’s near impossible to deny. But she left, and you’d have to figure out a way in. And a thought immediately came to mind.

You walked to the front of the line, breathing in deeply and psyching yourself up for how incredibly you were about to embarrass yourself. When you exhale, you book it, beelining straight into the club, right past security. You immediately shift your demeanor, blending into the crowd seamlessly as security guards rush in, looking around for you. Hiding behind the most cluelessly drunk girl, you make your way to the bar, immediately ordering a sidecar. It packed a punch and the combination of how many shots you had earlier, it’d be just enough to get you through whatever you were about to do.

You turn around in the swivel stool, taking in the atmosphere and coasting the area for any sighting of Blade. The club was darker than the concert but heavily illuminated with hazy, colorful LEDS and much, much louder, filled to the brim with chatter and deafening bass-boosted music. Your drink was brought to you moments later, and with a big sip, you raked your eyes over the club once again. You could see bodies grinding on the main floor, the DJ bopping his head as his hands moved diligently across his DJ controller, couples making out and slipping into cornered areas, and friend groups recording and taking pictures. It was a lively environment, sure, and from the strength that beat on your tongue, established by incredibly skilled bartenders—but you weren’t looking for a new clubbing spot, you were looking for Blade.

And Blade was looking for you. Swimming through the unforgivingly hot crowd for you. He wasn’t itching to have you, he was itching to take you. Every time he closed his eyes he was brought back to his time on stage and how you danced in the audience. How your lips pushed out his lyrics and how your hands couldn’t stop waving in the air and running on your skin. How you swiped off sweat from your forehead and fanned yourself with your sign. And how you couldn’t keep your star-filled eyes off of him. Every light reflection off of your eyes showed desperation and neediness. You were begging to be picked without ever uttering a word, and he was not one to ignore indulgence. You needed him and he wanted you—so where are you?

Perched on that blue-velvet cushioned swivel stool. Sipping whatever remaining contents of your sidecar. And when he saw you, you saw him. You locked eyes and each plastered ill-intended smirks across your faces. And while you had his attention, you brought the glass to your lips, smacking them open and running your tongue along the sugar rim, collecting the sweetness on your tongue. You sucked on your tongue, rolling your eyes and he swears the “Ahh” leaving your lips is audible from his distance. He stayed still even as you slapped down your money on the counter, hopping down and disappearing into the crowd.

You make your way to him quickly, holding onto your rapidly rising chest and laughing at yourself. You were on a roll of unbelievable behavior, but it seemed to be a clean stroke because you were yet to meet a roadblock. And in a very blurry couple of minutes, the goal you’d been working toward was in the palm of your hand—literally.

You danced your way to Blade when you were finally close to him, sliding up against his body sweetly. He was tall and so sturdy against you, but he was smooth like butter as he synced to your movements and danced behind you. His hands were on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he pushed up against you. Your exchange was wordless but it spoke volumes. It felt like a dream, entirely too good to be true but you indulged anyway, grinding against him. A gasp escapes your mouth as his left hand unabashedly grapes your tit, squeezing roughly and experimentally. His other hand trails dangerously on the band of your shorts and you let your head fall back on his shoulder, “I'm your biggest fan…”

He laughs at your declaration, leaning to press his lips feather-lightly at the shell of your ear, “Are you now?” you nod immediately, pressing into him. “‘Blade owns me’.” he mocks your sign, and laughs when he feels you slightly tense under his touch.

“I picked you,” and again, he leans down to your ear, “Are you happy, slut?” The word is so mean but it sounds so good from him. You nearly moan, nodding eagerly, as if complying with his word came with a medal. You were a slut, so willing to give it up as soon as he laid eyes on you. And you weren’t afraid to go low to get his attention, doing just about anything to be his for the night.

Fangirls like you are nothing new to Blade and as a man who looks like he does, it comes with the territory. He can read you like a damn book, cover to cover with ease because despite how enigmatic and indifferent to the norm you may try to appear, you wear your whole being on your sleeve. You do everything in your power to be somebody you're not. Your life revolves around who you think you should be and not who you are. A lot of girls are born with “it”: an innate ability to be the one wanted and desired, but you? Your “it” is manufactured, the blueprint drawn out by girls who are it. You're stuck in a limbo created by your age: too old to not be settling down, but too young to not live your life, and you try to make a box for yourself, being the exception to a path laid out for you. You're lost in the life you lead, and with the way you're dancing so shamelessly and needily on him, Blade knows you. You’re the type of girl who sees getting used as a flex, and despite signing an NDA or promising to never say anything, you’ll tell this person and that person that you got to sleep with the Blade; that the Blade picked you. Women like you are a cancer in the industry. Pests that are incessant and damn near impossible to get rid of. He knows you won't be any different than those before you, but there’s a desire to take you that he cannot ignore.

It’s his natural instinct as a man—or he’s just a shitty person. Perhaps a combination of both, because all he can think about is putting you to use. You’re making it so easy, moaning into the air under the thick remixed song the DJ is spinning, grinding against him, and holding his hand on your tit—you want him, and you’re giving yourself to him on a silver platter. You have a clear lack of respect for yourself, but luckily for you, that’s Blade’s type in women.

The atmosphere seems to be getting heavier, and it feels like time is getting slow and choppy. Now your arms are around Blade’s neck and his large hands are holding onto your ass, and you’re so close, you can feel your chests brushing with each breath you take. The world around you is nothing but background. It doesn’t exist to you, it doesn't matter to you. Not when you have Blade, the literal man of your dreams, right in your palm, and all he's looking at is you.

You feel so special. So wanted and so desired. You feel all eyes on you like you're the main attraction and everybody can’t help but watch and weep, wishing to be you. Your ego is skyrocketed and every embarrassing thing you’ve done tonight doesn't matter to you anymore because it paid off. Your eyes locked and the space between you closed. Your heart synced with the booming beat of the current song playing. You lean in, pressing your hands at the back of his neck and pulling him in. And you kiss him. You kiss Blade.

Blade kisses you back. He tightens the grip on your ass and you moan into his mouth, letting him infiltrate your mouth. He sucks on your tongue, smiling against you when he feels you push up on your tippy toes and hears you whimper into his mouth. He kisses you back. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, pecking your lips once more before moving to your cheek, then to your jaw, then to your neck. His hands are groping at you, roughly grabbing your ass, then your waist, then your breasts. “Are you wet?”

He says it so only you can hear it. You nod. “How wet?” He moves back up to your jaw, placing another kiss. You flutter your lashes, meeting his gaze, “So wet. All for you.”

At your response, he groans, pulling off of you. He chuckles when you pout at him. You’re just what he needs for this night. He grabs your chin, holding your face and leaning down, your lips brushing against his own. “I'm going to go smoke.” and he tells you this for a reason.

You watch with the biggest smile on your face as he sifts through the crowd, heading out of a side door. It was now or never.

Quickly, you rush to the bathroom to freshen up. You fix your hair, digging into your pocket and fishing out your lipgloss, reapplying, and you fan yourself, cooling down to not look a flustered mess. And just as quick as you ran in, you ran out toward the side door, immediately looking both ways for Blade. You smell smoke distantly and turn right, and a few paces down he stood, leaning against the brick wall of the neighboring restaurant. He's next to stacks of old wood and crates and you smile, thinking about whatever was about to go down between you.

You step in front of him and he smiles, taking you in once again. He blows his smoke in your face, tapping the ash off the cigarette before smashing the butt into the wall behind him. “Hi,” you say. He says nothing back, just slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you in. The kiss you share this time is messy and he now asserts control, nipping your bottom lip when he feels you go weak and pulls back.

He rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand for him. This is the first time all night he’s seen you properly, in moderately okay lighting. Your jean mini-skirt is tight to you, accentuating the curve and fullness of your ass, and teases what’s beneath with your plump thighs poking out and how it rides up slightly. Your skin-tight baby tank is seemingly one with your figure, bringing out the best in you and making him smile with the “I ♡ BLADE” print across your chest. Your thigh-high boots did nothing when you were near him—he was looming and caging. He was intimidating and arousing, and with the lustful gaze you shared, the climax of your day was steadily approaching.

“Take it off.” He looks down at your chest and you get the memo; immediately grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head. “Slow. Take your time…” And you listen, letting your body swivel as you remove the shirt. You unhook the clasp of your bra, and before your boobs could spill out of the confines, he grabs you and wedged you between him and the wall he previously leaned on.

The front of your body is slapped on the cold brick, but you’re swallowed in warmth as he presses against you, grinding his hard-on against your ass. One hand grabs your wrists, and the other turns you around. You look at him innocently, shivering at the breeze that blows down the alley. You can smell him: woody, smokey, and expensive. Yet here he was, pressing you up against a brick wall in a random alley. “You’re such an easy slut, y’know.”

“Bet you been thinking about this; daydreaming about your favorite artist pinning you and trashing you like the fucking whore you are.” he presses against your front, nipping at your jaw. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

You whimper, “Fuck me. Take me. Make me yours.”

“Tell me.” He growls - your answer not sufficing. “Want you to break me,”

“Always fantasized…wanting you to shove your dick down my throat and use it mindlessly and mercilessly.” He begins to kiss down your throat again, licking the tender skin. He smirks when you stop talking, your breath hitching and your head craning backward to open the expanse of your neck. He starts biting on your newfound sweet spot when you begin again, “Spit in my mouth and force me to swallow it with your cum,”

He gets to your chest, immediately taking a nipple between his teeth. He listens to you wince and whine as he does, pushing your chest into his face. “And make me beg you to fuck me. Teasing me…fuck—pinching me, pulling my hair until I'm teary-eyed and begging…”

“...And then you fuck me like you hate me; choking me, slapping me, degrading me all while I thank you stupidly.”

“You’re just fucking disgusting,” he mumbles around your nipple. He lets your hands go, palming your free tit immediately. His eyes are narrow as you whine when he twinges the bud roughly. “Put so much thought into this…you’re a weirdo slut.”

You shake your head, breathing out heavily to refute his claim, “Nuh-uh—your biggest fan.” you correct.

He laughs at you. You’re much more fun than he thought, and a lot less shameless, too. You're throwing all of your big cards out; this is your go-big or go-home moment, and while you have him here, you’ll bare yourself wholly because if not now, then not ever. Blade has to commend your patience though. You're letting him toy around, graze around your unknown territory and feel you out. You’re needy but obedient. Tired of waiting but understanding. Absolutely fucking shameful and proud, but eager to be good—so maybe he was wrong about you. You do have an “it”: an innate ability to be the perfect fucktoy.

When he lets you go, he immediately instructs you to get on your knees. And you listen immediately. The cold gravel digs into your bare knees and it's incredibly uncomfortable, yet you don’t utter a word. Your nipples are hard and pebbled and are probably so sensitive, yet you say nothing. You only sit before him, fingers dancing on the exposed thigh as you look up at him, waiting to be put to use.

So he slaps you. As you told him to—he slaps you, and his hand is heavy coming against your skin. It sounds off for what felt like possibly hundreds of miles, and your face doesn’t sting, but it hurts. The skin is heating up from the impact and your head turns to the side, hair falling against your face, yet you don’t utter a word. He grabs the back of your head, forcing you to look at him and dangerously smiling when your teary eyes look up at him wide and thankfully. “Pull my cock out,” he instructs, letting you go and standing up straight.

You get to work on his belt, undoing it swiftly, and then you unbutton his pants. You tease yourself: slowly pulling the zipper down, and when pulling his pants down to his ankles, you palm him softly, gently patting his throbbing cock and staring at the growing wet spot in his underwear. You kiss the wet spot, and then you kiss it again, and again until you suck lightly on it while making eye contact with him. You moan at the very faint taste, fluttering your eyes shut, and finally sliding your hand under the band of his underwear, holding his dick.

Blade hisses at your touch, bucking slightly into your hold at the initial contact. Usually, he’d curse you out at this point for going so slow, but he’s letting it slide this time; allowing you to take control and show him how worth it and nasty you really are.

He’s big. He’s thick—your hand can just barely wrap around the entire shaft, and as you lift him to unsheath him from his boxers, you feel how heavy he is. And hard. So fucking hard.

You gawk at his cock like a kid in a candy store, staring at his leaking slit intensely—almost as if you're waiting. “Go ahead; show me how big of a fan you are.”

You kiss his tip, the bead of precum smearing on your lips. Smacking your lips apart suggestively, you wrap your right hand around the base, applying tightness and pressure as you find the right grip, and when you do, you finally lick a clean stripe across the head. Your tongue sweeps up the new milky droplet spilling out, and you contently hum at the taste, making him groan in response. You lick from the angry tip all the way to his trimmed base, then back up again until you’ve teased every side of him and located his sensitive vein.

If anybody would have told you that all you dreamed about would be coming to fruition—all by mere luck and chance—you wouldn’t believe it. And you still don't; even as you spit a thick bead of your saliva on his cock and then massage it in with your tongue, swirling all around the sensitive head. But it’s real because he moans out for you as you finally take him in, the throb getting heavier as he sits on your tongue and your lips hug him tight.

You begin your ministrations: toying with his balls lightly as you bob up and down, going as far as you could. You tried your best to take him all in. You stretched your mouth wide around him until it felt like your mouth was going to rip at the corners and until it felt like all you could do was sputter and leak drool around him. Tears brimmed in your eyes and each time you blinked them back, keeping a pretty smile on your face every time you came up for air. Your lipgloss was mixed in with spit, and clear tear streaks had already begun to run their course with your base makeup, but you didn't stop. You were moaning incessantly, suffocating his dick in your intense vibrations that had him moaning and grunting.

When you come up from your nth deepthroat attempt, it's not for air, but to breathlessly huff out “Fuck my face…please,” And since you asked so nicely…

“Blink twice if it gets to be too much.” You open your mouth as wide as you could, sticking your tongue out. He pulls your hair back for you, yanking your head back and spitting on your tongue. His eyes tell you not to move, so you don’t, keeping eye contact with him as he wraps his other hand around your own, guiding your smaller hands up and down his shaft. He shudders, “F-fuck…’m so fuckin’ hard…”

And then he slides onto your tongue, not wasting any time before bottoming out in your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise, and your unprepared gags speak volumes to your shock. But that doesn't deter you from wrapping your lips around him. And from there, he pulls out, pulling your head back and then pushing you back down as he thrusts his hips forward. He curses under his breath before picking up his pace, thrusting so hard that his grip tightens on your hair to hold you properly in place, fucking roughly into your face. You can only choke and sputter, having already taken your hands from around his dick and digging crescent nail shapes into his thighs. The sounds eliciting from the two of you are so nasty and filthy. His balls slap at your chin, your voice rings out from around his girth, and his moans echo around the world. You can’t take it but you’re doing a great job of trying. He slaps your face again, pulling out and hitting his tip on your tongue. “Keep your fucking eyes on me,”

“If you can do that, I'll cum all down your throat and all over your pretty fucking face, okay?” You nod eagerly, and as an incredibly degrading action of praise and acceptance, he slaps his spit-slicked dick against your cheek a few times. “Good girl.” Butterflies swarm in your stomach at his praise.

When Blade slides in, he smacks against your face. He goes to the very hilt, pushing his way to the depths of your throat roughly. Your nose is pressed up against his pelvis, and your cheeks are catching stray tears. But this is consistent as he begins thrusting, using you per your request. He grunts out each time his tip hits the back of your throat, thrusting so roughly and meanly into you. Again, you feel like all you can do is choke and gag, spilling slobber and precum mix back down his length. It’s fucking filthy and the loud squelching and impact noises hit your ears nastily, yet you can’t help but squirm and attempt to grind for friction to subdue the need throbbing in your clit.

Above you, the man is falling apart. His hips stutter every now and then and his voice is fucking endless. His long hair sticks to his sweaty forehead and sides of his neck, and it looks damn near intentionally placed from how beautiful he looks. The outdoor lights are like distant illuminators; glowing behind him softly—almost angelically. His eyebrows are knitted together and he struggles to keep his eyes every time he reaches the back of your throat and you start gagging. It’s beyond pleasurable. Blade isn't sure if it’s because of all the tension the two of you have built up, or if it's because he hasn't had any action in the last 3 weeks because of his neverending schedule, or if it’s because your mouth is fucking amazing, but he can't keep himself together. His chest starts heaving faster as he comes close to his high, his knees beginning to buckle, and his stomach caving.

You flick your tongue on the underside of his cock as much as you can and glue your eyes to his, seeing his release breaking him down inch by inch. “Fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!” He announces, throwing his head back.

He stills in your mouth and you take the opportunity to suck harshly on his tip, swirling your tongue around it like it’s the sweetest lolly you’ve ever tasted. He pulls out of your mouth, and you vigorously stroke his cock, so focused and determined to milk him dry. He leans forward, slapping his palm against the wall behind you for stability as he cums. He moans so prettily as he paints your face, the warm ropes making you hum contently. You give him no break, sucking his tip one last time to make sure you get the most out of what he’s given you.

Blade catches his breath, standing up straight soon after and condescendingly cooing at the mess made on your face. He picks up a glob as he sweeps his thumb over your cheek, sliding the digit in your mouth. He presses on your tongue, finding pleasure in how you swallow your sounds under a layer of gagging, but how you never tear your eyes off of him. He does this until you’ve cleaned off your face—but he's not done with you.

You're finally allowed off of your aching knees. You're sure the gravel will leave an indent from how long you were down there. He pinches your pebbled nipples, smirking as you yelp. “What was it that was next? Making you beg..making you earn my cock in you?” you nod rapidly, backing into the wall for stability as he toys with your very sensitive tits. “Show me how you beg then.”

You put your hands on his shoulders to help you stand up, feeling so weak all of a sudden. Your voice cracks as you try to speak, meek little whimpers flowing out as he works your body expertly—like he knows what gets you going. “Please…fuck–Please fuck me, I need you so bad…!”

A shrill yelp is chased out of your throat when his palm cracks against one of your boobs, “Is that all you got? Try again.”

So you do. “Need you to fuck me, Blade. I wanna be used by you, broken–please, I'll do anything!”

“Not good enough. Again.”

“Please fuck me like the slut I am! I need to be full of you, need to have you fuck me ragged and dumb so all I think of is you!” you pitch up your voice, breathing it all out in one breath.

Pitiful. Another smack. “Again.”

“I'm so needy for you, please! It hurts–I need you so much, it hurts! Please…”

And he's heard enough. His right hand slides up to your neck, forcing you against the wall. His grip is tight, fingers pressing into the sides and you have to fight for your eyes to not roll to the back of your head. “You must not want me as bad as you acted like you did…”

“I do! I do!” You interject, but your voice is weak and small—nothing in comparison to his deep and lust-saturated tone. “Then act like you do. Beg.”

He runs his other hand up your thigh, cupping your cunt. Your panties are soaked, and he can feel the heat radiating off of you. He pushes the fabric to the side, running two fingers through your folds and you swear you almost fell out then and there. You'd gone teased and untouched all night—you were beyond ready.

“Pussy is fucking soaked…” he mumbles, letting his index and middle finger twirl through your folds, getting closer and closer to your clit. “You want me here? To fuck your sloppy pussy until you're cumming your brains out?”

Your eyes start to roll and he can feel the pulse intensify in your cunt. That's exactly what you wanted. “Say it. Say ‘I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade’. Say it,”

You part your lips, and he slightly loosens the grip on your throat, “Wan–want…I want my sloppy pussy…” You get shy with your words, and he delivers a slap to your clit. The stimulation has you buckling over. You feel like his hands on you are going to be the death of you. “Say it.”

With the courage finally built up, “I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade! Please, I need it s’bad…feel like I'm gonna fucking die!” leaves your lips easily like spreading butter on toast. His lips that you never got enough of tasting quirk up into his signature smirk. He lets you go, pushing you against the wooden crates and flipping up your jean skirt.

“There you go; atta-fucking-girl.” he practically rips your panties off of you, slapping your pussy just for the hell of it. He cringes at the sound it makes and laughs cruelly at your whimpering. He presses up against you, his semi-hard dick pressed against your ass, and he wraps his arm around you and shows you the coat of your arousal that paints his fingers. “Spit.”

With your spit and abundance of slick collected on his fingers, Blade strokes his cock, going until he’s near painfully hard. The sounds he elicits make your pussy clench around nothing, needing to be satiated so desperately. “Are you ready? There’s no going back.”

This is somehow the sweetest moment for you. Your heart swells and you can only sheepishly nod, wiggling your hips eagerly. “Never been more sure about anything in my life. Ruin me.”

Ask once more, and you shall receive once more. His cock is swiped through your folds and collects a considerable amount of your arousal. He lines up at your entrance, watching you brace yourself with a smile ingrained into his face. He pushes in with a sharp inhale, biting his tongue at the feel of your tightness. Your pussy sucks him right in and—fuck. Warm and soft and tight, he could cum right now.

Your face crinkles up and you grip tightly onto the wooden crates in front of you. You’ve dreamt of this for so long—touched yourself at night to the thought and it's finally happening. He's inside of you, stretching you out, sinking in and in and in, inch by inch until he buries himself deep in your guts, until his tight and heavy balls are touching your folds. You're so sensitive you feel like you're ready to cream already, and you need it, need him, and need more. You grind your hips back on him, exhaling thickly as you rest your head against your forearm. “So fucking ready for me…”

His hand cracks down on your ass. It hurts so well and you wince, arching your back further. He sighs, kneading your skin softly. Then he pulls out, inching out until only the tip sits idly in you. You turn around to look at him, and doing that ignites his fire.

Your face is pathetic and fucked out already. Eyebrows knitted together and your eyes heavy, hardly staying open. Your lips are parted yet folded into a small frown, and perspiration rests at your hairline. You egg him on to slam into you, and he watches your frown drop into a wide ‘o’ shape, your eyes fluttering. So he does it again. And your lip now slips between your teeth. And again. And you drop your head back onto your arms.

And so Blade keeps up this pace, gradually going faster as the pit in his stomach urges him to do so. Your sounds are now uncontrollable—they fly out of you like a skipping record, incoherent babbles, and sinful moans. Each collision of your bodies elicits a visceral, wet slap that echoes off the walls of the alleyway. People around the world could probably hear what you're doing, and you're not sure if that bothers you…if the thought of a curious passerby walking down this alley naïvely would be an issue. If anything, it makes you get louder, your throat not getting to rest.

He hits you again, groaning when your pussy clenches around him. “You’re so fucking loud– you want somebody to find us?” Yes, that is what you want to say. But you moan out louder, shaking your head no. He hits you again. “Don’t lie to me,”

“You’re a fucking painslut,” he spits at you. He wraps his arm to reach your clit, immediately finding the bud and pinching it. Your knees go weak and he stabilizes you against him by pushing you further into the crates in front of you. You sniffle and whimper, presumably spilling tears down your filthy fucking face but doing nothing but asking for more. You've gotten so wet, dripping everywhere messily and Blade only cringes his face up with each wet collision. You're so nasty, so filthy, letting a stranger who you parasocial bonded yourself to defile you in public. He's feeding into your crazed delusions, but he’d honestly rather be doing nothing else. When he pinches your clit again your body shakes. Your knees buckle again and from the waist up you're basically limp. He feels you tighten around him and he sucks his teeth, parting your ass to peer at the milky ring forming around the base of his cock. “Did you just fucking cum?” Yes, you did. And you felt like Heaven doing it.

“You came ‘cause I pinched your clit…” he does it again and you jolt up, whining for him to stop. “So if I slap it…” he slaps it, eyeing you for your reaction. “Or rub on it like I love you…” his fingers run circles on your bud, feeling you get impossibly tighter around him. “So fucking easy.”

He resumes his thrusts like he never stopped—slamming into you unapologetically and now additionally, rubbing on your cute, abused clit. He's not going to last long at this rate. Your pussy gushes around him like a running river and the noises have gotten even nastier. Squelching and the occasional puffs of air escaping…you’re a mess.

“Love this fucking cunt,” he praises while pinching your clit. His free hand that rested on the small of your back is now holding onto your neck, forcing you to stand upright against him. Blade is lean but muscular. His arms flex and you feel his abs every time your bodies get close enough. His strong thighs touch yours and it's like you feel his entire body weight every time he pushes into you. “So good, ‘s so fucking good, Blade!”

The man laughs at your outburst. He angles his hips differently, trying so hard to find your sweet spot to get you creaming again. “Yeah?” he asks, tightening his grip on your throat. “Mhm-!” you concur.

“Where?” He’s sure he's found it, and he drives his hips up, groaning happily once he feels your gummy walls contract around him. “Here?”

Your head nods rapidly. “Yes, yes, yes–fuck! Right there, oh my fucking God!”

Neither of you are going to last. Blade’s balls are so tight and the way your pussy hugs him is even tighter. You suck him in like you never want him to leave, but your over-stimulated squeals and shaking thighs suggest otherwise. He’s found your sweet spot and is recklessly abusing it, going all or nothing. The way he toyed with your clit like a kitten pawing at a toy was too much—it started to hurt, to throb endlessly as your stomach knotted and your hole drooled. His grip on your neck was the icing on the cake. You felt like you could no longer breathe — like his thrusts were knocking the wind out of you and him choking you was keeping it out. Every little thing he did pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

He was even more merciless than before. Blade fucked into you harder, rougher, and faster than before, and you chalked that up to his orgasm catching up to him. You listen to his songs on repeat all the time but never have you heard him sing more beautifully than now as he digs your pussy out. You were really blessed with this night, and now it is coming to a very eventful end.

“‘M gonna fucking cum–!” You announce, and Blade nods his head in agreement. He slaps your cunt one last time, his fingers covered in your juices now tweaking at one of your nipples. “Me…me too, fuck.”

He leans into your ear, “Make me cum in this fucking pussy,” a throaty moan breaks his sentence, and you moan back, feeling it coming. “So close, so close…!”

It's this contraction that has Blade falling apart. He thrusts into you one last time, his eyes shooting wide open as he cums deep in you. He moans gutturally and shakily, feeling you clench tighter as you orgasm as well. His hips stutter in you and your hips ride back onto him as you both come down from your highs. The alley is now deafeningly silent and you flush in embarrassment from how loud you must have been. He lets your neck and tit go, using one hand to now spread your ass and pull out his cock. Your pussy is puffy and shiny, and when he’s out, he watches with a burning gaze as your mixture of cum starts to slightly spill out.

He groans, slapping your ass one last time. You two finally separate, and you turn around to look at him. You're sure he doesn't look as fucked up as you do, but even so disheveled and fucked out and sweaty as he is, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter. He pulls up his boxers and pants, fixing his shirt before he looks over at your mostly naked frame. He comes over to you, pulling down your skirt, and his doing this makes you feel less like a one-night stand, and more like one of his girls.

Being so close to you, he breathes you in. You smell like sex, but beneath that is a layer of whatever fruity perfume you sprayed on you, and it's delectable; so he kisses you. It's something he doesn't usually do, and he wouldn't have done it for you, but you entrance him. Perhaps it's because you're what he likes— he's met his match.

But you kiss each other passionately like you were trying to reignite the flame you just spent God knows how long fucking out. Your tongues are well acquainted with one another, swirling and bumping and riding past one another knowingly. He pulls away from you, looking in your eyes as he lets spit fall onto your tongue once again. You smile happily as you swallow it—God, you could do this forever. “Come back with me,”

You didn't expect him to say that. You blink your eyes a few times in disbelief. This night can't be any more unreal. He notices your confusion and smiles, “Is that a no–”

“–No! I'll come with you!” you don't know where he’s taking you, or what it means to go with him. You do know that you’ll have a lot to tell Yukong, NDA or not, and that you’ll never forget this day.

Smiling again, this time devilishly, Blade pulls away from you, pinching your cheek. “Good girl.”

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #blade honkai #honkai smut #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr blade #blade smut #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x reader smut #minors & ageless blogs do not interact.#hsr blade smut #hsr ren

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aprilcolours · 4 months ago

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blackheart- part four

part one - part two - part three

A/N: warning: there is smut in this chapter!! A lot!! be warned!! s*x ahoy!! p*nsises and whatnot!! I’ve also started doing valyrian translations underneath the line bc there is a lot, and i'm taking liberties w black aly being witchy bc i wanna and its Cool

—

The night was young as they set out across the marshes, their horses galloping through mud and muck.

Benjicot led the way on a black mare, their dark hair almost disappearing into the night. Just behind him rode Visenya, on a white-gray stallion. He had laughed when she picked it.

She had changed into her favorite dress: a deep red gown with a scooping neckline, beaded and encrusted in rubies. It was odd to see her finery against the wild landscape.

They rode North to his keep, their purpose known only to them. Vermithor remained behind, so none were the wiser as they secreted away.

Raventree Hall was certainly not the largest castle she had ever seen, nowhere near as imposing as her home on Dragonstone. It had, however, a quiet grandeur, a dignity that spoke to ages long past and kings long dead.

Entering into the central palisade, despite the late hour, servants immediately began rushing about, lighting braziers, making preparations for the liege-lord’s arrival.

“Maester Daris!” Benjicot called up into the hall.

“So the rumors are true,” a woman’s voice rang out. In a doorway stood a tall thin woman with long dark curling waves of hair. She had a strange look about her, a bird-like turn to her features.

The archer, Visenya thought, a witch they say. Black Aly, she is called.

“The rumors of the Riverland’s witches?” Visenya replied, hair loose about her, but face impassive. The woman laughed with a nod, and bowed. Benjicot interceded to introduce,

“My aunt, Alysanne Blackwood. And this is—”

“A princess who needs no introduction from you,” the strange woman interrupted, stepping into the foyer. “Go find the maester then,” she said, touching her nephew’s arm in reassurance. Benjicot glanced once between the women, before stepping up the stairs to wake the maester.

“An honor, your highness,” Aly began, a cautious tilt to her words. “Would I be remiss in congratulating the joining of our houses?”

“You would not, Lady Alysanne,” Visenya responded, her tone polite and unbothered. It was clear the other woman was sizing her up, assessing her, so she did not squirm.

“The ceremony is to be held here? Now?”

“It is,” she replied simply, daring the elder to question her.

“You will honor our ways then I presume,” Black Aly stated, with a jut of her defiant chin. “A dragon’s maidenhead is a mighty sacrifice to the Old Ones, and I’m sure we will want all the divine favor we can manage for the war ahead.”

The Riverlander witch spoke quietly, so their words were only theirs, but Visenya did not mistake the steel in her voice.

My mother will rule these people, whoever their gods. And so she inclined her head in acquiesce.

The ceremony was small, in the yard outdoors beneath the giant dead Weirwood tree: the maester to speak the words, Alysanne to provide a relative’s blessing, and them.

He passed his family cloak over her shoulders, clasping it at her collarbone. The weight was comforting.

When the Riverlanders finished their ritual however, Visenya asked for a cup of wine and a dagger.

She raised the dagger to her lower lip and cut it, as she had seen her mother once do. She took a pull from the goblet of wine and then passed them both to Ben. He wore a slight smile as he mimicked her, slicing his own lower lip and drinking. The Valyrian ceremony was sealed with a kiss.

Black Aly and the Maester wore twin bewildered expressions, but they witnessed the second ceremony all the same. Then they took their leave, walking back up the cobblestone path to the castle proper.

And they were suddenly, blisteringly, alone.

Visenya’s eyes were wide in nerves, and something else stirring low and tumultuous in her gut, pupils blown open. She had always been able to maintain some small shred of composure around the subject of Bloody Benjicot Blackwood, but here and now she was stripped bare of all of it. She knew what came next and it frightened and excited her in equal measure. Here she could not be the princess, the commander, the dragon rider.

Here, in this torchlight, beneath the grasping unknowable branches of the dead Weirwood, she was just a girl.

She bit her lip nervously, and more blood from the slice beaded through. Benjicot lifted a hand to her face, thumb drawing across her full lower lip and smearing the blood across her chin.

“What troubles you, wife?” he asked, voice so low it was barely a mutter. His eyes caught a flicker of the torchlight and flashed like a wild animal’s.

“Your gods are strange,” she breathed, trying like always to gain some control of the situation.

“Aye,” he chuckled. “So are yours.” Benjicot’s eyes softened then, the viscous gleam undercut by something else— something she did not dare name. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and palmed it gently.

“We need not do this here, if you find it displeasing,” he offered, his other hand slipping to her lower back to toy with the laces of her dress.

She considered it: a warm bed or the cool misty ground around her.

And she kissed him.

The cloak fell from her shoulders first. Then the tunic off his chest. Then his fingers tangled in the laces of her dress finally gave way. She may have heard some ripping and though it was her favorite dress, he was suddenly kissing at her neck, and she couldn’t be bothered to care. He licked along her jaw and down to the juncture of the shoulder and bit down, hard. She gasped loudly, breath misting in the night air. He passed over the bite with his tongue to soothe the ache and she shivered.

Finally, the gown slid away, and Visenya stood nude before him. She wanted badly to cover her breasts but she dared not balk. I am a dragon for gods’ sake, she thought, and so she stood straight backed, silver hair loose and tumbling over one shoulder.

He slid his hand down her neck and to her breast, peaked against the cold. He fell to his knees, hands sliding down her frame as he went.

He kneeled for a moment before her, as if he worshiped at her altar. She ran a hand gently through his hair.

Then he kissed at her navel, at her hip, and finally at her core.

He licked into her, and this too, he did like a drowning man. She gasped, and breathed, and gasped again at the foreign sensations, so strong and new, as they rocked her body. While he sucked and tongued at her center, one hand crept up to her breasts again. He pinched one nipple, rolling it in his fingers, and it was all suddenly too much—overwhelming. She called out a gasping warning, hands gripped tight against his head, before her climax rang through her like lightning.

Her spine shot straight, back arched up to the night sky, before she folded to the ground, her head and waist caught in his hands so he could lower her carefully.

Safely laid against the ground, Visenya caught her breath. It seemed as if the world had shifted and she was now trying to find her way back to it. Blinking her eyes clear, she noticed the Blackwood above her, watching. His eyes were unfathomably dark.

She glanced down quickly and noticed the straining bulge against his trousers. All feelings of trepidation gone, only bliss and quiet satiety left in their wake, she reached a hand down to pull at his belt.

“Are you sure my lady,” he breathed, a grin slashing across his flushed cheeks. “More?”

She aimed for her signature raised brow, though she felt so content she doubted she could manage it. He laughed all the same, kneeling back for a moment to undo his belt.

He pulled his trousers down and his manhood sprung loose, arced with a curve that looked nigh painful.

Visenya bit her lip again. Emboldened by the pleasure still quivering through her body, she reached a hand to it and ran a thumb across its beaded tip. It was then his turn to shiver.

They kissed languidly, unhurried, as he situated himself above her, her legs parting naturally to bracket him. They fit together well, slotting into place with a long pull of tongue against tongue. She tasted herself on him.

His manhood teased at her entrance, before slowly inching forward with a rock of his hips. She could hear a whining-moaning noise. Distantly, she was aware it was her. In tiny increments he sheathed himself fully, pushed to the hilt. The feeling was momentarily so intense that neither dared move, foreheads resting together.

She was so full, every pleasured nerve drawn taught in the fullness. It was perfect and also agony. So she whined, kicking her heel at his back for him to move.

He buried a moan into her neck, and obliged.

They rocked together, slow at first but quickly building pace. The electricity began to arc up her spine once more and she clenched her thighs in warning. As she came, the reverberations of her body ripped his climax from him as well, in a stuttering, heaving, sort of groan.

They lay together for a long while, and the blood and seed fed the earth beneath the tree.

They returned to the war camp that night, nearly as the dawn broke, exhausted but happy. He lingered at her tent, hesitant to part. She gave a soft private smile.

“You may stay. If you like,” she offered. He simply nodded his own small smile back, too content to be the biting grin he usually wore.

After too few hours of rest, Visenya and Benjicot rose and dressed for the council. They traded lazy kisses in the golden light of morning.

The morning, like always, brought news.

Caraxes had landed nearby.

Her father stood, posture as familiar and straight backed as her own, at the council table as she approached. His dragon helm was tucked beneath one arm. The other lords eyed him warily, speaking to each other in hushed tones.

Visenya did not falter, striding into place next to him with her chin held high. Benjicot stood behind her a few paces, defensively guarding her rear flank.

“Kepa,” she greeted.

Father.

Daemon flicked his eyes to hers, they were ringed with dark circles.

“Olvie ēza arlinnon ziry vestragon,” he rumbled, voice rasping.

Much has changed it seems.

Something is different in him, she noticed. Her father carried a weariness he had not before his time at Harrenhal. She inclined her head in a gesture of respect.

“Eman won ērinnon rȳ se Qelbria,” she proclaimed.

I have won victories across the Riverlands.

She gestured at the pieces on the board and continued, “Eman gūrogon hāre sombāzmion sīr tolmiot.”

I have taken three castles so far.

He nodded slightly, and she paused to take a slight breath before she continued, “Eman gūrogon iā valzȳrys hae sȳrī.”

I have taken a husband as well.

#teeheeeee #thanks for waiting guys sorry this part took longer i was hella busy #davos blackwood #kieran burton #fancast! benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x oc #benjicot blackwood #house of the dragon #benjicot x reader #bloody ben #targaryen!oc #targaryen!reader #visenya targaryen #visenya! daughter of rhaenyra and daemon

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vampiricgf · 7 months ago

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☆ WOE TO THE LAMB THAT DISPUTES THE WOLF

ᝰ A silly bet of who can outrun whom in the pitch dark woods, just remember to the victor go the spoils (repost from old account)

f!reader, predator/prey, dry humping, blood drinking, fear play, outdoor sex

You knew it had been cocky the moment the words left your mouth, floating through the air like motes of dust in the wind but your pride would never allow you to snatch them back, keep them held tight against your chest in denial.

There was no room for anything to matter but the pounding of your feet against the dirt. Not the sharp sting of branches catching at your arms, pulling light tears in the flesh, nor the growing kaleidoscope of bruises on your legs from tripping over yourself and various roots as you tore through the small wood surrounding Rivington.

Adrenaline, all encompassing like a wave bettering you against rocks, meant you paid little attention to these crucial slip ups.

The wolf at your back was drawing ever closer.

Despite being soundless in shadow the mere suggestion of his presence was unrelenting, never allowing even a moment of stillness. You had used an elixir of elven elegance just attempting to stay ahead but you could feel your stamina depleting from running at a consistently breakneck pace ever since.

Yet you pushed on, knowing you had to be close to the agreed upon finish line.

It had been all manner of foolishness to make a bet with a vampire on who could outhunt whom under the cover of night. Seeing the sly grin paint his face should have told you the victor would be predetermined the moment you both set your sights on each other. But alas your curse to bear was believing even for a second that diligent training could trump supernatural ability.

A hunter was only as good as their weapon, and only as reliable as their senses.

Right now you have neither in any abundance.

He’d even agreed to give you a head start, which had only inflamed your ego at the beginning but now you were grateful for the pity. It had been generous, given the fact that you’re outclassed in terms of sheer speed and accuracy.

All the advantages you believed you had burned away, crumbling like the ashes of ignited paper, when you'd been forced to deviate from the path you’d set in your mind. It was artful, the way he directed you by making you believe he was about to lunge out at you from the dense pockets of foliage, baited you with sounds that disgusted his location, forced your mind to play nasty little tricks on you, and you played the dutiful mouse being led through the maze.

Fear wasn’t anything foreign to you, and while you knew rationally that this was simply sick fun, the primal part of your brain failed to grasp the message. And he used that to his full advantage.

A chorus of victorious laughter broke your fragile concentration, seeming to come from your left flank and the world went sideways in a fraction of a second.

Even though he'd held back it did little to mitigate the force of impact, nor the face full of dirt you got as he pinned one arm behind your back with his breath fanning the back of your neck. It sent shivers like shockwaves down your spine as his teeth grazed the shell of your ear.

“Look what I caught-”

You flinched involuntarily but the automatic response didn't mask how your thigh muscles squeezed, something he felt without a doubt as he straddled you.

His smug aura emanated enough that you didn't need to see him to know he was grinning, could feel the way his fingers twitched like live wires as he held you fast.

“You win,” you gasp out, wriggling in his hold but meeting light resistance.

You still upon feeling his nose nuzzle downward against your neck, the tiniest whimper escaping your lips as his tongue swipes across your sweat damp skin. The groan he lets out at the taste is enough to nearly make you cum on the spot.

"And what do I get for my victory?”

Your lungs seize in your chest, a burning bloom of embarrassment and desire that grasp hold of your tongue in a vice grip.

He gives you just enough slack and room to turn over on your back before grabbing your hands, lacing your fingers together in a choking clasp. “To the victor go the spoils, isn't that right?”

It's like the world is suddenly cast immobile in rich, mellow amber; a perfectly frozen diagram of a beast of myth right before its jaws open wide enough to swallow the world.

The way his pupils dilate until only a thin ring of crimson is present expands in your vision until it's all you can see, all that is present coupled with the brutal hammering of your pulse that you know is audible to him.

The drag of his tongue against his teeth plays out before you in a slow crawl, his movements like seeping honey and as your adrenaline reaches its crescendo his lips press against yours.

Cold, frenzied, sloppy.

It's a kiss made of teeth, tongues, and spit as his hips grind against you and your fingers claw at the hem of his shirt. You can't help but whine into his mouth, and every noise is swallowed down like fine vintage as he pushes icy hands beneath your shirt, shamelessly groping the planes of your flesh, kneading at your breasts. It isn't long before he's nearly panting over you, pressing his erection against your clothed cunt so firmly it robs you of breath yet again.

Under the ever watchful gaze of the trees you're both stripped of shirts, his lips mapping the contours of your throat as if he hasn't traveled the road a thousand times, as if he couldn't find your veins blinded.

You are the feast table he needs no guidance towards.

In the throes of delirium you almost don't feel the initial pinpricks of his fangs until the pain blossoms as they're driven further through layers of skin, the wounds widening to accommodate and relinquish a greater flow of the red gold that floods his mouth and drowns his tongue.

When his lips close around the wound to suck your hips buck up against him, fingers sinking into the hardness of his shoulder blades as you two rut in the dirt: a mass of sweat, blood, and arousal so primitive it only heightens the obscenity.

His own hands hold you steady as he basks in every touch from you and every movement of your hips, nearly garbled whimpers against your neck and you can tell just the friction alone has him teetering on the edge.

Through the euphoric haze a wicked thought takes root in your mind as your hand slides down between your bodies, caressing him through his trousers and coaxing him to a premature end.

You feel his fingers tightening in your hair, a subtle plea that you're quick to answer, the motion of your hand becoming urgent as he grinds against your palm and moans shamelessly into the now numb patch of flesh at the side of your throat.

When you feel the little quakes and shivers racking his body, the warmth spreading against the fabric, and the hushed garble of your name you know it's not he who has won.

In a kiss drenched in the second hand taste of your own blood you can't help the self satisfied grin that overtakes your lips.

In the smattering of moonlight shot through gaps in the branches you relish in your small victory, already eager to challenge him again.

#astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #txt ☆ˎˊ˗

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pampalightingmarketing · 4 months ago

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Bluetooth Led Light Bulb | Pampalighting

A Bluetooth LED Light Bulb by Pampalighting lets you control your lights with your phone. You can change the color, brightness, and even set timers. It's easy to install, energy-efficient, and perfect for creating the right mood in any room. Just connect the bulb to your phone's Bluetooth and enjoy smart lighting.

#best outdoor led step lights #best outdoor spotlight #garden path lights

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merlincmgirl · 2 months ago

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Outdoors - Wolffe x FReader - NSFW

Summary: Wolffe just wants 5 minutes alone with you, is that too much to ask? Well according to his brothers it is. So after all the interruptions, he drags you through the forest on the planet you were stationed on to finally have your undivided attention. He's going to make sure his brothers know exactly who you belong to.

Characters: Wolffe, Sinker, Comet, Boost

Pairing: Wolffe x F!Reader

Word Count: 7,690

Warnings: PinV sex, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, marking, possessive, biting (it is Wolffe), outdoor sex

Authour's Note: Wolffe is just... is just... he has a hold over me and filth just pours out. My brain melts with him!

shebs - backside, rear, buttocks

mir'shebs - smartasses

Wolffe was annoyed. No, not just annoyed, he was furious. For the past half a rotation, he just wanted 5 minutes alone with you, was that too much to ask? Well according to his brothers it was. Every time he thinks he has you alone, one of his brother interrupts.

First it was Sinker, who found you speaking quietly to him in the Command Centre after you had given him your initial report on the state of the transporters. The Centre wasn’t empty, but it was quiet, allowing a brief conversation before you would both have to return to your duties. His Sergeant had sighed in relief at seeing you, asking if you could help look over some of the communication towers that were broken during landing. His cyare had sighed and flashed him a soft smile before leaving to do her duty.

The second time it happened was in the mess hall. The pair of you had finally sat down to eat, hopeful that you would get something down you before work started up again. It was one of the only occasions that your paths may cross during the day without the expectation of reports and military protocols weighing you both down. So both you and Wolffe enjoyed these quiet moments, where you could share a meal together and talk quietly.

Comet had been the one to barge in on the moment, sitting down beside you and sparing Wolffe an apologetic glance before requesting your help. He seemed hesitant to tell you the reason, glancing over at the Commander before his desperate eyes flashed back to yours. Well that was going to be a headache for him later, Wolffe was sure. Laughing, you had assured Comet that you’d help deal with whatever was going on and wished Wolffe an affectionate goodbye before following after his younger brother.

The next time, it was Boost who interrupted, as he finally got you alone behind one of the supply tents that had been set up. He had just been about to wrap you up in his arms when Boost came round the corner, lighting up at seeing both his brother and his favourite Chief Engineering Officer. There was annoyance in your eyes but you greeted Boost with all the kindness that you possessed, as he asked if you would like to go see the shinies finally have the courage to talk to General Buir. Without waiting for a reply, he had led you away, shooting Wolffe a smirk and a wink over his shoulder as he dragged you away by your hand.

That was when Wolffe realised that something was going on. He wouldn’t put it past his brothers if it was Boost’s idea to annoy the Commander by dragging his cyare away during the few times they were alone. When you were both on duty, he rarely got any time with you. Mainly seeing you only in meetings or when you gave him your reports. So what little time he got when the 104th were on a mission, he would pull you somewhere quiet and finally spend time with you.

But his vod’ika’s little prank wouldn’t be happening for much longer. Because Wolffe has a plan, a plan to finally get you alone and away from annoying di’kut brothers.

So after all the interruptions, he drags you through the forest on the planet you were stationed on to finally have your undivided attention. He's going to make sure his brothers know exactly who you belong to.

You grunted, loosening the top button of your officer’s uniform as you trudged away through the forest, following Wolffe’s broad back. His grey and white armour was a delight to look at and it highlighted the curve of his ass perfectly. At least this way you got a nice view on your hiking trip with the Commander.

“Wolffe, for kriff’s sake, where are we going? We’re going to be out of sight of the men soon!” you grumbled, following after the Commander in front of you. A native fly buzzed at you and you angrily swatted it away. It was too hot for this, you could already feel your temples begin to dampen.

This planet was covered in a humid forest that went on for miles and miles. Perfect place to hide an entire army of clones – or droids. So the protocol was to not wonder off and make sure there was at least a group of you in case you found trouble. And you were walking further and further away from base.

“Good, they’ll be fine. Now quit complaining” Wolffe grunted, stepping over a small ditch and turning to offer you a helping hand. His strong grasp almost lifted you over the gap and safely next to him. He squeezed your hand once before letting go and continuing your walk.

You had been following him for a bit, the conversation pretty much one sided. Wolffe looked around stopping only for a moment before carrying on, a path known only to him. You were starting to suspect though he had less of a destination in mind and more and more that he was getting lost and wondering around. Sighing heavily at the heat that was beginning to cling to your skin, you bumped your shoulder against his arm. “We’re lost, aren’t we?” you questioned.

Wolffe turned to raise an unimpressed eyebrow at you, his cybernetic eye glinting in what light that made it’s way through the tree tops. “Of course we’re not lost. The men are 2 klicks West” he huffed, pointing back in the direction you came.

“Alright then, I’ll believe you” you grinned, slipping your hand into his and giving it a squeeze. Wolffe looked down at your enclasped hands and he smiled slightly, returning your squeeze. “Lead the way, Commander” you instructed, letting him tug you forwards.

“You know, I don’t know if it’s this heat or what, but your brothers have been very demanding today. I don’t think I got a moment’s peace with them” you frowned, wondering back to the Wolfpack's behaviour.

“Hmm, or what” Wolffe grumbled, moving a branch out the way for you so it didn’t get tangled in your hair or whip into your face. “It was Boost’s idea, I’m sure of it” he told you, leading you further into the forest.

“What’s he done now?” you sighed, dreading the headache that Boost would no doubt cause. If he was keeping you distracted, then that meant that something was going on that you weren’t meant to know about. You just hoped that whatever it was wouldn’t require you to clean up a big mess or lie to the General, you hated to see his disappointed face.

“Those little mir’shebs are keeping us apart for some reason, probably to piss me off” Wolffe explained and you had to hide your laughter behind a well timed cough.

“Really?” you asked, voice a little too high judging by Wolffe’s scowl, “why would they want to do that?”

Wolffe hummed, rolling his eyes at your amusement. “You’ve met my vode, cyare” he reminded, shaking his head.

This time you really did laugh, because if there was one thing the Wolfpack liked to do, was play pranks on each other. Normally Wolffe was kept out of most pranks due to his Commander position, but he was still on the receiving end of a few of the milder ones. “True! But it seems as if they’ve failed because I’m here with you” you grinned, wrapping your arm around the one holding your hand and pressing into him.

Wolffe pressed a brief kiss to your head before he straightened up and tugged you forward. “We’re here!” he announced happily, finally pleased to have reached the spot that his patrol squad had informed him about.

Pulling away from him, you couldn’t help but gasp. In front of you was a small clearing, with beautiful bioluminescent flowers surrounded by huge trees with thick, ageing trunks that reached high into the sky. Blinking in wonderment you stepped forward, careful to not disturb the flowers too much. “Wow!” you breathed, taking it all in.

A hand laid on the small of your back, and you turned to face Wolffe with a wide beam on your face. “How did you find this place?” you wondered, leaning into the warm weight of his hand.

“Patrol found it and told me about it. Thought it might be a nice little place to get away from everyone” Wolffe shrugged, pulling you into his arms. As you wiggled your way into his hold, back pressed against his chest, he couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection in his chest at the small movement. It showed him just how comfortable and safe you felt in his arms, and he couldn’t help but agree. It was like second nature to hold you so close, to have his head hook on your shoulder and feel your fingers run through his curls.

“It’s beautiful Wolffe, almost as beautiful as you” you smiled, holding onto the vambraces he wore on his wrists.

His chest rumbled with a chuckle and he squeezed you tighter against him. “Very cheesy, mesh’la” he murmured, pressing his nose into your hair and letting in a deep breathe of your scent. It helped him feel relaxed, more like Wolffe, rather than Commander of the 104th Attack Battalion.

You spun in his arms, throwing yours around his neck and pulling him down to you. “But you love me for it” you shrugged, enjoying the way Wolffe’s eyes squinted with happiness as he looked at you.

“Do I now?” he teased, leaning closer to hover his lips over yours, feeling the way your breath caught in your throat.

“Yeah” you breathed, focus zooming in on those perfect lips of his that was curling up into a smirk.

“Yeah I do” he confirmed, pressing his lips against yours. His hand came to cup your cheek, tilting your head up so he could kiss you how he wanted. Nipping at your lower lip, you gasped, and he took that as the invitation he needed to sweep his tongue into your mouth, seeking out your own.

You groaned, chest arching against his cuirass as you tugged him down into you. His tongue worked against your own, teasing you even further and you couldn’t help but feel heat flush through you.

Wolffe kissed just like he did everything else. With passion and strategy. He flicked his tongue against the tip of your own. It was almost like he wanted to consume you and overwhelm you, delighting in your little moans and groans against his lips.

Eventually you both pulled away, the urge to breath getting in your way. Resting your head in his neck, you panted, trying to stop your head from swimming at his kiss. A hand travelled to the nape of your neck, guiding you up to face him and you couldn’t avoid the smug look on Wolffe’s face at how breathless you were.

“You’re panting like me” you reminded, tapping his cuirass and shaking your head at him.

“Oh, but not as much as you, mesh’la” he chuckled lowly, the sound sending tingles down to your core.

Grumbling, you began to relieve him of his upper body armour, determined to feel the strong, warm planes of his body rather than the cool, hard ridges of his armour. The heat of the planet and forest was getting to you, and you guided Wolffe’s hands to the hem of your shirt so he could help you out of it.

As soon as that was on the floor, Wolffe groaned as he took you in. The way your skin glistened slightly with the humidity of the planet, how your curves were highlighted with every breath you took. The regulating temperature control of his body suit was a comfort, and he dreaded having to take it off but he had to if he wanted to feel your soft, delicate skin against his own. And he really, really wanted to do that.

“So beautiful” he murmured, trailing his gloved hands down the slope of your neck and resting just below your collarbone.

Starting at the belt around his waist, you glided your fingers over his tense abdominals, up over his chest, making sure to circle his nipples lightly before going upwards, until you could feel the small button that kept the top of his blacks closed around his neck.

Wolffe groaned, hands bracketing your neck before bringing you in for another kiss.

As you lost yourself to the kiss, Wolffe worked on undoing the bottoms of your own uniform, hooking his thumbs into the waistline and sliding them down your legs, breaking the kiss. He tugged off your boots, helping to keep you steady before pulling off your trousers.

You were left nearly bare in front of him, only your chest band and pants covering you from his heavy gaze. Shivering slightly, but not from the temperature, you reached out for his own belt, unclipping it and letting it drop to the floor. His helmet, that was clipped onto the belt, rolled amongst the flowers, but neither of you cared.

“Go on, keep going mesh’la” he growled, eyes never leaving yours.

Breath hitching in your throat, you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him, the soft grass and flowers providing a comfort to your knees. Carefully, you unlatched his cuisses and placed them beside you in the grass. Next came his knee plates, and you added them to the growing pile around you. Pressing a kiss to his covered thigh, you hooked your fingers under his greaves and pulled them off as well, looking up into his dark eye and glowing white cybernetic one. There was only his boots and codpiece left. Wanting to tease him a little, you pulled off each boot, throwing them behind you somewhere.

“Keep going” he ordered, eyes never leaving yours, as his voice dropped another octave.

You felt slick leak out of you at that, no doubt forming a wet patch in your pants. But you trailed your fingers up his broad, strong and powerful thighs and worked your fingers under the catch. You could hear Wolffe’s breath catch in his throat as you slowly pulled away his codpiece. When you put it down beside the other pieces of armour, you turned back around to him, looking up at him past the bulge in his blacks.

“Good girl” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. It caught on your lip and he pulled it down slightly before he lowered himself down in front of you. “Can I take this off, mesh’la?” he asked, hands stopping at the back of your chest band.

“Of course” you consented, feeling relief as the monstrous contraption was taken off you.

Large, warm, calloused hands cupped your breasts, massaging the ache away before you met his eyes once more. He had been watching you, taking in how you relaxed into him and the relief you got from him doing that. He ran a thumb over your nipples briefly, before laying a hand on your chest and pushing until you lay back in the flowers and grass.

It was like a floral mattress, the ground soft and it smelled so beautiful that you couldn’t help but sigh, looking up at Wolffe as he was illuminated by the brightest blues and reds and greens and pinks. He looked like a God from this angle.

Wolffe thought the same, staring down at you from where he was hovering over you. You looked so damn beautiful it almost hurt to look at you. But what made it all the more perfect was the look on your face as you gazed up at him. It was full of love, desire and affection. Nobody had looked at him like that before. He felt special, important, like out of all his brothers he was the one you would pick every time.

Wolffe let out a little growl before falling forward, landing on his hands on either side of your head. He pressed a passionate kiss to you, losing himself in the feel of you against him, in the way that your legs spread naturally to welcome him into the v of your legs. He grunted as you cupped his face, keeping him pressed against you.

When you pulled away, you let your fingers trace gently over his scar, knowing how much he still hated it. “You know, Commander, you’re wearing too many clothes” you grinned, playfully tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“Oh really, mesh’la? I was going to say the same about you” he chuckled warmly, before sitting up properly and throwing his blacks behind him. When he returned, he skimmed a hot, calloused hand down your side and stopped at your hip, before trailing his fingers from right to left along your waist in a teasing pattern.

You bucked your hips under his hands, hoping he’d take the hint and pull off your pants. But you knew Wolffe, he loved to tease you, so you waited for him to make the next move. When he still hadn’t done anything, just idly tracing patterns along the hemline of your pants, you couldn’t help but let out noises of dissatisfaction.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” he teased, letting the fingertips of one hand slowly slip between the material just enough to get your breath to hitch before he was pulling away.

“Wolffe, you haven’t even touched me yet! Come on” you hissed, reaching to thread your fingers through his hair.

He chuckled, rising up your body and presses soft kisses along the way until he was hovering over your panting chest. Wolffe cupped one in his hand, delighting at the weight before latching onto your other breast, sucking dark marks around the curve before taking your nipple into his mouth. He worked it into a stiff peak, gently rolling the bud in his mouth.

His other hand continued to work your other breast, squeezing and massaging it, grazing his nail lightly over the stiff peak. He loved hearing you moan and the way your hips bucked up into his stomach, searching for a friction that he wasn’t ready to give to you yet.

“Wolffe!” you gasped, tugging sharply at his dark curls as he ran his teeth over the sensitive nipple. His hand pinched the other one, making you cry out and arch into his touch.

Giving a hum of acknowledgement that sent tingles down your spine, you directed his mouth to the other breast, eager to feel his mouth on that side. He moaned around his new task, flicking and pinching your already slicked up nipple just to get you to moan loudly.

“Kriff Wolffe, you’re… everyone will know… what we’re doing” you panted, eyes sliding closed as you lost yourself in the sensation of his mouth and lips pulling at your buds, stiffened and shiny with his saliva.

“I’m counting on it, mesh’la” he assured, pressing a kiss to the valley of your breasts before kissing up your throat, feeling the thrumming of your pulse against his lips. He loved just how affected you got from his kisses and touches. He ran a hand over your chest and around your throat, not squeezing but keeping it there for a moment.

You shivered at the way he felt around you, encompassing every one of your senses as you ran your hands along his broad shoulders. Feeling the slightly slicked skin, you tugged him down to you, wanting to feel more of him. Throwing your head back, you couldn’t hold in your delighted nose as you felt his talented tongue and lips on your sensitive neck.

It felt so right to have him press himself against you and suck bruises and marks all along your neck. Everyone who would look at you would know you were taken. Would put two and two together and get the right answer. You didn’t have these hickies when you went into the forest with Wolffe, but you sure as hell had them when you came out of it later.

“Wolffe” you breathed, trying to get his attention on your face rather than sucking purpling marks along your neck. With a sharp pull at his hair, his head popped up and he found himself staring into your beautiful, flushed face. “Please mark me, I want everyone to know who I belong to” you begged, tilting your head to the side so he could have more room to work with.

“Oh, you’re perfect, mesh’la. Everyone will know just exactly who you belong to after this. Know just who it is that can make you feel so good, isn’t that right, mesh’la?” he purred, smiling lips pressed against you.

You hummed in reply, letting out a sigh at the feel of him against the ticklish spot under your ear. Pressing your hips against his, you could feel his hardened length through his blacks grind back down into you.

He worked his way down your body, kissing and grazing his teeth along the way, he seemed determined to make sure that anyone who looked at you would know that you were his, and he was yours. As well as the added bonus of keeping his annoying brothers away from you, was also a positive for him, you were sure.

Letting out a curse as his lips brushed against a ticklish spot, you couldn’t help but giggle and flinch away from him. He chuckled against you, running his hands up and down your sides before laying a wet, smacking kiss to the spot.

“Get off!” you grinned, shoving his head further down your body.

“Oh I’ll get you off, mesh’la” he smirked, looking up to see the playful roll of your eyes.

“All bark but no bite from what I can tell” you teased back, knowing it would work him up.

He huffed, mismatched eyes glinting at you before he returned to his journey down the length of your body. “Kriff, I can’t wait to put bruises all over your pretty skin” he cursed, nipping roughly at your side before running his tongue over the mark soothingly.

You hissed, body shuddering at his rough touch but relaxing back as you felt the warm glide of his tongue against the mark. That one would be staying on you for a while, that’s for sure.

Feeling him reach the edge of your underwear, he took in a deep breath and sighed, the warmth of his breath washing over your sensitive core. Goosebumps erupted over your skin, and Wolffe was quick to soothe them away with his hands. Sitting up on your elbows, you watched as he latched his teeth into the waistline of your underwear and then released them, the sharp sting of the hemline sending fire coursing through you.

“Ready mesh’la?” he asked, stopping what he was doing and looking up at you. He always asked for your consent, even when he was lost in his own passion. He refused to move until you had given your verbal consent. On some nights, it was a wonderful way to tease you both, but you didn’t want to wait now, you wanted to feel his mouth against you.

“Yes! Come on Wolffe” you breathed, trying to writhe your hips underneath him. But he pinned the hips down and gave you a warning look.

“Keep still, you know I enjoy unwrapping you” he ordered, peeling your underwear off you and pulling them down slowly. He groaned at the sight of your slicked entrance and your glistening folds were revealed, the material clinging onto you slightly before he tugged them off you.

Heat rushed to your face, blushing at the look of hunger that was on Wolffe’s own as he stared at your entrance. Your thighs tried to move, to close together to get away from the embarrassment at seeing just how much you affected him. However his hands quickly came up to hold you open for his gaze, hands strong and caring as he bit his lip.

“Mesh’la,” he breathed, staring at your core, “you’re so wet for me, sweetheart.”

Before you could say anything, he got down closer to your entrance, supporting himself on his elbows as he pressed a soft kiss to your thigh. One hand brushed soothing circles on your thigh, the other came to run explorative fingers through your slicked folds.

You sighed at the touch, knowing it was only the start. Wolffe couldn’t get enough of you, and he ate pussy like a man possessed. He always made you see stars with just his mouth and fingers, and you knew this time would not be an exception.

Leaning forward, you felt his warm breath caress your wet entrance, making you shiver at the conflicting sensations. Deciding that his hungry observation was through, Wolffe hooked his two thumbs on your lips and spread you open for him.

“Kriff!” you hissed, reaching down to clutch at him.

“My thoughts exactly, sweetheart” he growled, seeing your puffy folds and dripping entrance on full display for him. He didn’t waste any more time and ducked his head to take your clit into his mouth, giving it a hard suck that had you cursing him at how he went from 1 to 100 on your exposed cunt.

He flicked his tongue against the your button once more before making his way down to your entrance where your juices were pooling. Moaning, he collected them all on his tongue, savouring the taste before he was pushing his tongue inside of you.

All thoughts fled your head as he used his nose to nudge your clit while he drank your arousal straight from the source, seemingly not being able to get enough as he tried to push deeper inside of you.

“Fuck! Kriff! Wolffe, right there, oh!” you cried, tugging on his hair to direct him to a spot that was just aching for his touch. When you felt his tongue massage you there you couldn’t help but arch into him, moans and whines falling from your lips as Wolffe feasted on you.

Wolffe grunted at a particularly hard squeeze of his hair and pulled your legs over his shoulders, getting closer towards the nectar that was dripping from you and spreading all over his jaw. When all that did was have you buck more into his mouth and pull sharply at his curls, Wolffe growled lowly, vibrations shooting straight through your cunt to the heat that was coiling in your stomach.

Withdrawing from your delicious cunt, he grabbed both of your hands and secured them on your stomach, one large hands encompassing both your wrists and pinning them down.

“Wolffe! Please!” you whined, pouting at not being able to touch him for the moment.

“Stay there, or do I have to bring my cuffs out?” he threatened, nipping at your inner thigh in addition.

Kriff, you wouldn’t mind if he got his cuffs out to keep you still, but that would mean he would have to move away from you to get them from his belt. And you really didn’t want him to leave you, even for a moment. Shaking your head, you relaxed back into the grass beneath you.

“Now be a good girl, and let me work” he smirked, eyes all dark and promising.

He went back to eating your cunt, the way he approached it just like he did everything else, with passion, determination and giving it his all. Sucking on your clit, he pressed two fingers inside of your soaking entrance, stretching them out a little as he felt the way you clung onto them.

Moaning at the feeling of him filling you, even if it was just with his fingers, you tried to spread yourself even more for him, desperate to feel him deeper inside of you.

Wolffe groaned, grazing his teeth over your sensitive nub and delighting in the loud cry you let out. He curled his fingers just slightly before pushing them inside of you at a fast pace, opening you up for him even when you were clutching around him, desperate to suck his fingers inside of you.

“Kriff, you’re holding my fingers so tight, it’s like you never want them to leave” he murmured, watching at the way your entrance stretched around his fingers.

“Wolffe!” you panted, flushing heavily at his words as you felt your pleasure reaching it’s peak. “More!” you demanded, hips rising up against the strong hold he had of you.

Wolffe smirked wickedly, glancing up at you to see you looking down with pleasure-hazed eyes, desperate for more to push you over the edge. “Yeah, I’ll give you more sweetheart, but you have to take it like a good girl” he nodded, kissing just above your clit and making you let out a loud curse in frustration.

Chuckling, he entered a third finger inside of you, enjoying the squelching noises as he stretched you further on his fingers.

“FUCK!” you cried, hands tightening into fists as he pinned you down even further.

White-hot pleasure zapped through you as his mouth returned to your clit, growls and moans vibrating against your bundle of nerves. You sobbed our a breath as you felt your core tighten around his fingers, your release building and building until it was all you could do to hold on.

But Wolffe didn’t want that, he wanted you cumming around his fingers, wanted to taste your release on his tongue, hear the beautiful sounds you made as he made you cum. So he crooked his fingers, pounding into your cunt with his fingers at a devastating pace. Keeping his mouth to your clit, he hummed around it, burying his face into your cunt.

The coil inside of you snapped, and wave after wave of pleasure washed over you as you reached your peak. Wolffe helped you through it, drinking down your juices as he licked around his slowing fingers. He pulled them out, licking up your release gently and cleaning you up.

When it got too much, you pushed his head away, panting at how overstimulated you felt. Resting back, you looked up at the darkening canopy, taking in the clouds as they passed by until your breathing got back under control.

Looking down, you could see that Wolffe was resting his head on your thigh, drawing patterns on your hip as he watched you with all the softness and love that Wolffe possessed but couldn’t show anyone else.

“You okay?” he checked in, squeezing your hip in concern.

“Better than okay” you assured, running your fingers through his hairline before coming to trail down the scar that ran over his eye and down his cheek. He closed his eyes and hummed at your soft touch.

“Want to continue?” he asked, keeping his voice level so as to never influence your decision. He would respect whatever it is you wanted to do.

“I would really, really love that” you smiled, pulling him up to meet you in a teasing kiss.

Wolffe grunted, lips pressed hard to yours for a moment before pulling back. “Here” he huffed, reaching behind him for something. “Put this on” he grunted, handing you your officer’s jacket.

“What? Why?” you frowned, slipping your arms into the material and pulling it around you. You left the front open though, not willing to fasten it until Wolffe told you what he was planning.

“Because I’m going to fuck you against that tree” he growled, pressing nibbling kisses along your jaw.

Oh! Well okay then, you’d happily do whatever he wanted if he was going to fuck you within an inch of your life against the tree. Grinning at him, you turned your head to connect your lips together, swallowing his groan as you licked into his mouth. His hands squeezed your hips as your tongue flicked against his, tasting yourself on him.

He pulled away, before helping you both to your feet, where he wrapped an arm around you to pull you close. “You’re so beautiful, I’m so fucking lucky to have you” he murmured, cupping your chin and tilting your head up to him.

“We’re both lucky” you reminded him, wiping away a bead of sweat that was pooling on his temple. The pair of you had a light sheen of sweat covering you but you didn’t care, just as long as you could feel Wolffe’s body pressed against your own.

Wolffe nodded in agreement before backing you up against one of the large trees. Even if you wrapped both arms around it’s trunk you wouldn’t be able to connect your hands together. It was massive, and it was perfect for you and Wolffe.

Looking back at him with a playful grin, you leant back against the trunk, making sure to expose your neck to him so he could see all the lovely marks he had decorated you with. “Well, Commander, now that we’re not going to be interrupted, I thought you promised you’d fuck me” you teased him, running a hand between your breasts.

Letting out a low growl, he stalked towards you, pressing you back against the tree as he attacked your lips, hands running down your sides roughly before flicking your stiffened peaks with his thumbs, pinching your nipple afterwards.

It had you gasping, eyes squeezed shut at the burst of pleasure-pain that shot through you. He took advantage of that, slipping his tongue inside of your mouth and devouring you. As he continued to kiss you, his hands slid to your waist and gripped them tightly.

“Jump!” he ordered, and you could do nothing but obey as you leapt up and wrapped your legs around his waist as he caught you.

You slid your arms around the back of his neck, holding on tightly to him as he nuzzled your noses together. Being this pressed against him, you could feel his hardened length slide through your drenched folds, the tip of his member tapping against your clit.

“Kriffing hells Wolffe!” you gritted out, tightening your hold around his waist.

“I know, mesh’la, can’t wait to be inside of you” he groaned, resting his forehead against yours for a moment before he gritted his teeth. “Guide me in sweetheart” he instructed, as he kept you up.

Biting your lip, you reached down between you and wrapped your hand around his velvety, throbbing length. He was so hard, he must be desperate to feel you around him. Giving him a few teasing pumps that had him cursing up a storm, you notched the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Such a tease, mesh’la. Won’t be laughing when I’m through with you” he warned, pushing further into you. It felt like he was spearing you open, carving room for himself inside of you so that you had no other choice but to let him in. He sighed when he was fully in you, groaning at the feel of you fluttering around him as you got used to his size.

It really did feel like he was claiming you, making sure every inch of you was touching him. The top of his cock brushed against that special spot and you couldn’t wait for him to actually move, to feel the force of his thrusts as he took you against the tree.

Wolffe grunted, sliding his arms under your knees and lifting them up from his waist. You gasped, clutching onto his neck tighter as you was suspended in the air, the only thing holding you up was the tree and Wolffe’s strong arms. It left you completely exposed to him and you dropped down lower on his cock. Your eyes rolled back as you felt him deeper than you’d ever felt him before.

“Oh! Wolffe! Feel you in the back of my throat” you cried out, squeezing the back of his neck and trying to take deep breaths into your lungs, but it didn’t seem to be working. Wolffe was making you breathless. Every twitch of movement, every warm breath that fanned across yours as he panted out. It was making it harder and harder to think, to say anything but his name.

“This what you needed mesh’la? Someone to ruin you and put you back together again” he groaned out, pulling his hips away before thrusting back into you.

You hissed, clenching around his cock at both his words and the feel of him inside of you.

“Oh!” Wolffe groaned, jaw tightening at the way you tightened around him even more. “I can feel how much you like that, sweetheart. Can feel how tight you got around me” Wolffe growled, withdrawing from you slowly, hissing out a breath at the way you seemed to clutch onto him, not wanting him to leave your warm, slick hole.

“Please…. Please Wolffe” you begged, nails digging little crescent marks into his bronzed shoulders.

“Alright then, mesh’la, if that’s what you want” he smirked, thrusting back into you roughly.

You screamed, eyes rolling back at the way he pistoned his hips in and out of you, not giving you a moment to recover before he was thrusting in again. With every thrust, it felt like he was hitting your cervix, as deep as he had ever got and you could do nothing more than take it as he held you up.

The sharp bark was muted as you bounced up and down, and you took a second to appreciate Wolffe’s concerns for you and the way he wanted to protect you even when he was fucking you halfway across the galaxy. You whimpered, hand coming to weave it’s way into his curls and pull sharply on them.

Wolffe let out a growl, and your eyes shot open to meet his warm brown orb and his cold, white cybernetic eye. “That’s it, look at me! Look who’s doing this to you” he ordered, sweat beading down his chest now at how hard he was fucking into you.

“KRIFF! There! Don’t… don’t stop!” you shouted, not caring if anyone heard you. Wolffe felt too good inside of you, the way the tip of his cock rubbed against the spot on your clenching walls and was shoving you closer and closer to your next release.

Wolffe grunted animalistically, lips coming to press against yours. It wasn’t the most graceful of kisses, but it was enough, and you whined as his teeth sunk into your lip. “Never stopping… won’t ever” he gasped out, resting his head on your shoulder to look down at where you were both joined. He could hear the slick squelches as he pushed in, could see the way your arousal was bubbling around the base of his cock. He moaned loudly, bringing his gaze back up to you as he felt his balls tighten and pull up.

“Touch yourself, want you to touch your pretty. Little. Clit” he demanded, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust inside.

You couldn’t do anything but nod, thoughts flying out of you as you slipped a hand between you and felt your swollen bundle of nerves. Another moan escaped Wolffe as you travelled further down, brushing against his cock as he slammed into you.

“Kriff! Sweetheart! I said touch yourself” he snapped, as he felt his own release get closer and closer.

Huffing out a laugh at his reaction, you brushed your fingertips against your clit, rubbing them in tight circles, just the way you liked.

“Wolffe!” you cried out, feeling the coil inside of you begging to snap.

“That’s it, fuck. Keep going, want to feel you cum on my cock” he cursed, pounding into you now and squeezing bruises onto your legs from where he was holding you up.

The increase in pace was just what you needed and you couldn’t help but stiffen in his arms, arching against him as much as possible as your release washed over you in crashing waves. You heard yourself scream out Wolffe’s name but it was distant to the ringing in your ears as you clenched around him.

Wolffe groaned, the fluttering of your muscles around him enough to tip him over. You let out a cry as Wolffe clamped down on your shoulder, teeth digging into your flesh as his hips stuttered against yours, hot cum shooting into your clenching channel, milking him for every drop.

Slowly, he lowered you both to the forest floor so that you could both catch your breaths. Wolffe pulled you into his lap, his cock softening inside of you and buried his face into your neck. Sighing, you collapsed further into him, letting yourself relax as he traced patterns up and down your spine. It was enough to send you into a light sleep, all the energy zapped out of you because of Wolffe’s little rendezvous in the forest.

“You okay?” he rumbled, you felt the question more so than heard it.

“You might have to carry me back, my legs aren’t working” you mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

He chuckled, reaching over for his belt and pulling it over to you. Cracking open an eye but refusing to budge from his spot against you for the moment, Wolffe pulled out a water canteen and a ration bar.

Grumbling at having to move away from his furnace like body, you took the ration bar from him and broke it in two. However, instead of accepting his half off you, he pushed the canteen into your hand.

“Drink first” he instructed, lips tugging upwards as you sighed heavily and did what you were told.

As soon as the water touched your lips, you gulped it down greedily, quite worn out after the thorough fucking in this god-awful heat.

“Next time, we fuck in the snow, or the ice. I don’t care as long as I never have to feel this hot again” you complained, passing the canteen back to him. You began to nibble on your ration bar when Wolffe shot a pointed look at it.

He laughed at your words, something deep and low but affectionate nonetheless. “You won’t be saying that when your shebs start to freeze” he reminded, pinching at your ass. He grinned as you flinched away from him, flicking his chest and pouting at him.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll just have to take me back to your tent and keep them warm, won’t you Commander?” you rolled your eyes, watching him gulp down his ration bar in a couple of bites. You don’t know how he did it. They were god awful, the taste both bland and the foulest that you’d ever experienced. But Wolffe seemed immune as he finished his own.

“Come on, mesh’la, as much as I want to keep you here, we’d best be getting back to base before they start looking for us” he sighed, lifting you up off his cock.

You grimaced at the feeling of your combined releases dripping down your thigh. “Ugh, I’m jumping in the refresher as soon as we get back” you grumbled, shaking your head as you located your clothes. You swiftly pulled them on, even if they did feel like they were sticking to you now that they had chance to soak up the moisture in the air.

“In the common refreshers?” Wolffe raised an eye, tugging on his armour quick and efficiently.

“Yeah, you’re making sure that no one else comes in” you told him, watching as his cheeks seemed to flush. As if the thought of his brothers seeing you naked and covered in all of his marks was more embarrassing as to not 10 minutes ago when he was fucking you through the tree.

“Yes ma’am” he leered, pinching your ass as you walked past him back to camp.

Rolling your eyes and rubbing your backside you realised something very quickly. “Er, Wolffe, you do know the way back, right?” you wondered, as the sky began to darken and you weren’t too sure where to go.

“Come on sweetheart, I’ll get us back” he assured, placing his helmet over his head. He came over to take your hand in his own once more, his warm, calloused palm against yours as he led you back the way you had came, no doubt following the path his HUD had set for him.

When you got back to camp, you found Boost, Comet and Sinker around a campfire, chuckling amongst themselves as they cleaned their blasters. They took one look at you both before bursting into laughter, Comet staring open mouthed at the sight before him.

Frowning, you looked down, wondering why they looked like they were busting a gut at the sight of you. However, as you did, you noticed the bioluminescent pollen covering all over you. There was some over all your clothes and attached to Wolffe’s grey and white armour, lighting it up in an array of different colours. It must have transferred over to them when your clothes had been thrown off and you were making love in the flowerbed.

“Damn Commander, Lieutenant, looks like you’ve been rolling around in the stuff” Sinker smirked, holding back his continuous chuckles as he took you in.

“What was you doing to get it all over you like that?” Boost added, winking at you both and snorting as you flushed a bright red. It matched the streak of red pollen across your chest, some of it shaped like a hand.

Wolffe stiffened beside you and you knew that he had had enough of his brothers’ teasing. They seemed to notice as well because Sinker and Boost instantly stopped, and Comet didn’t know whether he should try and melt into the background or put some distance between him and his brothers. Luckily for him, Comet was Wolffe’s favourite and normally got out of any punishment – the same couldn’t be said for the other members of the Wolffe pack.

“That’s it. Latrine duty for the both of you!” Wolffe snapped, glaring at his younger brothers as they spluttered out protests and apologies.

#commander wolffe #wolffe #wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x reader #star wars #tcw wolffe #tbb wolffe #clone trooper wolffe #sw tcw #the clone wars #clone wars #tcw #star wars tcw #star wars the clone wars #kinktober 2024

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paimonial-rage · 7 months ago

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tryst - furina

[random writing event] | requested by anon

Really, at over five hundred years old, it shouldn’t have excited her as much as it did. She used to be the god of Fontaine, after all. She did many crazy and fascinating things in her lifetime. Not to mention the sheer amount of plays and operas she’s been in. Being before a crowd nearly every moment in her life gave her confidence she could handle anything life threw at her. So how embarrassing it was to admit that out of everything she experienced, nothing could prepare her for this.

“It’s not much longer now,” you encouraged as you led her by hand up the path, intertwining your fingers with hers.

As you looked back at her with that frankly adorable grin, your eyes sparkled in the light of the full moon. It was late out, much later to what she was used to. And the way you kept your voice low only added to the excitement of the moment. It felt forbidden, taboo, like she would be reprimanded if anyone found out. She knew it was dumb, but nothing could stop her heart from beating out of her chest.

You didn’t know her. At least, you only met her a few days ago. She was a newcomer to Liyue and you were the kind soul that took it upon yourself to show her around the harbor. You had no reason to. You weren’t hired to do so. But upon hitting it off with her at an outdoor eatery, you invited her to walk around with you to enjoy the festival atmosphere. And now here you were a few days later leading her to, what you considered to be, the best place to watch the Lantern Rite.

And dare she say it again, you didn’t know her. All you knew her as was “Furina.” To you, she wasn’t the ex-Hydro Archon. She wasn’t the famed actress and opera singer. She simply was Furina. And how addicting it was. Gone was the need for propriety. Hesitation and reverence were no longer hers to bear. Your smiles and warmth belonged solely to her. To Furina, just Furina.

The moment you reached the top of the hill overlooking all of Liyue Harbor, off in the distance, the first lantern took to the sky. Then one more, and another. And then soon the whole sky was full.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered before she knew it.

You laughed gently and squeezed her hand.

“Would you like to light one too?” You asked, gesturing to the side with your free hand.

There was a Mingxiao Lantern, beautiful and ornate. But she hesitated.

“But… Is it okay? I… I’m not from Liyue…” she mumbled.

You smiled reassuringly.

“Of course. No matter where we’re from, we all have people we’d like to honor and remember, right?”

If only you know how much she did. A part of her wished to ask if she had that right. Was it okay for her to pray for all the people she lost? All the people she failed? But when you gazed at her with that softness in your eyes, she remembered once more who she was to you. Who you allowed her to be. Perhaps not as Focalors, but as Furina, she was allowed to grieve.

So with unsteady hands, she lit the lantern. And with your hands over hers, she let it float up into the sky. And as it drifted off farther and farther away, there she stood with you by her side.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #anon #my writing #writing event #request #furina #furina x reader #i’m so sorry this took so long anon #actually i had this finished for a while but i wanted to post this with something else haha;;;;#sorry this started romantic at first and then went into more heartwarming? idk how that happened

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kittynugg · 13 days ago

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heyyyy guess what i write sometimes too

words: 3,821 im really rusty with writing so uhh read up idk

Stanford Pines had always been a loner.

The stone-cold, action movie hero type of man who never needed anything from anybody. Certainly not companionship.

It was dark. Eleven-thirty, an hour after his niece and nephew had finally stopped bugging him. The boy, who had introduced himself as “Dopper”, “Roderick”, and “Dipper”, had asked him enough questions to make his head spin and English stop making sense to him. And he enjoyed answering questions!

The jury was still out on his name.. All of those seemed cruel to name a child, especially “Roderick”. What he did know for sure was that his nephew was rather sharp for his age. Hence the gratuitous questions.

Mabel, whose name he knew from the girl repeatedly introducing herself in what almost seemed to be a sugar-fueled record skip, asked more about rather childish things like his favorite color (red) and animal (plaidypus). Then, of course, Stanley shooed them away come ten-thirty so they could go to bed and he could have a moment of peace.

Several hours of peace.

Thank the stars.

He decided to spend these hours awake so as to savor them. Also because he couldn't seem to get to sleep, but that wasn't the focus of his reasoning. The nonstop questions, the footsteps pounding on the floor above him and voices shriek-laughing, it was miserable. And Stan had done his best to keep them away from him! It was preferable, yet almost offensive.. Like he was some kind of monster they needed to be protected from.

“As far as I'm concerned, they're the only family I have left.” Fine. Maybe he was a monster. But he was a monster with a job to finish; dismantling the portal. He’d spent the hour since the kids had gone to bed at work, and a well-deserved break was in order.

And so he found himself in the kitchen. Pitch darkness was broken by the refrigerator light as he opened it up and sifted through it. He moved a box of Pitt Cola aside to find a rather captivating prize in the back of the fridge, a six-pack of beer with a sticky-note reading “STAN’S B SODA DO NOT TOUCH” attached to the cardboard handle of the carrier.

Now, Ford was never quite fond of alcohol, but it had been thirty years since he’d tasted Earth alcohol. A mix of curiosity, temptation and the desire to stick it to his brother that person living upstairs won over the simple thought of “I don’t really like this stuff.”

Also he didn’t want to think about why he couldn’t sleep and stress was a bitch.

A six-fingered hand carefully removed the sticky note, and he took out a pen to write on it.

“Very convincing, Knucklehead. -Stanford Pines” was written in neat cursive. He took a bottle of “soda” from the pack and stuck the square of yellow paper back onto it. With the beer in-hand and his journal tucked away in his coat for writing, he realized he would need a private place to unwind. The basement was stuffy. Clearly Stan hadn’t taken care of the ventilation system. Another one of his messes he would have to clean up.

The ideal place would have fresh, cool air, and no “family” to bother him. Unlike that person living upstairs, he didn’t have family. He’d left that behind years ago. There simply wasn’t room for family in his life, not with the dark path he trekked. Destiny wanted him alone and so alone he was.

He dramatically looked to the window as he tried to sip from his closed beer bottle, then glared at it as if it’d dampened his melodramatic display on purpose. But then his eyes darted back up to the window. Fresh air, check. It was outside in the woods. No family, check. Everyone was asleep anyway.

Bingo! He would sit outside for a while! With a pinch of luck, Stan hadn’t removed the ladder leading up to the roof. A beer and journaling in the great outdoors. That was just what he needed tonight.

A short walk into the, ugh, gift shop led him to where the ladder used to reside, now obscured by a blue curtain but still there. The bottle was stored in his coat (it had the perfect little pocket for it, he normally stored a gun in it) so he could climb the ladder with both hands.

He opened up the hatch in the ceiling to poke his head out and look around, and once he was sure nothing was there to watch him he pulled himself up and through. Aged roof tiles nearly slipped out from under his feet as he stepped onto them. Stan’s laziness was going to kill him someday, he swore to god.

Or.. Whatever was up there, he thought as he looked to the stars.

There was a nice, flat edge he could sit on above one of the attic windows. And when he glanced up there, he even saw a chair and cooler! Absolutely not the doing of that person- Stan, too wordy, because Stan was deathly afraid of heights. And the large one (Zeus?) seemed to listen to whatever he said. The only person left to be the culprit had to have been the teenage girl working the counter, Mabel and his nephew were out of the question. Too short and weak to bring anything up there.

Wendy, on the other hand, was the daughter of “Boyish Dan” Corduroy, and he’d seen that man in the gift shops. No longer boyish, and no longer non threatening. He could snap a person in half like a toothpick and then use them as a toothpick. Logically, his children would inherit that strength.

He climbed onto the edge and parked himself up on the chair. A relaxed sigh broke the near-silence of the night, only crickets and the rustling of wind through trees serving to serenade him.

Until he heard the pitter-patter of footsteps. Light ones, and they made muted clicks against the floor below the open hatch. He recognized the sound as Mabel’s slippers. So he wasn’t surprised when he saw her head poke up to look around. Surprised that she was awake, maybe, but not surprised that it was her.

When they locked eyes for a second Ford quickly looked away, figuring that eye contact would make her come closer and knowing that he didn't want that, then opened up his beer.

Ignore it and it might go away.

Unfortunately for his me-time she did not. Instead, she climbed up herself, smiling at him as if it wasn't far past her bedtime. She didn't even look tired. A sip was taken from the brown glass bottle, he figured he would need it even more now- oh that tasted disgusting.

“Grunkle Ford!” The girl skipped up to him with practiced ease. Not a single tile shifted under her feet, which prompted him to wonder how she did it. He didn’t get the chance to ask before she flung herself beside him onto the lawn chair. It nearly tipped over with the force, causing him to flinch and shoot a subtle glare at her anything-but-subtle.. self.

She looked at him with a pair of wide, innocent eyes. “You come up here, too?” Asked Mabel with a glance down at his beer. The way her brows furrowed indicated that she knew what it was, and why he might be drinking it alone in the middle of the night. So what if he was a little stressed? “Wendy comes up here to get out of doing stuff at work..” Her eyes flicked back up to his face with the addition.

He took a drink, then got off of the chair so she could fully sit. Maybe she’d put a damper on his night but she didn’t deserve to be cramped on the edge of the chair or on the roof tiles. And maybe he didn’t want to be cramped on a chair with her. Human contact (or any contact with a living being that didn’t involve violence) had become– Was always very foreign to him. Standing with one arm folded behind his back and the other holding his bottle, he spoke.

“I did take her for the aloof type.” Like all teenagers, Wendy was uncaring and scared him with her insincere compliments and new age “computing phone”. He could name a single teenager who he wasn’t afraid of and that teenager had grown up to be a waste. “I don’t usually come up here, no, but I would before your other Uncle came along.”

The discouraged look that flashed behind her eyes wasn’t unnoticed by Ford, despite how quickly it was replaced with determination. A determination that made him nervous. “You mean Grunkle Stan.” With insistence masked by harmlessness she smiled up at him. Like the correction wasn’t at all hostile.

“..Right. Stanley,” relented Stanford before sitting on the roof tiles to be a little closer to her level. She didn’t seem satisfied by that, and gestured expectantly for him to continue. What? What else was he supposed to say? “What, what’s this?” He mimicked the movements of her hands with an arched eyebrow.

Apparently that was the wrong answer, he assumed, watching as her eyes narrowed at him. “And who is Stan?”

“..Your.. Great Uncle? We went over this seconds ago.” He’d have to run some tests later, he was concerned for her memory.

Luckily, she elaborated, “who is he to you?” Ah. She could have just said that was what she wanted. He didn’t even think about his answer before it slipped from his mouth. “My twin brother.”

“That’s right!” Mabel jumped up with a beam, yelping at the chair nearly toppling over. Acting on reflex he placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. Once she was stable again, he moved away and resumed his original position, hands subtly and habitually hidden behind his back.

“Be careful,” he scolded, “a fall from that height is enough to break bones.” ..Said the one drinking alcohol, which stunted one’s coordination. Maybe he was being a hypocrite. Nevertheless his statement was still valid, he was much better equipped to fall off of a roof than her.

A sheepishly muttered apology from her sent a pang of.. Was that guilt? Yes, he felt guilty for scolding her. If these kids were going to be living under his roof for a while, he supposed he’d have to get used to scolding them in a way that didn’t cause fear or shame. That never worked on Stan when they were young.

It must have been why he ended up so.. Unruly, into adulthood. Because he lacked the proper discipline.

No use dwelling on it, he needed to find out what Mabel was doing up. Sleep was crucial to a growing child and by the looks of it neither of the children had been getting enough. “What are you doing awake? It’s an hour past your bedtime.”

His eyes barely caught a mischievous smirk plastered on the girl’s face before she turned her head. Then she looked back at him with that same ‘I’m an angel and would never do anything wrong!’ face, but this time with a hint of.. Sorrow?

“Grunkle Ford.. Do you ever feel, um..” The vulnerable tone she spoke in hit him right in the hardwired paternal instincts. ”Sad?” As she continued it seemed almost like another little sparkle appeared in those eyes of hers, which didn’t help

Naturally, in spite of his.. Awkwardness around children, or humans in general, he hoped to curb this sadness. What to say, though? According to his research females were at higher risk of experiencing depressive symptoms than males. With any luck this “sadness” she spoke of wouldn’t be related to that. She was getting to the age where he’d started experiencing.. Mental troubles of the like.

“Occasionally,” he decided upon answering, “but sadness is an emotion everyone exper-”

She interrupted him. “That isn’t really what I mean.” Hm. That wasn’t looking good for the depression theory. “I mean, like.. Lost? And kinda alone?”

He pretended to consider her question, though immediately knowing the answer. Did he feel lost? Yes. Give him time, he’d find himself. Did he feel alone? Yes, but it was better that way. His life was too dangerous to share with another person.

So he answered, “well, yes. But you have your brother by your side. You aren’t alone at all.” Always a confusing feeling. Loneliness despite being surrounded by people. Oddly enough, he didn’t seem to feel that now. “Have you been feeling that way?”

“I know I’ve got Dipper,” ah, so that was his name, “but do you have anyone? I heard you and Stan talking. You don’t sound really happy.” Her brows knitted together as she seemed to scrutinize his expression, an expression that had gone just as thoughtful as hers. A little offended, frankly.

This wasn’t about him. Since when was this about him?

He was perfectly happy, for her information. Dusty old college textbooks, paranormal creatures and the fungi growing in the basement that made him woozy were enough company for him.

“I have the cycloptopus, it’s..” words trailing off, he remembered that the cycloptopus wasn’t a good conversationalist and liked escaping its jar to try and eat his flesh. It was actually kind of a jerk if you asked him.

Mabel finished his sentence for him, “a weird creepy monster that doesn’t count?”A little amused grin worked its way into her features. “You need a person! Then you won’t feel alone anymore!”

He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off in a reprimanding tone. “A human person. Like.. Someone you’ve known for a really long time!” She made a circular gesture with her hands, seeming to expect him to get a point she was trying to make. “Someone you’ve known since, I don’t knooooow.. The womb..?”

“I don’t follow,” admitted Ford with hunched shoulders. Since the womb.. Who had he known “since the womb”?

As it would turn out, that was not the response she was looking for, made evident by the palm she slapped to her forehead. The smile remained on her face but felt.. Customer service-like. Forced. “Someone you know really well. Or, at least, you did.. You’ve gotta know who I’m talking about.”

“I.. I really don’t, Mabe-” and then it hit him! “..You want me to reconcile with Stanley because you think I’m lonely.” That called for a nice, big drink of his beer. What a laughable request! Stan ruined his life and she wanted him to walk up to him and treat him like a person!? After he sold his soul to this “Mystery Shack” nonsense, Ford wasn’t sure if he could still call himself a person. But Mabel seemed almost excited at his correct assumption.

She chirped, “yeah! You said I have Dipper, but you don’t have anyone right now.” An empathetic gaze was directed up at him. “Wouldn’t it be a little better if you and Stan stopped being all stupid with each other?” Being called stupid hurt his (extremely) delicate ego. “..You know you’re kind of a dum-dum. And it just makes me kinda sad.” She despairingly looked at her feet.

Ooh, there were those paternal instincts again. Something about the glum look in her eyes implored him to just.. Fix it. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t annoying. With a sigh, he looked at his bottle, then poured it out over the edge. The bottle was set on the roof beside him when it was void of the bitter liquid he’d been drinking. Beer was awful, anyway.

“..Maybe I’m being a little rash, sweetie,” that slipped out, but caused Mabel’s expression to light up just a little. “Sweetie”. Ignore it. You aren’t getting attached to them, they’ll be gone in Autumn. “But you can’t expect me to just forgive Stanley.” For all he’d done? Hah! He’d have to be insane to even think about it.

She laughed softly at him, like it was silly he’d even say that. “Not yet, Grunkle Ford! I get mad at Dipper sometimes, too.” Tiny hands rose to fidget with her hair. “And it’s really hard to get over that. I think if Dipper ruined my dreams, then pushed me into some crazy-bonkers nightmare dimension I’d be mad at him for, like, a bazillion years!” Her shoulders arched in a shrug. “But we always say we’re sorry and hug it out after we’re done being big ‘ol grumps about it.”

A “big ‘ol grump”. She was calling him a “big ‘ol grump”.

“And then we’re happy again! Being all mad at Dipper is the worst, you can’t like being mad at Stan all the time.” It wasn’t something he explicitly enjoyed, no, but it was necessary.

..Send him to the Theraprism, damnit, he’d finally lost it.

Ford ran a stressed, slightly uncoordinated hand through his hair. Certainly the alcohol was influencing this, but.. “Okay, you make a good point. I admit, I’m.. Not ready to reconcile with him. But when I am, I will.” He smiled faintly at her.

“Are you sure you’re gonna?” Mabel raised an eyebrow and squinted at him. “..I’m putting on my skepticals.” Then she made circles around her eyes with her fingers. He’d be damned, they did make her seem rather skeptical.

So, he used an age-old technique that would surely convince her. “..Pinky-promise,” he crouched to her level, extending his extra finger. “This one’s a full finger more sincere.” A warm chuckle sealed the deal.

Or, well, Mabel’s giggle and pinky wrapped around his did.

“Pinky-promise.”

Ford tugged his sweater sleeves down and took a breath. It’d been four days since Weirdmageddon and one since Stan finally remembered him, finally remembered at least some of the good times and.. The worst of the bad.

Since the moment Mabel’s “scrapbook therapy” sessions began to focus on him he’d been apologizing, but they’d all been met with confusion. “Yeah, uh.. I don’t even know what you did.” Now that Stan knew who he was he figured now would be a good time to make good on that pinky-promise.

“Stanley?” He piped up, head poking into the living room. The television blared with the latest “The Duchess Approves” movie (which was probably made in the Jurassic era) and Stan was parked up on the armchair watching it.

Without even looking up, Stan greeted, “hey, Ford.” Surprisingly, the lack of attention and aloofness in his voice were comforting. He didn’t have to think about who the man in front of him was, he wasn’t tentative, he seemed to just know Ford as his brother.

The folding chair beside him attracted Stanford like a moth to a flame. He invited himself to sit on it and turned to Stan, then idly turned to watch the movie with him.

“You are insufferable, Lionel!” Boomed the Duchess, slipping the diamond wedding ring off of her finger. “If you only want me for riches I suggest you sell this.” She flicked the ring across the table without even looking up at the count’s shocked expression.

As she stood, she adjusted her hat and sharply turned to leave. “Good day.”

“But- But Duchess, you must reconsider!” Count Lionel stood to give chase–

And that was about when the movie lost his attention. It was so dry, the script must have taken ten minutes to write! He looked at Stan; completely engrossed in the crappy movie. “So..” he cleared his throat a couple of times to get his twin’s attention. When he grumpily turned to him, he spoke. “I understand that you’re very absorbed in your movie,” muttered Ford apologetically, “but I’d like to talk about the past forty-or-so years.”

“Eh.” A hand was waved at him. “After the movie.”

He didn’t think he had a choice, so he miserably looked back at the television.

The next ten minutes were painful. But, well, it was only ten minutes and he’d certainly been tortured with worse and for longer. Four days ago. His hands subconsciously moved to rub his arms at the thought. A relieved sigh escaped him as the movie finally ended, and Stan gave him his attention.

“Good movie, right?” He nudged his shoulder. “Ah, past forty years or whatever, let’s talk.” An arm was slung over the armrest, Stan making himself comfortable.

Ford gave a muttered, lied comment about the movie being “okay” and rested his hands in his lap. “I figured I should.. Give a formal apology. For..” He subtly consulted the written topic on his palm. ‘BEING MEAN AND BAD’ was written in pink gel pen by Mabel minutes before he entered the living room.

That did not help.

“..being a bad brother.” He’d been horrible, really, he was supposed to protect Stan as his older brother (every minute counts with twins) but instead he went and ruined his life. “I don’t know how I could ever make it up to you, or repay you for bringing me back, I–”

He was silenced by a barked laugh from Stanley. “Repay me? Jeez, you think I’m some kinda loan shark?” A snort slipped past his defenses with the laughter, not without a grumbled ‘ew’.

Ford, of course, figured that was exactly how it was, so he slowly nodded.

“..Moses– I don’t want shit from you. You being alive’s enough for me.” His words weren’t without a glance around to ensure that there weren’t any kids around. Then he shifted to wrap an arm around Ford’s shoulders and tug him into a little side-hug.

That was a feeling Stanford missed, so he leaned into it. He couldn’t help a mumbled protest to Stan’s acceptance, “but I ruined your life. Twice! No, three times now.” The project, the portal, and the memory erasure during Weirdmageddon. Thinking about them all in quick succession gave him a churning feeling in his stomach that he hated.

And yet, Stan shrugged it off. “And? I ruined your life too. You ask me, I should be the one sayin’ sorry.” Oh, please. Ford almost laughed at that. Giving everything he had was enough of an apology for the rest of his twin’s life. He just hoped he could share that life with him.

“No, Stanley.. I honestly feel my life’s been improved significantly. Dipper and Mabel have been delightful, not to mention you–” Once again he was rudely interrupted, this time with a rough pat on the head.

“See what I mean? I’m glad you’re here too. That’s all I want.” His eyes flicked back to the TV as the credits for some other awful period drama came on. “Ooh, this is a good one.”

As the screen slowly stole Stan’s attention from Ford, he thought about his words. Just being there? That was all Stan wanted?

..He could do that.

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