#quick t edit

[jeeyuns]

athena grant sexy shoulders appreciation society

[not-equippedforthis]

i am aware this would most likely never ever happen but can you imagine spock giving kirk a back/neck rub - as he so clearly expects - and accidentally vulcan pinching him. slumps. ah. i did not intend to do that. bridge goes silent. cap's down. someone douse him with water or something

[freetobeafcknriot]

YOUNG BEN & VIKTOR HARGREEVES IN THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY SEASON FOUR EPISODE FOUR (2024)

because i can count the things i liked about season four on one hand and one of them is definitely viktor hanging out in (og) ben's room and trying on his domino mask as ben does his own thing and lets him, the two of them sharing comfortable quiet.

[dykealloy]

the ecstasy of gold

[bakageyama-s]

Kabru 🤝🏽 FE3H Claude

You agree?

[theshadowrealmitself]

I know it’s because AOS is action/adventure movies, so of course we don’t get to see the characters relaxed and have their peaceful moments balanced out with adventure like we do in TOS

But, because it’s funnier to me,

I like to think that the new universe is just so much more chaotic

Like Spock Prime gets a distressed call from Jim, screaming about whales and he’s like “oh that’s so much quicker than in my universe, but we had the same problem” and Jim’s like “You also had terrifying violent whale-like creatures swimming in space and eating spaceships???” while there’s sounds of loud crunching off screen

Even the chess battles between Spock and Jim have the intensity of the tennis scene from dn except way gayer, nothing like the calmness of TOS, it’s all just so much more chaotic

[koushirouizumi]

D I G I M O N Adventure ~ KouxTai {x Txt Post(s) M e m e}

{Cap'd by Me} {DO NOT RE-POST} {DO NOT COPY} (Please ASK to Use/Share!)

[isitovernow-ootw]

you are the best thing that's ever been mine

[izzy-b-hands]

Last lines of a fic my beloathed

[ranger-kellyn]

went back and re-totaled all my story ideas and like.....why am i like this

[jeeyuns]

Firefighter Paramedics Han & Wilson responding to your call

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ i'll give you the fire i keep inside ❞

up to the challenge : ⌞no nut november⌝ edition [ pt 2 - pt 3 - pt 4 ]

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : gojo satoru + geto suguru

☾₊‧⁺...cw : pussy eating, praise kink, begging, premature ejaculation, clothed sex, whiny reader (gojo), smug reader (geto), satoru overestimating himself, suguru 'just the tip' geto

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : it's nowhere near november, but i need to write this. it's based off an old post of mine from 4 years ago! so, i have no excuse 🖤

✧ g. satoru lasts : 2 days

oh, satoru is so confident that he'll easily make it through the entirety of november. the moment he coos to you about how excited he is to participate in 'no nut november' as a challenge against suguru, he's walking around with his chest puffed out. however, he doesn't take into account that you'd be a little upset after he tells you, thinking you have to go a whole month without sex with your boyfriend. but everyone knows satoru is the best boyfriend, right? he'd neeeever let his pretty lil' mochi feel unsatisfied. so, on the second day of November, he's got you up on the kitchen counter, mouth buried between your thighs as he practically devours your cunt, messily licking and sucking at your clit as his eyes roll back just from the taste of you. after all, there's no way he'd lose this way!

it had only been two days since satoru had fucked you, how were you this wet and needy? you were dripping down his chin, soaking his fucking face, and god, he was in heaven. "c'mon, baby, grind that clit into my mouth," he fucking whines, kissing your pussy between slurps, hands holding you spread open for him to keep testing you. satoru's so hard, it hurts, his cock rubbing and twitching against the rough fabric of his sweatpants, but he couldn't touch, he wouldn't let himself. he'd be fine, all he needed was to make sure he made his baby cum. "hhf, 't-toru, 'toruuuu, i-i miss you, i miss youuu," you pitifully whine, pretty eyes filling with tears as you grew closer and closer to cumming all over his face. but just hearing you say that you miss him when it hasn't even been a fucking week almost makes satoru cum, almost. "baby, babyyy, don't say that shit," satoru whimpers, about to pull away from your dripping slit, dizzy from your words. but you don't let him, no, not when you're this close. with the cutest little huff, you look him right in his pretty blue eyes and grab a fistful of his hair, smashing his mouth right back against your cunt as you cry his name. and oh, the noise he lets out against your pussy feels so gooddd, feeling his tongue desperately licking up your cum. god, you were practically suffocating him. all that Satoru could process was you, you, you. jesus, he didn't think he'd be able to leave you alone the rest of the month, not when just going two days got you this desperate...he really was fucking you that good that you got addicted, huh? it's okay because honestly? he missed your pussy so fucking much. "'toru, satoruuu, p-please, i-i don't like this challenge anymore, miss when you stuff me w-with your cum," you whine as you ride out the last waves of your orgasm, giving him one last tug into your pussy so his mouth was right over your clit. have you always been this fucking whiny and demanding? god, satoru couldn't remember. but, you didn't realize how seriously all the tugging and those filthy, desperate words of yours would affect him. hell, he didn't know how badly it would affect him. once he separates himself from you, he's avoiding eye contact, and he's getting red. embarrassed. flustered. all it took was a quick glance down to see what the issue was. "b-baby, you...i just...how—" "'toru, did you cum in your pants?"

✧ g. suguru lasts : 2.5 weeks

the only reason suguru decided to participate in this was because satoru roped him into it. not that he didn't think he could do it, but because he knew satoru was going to lose against him. he's so thankful that you're nothing but supportive, eager for him to win this challenge with the promise of a reward of his choosing once he made it to December 1st. it's honestly not that hard. as long as he's able to still be affectionate with you, suguru is content. sure, sometimes he has to stop his imagination, but otherwise, he's fine. at least, that's until he comes home to you wearing the cutest purple thigh highs with little skulls on them. it starts off with suguru pulling you closer, making you stand between his legs as his hands rub up and down your plush thighs...but next thing you know, your legs are over his shoulders as he drags his cock up and down your slit.

"just—just the tip, okay? i can't put anymore in, princess." "suguruuuuu, just! put it in! stop teasing!" those pretty legs of yours would always be his downfall, suguru could never resist them. there wasn't anything even sexual about it, but just seeing how they squeezed your thighs so perfectly...he couldn't help himself. but if he only let himself put the tip of his dick inside that tight little hole of yours, he'd be fine...yeah, he just needed a small feel, and he'd be fine. without any more hesitation, suguru slowly sunk into your puffy pussy, letting out a shaky groan as his head fell down onto your shoulder. shit, shit, shit, it was only the tip, but you felt so good, too fucking good. "g-god, why's this cunt so wet and warm, baby? it's not fair," suguru hissed, lifting his head to look down to where you both were connected. "s'not my fault you wanted to do this dumb challenge," you hummed, a little smug smile on your face. "stop listenin' to satoru, you'll get stupid like him." it made him laugh, you were so amused by him barely holding himself together...and he couldn't blame you, he wasn't the type to break so easily... "s-suguruuu, wait, you said just the tip, that's—suguuuu!" suguru let out the most scandalized gasp when he realized his entire cock was being hugged by your soft, hot walls. it was so cute, though, how you tried to help him, to let him know so he didn't lose. such a sweetheart, weren't you? but, suguru was too far gone. he had slowly begun inching himself inside of you, not even realizing it until it was too late. not being able to stop his hips from moving, thrusting in and out of you, creating a little ring of cream around the base of his cock as his dick dragged against those soft spots inside you that made you keen his name. "oh, princess, angel, you're so sweet, you know that? s-shit, listen to that pussy...she missed this? she missed the feeling of her sugu inside? hm? fuuuck, fuck it, 'm-'m gonna give you what you need, baby, d-don't worry," he says in a needy rasp, pressing his forehead against yours, giving you a delirious little grin. yeah, suguru knew he was going to lose today...he'd be damned if he didn't cum all over this sweet cunt. all because of some stupidly cute socks.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[xiuminuwu]

Hello World Set

A quick little set for funsies!

Hello World Tucked T-Shirt

BGC

EA Mesh Edit

60 Swatches

Only simlish writing!

Hello World Painted Jeans

BGC

EA Mesh Edit

12 Swatches

Download: Patreon (Free)

[pedrospatch]

baby, i’m yours

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You remind Joel that you’re his.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION however she does wear Joel’s t-shirt and he semi lifts her onto a counter? sorta but not really? UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (Joel is in his 50’s but reader’s specific age is not mentioned). established relationship, sort of. consumption of food (if you are allergic to peanuts, i so sorry). angst, Joel and Ellie’s strained relationship is lightly implied, Joel is insecure, it’s implied reader did some horrible things in her past, reassurance, brief smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, consider it a quickie idk. apologies if i missed anything.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this short lil thing has been sitting in my drafts forever. i finished it while i was in ireland and finally had the chance to sit down and do a quick edit and when i say it was quick, i flew through it so i could hop onto my next wip so please excuse any errors! here’s a spotify link to the song if anyone’s curious, it’s an oldie but a goodie although it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.

main masterlist l fic notifs

Joel rolls over in bed, his arm outstretched and seeking the warmth of your soft, naked body.

“Mmph,” a small, sleepy groan falls from his lips as his long, thick fingers feel around on your side of the bed—of his bed. Of course, you have your very own bedroom in the house you all had been placed in when you first arrived in Jackson. Your very own bed to sleep in is just down the hallway, but lately, you’ve been waking up beside him a lot more often than not, especially now that Ellie’s a bit older and she’s gone and made herself her own space out in the garage behind the house. Being under the same roof as Joel did those two more harm than it did good, and while you missed having her around, it was for the best.

“She’ll come around, Joel,” you’d assured him. “I know she will. She just needs a bit of time is all.”

“Hope you’re right, darlin’,” he had murmured sadly in response.

Still lost somewhere in between sleep and full consciousness, Joel continues feeling around for you, but all he finds are the wrinkled sheets, cold and abandoned. Confused, his eyes finally flutter open and with a painful protest from his sore, stiff back, he sits up, blinking furiously as he looks around the darkness of his bedroom. The door’s been left cracked open ever so slightly, and as his vision adjusts now that he’s fully awake, he notices the dim glow of the hallway light that’s peeking through into the room.

He turns and glances over at the old digital alarm clock perched on his nightstand, the obnoxious, bright red numbers practically screaming at him that it’s a quarter past midnight. With a small, tired grunt, Joel switches on the lamp beside the clock and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, goosebumps erupting across his flesh the instant that his bare feet meet the cold, hardwood floor. He stands and fumbles around for his clothes, which he’d tossed carelessly somewhere over his shoulder hours earlier when he’d been lost in the heat of the moment with you. He finds his faded, navy blue sweatpants strewn across a chair next to the door and pulls them on over his naked lower body before searching for his t-shirt. When he doesn’t immediately see it, he doesn’t bother, figuring that it’s just going to come back off when he climbs back into bed with you.

Padding out of his bedroom, he makes his way down the hallway, heading towards the staircase. As he draws closer, he hears it—the soft music that’s coming from downstairs.

Baby, I'm yours

and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

yours until the rivers all run dry

in other words, until I die

He’s led towards the kitchen and that’s where he finds you.

Joel wants to be annoyed. 

Fuck, he tries to be annoyed. But he can’t help the way that the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards when his eyes take in the sight before him.

You’re standing at the center island slowly swaying your hips from side to side along to the beat of the song that’s playing from the record player perched next to the instant coffee maker on the counter behind you. He’d nearly wrung your neck when he found out what all you had traded just to get your hands on it, but you loved that thing more than life itself it seemed, so he couldn’t stay mad for very long. You’re making yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the peanut butter you’d learned how to make yourself with the old food processor he found deep in one of the kitchen cabinets, and the strawberry preserves you had picked up from the market earlier that week. Clad in nothing but his t-shirt, you’re singing along quietly to the lyrics as you finish making your late night snack.

Baby, I’m yours

and I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines

yours until the poets run out of rhyme

in other words, until the end of time

Joel leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you carefully lick the remnants of peanut butter off of the knife you’re using before setting it down on the counter. You then pick up the two pieces of bread and slap them together—you’d also learned how to bake homemade bread using some old nineties cookbook you had found in the commune’s library. Your sourdough is the reason he had to go up a notch in his belt.

Sandwich in hand, you do a little spin, humming happily as you take your first bite.

Joel loudly clears his throat from the doorway.

Startled, you whirl around and freeze, your eyes wide.

“Enjoyin’ yourself there, darlin’?” He asks amusedly as he approaches you.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me, Joel!” You hiss at him. You then realize what time of night it is and a look of guilt crosses your features. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I honestly thought that I had the volume down low enough in here—”

Frowning, you turn around and reach towards the record player to turn the music off, but much to your surprise, Joel stops you. “No, s’okay. I woke up on my own,” he assures you. “I reached over for you and you were gone.” The admission slips before he can even think to stop it. He notices how taken aback you are by what he’d just said and quickly asks, “What’cha doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I was hungry,” you tell him, sheepishly holding up your food. You always have one hell of an appetite after Joel was through fucking you senseless. You take another bite and offer it to him. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

He accepts and takes a corner of the sandwich before handing it back to you. His fingers brush against yours and his face burns at the contact.

Fucking Christ. 

You’re standing there in nothing but his fucking t-shirt after he had, yet again, made you his in his own fucking bed, and that’s what gets him?

Truth be told, the only time he holds your hand is when he’s inside of you—his fingers lace with your own as he comforts you and praises you for being such a good girl for taking his cock the way you do.

For being so, so fucking good for him.

He’s thought about taking your hand in front of others. Particularly when he notices the way some of the men in town stare at you. Joel wants to make it known that you’re already spoken for. Only, you’re not spoken for, not really. 

You’re his, but you’re not really his. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take the leap and acknowledge the two of you are far more than just patrol partners, far more than just two people who fought like fucking hell to get some smart assed teenager—and the world’s only hope for a cure—across the country.

He feels undeserving of it. Of you and your heart.

Several seasons had come and gone since you’d both arrived in Jackson with Ellie in tow, and somehow, Joel still can’t fathom what you’re doing by his side. She’s out of the house now and there’s nothing tying you to him, so why are you still here?

He’s so much older. Closer and closer to being on his way out, while you still had your entire life left ahead of you. He’s worn down, hardened from the post outbreak world. And you, you hadn’t lost any of your softness, your sweetness. Not even after the things you’d been forced to do to survive because of him.

You could meet someone younger, someone closer to your own age. You could marry, even start a family. You could be with someone who could give you a good life, the life you deserve.

The life that he’s too fucking broken to give you.

“Joel?” Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. M’fine.” He gestures to the record player with a nod of his head. “Y’know, this song’s older than me. By a few years. Came out in the early sixties.”

Joel half expects you to make some wisecrack joke and tease him over his age like you have done in the past—especially when the kid would get you going. Instead, he watches you set what’s left of your sandwich down and brush the crumbs from your hands before holding one of them out to him.

Confused, he stares at it for a moment before his dark eyes meet yours. “What are you doin’?”

“Dance with me,” you say, smiling at him.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” When he realizes you’re being serious, he shakes his head. “Y’know I don’t—I can’t dance.”

Dropping your hand back down to your side, you turn around and flip the record, starting the song over again before whirling back around and taking Joel’s hands in yours.

“Just follow my lead,” you tell him as you place them on your waist. Your own hands settle themselves on his broad shoulders, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. “Don’t overthink it.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel grumbles underneath his breath, however he finds himself moving along with you without further protest. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer against him as the two of you slowly sway from side to side along to the beat of the music. He chuckles, “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

“And your point is?” You rest your head on his shoulder and exhale a soft, contended sigh.

Joel’s lips threaten to pull down once more.

Could it be that you’re actually content with him?

Head still on his shoulder, you sing along softly with Barbara Lewis. 

“I’m gonna stay right here by your side

do my best to keep you satisfied

nothing in this world can drive me away

‘cause every day you'll hear me say…”

It quickly becomes too much for him. Joel’s hands leave your waist. Taking your wrists, he tugs your arms from around his neck and gently pushes you away from him. “Why?” he finally asks the question that’s been hanging off the tip of his tongue for the better part of the last three years. “Why me?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Why me?” he repeats himself. “Why me when you can have anyone else—”

Your reply is prompt and you say it so simply.

“Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“You deserve better.”

You peer at him curiously. “I deserve better?”

“You do. Ain’t got no business being with someone like me. After all the terrible shit I’ve done—”

“I did the same exact shit, Joel. Sometimes I did even fucking worse.” Somehow, softness laces your tone. You have never been angry with him and you weren’t about to start now. “What makes my hands any cleaner than yours?”

Joel begins to sputter. “M’older than you. Much older. Should’a been a lot more careful. Should’a done more so you didn’t have to do those things.”

His hands still curled around your wrists, you reach up and gingerly cradle the sides of his face. He winces, but then quickly melts into your touch, the very same touch that could heal his wounds, if only he would allow it.

“I made my own choices,” you remind him, quietly. Neither of you realize the music has stopped. “Quit acting like blood doesn’t stain my hands too because it does.”

His lips press into a tight line. “Blood stains your hands ‘cause of me. S’my fault. I was responsible for you. I was s’pposed to take care of you. I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”

You sigh.

“When are you going to stop blaming yourself, Joel?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks as it clenches. He averts his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn’t answer.

You stroke the scruff of his beard lightly with your thumbs. “When are you going to stop thinking you’re not good enough for me? What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that you are all I could ever need and want?”

“You’re just wastin’ your fuckin’ life on me, darlin’. S’the truth and you fuckin’ know it as well as I do.”

Pulling your wrists out of his hands, you pivot on your heel and suck in a sharp breath, stubbornly blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. You’re frustrated.

It cuts you to your very core to know the man you’ve grown to love more than anything and anyone else on what’s left of this fucking planet can’t see that he’s enough. He’s more than enough.

Joel bites back his own frustrated sigh. He knows he can’t rely on you to tell him, rely on the reassurance—he needs to do his part and believe it. If he keeps trying to push you away, he just may very well succeed one day. He will lose you.

After a moment, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, his lips lightly brushing your neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, his own voice thickening as a lump forms in the back of his throat. He’s quick to swallow it down. “Jus’ have a hard time believin’ you’re mine. S’almost like my mind is lookin’ to prove me wrong.”

“But I am yours, Joel. I’m yours, I’m fucking yours.”

It’s more than just reassurance. It’s an oath, one you’ll honor for the rest of your life.

He holds you tighter. “Yeah?” He nips at the delicate spot right below your ear, his teeth scraping along tender flesh. “S’that right, baby? You’re all mine?”

“All yours,” you confirm breathlessly as his hands slowly begin trailing down the length of your sides, his fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt.

Joel swiftly turns you around in his arms and slips his hand between your thighs. The next thing you know, he has you backed up against the counter and he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his hard, thick cock. With one of your legs hooked around his waist, he buries himself into the warmth of your cunt and begins to deliver smooth, languid strokes.

“Say it again, baby,” he rasps into your neck. He coaxes your other leg up and around his waist and his large hands curl securely underneath your thighs as he bucks up into you. He’d deal with the back pain later. He pants, “Need—need to hear you say it, my sweet girl.”

You hold onto the countertop behind you as he fucks you, your fingernails digging into the laminated wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” you moan into his shoulder. “I’m all yours, Joel. Oh fuck—”

You say it over and over again and he believes it.

He finally fucking believes it.

Sweet nothings fall from his lips with each thrust.

“S’lucky you’re all fuckin’ mine.”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Gonna keep you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

When he spills into you, there’s no regret on his part nor yours. You’d always wanted to feel him come inside of you—secretly, so did he. Joel’s deep, guttural groans bounce off of the kitchen walls as your pussy fills with him, with all of him, taking as much as it can before he begins leaking out of you and down the insides of your thighs.

“Jesus,” he exhales. He dips his head for a kiss. “You’re all messy now, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “How’s about we go upstairs and get back into bed so I can clean you up?”

Giggling, you mimic him and remind him of what he’d said earlier. “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

Joel grins. “And your point is?”

You laugh again as he leads you out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom—to yours and his bedroom.

[elvirable]

Instincts

[ Astarion x f!Reader/Tav ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 3.7k | status: complete themes/tags: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light angst at the end, you know the sex scene after the tiefling party?, yeah so this is it, with astarions pov, already catching feelings smh, smut is halfway through, just skip to after all early dialogue

----------------------------------------------------

Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his simple plan crumbling apart.

In other words: Astarion has been struggling to balance century-long instincts with newfound feelings, an undeniable connection. He carries out his simple little plan as intended, but meets complications he didn't quite expect. ----------- A/N: so i hung up my cod medals of honor to write this.. i've been playing for a month now. originally posted without proofreading, but its now edited for grammar and some terms -----

It was hard not to have fun around you.

Something of a child-like giddiness would buzz through his nerves whenever you sauntered over, his marbled red eyes wouldn't dare to miss a beat of the vision you were. Swaying hips and that deceivingly coy face. Of course, you were strikingly beautiful – a wickedly delectable sight – but that wasn’t the only source of his carnal anticipation.

It was just you, the enigmatic little thing you were. 

Admittedly, Astarion believed he had read you like an open book the moment he laid eyes on you. It was an instinct of his: gathering a cerebral repository of notable ticks and body language, facial twitches, and octave changes in those around him. Watchful, constant observations.

He had chalked you up to a sort of stoic character at first. Graceful, to a degree, in your manner of subtly balancing the world around you. A stable composure, quick and quiet without brash or idle chatter.. unlike that Gale. You were a less flagrantly repulsive hero-type crafted in his mind – but he had still expected you to be oh-so predictable with a shallow drive for self-emaciating ‘justice’. Whereas the others wore their baggage like a garment, you held your cards close to your chest – like a chameleon suddenly thrust into the spotlight.

Yet the sun rose and fell two or three times around the wilderness of Elturel, when he found himself pleasantly contradicted. He normally didn’t dedicate much attention towards someone he believed he so easily pegged, but his interest began to pique. Just enough to leave him sitting with an edge and a consuming desire to peer in closer. 

Maybe it was the way your mouth twitched into a quiet smile during his verbal antics on the road or the firm passiveness you held from the blighted village to the drama of Emerald Grove; an intoxicatingly confusing blend of traits you harbored. The closer he watched you, the less blurred you became. You didn’t fear being authentic and enforcing boundaries to those who attempted to use you – but you weren’t cruel; you met the world around you just as it was, without discrimination. No unnecessary harm, no free handouts either. 

Or perhaps it was your sarcastic remarks that stirred what little glee he had in him; an especially delicious and refreshing insight into your humor. While he could care to give a critical note or two on your lack of blatant cruelty, Astarion respected your compelling demeanor; he witnessed how all these companions turned their eyes so frequently to you with decision.

But what he did know for sure was the eye contact.

Gods, the first time your heads swiveled mid-strife and your gazes locked with a rich crackle – the memory alone was enough to stupefy him! Something strange stirred, something that didn’t sit comfortably. He didn’t know  what to make of it.

With all this said, that same sensation boiled inside his stomach as he mulled over his every interaction with you. He recalled that moment of midnight – when all was still and you had caught him prepared to taste your throat. Your wary stare pierced through him, washing away briefly the desperate pangs of blood-thirst and left him feeling.. nervous. 

Ugh, how he despised the feeling. 

He was sickened when all those ledgers of observations caved in on himself, caught in his pale throat. He had taken such an overwhelming liking to you – to the extent, he had realized, that he was drawn to your guidance, your approval; a repulsive frustration at the time enough to coil through his cold veins. Without much to say, however, he was adamantly relieved when you conceded and soon regularly allowed him to drink from your slender neck. 

His trail of thoughts glossed over your stifled grunts onto the following morning: when you came to his defense as everyone felt the need to chime in with their unfettered prejudices. And how his ease, his excitement around you became persistently potent – a fresh energy that filled him as you spurred on his teasings and whims. Astarion noticed your subtle release of your ever-strong walls, just enough so he could relish in your humor and affable side.

There was always a hesitation at doting on the sensation that rose inside him at these thoughts of you. He surmised he was merely back in the practice; where he spun honeyed words and charmingly guile eye contact, to wrap his target around his finger. Any little edge of control he could grasp onto, the familiar taste of influence he used to know so well. These habits of two hundred years were kicking in. He’d play the part and – sooner or later – this eagerness to please would be reversed onto you.

Whether it was his own willful denial or the culmination of fate’s ever-spinning thread, the first crumble began the night of the tiefling party.

.

Cool and clear was the star-freckled night. Everything was too merry for him: the wide-toothed grins of the tieflings, sharp strums of the lute, the chatter. Even the wine was downright awful, pungent and tart like vinegar. 

Astarion would’ve normally indulged in his bitter mood, but it was the sight of your drunken smile that diffused his prior desire to complain.

How interesting, he thought as his eyes lapped up your squinted grin and eased laughter. It was helplessly infectious to see you so earnest, casually prattling on in conversation throughout the camp. 

Red eyes followed while you made your rounds, encouraging the tiefling’s dancing lights spell and conversing with the bard. Astarion even raised a brow at the playful expression that washed over your face as you spoke to the hulking druid by the name of Halsin.  When you strolled over to Shadowheart and he caught that carefully provocative glint in the raven-haired cleric’s eyes – a chord of jealousy grew taut inside his chest.

He had half the mind to feel insulted that you hadn’t wandered in his direction yet, but that was quickly dispersed when he noticed you dismiss yourself and head towards a wooden crate near the riverfront. 

Almost like a shadow, Astarion swept in your direction. Whether it was to merely take in your smile up close or to put his plan in motion, he settled on the latter. You were rifling through the crate that held what could barely pass as wine, muttering a quiet curse about the little tiefling probably pocketing a bottle or two.

“Here’s my little treat with her cheeks all flushed,” the words dripped from his mouth with a sweet cadence. “You will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?”

You swiveled at the sound of his voice, raised brow accompanying your hazy smile. The influence of wine lowered your usual wariness, and he caught the realization flutter across your face; there was no constitution in attempting to act reserved, especially with the rapport you two had grown. Amusement was written all over your face, hardly concealed – you had decided to play along.

“A little treat? You can do better than that.” 

“Oh, I certainly can. It would be my pleasure.”

He leaned closer, half-lidded eyes darkening and breath heavy with a mischievous delight. You watched him expectantly, reveling in what would pour from his lips.

“How about this one,” he loosened his posture, as if you both were stowed away from the entire world instead of dawdling along the outskirts of the shoddy camp. “All these accolades from the tieflings are nothing compared to the sound of my name, cried from your lips.”

Astarion watched the smile further spread across your soft lips, the wickedly sweet crinkle in your eyes while you crossed your arms. An exhilaration rose underneath his suave demeanor, even the bemused snicker invigorating.

“Is that the best you can do?” came your quick quip.

“Hmm, let me give it another go,” his voice was thick with arousal, a hungry glint in his eyes. “Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation – it’s as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.” 

His words clung to the air for a moment. The deliberate onslaught of poetic pleasantries laced with such ardent lust, the hum of the wine – Astarion studied your face swirling in thought. Heat had built up from the lower half of your body up to your cheeks, a quiet neediness wavering in your stance and threatened to boil to the surface of your skin.

Gods, you were thinking, it had been the longest time and you’ve been touch-starved.. more so under the urgency of all the trouble you had been thrust into. You never trusted a pretty boy, but you'd be damned if his flowered prose didn't stir something in you; you had never been the subject of such pursuits, real or not. Desire rushed through you, coiling in your stomach.

There was a beckoning in his eyes as they clutched onto yours, imporing you to draw closer, and his boyish features were even more alluring when caressed by the moon’s glow. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to trust those flowery words. They were tinted with an air of rehearse.

“Did these really work on Cazador’s targets?”

“Well, they’re working on you, aren’t they?”

A mild bashfulness buzzed through the warmth on your cheeks, as you couldn’t really deny it. 

“How about if I said these little words… everyone’s favorite,” Astarion continued, pausing for effect.

“I love you.”

Sly amusement colored his face. He had succeeded in riling up the intrinsic urge, no matter how much you tried to conceal it. How adorable you were when your gaze fluttered briefly.

“Having fun, are you?” you observed, smile holding on your lips.

As he had mused earlier, he was. It was hard not to whenever around you.  

.

Festivities settled down, the entire camp fast asleep once the wine crate had emptied and bellies were full. Only the chittering of crickets could be heard amongst the trees.

The forest, usually dressed in potent darkness, stilled beneath the moonlight. A serene, subtle beauty of the night – one Astarion was very accustomed to knowing, to living . He had done this so many times it had become second nature – the salacious rendezvous, the secrecy and fleeting thrill of them all. 

He had contemplated before, the image of you melting in the throes of pleasure. He wondered whether you preferred his hands gentle or rough, what sounds would dribble from your lips – if they sounded as sweet as you tasted. 

Though nothing could prepare him for the reality, which far surpassed fantasy; the pretty little thing you were, bare figure caressed by the lowlight, slowly making your way towards him.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

You offered him a coy smile, cheeks still warm and rosy. An ache rushed between your legs at the sight of him sauntering forward, his well-formed broad physique. Lean, yet muscular – and the soft details of his appearance; the crease of laughter lines, the curl of his lashes. Just the anticipation of it all served enough to make you wet.

“Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you,” he leaned closer, desire coating every syllable.

“You don’t have me yet,” you matched the pulse of his words, emanating a playfulness to goad him on further.

Greedy lips suddenly met yours, and you were pressed against the tree trunk. His palms gripped the back of your thighs, swift dexterity almost catching you off guard. You instantly melted, like a puddle, in his grasp; your soft lips just as eager, skin aching and impatient for his touch. You never realized how sensitive you were, how truly touch-starved until you fought the gasp that escaped your throat.

Astarion didn’t waste a beat, carefully laying you onto the grass below while he drawled slow kisses along the curve of your neck. Fervent yearning permeated from your skin; you wanted more, and he was prepared to give you everything .

He drank in the sight of your arousal, eager to please you yet potently roused from the position he was in: you were such a delectably pretty thing sprawled beneath his weight, completely bare and vulnerable. Wide eyes bashfully beckoning him to just taste you.

“Part those precious legs for me, beautiful.” He directed, his voice less of a growl this time – instead more sweet. Soft. 

You could feel your face heat up further at his words, following his command without hesitation. Tender hands trailed along the soft skin of your thigh, his intense eyes briefly leaving yours to watch his fingers lingered over your folds – you were glistening with slick , fevered arousal.

“Oh my, you’re already so wet for me.”

His voice was almost a whisper now, as a keen excitement rushed through his veins. A twitch pressed against his briefs, his cock already hard and eager especially when his eyes darted towards your rosy. So willing, ready to indulge his every whim. For a moment, he settled in your vulnerability – a sight he didn't expect to see. You were always full of such delicious surprises.

He shook the thought from his mind, allowing a sly smile to return to his lips.

“Who knew you were so needy?”

Your cheeks flushed, timid lips scrambling to form a defensive retort before he slipped two fingers inside. Only a quiet gasp left your mouth as your soaking warmth struggled to adjust, tightening around his digits. You were barely able to comprehend the words he said, instinctively bucking your hips.

“ Astar ..” your breath hitched before you could even finish, when his fingers began a slow pace. Teasingly slow, you would beckon, but there was nothing you could even fathom whispering anymore. Your walls began to clench, eager to receive his unwavering attention.

Hums of pleasure pulsed through your every nerve, rapidly as he fastened the curling pace of his fingers. Every hitched and quiet whimper encouraged him, his palm soaked with your slick. He relished the sight of your round breasts rising and falling feverishly, your heat clenched around him – his cock further hardened, precum no doubt pooling on the fabric of his briefs. 

All you could manage was to focus on the pleasure mounting between your legs, thighs now quivering with anticipation. His thumb slid up to your swollen clit, never breaking pace, to draw teasingly slow circles. He adjusted his weight to lean closer to your face, the sudden attention causing an overwhelming shyness to press your eyes shut. Your thighs trembled more now while his fingers beckoned and lured your pleasure to spur closer and closer.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice the gentlest you’ve ever heard. 

He couldn’t place the sensation – of feeling entranced in a sense, when whimpers of pleasure fumbled from your beautiful lips. Astarion almost felt lost, nearly mesmerized, when you kept those pretty eyes trained on his. He could feel his eyes soften at your vulnerable stare, and all at once everything inside him craved to slide into your warmth. To feel you melt into him, to hit every right spot to make you sing, for every sweet prayer cascading from your lips to be for him.

“Mmf..” You were left in a sudden foggy haze, a mix of pleasure and confusion when he abruptly withdrew his fingers. You couldn’t fathom any words to speak, only furrowed your brows in a hazed and disorientated manner.

“I’m sorry, love.” His breathless laugh seemed dazed before the low, heaviness returned to his tone, “You were practically just begging with those lovely eyes of yours.”

He leaned downwards to plant soft, reassuringly delicate pecks across the nape of your neck; each a mantra to affection, leaving a buzz in their wake. Carefully he peeled down his briefs with a wasted moment to rub his eager cock against your slick warmth.

Your moans sounded even sweeter closer to his ear, and a delighted sigh pressed from his lips onto your skin. His throbbing cock was met with some resistance as the length and girth was suffocated by your tightening walls, warm spasms at the sensation being filled. 

A guttural, low moan hummed from his throat. Fuck, you were so perfectly tight.

His cock pulsed at the sudden attention, aching with pleasure and a warm buzz radiating through his skin. He paused for a moment, needing to relish every second it felt to be now pressed so deep inside you. The softness of your skin, delicate cues of pleasure washing over your face, how your warm walls enveloped his cock.

You moaned as he pushed more of his length inside your needy warmth, tears beginning to well up in the corner of your eyes. Pleasure and slight pain blurred, the tip of his cock almost pressed against your soft cervix and a rouse of heat traveling up your spine. 

His hands gripped the globes of your ass to adjust his leverage, slowly but deliberately digging his hips against yours with each thrust. His body was achingly ready, alive with frantic urge. He was incapable of any pretty words to whisper, tangled groans replacing his usual velvet tongue.

As he pounded quicker into your warmth, your pulsating soft walls sucked his cock tighter and deeper with each buckle. He nestled his head into the nape of your neck. Sweat formed on his pale forehead as he wrestled with his restraint, his cock stroking in and out, hitting pleasure points you never knew existed and relishing in your shameless cries – desperate for him.

Soft, warm pleasure unraveled across you in hot waves. If you had the mind, you could only hope that no one could hear you two – the sounds and wet smacks of his skin colliding against yours – but all you could do was turn your pleasured cries and whimpers into soundless gasps.

Your lips parted, hips bucking before your back arched from the ground. Every fiber of your body attempted to get closer to him, and his to you. Of some act of grace, your hand caressed his face, lifting him to face yours.

Oh, how he wanted to melt right there. 

Eager eyes met each other, brows furrowing together into a soft, tender stare. Astarion’s hips began to buck erratically for a moment as he struggled to regain his resolve. Once steadied, he continued to bury deeper into you in every perfect way. You were clenched so tightly, so divinely around him while his name trickled as a whisper from your lips. 

“You – fuck .. “ you couldn’t be bothered to form a proper sentence, every whim of comprehension overwhelmed by new heights of white pleasure. You were lulled into a stupor, and his grip tightened at your garbled pleas.

“Thaaat’s it,” Astarion practically begged, voice ragged, his eyes never leaving your beautiful face as it twisted with sweet expressions. An eagerness gnawed inside him, to push you to the edge of your pleasures. You were so perfect while you cried his name, taking all of him so well. 

“Come for me, sweet girl –” Hushed and delicate was his tone, only causing you to surrender any inhibition.

Heat wound tightly in your abdomen, lashes wet with the tears trailing down your warm face. Every nerve was wound so tight, finally snapping into a rush of white hot pleasure that left your skin flushed and tingling. You tried to whine out his name, but it spilled out into broken gasps as you reached your fingers to grip his silver curls. 

His hips began to stagger, riding out your pleasure until he could no longer postpone the succumb to pleasure. They lost their rhythm, and a low moan rumbled from his throat as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of your tightening walls, pressing into you.

You could feel his cock throbbing in you, as your nerves are slow to fizzle from the glowing buzz, and it swelled. Your slick walls were overstimulated nearly by his desperate, choppy thrusts before a cry escapes his lips – his cum flooded into you, thick and hot. He felt waves of warmth, so real and alive. So helplessly right.

The air was silent, as you both collected your breaths in hurried gasps. Astarion peeled his weight off of you only to roll onto his back, by your side. Your body felt light and completely slack, almost boneless as you sunk into the earth underneath you. Aftershocks of pleasure still rippled throughout your nerves. 

Both of you laid sweaty, flushed, exhausted, lacking the energy to care. You broke the silence with a wobble in your voice.

“Fuck, you came inside me..” you stated the obvious, reeling from pulsing nerves and vision hazy. 

“I’m sure the druids have something that’ll take care of that..” Astarion said breathlessly, extending an arm to wipe the sweat glistening off his forehead. 

He waited for a quiet laugh or a retort, but neither came.

Turning his head, he was met with the vision of your exhausted figure fast asleep. Slowly your chest rose and fell, face at ease – a vulnerability he had only seen when you were in deep sleep, if you weren't tossing and turning.

The quiet sat with him while he attempted to gather his thoughts, his experience. He had seen an entirely different side of you – exposed delicate. Part of his conscience pooled with guilt. 

He had a plan. A nice simple plan. It wasn’t foreign to casually bed strangers, seducing and manipulating them into following his every whim. Hells, this had been routine for two hundred years . The count was lost on how many nights he spent using people like ragdolls, only to be lured back into the hands of Cazador.

Astarion returned his gaze to the stars glistening above, attempting his best at reducing it to the odd circumstances or perhaps he was simply out of practice. 

Regardless – even if it was more than a fluke – he had already fucked things up. The thought felt tainted now, uneasy and riddled with remorse. 

Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his plan crumbling apart.

[kaciidubs]

Unexpected Alpha | Spooktober 2023

@sweetracha asked: Chan has been hiding his werewolf side from reader for awhile now but being caught up with work he forgot to check the moon cycles. Cue reader finding out about his other side. Now Channie has always been the confident dom in the relationship so you thought no different when he turned wolf. You were so...so...so wrong

❣ Summary: When an overworked Chris forgets about his rut, you're quick to help him through it. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 4.89k ❣ Warnings: Hybrid! AU, Werewolf! Chris, he has a big dick, smut, comfort, slight angst, praise, begging, riding, creampies, Dom/Sub dynamics, slight Switch! Chris, implied multiple rounds ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, Alpha [once], and Darling, Reader is referred to as Baby, Princess, Good Girl, and Love, lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ Spooktober 2023

Chris was always on top of everything, it was one of the things he prided himself on when it came to his life; he kept track of schedules and deadlines, he made sure everyone was clear on instructions and plans, and he managed healthy routines - outside of his sleep schedule. 

He made sure everything was perfect and went according to the plan carefully crafted in his head, and not just for his sake - but for yours.

It had been a while since the world was introduced to nearly half of its population being some sort of shifter - hell, the industry was wonderfully saturated with shifters and shifter supporters itself - but things were different when it came to you.

You knew he was a shifter, he’d let you know that since the beginning - he just didn’t let you know what type of shifter he was; and, no, it wasn’t because he wanted to lie to you, far from it.

He was trying to protect you.

It was always speculation on what type of shifter he was amongst the fans, majority of them settling on a dog type of some sort - some even going so far as picking breeds - and they weren’t wrong in a sense, but they definitely weren’t in the right vein.

He was a wolf shifter; a werewolf for the sake of lesser words - an alpha to be exact, and though they weren’t the rarest of shifters, they weren’t regarded in the highest of honors when it came to the general media and in the same breath they were often fetishized to fit a specific stereotype.

Chris swore he would tell you when the time was right - he knew you were one of the biggest supporters when it came to all shifters - but his fear of your reaction always held him back; his fear of losing you over something he’d seen so many people before him get ridiculed for making the confession die on his tongue.

So, fate took matters in their own hands.

He knew something was wrong when he woke up with a start, an all too familiar heat blanketing his barely clothed body and coating him in a thin sheen of sweat, his senses dialed to ten as he took in the way the fan in the corner spread your scent around the bedroom; cinnamon and pound cake with an undercut of strawberries.

A low rumble vibrated through his chest, and he was close to chalking it up to a random heat spike until a flash of pain struck through his abdomen, a sharp hiss passing through clenched teeth as he tried his best not to wake you.

No… This wasn't- Could it?

Scooting his body away from the loose spooning position you both were in, he rolled onto his back and stretched his arm out in search of his phone on the nightstand. Feeling the sleek device against his fingers, he grabbed it and wasted no time in unlocking it with his fingerprint; squinting against the brightness in search for his calendar.

His worst fear was confirmed at the sight of a little red bubble highlighting the current day, the single letter ‘R’ reminding him of the one thing that managed to slip his mind among all the hustle and bustle of his life.

His rut was starting.

“Fuck… Fuck!” He whispered, eyes flicking to the time before turning off his phone and returning it back to its charging block.

He always had a plan when it came to his rut; he would stay at the dorm under the guise of saving time on transportation for early schedules, lock himself in his room, and do everything in his power to quell the almost insatiable urge to claim and breed - more specifically, claim and breed you.

However, his schedules lately have been drowning him to no end in work, recordings, practices, and preparing for their next comeback - always ending the day with him slugging his way through a shower and ultimately passing out in bed next to your already sleeping form.

There was no way he could justify a 1:43 AM trip to the dorms, if he had to stay at the dorms he’d be there straight from the JYP building, and if there were an emergency then he’d get a call that would wake both you and him.

Should he just risk it? Lie to you yet again and leave you in your shared bed alone?

His stomach turned at the thought, a displeased growl emanating from his throat.

“Channie?”

He could feel his heart - and dick - jump at the sound of your sleep laced voice, sharp eyes watching in the dark as you shuffled around to face him; even with a puffy face and barely open eyes, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

“‘S everything okay? The kids alright?”

His breath caught, mind running too wild for his own good - kids, you were so caring, so selfless, nurturing, he could give you his kids, he could give you his pups.

“Chris?” You blinked at him, confusion threading through your voice as you reached your hand out to touch him, “Are you-”

His hand shot out to grab you by the wrist, grip tightening in the smallest of ways as he kept you from coming any closer.

“Don’t.” He gritted, willing himself to ignore the feeling of your pulse beneath his fingertips - a slight jump, a hint of worry, a spike of fear spicing your scent. “I- I’m sorry, baby, but I - I need to leave.”

Lips drawn into a frown, your eyebrows creased softly, “You need to- why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, love-”

“Then why do you have to leave? Is it one of the boys?”

“No, they’re fine-”

“So what is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

The broken sound in your voice was making his head spin, every instinct within him urging him to comfort you, to make you feel better - he could make you feel better, you could make him feel better.

“Christopher,” you started, sitting up enough to prop yourself up with your left hand, gazing down at him with soft eyes, “tell me what’s going on, baby, please, let me help you.”

Caring, understanding, open and willing, you’d shown him time and time again that you weren’t scared of them, you weren’t scared of him - so why did he keep telling himself to push you away? 

Why did he never realize that hiding from you was doing the exact opposite to what he was trying to do?

Blinking hard, he let go of your wrist in favor of pressing his hand to his face, the faint hint of strawberries simultaneously calming him and sending him into a mental spiral.

“I… I’m- It’s my rut, and I-” Dragging his hand across his face, he let it fall to the small space between the both of you, staring defeatedly at the ceiling above, “I don’t want to put that pressure onto you, I don’t trust myself to be around you.”

There was a beat of silence, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you, scared of what expression you could have been holding - that is, until he felt the bed shift and a familiar weight settle itself around his hips, just barely hovering above his lap.

His eyes snapped to yours, hands instinctively finding their home on your hips, hidden underneath the familiar cotton of his t-shirt. “Baby-”

“Chris,” your voice was firm, almost challenging as your hands slid to cover his, “I don’t want you to keep hiding yourself from me.” Feeling his body tense, you nodded softly, “Yeah - I figured out why you always went to the dorms for days on end, and I thought you’d come to me when you were ready but you didn’t.”

He could feel the disappointment radiating off of you, tinging the sweet aroma he knew and loved - he had royally fucked up.

“Princess, I’m sorry - I’m so, so sorry, I really didn’t mean to-”

“I know, baby, you meant well and I love you for that - you’re so selfless it makes me want to punch you sometimes.” A light laugh rolled past your lips and you felt him slightly deflate underneath you, relaxing just a bit, “So, to make up for it, you’re going to let me be selfish and let me help you from now on.”

He went to open his mouth in retaliation but you beat him to the punch, lowering yourself onto his lap fully, nestling his clothed cock against your equally clothed cunt, the warmth barely hidden behind the cotton short circuiting his brain.

“You will let me help you, because you and I both know this pussy is leagues better than whatever you’d be using at the dorm.”

“M-My hand,” he gritted, chest heaving with deep breaths as he tried to ignore the pulsing coming from you or him or both.

“Just your hand?” You mused, tilting your head slightly.

“That’s all I’m admitting right now.” Licking his lips, he paused for a second, “Well, not all - there’s one other thing…” Watching as you nodded for him to continue, he let out a slow breath, “I’m not a dog.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “I… I never called you a d-”

“I’m a wolf.”

“Oh.”

Okay, that throb definitely came from you.

“An alpha.”

“Oh.”

The spike in your scent nearly made him lightheaded, the headiness of your arousal further thickening the already addicting smell, “A-And I promise I’ll be gentle, but if it’s too much-”

“Safeword.” You finished for him, the conversation mirroring one you’ve both had before, “I promise I’ll let you know - now, can I help you?”

Chris wasn’t sure how he was able to contain himself as long as he was with you on top of him, looking down at him with so much warmth, understanding, acceptance - that would’ve been enough to get him through the next few days alone.

Well, in theory, at least.

Nodding to your question, he watched as your lips pulled into a soft smile before your hands moved to tug at your shirt, “Help me take this off?”

He didn’t need to be told twice as his hands moved down to the hem that was pooled around your hips, fingers hooking underneath and dragging along your sides as he slowly slid the fabric up your torso,

Meeting him halfway, you pulled the shirt off the rest of the way, throwing it to some dark reach of the bedroom to be found at a later time, hopefully.

A slow hiss escaped him, large hands running across your sides and up your stomach, blazing a trail to cup your breasts in his palms. “Fuck me…”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” you teased, arching into the warmth of his hands, “I thought you’d be absolutely ravaging me by now, mister wolf.”

He scoffed out a laugh, peering up at you with inquisitive eyes, “You want me to?”

“Helping you includes letting you use me however you need, so; please, Chris, use me.”

His body shivered underneath you, and before you knew it your nipples were subject to the slightly cold air of the room yet again - budding quickly in the change of temperature as his hands flew to your panties.

“Up.” He murmured, low tone bordering on a growl.

Heeding his command, you pushed yourself up onto your knees, just for a harsh tearing sound to reach your ears and bring your slightly dazed attention to your panties - or rather, the remains of your panties. He quickly tore a line down the other side before tugging it from underneath you, the sorry excuse for underwear nothing more than an ‘H’ shaped cloth before being flung into the darkness.

“Babe!”

“I’ll buy you more, whatever you want, whenever you want,” he huffed nonchalantly, bringing his right hand to your face, tapping his finger against your pouted bottom lip, “now, open.”

Choosing to save your faux sadness for another time, you parted your lips and brought two of his fingers into your mouth, tongue immediately swirling around the digits as you sucked lightly.

His eyes fluttered, dick painfully and pitifully straining against his boxer briefs, eagerly recalling the way that same tongue felt against his length - tomorrow, for sure.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth with a soft pop, he brought his hand back down between your parted legs, ghosting against your outer lips, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

You nodded reassuringly, “Promise.”

With your confirmation, he dipped his fingers between your lips, collecting your arousal on his spit-slicked digits before pressing them against your slit, slowly sinking them in all the way to his knuckles.

A low moan fell from your lips as his fingers stretched you open, head lolling back with bated breaths while your thighs slightly shook from holding yourself up, “C-Can’t you go faster? We’ve had sex before, baby, I know what you feel like.”

“Ruts are… It’s different than how things normally are,” he murmured, setting a thorough pace of curling his fingers with fluid motions of his wrist, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Patience was never your friend, especially when it came to having your boyfriend in the best way imaginable, and you huffed in disdain. “You won’t- ah, hurt me, I’m wet enough, you can feel it, you know I am!”

He growled your name through gritted teeth, noting the way your walls clenched around  his fingers in response, “I know you’re excited, but I know how this works - I’m not fucking you until I know you’re ready.”

He was right, you knew he was, but you were desperate - you needed this as much as he did and maybe he was aware of that, too. Maybe he knew how much you missed him, wholly and truly as you watched him slowly get taken over by work and worry.

Sparing him the rest of your needy insistence, you adjusted yourself to lean over him, resting your bare chest against his while laying your cheek against his pillow; inadvertently opening yourself up more for his fingers to work through.

“Good girl,” Chris cooed, his free hand cupping the outside of your thigh, “it’ll be quick, I swear.”

If there was one thing to know about Chris, it was that he kept his promises, and somewhere between the hums of praise against your ear and the well timed strokes of his fingers, you found yourself three fingers deep and on the cusp of an orgasm.

“Channie, please,” you panted against his pillowcase, head spinning and ears picking up on the wet sound of his fingers dutifully working you toward your high, “wanna- fuck- wanna come on your dick, please? Please, baby, can I?”

“Love, I…” The attempt of formulating an excuse died on his tongue - you were ready, he could feel it in more ways than one, the evidence dripping down the palm of his hand.

Pushing yourself to your forearms, you hovered over his body with all the strength you could muster, gazing down at him with lust fogged eyes. “I-I told you, if it was too much I’d let you know, remember? Chris, please,” dipping your head down, your lips pressed against his plump pair in what you could only express as hopeless desperation, “this is too much, I want you in me, now.”

A shaky breath fell from his lips as his fingers stilled, willing himself to focus on the pressure of your forehead against his while your words did everything in their power to rouse his instincts.

You were ready, you wanted him - he needed you.

The next thing you registered was the long, slow drag of his fingers out of your pussy, the way your walls clenched around nothing almost enough to make you beg for him to go back to fingering you; that is, if it weren’t for the feeling of his forearms brushing against the inside of your thighs.

It was a short struggle of working his boxer briefs down his thighs with you still on top of him, but he persevered and soon they were shuffled down his legs and kicked off the side of the bed, leaving you both fully naked under the cool light of the moon streaming through the window.

You wasted no time in sitting up fully yet again, reaching behind you to take his dick in your hand and running the smooth tip along your dripping folds.

“Baby, hold- oh, fuck-” Chris’ hands flew to your hips as you began sinking down on him, his mind going blank at the feeling of your all-too-tight walls hugging every inch of his girth.

“S-So big,” you gasped, eyebrows pinching as you sunk further, “it feels- jesus christ, it feels bigger - oh my god-”

“I told you, everything’s different when I’m in rut - everything.” Hissing out a short breath, he blinked away the haze and watched your face, “Don’t rush yourself, take it slow - and if it hurts-”

“-safeword, I know, baby, just-” Sucking in a breath, you steeled your nerves before releasing it in a slow exhale, relaxing your muscles as best as you could, “I know you trust me, but I need you to trust yourself, okay?”

Blinking up at you, he let your words settle in his head - he trusted you beyond a shadow of a doubt, no questions asked, but now he needed to show himself that same level of love.

So, he did; relaxing against the bed to witness you gently fuck yourself with the half of his length currently inside of you, your hands played against his chest for further support.

With each inch slid out came a new inch that slid in, airy moans floating past your lips as you felt your walls flutter to accompany the new stretch until you were sat in his lap and twitching at the promise of your first orgasm.

“Good girl, look at you - fuck, you’re taking me so well.”

This was better than anything he could’ve dreamt of; the way your nails dug into his chest, your head bowed as you tried composing yourself as best you could, all while your pussy hugged him in a way that made his hormonal mind spin.

“B-Big.” You gasped out, involuntarily clenching your walls with a sharp inhale, “So big, Channie.”

Truly you meant to say more, you wanted to talk about how perfect he was and how good he felt, but your brain was set on how immensely full you were and how the stretch was unlike anything you’ve ever felt despite how big he normally was to begin with.

“I told you,” he taunted in a sing-song voice, shifting his hips upwards and earning a high pitched mewl from you in return, “but you wanted to prove yourself, wanted to help your wolf, didn’t you?”

“Y-Yes,” nodding mindlessly, you locked your eyes with his own, watery and blown out with lust, “wanna help you - want you to use me, baby.”

His breath caught, hands flexing against the flesh of your thighs as he fought back the urge to make do on your words - not yet.

“Use me first, love.” Sliding his hands up to your hips, Chris held you tight, “Come for me, then I’ll show you how thankful I am for you, yeah?”

You nodded once more before shifting your pressure onto your calves and his chest, rising halfway off of his cock to sink back in a slow rhythm - though, even that simple motion had a breathless whimper falling from your lips. After another test bounce, you picked up the pace and rode him with as much vigor as you could muster; his grip on you guiding and assisting your motions in the process.

Ragged pants and moans filled the room, though most of the sounds came from you as you fought against the fiery licks of your orgasm at your heels, wanting to ride him as close to completion as you possibly could - not that you fared any better with him any other time.

“I can feel you clenching, baby,” he grunted, bucking his hips up at your next fall, “gonna come for me? Are you gonna come for me, princess?”

“Mhm- ‘M close,” your body felt like it was on fire, thighs burning with exertion through each rise and fall that brought you closer and closer to that sweet release. “Please, please, Chris, I’m so close.”

On instinct, he brought his right hand up from its place on your hip and pressed his thumb to your bottom lip, watching as you graciously parted your lips to lick at the pad before he brought it back down to the apex of your thighs; spreading your lower lips to press his slick thumb against your clit.

It only took a few well timed flicks for you to stutter in your riding, freezing in his lap as your pussy fluttered and clenched sporadically; clipped breaths and broken moans of his name filling the air.

“Ah, C-Chris- Chris!”

The way your nails dug into his chest should’ve hurt - there would undoubtedly be marks left behind in the morning - but the only thing running through his mind was the way you looked practically vibrating in his hold, your scent further flooding his senses as the warmth of your cum further slickened his cock.

You barely had the chance to fully come down from your high when you felt a shift - then, you were falling, your back landing on the mattress and a pillow cushioning the back of your head; you were on your back now, and hovering above you was your massive, borderline feral, boyfriend.

“Did so good for me,” he purred, hands sliding up your stomach to your breasts, then down again to your thighs and the backs of your knees, “such a good girl, my good girl - mine.”

A shiver ran down your spine, your pussy clenching around his length that was, surprisingly, still inside of you despite the change of positions.

“So perfect - can’t even believe you’re real sometimes.” He raised your legs up and slightly outward, eyes set in a firm gaze where you were still connected, “You deserve so much, ‘m gonna give you everything - anything you want, it’s yours.”

“You.” Breathless and starry-eyed, you spoke up once more, “I just want you, please, Chr- Please, alpha.”

The speed at which his eyes met yours would’ve made you think you said something horrendously wrong, but when all you saw was a shadow of dominance further darkening his lust blown irises, you knew your words coaxed something free.

“You want me?” His tone was low, velvety, though the grip on the backs of your knees tightened and, without warning, he bucked his hips forward to sheath a lingering inch or so back inside of you, “Then take me, princess.”

If anything, his words were a warning for what was soon to come as you were held spread open for his viewing pleasure; the sound of the mattress squeaking becoming a background tempo to the rhythmic slapping of his thighs to the bottom of your ass - fast and deep, each thrust slowly inching your body up the bed as he easily followed.

Your hand pressed against the headboard, anchoring you in place before the top of your head could meet the wood, while the other wrapped around his forearm and held on for dear life - the only thing leaving your mouth being short moans and a chorus of ‘ah, ah, ah’s.

“I’ll give you everything,” Chris huffed breathlessly, his heated gaze traveling up your body before landing on your face, “all of me - my love, my knot, my cum-” A shudder ran through his body, his thrusts growing faster, “-every last drop, just like you want, yeah?”

The closest thing to a confirmation you could offer was a rapid nod of your head, eyes rolling as the fat head of his cock brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars.

“Words, baby - tell me.”

“Yes!” You cried out, tears of pleasure pricking your eyes as your second orgasm reared its head, “W-Want it- Want your knot! Need you to- F-Fuck, need you to fill me, please!”

Suddenly, you were dragged from the top of the bed toward the middle with ease, the presence of his hands behind your knees now changing to him locking your legs around his hips and propping himself up above you on his forearms.

“I’ll knot you so well, baby,” his nose brushed against yours, lips ghosting with each hushed word, “give you everything I have - I’ll make sure it sticks, you just need to take it.”

You panted pleas and promises against his lips, your arms locking around his shoulders as a hand found its way to his hair, while the other splayed across the top of his back - too far gone to fully consider the words he was saying, you just needed him.

“You can take it, you can take it.” He murmured softly, a stark contrast to the frantic thrusts currently shaking your body, “I know you can take it, right? It’ll fit, I’ll make it fit.”

A sudden grind of his hips had you flying over the edge of your second orgasm unexpectedly, barely managing a sharp moan as your back arched off of the bed as best it could with him caging you in.

Chris shivered, driving into you with short, sharp ruts as his orgasm finally began to show, the anticipation making him pant heavily above you while his eyes scanned your blissed out face; your body thrumming with the aftershocks of your high.

“C-Channie.” You whimpered, eyebrows pinching as a new presence made itself known in your abdomen, “Channie, w-what-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothed instantly, though his pace remained unchanged, “‘m almost there, princess, I just need-” A pained grunt escaped him, the beginnings of his knot starting to grow, “I need you to take it for me- Please, please, baby, take it, take me, okay? You can do it, you can.”

The increasing stretch made you keen, your nails now digging into his back in an attempt to counteract the pain, “It’s- It’s too much, baby - oh my god.” Despite your feigned protests, you found yourself locking your legs around his hips, your body more than willing to cross this next hurdle.

Each pull out became shallower and shallower, his knot slowly getting caught in your walls.

“Please, please, please, please, please.” He chanted desperately, his right hand fisting the crumpled sheets underneath you, “It can fit, it’ll fit - just a little more, princess, just a little-” The next thrust forward finally locked him in place, his knot fully surrounded by your tight walls, “Fuck! T-Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You shook underneath him, nonsensical babbles leaving your mouth as tears of pure pleasure streaked their way down your face, “I-I- C-Come, Channie, come- ‘S big, big-”

“I-I’m gonna,” Chris heaved above you, breath rugged and short, sweat dripping down his temples, “‘m gonna come, baby- I’m gonna- Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

His voice tapered off into a high pitched whine, followed by a groan as his cock throbbed inside of you, flooding your poor cunt with wave after wave of cum.

At some point you must’ve blacked out, because when you came to he was no longer gasping for air, however the ache between your legs was still very present - though, it wasn’t uncommon for him to stay inside of you after a creampie.

“Baby? Princess? Are you okay? What’s your color?”

Smiling dazedly, you hummed happily with a soft sigh, “Green, so green.”

You went to stretch your legs when a short tug stopped you in your tracks, Chris groaning above you with a sharp breath, “Don’t- Don’t move, baby.”

Running back the last few moments of consciousness, you were quickly and graciously reminded of your new predicament - though, said memory caused more harm than good, as your walls fluttered involuntarily at the spicy recollection of events.

“Baby.”

“I’m sorry!” You pouted at him, hanging your hands from his wide shoulders, “I can’t help it, it was hot.”

Chris scoffed out a chuckle, “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, but we’re gonna be stuck like this for a little bit until my knot goes down, okay?”

Nodding, you gave him a soft tug, smiling as he dropped his weight to lay on top of you before tucking his head in the crook of your neck, littering butterfly kisses to the undoubtedly damp skin there.

“You did such a great job, baby,” he murmured softly, nosing at the underside of your jaw, “I’m so proud of you, and… Thank you for wanting to help me through this - seriously, you didn’t have to and I just… I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too, darling,” you scratched your nails against his scalp gently, a soft hum vibrating through his chest, “just remember that I’m here for you no matter what - when I say I love you, that means all of you.” Accepting his sign of understanding as him raising slightly to catch your lips in a slow kiss, you gave him a tired smile, “Now, let me take a quick nap, because you and I both know there’s more where that came from.”

“Yeah… You’re in for a long night, princess.”

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