#some lines are thicker than other days

[falsesecuritysketches]

[ellaa-writes]

Gym rat König who fucks you in the locker room shower. (not edited)

He saw you first, walking up to the squat machine. Wearing tight black legging and just a sport bra. It was nearing midnight, König only came to the gym at night. Like a creature out of a horror movie, emerging from his crypt to do some weight lifting.

He couldn't stop staring, you must know he was staring. You probably did it on purpose, with the way your dressed, out late at night. Setting your water bottle down beside the machine you.

Watching you has you worked out, König long forgot what he was even doing to begin with. The heavy weights still in his hands, he let them drop to the floor without a thought. A loud thud rang though the gym, making you flinch and reel your head in his direction.

This was his opportunity, pulling at the bottom of his tank. He lifted it up to wipe off the sweat building on his forehead. Making sure his abs and chest were on full display. Hell he even flexed a little just to make sure you were looking. Hook, line and sinker, you snapped your head away as a blush crept up your chest to your face.

Today wasn't leg day, but for you it sure was. König sauntered over to the leg press machine which so happens to be right beside your machine. Giving it a quick wipe down before he looked in your direction and did his signature goofy smile, gummy and all.

"Haven't seen you here before." he called out to you, his accent thicker than usual. He was really laying it all on you. "I've been a few times but usually to busy." you replied back in between grunts. König watched has you worked up a sweat. Noticing your poor form and using that has an excuse to get closer.

"You're going to hurt yourself that way." he said nonchalantly, pointing to your back. You let the weights gently down as you sat facing him. "Leaning forward to much, watch I'll show you." he rose from his machine. Reaching you in one big step, he was so much bigger closer up. Like a skyscraper kissing the clouds, he had a surgical mask over the lower half of his face. But you still heard him like he was whispering in your ear.

You stepped back has König showed you the proper form. Doing one squat before he ushered you back to the machine. Helping you get the bar on your shoulders. His hand on your lower back, so big and wide and warm as hell. His other hand resting on your lower stomach, telling you to squat and you did. Feeling no pain as you did so, König asked "Better?" hands still on you. You just nodded your head, to dizzy to answer.

He stepped away but not far before you called out "If you don't mind, can you do that again. So I can get a better idea." König's heart started to pound as another sleezy smile spread across his face. He could show you a few more moves if you wanted, he said with a raise of an eyebrow.

Lucky for the both of you the gym was quiet dead that night. You, him and three others. He followed you back to the locker room, and into the showers. You shoved him in first, before following after and closing the curtains tight.

Konig had your leg slinged across his shoulder, your back pressed against the shower tile. The hot steam of the water filling the small enclosure. You other leg wrapped around his waist has he pounded your pussy.

He's whimpering and babbling in German, peppering your neck and chest in small kiss and bites. You nails digging into his back, panting like a bitch in heat. His thick cock hitting all the right spots, the tip bullying against your spongy cervix. His magic fingers working the bud of your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles.

The door to the locker room swung open, both you and König froze. His cock twitching inside your warm wet pussy. Listening to the sound of someone walking around, rummaging in their belongings before the always started up a shower.

Konig began to lazily pump his cock into you, slow thrusts that made your whole body buzz with need. You whined out causing König to cover your mouth with his hand. Leaning into your ear to shush you. And you tried, oh god you tried.

Letting his hand fall back down between your bodies. Working your clit once again and his thrusts became more focused and hard. The sound of the water pelting against the tiles drowning out the lewd noises coming from your stall.

You were so close, he could feel it. He was right their with you, snapping his hips harshly into your own. He was building you up until it all came crashing down. You bit into his shoulder to muffle your moan, your pussy convulsing around his cock. König could help himself, pumping his thick load into you. Grunting out before he bite his own tongue.

After a few silent moments between you to, the shower a few stalls over turned off. The curtain being yanked open and a few minutes later you bother were alone again.

He slowly washed his cum from your cunt, down on his knees. Looking up into your eyes he asked "Wanna go have a bite to eat?"

Thank you all for 600 followers!!

[55sturn]

✮ SOME TYPE OF WAY

pairing: biker!matt sturniolo x good girl fem!reader

synopsis: y/n takes matt up on the offer he proposes after they meet at a party, their tension thicker than their resolve.

warnings: swearing, reckless driving [ matt’s a thrill seeker / adrenaline junkie ], sexual tension, 18+, sexual content [ groping over and underneath the clothes ], making out, choking, spit swapping, open ending.

THIRD PERSON POV

y/n has always been a very organized person, every move she made was calculated and meticulous, not leaving enough room for error or her anxiety to spiral up a storm. some would lean toward calling her uptight, but she would let it roll off her back like water because she found a way for everything in her life to fall in line smoothly without many problems arising.

her best friend, jess, has always been the exact opposite of her. she was chaotic and messy, always running late, often being caught in compromising situations and relying on y/n to bail her out. the two were on the opposites of the personality spectrum, and people would screw their faces up at the sight of the two, but they paid no mind because their bond worked.

jess always joked about breaking y/n, turning into the opposite of her but y/n was stubborn, finding the utmost comfort in the way she lived. she didn't see the appeal of chaos and living without restriction.

but her class load had grown rather heavy, and she felt her impulse control weakening the more jess mentioned this massive influencer party that she had garnered invites for through multiple connections, and jess wasn’t backing down.

“fine. i think it’s time i take a break anyway, jess.”

“wait? are you for real right now?” jess exclaimed, shocked that for once in their friendship, she wasn’t going to a party alone.

WE ONLY MET EACH OTHER JUST THE OTHER DAY

as y/n followed jess through the crowd of people, she felt an overwhelming swarm of different and conflicting emotions, part of her wanted to turn around and walk back to her apartment, while the other part wanted to stick it out, figuring it couldn’t be as bad as she psyched herself out to believe, especially if jess, who was known for being blunt and outspoken if someone was overwhelming, could tolerate it.

y/n felt out of place, clad in a baby pink pleather mini skirt, and a matching pink long sleeve raglan baby tee, both courtesy of jess, and a pair of pink platform converse. she quickly trailed behind her best friend, who seemed to know her way around the house, more so mansion, they were partying at, heading toward the kitchen.

“so what are you wanting to drink?” jess hums, gesturing the otherworldly amounts of alcohol littering the large island in the kitchen.

“just pick something and make a drink for me.” y/n replies, turning back to face the crowd of people, watching as couples and people nearly fucked each other on various surfaces among the house. as her gaze kept flitting about the crowd of people, she briefly met the eyes of some guy across the room.

she felt her cheeks began to warm as he flashed her a lopsided smirk, his blue eyes boring into hers beneath the mop of shaggy brown hair. she returns his smirk, but hers is much gentler before turning back to jess, taking the red solo cup, staring at the dark liquid swirling in it. y/n cautiously takes a sip, while she trusts jess not to fuck her over and get her obnoxiously drunk, she’s still wary of the alcohol mixed with soda in her cup, she’s only been drunk a handful of times.

she swallows the dark drink, the taste of vodka mixed with the sweet, almost foamy taste of root beer filling her mouth, causing her to salivate ever so slightly as she takes another gracious sip.

“thank you for not giving me something other than vodka.” she laughs, watching as jess grabs two more solo cups, pouring two hefty shots of vodka into them, quickly handing one to y/n, who clinks her plastic cup against jess’ before quickly downing the shot, followed by a large gulp of her drink.

the two slowly make their way out of the kitchen, dancing with each other before beginning to talk and mingle with the rest of the people. y/n was shocked at how easily she fit into the world of influencers and content creators. as she made her way toward the deck, she felt eyes watching her, brushing it off she exited the stuffy house, finding solace in the cool april air clinging to her skin as she leaned against the railing of the wrap-around porch.

as proud as she was of herself for stepping away from her studies for a night, she still needed a moment of peace, or even just a moment alone.

but her tranquility was interrupted by the sliding door opening and shutting softly, she turned to head back inside but she was met with the same blue eyes she held contact with prior.

“hey.” he nods, pulling a cigarette from the pack that sat in his back pocket, grabbing a black and silver zippo lighter, flicking it quickly.

“hi.”

“so what’s a pretty little thing like you doing at a place like this?” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair, the dingy light from the fairy lights lining the roof catching his tattoos, completely enamouring y/n as she watched his arm flex and relax, the muscle tee he wore showing off his lean arms. at first glance, you wouldn’t expect him to have any muscle but as he moved his arm, y/n was thoroughly impressed.

“my friend dragged me here. what about you?” she replies, resting her tailbone against the railing as he smirks, his head cocked to the side as his eyes flick across her features.

“what’d’ya mean?”

“just that you don’t seem like the party either, very quiet.”

“and how do you know that, sweetheart?”

“well seeing as i came out here because it’s overwhelming in there, and you did the same, and we’re the only two people out here, i’m assuming you came out here for the same reason.” she laughs, taking a sip of her drink, holding his curious stare over the rim of the flimsy cup, not once dropping his intense gaze.

“what if i just wanted to get you alone?” he teases, watching as she rolls her eyes, laughing to himself.

“then you’d be a total creep. i don’t even know your name.” she laughs, shocking herself at how easily she warmed up to him.

“it’s matt.”

“you look like a matt.” she hums placing her empty cup on the railing beside before pushing herself up, sitting along the wide railing, her legs dangling slightly as matt puffs on his cigarette, flicking the ashes on the grass below.

“what about you? you got a name or am i gonna have to keep calling you sweetheart?”

“y/n.” she whispers, her face warming at the nickname falling from his lips, she normally wasn’t one for slightly condescending pet names, but it sounded so sickly and sinfully sweet coming from the stranger beside her.

“that suits you, a pretty name for such a pretty girl.” he muses, watching as she turns her head away from in a futile attempt to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks.

“your tattoos are really pretty.”

“you think so?” he hums, shifting closer to her to let her see them, watching as her eyes shift from each intricate piece, marvelling at the dark ink contrasting against his ivory skin.

“what’s your favourite one?”

“probably cerberus or the owl. what about you? you got any?” he asks, genuinely curious to know more about the girl beside him, wondering if there was more to the soft and timid appearance.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased, crossing her legs, causing her skirt to ride up the tiniest bit, showing the smallest amount of ink on the side of her thigh, smirking as matt’s eyes shamelessly drifted to the exposed skin.

the two keep talking and getting to know one another, even going as far as to get each other’s numbers, the tension growing thick between the two until jess stumbles through the door, violently drunk as she babbles away about some guy she wanted to leave with.

“if she wants to go with him, i can give you a ride home on my bike.”

“we took an uber, so i’ll just order another one but i appreciate the offer.”

“well if you ever need a ride, just shoot me a text.”

BUT YOU ALREADY GOT ME FEELIN’ SOME TYPE OF WAY

over the course of a few weeks, y/n and matt continued to keep in touch, constantly texting one another. the tension never faltering as they bounced flirty and sexual innuendos off one another.

matt has begged for the two of them to hang out, either over facetime or in person, numerous times, even going as far as to ask to take her for a ride on his bike. but she declined every time, letting him know that her studies came first.

normally, if a girl wasn’t really interested in meeting up, whether to hang out or hook up, matt would give up within the first few days. but there was something about y/n that had him inexplicably drawn to her. the soft, delicate, almost innocent appeal to her had him feeling all sorts of ways.

talking to her had him feeling the same way speeding down the seventy stretch a couple blocks from his house on his kawasaki bike did. it was exhilarating, freeing, and terrifying all the same. everything she said, made him feel things he had never experienced, it was like he was speeding down a winding freeway, his arms outstretched on either side of him, letting fate decide what happened.

NOW IF I COULD FIGURE IT OUT, ID TAKE YOU BACK TO MY HOUSE SO WE COULD MEDDLE ABOUT

y/n sighed as she waited on the curb of the restaurant, hoping that the guy from her global economics discussion course that had asked her out would show up. but she knew deep down, he wasn’t going to.

it was another story where she was asked, only to be taken for a fool. she knew he only wanted to fuck, she knew guys were attracted to her pseudo-innocent appearance, thinking they could be the lucky one to corrupt her. but she knew better, and she always made sure the guys put up a fight before receiving what they wanted.

she sighed as she stood, wiping off the back of her jeans before pulling her phone out of her pocket. she opened her texts with jess before remembering jess was at a photoshoot for some clothing brand that reached out to her.

she stood there, glancing and forth between her phone and the sidewalk, torn between swallowing her pride and reaching out to matt to pick her up, or walking home, saving ego from taking a massive blow.

she was stubborn. she wanted to see matt, but she knew what his end goal was and she refused to take another hit to her pride and ego so quickly after being stood up and humiliated by some loser in one of her classes. so, she slowly made her way down the winding sidewalk, but the cold air made the walk somewhat unbearable, and before she knew it, she was pressing the call button, listening to the dial tone. after two rings, matt picked up.

“hey sweetheart.” he hummed into the speaker, that same taunting tone never faltering over the device.

“can you pick me up? i’ll send you my location.”

“aw, what happened? did jake stand you up, just like i said he would?” he laughs, causing her to groan. he was never malicious in the way he poked and prodded at her, he just wanted to prove she didn’t have to be right all the time.

“yeah whatever. can you pick me up or not?” she spits, fed up with the way her night turned out.

“lose the attitude and i can.” he spits back, patiently waiting for her to ask in that sugary sweet voice that had his thoughts drifting to a dark place. he knew he was going to pick her up regardless, but he just wanted to use anything he could as an excuse to hear her beg for him, he wanted hee to be completely at his mercy in every possible way.

“can you please pick me up matt? i’m cold and i just wanna go home.” she pleads, her lips falling into a slight pout, internally groaning at how quickly her resolve had faltered the second he implied and demanded that she beg for him.

“i was going to regardless, just wanted to hear you beg for my help, sweetheart.” he chuckles, he knew the way he was acting was sick and twisted, his desire to see this stubborn but oh so innocent woman crumple beneath his command overtaking all sense of chivalry in his body, his desire for her manifested through such deep desperation.

she quickly thanked him before sending a ping of her location. she pocketed her phone again, and wrapped her arms around her torso as a pathetic attempt to keep her shielded from her the cold air.

as she stood there, she fought hard to keep her thoughts at bay, refusing to let the desperation seep into the depths of her mind, fighting to keep herself from feeling pathetic. she didn’t want to feel that way, she knew her worth, but sometimes it felt impossible to find someone worthy of loving her. she wondered if she should just give up the one the thing guys wanted without a fight, she would be fine, right?

but before she could answer her own thoughts of despair, a low rumble came from her left, causing her head to snap in that direction. surely enough, the sound came from the muffled engine of matt’s motorcycle. and as she watched him swerve to idle in front of her, she couldn’t stop the filthy thoughts from infiltrating her mind. her eyes shamelessly fell to the sight of his hands wrapped tightly around the handlebars, the veins in his slender hands flexing as his thumb pressed down on the clutch. she felt her thighs clench tightly as her heartbeat thumped beneath her chest, the thumping slowly travelling down toward her heat as she watched him.

“hey sweetheart.” he hums, his tone thick with arrogance, watching as she shamelessly checked him out. she knew she shouldn’t be thinking of him the way she was, but the way his shoulder blades and muscle tightened and flexed as he shifted forward, leaving space for her to climb on behind him, made her want to rake her nails down the skin, her mind running amok with the possible ways he would react to her touch.

she shakes her head as she steps forward, timidly taking a step toward his bike. he watched her, taking in however scared she was, sighing he, grabs her wrist, stopping her from climbing over and straddling the seat behind him.

“you know i’ll be careful right? i’m not going to do anything that could end with you getting severely hurt.” he whispers, his eyes full of nothing but sincerity as she meets his stare, a meek smile on her face as she nods.

“good girl. now climb on, i’m gonna take my chances and take you on that ride i promised.”

her thighs clench involuntarily at the slight praise that falls from his lips, she could feel her resolve slipping further and further away the longer she was in his presence. and the fact that she would be sitting behind him, with her arms tightly wound around his waist felt much more intimate than it should’ve.

she quickly straddled the seat behind him, her hands began to shake slightly as she wrapped her arms around him, her hands flat against his abdomen as he kicked up the kickstand, leaning the bike to the other side with his foot on the ground as he revved the engine, causing her hands to ball into fists, with his black shirt tightly twisted between her fingers. as matt took off, he couldn’t help but chuckle as her grasp tightened against him, her cheek pressing against his back between his shoulder blades.

her grip began to loosen as matt took her around the city, and her head lifted from his back, as she took in the scenery around her. but matt missed the way she felt pressed so tightly against him, so in true torturous fashion, he sped up, causing her to go right back to pressing so closely against him, her hands pressing against his lower stomach so firmly, he was sure there’d be marks.

but he didn’t wanted to scare her too much, so he slowed down, coming to a full stop as the light above him flickered to red. as she pulled away, she felt her adrenaline build up and she wanted to finally tease him the way he did her, so she let her hands wander down his stomach, teasingly drifting lower, only to stop right above his belt and move back up.

as her hand trailed down toward his belt, matt’s breath hitched in his throat. he desperately wanted to feel her touch him where he needed it most, but his ego was bruised, he wanted to be the one in control, and right now, he was nothing putty in her hand. the light was still red and his heart was beating so harshly against his ribcage, that felt like it was about to burst out of his chest as her hand slipped beneath his shirt, her fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans.

as the light turned green, she pushed her hand further beyond his waistband, and he had never been more thankful to be driving at night. but before he could feel any relief, her hand was back against his stomach, with her head against his back as he drove her along the coast.

but once again they reached another red light, only one other vehicle a few lanes over from them, and this time she threw caution to the wind as her hand drifted downward again, this time not stopping at his belt. and soon enough, her hand was firmly palming his cock through his jeans, and he was biting his bottom lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood began filling his mouth.

he felt his cock stiffen even more as her hand wrapped around his length through his jeans, softly squeezing and applying pressure to it. her hand lifted momentarily, only for it to slip beneath the loosened waistband of his jeans, resuming her teasing but this time, only through one layer of clothing. her thumb traced along his tip, and she smirked to her as she felt the wet spot from his precum seeping through the material. she grasped his semi-thick cock over his boxers, slowly jerking her hand back and forth as best as she could until the light turned green. and matt had never been so lucky that the light turned green when it did because if she had kept up her ministrations, he would’ve cum in his pants right then and there.

he wasted no time in speeding off as the light turned green, taking her to a somewhat secluded turn off. he quickly killed the engine, forced the kickstand down, and ripped off his helmet, moving to stand in front of her before she could ask questions.

his lips were roughly pressing against hers in almost no time as she side-saddled the bike, his left hand pawing at her hips beneath the thin hoodie she wore as he pulled her closer, while his right hand wrapped around her throat, gently squeezing the soft flesh.

the kiss was rough, a clash of teeth, and full of lust. it was desperate and sloppy, their tongues brushing and pushing against one another as spit and drool accumulated along the muscles, transferring from mouth to mouth. her nails scraped against his scalp as she tugged on the soft brown curls, while her other hand held his bicep, her nails digging into the taught flesh slightly, leaving crescent shaped marks along the tattoos. pulling away, matt pulled her bottom lip with him slightly, entrance by the way it bounced back into its natural pout.

“fuck.” he hums, his chest heaving as she watches him, her pupils blown out with lust, the black drowning out their normal colour.

“i don’t know what came over me, i’m sorry.”

“don’t you dare apologize, sweetheart. but that is making it nearly impossible to not take you back to my house and ruin you.”

“what if i want that too?”

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[diejager]

Nooo but there is something about the monster au where there is a casual mention from her that she won't live as long as them (I assume monsters/hybrids are longer lived plus she is a lot more likely to die on mission), like she probably just jokes about it offhandedly and it sends all of them feral because... no? Absolutely not? Insulting. Ridiculous. Not happening.

Cue ultimate clinginess, all rushing to be more intimate because the thought of her not being around is abhorrent. Soap maybe losing it a bit going off on a line of thought about how he could mate her right? Would it be awful if there was a way for her to be a wolf shifter?

I AM GOING TO LOSE MY MIND

Change cw: mention of turning, mention of death, joking about death, tell me if I missed any.

All options are on the table at this point, death had always been something that loomed over them like a shadow, the veil and sickle of death following you wherever you went. You’ve had more than one reminder of your short life, your vulnerability as a human, weak and tender skin, short lives and a delicate body. There were so many things in the world that could pose a possible danger to you and they hated that.

You lived shorter lives than most monsters or hybrids, you grew sick and frail whereas hybrids could fight any viral infections or diseases, you didn’t have thicker skin despite all the extra layers of protective gear and you were a target of many for your choice of career. They were reminded of you mortality whenever you get hurt, blood painting your skin with a strong, metallic odour.

And it didn’t help that you’d often joke about it, throwing offhanded comments that made their hackles raise, body tense and mind brewing with what ifs scenario that has them tearing their hair from the root. While some monsters were more solitary than others, all of them were possessive of what they deemed their family —pack.

Ghost and König stuck closer during training, a tall, imposing figure behind you that acted as a guard dog to ward away anyone they deemed a danger. Soap and Horangi hung around you in the rec room, either laying on you or clinging to you, putting a show of ownership over you. Rudy and Alejandro, the ever active couple, were always finding you around the base, striking up a conversation and wrapping their arms around you. Gaz would was the cuddliest of the group, finding time outside of his busy to snuggle up against you and cover you with his wings, pulling you to sleep on his shoulder. Price, the man with the most authority in the TF made sure that you were always with someone on every Op, having someone to back you up in the most dire situation.

Every visit to the medic made them wild, it brought them closer to desperate measures. Would it be so bad to turn you in one? Would it be so bad to let Soap bite you during the full moon, his bite infecting you with his power: thicker skin, sturdier build, longer lifespan and better sense? The only draw backs were the higher wildness, near feral during full moons and a competitive mindset over the possessiveness and brattiness of a young werewolf.

Would it be so bad to make you return as a wraith? While Ghost learned to control his powers alone, the pain and emotions building up in his body without any way of letting it out, you had him, you wouldn’t be alone with the resurrection. He didn’t want you to feel the terror and agony by yourself —he didn’t want you to know how it felt to die and come back.

Would it be so bad to have a vampire turn you into one without becoming a thrall? You couldn’t walk in the sun, something you told them you enjoyed, you’d be restrained to specific activities and you wouldn’t like that, being limited by the sun. Granted, there were solutions to that, but none very comfortable.

They knew you were aware of your mortality, made fun of it and laughed as it this was your last day, but you didn’t fear death, you only feared leaving them. You were open to their thoughts, listening to their ideas and options with a neutral expression, but you didn’t reject the idea of turning you. That was a good thing, a step forward in their mind.

Now all that needed to do was to let you decide which path you wanted to walk.

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[domm1etae]

Possession

welcome to domm1etae's kinktober day 1 : SIZE KINK

hongjoong x f!reader

2.7k

when Y/N gets too close to a friend at a gathering, Hongjoong’s quiet jealousy simmers beneath the surface, leading to an intense confrontation as soon as they’re alone

nsfw tags under

m/f, top hongjoong, bottom reader, vaginal sex, rough sex, dominance, submission, size kink, possession, jealousy, dirty talk, power play, manhandling, orgasm control, claiming kink, breath play, control, pet names, kissing

Requests OPEN! - let me know through the ask button if you have any requests for this Kinktober

author's note: this was suggested by @arki-sha in my comments. here is the original prompt:

Possessive!Hongjoong + Size Kink I really think that HJ would really go feral if his partner is someone who is smaller than him like he would really use their size difference to his advantage since he can't use it that often to others since he is usually much shorter and smaller than his members.

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Y/N could tell something was off with Hongjoong the moment they arrived at the gathering. He was quiet, almost too quiet, which was unusual for him. She knew him well enough to sense when something was brewing beneath the surface. But Hongjoong wasn’t the type to cause a scene in front of others—he held his emotions close to his chest until they were alone.

The night went on, and Y/N found herself laughing along with one of their friends, a guy she’d known for years. He had a harmless charm about him, always cracking jokes and lightening the mood. She nudged him playfully when he made some ridiculous comment, not thinking twice about it—until she caught a glimpse of Hongjoong from across the room.

His eyes were on them, sharp and unblinking, his jaw set in a tight line. Y/N’s stomach flipped. She hadn’t meant to upset him, but she could feel the jealousy radiating off him in waves. Hongjoong was possessive by nature, especially when it came to her. He wasn’t controlling, but the idea of someone else getting too close to her—especially another man—always triggered something primal in him.

Throughout the rest of the evening, Y/N tried to engage Hongjoong in conversation, hoping to smooth things over, but he remained distant. His replies were short, and the tension between them grew thicker with each passing minute. She could see it in the way his eyes darkened every time the other guy spoke to her, the way his hand gripped his glass just a little too tight.

She knew he was holding back, but she also knew that once they were alone, he wouldn’t hold back anymore.

As soon as they said their goodbyes and got into the car, the silence was suffocating. Y/N glanced over at Hongjoong, trying to read his expression, but he was staring straight ahead, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Joong, are you okay?” she asked softly, already knowing the answer.

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, in a voice low and rough, he said, “Do I look okay?”

Y/N bit her lip, feeling a mix of guilt and apprehension. She hadn’t meant to make him jealous, but she also knew there was no point in trying to defend herself right now. Hongjoong’s possessiveness had taken over, and once that switch was flipped, there was only one way it would end.

The ride home felt like it stretched on forever, and the second they stepped through the front door, Hongjoong’s hand was on her wrist, pulling her towards him with a firm, almost desperate grip.

“We need to talk,” he growled, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and something darker, something possessive.

Y/N’s heart raced as she nodded, letting him lead her into the living room. His body was tense, his movements sharp, and she could feel the weight of his jealousy pressing down on her like a storm about to break.

“Do you have any idea what you were doing tonight?” Hongjoong’s voice was low, but there was an edge to it that made Y/N’s pulse quicken. He released her wrist and began pacing in front of her, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “Laughing with him, touching him like that—do you think I wouldn’t notice? Do you think I wouldn’t care?”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but the words got stuck in her throat. She knew trying to explain herself would only make things worse. Instead, she swallowed hard and tried to keep her voice calm. “Joong, I didn’t mean anything by it. We were just talking.”

“Talking?” he spat the word like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He stopped pacing and turned to face her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “You were practically all over him, Y/N. And he was eating it up, wasn’t he? Acting like he had a chance.”

Y/N shook her head, her voice soft but firm. “He’s just a friend. You know that.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, towering over her. “I don’t care,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t want him or anyone else that close to you. You’re mine, Y/N. Only mine.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as he closed the distance between them, his hand sliding up to cup her face, his touch gentle but his grip firm enough to let her know he wasn’t playing around. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, his eyes dark and full of that possessive heat that always made her heart race.

She could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, a storm of jealousy and desire swirling just beneath the surface. Her heart pounded in her chest, knowing what was coming next, knowing that Hongjoong wasn’t just angry—he was possessive in a way that made her feel both vulnerable and exhilarated.

“Do you have any idea what it does to me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “to see someone else touching you? Even just for a second?”

Y/N couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, her pulse quickening under the intensity of his stare. “Joong…”

His fingers slid down her neck, wrapping lightly around her throat. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make her feel small, completely at his mercy. “Do you know what I was thinking about the whole time?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “I was thinking about how I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this. How no one else can make you feel the way I do.”

Y/N’s knees felt weak as his hand tightened just a little, his grip commanding and possessive. She could feel the heat of his body pressing against hers, the intensity of his jealousy driving him to take control, to remind her who she belonged to.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.

His eyes darkened, and a slow, predatory smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, you will be.”

Before she could react, Hongjoong’s lips crashed against hers, the kiss hard and possessive, his hands moving to grip her hips, pulling her flush against him. His fingers dug into her skin, not painful but insistent, as if he needed to feel every inch of her under his control.

Y/N melted into the kiss, her hands gripping his shoulders as his possessiveness fueled the fire between them. She could feel his jealousy in every movement, every rough touch, as if he was trying to erase the memory of anyone else being close to her.

Without breaking the kiss, Hongjoong pushed her backwards, guiding her towards the bedroom. His lips never left hers, his hands wandering over her body with a kind of urgency that made Y/N’s head spin. The second they reached the bed, he pulled away, leaving her breathless and dazed as he stood over her, his chest heaving.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “No one else gets to have you like this.”

Y/N could barely breathe as she watched him, her body trembling with anticipation. She knew what was coming, and the thought sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. Hongjoong wasn’t just going to make love to her—he was going to claim her, to remind her of her place in his arms.

He undressed quickly, his movements sharp and precise, and within moments, he was standing over her, fully bare. Y/N’s eyes widened as she took him in, the sight of his body making her pulse race. Hongjoong wasn’t the biggest man physically, but right now, with the intensity in his eyes and the way he loomed over her, he felt massive.

He crawled over her, his body pressing her into the mattress as he pinned her wrists above her head. “You’re so tiny beneath me,” he murmured, his voice full of dark satisfaction. “Perfectly made for me.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she felt his hands roaming over her body, his touch rough and possessive. Every stroke of his fingers sent a thrill through her, reminding her of just how much control he had over her in this moment.

“Hongjoong,” she whimpered, her body arching towards his touch.

He smirked down at her, his eyes gleaming with that same possessive heat. “You crave this, don’t you?” he growled, his hand sliding between her thighs, teasing her until she was trembling beneath him. “You want to feel how much I want you.”

Y/N could only nod, her voice lost in a soft moan as he continued to tease her, driving her to the brink of madness with every touch. She loved the way he made her feel—small, vulnerable, and utterly claimed.

Hongjoong’s fingers ghosted over her skin, teasingly slow as he traced the curve of her waist, then down to her thighs. His eyes never left hers, dark with desire and something more primal, more intense. He relished this—loved seeing her smaller frame beneath him, her body completely at his mercy, helpless to whatever he decided to do next. Y/N’s breath was ragged, each teasing touch driving her closer to the edge, and he knew it. He was enjoying every second of it, watching her squirm under his control.

“Damn, you look irresistible like this,” he murmured, voice deep and rough, his thumb brushing the inside of her thigh, just shy of where she desperately wanted him. “I could lose myself in you, baby.”

Y/N whimpered, her hips shifting involuntarily as she tried to press herself closer to his hand, but he held her down firmly. The look on his face was all dominance, all control. She was his, and he was going to make sure she knew it—every inch of her.

Her mind was spinning, thoughts scattered as her body reacted to every brush of his fingertips. She had never felt so small, so overwhelmed by his presence, and yet it thrilled her to the core. The way Hongjoong looked at her, like she was the only thing in his world, filled her with an intoxicating mix of desire and submission. His jealousy had transformed into something powerful, something that made her feel utterly consumed by him.

“Joong, please…” Y/N’s voice was barely a whisper, pleading, but she couldn’t help it. She needed more—needed him to take her completely, to feel him inside her, filling her, claiming her.

His lips curled into a smirk at her desperation, and he leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. “You want me to give you everything, huh?” he teased, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “What if I want to make you wait a little longer?”

Y/N shuddered, her breath catching as his lips brushed her ear. “You know what you do to me,” she breathed, her body aching for him.

Hongjoong chuckled darkly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “Trust me, I know. And I can’t get enough of it. You’re the only one I want to see like this.” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. “I want to remind you that no one else can touch you the way I do.”

Without warning, he pushed her legs apart, settling himself between them, his hands gripping her hips with a possessive force that made her gasp. He loved seeing her like this—vulnerable, exposed, completely under his control. His cock was hard, pressing against her entrance, and he took a moment to savor the look on her face, the way her body trembled with anticipation.

“I don’t want you looking at anyone else,” Hongjoong murmured, his lips brushing her neck, kissing, biting softly. “You’re mine, Y/N. Just mine.”

“I know,” she whimpered, her body arching into him, desperate for him to move. “I’m yours, Joong.”

“Good girl,” he muttered, his voice sending a shiver down her spine. And with that, he thrust into her, hard and deep, stretching her in a way that made her gasp, her body tensing as he filled her completely.

Y/N’s head fell back against the pillow, her breath catching in her throat as Hongjoong settled himself fully inside her. The stretch was overwhelming, the feeling of him so deep that it made her toes curl. He didn’t give her time to adjust, though—his hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he started moving, slow at first, but each thrust deliberate, calculated.

“You feel that?” he growled, his eyes locked on hers, his voice low and rough. “That’s me reminding you how much you mean to me.”

Y/N could only moan in response, her body reacting instinctively to the way he took her, each thrust pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She felt so small beneath him, so helpless, and the way Hongjoong’s body pressed down on hers made her feel completely owned. He wasn’t just fucking her—he was claiming her, marking her as his.

With each movement, Hongjoong’s jealousy seemed to fuel his desire, his pace picking up, rougher, more insistent. He thrust deep into her, each motion filling her completely, the size difference between them only heightening the intensity. She couldn’t escape the way he filled her, couldn’t escape his hold, and that thought alone sent waves of heat through her.

“Joong—” Y/N gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he thrust harder, her mind a blur of pleasure and need.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded, his voice a low growl, his pace relentless. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m yours,” she breathed, her voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “Only yours.”

A dark, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he heard the words he wanted. “That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured, leaning down to capture her lips in a bruising kiss. His hand slid down her body, teasingly slow, before it found its way between her legs. His fingers brushed against her clit, and Y/N cried out, her body arching into him as he started to rub slow circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The combination of his cock thrusting deep inside her and the pressure on her clit sent her spiraling. Her moans grew louder, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as Hongjoong pushed her closer to the edge.

“You’re loving every second of this, aren’t you?” he muttered, his voice rough as he watched her fall apart beneath him. “You love how I make you feel—like you’re the only one in the world.”

Y/N couldn’t respond—she was too overwhelmed, her body trembling with pleasure as Hongjoong continued to thrust into her, his fingers working her clit with precision. She was so close, so close she could feel the tension building inside her, ready to snap at any moment.

“Come for me,” Hongjoong growled, his voice commanding as his pace quickened. “Come for me, baby. Show me how much you need me.”

That was all it took. With a loud, broken moan, Y/N’s body tensed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her walls clenched around him, and Hongjoong cursed under his breath, his thrusts becoming erratic as her body milked him.

The sight of her coming undone beneath him, so small and helpless under his control, sent Hongjoong over the edge. With a deep, guttural groan, he thrust into her one last time, burying himself as deep as he could as he spilled inside her, claiming her in every sense of the word.

For a moment, they stayed like that, both of them breathing heavily, their bodies pressed together as the waves of pleasure slowly ebbed away. Hongjoong’s hands loosened their grip on her hips, his touch becoming softer, more tender as he gently pulled out of her and collapsed beside her on the bed.

Y/N’s body was still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm, her mind hazy with satisfaction. She turned her head to look at Hongjoong, and to her surprise, his eyes were soft now, the earlier fire of jealousy replaced by something gentler.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re mine,” he whispered, the possessiveness still there but tempered by affection. “Always.”

Y/N smiled, her body relaxing into the warmth of his embrace. “Always,” she echoed, feeling utterly content in his arms.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 10

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: back to work but still hurting.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You’re grateful only for the reprieve of Sy’s shower. He spends at least an hour in the bathroom but it’s not nearly enough time to figure this out. He’s not going anywhere and you have no way of changing that. And with how things are going, it won’t be long before you’re entirely trapped with him. 

The helplessness suffocates you. You slowly get up, needing to do something, anything to keep your thoughts from spiralling further. Or him. 

You go to the kitchen and pull out some chicken. Even with your recent shop, what you have won’t last. Not with two people. You marinate the tender breast as you pull out the jasmine rice and your mini rice cooker. Everything you have is built for one, it’s another reminder that he’s invaded your life. 

The bathroom door opens and you stay hidden in the kitchen. It’s only as he calls your name that you poke your head out. You don’t want him to think you’ve tried to escape again. Imagine that, escaping your own life. 

“Here,” you squeak and your mouth hangs open. He stands in only a towel. It’s low enough that the trail of hair along his stomach grows thicker just above the knot. Your lashes flick and you cough, “just starting dinner. Jerk chicken and... and rice.” 

“Sounds delicious,” he grins and runs his fingers through his beard. “Much better than field rations, eh, Aika?” 

He whistles at the dog and she perks her ears up. Sy sighs and drops his arms, smiling at you dreamily. Your eyes wander to the scars all over his body; a thick raised one along his ribs and smaller ones flecked along his shoulder and a line on his lower stomach. 

“I’ll get dressed,” he rubs his hands together, “can’t be eatin’ in my towel, huh?” 

“Sure, uh, I... I’ll be in here.” 

You go back into the kitchen and stare at the rice maker. You see the reflection of his scarred mind in his body. Again you can’t help the rent in your heart. That sympathy that underlines your fear. He’s a tortured soul but not one you can soothe. You don't know where to begin. 

You put the chicken in the oven and set the rice to cook. Next you look for a veggie. Broccoli. Standard. You’ll add a bit of seasoning. You’re not very hungry, even as the aromas rise in the air. 

“God, it’s hot in here,” Sy growls as he appears in the doorway that opens to the dining space.  

“It’s the oven,” you say as rinse the head of broccoli, “sorry.” 

“Ah, you know, it’s not half so bad as the desert,” he chuckles, “Aika knows. The way the sand gets all in your mouth and—and everywhere else.” 

“I can’t imagine,” you murmur, “wouldn’t be a day at the beach, I’m sure.” 

“Mm, no,” he agrees as he leans on the wall, “not a bad idea. I could take ya down for a beach day. We could get some good pictures. A few videos.” 

“Maybe, I don’t know,” you focus on your task. You put the broccoli on the cutting board and pull out a knife. 

“You want me to get that, sweetie? Don’t wanna cut yourself now,” he pushes away from the wall. 

“No, I got it,” you line up the knife and chop the head in half. He winces. 

“It’s dangerous, you got a smaller one?” 

“Really, Sy, I’m fine,” you insist as he looms closer, “let me just get dinner ready and you can sit--” you hiss as you pull your finger back at the sudden slip. 

“I told ya,” he accuses as he grabs your hand and examines it. His grip is iron and you don’t resist. There’s no blood. 

“It was just my nail,” you wiggle the top of your finger, “please--” 

“Let me do it,” he insists and reaches for your other hand, “give me the knife, sweetie.” 

You hesitate but hand it over. You’re not sure why he’s so nervous about it. Still, there’s no sense fighting over sharp objects. 

“We gotta work together, don’t we?” He says as he chops.  

“Sure,” you agree thinly. 

You turn to get a sheet pan for the broccoli. You’ll dress in oil and some spices, maybe a bit of lemon juice. As you lay parchment paper over it, he drops the knife in the sink. 

He remains, crowding you as he watches you work. You spread out the little branches and drizzle them over. You put them in beside the chicken and rinse off your hands. You dry off and glance over at Sy. He's watching you. 

“You really don’t have to stay out here,” you say. 

“I like being around you,” he grins, “still can’t believe it’s real.” 

Me neither, you think. 

“Well, all that’s left is the waiting,” you set a timer, “so...” 

“Ah, well, s’pose we can do that on the couch.” 

“Oh, well, I was gonna get the laundry together,” you say, the excuse popping up spontaneously. 

“Why don’t you wait ‘til tomorrow?” 

“Right, uh, I wanted to get it done. I need to get back to my commissions tomorrow.” 

“Mmm,” he hums flatly, “you work too hard.” 

You withhold a mean thought. He hasn’t mentioned work since he showed up. What about that desk he was talking about? You know better than to challenge him. You’ll keep the peace as long as you have to. Get through dinner then worry about the real test; bedtime. 

“Alright, let’s sit,” you relent and reach for his large hand.  

It’s not an affectionate gesture, merely appeasing. You can still hear his voice booming and the thump his skull made on the wall. Not to mention the state of his face and the dent in your wall. You can’t forget what he’s capable of. You can’t deny that you’re lucky he only hurt himself. 

He lets you guide him out of the kitchen and you try not to show your reticence. You won’t think of what happened on the couch last time. Besides, you can’t leave the food to burn. 

💗

You eat at the table. It’s an excuse for some space. As you waited for the timer to save you, you were trapped in his embrace. His constant touching and cooing. You should be flattered when someone tells you you’re pretty and perfect but he just makes you want to combust. 

You can hardly stay still. You clear the table and tidy up what mess is left in the kitchen. You can hear him prowling in the other room. You wipe down the table and peek up as he stops to watch you. 

“Almost done?” He asks. 

“Sure, uh, I’ll finish and get washed up for the night.” 

“Washed up?” He echoes. 

“Brush my teeth, wash my face, all that,” you explain. 

“Oh, yeah, makes sense.” 

“What about Aika? She need to go out?” 

He stops and looks at the dog, still laying at the door. 

“She should,” he intones grimly, “I’ll take her then.” 

He disappears into the bedroom as you let out a breath. It’s not much. You know you’re just putting off the inevitable. He reemerges with the jangle of keys and you see your phone case peeking out of a pocket in his cargo shorts. He might seem scattered but there’s something about him that assures you he’s just as calculated. 

“I’ll be back,” he assures and stops just by the door, “sure you don’t wanna come with us?” 

You rinse off the cloth and shake it out. 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“You should come...” he mumbles. 

“Sy,” you go to the doorway parallel to the apartment door, “I promise, I won’t go anywhere.” 

You have nowhere to go. 

He stares at you. His looks pale and drawn. He cracks his neck as he tilts his head one way then the other. He lets out a long exhale as he sets his head straight and he steps closer. Aika stands, her paws scuffing on the hardwood. You gulp as he makes himself bigger and glares down at you. 

“I know you won’t,” he says quietly, “because you know I’ll follow you anywhere, don’t you, sweetie?” 

You bat your lashes and gulp. You nod, “yes, captain.” 

His lips curve and he reaches to grab you, cradling the back of your head as he pulls you close and kisses your forehead, “good girl. Get nice and fresh for me.” 

He lets you go with a growl and you stand frozen between the counters. Aika watches him with her doleful eyes as he steps into his boots. He opens the door and points her out, not bothering to take the leash with him. She looks at you, wiggling her nose, before she goes. 

The door snaps shut behind Sy and jolt you. You can’t shake the grit in his voice. The subliminal threats laced into his proclamation of devotion. He found you and he’ll find you again, so why bother trying to run? 

You shut off the kitchen light and flit into the bedroom. You gather up a set of pajamas. A white tee and short pairing with little sliced oranges stamped into the fabric. You lock yourself in the bathroom and face yourself in the mirror. You look just as afraid as you feel. 

You lay out the pajamas to one side of the sink and put on the fluffy headband that keeps your hair out of the way. You start your usual routine, the familiarity the only comfort you have left. Brushing flossing, exfoliating, moisturizing, and toning. It’s the little things you started to make yourself feel better but they just aren’t working this time. 

You hear him return as you button up the pajama top. You stare at the door with dread and gather up your shirt and skirt, along with your panties and bra. You teeter on the balls of your feet, trying to find whatever you might call courage. He gets there first. 

The knock makes you jump. You quickly go to the door and flip back the lock. He opens the door from the other side before you can. 

“Everything okay?” He asks. 

“Yes,” you answer dumbly as you hug your armful of clothes. 

“Oh, you look... nice. Refreshed.” 

“Um, yeah,” you say as you waver. There’s no room to get around him. 

He steps back and waves you out. You carry the clothing into the bedroom to dump in the hamper and turn to find him looming in the doorway. Great. 

“You smell good,” he purrs as he peels off his shirt. 

“Did you lock the door?” You ask. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout that. You got me here to take care of ya,” he scoffs and hurls the shirt so it just barely clings to the side of the hamper. “Those are some cute jammies.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you look down and pinch the sides of the shorts. 

“Long day,” he stretches and drops his arms, unbuttoning his shorts shamelessly. 

“Yep,” you agree, “be nice to sleep.” 

You go to the edge of the bed and slip beneath the duvet. You tuck your chin down as you hug yourself beneath the fluffy cover and keep your back to him. He flips the light off and you nearly whimper. The bed dips behind you and cool air flows under the blanket as he climbs in behind you. 

You’re not surprised when he swathes you in his thick arm. He pulls you against him, his furry chest flush to you as he purrs. You grasp his forearm and squirm as his heat surrounds you. He nuzzles your hair and plumes hot breath over your scalp. 

“Ain’t this nice? I could spend every night like this,” he growls as he keeps you curled up in one arm as his other hand trails down your side. “Never slept much over in the s—over there.” 

You squeak and stare into the static darkness. You tremble and force out a yawn. Maybe he’ll get the hint. For once. 

“I’m tired too, sweetie,” he toys with the bottom button on your shirt, “I know I’ll sleep all nice and cozy with you.”  

His fingers tickle your lower stomach and crawl beneath the cotton. You go rigid as he creeps up your soft flesh and you latch onto him as you try to stop him. He presses his lips to your crown. 

“Don’t be bad,” he warns in a gristle. 

You let him go with a babble. He brings his hand to cover one side of your chest. He squeezes and lets out a raspy groan. He rolls his hips and you feel he’s in need again. You close your eyes and brace yourself. It’s worse than the couch. You’ve laid yourself down in his trap. 

“You’re so soft, sweetie,” he fondles you, swirling his rough fingertips around your nipple, “so warm...” he inhales your scent and snarls, “you got me hurtin’ so bad.” 

[kissnbleed]

Dear writter who hold everyone's life please can I submit a request

Can you write a fic about Alicent where she kinda wants the reader all for herself, with some guilt since the reader is kinda younger.

I beg you, can you please 🙏 write something like this, Alicent deserve far more fics and needs to be saved from the men

a/n ofc you can! thank you for the req. I haven't written in a bit so I'm sort of rusty.

summary handmaiden!fem reader x semi canon hotd!alicent

warnings implied age gap (reader is in their twenties or so), oral a!receiving and fingering a!recieving. barely implied dom and sub dyanmics. 18+ mdni

Alicent did not have much in her life that truly belonged to her. She can not recall much of anything that she can say with certainty is for her, and her alone– purely, with no harshness to it, no underlying current of pain or tugging and pulling of her being. Nothing she had was hers, nor was it kind. I did not expect one.

Her children were not hers, not really. They had not been hers in a long time, not since they grew up in this court, since all of the pain impressed upon her had dripped down to them. Her husband had not been hers, though Alicent was unsure she wanted him to be. Rhaenyra was not hers, her religion, the sept, her chambers, her belongings. All of it was tainted, touched by the filth of this court. By the filth of her past, of her decisions. Nothing was clean, nothing was hers. 

Nothing, except for you.

In the late nights, when her staff was long asleep. When her night guards turned a cheek for a few heavy bags of coins, you existed. An angel of your own making, dipping into the darkness Alicent so believed herself to be. She was tainting you as she had all things, and yet you let her.

Her sweet handmaiden, her beloved girl. Below the flicking heat of the lights in her chamber, on top of her woven sheets and stitched blankets. There, you were hers. There, when the crickets sang outside, and her cheeks flushed from the breeze the windows brought in, something finally belonged only to her. Your touch, your soft voice, always dripping honey that Alicent so eagerly lapped up. 

“Your grace,” you often said– a small sigh of a tone, when her long fingers would swipe across your shoulders, when her guilty hands would dip below the sleeve of your dress, or lead you to sit on her bed. You were too good for this, for her. Alicent truly believed this, it hung low in her gut every time your feet found the ground of her chambers, each time you snuck to her– sought out the heat of her touch and words. And yet, she welcomed you each time. 

You had only begun working for Alicent under a year ago, with bright eyes that often refused to meet Alicent’s gaze. She couldn't blame you back then, she was sure the stories around the castle of her were no good. She surely deserves that as well. But still, even years younger than Alicent– much younger than her previous handmaidens, you had been kind to her. She doubted you had many jobs before this, she doubted you were even that many years over twenty name days, if she had to guess, and yet you held more grace than any woman her age.

Eventually, you had come out of your shell, asking soft questions about anything other than what the other girls may want, about the life of a queen. Often you asked, “Your grace, was your day well?” while your fingers worked through her wet curls during a bath. Or, while you worked the long strings of a dress you would ask more, “My queen, have you seen the sky today? It is beautiful.”

Alicent is unsure when the shift had begun when the shame that coated her throat had grown even thicker as she watched you smile at the other staff, and when she began calling upon you later and later into the day... With less and less other beings around. Alicent is not sure she wants to remember, if she does not– she will never need to add another rock to her heavy stomach. She likes it as it is, hazy and warm to remember. Somewhere along the lines, your touches had lingered, and her voice had grown gentler and more open with you. As the time under Alicent’s watchful eye continued, your ownheart had found itself beating quicker and quicker with every meeting, your stomach tightening with every gracious touch she offered you.

On a particular night, while the sun dipped below the clouds and covered all of Alicent’s bedchambers in the soft red color, you noticed how gorgeously it matched her auburn-colored locks. “Your hair is beautiful, Your Grace,” you had whispered, always using the title. A rough brush tugged at the strands, working through the knots and tangled, watching as the tight coils bounced back into place as they released from the bristles. “What was that, sweetling?” Alicent had asked, the very first time the pet name had fallen from her lips. Your breath had been so loud as it caught in your throat Alicent had heard it clearly, her heart squeezing in a way she had not felt in years. “Your hair is very lovely, my queen..” your voice had been so quiet then, barely above a whisper– your lips parting only the slightest bit to speak.

Alicent had kissed you that night, with her pouty lips and her nervous hands, hands that shook when they found your waist, when they pulled you in. Her soft lips, that tasted of the most addictive tea and sugar, had breathed apologies into your mouth for the very first time that night. You did not see the need for an apology then. 

You still did not now, all those sunrises and falls later, as your routine had fallen into place. You would leave your small, crowded quarters when the other fell asleep, in your simple white work dress, hair unperfected, and shoes loosely tied. You knew the turns to take and the tunnels to keep to that would avoid much of any notice. Which way would bring you to the Queen, your Queen, faster.

By now, Alicent nearly could promise when your visits would happen when your hand would tap nervously at the door like it always did. By now she could expect the low tug to her stomach it always brought, despite the guilt-heavy limbs that trembled when she opened the doors. She shouldn't, she told herself before every time she answered, and till every time– she did.

Every time, she would swallow heavily under her seven-star necklace, every time she greeted you how she does when the time is only for the two of you, when you are hers. 

“Hello, sweet girl.”

Every time, you answer. 

“Hello your grace– may I come in?”

She led you to her bed each time, she let your hands grasp needily at her waist, let your breaths mingle as your spit slick lips whined against hers, kisses open mouthed and heady, quick and searching. Each time it felt like the first, each time itsent the most delicious sense of shock through Alicent’s body. Warm and frightening, invigorating and dreadful. Alicent looked forward to nothing else. 

On a particular night, she had you on the bed, your flushed face between her legs as her mane of red hair and fair face tilted back, gasps and soft moans slipping from her lips. She shouldn't, she shouldn't have let you in. She shouldn't have let you between her legs. You were too young for this, too pure, too good. But you also felt much too amazing to refuse.

Your face pressed closer into her thighs, gasping against the puffy lips your nose nuzzles against, pressing into her clit as the fat muscle of your tongue swipes through her swollen folds. You were consumed, hips grinding into the small slice of bed you settled on, sounds vibrating against her dripping cunt. 

“Gods,” Alicent cried, the tips of her sharp nails for once digging into her blanket instead of the skin from her other cuticles. “Just like that, my dearest. Right there,” she praised, shoots of tiny zaps right into that sweet spot of your brain– almost as much pleasure as that building in her lower belly as you switched to suckle at her throbbing clit, earning a quick and sudden bucking upwards of her lips.

“So perfect,” Alicent’s word came out as a coo– a gentle and dragged out thing, dripping with the same honey your tone so constantly did, slick with the sweetness she licked off your lips whenever she could. “My perfect girl,” she added in a rushed gasp when the cord in her tummy tightened with a particularly swift lick across her pulsing hole as you licked at the sopping wetness dripping from her. 

Mine, she repeated over and over, muddled together and desperate– a question to herself and a melody to you, a promise. Where she was not sure, you were. When she was hesitant, you were eager. Eager for her, always. 

But she was too consumed in herself to even totally notice how empty you were of the guilt she harbored. Perhaps she carried enough for the both of you. 

You were hers in every sense of the word. Hers to serve, in the job given to you in the castle. Hers to serve in times like these, with tight thrusts of your nimble fingers or quick swipes of your tongue. You were hers to use and to find pleasure in, hers to speak to, to love, to hold. Hers, hers, hers. Forever hers. 

“Yours,” you affirmed in a squeal when her hand found your hair, the sharp tug stinging the nerves of your scalp in a sudden rush of heat. Only a moment later could you shove yourself back to where you most wanted to be, tongue trailing a dripping spot of slick that wet her thigh and to her ass. No way would you let a single drop of her go to waste, not when she tasted so sweet. 

“Tell me again,” Alicent begged, ignoring the twisting in her gut. She knew she was asking to hear a lie. A flimsy lie at that, one that she knew could never be real. She could never have you the way her late husband had her, the way Rhaenyra had her lovers. But at least for now, you were only for her. For now, you belonged to Alicent. 

“I am yours, your grace,” you murmured, face tilting up from its place pressed into her cunt to watch as Alicent’s chest rose and fell rapidly, licking over her dry lips. You thought she looked beautiful. The shiny sheen of her pleasure was wiped across your mouth and cheek, sticky and sweet as your tongue darted out to find it. She thought you looked beautiful.

“Again,” she begs, her nose scrunching as she rocks her hips through another sudden wave of pleasure, almost enough... But not quite.

Soon, your hand joined your tongue, one long finger pressing over her pulsing hole, dipping against it for just a moment, testing the limits, when Alicent moaned– you pushed the finger in fully, her walls clenching around the intrusion with a soft squelch. 

“Yours,” you repeat before your mouth finds her nub again, pressing small kitten licks to it accompanying your wrist as it rolls, working her open for a moment more before another finger stretches her out. 

By now you knew what she liked. You knew how to curl your fingers in a way that would have a squeal leaving your queen’s mouth, knew how hard to thrust, how fast the strokes of your wrist should be. You were utterly entranced by every reaction she gifted you– eyes glossy and glazed over with the rose-colored lens you always had and always will view her through. 

“Keep going, that’s perfect,” Alicent praised in a rushed tone, gnawing at her bottom lip, squeezing her eyes closed so she didn't need to look down at your face, surely it would only have Alicent even more worked up than she already was. For a multitude of reasons, she is too happy to avoid it. At least for now, when she's teetering so close to that edge she craved, so close she could taste it on her trembling lips as more continuous huffs and whines escape her. It’s no use hiding it now. 

“Please,” it was your turn to beg now, your hand desperately pushing into her again and again, your sticky face pulling away from her clit to look at how your fingers disappeared into her wanting cunt over and over again. It was like her coming was pleasure enough for you too, the way you sought it out. The way you begged for it.

“Please my queen,” the titles never left your lips– even when Alicent wishes they would. They reminded her again and again that this moment was fleeting, that you would never be lovers how you wished. It was another sick turn in her gut that had her remembering how much younger you were, and what position you were in. Sometimes, when she allows herself to think about it. It is hard to ignore the tug in her gut at the reminder, something other than guilt crawling its way up her stomach at the thought of how pure you had been before her. All of this, all of it had been because of her. No one else had you this way, and if she could ensure it– they never would. 

You would be Alicent’s forever, one way or another. 

“Cum for me,” your voice is much too sweet to be speaking such vulgarities, salt falling from a sugar pot, muddling confusingly together with your voice. It dizzied Alicent. “I need it,” you whine, wet kisses pressing to her lower belly as the space of your hand’s thrusts quickened, the slick sounds filling the space of her chambers. It’s almost unbearable for her to listen to. She is sure her sheets are soaked, and it has her heated cheeks even more red. 

She clenches around you again, a near vice grip as you're forced to slow your movements, her plush walls sucking your fingers in before she bursts, gushing around your fingers in a surge of sweet and sticky wetness. Your head dips down, licking at whatever you can.

“My queen,” you coo breathlessly, “My queen.”

“Yours,” it is she who replies this time. 

[rosemariiaa]

~The Diner~

pairing- Paige x Azzi

summary- (request) Based on the song “The Diner”, specifically the line, “Bet I could change your life. You could be my wife.”

warning: little angst, fluff (we love pazzi fluff)

Enjoy!!!

Paige first met Azzi when she was 15, and Azzi was 14, at a USA Basketball camp. They were both young, full of dreams, and eager to prove themselves on the court. From the moment Paige saw Azzi shoot her first three-pointer, she knew there was something different about her. It wasn’t just the way she played, though that was undeniable, it was just something else. A spark. A connection, you could say.

They became friends fast, the kind of friends who couldn’t go a day without texting or calling. They played together, trained together, and quickly became inseparable. Paige loved the way Azzi smiled shyly when she was nervous, and Azzi adored how Paige could make anyone in the room laugh, even when the pressure was on.

As the years passed, their friendship deepened. They played for the same teams, shared victories, and comforted each other in defeat. But there was always something unsaid between them, a tension neither was brave enough to address. It lingered in the late-night texts, the lingering touches, the way Paige’s heart raced whenever Azzi looked at her just a little too long.

It wasn’t until their flight back to Minnesota after a grueling tournament that things began to shift. They were both exhausted, but in that comfortable way you only get after spending days together, doing what you love. Paige was slouched in her seat, her head resting on the window, while Azzi was next to her, headphones in, lost in her music.

Paige nudged her gently, pulling one of Azzi’s headphones out. “What’re you listenin’ to?” she asked, her voice soft.

Azzi shrugged, showing her the screen. “Some Billie Eillish . It’s calming.”

Paige grinned. “Oh yeah? I like her too. She’s got this one song—'The Diner,' you know it?”

Azzi nodded, smiling. “Yeah, it’s a good one.”

Paige hesitated for a second, then said, almost playfully, “Bet I could change your life, you could be my wife.”

Azzi froze, her heart skipping a beat. The line hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Paige wasn’t looking at her, just staring out the window like she hadn’t just said something that made Azzi’s entire world tilt on its axis.

“Paige…” Azzi started, her voice trailing off. She wasn’t sure what to say. Paige had a way of throwing things out there, half-joking, half-serious, and it always left Azzi unsure of where she stood.

Paige finally turned to look at her, a crooked smile on her lips. “I’m kidding, Az. Don’t get all serious on me.”

But there was something in Paige’s eyes that said she wasn’t entirely kidding. Azzi could feel her cheeks heating up, and she quickly turned away, pretending to be interested in the movie playing on the screen in front of her. But the words echoed in her mind, over and over again, long after Paige had closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

The rest of the flight was quiet, the two of them lost in their own thoughts, the tension between them thicker than ever. Azzi tried to shake off the weird feeling in her chest, but it clung to her, making her question everything—every look, every touch, every word they’d ever shared.

As the years went on, they both found themselves at UConn, continuing to play side by side. The friendship remained strong, but the tension never really went away. They were both too scared to ruin what they had, to risk the friendship that meant so much to both of them.

But it wasn’t just the tension that grew—it was the feelings. The longing. The what-ifs that kept them both awake at night. Azzi couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Paige felt the same way she did.

It all came to a head during Azzi’s sophomore year, Paige’s junior year. They’d just finished a tough game against Iowa, one that had them both on edge, and were back in their apartment, sitting on the couch in that same comfortable silence they always shared.

Paige was scrolling through her phone, her thumb absentmindedly moving across the screen, while Azzi stared at her, trying to gather the courage to say what she’d been holding in for years.

Finally, Azzi couldn’t take it anymore. “Paige,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige looked up, eyebrows raised in question. “Yeah?”

Azzi took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “Do you remember that time on the plane? When you said… when you said you could change my life?”

Paige’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t say anything. She just nodded, waiting. Azzi swallowed hard. “Did you mean it?”

For a moment, Paige was silent, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she nodded again. “Yeah, Az. I did.”

Azzi’s heart was racing, and she could feel the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Paige sighed, setting her phone down and turning to face Azzi fully. “I didn’t want to mess things up. We’re… we’re best friends, Azzi. I didn’t want to risk that.”

Azzi nodded, understanding but still feeling the weight of those unsaid words between them. “I get it. But… Paige, I’ve been in love with you for so long. I just..I didn’t even know or believed that I could feel this way towards a girl.. but you changed that when I first saw you and I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat, and she reached out, taking Azzi’s hand in hers. “I’ve loved you too, Azzi. For so long. I just… didn’t know if you felt the same.” Azzi let out a shaky laugh, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Guess we’re both idiots, huh?”

Paige laughed too, her thumb brushing away Azzi’s tears. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

There was a pause, a moment of silence that stretched between them, before Paige spoke again, her voice soft and full of emotion. “You could be my wife, Azzi.”

Azzi’s heart skipped a beat, her breath hitching in her throat. “Paige…”

“I’m serious,” Paige said, her eyes searching Azzi’s for any sign of doubt. “I want to spend my life with you. I want us to be together, for real.”

Azzi’s smile was bright, her heart soaring. “I want that too, Paige. More than anything.”

And just like that, the tension that had been hanging over them for years dissolved, replaced by a warmth that spread through both of them, filling them with a happiness neither had ever felt before.

They kissed, slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that spoke of years of love and longing finally realized. When they pulled back, Paige rested her forehead against Azzi’s, a smile playing on her lips.

“Bet I could change your life,” Paige whispered, and this time, there was no doubt, no hesitation.

Azzi smiled back, her heart full. “You already have.”

[loveshotzz]

I hope I’m not late for request this🥹:

[inside one muses’s office] with AIRWIY!Steve? And reader give him his first blowjob?🥹

So this one got a little out of hand, but 🥺 I love him and he deserves the best head in the world if you ask me. Thank you for your request! 💕 I hope you like it!

older!steve x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ age gap, new established relationship, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, smidge of size kink, smidge of daddy kink, finger sucking, swallowing.

wc: 2.8k

A/N: This request is apart of my completed series All I Really Want Is You, but can be read as a stand alone. For those that read the series this takes place shortly after chapter ten.

It was supposed to be a nice lunch in his office on your day off. You weren’t supposed to be giving him elevator eyes from the other side of his desk while he complained to you about his day. But no one had warned you about what middle of the work day Steve looked like. Not quite as dishievied as the end of it when he’s checking his mail, but not put together like when you see him leave his house through your bedroom window when the sun is barely touching the sky. More importantly, you didn’t know about the glasses.

The thin silver frames sit perched on the end of his nose with hair that looks like he just started running his hands through it. The slicked back style it began the day in still sticks to some of his auburn locks while the rest develop a crazed mind of their own. He had popped open the top two buttons of his crisp white dress shirt, revealing a matching tank top underneath and the beginnings of the soft dark thatch of hair that covers his chest. His sleeves are rolled up to the middle of his forearms, and the tan he still has left over from the last few days of summer makes his skin look bronzed. The scruff that lines his jaw is thicker today than he’d usually allow too, but that’s because he’d forgotten his razor in your bathroom the last night he slept over. 

God, he was handsome. 

“Wrapping up at the end of a season, especially one where we didn’t make it to the finals has been nightmare, honey.” He rubs his eyes from under his glasses leaning back in his seat. 

He was stressed too.

The leather squeaks with his movements, and your gaze finds its way to his newly revealed waist. His black dress slacks are pulled tight over his thighs, and the silver buckle of his belt gleams when it hits the sun spilling in from his office windows. 

“Just one more week till your vacation,” you remind him gently, your fingers playing with the hem of the sundress and you catch the way his eyes track your movements, wetting his lips.

“One more week till I get to have you all for myself.” He counters, making you giddy at the thought of your first trip together to New York, “enough about my day though. Let me get a better look at this pretty dress you’re wearin’, is it new?” 

There’s heat flickering behind his gaze when he gestures for you to stand in front of him, something a little mischievous in his grin that makes your skin buzz.

“Yeah, I got it at Lost Girls after work the other day. I’d been looking at it for a while through the window, thought I’d do something nice for myself.” Your nerves make you ramble as you get up, but Steve thinks it’s cute. He thinks everything you do is cute.

“It’s really, really nice baby,” he praises when you get in front of him letting his eyes roam all the ways it hugs your curves just right, like it was made custom for your body and his slacks get a little tighter. “You look so beautiful, give me a little twirl.”

Your face burns like it’s the middle of June at his request, and the golden emerald of his eyes get darker from behind his lenses. The air around you both turns electric when your already short hem flutters out around the tops of your thighs, spinning around twice for him, just enough to give a glimpse of the red lace that hugs your ass cheeks underneath. 

“You gonna be wearing this tonight when I pick you up for dinner?” He asks with big hands reaching out for you, begging you to get closer.

“I didn’t know we had plans tonight.” You giggle letting your wedges carry you to the space he made for you between his legs. The cedar and spice of his cologne envelopes your senses when you get close enough for his hands to find the back of your thighs pulling you to him with a squeal.

The whites of his teeth show when he looks up at you with a smile that steals your breath away, squeezing at the soft dough under his palms.

“What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t show you off any chance I got?” The pads of his thumbs swipe against the hem of the lace that meets at the curve of your ass, butterflies in your stomach because you’ll never get used to hearing him say that.

“Yeah, I’ll wear it, handsome.” You agree, making him hum in approval. 

He lets you run your fingers through the soft silk of his hair, silver strands showing themselves to you in a mess of dirty blonde and auburn as you scratch along his scalp. Steve groans at the feeling and it goes straight to your core, his long fingers tightening around the plush of your thighs, leaning his forehead against the soft pudge of your tummy with his eyes closed.

“Fuck,” He mumbles against you, the wheels on his chair roll him closer as his hands grip higher, warm palms finding the dough of your buttcheeks when you scratch at the nape of his neck. 

You watch the way his shoulders slump, the muscles in his body finally starting to unwind from your touch. You want to unwind him more.

“Steve?” His name comes out in just above a whisper, your nerves threatening to get the best of you. 

“Hmm?” He hums in response, too lost in the feeling of your nails dragging over his scalp.

“Let me take care of you.” Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you tug a little at his roots asking him to meet your gaze. 

“Honey,” It doesn’t sound like a protest, and it doesn’t feel like it either when his nails dig half crescent moons into the backs of your thighs, staring up at you with wide eyes.

You remember the empty hallways on your way up. Everyone was gone for the season, including Richard.

“You’ve been working so hard, you deserve it.” You cup the side of his face, your body buzzing when he leans into your touch. “Will you let me?”

“I - “ Wetting his lips, Steve glances at the door before bringing his attention back to you, “yeah, okay, shit, yeah.”

You hold his heavy lidded gaze with a confidence he’s never seen before as you drop to your knees, the nails that were just in his hair dragging along his thighs and it sends him reeling. He doesn’t know how long you’ve thought about this.

The carpet is rough on your freshly lotioned skin, the bottom hem of your dress pulling up over the tops of your thighs. Leaning back in his chair, the new angle gives him the perfect view down the deep heart shaped neckline of your dress. The necklace he got you on your first date shimmers just above the swell of your breasts and it makes his cock press into the metal of his zipper. He wishes he could take a picture of you right now.

“You want this baby?” His voice comes out gruff when he asks, the gold inside his eyes darkening to something almost black as he runs a hand through his hair.

“You have no idea, just how bad I want it … daddy.” Looking up at him through thick lashes, you punch the air out of his lungs in a low exhale through his nose when you don’t hesitate to start working at the silver of his belt buckle.

“Fuck, you can’t say - ” He huffs out exasperated, contemplating taking a half day so he can spend the rest of it in bed with you. 

Leather squeaks underneath him when he lifts his hips to help you tug his pants down. The hard outline of him strains against his briefs, mouth watering when you notice the darkened spot where he’s already leaking into the black cotton. More confident now, your palms find purchase on the tops of his hairy thighs, leaning forward you let heat of your breath make him twitch, earning a low groan when your lips trail like a ghost behind it.

“Can’t say what?” Your tone drips innocence, your bottom lip tugging down against the covered head of his cock before lifting your gaze with a mischievous smirk, relishing in the sharp inhale he takes through his teeth. 

“I think you’re gonna kill me.” He almost laughs, running a hand over his face. Pushing up his glasses in the process he settles his heavy gaze on you with a lazy grin as they slide down the slope of his nose.

You hum, glossed lips twisting at the corners as you hook your fingers in the elastic of his briefs, giving them a gentle pull to signal what you want. Steve gives it to you without any hesitation, the full weight of his cock slapping against his stomach making your thighs press at the thought of being stretched by it. The pink tip swipes against the hem of his button up that sits rucked up at his belly button and you don’t think you’ll ever be immune to just how big and pretty he is.

“That wouldn’t be very nice of me huh?” you tease looking up at him with a pout.

“Nuh-uh” He mumbles, face crumpling a little watching your fingers try to wrap around the base of him, the tips of them just barely meeting on the other side. The grip he has on the armrest of his chair, stretches his skin so tight the whites of his knuckles start to show.

“And, I wanna be nice,” he feels like velvet in your hand, the pad of your thumb tracing the large vein that runs up the side, before swiping over his sensitive head. You collect what he’s already given to you with enough pressure to make his toes curl inside his wingtip dress shoes.  

Leaning forward, you slowly let your tongue run the length of him, feeling the way he twitches against the muscle before paying extra attention to what’s weeping for you, swirling your tongue around the tip. Salty and little sweet from the way he drinks his coffee in the morning, you hum pleased when he hits your taste buds. 

“God, honey.”

You don’t give him any warning when you wrap your lips around him, a greedy tongue flattening along the underside. Gagging when he hits the back of your throat, you still try to open up just a little more, your hand keeping up with what you can’t reach.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve’s jaw goes slack, eyelids growing too heavy to keep open at the heat of your mouth enveloping him. His head pushes further into his chair while he fights to keep his hands from flying to the back of yours.

Scooting closer, you feel him spread his legs even more, and your hand that’s not wrapped around the base of his cock, slides down his thigh. The blunt ends of your nails dragging through the rough curls that cover it.

“That’s - that’s so - shit, you’re making me feel so fucking good.” He grunts, finally working up enough strength to pry his eyes open to get a look at what he’s dreamed of a million times alone in the shower. “Always so good to me baby.”

You moan at his words, the praise drowning out the dull throb in your knees from the hard floor, and your throat opens up just a little more, the tip of your nose a ghost against his thick happy trail.

“You like that?” The tone he uses is deep, like someone laced the honey it’s always had for you with cinnamon. “You like when I tell you how good you are?”

Hollowing out your cheeks, you suck even harder, the wetness between your legs only getting worse when he lets out a strangled groan. You slowly work up the length of his cock with tight lips, before releasing him with a loud ‘pop’. For a second Steve thinks he might add more to the shining mess that covers your face, spit still connecting your chin to his sensitive head. 

You drag your teeth over your swollen bottom lip, his dark eyes tracking the movement when it pops back into place, twitching in your hand that hasn’t stopped pumping him. He thinks he likes this better than your gloss. You nod in response with a smile and he can’t believe is a little shy. 

Leaning forward, he wipes your chin with his thumb before tracing where your teeth just were with the pad of it. His eyes darken even more when your mouth opens, strawberry lips wrapping around him with no hesitation.

Yeah, you’re going to kill him. 

“Fuck, look at you,” He pushes down on your tongue, watching the way your thighs press under your dress sucking on the digit with the same force. “I’m so lucky.”

You moan around him, the motions of your wrist getting faster, and the urge to taste him becomes unbearable. With a gentle scrap of your teeth you let go of his thumb, pushing up on your knees to beg for a kiss. The wheels of his chair clink against the hinges when he eagerly accepts your request, one of his hands finding the back of your neck pulling you closer to lick into your mouth without a second thought. 

Your teeth scrape together, tongues battling for dominance while the stubble that lines his jaw threatens to rub your skin raw, but you don’t care. The inside of your thighs start to get sticky and the large vein that runs up the side of his cock pulses against your palm with the need for your attention. It’s the only thing that can get you to pull away from his lips that won’t stop devouring yours.  

It’s with new determination that you take him back into the heat of his mouth, doing your best to take him deeper down your throat than before. He moans your name loud enough that you’re sure anyone in this part of the building would hear if they were actually in their offices. He lets a big hand find the back of your head this time, while both of yours find the tops of his thighs. 

Your cheeks hollow again while your tongue wraps around as much as you can get, more spit, more slick to bob in rhythm with the thrusts of his hips. The tip of him catches at the back of your throat, and the way it squeezes his head when your reflex hits makes his toes curl, fingers burying themselves in your hair to keep you there.

“Oh, that’s - that’s it- take the whole thing. Shit. You’re gonna make me cum baby. Just like that, don’t stop, don’t stop. Good girl, good girl.” 

Each snap of his hips gets as desperate as his babbling, like he’s completely forgotten he’s still at work. One of your hands leaves his thigh to cup his balls that have been screaming for attention since the moment you walked into his office in that dress. Rolling them in your palm is the final touch that makes his vision go white behind his eyes, body tensing and face going slack just like his jaw. 

“Baby, baby, baby.”

Twitching, he spills hot down the back of your throat and you try to swallow as much of it as you can before it dribbles down your chin, dripping onto your chest. His full weight falls back onto his chair, the wheels it’s on moving just enough to have him slide half soft from the warm velvet of your mouth. He tasted even better than you’d imagined, promising yourself you were going to do this again to him after dinner. 

Chest heaving, a breathy laugh escapes him, and the hand that was buried in your hair runs through his before his eyes open up back to their normal golden brown. His cheeks flush pink when he gets a look at the mess he made of you, and it only deepens when you collect the spend that found its way to the swell of your breasts with the pads of your fingers before sucking them clean.

“I think I’m gonna take a half day.”

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.6 K Warnings: None Prompt: Time to wrap it all up, and perhaps receive one or two surprises. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 42: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Wednesday, December 23rd

The art store was small, but filled with colours all around. Small little black cabinets with golden numbers on top behind the counter, and walls lined with different paint pots and colours, a wall with wooden frames and delicately separated boxes that held paint brushes of all different sizes and shapes and, by the bits you’d read, also materials. 

At the top of the cabinets there was a small display of colourful markers and pens and other things that you knew muggles used but you weren’t too familiar with. Apparently, they used stick glue instead of sticking spells to adhere stuff. You wondered how much of this stuff Sirius actually knew about and vowed to bring him to this place with you one day. 

And while you did appreciate art, thoroughly – you’d gone to multiple museums, both muggle and wizarding through your trips – you had no idea what the difference was between gouache and acrylic, or why the “Rembrandt” that claimed to be made out of oil, where much more expensive than the “Winsor & Newton” ones that claimed the same. It had to be because of the quality, right? 

“Good evening, may I help you?” a young man, probably in his late twenties asked as he approached you. He was dressed in rather formal clothes and had a pair of thin-rimmed golden glasses. You would have probably considered him attractive if you hadn’t been accustomed to Sirius’ dashing looks or Remus’ lovely smile. You really were lucky to be surrounded by handsome and pretty humans, you thought, thinking of the rest of your friends. 

You must have looked as lost as a Bowtruckle in the middle of New York since he looked like he would try to be overly polite. 

“I’m looking for a gift, my boyfriend loves to draw, but I’m… not really good with all the supplies and stuff, I was thinking perhaps a nice set of pencils and a sketchbook. I’ve been looking through the paints as well, but I don’t think he’s the kind to do the whole canvas thing, at least not while we’re in school.” 

“Well, does he colour his drawings?” 

You thought about it for a moment, what he’d shown you were mostly sketches done in pencil, though there were some with an underlayer of red and or blue. “I think he uses some for the base of the drawings.” 

“Does he overline them?” The expression you gave him when he asked made him clarify it. “After the pencil sketch is done, does he add a pen or marker to finish up the details?” 

Sirius did not do that, but you also thought how complicated it would be to do such a thing with a quill instead of the pens and trinkets the muggles had invented so you nodded in response. “Yeah… not that often but I’m sure he’d like something to be able to do it.” 

“All right, follow me,” he said as he motioned to one of the furthest walls. “This is where we keep all of our sketchbooks, the thicker the grammage the stronger pens and markers it will hold. Also, some can even hold watercolour, not sure if he’s into that too.” 

“Do you have like – a book on the basics of watercoloring? I feel like he might actually be interested in that.” 

“We do,” he said with a nod and moved to the other side of the store bringing you a few options. You picked one of them and then looked through the sketchbooks. There were different sizes and colours and the pages felt really different on most of them. Some were especially made for watercolours and some were for drawing. You took one with about 100 pages for watercolour and one with the same amount of pages but with a bit less grammage for sketches. 

They both had a black cover with golden elegant trims that you thought would definitely go with Sirius’ look, although one opened from the side, making it more of a panoramic view while the other one stayed horizontal. You handed them in to the guy and he took them to the counter as you continued looking around. You leaned into the watercolour section and started to look at all the different options available. 

“If this is the first time he’ll do watercolour, may I recommend you buy a set?” he asked politely as he showed you a small wooden case, when he opened it there were all sorts of small blocks with different colours on them. “These are my favourite brand, but really gentle with beginners, they also come with this interesting thing,” he added as he handed you a small brush with a clear section at the top. “It comes with water, you don’t have to dip your brush that often, really useful once you get the hang of it.” 

“You have more of those?” you asked and he nodded, showing you the different sizes of brush ends. After a while, and with a lot of his help, you ended up selecting about 5 different brushes and the colours that you’d fill the small wooden box with as well, which you thought was fantastic since you could fill it up with whatever colours you chose and not a set palette. 

“You’ll also take the marker set, the watercolour book and the sketchbooks, correct? Anything else?” 

“Uhh… Am I missing anything that he might need?

“Does he draw portraits or landscapes?” 

You thought back of the Remus drawing he’d shown you, and then of the one you had chosen not to see. “He draws portraits and anatomy studies. Though I’m sure I’ve seen him doodle other stuff too.” 

“He might like this book then,” he told you as he handed over another book. It was about proportions and hand drawing and a lot of very advanced-looking stuff, you smiled. 

“This one as well, please…” he was about to finish the bill when you stopped him, looking down through the glass display and pointing towards something, “Is that a penknife?” 

“Well, yes,” he replied, “Although sharpeners are used more often nowadays, some people still prefer them.” 

“I’d like one of those as well,” you added with a smile. 

“Excellent.” The man gave you your total and then handed every single thing in a thick paper bag. “You said it was for a gift, right?” 

“Yes,” you nodded and he walked to the back of the shop, pulling a very elegant and sturdy black box, he eyed the bag as if calculating if everything would fit and then handed it over to you along with a black and gold ribbon with the name of the store repeated over and over. 

As he handed it over he pulled it back for a second and gave you a smile. “That young gentleman is very lucky to have you as a girlfriend.” 

“I think I’m just as lucky as he is,” you responded with a small smirk as you took the box. 

“Would you like me to call you a cab?” 

You thought about it for a second. Your house wasn’t that far, and with a short levitating spell you wouldn’t have to carry much stuff either, but the Knight Bus did mention they’d be very busy and you had been walking all day. “Yes, thank you.”

The man called for one and you waited inside the store until the cabbie arrived. You gave him your address and he took you straight there. You took the lift of your building, using your wand to unlock the secret –magical- floor your parents had purchased in London and waited. 

When the two, golden doors of the lift opened to your drawing room, you sighed. Leaning down to take off your shoes. “Mom? Dad?” 

No answer. “What time is it?” you whispered to yourself as you looked at the clock, quarter past ten? That art store surely has late closing times, you thought as you leaned back down to pull your bags up and drag them to your room. 

There was a note on the table along with what looked like a delightfully looking salad and steak. 

We’ll be home late, serve yourself. See you tomorrow darling.

You sighed and after placing the bags on the table, and using a warming spell on the food, you ate. Once you were done, the plate disappeared from the table and instead, a chocolate cake showed up. You smiled, at least they knew you liked sweets. You took a few bites from that and took it, along with your gifts, to your room. 

That’s when you remembered you had promised to tell your friends when you arrived here so you quickly scribbled a few notes. Sending your owl –Resse– back to the Potter’s and Barnaby –the family’s owl– to Beth. Then you took some Floo powder and leaned over the fire. 

“Tom?” You asked as you peeked through his chimney. 

“Sly sprite?” He asked as he leaned over. “I was starting to worry,” he said as he left a book on the side. “You got home, all right?” 

“Yeah!” you said with a smile. “And I got a bunch of good stuff at the store too, it was worth it.” 

“It better have been! Beth is home too, we stopped by hers first.” 

You chatted with Tom for a little while more and ended the call when you started to yawn and he followed right after. With that, you went for a quick and warm shower and then back to bed. 

Thursday, December 24th

There was a soft knock on the door, you stirred on your bed but didn’t wake and then there was another one. “Sweetheart? Breakfast’s ready, come eat.” 

“On my way,” you said as you sat on your bed and rubbed your eyes a couple of times. The day was bright, you’d forgotten to shut your windows at night and now you had the perfect view of the Thames through your window. You thought back to Hogwarts and how all the splendour of it had been made by magic, while the splendour of London had mostly been made by muggles. 

The high skyscrapers, the Ferris Wheel across the river, the towers, palaces and bridges, all muggle-made, and without magic, it was fascinating. You didn’t understand why wizards had so many prejudices against them –aside from the whole burning on steak part, muggles seemed to be quite incredible and determined people.  Perhaps you should have taken that muggle studies optative. 

“Sweetheart?” you heard your father’s voice, a bit more stern than your mother’s. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you said as you shook your covers off and grabbed your wand from the nightstand. “As if they hadn’t been home hours after I got here,” you mumbled as you fished for a pair of slippers under your bed. 

By the time you got out of your room both your mom and dad were sitting on the living room table. Your mom was wearing a beautiful cocktail dress while your dad had a perfectly fitting black suit on with a small cape, draped elegantly behind his chair. You were still wearing a band shirt you had stolen from Sirius a while ago, and that you had been wearing under Remus’ jumper before the trip. “Lovely to see you,” you said with an awkward smile, “it’s been a while.” 

Your father looked up from his newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hand only for a second, nodded and then went back to read. Your mom gave you a sympathetic look and nodded for you to sit down. After a couple of minutes, your dad bent the newspaper and placed it on the side of the table.  

“We’ve heard plenty of your Hogwarts Adventures,” your father said looking at you. “You’ve been doing a masterful job at maintaining our house’s name relevant.”  

You frowned at that, that had never been your intention. 

“You were incredible in the broom race though you lost,” your father said. “And you’ve won two quidditch matches–” 

“That was a team effort…” you said, your voice growing smaller as his hand dismissed you. 

“You’ve kept your grades high and you’ve even entered the duelling club…”

“Not to mention her Theoretical Magic grades,” your mom added with a smile. 

“And you’re dating one of the Black kids.” 

You swallowed. You had mentioned in your letters that you and Sirius had gotten along now that you were in the same house, but you hadn’t specifically mentioned you were dating him.

“The disowned Black kid,” your father continued. 

You straightened a little, you had discussed with your dad the things that happened back in your vacations with the Blacks. It hadn’t been particularly nice talk, but you weren’t going to back down, his political means could not be worth more than his morals. And things had been rather tense between the two since then.

When two people had such intense ideological differences and desires, they were bound to clash against each other, especially when those ideologies juxtaposed against the other often, being only furthered by the fact that you were –at least on breaks– living under the same roof. 

Your priorities had been wildly different and you weren’t shy about letting him know, which caused your relationship to deteriorate quickly. Not to say you –or him– had been particularly rude to each other, but you were much colder. It was almost Christmas, and you didn’t want to start a fight with him, let alone over something that you were most definitely not going to yield on. 

“I think it’s all right. He might have been disowned by his family but he still stays in contact with some of the other Blacks like Alphard and the other disowned child… whatever her name is…” Andromeda, you thought as you tried to process the fact that he had just said it was fine. “Just try to avoid mentioning him in tomorrow’s dinner. I’m sure Walburga wouldn’t be particularly pleased.” 

“Tomorrow’s dinn– Walburga will be coming?” 

“Of course not, they have invited us to their Christmas dinner,” he said. “It’ll be hosted in Rosier Manor, I believe.” 

“Whose manor?” You asked, your breath going short along with your question. 

“Mr. Rosier,” your mom repeated. “All important wizards will be there.” 

“I’d rather skip Christmas altogether.” 

“I’m sorry, darling. This isn’t a matter of preferences. You will go and then we’ll let you do whatever you please for the rest of the break. Visit muggle London as much as you want or dally with your friends, I really don’t care as long as you maintain your composure during tomorrow’s dinner.”

Your leg was bouncing slightly under the table. “I don’t believe I will be welcomed in that house.” 

“You will be welcomed because you are my daughter and I’m me,” he said with an air of finality. “We need to present a strong family front, play your part and you’ll be rewarded.” 

“Right, my part,” you said bitterly. You wondered if your mother was playing her part too, they were in love, that wasn’t questionable, but sometimes it felt like she became nothing more than an addition to his recollection of what a perfect life should look like. Did he marry her because of the love he felt for her or because she’d look like a delightful trophy wife by his side on political dinners? Had she not been as beautiful as she was, had she not been well educated, would he have married her either way? 

You wondered, when had Silas become the man he is now? When did his greed for power become so intense he would sacrifice his morals to achieve it? When you were smaller, you thought they loved each other, even now, you saw when they looked at each other with those adoring eyes, but… there was a tale of sacrifice weaved in between their story, and with one party constantly bending to the other’s wishes, you weren’t sure you could still call it love. 

When devotion became toxic, was it still something that came from love, or had it become something else altogether? 

“Indeed darling, we ask for nothing more than one night. Then you will not be bothered, free to go wherever you want and with whomever you please. Does that sound like a fair deal?” 

You sighed and nodded, “One dinner.”

Your mother smiled at that, letting out a nervous breath and then reached for your hand. “Your clothes for tomorrow are already in your closet, I also got you some nice potions and make-up.” 

“Thanks, Mum,” you said with a short smile and looked at your food. It looked delicious, it was French toast with berries and fruit on top –probably there to appeal to your sweet tooth and convince you to go– but you didn’t feel hungry at all. Especially not at the thought of having to go to Rosier Manor. As if you didn’t see enough of Evan at school, now you had to go see him on the break as well, bIoody brilliant. “Breakfast was great,” you said as you stood up. Both of them decided to ignore your almost intact plate, “I’ll be in my room in case you need anything else, you know like me playing the role of the perfect child of the politician if your friends come around or whatever.”

Your mom gave you a reproachful look while your dad gave you an impassive one, you raised your eyebrows at the two of them, almost tauntingly before you turned around, walking back to your room and letting the door close behind you gently –it was not the inanimate objects fault that your parents were acting like pricks. 

You sat on your bed and took a deep breath before you saw a small owl by one of your windows, you let him in and took the rolled parchment from his feet before feeding him some water. 

Dear Vix, Hope this letter finds you all right, Sirius was moaning about you going along Beth and Tom and not inviting him to buy Christmas stuff it was draining! Now I was not going to write to you about it because he said he would punch me in the face but I had to write anyway since mum and dad wanted you to have our address so you could come here through floo anytime.  Hope you’re having a great time, Sirius and I went flying with Pete today (he lives a few houses from us, did we tell you?), and while it was nice not having to worry about Sirius distracting himself from snogging you, we missed you still.  Mum and Dad send greetings to your parents, hope you’re also having a blast.  Your bestest friend, James P.  PS. Mum sent this tea for you, she said she thinks you’d like it with how much sweet stuff you eat and stuff.  PS 2. Love you, but I bet you’re missing me more <– That was Sirius. 

James’ stupid letter made you chuckle, especially the last bit, as if it had been necessary to point out that Sirius had been the one to write it. You placed the letter into a small box in your bag and smiled as you walked to pick up some of the stuff you’d be giving your friends as their gifts.  

You picked up some wrapping paper and started wrapping all of their gifts, the owls would have to do a couple of trips to take them all to their place, but you’d make sure to leave them plenty of food throughout the night, so they could continue their trips and the presents would be at your friend’s beds in the morning. 

You had gone through most of the smaller gifts first, writing small, and neatly written Christmas cards on them. Then you went for the bigger ones, the books you’d gotten for Lily, some of the stuff for Mary and Marlene, James’ pack, and of course, Remus and Sirius’. 

It wasn’t until then, that you realised how overboard you had gone with your gifts. You’d gotten Remus so many books, both magical and muggle, that you almost felt guilty you hadn’t gotten Lily and James more stuff. And then you tried telling yourself it was because Remus would spend Christmas alone and he deserved at least a bit of happiness, you weren’t deliberately playing favourites. 

And then Sirius’ pile was clearly a mess, you had all the music you’d gotten, the shirts, the penknife that you wanted to engrave with his name (you were researching for the right spell to do it) and a bunch of other stuff for him. Besides, you still wanted to make the playlists, so before you finished packing the bigger boxes, you started testing the recorder. Now there wasn’t exactly a step by step guide on how to record music, but there was a small booklet that showed you how the thing worked and you spend the rest of the day figuring it out, listening to music and making a playlist for each of your friends. Using all the songs you thought they might like.

When you were done with that, you continued packing all the stuff. Deciding to send all the music back to the boys’ room at Hogwarts so they could leave it on Sirius’ stash. Well, all of them except for the David Bowie tape you had specifically gotten for Sirius and that would look great with his shirt and the rest of the gifts you’d gotten him. 

You went out to get some food at some point during the day, and there was another note from your parents telling you they were off at an event. Well, good riddance, you thought as you went back to your room with a sandwich in your hands. You picked one of the books you’d gotten for yourself and you spent almost the rest of the day reading it while jamming to one of the playlists you’d made. A copy of the one you’d made for Remus since you thought it went well with the book you’d chosen to read. 

You fell asleep before your parents got home, with the book still in your hands and the music playing softly in the background until the cassette ran out of tape and was softly ejected by the machine. The sound it made had been so soft it didn’t wake you at all. 

Thankfully, you had remembered to leave enough water and food for the owls, since they had spent all night doing trips back and forth to your house and your friends’. 

Friday, December 25th

You woke up by being pecked in the face by a very big and very angry owl. 

“Oi!” you complained. “What’s wrong with you?” The owl chirped and picked you again, this time on the ear. “Bitch,” you mumbled as you pushed him back lightly, only for him to pick you in the finger again. 

You gave him an upset look and he pulled back just a little, tilting his head towards the window, and the lack of food and refreshments. 

“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been attacking me non-stop?” you asked as you stood up from the bed, failing to see the pile of wrapped gifts at the end of it. The owl chirped in response, a scowl that you weren’t sure was his natural face shape or an actual scowl directed towards you. “I’m sorry,” you added, “Barnaby and Reese must have eaten them all. They did many trips last night, you know?” 

The owl chirped again, a little angry as he flew towards the window, as if saying «I too flew many trips last night» looking as indignant as a Towny Owl could. You added a few of the special snacks you kept for Reese just to keep him from biting you again. You looked at the name tag and realised who the owner of the owl had been. 

Eun-ji, Minho had told you about her, she was his family’s owl and apparently, the name meant something like “kind”. So much for a kind owl, you thought as you looked at her, gobbling up Reese’s treats. You leaned over when you noticed there was a small letter attached to his feet and took it in your hands before the owl flapped his wings and left. 

Merry Christmas Star Seeker,  Hope you’re having a great time. Thought of giving you a special thanks for that one time you –quite literally– pushed me towards my crush and got us to start a conversation, that, well, you know how great it ended!  Even for a Gryffindor, you’re really nice, so I thought of getting you something for you to get some more hate from your fellow Gryffindor, Eun-ji must have left the gift near your bed.

You turned to the side in the middle of reading and stood agape, there was not only a green and silver wrapped gift in what looked suspiciously like the shape of a snake, but there were also a bunch of other gifts wrapped in all sorts of colours. 

Anyway thanks for everything, hope you have fun and all. I’m looking forward to beating you all next time we play,   Love,  The one and only, and your favourite Slytherin, Minho Cha. 

You rolled your eyes at the last bit, it had been very Slytherin of him, but since you knew Minho, you also knew he was playing it off as a joke on his own house, which made a joke inside a joke and you thought it was actually kind of funny. 

You took a deep breath and walked over to your bed. There were all sorts of gifts prompted there and you decided to unwrap Minho’s first. There was a small, green snake plushie with a bow on it that had a small pendant with something written on it:  “From the snakes that love you dearly,” and then it had the names of all of your Slytherin friends: Minho, Comet, Nox, Reggie, and even some you weren’t expecting like Dorcas and Solacis. You thought it was an adorable little thing, even if –and you were certain of this– your friends would absolutely hate it. Well, not Lily, she’d also think it was adorable. 

And thinking of her, was that you picked the next gift, wrapped in pink and yellow paper, and with her a small dedicatory on the corner, you instantly knew it was from her, her neat and perfect handwriting being the dеad giveaway. You smile as you read her small dedication. She wished you a very, merry Christmas and promised to tell you everything about the train with James as soon as you saw each other in person. She wrote something along the lines of not being able to put it on paper, which made you laugh. 

When you opened the present you were thrilled, it was a small leather notebook, dark red with golden trims and your name on the cover. Not Vixen, not Starshine, or any of the other nicknames that you had come to own and love since you arrived at Hogwarts, but your name. You smiled as you traced your fingers over the letters. There was a pen on the side, golden and apparently of some interesting muggle technology that wasn’t that popular in the wizarding world. You thought it was fascinating. When you opened the notebook you realised there was something written, again in her handwriting. 

You’ve had more adventures this year than I’ve had in my lifetime. I think it’s time for you to start writing down some of them, in case you ever want to revisit them. If journaling is not your thing (which I feel like it would be because I know you), you can just use this notebook however you want. You know grocery lists, songs for mixtapes, your favourite lyrics, poems, quotes, Sirius’ doodles, your doodles,  dried flowers, stickers, whatever you want, it’s your space, and you may use it as you wish! Love, Lily

You thought the idea of having your own journal was brilliant, you always admired her for keeping hers so incredibly neat looking, and perhaps being able to let some of your feelings go on a blank page would be better than keeping them bottled up. You doubted you would be nearly as consistent as her, but you decided to add your first couple of words in there, detailing the gifts you’d gotten and the few you still had yet to open. 

You’d gotten a box of your favourite candies from Mary and some incredible quidditch trading cards from Marlene, but she had also added some makeup to her gift because if not you and James would have gotten the exact same thing and you were her favourite between the two. You got a spellbook and a muggle prank book from Tom “to further your career” according to him. There was a large, embossed book from Nina, which you discovered was an annotated version of one of your favourite books and a small set of runes from Sybil. You had gotten her a deck of cards and a book about premonitions. 

There were candies from Nox and a muggle book lantern from Neil Perry, you had both complained at some point about reading with your wand and you thought the solution he’d found was adorable. Peter had gotten you a book about canines, packed along with a small fox-themed bookmarker and a note that said “Thank you for not busting my make-out session and Merry Christmas.” He also added, “PS. maybe with this one you’ll be able to tame Pads.” Which had you wheezing with laughter for a while. 

It took at least a minute to go for the next gift, it was a small box that said to be handled carefully. You opened it according to the instructions. “Shut the fuck up!” you said the moment you realized what was inside. A small Felix Felicis vial. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” you repeated over and over again. “How did he even get his hands on it?” 

You picked up the paper from behind it, there was a small note. 

Okay say it: aside from Sirius, I AM your favourite Marauder.  You might be wondering, “How the hell did James get his hands on this?”. Well dear, I must say, I have contacts.  AKA my parents are expert potioneers and I somehow convinced Mum to brew one and that’s how I got my hands on it.  Now, I could have given it to any of my friends but I get the feeling you might be needing some of this soon enough. You know, from things I’ve seen and such (please don’t waste it on a quidditch match, though). Anyway, I know you’ll use it well, hope you have a very Merry Christmas!  Your favourite marauder AND bestest friend,  Prongs. 

You chuckled when you finished reading and went back to look at the vial with incredulity. Brewing one of these potions was arduous work, and it took weeks, which meant James must have had convinced Effie to do it even before she’d met you. Never underestimate James Potter, you thought as you grabbed onto the vial and placed it around your neck with a chain, casting a disillusionment charm on it so it wouldn’t be so obvious you had it with you. You thought the gift was brilliant. 

After that, there were only 2 gifts left. You picked the one with a silver bow first. It was a square box, about 12” wide, and had been wrapped in the same paper as James’, which made you guess who it might be from. There were chocolates and a small letter on top, neatly closed and with your name written on the back with Sirius’ almost perfect calligraphy. There was also a paper covering something, but you picked the letter up first. 

You know, I tried writing a love letter, but James wouldn’t stop making ridiculous comments about it not being profound enough and I feared I’d end up writing something close to the painfully ridiculous letters he used to write to Lily so I had to stop myself.  Who would have thought it would be that hard to put thoughts into words? I suppose if I were like Remus it would come out much easier but, unfortunately, you’re stuck with me. Actually no, fortunately you’re stuck with me, I’m delightful.

You laughed, he’s not wrong. 

Anyway, I suppose what I wanted to express in those dreadful attempts of being a poet was that I’m incredibly thankful that you came to Hogwarts and that you came back to me. I’m grateful that you tolerate me and my moods and that you love me for who I am, flaws and all. I wasn’t sure I’d ever found that kind of love, one that I even doubted it existed, and yet you’re always there to tease and make me laugh and– I already sound like James, but you know what I mean. You always know what I mean.  As you see, I am far from a poet, but there is something I like to do and I thought that perhaps, you’d enjoy it more than this terrible love letter.  You know, you and Remus were the first to ever see a sketch from my book, and I was feeling all sorts of things after I offered, and yet, you were there, reassuring me and telling me I didn’t have to do it if I didn’t want to. You know Walburga, it wasn’t much of a choice for me, so it truly meant the world, and fed me the courage I needed to let you see that part of me. And when you two finally saw it and praised me for my skills, for what I did with my own hands… You make me so incredibly gleeful, it’s almost scary how much power you could hold over me. But frankly, I’ll let you hold it all you want.  All right, enough of the sappy stuff, Merry Christmas Starshine, you know you shine brighter than my own star. Hope you like your gift.  Love,  Sirius 

See the letter here

You read the letter a few more times, smiling at the little details and jokes Sirius had sprinkled all over. And then you pulled on the bit of tissue paper covering the very last thing in the box and when you finally saw its content you couldn’t help but swear again, “Son of a bitch!” you whispered. 

There were still some small pieces of paper over the small portrait, and you carefully brushed them out to be able to lift it from the box. The image was a hand-drawn portrait of you. You had a big smile and were looking at what would be the camera if it were an image. It looked like it might have been from one of the pictures from Marlene’s party although Sirius had changed the outfit, you were wearing an oversized sweater and his leather jacket. You could tell it was his because it had one of the enamel pins you had gotten him as a gift on the lapel. 

There were touches of colours in the strokes, not quite painting the drawing but rather giving it relatively bright edges that made it look special, unlike any other doodle. And of course, he had framed it, it was a simple yet elegant frame, dark oak and with small carved details on the sides. On the left bottom corner of the drawing, there was something written in French: 

À l'étoile la plus brillante.  Amour, 

And then, instead of his name, he signed with a small and elegant star doodle. You smiled again, it was one of the loveliest things you’d ever gotten, even if it was a portrait of yourself, the fact that Sirius had been the one to draw it, made it the most special of things. There were portraits upon portraits of you in your house, with magic that allowed you to move and smile, and even talk sometimes, but none of them held as much value as the frozen drawing Sirius had given you. 

Eventually, you placed it on your night table and picked up the last gift still sitting in your bed. His box was smaller than Sirius’, about the size of a book, which had you assumed he had gotten you something along the lines of that. 

You opened the book and found a small, pocket-sized book. It was a Sreath Bàrdachd, according to the golden script at the top. You hadn’t quite realised as you pulled it from the box, but it was handmade. You looked at it in shock as you flipped to the 50+ pages, all in carefully and methodically written cursive, his handwriting. 

Later you realised it was something between a book of poems and a compilation of quotes from different books. You admired the booklet for a few more minutes when you spotted that there was a small letter, still waiting for you inside the box. You pulled it off and broke the seal with a small sword letter opener Nox had given you as a gift. 

As you did, a small chain fell from the letter and you picked it up. It was small and dainty, just long enough to wrap around your wrist, which made you wonder how he’d guessed the size. The chain was simple, and it broke off into two different sections, one with a small crescent moon and then another one with a small star. It also had one small gemstone in between the bigger charms. You looked at it with a smile and held it in your hand as you read the letter. 

Hey there, Little Witch,  Hope you’re having an incredible Christmas. By the time you read this, you’ve probably seen the Sreath Bàrdachd, and knowing how clever you are, you probably already know what that could mean. Yes, It’s a book of poems, but also a bit more than that.  I knew Sirius was making you that incredible gift of his, and I didn’t want to fall behind. Prongs didn’t tell us what he got you but he seemed pretty confident he’d have the best gift of all. Did he?  Never mind, don’t tell me, it’s a silly competition. Either way, I thought you might like having one of these. Mum used to have one, which is why I know they exist. She told me a good friend gave it to her and she has kept it ever since then. I remembered borrowing it from her once when I was little, and she taught me how to carefully flip through the pages as she read to me. She also mentioned it was a silly girl’s thing but I thought it was amazing, and went on to make my own.  Although wonky and, with quotes from children’s books, she thought I was quite a mastermind for making it by myself. Of course, I put a lot more effort into the one you have with you now. Or perhaps the same effort but with better skills. If you’ve flipped through the pages, which I assume you have, since you’re incredibly curious, you’ve probably seen some familiar quotes.  There’s stuff from books we’ve both read and stuff that only I have read but that I thought you might like. Some of my favourite poems too, and some quotes from movies that only you’d be able to get. There are even lyrics from songs, some that we really like, some that Sirius has heard so many times that I already knew them by memory, and since the two of you like similar music, I assumed you’d know them too.  Also, there’s a small bracelet in the letter. I’ve cross-charmed it, in case you ever lose the Sreath Bàrdachd (I truly hope you never do), the gemstone will shine as you approach it. I’ve also added a few luck charms that, while they won’t keep you away from trouble –I don’t think anything could– they may give you some luck while navigating it.  Don’t hit me for saying that, you know it’s true.  Love,  Moony.  PS. Prongs told me about your little quarrel with Sirius on the platform, Sirius definitely misses you more.

See the letter here

By the time you finished Remus’ letter, you were smiling as brightly as you had when you read Sirius’. You were so lucky you had found such incredible people in Hogwarts. Your bedsheets filled with torn wrapping paper were a testament to that. You spend the rest of the afternoon listening to some more music and reading through the book Remus had made. 

He had been especially careful with his handwriting which you thought was adorable, and there were a lot of quotes from Oscar Wilde’s Picture of Dorian Grey. He had written in pencil –so you could erase it if you wanted, not that you would– that it was your fault he was obsessed with his writing now. Taking poems and quotations from both, the book aforementioned and The Ghost of Canterville. You hadn’t read the latter yet, but you were almost counting the days to go back to school and ask him to lend you his copy. 

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and you had to leave the warm comfort of reading and listening to music in favour of changing into the clothes your mom had chosen for you. You sighed as the alarm clock you’d set earlier went off, and then went straight towards your closet. The dress she had picked was simple, yet elegant. It wasn’t a long dress like the one she’d probably wear, but a more youthful one with clever intricate details on the sleeves and a midi skirt.  

“Thank god it has sleeves,” you whispered to yourself as you pulled the edge of the sleeve of Sirius’ shirt up. While your skin looked almost smooth, the lighter (almost silvery) shapes where the new skin was growing over the gush Moony had made were pretty evident. You supposed makeup and a spell could make them less visible, at least for a while, but that would have probably taken you a lot more time to achieve. 

You plopped the black dress on, smoothing the sides as walking towards your vanity where your mum had left all the potions and make-up. You sighed, remembering how much more fun it had been to dress for the Gryffindor parties than it was to dress for this one. With the black dress and the pearls on your neck, you felt a lot more like you were about to walk into a funeral rather than a party. My own funeral, you thought with a laugh when you remembered whose house you’d actually be going to. 

You grabbed a pair of red, not-too-high heels, put them on, and took another look in the large mirror by the window. You looked lovely, at least there would be no complaints from your parents on that aspect. What they might complain about was the fact that you took a bag with an undetectable extension charm and filled it with a few of the books you’d gotten as a Christmas gift. You also took the journal Lily had given you and Remus’ Sreath Bàrdachd. And you weren’t sure who’d be attending that party but you sure hoped you’d be able to sneak into a corner and read a book rather than having to interact with some of the most disagreeable friends of your parents. 

“Sweetheart, are you ready?” your mom asked from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, coming,” you said as you grabbed a few more trinkets and dumped them in your bag, just in case. 

You were about to leave the room when you saw a small glistening thing in your bed and you went straight to grab it. It was the bracelet Remus had given you, and even if it took you a while to put it on, and you continued looking between your wrist and the door as you tried to get the clasp to do its job, you thought it was worth it. I could really use that extra luck. You thought. You accommodated the necklace Sirius had given you and that you never took off and then took off James’ potion and placed it on your bag since it might be safer there than around your neck. 

One last look in the mirror to make sure everything was in order and you walked out towards the living room. 

“You look delightful, darling,” your father said as he spotted you walking out of the room. 

You gave him a half shrug in response and then managed to mutter a “thanks” that you hoped didn’t sound as bitter as it felt. After another moment of silence, your mom grabbed her bag and finished clipping on one of her earrings. 

“We’ll take the floo?” you asked. 

Your father shook his head, “They’ve sent over a Portkey,” your mom explained and motioned to the table, there was a small, fancy-looking invitation right in the middle. 

“Nice,” you said as you used your wand to levitate the object and move it right in between your parents. Perhaps if it had been floo, you could have sneakily said James’ address instead of Evan’s and escaped the party altogether. Once there, your parents wouldn’t make a fuss about it in order to not make your insubordination evident. But of course, you weren’t that lucky, and you’d have to take the portkey and you’d have to go to the party. 

“In three,” your father said as he moved his hand towards the invitation, “two… one… go.” 

The three of you placed your hands on the invitation at the same time and you felt the very familiar pull on your lower back, in less than a second, the entire world distorted around you, and then, you weren’t in your house anymore.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Aww that was so cute wasn't it? Now it's time to strap on, we're about to dive head-first into the darkest side of the story, and it's going to be fun and sad and just a rollercoaster of emotions in general. Love, Lils xx

Read more Marauders Fiction

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Poison and Wine.

Pairing/Au: Javier Peña x f!reader

Words count: 1387

Rating: +18, NSFW

Warnings/Tags: pov second person, angst, smut, reader is described having breast and vagina, no other description of her is given (pic does not represent reader's appearance in any way, it is only aesthetic), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (please use protections irl), sad thoughts, yearning, unspoken love.

A/N: Another fic I wrote a year ago, revised a year later. English is not my first language and I have no beta. I hope there are no mistakes but if there are, please excuse me. Writing Javier is not easy for me, I don't know why, but I tried.

It's inspired by the song Poison & Wine by The Civil Wars. I recommend listening to it for maximum effect. Hope you enjoy, thanks for your time!

You are in a small room. The moonlight comes in through the window, spreading across the floor in silvery streaks, leaving the rest of the room in semi-darkness. There is a bed in the center of the room, two nightstands on either side, a wooden chair in the corner with clothes haphazardly draped over it. Old curtains frame the sides of the window. The bed is covered with a red bedspread and cheap white sheets. The entire room smells of sex, cigarettes, and cheap deodorant.

On the wall opposite the bed is a small door that leads to a small, rather squalid bathroom. There is a man on the bed. He is lying on his back, his head resting on the pillow. He has short, thick, wavy raven hair, some tufts falling onto his high forehead. His eyes are closed, a strong, harmonious nose that blends perfectly with the rest of his face, shaved cheeks, pronounced cheekbones, full lips. The lower lip is slightly thicker than the upper one, covered by a pair of short, black, well-groomed moustaches, they’re parted, set in a sort of pout.

Neck relaxed, shoulders broad, arms stretched out at his sides, softly resting, hands open on the sheets. Regular breaths rise and fall on his chest, adorned with two small dark pink nipples, deliciously divided by the line of his sternum. His torso is almost completely hairless, except for a thin strip of hair that disappears into his black boxers. One of his legs is wrapped in the covers while the other is spread and the foot almost off the edge of the bed.

Your back rests on the pillow, which you have placed against the wooden headboard of the bed.

You've been watching him sleep for a while, he seems less worried in his sleep, less agitated by the urgency of not wasting time, of achieving the results he has set himself. There is always a tension in him, a restlessness that vibrates in his body. He is incredibly beautiful, you will never get used to how perfectly designed he is to make you lose your mind.

You are just a diversion, someone who calls to clear his mind, to chase away the horror he has to face every day. He never talks about his job but you are perfectly aware of what happens out there, you have seen it with your own eyes for as long as you can remember, you have lived here your whole life. The drugs, the corruption, the murders, the attacks, the bombs, have always been the backdrop to your life.

Most cops are corrupt, violent, double-crossing, you're used to not trusting them. There are few people who really try to do something good, like him. He was immediately kind and discreet, even if a certain cold detachment always remains.

You know he would never take advantage of you in a mean way. But you also know how he always sneaks out the door before dawn, making no promises, barely saying goodbye. You never know when he will call you again.

He takes what he needs and you are so eager to give it to him and he disappears like a ghost. Present in the moment, fleeting the next.

You know he asks you to meet him at these out-of-the-way motels because he’s afraid someone might follow you. You know it’s a way of protecting you as well as himself. But you can’t help but feel like you’re something small in his life, something not worth bringing into the light of day.

And you know you're already in awe, eager to have him, to taste him and feel his skin and his scent.

He smells like leather, cigarettes and tequila, with a fresh underlay of soap and men’s cologne.

You’re naked next to him, a heat still radiates from your lower abdomen and rises in your stomach.

You lie down on the bed, sighing, accompanying the pillow with your hands to slide it under your head.

Eyes on the ceiling, you’re trying to channel your emotions, without letting them crawl out of you.

You can make do with this. You can wait for him to wake up and you can tolerate him quickly picking up his clothes and leaving after a quick kiss on the lips. What he gave you before can be enough.

His hands running down your body.

Hands that can heal and can burn.

His lips in the crook of your neck, nibbling at the soft skin under your ear.

He pushed you, caging you between his body and the door, kissing you without saying a word. Flesh and teeth colliding.

He raised your arms above your head and his mouth trailed down your neck and chest, his mustache scratching you a little, his breath brushing your skin.

His impatient touch undressed you, his feverish fingers running down your tummy, lingering for a moment on the hem of your panties and then making room for them to look for your clit, drawing circles, making you vibrate.

He made you lie down on the bed, then took off his clothes and threw them on the chair.

He threw himself on you urgently, kissing your soft naked skin beneath him. He moved down between your legs to take care of your privates. His tongue was relentless, hungry, insistent as two fingers continued to rub your clit and his other hand was open on your hip. Your fingers were buried in his hair, your moans filling the silence along with his grunts of approval as he felt you tremble and melt for him.

His lips moved up to you, determined not to leave aside even an inch of your skin. You felt him everywhere on your body and you didn't care about anything else. He pulled you against him, wrapped one big, strong arm around your waist. Your breasts pressed against his chest, his cock poking at your entrance, stretching you an inch at the time, sinking into your warm, soaked cunt.

He moved slowly at first to let you get used to it, then harder, deeper. You felt his mouth widen into a smile on your skin as you repeated his name like a prayer.

Javier.

Javier.

Javier.

He held you tight to feel as much of you as he could, hammering your softest spot over and over again. He whispered in your ear, his voice deep, raspy, bouncing in your chest, in your brain, driving you crazy.

His jaw went slack, his eyes darker and full of lust as he came inside you, making you feel like you were one, painting your walls with his cum.

He didn't stop until he felt your pussy twitch and tighten around his cock, your head thrown back, your eyes closed, your mouth agape.

No one has ever made you feel this way, insatiable, overwhelmed by the need to have him more and more.

You are lost.

Empty.

You can't admit it.

You can't face it.

There is nothing you would like more than to feel important to him, someone who gives him peace of mind, someone who can always be by his side.

You know it will never happen but you can't stop wishing it would.

He wakes up. You look away, so as not to let him know that you were doing nothing but looking at him, in the vain hope of at least satiating your gaze, without success.

Javier.

He turns to you, strokes your arm and then sits on the bed, stretching.

He lights a cigarette, completely unaware of the battle raging inside you. He seems calm, relaxed, takes a drag and tosses the ash into the ashtray on the nightstand.

You want to shake him by the shoulders, tell him how hard it is every time you see him go, how painful it is. You want to ask him if he knows how he makes you feel. You do nothing, you just sit there, wrapped in the blankets, inhaling the sweet smell of his sweaty skin.

You smile weakly at him as he gets up, puts out his cigarette, gets dressed, gives you a quick kiss, and walks out the door.

Without saying anything, without promising anything, as usual.

I don’t love you, but I always will.

[monicahar]

not what it seams...

wanderer x gn! reader, oneshot, comfort/hurt, fluff, he's referred as kuni bc wanderer is just blarhghgg, mentions of cheating and affairs, kuni being insecure, mouchie bday special ! !

anyone with two braincells could obviously tell you were up to something.

the rushed less-than gratifying kisses, cautious and hurried steps in nearly everything you do, nervous glances thrown his way when you think he isn't looking—he'd be as dumb as a rock if he couldn't at least pick up on your strange behaviour.

with how you were leaving your shared inn during the dead of the night, thinking you're being slick without his knowledge—he's growing suspicions now.

just what is it?

perhaps, you're doing errands? but why is it at night and why aren't you bringing him along with you like the usual?

are you in any danger and is unable to tell him? he's worried.

is it an affair? he's scared.

he's tempted to follow you whenever he hears rustling of bed sheets next to him during ungodly hours of the moon's turn, but he's afraid of what he'd come to reveal once he tries to pry it himself.

this is awfully out of character for him—considering he never beats around the bush and just always does what is necessary and whatever he feels obliged to.

as much as he doesn't want to admit it, it's highly likely due to the fact that your relationship is on the line—he could lose you, and he does not want that at all.

if you were truly in danger, you would've long asked him for help or at least told him in a more roundabout way should there be some type of factor preventing you from directly saying it to him. you both have multiple ways of letting the other person know one is in danger, so that's simply checked out.

but abandoning that sentiment would leave with you having an affair.

if he's right about you hogging another partner behind his back, then pathetically enough for him and his pride, he wouldn't know what to do.

just by simply imagining you enjoying life with someone else already has him stumped. he shakes his head to remove the disturbing image in his head whilst an uncomfortable feeling lurks inside his chest.

he can't stop pondering about what is really wrong with you, and it's effectively stopping him from getting a single wink of sleep—aside from the factor that you aren't beside him right now trying to warm him up with your bear hugs.

heck, he should just get this over with. like what you've always said—communication is key. he'll just confront you head on. 

if you turn out to be a filthy cheater, then he should be able to drop you easily. he has no use for a partner that doesn't carry respect for him.

...

—right?

"are you cheating on me?"

he finally drops the dreaded question one day during an unsuspecting lunch with you—saying it as if he was plainly discussing the weather as some mere small talk to share.

when you choke on your food as a response—he does not budge, refusing to look at you in the eye as he stares at the untouched meal before him.

is this cowardice? he holds in a small huff at the thought. is he that attached that he still doesn't wish to part with you even under the heavy suspicion that you're hiding someone else behind your back?

he could feel your intense gaze on him when you calm down from your fit of coughs with a haste chug of water, non-verbally asking for an explanation through your questioning stare as to why he uttered such an accusation.

unfortunately for you, his silence merely grew thicker in return.

seeing as he wasn't making move nor had any intention to speak up any more after the initial vocalising of a cheating allegation, you heave a deep sigh.

“...and what makes you say that, kuni?”

your voice came out more calm and collected than the wanderer...anticipated. a pleasant tone coated in saccharine as to somehow relay that you genuinely want to talk this out with him.

he honestly expected a much more violent response—jabbing a finger at him for even thinking of saying such a repulsive claim, slamming a hand on the table as to being defensive when pressed on a matter of being basically called a liar or being extremely defensive—he's expected a much worse reply.

you asked for what made him say that as a response, a much better retort than he expected, but not the one he really wanted.

“just answer the question. i'm not mad at all.”

not mad he says, but why is he clenching his fists underneath the table, almost trembling in the process?

he feels like he could puke. like a boiling pot of water threatening to spill its contents at how much it seethes in flames.

please answer. he begs in the depths of his tempestuous mind.

he's struggling to hold in his erratic emotions right now because he just wants an answer. a proper one that would decide whether he'd leave this table at this instant or not.

something is violently hammering against his chest nonstop as his exasperation grows.

being too preoccupied with trying to keep his composure and not break down right in front of you, he doesn't notice you circling around his seat until you gently wrap your arms around his shoulder, pulling his back to meet your embrace as you place a soothing kiss atop his head.

“no.” one word, and his tense shoulders refuse to move a single inch under your hold.

you euphoniously whisper all of it, only for him to solely hear and no one else. “i'm not cheating on you.”

the wanderer leisurely cranes his neck to look at your face, scouring your expression in bated breaths as he desperately searches for an ounce of a false truth: a lie.

after a nearly dehumanizing moment, relief washes over him like he'd just went under a spring waterfall—cleansing him of all his pessimistic and obstructive thoughts in one instant.

he finds nothing, but sincerity in your pools.

quickly shifting in his seat to face you fully, he gingerly wraps his arms around your waist as he buries his face onto your clothes, his hands gripping the cloth like it's his last lifeline.

you don't bother to hide your shock as you lightly squeal when he tightens his grip on you, feeling his lips quivering against the soft frabric of your shirt.

suddenly feeling a cold wetness form in your shirt, you raise your hand to delicately caress the tresses of his hair and massage his scalp with your fingers as you coo at him quietly.

listening to his soft cries with his face still hidden away from the world against your body, you frown as you try to think of what possibly made him think this way in the first place. your usually snarky and cynical lover crying like this wasn't a minor matter in any way.

wait a moment, is this because of that...?

“were you awake each time i was leaving in the middle of the night?” you ask straightforwardly, without hesitation as if you couldn't believe it if it revealed to be the truth behind all of this.

he sniffles as he somehow buries himself deeper onto your chest, his voice coming out strained from all his crying—“you weren't being particularly discreet, you know? you idiot...”

“ahaha...” you rub the nape of your neck in slight embarrassment. he never moved nor breathed when asleep so there was absolutely no way you could even figure out if he was asleep or not. a huge misstep on your part. “forgive me, it wasn't supposed to look that way.”

“what was it supposed to look like then?” even in this vulnerable window he's warily let you in, he's still being the sarcastic bastard he is, it seems.

you tut as if it wasn't your fault from the start. “you weren't supposed to look in the first place, kuni.”

you immediately yelp in pain when he pinches a small part of your skin through your clothes, earning him a light demeaning pat to his shoulder for his unnecessary engagement of a teasing action.

“what were you even doing...in the middle of the night at that.” he grumbles.

you hum in content when he finally raises his head to meet your eyes, tears still brimming on the ends of his lashes as his inevitably gaze softens at the sight of you looking down at him with a small smile. “i was visiting a tailor. she's helping me make a gift, discreetly as i asked to.”

cradling his face in your palms, you start to rubs circles on his cheeks, feeling the dried streak of the tears he let out for you. you hold in the urge to pinch his puffy cheeks.

“a gift? for wh—” and suddenly, for split moment—the wanderer felt dumb.

“looks like our special birthday boy forgot something, hm?” you couldn't help the smirk that crept up on your face as realization dawns upon him like a brick.

“i've finished the gift just last night, but it doesn't look the best so i was still hesitating whether or not i'd give it to you because you might not like it—”

“give it to me.”

looking down at him, you realize he's since long pulled away from your hold, staring at you with his indigo hues like a child waiting for his toy to be brought to him.

“... don't laugh, okay?”

he immediately raises a brow at that as he rubs his eyes out of its puffiness. “uh, sure. if it's that bad.”

reaching for your bag at your end of the table, you slowly bring out the gift from its confinements, shoving the gift into his arms as the embarrassment slowly eats up all of your confidence from earlier.

a doll, you gave.

a handsewn doll that looks like you to match the little one hidden in his navy kimono sleeves.

“it's...” he starts, thumbing the small details you added in to make it more convincing that it was supposed to look like you.

[e/c] beads as your eyes, some small chipped material of sorts to accommodate your hairstyle, clothes are spot on save for the small tear on its back... it's so...

panic overcomes your senses when a tear starts running down his face yet again, his eyes widened in surprise and fascination as he stared at the mini you sat on his palm.

“w-wait a moment, why are you crying?! my gift wasn't supposed to make you do that!”

“shut up! i'm just crying because it's so ugly!”

whatever the boy filled with derisiveness says, yet he holds the newly gifted doll so closely and snug to his chest, a smile so miniscule gracing upon his lips that he probably doesn't even notice it himself.

but you do.

—and it's more than enough for you to fully discard the blunt insult he threw at your gift just now.

(not what it seams cause get it? reader sewed a gift for him while it's all just a big misunderstanding? hehehehe hahahahaha😐)

once again HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR BABY SCARAMOUCHIEEE pop a fart rn if you want to kiss him virtually

[the-queen-of-hell-666]

Welcome Home

Kinktober 2024 - Day 17

Pairing: Wolf-Hybrid!Geralt of Rivia x Fem!Reader

Kink: Breeding

Word Count: 1000+

Summary: Geralt comes home from a job and all he wants is you.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink, knotting, mating press, possessive sex, d/s dynamics), wolf-hybrid (wolf ears, tail, and thicker body hair), soft!Geralt, caring!Reader, domestic life

a/n: I hope I did alright writing this fic! I haven't written much about hybrid dynamics, but I wish I did okay! Hope you enjoy!

Banners by @vase-of-lilies

You had heard of the White Wolf amongst the people in the village, some said that he was a monster, some said that he was a hero, but you had your own opinion for the white-haired witcher, considering that he spent most nights in your bed. You lived on the outskirts of the village as a healer with two buildings on your land, one was your house and the other was your infirmary. You met Geralt when Jaskier brought him to your infirmary for help, and while helping him, you fell for him. It was early morning when Geralt came through the door, the floorboards creaking under his weight. You were just waking up and making yourself a cup of tea when he came in. You gave him a warm smile and pulled another mug out for him, and you walked over to him as he set his bag and sword by the door. He gave a tired smile as he pulled you into his arms and placed a kiss on your lips. 

“Welcome home, Wolf.” You whispered and nuzzled your nose against his and he let out a soft noise and his shoulders dropped into a relaxed stance, and his tail swooshed from side to side. You smiled softly, “Let me start you a bath.” You said as you caressed his fluffy ear softly and went to move, but his large hand on your hip stopped you. 

“Only if you join me.” Geralt murmured as he kissed you again, making you smile wider. 

“Of course.” You hummed as you pulled away and moved to fill a large stock pot with clean water and you placed it over the wood fire stove. It was already lit because you were making tea, and you watched Geralt as he walked to the tub in the corner and he dragged it over to be in front of the stove. 

He stripped down to his under cloths, revealing his slightly fuzzy chest and you could see his cock half-hard. Once the water was in a light boil, you poured it into the steel lined tub. You filled the pot up again with more clean water and poured it into the tub to cool the boiling water off. He shucked off his cloths and sunk into the bath with a groan, and you grabbed your bucket of soaps and salves. You sat on the stool next to the tub and you grabbed a small bucket to scoop the water. You would join him after he was cleaned of the grime that built up during his days on the road. 

After washing his hair, ears, tail, and cleaning the blood and grime off of his face and body. You drained the tub before starting another pot of water and once the second bath was ready, Geralt was practically tearing your clothes off, letting out soft growls as your soft skin was revealed to you. You let out a soft gasp as he lifted you into his arms and climbed into the tub. He held you in his lap as he helped you tie your hair up to keep it out of the water. He nuzzled into your neck and mouthed at your skin softly as his hands slid in between your thighs and up to cup your mound, making you moan softly. 

His sharper than normal canines grazed your neck softly, “Smells so good. Missed you so much.” He growled against your skin and he caressed up to your breasts and palmed them with his warm hands. 

You moaned and you reached back and tangled your fingers in his damp hair softly and tugged softly and he growled louder. He was quick to pick you up and carried you to your shared room. You gasped as he gently tossed you onto the bed that Geralt had arranged into a nest. His nose twitched as he smelled your arousal at the show of his strength and he climbed on top of you and nuzzled into your neck. His hands trailed down to your thighs and pulled them up to wrap around his waist, and you moaned as he nipped and sucked on the skin of your neck. 

He reached down and stroked his throbbing cock and lined up to your drooling hole and slowly slipped inside of you. You cried out softly as he bottomed out in your weeping cunt and you could feel the base of his knot swelling a bit as he bottomed out. You moaned and your nails dug into his shoulders and you held him flush against your heaving breasts. He caught your lips in a hungry and passionate kiss and he adjusted your legs up to the crook of his elbows and pressed you into the soft mattress before he started thrusting deep and slow in and out of you. You held him close as he pressed deeper into your already full cunt, feeling his knot press against your hole. He kept up the same deep and slow pace, rutting into you with passion and vigor. You let out moans and cries as the wolf inside of him took over and his thrusts grew harder and faster. 

The coil in your belly tightened and your thighs shook in his hands and they tightened, leaving bruises in your plush skin. He kissed you hungrily as you cried his name out and came on his cock, making him grunt and his knot slipped into your pulsing cunt. “Gonna breed you, ‘mega.” He groaned against your skin as his canines grazed the skin of your neck. His hind mind taking over as his knot swelled, locking you together as he painted your insides with his warm cum. “Take my pups, make you my mate.” He grunted louder as he thrusted impossibly deeper in your cunt. 

After his knot went down, Geralt cleaned you two up before climbing back under the blankets. You two basked in the afterglow, with his tail wrapped around your waist as you laid on his broad chest. He rubbed your back softly with his warm hands making you let out a happy sigh and sink further into his hold. He kissed your head softly and whispered to you how much he loved you, and you whispered it back to him before drifting off to sleep, happy and safe.

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

Perhaps, if he had bothered to ask for a second opinion, Shadow Milk Cookie would have been told he shouldn't be doing this. Luckily, he hadn't, so he manages to confidently prepare the magic circle with very little concern towards the appropriateness of his own actions.

He steps back to look over it once more, checking for any errors, before finally setting the chalk down. Brushing off the dust from his hands, Shadow Milk admires his handiwork in the light of the crescent moon, his dough crawling with accumulated anticipation.

He noticed it a long time ago, the suffocating blanket of churning emotion that often drapes itself over him, heavy and dark. It isn't his own emotion, he realised that quickly, because it weighs over him instead of burrowing into his chest, and nothing happened to him personally to prompt such tumultuous feelings. This realisation was soon followed by another – namely, that some sort of external being must be the cause, and it must be following him, if its presence is plaguing him so strongly. It comes and it goes, but it always returns, and he is finally going to find out what it is.

So Shadow Milk is looking forward to this. It is his specialty as the holder of the Light of Truth, after all, to reveal unknowns, and this unknown has long become personal.

With the magic circle ready and the moon in the sky, there is no reason for him to wait any longer, so he doesn't. He steps carefully into the circle, making sure not to disturb the lines as he makes his way to the middle, and with a sweep of his robes, he settles down into a sitting position.

This spell is a difficult one because it was found incomplete, the rest of it either lost to time or unfinished. It had taken quite a lot of reworking to finalise something feasible, in between all his other duties. There is also the added caveat of it being a Black Magic spell, but Shadow Milk had found a compromise for that, which is precisely why he chose to perform it under the smiling crescent, mere days away from the new moon, instead of the full moon.

Regardless of the effort required, if everything went well, this spell should allow him to make contact with the being that had been following him, whatever it may be. More specifically, it should open a mental connection, allowing them to have a conversation even if this being was something incapable of speech.

That alone was worth all this effort. After all, Shadow Milk had plenty of questions to ask it.

He plants his hands on the ground, drawing power from the moon tentatively like unspooling a thread. It starts to spill in quicker, wilder, and he makes sure to remain calm as it seems to buzz and writhe through him, focusing on redirecting it into the magic circle. It begins to glow a cold white, and Shadow Milk feels his dough prickling like it is being watched, that familiar presence growing heavier around him like a blanket. He bites down on his excited smile.

Don't worry. Just a little bit more, and we'll finally meet.

Shadow Milk's hands twitch with the force of the magic coursing through him, and he watches out of the corner of his eye as the shadows in the room seem to congeal, growing thicker and pooling out of their hiding spots. They eat away at the magic circle, closing in on Shadow Milk swiftly, and he welcomes them as they eagerly swallow the circle, the floor, the walls, the room, everything.

What happens next is difficult to describe. He doesn't feel the ground fall out from under him, he just realises it is no longer there. It is so dark that it makes no difference if his eyes are open or closed, and they don't seem to adjust no matter how many times he blinks. It only makes the surrounding darkness begin to squirm in strange patterns, as if alive. He suddenly feels strange and cold.

But most importantly, he feels like he is submerged in those restless emotions, his every move weighted like he is underwater. They nearly choke him, stronger than he has ever felt before, and delight bursts in his chest in jarring contrast, thrilled that the spell seems to have worked.

"Hello?" He calls out, his voice echoing in a way that makes his ears ring. For a moment that feels like forever, there is nothing but a deafening silence around to greet him.

And then, he is attacked with blinding light.

Shadow Milk rears back as much as he can manage, instinctively shutting his eyes at the assault, and raises a hand to shield them when he immediately tries to open them again, curious of the source. Squinting past the shade of his palm, he finds dozens of white suns glaring down at him, their light doing nothing to penetrate the overwhelming black of the void.

"How are you here?" A voice calls back, hoarse and whispery and frantic, as if it had never been used before, and Shadow Milk's breath catches.

Upon closer inspection, the suns surrounding him are actually the pupils of a dozen huge eyes, bearing down on him with wide-eyed focus from all sides. Shadow Milk soaks in the attention, joy bubbling nauseatingly in his stomach like soda, his mind running so fast that his thoughts become incomprehensible.

"Who are you?" He asks, the question almost bursting right out of his chest with how suddenly it comes. He can't quite look at the eyes directly, with how blindingly bright they are, but he does his best to hedge in quick glances.

There isn't a response, not from the voice or the eyes, but that doesn't deter him. Now Shadow Milk has unshakeable proof that the being is here, capable of conversation, he doesn't need any more encouragement to keep going.

"I'm Shadow Milk Cookie, though you must know that already." He introduces himself with a polite nod of his head, somewhat entertained by the thought of his eldritch companion being shy. When that doesn't garner any meaningful result, he tacks on, lightheartedly, "Isn't it a bit rude to not introduce yourself back?"

The eyes blink at him, the syncopated movement rippling through the nothingness.

"...There is nothing to introduce." The voice replies reluctantly, though it sounds more stable than before, slightly stronger as it curls around him. "I don't have a name anymore."

"You must have a name," Shadow Milk urges with a creeping smile, "or at least something I can call you."

There is another stretch of silence, long enough that Shadow Milk is forced to reconsider his approach, before it is graciously broken by his companion, who must have come to some kind of conclusion.

"You can call me the Beast of Deceit, if you must call me at all." The Beast offers, and if Shadow Milk's attention hadn't already been fully devoted to it, that certainly would have done the trick. "That is all anyone calls me now."

"The Beast of Deceit." Shadow Milk repeats the syllables carefully, tasting them as he brings a hand up to the warm pulse of his Soul Jam. Something clicks pleasantly in his mind, like a perfect solution to an equation that has been bothering him. "Then you're almost like my other half, aren't you? Since Truth and Deceit are direct opposites." The thought is nice enough, he supposes, but more than that, it is intriguing. "Is that why you've been watching me?"

This must be the wrong thing to ask, because the Beast skates past his question entirely, eyes squinting as if pained. "You shouldn't be here."

"And yet, here I am. It took quite a lot of work for me to get here too, so you'll understand that I'm not in a hurry to leave." Shadow Milk explains amicably, hoping that if he was clear with his intentions, the Beast might entertain a more fruitful conversation. He pauses, looking around at the surrounding infinity. "Where is here, anyway?"

"Nowhere you would want to be." The Beast says cryptically, its voice slowly moving, collecting somewhere in front of him. It's a bit disorienting.

"...You aren't very good at holding a conversation, are you?" Shadow Milk sighs, not unkindly but certainly with growing frustration. Still, he has considered this possibility before, of his unknown companion being uncooperative, so he tries again. "Isn't it unfair for you to not answer any of my questions, after following me around for so long? I think I deserve an explanation, at least."

"I have no explanation to give." The Beast's tone is flat. It's… a disappointing response, frankly, but Shadow Milk smiles through it.

"But you can't deny that you are the one who has been following me." He counters, his voice light and pleasant so it doesn't come across too heavily as an accusation. "Your emotions are very palpable, so your presence isn't subtle. There is no mistaking it."

The coiling thickness of those emotions seem to shift around Shadow Milk now, almost self-consciously, but they do not lighten. Such strong negative feelings - he is fascinated by them, the researcher in him wanting to know what exactly could cause them.

The Beast sighs as if it is carrying the weight of the world on its shoulders, and the sound finally settles in front of him entirely as some of the eyes slide closed. The clashing light and dark begins to morph before him, a faint silhouette forming and rising out of the nothingness.

Shadow Milk watches, enraptured, as the shape of a Cookie emerges, dripping with the void itself. He looks battered, wrapped in dishevelled black robes with equally dishevelled dull hair. It is covered by a dark hat shaped like a crown, with what must be his Soul Jam set in the middle, its blue the only splash of colour to be seen. His eyes are covered in a thick black blindfold, and he holds a staff protectively in front of himself with both hands, eerily similar in style to the one Shadow Milk left outside of the magic circle, if not for the vertically oriented eye.

All in all, he does not look intimidating. If anything, he looks like a chess piece.

"I apologise for that, then. I wasn't aware my presence would disturb you so much." The Beast mutters, as if he would prefer not to be speaking, his form not quite fully formed. "But you shouldn't be here. Please leave."

"You don't look like much of a beast to me." Shadow Milk comments warmly, extending the friendly compliment in the hopes of distracting the Beast from his complete lack of intention to leave. Even so, his words are genuine. "That title doesn't fit you at all."

The Beast frowns, ducking his head lower. "Don't act so familiar with me. I am called the Beast of Deceit for a reason." He hisses, but it holds no malice, only tiredness. Then, after a beat, he repeats, firmer than before. "Please leave."

The title really doesn't suit him, though. Shadow Milk ponders this for a moment, before mentally renaming him as the King instead. A poor excuse for a king, perhaps, but that still felt far more appropriate than a beast.

"...Will you really not tell me anything?" Shadow Milk asks finally, growing more subdued. "You must know, since you have been following me, that I have worked hard to be able to contact you like this."

"I have nothing to tell, I have already told you that." The King reminds him quietly, unimpressed, turning his head away. "I apologise for your wasted time, but it was unnecessary to begin with." Then, after a beat, he repeats, an attempt at a lacklustre command. "Please leave."

Shadow Milk hums under his breath, pondering this too. This isn't going exactly how he had hoped, that is true, but to call his time wasted is completely incorrect. On the contrary, all this encounter has done is make his curiosity peak, even more invested in this mystery than he was before.

Maybe it was for the best that the King refused to tell him anything. Thinking about it now, wouldn't that have been too simple? It is more fun to unravel some things himself, and Shadow Milk is certainly capable of uncovering the truth behind this odd apparition.

It is his virtue, after all.

"...Alright." Shadow Milk nods, taking one last lingering look at the King, before closing his eyes. "If you insist, I'll leave."

The King doesn't reply. That's fine. Shadow Milk focuses on searching himself internally for the tether to his physical body, for the anchor that is the magic circle. Since this is his first time casting this spell, and the way the magic twists is unfamiliar, it admittedly takes him a moment to get a hold of it, but he does.

Concentrating on that anchor, he calls himself back to his body.

Much like leaving, returning is just as hard to describe. There is no jolt, or impact. Everything simply returns – his senses, the floor beneath him, the sound of the wind outside the window – from one moment to the next. He shudders as he gets reacquainted with his body, or rather, his body gets reacquainted with him.

The chaos of those negative emotions are awfully thick in the air, squeezing around him tightly like they hope to crumble him. Shadow Milk relaxes into it, releasing his grip on the flow of magic and the spell itself, and opens his eyes.

There, in front of him, the King is suspended in the air above the outer edge of the circle, unmoving. His form flickers, translucent and blurring at the edges. Slowly, unnervingly slowly like he doesn't know how to use it properly, he turns his head.

"...What is this?" The King whispers, the words almost dissolving into the ambient noise, his grip on his staff visibly tightening.

"The spell I used to make contact with you forged a connection between us." Shadow Milk says patiently, making sure his expression is open and welcoming, the same one he uses when introducing himself to new students. "If my presence could be projected to wherever we were previously, then naturally your presence can be projected here too. It's only fair, since you were watching me anyway, weren't you?"

Shadow Milk rises to his feet, brushing dust off his robes with both hands. The King says nothing, but he can practically feel the frown directed at him.

"I understand if you don't want to tell me anything. That's okay!" Shadow Milk assures, lifting his gaze back to that blindfold, that staff, that Soul Jam, near identical to his own. His curiosity burns.

"You don't have to tell me," he smiles like a promise, "I'll find out for myself."

[tacticaldiary]

To Hate A Heart That Beats For You

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Jealousy, Tension

"Say please." It's all teeth and a sharp teasing voice with her. Ghost stills at the command, annoying flickering its agitated flames.

Every fucking thing about her rubbed him the wrong way, made him so...out of control? Agitated? All of the above? She always somehow manages to make him concede. She did it back then and she's doing it right now with his breath ghosting over her lips, hot and heavy.

Masterlist

There are not many things that shake the foundation of control Ghost keeps a tight grip on.

Throw him in the middle of a gunfight, a brawl or a series of rough drills and he's normally the first one to make it out. All his life he's been the kind of person to keep to himself, to deal with problems as efficiently and effectively as possible.

She was the exception.

Standing in front of him after two years, with the same pride lining her shoulders, the defiance in her eyes.

"You remember the Lieutenant, don't you?" Laswell stands between them, an unknowing mediator.

"We're...acquainted." She says dryly, locking eyes with Ghost himself. Her voice is the same as well. Everything about her is a shock to his system so part of him is glad that she's the one who spoke up.

Two years. Two years since they'd been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant together and gone their separate ways. He'd joined the 141 and she had taken fancy to some tactical intel gathering specialist group.

Laswell pauses, looking up from her file at the clear snap of tension in the air.

"No need for introductions then." She shuts the folder, giving them both her full attention. "She'll be joining your team for today, talking to your recruits about the intel gathering division she's a part of. Sergeant Gaz is already doing vice versa. I expect you to play nice for today, I don't want any... incidents, copy?"

"Copy." She says, watching Ghost nod.

And then suddenly they're alone, with only the thump of distant footsteps from the recruits to punctuate the silence hanging between them.

"As friendly as ever I see."

"I'm as friendly as you are pleasant." Ghost responds.

"I'm plenty pleasant. It's you that's never been able to get that stick out of your ass."

"Careful." He narrows his eyes, pushing himself off the wall. "We know how the last time you picked a fight ended."

"That's cute." She smiles. "I seem to remember you getting put on desk duty for two weeks."

"After I choked you out on the training mat."

"I'm sure you've been dreaming of doing that again." Her self-satisfied smile widens when he doesn't respond for a moment, taken aback. With a shake of her head, she directs her gaze back onto the field where the soldiers are slowly finishing their last lap. "I feel sorry for them. Having to see your ugly mug in the morning with that mask can't make their breakfast settle very well."

An arm brushes against hers, and before he pushes past her, Ghost leans down right next to her ear. "You were yelling quite the opposite the last time you saw it." He whispers with a slightly thicker accent than usual, letting the satisfaction of seeing that smug expression falter for a moment settle deep into him as he knocks past her roughly.

They had a...messy history to say the least.

Two forces as headstrong as them were bound to butt heads. Her earliest memory is arguing with him. The both of them have always had a competitive streak, whether that be on the mat or running timed drills.

That tension had to blow up in their faces sometime, and that time just happened to be the day after they both got promoted...

Her eyes follow his form as he orders the recruits over, telling them to split into small groups, informing them of why she was there.

Red creeps up her neck her mind flashes back to that night. They had been taunting each other in passing all day, silently arguing who the better candidate had been, which one of them deserved it more. It doesn't sound like Ghost at all but they'd always had something more fiery than what they were like by themselves.

One too many jabs had led to a small tussle, which had led to a moment of weakness and...well, now's not the time to remember the frantic touches and calloused hands. The first time she'd seen his maskless...

He certainly had been anything but ugly and that makes her so fucking mad.

Shaking it off, she composes herself and decides to take the reigns.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It's been an hour of standing around, supervising the talk, and Ghost is ready to tear into something. Or someone, more preferably.

His jaw clenches, watching how she floats from soldier to soldier, group to group. The effect on them is instantaneous with the way they straighten up, surprised at being addressed before melting into smiles that are a tad bit too wide and eager, and eyes that wander farther than appropriate.

Her hand lingers on some of their shoulders, elbows nudge and compliments flow out of her mouth.

Maybe he's finally going insane?

A few times their eyes meet, and neither of them look away, too stubborn to be the first to fold. Every time, the corner of her mouth quirks up when she turns to keep doing what she was.

A sick, ugly feeling rears its head inside him at the sight.

What gave those pathetic recruits the right to look at her that way? And why are his fingers twitching for the knives strapped along the expanse of his body?

Why the fuck does he care?

"...Ghost? You with us?" She raises an eyebrow when his glare snaps to her instead. She's wandered over to him, leaving the recruits to talk amongst themselves for a break.

"What?" He says coldly.

"Someone piss in your breakfast?" God, he'd throttle her first, then move on to those other men-

"Same person who pissed in yours." The retort gets him a raise of an eyebrow but nothing more.

"Sure. I'm done here, so you can go back to terrorising the poor kids." It's a receptive group, more than a couple of them had shown interest in what she was saying. A few of the more promising ones she had taken a personal note of, intending to pass their names forward to Laswell to consider.

"Until we have the misfortune of meeting again." She says, and maybe it's a throwaway act of trying to remain civil in such a public setting, but she extends a hand towards him.

He eyes it for a second, eyes narrowing.

"If you're afraid I'll throw you over my shoulder like last time-"

She grins smugly when he takes her hands, squeezing it through the brief handshake a little harder than necessary.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

This is a terrible idea.

Somehow, because whoever's up there seems to have a personal vendetta against him, Ghost finds himself standing in front of her office door, a file on all the recruit's scores and past experiences Laswell had ordered him to pass onto her clutched loosely in his arm.

It was 11 at night, but the army notoriously never slept.

Because he's not a fucking animal, he knocks, waiting to hear her call out an okay before pushing the door open.

It's as sparsely decorated as his own office. There's not much to keep the value of sentiment in with lives as busy as theirs, but the things that catch his focus are the small picture frames set on her desk.

After her, of course.

Changed into something more casual, his eyes trace the dips and curves that are so utterly her.

"Did you need something?" She asks, the friendly edge to her voice flittering away when she sees it's him.

"No, but you do." Moving closer, he tosses the file onto her desk. Staring at it for a moment, she clicks her tongue whilst flipping through the pages.

"I'd like to snag a couple of these for my team in a few years." She mutters to herself, pausing over a few of the reports. Ghost's hands twitch with the urge to curl them inwards when he remembers the events of this morning.

She's studying him, he realises. With a quiet, titled expression, she's taking him in head to toe and it's the first time in a while Ghost has felt so stripped to the core.

"Got something to say?" His voice comes out rougher than intended. Making no move to speak, the corner of her lips quirk up slightly. Huffing quietly, she spins her chair back around to face her desk, picking up the pen she'd discarded when he first walked through her doors.

It's quiet. The scratching of pen on paper. Something about it jarrs him, ignites a twinge of irritation because why the hell is she so quiet now after he's asked her a question? Normally she sparsely shuts up enough for his heart to cool down from its quickened pace.

He'd say later on that he weighed the decision he made, that he really thought it through but frankly, the only thing on his mind is her, and it's cloudy with enough anger and an emotion he's not willing to admit right now that he acts without thinking. Completely on instinct.

Ghost spins the chair around so he's facing her and looking down. "Ignoring me now?" He says into the sharp silence. "Never thought I'd see the day you shut your mouth."

"Is that the way you talk to someone you spent the night with?" She answers. He grunts in surprise at her hand curling around the back of his beck, yanking him further down until they're face to face. "That's why you're still here, aren't you? Still bothered from this morning?" The smug look on her face only makes Ghost more irritated because she's right. He could have easily left after dropping the file off. He had no apparent reason to stay. "Couldn't stand the thought of sharing something you've already had a bite out of?"

It dawns on him with her tone right there and then.

She'd been doing it on purpose. The glances to him as she made her rounds, the way she lingered over the recruits only when she could feel his eyes burning into her from behind.

Ghost is met with that teasing, smug grin that fixes him into place a little too effectively because when she hooks an ankle around the bend of his knee and pulls, he goes down onto his knees without much of a fight. He's tall enough so they're actually face to face now, eyes level.

"Finally caught on?" The smooth lilt to has his stomach twisting and his mind reeling, though he stays as composed on the outside as always. Waiting. Watching. Urging himself to keep his hands to himself.

"Fuckin' hell." He breathes out. "You little minx."

"Affirmative."

Heated eyes take in the being that is her. Sharp smiles, dirty tactics, and that attitude that made him want to do things that would get him discharged if he were to ever voice them.

All of her was a deadly beautiful.

It checks out that Ghost is lover of deadly.

Calloused, rough hands, trails up her legs and settle around her hips. His eyes flicker down to her mouth and for a moment, neither of them speak. Then she leans closer and for a moment Ghost braces himself.

"Say please." It's all teeth and a sharp teasing voice with her. Ghost stills at the command, annoying flickering its agitated flames.

Every fucking thing about her rubbed him the wrong way, made him so...out of control? Agitated? All of the above?

He swallows past the bitter taste in his throat. Weighs his options.

"Please."

He mumbles it because she always somehow manages to make him concede. She did it back then and she's doing it right now with his breath ghosting over her lips, hot and heavy.

A smirk curves her mouth. "What was that?" She whispers. "Couldn't quite hear you..." Her hands move from his collar up to the edge of his balaclava, toying with the edge. Ghost makes no move to stop her when she slowly, so achingly slowly, starts rolling the fabric up.

"I fuckin' hate you." He growls, actions and words at war.

"You're showing me a lot of love for someone who claims so." Is all she says, movements halting as the fabric bunches over his nose, laying bare the bottom half of his face. "Would you let anyone touch you like this, hmm?" Skimming her fingers over the scar on his chin, his own hands tighten around her hips at the gentle feeling. She ends up cupping his cheeks. "Because I'll tell you this, Simon-"

It's a physical reaction, the way she says his name. He straightens up instinctively and takes in a muted, sharp inhale. She leans closer, and if he only tilted his head up a fraction they'd brush lips.

"It's been a long time since I've let anyone touch me like you are."

It snaps something in him, maybe his patience or perhaps his resolve.

One hand slides up to the back of her neck, the other one yanks her out of her chair and to the floor. He crashes their mouths together in a kiss that brings an instant sort of relief. It's not sweet by any means, all clicking teeth and pulling at each other. Hands roaming and breaths shared.

Neither of them knows who pulls away first, but eventually they're left to catch their breath, their foreheads pressed together.

Then she laughs, a light, soft breeze. "You should've seen yourself back then. Looked like you wanted to flay those kids alive." She snickers.

"I did." There's no use denying it, not when this, when she, makes something curl up and settle down deep within him. As much as she riles him up, she also brings him a kind of peace that he can't describe.

Goddamn, he's so far gone. Maybe he should book in a psych eval soon...

"Never thought I'd see the day you were like this." She hums, "Wish I'd taken a video of it."

"It won't happen again, love." He shakes his head, trying and failing to push down the slightest bit of amusement. "That you can count on."

"Wanna bet?" She says cheekily, scratching at the nape of his neck with her nails gently. It makes a shiver run down his spine, the curl of her lips widens as she feels it.

"You drive me fuckin' insane, you know that?" He mumbles against her lips.

"You love it." Is all she manages to get out before he pulls her in again.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(27/07/2023)

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 32)

Uzi was working on her railgun again.

With Tera now being in a toddler body, she didn't need to be charged throughout the day anymore, once, during the night would be enough. Giving her time to work without worrying about toddler injuring herself while connected to her.

One of her eyelights were closed and her tongue was stuck out in concentration, screwing in one of the thousand capacitors lining the barrel if the railgun, it was a time consuming process, but one she easily lost herself in.

While her workshop was technically set up in the other room, she found herself wanting to be as close to her weird family as possible, besides, the dresser made for a decent desk anyway.

She'd… had strange impulses lately, they weren't bad! Not violent, just intrusive. Like for example, she had found herself wanting to groom her little toddler, yes, like a cat. Not with a brush like a normal drone. Or, possibly more strangly, she was waking up making weird noises; trills, chirps, purrs, and borderline mewls.

Thank Robo-God N was a heavy sleeper, or she was sure he would have been woken up by them.

Tera herself was laying on her back on thier bed, N beside her trying to teach her how to use her new body.

“Tera, like this!” He slowly moved his arm up and down, lifting her arm along with it, she blinked at him, as quiet as she was when she'd gotten her new body a few days ago.

“It's so weird… having her so quiet.” N sounded sad and worried as he continued to hold Tera's tiny arm, the only indication that she was present was the movement of her eyelights.

“I know… I had to force her mouth open to feed her last night, I can't really tell if she's upset or not.” Uzi replied, she paused her work for a moment, feeling just as worried but being unwilling to stew in it if she could help it.

She'd never heard of any body transfer resulting in paralysis, but Tera hadn't moved at all since they'd brought her back home, her eyelights were expressive, but her body was eerily still.

“Maybe your dad has some advice? He's the only parent we really know.” N suggested, resting his head on his arm as he continued to try and stimulate Tera's limbs, moving them up and down and trying to trigger some kind of response.

Tera only continued to stare at each limb as he moved them, although her eyelights indicated she was a least smiling, even without moving her mouth.

“Come on Tera… give daddy something… anything.” He spoke under his breath, finding worry tightening around his core, he wanted her healthy, he could hear her core still, a strong constant thrum that assured him she'd not go offline anytime soon, but he wanted her moving, to run around and explore.

She still looked too much like a corpse for him be comfortable with.

“We can go ask him, just lemme use the last of these, I've only got like, ten more.”

“Okay!”

“You hear that Jellybean? We're gonna go see grandpa.” He spoke to the still toddler, which looked up at him with scrunched eyes in response, he booped her visor, causing the eyelights to shake as if she was trying to shake her head.

She closed her eyes in strain again, her mouth twitched but didn't move much further than that, everything just felt too stiff, her eyelights turned into slight frustration.

“Well That's that box out… we're going to have to go find more.” Uzi rubbed the back of her neck as she leaned up and away from the dresser, a dull ache running down her spine, before blinking in confusion.

Her neck was warm.

She wasn't close to overheating, at least, she shouldn't have been, considering she'd just drunk some oil about an hour ago and she'd never really let herself get low. But somehow she was warmer then usual, closer to how warm N usually ran than her normal ambient temperature.

And that was… weird and concerning.

“You good?” N was very suddenly behind her and she about jumped out of her casing at his voice, she looked up at him, blinking.

“Yeah. Just… think I'm running a little warm?” There was no point in hiding this information from him, if he hadn't already noticed with his own sensors, then he would the next time he made contact with her.

“That's weird, I've seen you, you've been keeping yourself fed.” N moved from behind her to standing in front of her, holding his hand on her forehead, much like a human would when checking temperature.

“You are warm though, did you pick up a virus or something?” He suggested, moving some hair out of the way of her visor as he looked down at her, seemingly just reveling in the excuse to touch her.

“I don’t think so? I don't feel that different.”

“Hmm.”

N suddenly was on his knees, audio receptors pressed against her hoodie, right over her core, she squeaked at his sudden movement, breath caught in her throat.

“What are you… doing?”

“Listening to your core, my hearings way better than yours, maybe I can listen and see what's wrong.”

“O-okay.”

N listened for about a minute, listening for any differences in the sound of her core that he could perceive.

It sounded normal, maybe a little faster than it should be, but if she was stressed about it that would make sense.

“Perfect as always, but if you don't feel well I can go myself.”

She blushed a little at his complement, and then blushed harder as she thought more about what he said.

“As always?”

“I can always hear your core if you're close to me, I uh…” He paused and leaned back a moment, blushing deeply. “I kinda have trouble sleeping if I… can't hear it.”

“Oh N…” She certainly wasn't expecting that, but maybe she should have at this point.

“Sorry, that's kinda cheesy isn't it?” He laughed at himself as he stood up, not making eye contact as he stewed a little in embarrassment.

“Yeah. But don't you dare apologize for it.” She leaned up to nuzzle into his neck, a purr erupting out of both of them that was so intense it was vibrating them both.

N let out a happy chuckle, lifting her up into his arms to bring her closer, making both of them somehow even louder.

“What's gotten into you?” He found himself asking as he felt her tail wrap around him, as she moved farther into his neck.

A strange sound replied, a mix between a purr and growl that sent input directly from his neck into his core, his tail wagged in response, right before he felt a pinch on his neck.

“Uh… Uzi?”

“Huh?!” She immediately pulled away, blinking wildly, her eyes went to his neck, where there were two small pinpricks where her fangs had dug into the metal, already being sealed by his nanites.

“Did… did you just try to bite me?”

“I-I didn't… I'm sorry!” He was still holding her but she looked both horrified and embarrassed.

She… she'd hadn't been trying to hurt him! She'd just felt so loved and had been overtaken by just how… nice it felt. She hadn't even realized she'd been doing it!

Why did that translate to biting?

“It's okay! It didn't hurt, but… why?”

“I don't know!”

He cocked his head, confused but not upset. The pinch had startled him sure, but it didn't seem like she'd been trying to hurt him, it had almost seemed… affectionate in a strange way.

“Lets just… head to Khan’s yeah?”

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