#Luxury Quilt Bedding Set | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

verbenaa · 9 months

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air so deep and sweet

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: “You’re just utterly shameless, aren’t you?’ He tsks, “Seducing me away from my work like this.”

Astarion’s eyes rove your form laying beneath him in reverence, the silken strands of your hair spread like a halo around your face and your dress a mess around your waist.

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𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/Reader 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, fluff, slice of life! 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 7.1k 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: body worship, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, hand jobs, vampire bites, mentions/discussions of anal, vaginal sex, vampire sex, soft dom astarion

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

𝑎/𝑛: This is my first ever fanfiction despite a literal 20 years of reading them LOL i truly have lost the plot. Find me on ao3 too, my username is leadii 💕

ao3 here

masterlist

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Dim candlelight plays along the walls of Astarion’s studio, illuminating the discarded bolts of fabric leaning against the wall with haphazard grace, the threads of linens, silks, and cottons a riot of color against the muted walls. Spools of silken thread and tangles of ribbon lay sprawling across the work table, interspersed with pincushions and stray needles waiting to be threaded.

The studio itself is small, humble in its nature. Set aside on a small street within the city walls it wasn’t a far walk from your shared home, making it an easy decision to join him on the nights he decided to work.

Lush velvet draperies hang heavily across several leaded windows, while multicolored rugs layered themselves over the floor. Fat pillars of candle wax sit haphazardly upon several surfaces, filling the room with moving pockets of light, their dance helped along by the light summer breeze blowing through the open windows. It was undeniably one of your favorite places to be.

Despite Astarion’s initial claims to the contrary (if you could even call his half-hearted condescension to the concept such a thing), he was decidedly well suited for a life of domesticity. Much like a spoiled cat, he very much enjoyed his luxuries. Vials of scented oils, a soft bed covered with blankets and quilts, piles of books in the corners of rooms waiting to be read at his decision. You were very quick to learn that Astarion was nothing if not a creature of comfort. And he made it so very easy to spoil him, accepting your love and affection with open arms.

You nestle deeper into the nest of pillows that made up the corner you had decided to call your own, novel discarded beside you and your goblet of wine long emptied of its contents resting against the floorboards. With a small huff your attention turns from your surroundings to said owner of the studio, watching him weave the needle in and out of the fabric in his hands, focus intent on his art.

He had such beautiful hands, you couldn’t help but think. Hands as well-versed in sowing chaos as easily as they could thread a needle to create the tiniest of embellishments upon a single piece of silk. Hands as intimately versed in the art of death as they were in the art of drawing pleasure. Sometimes, you think, he is secretly desperate to prove that his hands no longer have to steal, cheat, or seduce for others and instead were capable to creating something soft and vulnerable for himself instead.

With a small stretch you sit yourself upright, adjusting the lovingly embroidered straps of the light linen dress you wore to compensate for the overbearing warmth of summer. You were always content to accept any creation Astarion made for you and your dress was no exception, tailored to perfection to sit on your curves perfectly with small decorations of lace and embroidery as he saw fit.

As though drawn by your thoughts, his carmine gaze glances up to meet your own. Astarion’s eyes linger upon your form as you slowly stand and stretch your arms high above your head, back arching slightly with the motion before you step to the nearest open window. A light breeze ruffles your hair as you rest your elbows on the sill, careful of the several plants currently residing there as your eyes move to watch the people below weave through the streets in the darkness.

“Dearest, do you mind lending me those ever-so-lovely eyes of yours for a moment?” His voice is a casual drawl. “I wish to seek your opinion on this particular color scheme.”

You turn to face him from your spot at the window as he gestures to the work in his hand with a small movement of his wrist, and quickly step across the floor to stop at his side. You glance down to see the wooden embroidery hoop he holds with measured regard in one hand, the other carefully grasping a small, sharp needle. You lean in slightly to see better, your breasts adding the barest of pressure against his arm.

You focus your vision upon the delicate pattern of his needlework, the threads weaving together to create an intricate pattern of scrolling vines and abundant spring blossoms in a warm milky white adorning the collar of a cream colored linen shirt, the colors almost ethereal together in their similarity.

“I hate to break this to you, but…I do believe it is simply cream upon cream,” you say with a small smile gracing your lips. “What ever is there for me to even give my opinion on?”

“It’s called monochrome, my dear.” Astarion gives you a look of affectionate exasperation before continuing, “Despite what everyone seems to think, I am capable of subtlety when the occasion permits.” You briefly turn to look at him, an elegant eyebrow arching in amusement.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs slightly before murmuring, “Certainly those pretty eyes of yours can see the differences despite the similarity of color?”

Sure enough, upon further inspection you could pick out the slightest hint of metallic gold threaded throughout the creamy colored delicate flowers and surrounding vines, the only detail differentiating the colors from one another. The subtle shine of the golden threads were mesmerizing to follow with your eyes, the candlelight bouncing off of them creating fiery highlights on the raised embroidery. Like everything Astarion touched, it was undeniably beautiful.

“I suppose it looks decent.” You tease, pressing your chest further into his arm while your attention shifts to the elegant planes of his face. He was simply so easy to admire, the way his hair always seemed to fall so perfectly into place, his mouth held soft in concentration looked so inviting.

A noise of protest leaves his lips at the mere thought his creation was only ‘decent’, and you can’t help but laugh at the reaction while leaning in to press a soft kiss to his pale cheek.

“It must be so hard to have such artistic merit, Astarion. I’m afraid such a talentless individual as myself can’t fully appreciate such craft and workmanship.” You playfully lean your body back and throw a hand up your forehead in mock distress, earning a short laugh from him.

“Despite such questionable opinions, you are far my talentless, my dear.” Astarion sets aside the hoop and needle to the far edge of the worktable and turns in his chair, settling his full attention on you.

“In fact, I would be more than willing to remind you of the several of the talents you possess.”

Slowly, he draws his eyes from your features to glance down at the twin pinprick scars decorating your neck before slowly continuing lower to finally rest on a spot above your breasts. He brings his fingertips to brush lightly against the skin, pressing against the delicate lace trim of the neckline, sweeping slowly and softly back and forth against the swells. He watches the sudden intake of your breath with interest before his eyes glide up to meet your own again.

A slow, feline smile graces his lips. “Such a distraction, dearest. Especially when you press these lovely breasts of yours into me.”

You match his smile with a sly one of your own.

“Can you blame me?” You give a half-hearted shrug, hardly caring that you had been caught in your so-called crime. “It’s quite hard to not want to be close to such a beautiful individual like yourself.”

“Ah yes, there it is. Talent number one: flattery.”

He moves the hand tracing patterns against your skin upward, glancing touches against your neck, before curling his fingers underneath your chin to bring your face closer to his own.

You knew he could easily see the effects of his relatively innocent ministrations, could view the inevitable pink beginning to decorate your cheeks.

Could smell it in the blood beginning to race through your veins.

Astarion had always known exactly what to say made you breathless and had never held back on using that knowledge to his advantage to make you weak to his whims.

“Now be a good girl and take a seat.” His voice is low, hungry; he leans forward and both his hands find your waist and pull.

You feel your body relax easily into his touch, letting him smooth your skirts out of the way as he brings you towards his waiting lap. Your hips instantly connect together, fabric the only barrier between you. You feel a telltale twitch beneath you, signaling his pleasure at the slight friction created by the connection and your hips grind against his own instinctually, the friction and pressure adding to the growing warmth deep in your belly.

Astarion leans forward, connecting his mouth with your own in a scalding kiss, moaning into your mouth as his hips roll against your own, his growing erection pressing closer to your covered center.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull yourself even closer to him as your hands card through the silver curls sitting at the back of his neck. Opening your mouth, you lick against his lips hoping he will open them for you. Astarion obliges, meeting your tongue halfway.

Your tongue brushes against a sensitive fang, drawing another moan out of him and he slowly pulls away from the kiss, lightly nipping at your bottom lip as he leaves before moving to press small, sweet kisses across your jaw.

“Would you indulge me a snack, dearest?” He presses a quick kiss followed by a small lick to the skin behind your ear, sending a shiver of pleasure down your skin.

“I suppose I could be convinced…” Breathy sighs fall from your lips as he peppers kisses down the elegant column of your neck. “Quite easily perhaps, too.”

“Will you give me a small taste, my dear?” he mouths the words against your skin, lips hot.

Your eyes fall closed at his kisses. “You know you don’t even have to ask to have my blood. I give it to you, freely, and I always will.” With a tilt of your head you grant him more access to continue his search.

“I don’t deserve you.” “Absolutely false. You deserve everything.” The words roll off your tongue with quick ease, certain you’ve never spoken truer words.

As Astarion moves the straps of your dress aside to hang off your shoulders and free the expanse of your neck and collar he finds the spot he had been looking for, laving the area with his tongue briefly before he bites down.

A split second of burning heat as his fangs dig into the flesh of your neck with as much delicacy as he can manage before he finally begins to suck, the pull of the blood leaving your body as he drinks brings a decidedly indecent moan to your lips, the heat of your core growing wetter with every draw of his mouth.

As Astarion drinks in your lifeblood in slow gulps, you feel his hands moving to the neckline of your dress and he grabs at it, pulling the fabric down across your chest, exposing more and more of you with every pull of the fabric. You had forgone a corset today in an attempt at comfort in an unending battle against humidity, trusting the bodice of your dress to instead keep your (somewhat questionable) modesty in tact.

The rush of cold air combined with the sudden brush of his chilled hands against your breasts as he lets the dress fall to hang freely around your waist draws a surprised gasp from your lips. You move your arms out of the straps before burying them again in his silver locks.

He quickly brings a free hand up to grasp a breast, brushing his thumb over a newly hardened nipple. Extricating his fangs from your neck, his tongue moves to lick up the blood tracing down from the wound, not letting a single drop go to waste.

“Such a delightful little treat,” he murmurs against your skin, lips brushing with every movement as your hips grind downward against his growing erection in slow rolls.

His lips move further down your chest, no longer following the trail of fresh blood but that of the blood in your veins leading to your heart.

Astarion presses a chaste kiss over the place where your heart beats, your back arching with the movement of his lips as he moves lower to capture a hardened peak. A soft cry at the touch of his mouth falls from your lips, the motion of his tongue drawing circles around the bud sending a flash of heat straight to your core.

He laves at the bud, alternating licks and soft bites in a bid to stoke the fire inside you even higher, his free hand coming up to massage its twin with delicate motions.

Astarion cants his hips up into yours as he sucks hard at your breast, his prominent erection pressing into your growing wetness before his mouth moves to your other breast, continuing his ministrations.

“Astarion, please, I need more.” You whine, attempting to press harder against his erection in hopes the touch will grant a reprieve from the building heat between your thighs.

“As you wish, my love.” He grants your request with a whisper, his hands falling on your thighs to support you as he moves to stand, bringing you with him. Chair pushing back with the movement, he places you on the desk in front of him as his hips spread your thighs.

Desperate to keep the connection between the two of your bodies, Astarion stands between your legs, pressing close. His hands skate up your body to land on your cheeks, tilting your face to look up at his own as a thumb brushes absentmindedly against your bottom lip. He leans down to press his lips to your forehead, your eyes, cheeks, nose, and finally your lips.

“Lay back, love,” His words are a whisper as one hand makes it way from your cheek to rest on the back of your head. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

His eyes never leave your own as your body relaxes, trusting him, and he leans you back onto the tabletop with care until your body meets the wood.

Barely breathing, you watch as his hands made their way teasingly downwards, skating over your bared breasts to find the skirt of your dress, moving to push the thin fabric tantalizingly up your thighs to settle around your waist and out of the way. Astarion’s eyes settle upon a tiny, lacy pair of panties, the fabric the only thing keeping you from being completely bared to him.

“You’re just utterly shameless, aren’t you?’ He tsks, “Seducing me away from my work like this.” Astarion’s eyes rove your form laying beneath him in reverence, the silken strands of your hair spread like a halo around your face and your dress a mess around your waist.

He was so beautiful it made your heart feel like it was going to beat out of your chest.

With bated breath, you raise a hand to draw your fingers softly over his cheek, capturing his attention.

“Promise me that you will tell me if this gets to be too much for you,” Your eyes meet his as you watch his expression fill with sudden affection at your request.

“What a sweet thing you are,” Astarion brings a hand to cover the one you had placed over his cheek. “Thank you for always taking care of me so.” With a small movement, he turns his head to bring his lips to press against your palm.

“I promise you that anything and everything I do with you is my choice.” Astarion moves the hand that covers yours to flit down your body, teasing touches over your peaked nipples, down your belly, before brushing against the line of your underwear. A sudden intake of breath escapes your lungs as he watches your stomach jump with the touch.

A smirk graces his face as he moves those same fingers lower, brushing lightly against the gusset of your underwear before pressing harder against the growing damp of the lace. His touch creates a sweet friction, your wetness mixed with the texture of the lace and the pressure of his fingers drawing a soft moan from you.

You whine as his fingers pull your underwear to the side, Astarion moving to slide his fingertips up and down your exposed slit, spreading your wetness. He makes teasing passes around the small pearl that rests above; close but never quite touching where you need him, your arousal aiding the smooth glide of his motions.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already this wet for me, darling?”

“You know I always aim to please.” The words are hard won but you manage to give him a haughty smile nonetheless, trying to maintain the last shred of willpower you have left to pretend to be unaffected.

He moves to pump a finger shallowly inside you, not nearly deep enough to provide any relief. You gasp at feeling, attempting to roll your hips in hopes to bring his finger deeper. But just as quickly as he enters he leaves, eliciting a noise of frustration from you.

“Patience, patience.” He tuts, hands moving to your hips to tug at the lace resting over them. He yanks at the fabric, and you raise you bottom to aid him in finally removing them. Astarion pockets the pair with a smug look as his hands move to spread your thighs further apart.

With every push of your thighs Astarion bares you to him, your arousal glistening against your center in the low light.

“You know, dearest, I think I would maybe like to have a taste of something else as well.” You feel your cunt clench at the prospect, adding to the building heat deep inside you.

“Consider me at your mercy, then.” A smirk from him at your blessing as he slowly lowers himself to his knees before your spread legs.

Astarion is supplicant before you as he rests his head on your upper thigh, unfairly close to where you want him most. Your hips jump in anticipation as he begins pressing tantalizingly soft kisses into the crease where your hip meets your thigh.

You feel his fingers touch you finally, delicately spreading your folds as he watches your most intimate place open for him. His thumb comes to rest against your clit, rubbing lightly at the small bud and you release a contented hum at the warmth of the pleasure inside your body growing with the movement of his fingers.

Your eyes fall shut at the sheer relief of his attention, his expertise in knowing exactly how and where to touch to drive you wild drawing a moan from you. Your hand falls from its place in his hair to land beside your head, jostling errant sewing supplies from their resting place next to you.

“Careful, darling. Watch those lovely hands of yours to not catch on a needle. I would so hate for you to bleed so needlessly.” A roguish smile alights his lips as he lowers his mouth to lick a slow stripe up your center, intent to collect as much of your wetness on his tongue as he can.

Your hand immediately finds its way back to his hair, gripping his silver curls mindlessly as he begins to work his tongue up and down your center, tracing patterns against your sex as he goes.

His tongue moves to finally circle your clit with small movements, intent to drive your pleasure higher and higher with every pass. His mouth moves lower, licking across your folds as he finds your entrance, tracing around it with agonizingly slow motions.

Astarion is quick to move a hand to rest over your belly as your hips jut up, applying soft pressure as he grows bold in his motions and his tongue moves to push inside of you. Your grip on his curls grows harder with every thrust of his tongue inside your body, head thrown back and moans growing louder as he brings you closer and closer to completion.

The hand resting on your stomach moves to press lightly at your clit, once again resuming the small circles round and around as his tongue continues its exploration deep in your core, eating you out with fervor.

Astarion continues to lave inside you, his soft tongue whorling against your walls as his fingers expertly work your clit in tandem with your cries as your hips ride his face, thighs shaking as your orgasm barrels towards you.

And it’s just like that when you cry out and finally come, his tongue moving deep inside as his finger strums your clit with practiced motions and the feeling is white-hot as you plunge into your ecstasy. He licks up your come greedily, tongue never stopping its endeavor as you ride the wave of your orgasm, breathy cries leaving your lips and hips rolling until your body finally relaxes.

Shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm, your hand falls from Astarion’s hair to rest over your eyes as your breathing begins to even out and you finally come down from the high, Astarion cleaning up your cum until you can take it no longer, hips jerking in overstimulation away from his mouth.

Astarion places a light kiss over your clit before raising up from his knees back to his full height, your slick glistening on his chin and lips in the light of the candles as his still clothed cock brushes against your empty center.

Astarion leans forward, arms caging your head as he leans down to nuzzle your cheek whispering ardent words, “Out of all the beautiful things in this room, you are by far the most gorgeous.”

His admission momentarily stuns you. Astarion had never been shy in his admirations of your beauty and while you had grown more used to them during your time together he still managed to catch you off guard with such compliments from time to time.

“Can I please touch you? Taste you?” You pant, desperation coloring your words in the wake of his earlier admission as you begin to push yourself up onto your elbows. Astarion’s hand comes down and gently presses on your chest instead, and you lower yourself back down at the gentle command in the gleaming red of his eyes.

“You can put that clever mouth of yours to use later, my dear. I have other plans for you, I think.” His eye rove your features before pressing his mouth upon yours in a fevered kiss, his tongue licking against your lips asking for entry. You can taste the essence of yourself on his lips and groan at the taste, opening yours to tangle his tongue with your own.

Astarion deepens the kiss as his hands find your own and grasping them gently, he brings them down his body to rest upon his still-clothed cock.

“You said you wanted to touch. Indulge me, lover.” His lips never leave your own as he speaks the words, tongue sneaking out to lick at your bottom lip.

Your hands spring to action immediately to palm his cock through his leather pants before you find the laces holding him and undo them with deft fingers familiar with the task.

Astarion’s thick cock springs free of the confines of the pants and your fingers find the beads of precum decorating the tip and spread the wetness down his length. your fingers glide from top to bottom in smooth motions over the veined velvet of him, his essence aiding your ministrations as his mouth falls open from the sheer indulgence of your touch. His head falls heavily onto your shoulder and his lips move over the spot he fed from earlier, kissing and licking the area as your hands work him closer to closer to the edge.

Lifting a hand from him you bring your fingers to your own wetness, drawing your fingertips through your slick before pumping two of them inside yourself in an imitation of his own motions earlier as you moan at the feeling.

Astarion glances down to see your fingers buried in your own cunt, the sight making him go impossibly harder as he watches you briefly pleasure the both of you. With a whine, your fingers leave your body to return to Astarion, a mixture of your arousal and come coating your fingers as your spread it onto his waiting cock, increasing your rhythm to rub him faster.

“Gods Above, you really are something else.” His pupils are blown out in lust as he groans at both the sight and feel of your hands working his shaft, one hand massaging the crown of his cock while the other works him closer to the base in quick motions.

A wicked thought strikes your mind, and you almost feel badly for even entertaining the idea. Almost.

You can feel his breath fanning your neck with every pass of your hands, his moans growing more unrestrained as your ministrations draw him to edge of completion. Without warning you withdraw your hands from his weeping cock, cruelly denying him the climax he was so close to.

Astarion’s head flies up from where it rests on your shoulder as a noise of disbelief leaves his lips and he shoots you a look of pure shock. The knowledge you caught him so unaware has you riding another kind of high, one you rarely had the privilege of reveling in.

“You little minx! Who knew you were capable of such cruelty. You’re going to pay for that, you know.”

Mischief settles on your features. “Maybe that was the goal.”

“Ask and you shall receive, little love. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” His lips curve with a devilish grin, eyes glinting in the candlelight as his hands move to grip your waist, fingertips pressing hard into the soft skin.

“How should I make you pay for it, then?” He muses. “Should I shove my cock into that tight, sweet cunt of yours and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to stand? Or maybe I should make good use of that wicked little mouth of yours and fill it instead?”

His darkening eyes bore into your own, your cheeks heating at his suggestions as you shift under his contemplation.

“You do look quite beautiful like that, you know. Mouth stretched around me as I fuck your throat. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You give an enthusiastic nod at the prospect, excited for whatever punishment he deems appropriate to hand out.

Without warning, you feel the hands upon your waist move to lift you up and flip you over, your stomach making contact with the table as your bare breasts press tight against the wood grain. His hand comes to rest in the center of your back, pushing you further into the surface. You move your head to rest your cheek upon the table, the coolness of the wood a welcome sensation to the quickly rebuilding heat inside you as your eyes glance up to meet his own in curiosity.

“Too bad. I have another idea instead.” His voice is deep with promise.

Such trouble you had gotten yourself into, it seems.

Cool hands move from your back to the forgotten skirt of your dress to flip it upward to rest around your waist once more, exposing your ass and glistening center to the warm air.

Astarion brings his hand down hard against one of your cheeks, the sharpness of the spank making you cry out as surprise and pleasure mingle into one. He rubs the growing red mark left on your skin before bending down to press a his lips to it, soothing the area with barely-there kisses.

He brings both hands to your ass now, rubbing soothing circles over the area before moving to pull your rear cheeks apart, allowing Astarion to see absolutely everything.

A wave of embarrassment hits you to be put on such display for his vision despite his knowledge of your body, and you fidget slightly under his intent gaze of your most intimate areas.

“Astarion…” you let out a moan and he is quick to shush you as he moves a hand off your asscheek to brush his thumb in light circles over your asshole.

“Maybe I should take you here instead, I know how much you love when I play with your pretty ass.” His voice is deep, eyes impossibly dark.

“Oh fuck,” His words draw a ragged moan from your lips at the mere thought, setting your neglected pussy on fire with need.

“Prove to me you can be a good girl.” His thumb applies soft pressure before it leaves you to be replaced by his lips. He presses a soft kiss to the tight hole before kissing downwards and licking deep into your cunt without warning, lapping at your waiting wetness.

“Gods, Astarion…” your hips press backwards towards his waiting mouth. “Whatever you want, wherever you want, my love. I’ll do anything. I just want you inside of me.” Your voice is hoarse with need, no longer caring to win this little game you had started.

You feel Astarion’s mouth leave your pussy and whine at the loss, but he is quick replace your empty cunt with two of his elegant fingers instead, sliding them in and out at slow, measured pace.

“Do you think I should let you come one more time before I fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk properly?” You are helpless to do anything other than nod your head in insistence, hoping he won’t rob you of your orgasm the way you had done to him. “I don’t know if you deserve it yet.”

Astarion slowly pulls his fingers out of your body only to add a third finger on the plunge back in, drawing a cry from your lips at the sudden fullness.

His fingers push deep and curl inside of you pressing against that special spot over and over again, driving you to new heights as the lightest veil of tears begins to dust your lashes at the sheer bliss of the feeling.

Noticing the tears, you feel Astarion immediately stop his ministrations and lean over your back to look into your eyes with concern, a noise of protest at the lack of motion falls from your mouth as his fingers slowly leave your body to rest on your hip, brushing calming circles on your skin.

“Is this too much, love?” Any trace of his teasing dominance is gone from his voice as he speaks the words to you clearly, looking intently for any indication you needed him to step back from the scene the two of you had created. “We can stop, darling, if you need to. I don’t want you to push yourself too far to please me.”

You smile at genuine concern evident on his face, blinking away the sheen of tears.

Pushing your hips back into him with as much motion as you can manage in your prone position against the table, you lean your body up in hopes to press a kiss to his lips. Astarion leans in, mouth quick to meet you halfway in a kiss as his spare hand moves to cup your cheek.

“The only thing you are pushing is my patience, love. Please don’t stop.” You beg, hoping he will acquiesce to your desire to continue as you lower your body back down onto the table. “The only thing I want in this moment is to come so hard I can’t think straight and then to have that beautiful cock of yours inside of me in whatever way you wish to give it to me.”

“Insatiable. Who taught you such language?” His body follows yours down, back pressing against your own as his lips brush against yours as he speaks the words, the concern leaving his eyes replaced with mounting desire.

“Believe me, there is nothing I want more than to be buried deep inside you,” The hand on your hip makes its way back towards your center. “Make me the same promise I made you earlier.”

The words come to your mouth effortlessly.

“I promise you that anything and everything I do with you is my choice.” You recite the words softly, with ease.

Quieter now, you whisper. “I trust you, Astarion.”

You know how much your words and trust mean to him, can see it in his unguarded expression. Astarion didn’t put much trust in the Gods, but he would never stop thanking whichever one it was that brought your paths together. His fingers gently graze your pussy, ringing around your entrance with soft, teasing touches.

“I love you.” Astarion says before pressing his lips firmly to your own, those same three fingers finally slipping back inside.

Astarion renews the pace of his fingers right away, pressing and curling with precise motions meant to bring you to the brink.

You give into the sensation of every movement of his fingers, mouth open and eyes falling shut at the feeling and it’s not long before he has you once again close to your orgasm.

“Please, don’t stop,” you whimper as your thighs begin to shake.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Astarion brings his other hand down your body to brush lightly against your clit. He sounds as lost in desire as you feel. “Want to feel you come on my hand. Can you do that for me, sweet thing?”

His words have you clenching hard on his fingers, the pressure of them against your insides combined with the fingers of his other hand brushing light, concentric circles over your clit have you coming within moments of his request.

“Such a good girl to give me what I want so easily.” You barely hear the words that fall from his lips through the haze of your ongoing orgasm, the feeling of his breath on the skin of your ear serving to only enhancing the moment.

Your body spasms around his fingers and cries of ecstasy fall from your lips as he continues, working you through your orgasm while his lips press soothing kisses anywhere his lips can reach—your face, your neck, the tip of your ear.

“That’s it. You always look so beautiful when you come for me.”

Slowly, finally you feel your body begin to relax through the haze of your orgasm. Your mind comes back to you and you release a small laugh as your breath starts to even out, feeling him leave your body. Without breaking eye contact, he brings the fingers that had filled you so deeply to his mouth and licks them clean. The sight of it sends a wave of heat right back to your cunt, a shudder of anticipation running through you.

“I think you already succeeded in your wish to make me unable to stand.” You pant.

“And to think I haven’t even fucked you yet.” His cock is hard as his eyes scan your form from the flesh of your core to the flush of your cheeks, your eyes glassy with a haze of lust.

“I think I want to fuck you just like this.” He whispers into your ear as his hands run soothingly over your back. “I like you this, on display as you wait for me.” You desperately attempt to push your hips back to brush against his uncovered cock, looking for any bit of friction.

You watch him from your place on the table, the lithe way his body moves as he takes off his luxurious silk shirt to expose his chest.

His beauty was almost otherworldly as the dancing candlelight illuminates the carved marble of his skin, light and shadow creating a moving chiaroscuro upon the planes of his body.

He looked like a god.

“You are so beautiful.” Your words are a mere whisper as he moves his thick cock to finally brush against your center, slicking himself in your spend as the tip catches against your clit, drawing twin moans from you both.

Grabbing your hips, Astarion positions himself at your entrance and begins to slowly push inside, so familiar with your body he barely needs to guide his cock.

His head drops to press a kiss to your shoulder before righting himself again, hissing in pleasure at the feeling of your walls closing around him as he slides in, your wetness aiding him as he bottoms out and his hips press hard against your own.

Low moans escape you at the sheer feeling of his cock stretching and sliding home and your hands move grasp for purchase on the desk as he slowly begins to rock back and forth.

“If only you could see yourself now,” His voice is deep as he watches himself pull his cock out of your body almost completely, only the head left resting shallowly inside you before pushing forward with a hard thrust, hitting a place so deep you let out a ragged cry at the feeling.

“Gods, Astarion, just like that.” He fucks you hard, the force of his thrusts pushing you back and forth with small motions, breasts pressing hard against the wood of the table as one of your hands finds his own still holding your hips. You grab at his wrist in hopes he will take it, needing to touch more of him. Sensing your need Astarion takes your hand, bringing it to his lips to press a soft kiss on the back of it before resting your joined hands on your lower back.

“No one takes my cock like you,” He pants through his thrusting. “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

Supplications fall from his lips as he moves in and out of your body, showering you with worship as if you were his own private deity. His words further kindle the rising flame inside your belly, every touch of his cock against your walls serving to push you closer and closer to your third orgasm.

“Only you,” you pant, hips canting back into his own to match the rhythm of his thrusts. “No one else.”

You feel so incredibly full with your body positioned like this, every movement of his cock has him pressing hard against your sweet spot, the feeling like heaven as cries fall from your lips.

“I love how wet you get for me, darling,” Astarion can feel you tighten around him as you grow nearer to your orgasm, your body trembling and cunt pulsing with pleasure as your hips drive back into his own. The feeling of you so close to your orgasm has hips losing their rhythm, his eagerness at the two of you reaching your end together driving him to move harder with every press inside you.

You love seeing him, feeling him like this. His hips finally moving with wild abandon, chasing pure instinct as he moves fast and deep inside your body. A hand comes up to settle in your unbound hair, softly gripping the silk-like strands in his fingers and in his passion he pulls softly, the motion lifting your head. His lips lower to your ear as his back presses fully against your own, the feeling of his cock moving even deeper inside you unmatched. Between his chest against your back and his cock moving so deep he was practically rutting inside, you were almost certain your cunt had never felt so full. Breathless whimpers escape your mouth at the feeling, eyes closing in complete ecstasy as the sound of his own moans against your ear leaves your cunt clenching hard as he hits your g-spot over and over again with each deep thrust.

“Beg for it. Beg for me to let you cum.”

And beg you do.

“Please, Astarion!” A chorus of pleas rise from your throat voicing your desperation as his tongue licks the shell of your ear, the hand in your hair tightening slightly with every word and moan that falls from your lips.

You can barely think as you feel your orgasm careen towards you, unintelligible in your words as you lose yourself in the feeling of your bodies. Astarion’s cock hits that deep inside spot at your front wall once more, and you finally let go, orgasm taking over your body, stars behind your eyes in all-consuming pleasure. You recognize Astarion nearing his own end, his hips rutting into yours as you ride out your orgasm on his cock, cunt squeezing him in a vice. He comes with a drawn-out moan as he paints your insides with his cum, hips shuttering until his thrusts slow down.

Astarion stays inside you, cock softening as he rubs his hands up and down your sides as you both come down from your high, his cold cheek pressed against your shoulder. With deep breaths you take air so heavy and sweet with your shared lust into your lungs, the weight of Astarion on your back an anchor to the world.

With one final pump Astarion pulls himself from your body, watching as your empty cunt weeps with a mixture of his and your own cum. Before he can stop himself, he reaches two fingers up to catch the cum on his fingertips, gently pushing it back inside you before it can fall out onto the table resting below your hips.

“Wouldn’t want you to waste a single drop, my love.”

You whine and buck your hips, overstimulated after coming so many times in a row. With one last press of his fingers, he leaves your cunt, leaning forward to place a kiss on the small of your back.

Astarion grabs a discarded piece of silk off the table beside your head and he gently wipes at the mess that threatens to leave your body before cleaning his own spent cock. As your breathing returns to its normal pace, you push yourself up slightly.

“Silk. Really, Astarion?”

“Only the best for you, my love.” Astarion is quick to help you off the table, steadying you as you sway slightly after being in the same position for so long. He presses a kiss to your lips as he helps pull your dress back up over your breasts and into place.

“I would ask if I was too rough, but I know you better than that.” His remark makes you laugh as you lean into him, throwing your arms around his neck with a wide smile.

“You know, I think I’m missing a tiny piece of my clothing,” Your eyebrows raise as you gesture to his pocket where a tiny piece of darkened lace sticks out from. "You wouldn’t happen to know where it is, would you?”

“Why bother?” Astarion gives a casual shrug as he waves off your query. “I’m just going to take them off of you again when we get home.”

He stuffs the underwear in question deeper into his pocket, patting it securely before flashing you a crafty smile.

“After all, I haven’t even had my dinner yet.” He leans in, setting your heart aflame with a passionate kiss before grabbing your hand to lead you out the door and into the waiting night.

#i have lost my mind and i have no regrets #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x female tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #my writing

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antiquatedplumbobs · 1 year

Text

Antiquated Brindleton

An 1890s Decades Challenge Save File

This save has been almost a year in the making, but it's finally here! It includes a completely rebuilt Brindleton Bay inspired by historic New England towns and set in the 1890s. This save uses a light amount of historical cc and most of the packs.

Download and details under the cut:

SAVE DETAILS:

Includes:

Eight new residential lots

Seven new community lots

Six new households

Builds and households are all located in Brindleton Bay. The world is intended to be historically accurate to about 1890, though some liberties for functionality have been taken.

Builds in other worlds have been deleted. The necessary buildings, like dorms, active career lots, and the high school, have all been left in place.

Townies have been evicted, but not deleted, as I prefer EA townies to fully randomized townies.

If you’d like more period appropriate townies to add, the lovely @jewishsimming has some great historical ones to download and @cowplant-snacks has an amazing tutorial on how to manage your townies with MCCC.

REQUIREMENTS: I have all the packs except Batuu and some of the kits. I didn’t limit myself when building. I don’t have everything listed out here, but I will be uploading all the lots and households to my gallery, so if you’d like to know specific pack usage you’ll be able to check there. If you load in and things are replaced or missing and you think it looks obvious feel free to message me, I’m always happy to try to help you find something else that fits! This save includes historical CC, some is included in my download in folders and some you will need to download from the creators directly. The CC required is listed and linked below, you need to download these linked pieces in ADDITION to the included cc folders.

CC To Download:

@lilis-palace

FOLKLORE Set

@s-imagination

Cottage Kitchen Stuff Pack

@happylifesims

1840s Suspenders Outfit

1900s Male Hunting Fashion

1920s Nightgown

Piteous Outfit

Sylas Fashion Set

Wilbur Outfit

@satterlly

Medieval Nightgown Della

@vroshii

Functional Tennis Set

@vampireloreskill

Antique Standing Camera

Creators Whose CC I Included:

@ameyasims (Better Than a Bush Outhouse, Victorian Swimwear)

@buzzardly28 (Multiple women’s hairs)

@chereindolente (Sacco Chore Coat, Edwardian Child Clothes)

@gilded-ghosts (Boudoir Belle, Victorian Visions, New Woman)

@jewishsimming (Off The Grid Objects, CAS items)

@linzlu (Assorted CAS and BB items)

@the-melancholy-maiden (Victorian Hair and Hat)

@nolan-sims (Potbelly Stove Set)

@pandorasimbox (Get To Church Pack, Azariah’s Sack Suit, Antique Slipper Tub, Heirloom Silhouette Portraits)

@peacemaker-ic (Simple Siding Wall Set, Luxurious Single Bedding V2)

@plumbobteasociety (Some BB and CAS items from the Cottage Garden Pack, HSL Happy Birthday Set)

@twentiethcenturysims (Langtree Hair, Historical High Chair, Quilts for Kids)

@waxesnostalgic (Sportswear Separates, Peterpan Bodysuit)

Thank you to all of these wonderful creators, your historical cc creations make this game a million times better to play and I appreciate all of you so very much. Recommended but not required mods:

Timeless by @pandorasimbox

Default Map Replacements by Deshayan (if you’d like your map to look like mine does in the preview)

Victorian NPC Replacements and Llama Scouts Historical Replacements by @cowplant-snacks

Home Regions by Kuttoe

DOWNLOAD: There are five zipped folders to download, four of which contain included cc, and one which includes the save itself.

Download the "AB_SaveFile" folder, unzip it and simply move the file inside to your saves folder inside your Sims 4 folder (where your mods folder is located).

The included cc is in four folders (to allow for easier upload/download) for build, buy, clothing, and hair. Simply download the folders, unzip them, and place them in your mods folder.

After this you should be good to load up your game and get playing, let me know if you run into any issues, I'm happy to try to troubleshoot. SFS | Google Drive THANK YOU: To all my amazing testers: @epistolarysims @aheathen-conceivably @cowplant-snacks and especially @simadelics who edited my household and build descriptions.

If you use this save file, please tag me in any photos you take, I want to see them all!! This save has been my baby for so very long and I cannot wait to see what you all do with it!

@maxismatchccworldrld @mmoutfittersters

#ts4 save file #sims 4 save file #save file #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 build #sims 4 build #ts4 historical #sims 4 historical #sims 4 history challenge #ts4 history challenge #antiquatedbrindleton

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daydreams-after-dark · 6 months

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Blindfolds | Chan x Reader x mystery man (Minho)

chan x fem reader x minho.

Chan helps you fulfil your fantasy of having a "stranger" sleep with you

Word count: I think about 3k?

MDNI . Content warning below.

————- WARNINGS: unsafe sex, threesome, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal fingering, blowjob, orgasm, slight choking, cum eating, mystery sex, blindfold—————-

You walk down the dimly lit hallway towards one of the unused bedrooms in the holiday house you and your friends were staying at. You and your best friend, Chan decided the scenario will take place in a space that no one is using, to really maximize the mysteriousness of it the whole thing.

Butterflies are going crazy in your stomach, and you tug your satin robe tighter around your waist to try to settle them down. You feel rather sexy and feminine in the robe, the cream floral print against a gold background makes you feel like a queen.

You approach the designated door and knock.

“Come in.” Chan's voice calls from the inside. You swallow hard and push open the door.

You're immediately taken aback. The room is stunning. The decor is dark and moody, with the walls painted a dark grey blue, and the furniture looks as though it’s antique. Paintings of abstract naked women have been hung around the room.

There are various stained-glass lamps, emanating a seductive glow, and there is music playing low in the background. It sounds like French music. A woman’s voice seductively fills the room.

Then there’s the bed. Huge, King sized, so plush and high set. Chan is laying propped up against the dark timber headboard, he almost looks lost leaning amongst the generous number of over sized plush pillows. He’s wearing black tracksuit pants and a muscle tee. It looks out of place in such a sensually styled room.

“What do you think?” Chan gestures around the room.

“Th- this,” you stammer. “It’s amazing Chan.” You move towards the bed, stretching out your hand to touch the dark green quilt. It’s luxurious on your fingertips as you run your hand along the fabric and move closer to the head of the bed. The only thought going through your head is: Someone’s going to fuck you on this.

You perch on the side of the bed facing away from Chan, your feet barely reaching the floor. That's when you notice the black blindfold laid out neatly on the bedside table. Next to it is a bottle of coconut oil.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” Chan reaches out to touch your hand that’s resting beside you on the bed.

You inhale deeply and then slowly release the breath. How are you feeling? It’s a mixture of feelings really. You're so very nervous. That you already know. But, you're also… excited. The idea of what’s about to happen is truly thrilling to you.

You can't believe your best friend Chan agreed to help you fulfil this fantasy. Of being blindfolded and fucked by a mystery person.

Chan smiles “We gotta get you ready!” He practically jumps off the bed and moves around to the side of the bed, taking your hand and helping you slide off the bed.

You've already discussed the details of how you're going to do this, covering safe words and safe gestures, what positions we are going to be in. These had been relayed to the mystery person who was going to be participating. The man coming to fuck you wouldn't be a stranger though. It was one of seven other men, that Chan knows extremely well. You've met them all too, and to be fair, you'd be thrilled to have any of them fuck you.

You stand in front of Chan facing away from him. There is tension in the air and your breath feels wobbly. He steps closer to you, and you can feel his breath on your neck and a pang in your chest. You'd really wish he'd kiss you. Chan doesn't know how much you actually want him. But he's never shown any signs of wanting you as more than a friend. He slowly reaches around, careful not to touch you too much, you wish he would, and pulls at your robe’s rope-tie.

It comes loose easily allowing your robe to fall open. Chan delicately pulls your robe off your shoulders letting it drop to the floor. You hadn’t put any underwear on, and now you're standing completely naked in front of Chan. And only Chan.

It feels extremely intimate and you're feeling self conscious. He hasn’t been this close to your naked body before. Goosebumps form on your skin. It isn’t cold in the room. Chan had thought of that too and had made the room a comfortable temperature. He’s so fucking considerate. You smile to myself.

You close your eyes and compose yourself. Fuck. You're really doing this.

Chan takes your hand again and grabs the blindfold in the other. He steadies you as you climb onto the bed where he resumes the position of laying down and propped up against a pillow and headboard. He directs you to sit between his legs facing away from him, and carefully he places the blindfold over your eyes and securing it at the back of your head. Your senses immediately heighten. This feels so erotic.

“Lean back on me.” He whispers as he guides you to lean back onto his fully clothed body. You can feel his hard, toned muscles flexing underneath you and his breathing is strained. Is he nervous? You can feel an erection beginning to dig into your back. Is this turning him on?

You imagine what this must look like, your exposed, naked body with Chan’s strong legs on either side of yours. You don’t know what to do with your hands so you rest them on your stomach. You don’t know where Chan’s arms and hands are, only that they aren’t touching you. You wish he’d wraps his arms around you. You wish he’d caress your body.

For a moment you try to imagine what it would be like if he did touch you. The sensation of him cupping your breasts, pinching a nipple, sliding his hands over your body. Then you remember why you're here, for a mystery fuck. A small moan escapes you. Did he hear you?

Chan nuzzles his face into your neck, resting his chin on your left shoulder. He's so close. “You already imagining a stranger inside you, hmm?” he whispers. You whimper. His voice turns you on beyond belief.

You don’t have chance to answer because there is a knock on the door. You suck in a breath. This is actually happening.

“Come in.” Chan calls out. You hear the door creak open and then close.

“Are you ready to begin?” whispers Chan in your ear.

“Mmm hmm, yes.” you reply.

“Good, because I think you are going to really enjoy this.”

He takes hold of your hands and places them on the bed either side of your body, using his hands to hold them down out of the way so you can’t go ahead and touch your anonymous lover. You had requested this. It makes you feel like you're being forcefully held in place, although you know you can change things if you want.

You feel the mattress dip slightly. Someone is climbing onto the bed near your feet. Who can it be? Is it Changbin? Or could it be Minho? Felix? Could it be Jisung?

A hand touches your ankle. You shudder, then very slowly and delicately it makes it way up to the side of your knee. Their touch is light and feathery. You swallow.

Then you feel a mouth, a moist, plush mouth just above your knee. You think he is about to take the kisses up your leg, but instead takes his kisses back down, making his way down to your ankle. It feels so sensual. Who do these lips belong to?

Chan releases your arms for just a moment so he can lift your legs over each of his legs, which are spread out wide on the bed. Then he goes back to gently pinning your hands to the mattress.

You sense the other man moving closer and a mouth reappears on your skin. This time it’s your inner right thigh. He drags his tongue from inside your leg near your knee all the way up your inner thigh, sending tingles through your body, but he stops before he gets anywhere near your pussy. He does this again, and then mirrors the action with your other leg.

His hands try to push your legs a little wider and Chan assists by moving his own legs wider again, forcing your legs to part just a little more. You're ready, wide open for whatever you're about to receive.

The touching stops, but you can feel him kneeling in front of you. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly in anticipation.

You're pleasantly startled when you feel a warm liquid landing on your breasts. The oil. Chan must have warmed it up somehow in preparation. You moan at the sensation of the oil dripping down around and between your breasts. You suck your breath between your teeth when you feel a pair of hands cupping your breasts, then squeezing and massaging the flesh in slow, but firm circles.

His hands slide easily over your oiled skin, and you squeal slightly when he squeezes your nipples. As the pinches and flicks become more aggressive you can’t help but arch your back and rock your hips at the sensation.

Chan shushes you. “We need to stay still and take it, remember what we agreed to?” That’s right, part of this was you needed to stay as still as possible, it was all part of being restrained. You compose yourself and stop moving. It’s so difficult but you're determined to play the part properly.

“Good girl.” Chan growls low. Good girl? You love those words.

More warm oil is applied to your stomach. There is so much that it coats your entire abdomen and runs down towards your core, and trickles down where your pussy lips meet. You feel bad for the bedding, it’s probably going to be a mess.

It feels so fucking sexy with your body being this slick and slippery. You feel like a goddess being worshipped and adored, yet at the same time you feel like a dirty whore who doesn’t care who fucks her.

You wait for the hands to return to your body, anticipating them all over your stomach and you moan and pant with the need to be touched now. You're desperate and on the verge of begging.

“Pl-please… please touch me.” you say.

“He wants you to call him ‘Sir’”, Chan whispers.

“Please touch me again… Sir.” you pant.

You let out a long, low moan as he pours the oil at the top of your pussy. It runs down through your lips and onto your asshole. You can’t help but try to wriggle with pleasure and frustration. Chan squeezes your hand, a reminder that you need to stay still. You don’t know where his hands will land next and the anticipation is pure agony.

The stranger lifts your legs up bending them so your knees are up near your chest. Chan removes one of his hands from yours to grip under your knee to help pin it against your chest, whilst the other man pins your right leg.

You feel the heel of a hand press firmly against your clit and begin to move in circular motions, much like they did with your breasts. It provides a grinding sensation that shoots pleasure deep inside of your abdomen.

“Fuck that feels so good… Sir.” you whimper as his hand swirls and presses on you for what feel like and eternity.

He then drags two fingers beginning at your clit all the way down to your asshole, dragging the oil and your slickness all the way down. Your cunt clenches as his fingers pass by the entrance, not stopping to explore. He presses a finger to your rim.

“Aaaah!!” you gasp at the sensation of the pressure.

He massages his finger against you, and you know you're going to open up easily for him. You are so aroused and so slick from yourself and the oil that it doesn’t take much for the tip of his finger to breech the entrance. You grip the sheets with your hands and pant shallow breaths as his finger slips in deeper, deeper, all the way in.

“You’re being so good for him.” Chan’s words of praise in your ear make you melt around the stranger’s finger and you're ready for more.

“Sir… please.. I need… can you put in another finger?”

He slowly removes his finger and you feel two fingers at your rim now. He pushes them in, going ever so slowly. It’s a stretch but he’s moving slowly enough that you're adjusting along the way, making the stretch feel achingly good. He must be experienced at this sort of thing. He knows exactly what to do.

You bring your left arm up and wrap it around Chan’s neck, as whispers words of encouragement in your ear.

The volume of your moans and whimpers grow so loud now that it’s drowning out the sound of the French woman’s singing. The man moves his fingers in and and out of your ass maintaining a relentlessly slow pace. The burning sensation with every drag of his fingers makes you cry out.

“Faster… harder… Sir I need… more.”

He quickly builds up the pace. Chan releases your hand to bring his hand to your neck, wrapping it around your throat and squeezing slightly but not enough to cut off air. Then he brings his thumb up to your lips. You open your mouth allowing him to slip his thumb inside. You pull at the hair on the back of his head and he pushes his thumb further into your mouth. The other man continues to fuck your ass with his fingers.

A mouth lands on your pussy. His tongue swirls around and through your lips. The tip of his tongue slides inside of you. Chan starts to fuck your mouth with his thumb, pushing it deep into your mouth roughly. You want him to ruin you.

You're practically screaming from the glorious agony, your senses are on overload.

Chan removes his thumb. “Is this okay?” he checks in with you.

“Yes… But… I want his cock now.”

“Ahhh yes, I bet you do. Let’s sort you out, yeah?”

The fingers inside your ass are removed and you feel the man shift his position.

His thighs press against the underside of yours. Then… you feel the tip of a cock. He pushes it against your opening, making you let out a pathetic whine. Your body is begging for him to push his cock in.

But he doesn't push it in. Moments pass and still nothing happens. What is happening? A sense of panic makes it’s way into your body. Has he changed his mind?

“He wants to know if we can take the blindfold off?” Chan asks.

You pause. He hasn’t changed his mind. You quickly decide what you want to do. Whoever it is wants you to be right there with him, making this moment together. Not him fucking you, but you fucking each other.

You bite your bottom lip. “Okay.” you say shakily. Your breath quickens at the thought of coming face to face with the man who has been pleasuring you so amazingly.

Chan takes over holding your right leg up and two hands come to rest on the sides of your blindfold, the tip of his cock slips into you slightly as he leans in towards you, giving you a tease of what’s to come. You can’t wait until he is all the way inside.

Your blindfold slides off but your vision is slightly blurry. You blink to adjust your eyes and the man before you becomes clear.

Minho.

He is looking at you expectantly, nervously, like you might run away at the sight of him.

You reach up and cup his face. His cheeks are flushed and lips pink and swollen. He isn’t even being the one fucked right now but he looks like he is.

“Hey.” you say with a dazed smile.

“Hey.” He replies. “Is this okay…do you want to keep…”

You wrap an arm around his waist and pull him down on top of you. His hands reach around to your ass and he lifts your hips up and pushes himself all the way inside of you.

Minho is finally free to make noises now and he makes long low moans as he rocks his hips into you. He looks down to where you're joined to watch his cock glide in and out.

You still have one arm wrapped around Chan’s neck, your other explores Minho’s body. His toned body undulates like some sort of exotic python. He’s even more skilled with his cock than with those magic fingers. He brings his mouth down onto yours mirroring his tongue with his thrusts. A skilled, diligent lover.

You melt together as his long, languid thrusts become deeper and you’re being pressed into Chan’s hard cock.

Without warning, Minho pulls out and flips you over in one fluid move so that you’re on all fours.

You look to the head of the bed and see Chan’s hard erection inside his sweat pants. You’re about to reach for it when you’re dragged down the bed by Minho. You look into Chan’s eyes longingly as you’re being pulled out of reach and he just stares back at you. You want to please him so badly.

Minho pushes his cock back inside of you making you cry out. Pleasure washes over you, mixing with the angst of yearning for Chan. He slides his thumb over your asshole and presses it inside. “Ahhh.. Yes, Minho.” You cry, squeezing your eyes tight.

He pushes it in all the way and rests his palm and fingers on your tail bone. His grip is perfect to rock you on and off his cock. You love feeling so filled up. You’re so close now.

Chan looks fucked out, like he’s on another planet. His engorged, swollen red cock is now out of his pants and in his hand, but he’s not doing anything with it. He’s just holding it absentmindedly. His eyes glazed over as he stares at you.

Minho must notice him too. “Kitten?” he pants. “Do you want to help Chan out? Make him come?”

You look at Chan eagerly. You’re practically salivating.

“Come over here Chan. It’s okay.” Minho encourages Chan over but he doesn’t move. “Before I cum.” He adds, hoping that will spur him on.

Chan, as if possessed, gets up onto his knees and crawls his way towards you. Once he is close enough he offers you the head of his cock and you take hold of it with one hand and guide him into your mouth. Chan whimpers at the touch. You lick your tongue along his shaft and over the tip before taking him deep into your mouth.

“Oh fuck!” Chan whines high pitched.

“Don’t use your hands. Make him work for it.” Minho growls.

You do as you’re told and release your grip but keeping him in your mouth.

Something in Chan snaps. He grabs the back of your head and starts plunging his cock into your mouth relentlessly. He tangles his fingers in your hair as he fucks your face without restraint. It makes you gag. It’s hard to take him and your eyes water.

You look up at him, he’s staring at you while his cock thrusts into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, making you almost choke. Seeing Chan using you like this while Minho pounds into you from behind, is all too much.

You cry out around Chan’s cock as your legs shake and your cunt clenches around Minho. Your arms and legs buckle underneath you but Minho is there to hold you steady. He wraps an arm underneath you, keeping you in position.

Minho suddenly pulls out, painting your back in his cum with a long moan.

Chan growls and moans and pulls his cock out to massage his release into your waiting mouth and tongue. There is so much, coating your tongue and dribbling down your chin. He leans back onto his heels, shaking as he watches you swallow everything in your mouth, and then use your fingers to scoop the remaining cum on your chin and licking your fingers clean. He looks horrified and startled. Oh shit, have you done something wrong?

Chan quickly gets off the bed and pulls up his trackpants. “Fuck. I am so sorry.” He is so flustered.

“I’ll get the towels.” Minho announces and hops off the bed.

“Chan?” You whimper. He doesn’t seem to hear you. He’s is freaking out. “Chan!” You repeat, “I need you to hold me.”

Chan looks down at you, as though he is scared. What is going through his mind? Cautiously, he edges closer to the bed and sits beside you. You’re still in an all fours position waiting to have your back wiped clean, but you kneel up to let Chan wrap his arms around you. You nuzzle into his chest. Why is he so upset with you?

You feel him relax against you and he strokes your hair. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.” He whispers over and over. You don’t understand. You fucking loved that he did that to you. You’ve wanted it for so long.

“Oh Channie!” You cry. “I fucking want you, you idiot!”

Chan looks at you warily. “Really?”

You reach up and cup his cheek. “Yes.” You whisper, your eyes dropping to his lips. He closes the gap capturing you in a heated kiss. “Stay with me tonight, Chan.”

“Of course, baby girl. Of course."

Minho returned, cleaned you up and helped you and Chan hop into bed.

"I'm glad you two have finally got your act together." he said laughing as he said goodnight and left you and Chan to snuggle together.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itshannjisung @kangnina @weareapackofstrays

#chan smut #minho smut #skz smut #chan x reader #minho x reader #sorshas fic

176 notes · View notes

astroboots · 1 year

Text

Issue #11

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Miguel brings you gifts.

Word count: 3,600

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

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Stark’s courier service arrives at your hotel the following day, a crew of four brawny looking men dressed in overalls, carrying in some 13 boxes of equipment, which take up the majority of the floor space of your luxury suite.

It finds residence in the seating area of the hotel room. Fancy looking gadgets of shiny chrome and colorful LED lights that look like they were stolen from the movie set of Back to the Future.

Miguel sets up shop, turning the pink girly vanity dressing table into an impromptu workbench. It’s where he’s been seated most of the last 36 hours, hunched over the tiny little table tinkering with the watch and various futuristic looking mechanical gears at all hours of the night.

The laser scalpel he’s using might be soundless, but Miguel sure isn’t. Last night, you’d been constantly woken up by his growling as he trashes another expensive looking tool with an angry growl. Pacing the room for a few minutes, mumbling and complaining about the cheap quality of Stark tech and how primitive this world is. Then he's right back at it, sitting back down on the little pink velvet ottoman to continue tinkering.

Tonight is no different. You’re in bed, scrolling your phone to unwind before going to sleep, when you hear him grumble again then stab the laser scalpel into the surface of the table.

Peeling off the fluffy comfortable quilt wrapped around you, you make your way over to him before he destroys any more fancy furniture you can never dream of affording to replace on your modest salary.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, as you stand behind him.

“Bastard’s tagged the thing with a receptor that feeds information about any modifications made back to him. It’s booby trapped so that if I try to remove it, the whole thing will disintegrate.”

You lean over to peer at the desk over his shoulder, observing the arc reactor that's pulsing like a beating heart with a glow of blue.

“Does it matter? Let him have your technology.”

In the reflection of the vanity mirror, you can see the small muscle in his jaw tic with irritation.

“No,” he says flatly, picking up the scalpel again from where it’s wedged into the table. “We can’t risk him getting a hold of inter-dimensional technology. I don’t want Stark to be able to locate and come after you.”

Oh Jesus, not this again.

“I already told you, I’m not interested in Tony Stark." You resist the urge to roll your eyes at part two of Miguel's unwarranted jealousy feud with Stark. Didn’t the two of you have a heartfelt conversation about this?

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

He's grinding down on his jaw with irritated anger at whatever it is he’s thinking but not sharing with you. “We can’t trust him.”

“He’s a superhero, Miguel, just like you. If we can't trust him, then I don't know who we can trust.”

Miguel's mouth pulls into a grim and tight line at your words. For a brief moment, you think you catch a hint of fear on his face, before he breaks eye contact and turns away, back towards the bench. It takes you by surprise because you didn’t think Miguel was scared of anything.

“Tony Stark is one of the good guys,” you try again.

You rest a hand on the edge of his shoulder, trying to help placate his unease. “He’s an Avenger, remember? It's their job to protect the world.”

It dawns on you when you hear the words from your own mouth. The reason why he doesn’t want Tony Stark to be able to keep tabs on you and come after you.

The Avengers are meant to protect the world from any threats, and right now one of the greatest threats to this world is… you.

“Oh,” the tiny sound punches out of you as a yawning pit of uncertainty and fear opens up in your stomach.

One in every 40 New Yorkers will have a run-in with Superhero in their time in the city.

You've just always thought that, if your turn to encounter the Avengers came, it would be as a grateful civilian saved from the clutches of evil. You never thought it would be because you were the danger the world needed saving from.

Miguel must sense the moment the realization hits you, because he sets aside his tools and takes your hand, gently stroking the palm of it with his thumb.

"You have nothing to worry about, it’s just going to take some time," he murmurs, and he looks up at you with such warmth it makes the anxiety in you thaw slightly. "I'll be done with it soon.”

He eyes the arc reactor, not letting go of your hand. "Try to get some sleep."

You fall asleep to the white noise of tinkering metal and Miguel’s frustrated murmured curses. The noises should annoy you, but they don't. You find it oddly comforting, being able to hear Miguel move around in the same room as you when you’re in bed. Know with every fiber of your being that his presence means you're safe and easily drift fast asleep.

You don't know how long you stay asleep for or how much sleep you manage to catch before you feel the bed dip beside you.

"Hey," a voice softly cajoles you. There's a warm palm on your shoulder, gently nudging you awake. But you're not prepared to wake yet. Too comfortable in the haze of sleep to give it up.

You bury your head into the pillow, hoping to shut out any interference that's trying to keep you from your sleep.

"Cielito," the gentle voice tries again. "Wake up."

Grumpily and with great resistance, you strain to turn your head, squinting your eyes awake to see Miguel's face filling your vision.

It’s dark in here save for a small lamp left on in the far off corner. In this muted light, his scarlet eyes are illuminated with an otherworldly brilliance. If you had been more awake, you would have wanted to take a second or two to marvel at how beautiful they are.

"I got something for you," he says.

There’s a barely contained eagerness in his voice as he speaks, and sleepy as you are, it peaks your interest. You blink your eyes properly open, adjusting to the dim dark to see two small boxes set next to your pillow.

"Miguel, it's..." you flick your wrist towards you, when you remember the watch is no longer there. It’s odd how naked you feel without Lyla as your constant companion on your wrist.

You awkwardly prop yourself up on an elbow with great effort to figure out time the old fashioned way, glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand.

In a bright glaring LED, the digits announce: 01:00.

Past midnight?! Has he lost his mind?

"It's one in the morning! Why are you waking me up after midnight!?"

Unbothered by your outrage, he continues to lean across you to drag one of the boxes closer.

"I'm finally done modifying the parallel universe traversal device, so I got you something to celebrate."

You blink up at him in surprise. When he said he’d be done soon, you didn’t think he meant tonight.

“It’s from that place you wanted Stark to take you," he says, opening the box one-handed to reveal a gaudy looking golden donut waiting for you.

Then he drags the second box over, setting it next to the first and flips the lid open. Inside are half a dozen cinnamon-sugared donuts.

"And these are regular old donuts, from the Lower East Side for fifty cents each. We can do a comparison test. If that ugly golden donut is tastier, I’ll chop off my arm.”

You snort out a laugh. His one-sided feud with Tony Stark is alive and well you see. You don’t understand why this has become such a point of contention for him. Stark had never actually suggested he was going to get you golden donuts.

Before you have the chance to dig in, Miguel puts out his hand, palm up, on the mattress in invitation. "Give me your hand first," he instructs.

You oblige him, placing your hand in the middle of his, and he wraps the familiar watch around your wrist. Except it’s not as familiar as you remember it to be. It’s considerably chunkier now to accommodate Stark's arc reactor that sits in the middle and if anything it looks more like a cuff bracelet than a watch.

But you don’t mind, you’re glad to have the comforting weight of it back on your arm, wrist no longer feeling quite so naked.

“It’s bulkier than I would’ve liked. But there’s no helping how primitive Stark’s tech is,” Miguel snarks, clearly pleased with himself even though the man he’s bitching about isn’t even in the room to hear his clever insults.

In the gloomy light, the bright blue gem of the arc reactor shines back at you like a precious jewel. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were wearing jewelry fit for royalty.

"I like this upgrade on the watch. It’s pretty.”

"Not a watch," Miguel corrects, but he's not scolding you. The fondness in his voice is plainly there.

Looking up you meet his eyes to see the open affection that's there for you. Your face warms under his unwavering attention, until you have to duck your head down, unable to hold his gaze anymore.

You reach over the bed, to busy yourself, bypassing the golden donut to pick up one of the plain cinnamon ones. In the corner of your eye, you catch his lips curve into a smile as you take a large bite of the regular-non-golden donut.

He would gloat about that, wouldn’t he, the overgrown childish brat. You grin around the mouthful, as the sugar melts onto the tip of your tongue and you moan loudly at the perfect warm cinnamon that floods your senses.

Miguel is still smiling at you warmly, face propped in his broad hand as he watches you eat, and the heat in your face reaches an almost feverish pitch under his gaze.

"So what's next?" you force yourself to ask him over a muffled mouthful to distract yourself.

"Get some rest, sleep in. We'll take this for a few test drives in the morning to make sure it works the way it's supposed to, and then I'll take you to my home world."

There's a jittery sensation. A mix of exhilaration, excitement and anxiety blending with the sugar in your stomach at the unknown that waits before you. Even though you knew this day was coming since your visit at Wong, now that the time has come you're nervous.

The only world you’ve ever known is your own. You’re hardly an intrepid traveler. During your gap year in Europe, the use of the metric system was a culture shock for you. You can't even begin to imagine what it'll be like to travel to another alternate reality.

But you’re going to have to do it—and keep doing it, if Wong is correct.

Will you need to get a whole new wardrobe to fit in with the fashion trends of each universe? Will you have to learn new languages? Will there be a thousand sets of unfamiliar customs and quirks you’ll have to learn to adapt to?

…Will Miguel be there for any of it?

Biting down on your lip, you try to stave off the tight knot in your stomach.

One thing that's become clear is that even if Miguel takes you to his world, you won’t be able to stay there for very long. You aren’t going to be able to stay anywhere for very long.

Even if he intends to give you Lyla for good or build you another device that allows you to jump from world to world... what then?

Will he come with you?

Or will you be left to travel by yourself from one unknown world to another?

The loneliness of that fate makes your stomach hurt. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit that you want him to come with you more than anything, but you have no right to ask that of him. Not after everything he’s already done for you.

Like he can read your mind, Miguel gives you an appraising look.

"Once we're in Nueva York, we'll stay there for as long as it's safe," Miguel says, leaning across your lap to snag a donut from the box next to you for himself, and you try to ignore the heat that goes skittering through your leg when his arm brushes past your knee. "Then we'll jump to the next location."

You watch him scarf the cinnamony treat down in two mouthfuls, barely chewing. Your heart leaps excitedly until it jumps all the way to your throat.

"We?"

He grins, crumbs of caramelized sugar dotted on the curve of his lips. "I can't leave you by yourself, can I?"

Your mouth opens and closes, then opens again and you leave it there, hanging in the air, probably looking incredibly dumb and speechless.

You don’t know what to say to him. Don’t think there are adequate words in the English dictionary capable of expressing how happy it makes you to know that you’ll have him by your side. 'Thank you' seems incredibly lacking.

Somehow despite that you are both sitting down, he still dwarfs you and from your seated position you barely come up to his shoulders. You don’t quite know why you do it, but you move before you think, getting to your knees to lean up and place a small kiss on his cheek.

A faint pink tinges his cheeks at the small contact. Then it’s his turn to duck down. He scoots over, bringing the smaller donut box closer to you.

"Eat your golden donut," he says.

You peer up at him. The way his mouth pulls into a tiny and almost shy smile, and happiness buzzes in your chest at the sight.

A dopey smile spreads across your cheeks as you watch him. The way he rubs one broad hand over his jaw to hide his reddening face from you.

Taking the box from him, you look down at the shiny pastry. If your words are failing you, maybe food can speak for you instead. You pick up the golden donut in your hand and hold it out to him.

“You go first,” you offer.

There’s not a second of hesitation from Miguel. He leans down and takes a large bite of the gilded pastry, fangs first, puncturing the soft, squishy dough.

The whole thing bursts, and you squeal with laughter as the champagne flavored jelly filling squirts across his bottom lip, onto your fingers and drips onto the sheets below.

“Miguel, you’re making a complete mess!”

You lick up the sticky jam from your fingers as you watch him. There’s dust of gold smudging against his cheeks and even on his nose as he takes another bite. You’re tittering with amusement at the sight of him.

“Here you got some–” you bring your thumb to help him wipe at the corner of his mouth.

For a man who doesn’t like casual touches, sneering even at the idea of handshakes as a greeting at work, he doesn’t seem to mind yours.

Miguel lets you rub off the flecks of gold from his cheek, eyes dropping half-closed in contentment. His jaw moves under your hand as his mouth drops open, then he presses his lips to the inside of your palm.

It’s a barely there touch, but it has warmth furl from the middle of your stomach and blooms outward, spreading to the rest of you.

In this gigantic Wyoming king-sized bed, Miguel is seated close enough to you that your knees touch. He’s close. So close that you can feel the heat rolling off of his big body.

Somehow that's not close enough, because you close the remaining distance between you, until your knee is pressed against the firm inside of his thigh, his broad shoulders brush against yours.

It wouldn’t take much now. If you leaned up at this moment. If you tilted your head upwards even slightly. Your lips would be on his.

You shouldn’t, the small voice in your head warns. Kissing him is probably not a good idea.

He might not feel the same. Kissing him might change something irreparably between you, and then who will you travel the outer limits of the universe with?

But... if you're going to die tomorrow or the next day or next week, then what does it all matter anyhow? What’s a little bit of rejection when the end of the world is hiding right behind the next corner.

You tilt up and press your lips to his top lip, then the full lower one. It’s chaste and brief, and only lasts for a second. But for a first time it’s familiar and intimate in a way that it can only be with you and Miguel.

His lips are warm and dry and slightly open under the press of yours and it sends a fluttering warmth from the tip of your nose to the end of your fingertips.

You pull back with the tiniest movement, nose still brushing against his, as you gather the courage to look up at his face and try to find out if you just made a terrible mistake.

Those scarlet eyes are staring down at you in that familiar way you catch him doing sometimes. When he thinks you're not paying attention to him and his eyes lingers on your face.

His thumb catches behind your ear, face inching closer, and then he’s kissing you back. It’s sweet and electric, the sensation surges through you with a giddiness that makes your toes curl.

Miguel presses his lips to yours and holds you there. Long consecutive kisses that don't let you pull up for air. His other hand gently cups your face, thumb stroking the apple of your cheeks like you’re the most precious thing his big hands has ever held.

You want this to last, that it could always be like this. You want it to be you and him.

This man who brings you cupcakes when you’re crying. Who saves you the best portion of the food that he likes even though he’s a glutton. Who folds you paper flowers and leaves them on your desk to make you smile when you’re having a bad day at work. A man who stays by your side through the end of the world and never asks you for anything in return.

You love him.

One large hand covers the back of your neck. He tilts you back, like he’s trying to shield and protect you as he holds you. Holds you like he’s never going to let go.

Then he stops.

Why is he stopping?

He stiffens above you, the whole of his back tensing. You chase his lips but he is already pulling back and away from you.

Your eyes open to the muted darkness of the room.

In front of you, Miguel is looking at you with an expression you can't pin down. Eyes wide, and distracted. For a terrifying moment, you think that the look on his face is one of regret.

Maybe he realized he doesn’t feel that way about you after all. Maybe he's trying to find a way to let you down gently.

You pull back and study his face.

No… it’s not that.

His expression is the same distant look he had two seconds before a helicopter crashed into your apartment. The same tension in his eyes that will have him hauling you into his arms to protect you from a rogue vehicle. The same pinch in his brow when he’ll stop a conversation with you mid-sentence because the ceiling is about to cave in and he needs to push you out of harm’s way.

Something is wrong.

A cold sliver of fear crawls up your spine as Miguel’s face turns, and he stares into the empty space of the room beyond the bed.

There’s speck of pink spilling onto the sheets on your lap like the color of the sun on stained glass from the outside.

You follow his gaze in the direction of the radiant dusk pouring in from the window.

It’s too bright for one A.M, enough to be blinding.

Pulling away the quilt from your body, you slide out of bed and walk towards the brightness pouring in from the outside until you’re standing in front of the wide glass panes of the balcony.

You look up at the sky, and it’s not the familiar calm midnight-blue. There are vivid streaks of fluorescent pink and glowing purple staining the sky. There are fractures in the sky like someone took a sledge hammer to it and cracked it wide open.

The cityscape looks like it is folding onto itself. Skyscrapers, bridges, and streets are contorted and warped like badly-folded origami. The impossible architecture reminds you of a M.C Escher painting you saw on a school trip at MoMA as a child.

Outside, the pavements of New York is mirrored where the sky is supposed to be. Silhouettes of skyscrapers spring out from below and above and the vast sky is wedged between. Up is down and down is up and nothing makes sense anymore.

You've seen this scene take place before, when you were under Wong's multidimensional spell.

Your universe is starting to collapse.

The end of the world is here. You’ve officially run out of time.

~ Next Issue

Dedications & Credits:

To @guruan for her endless kindness and incredibly talented. I cannot thank her enough for the art she gifts me with that constantly inspires my little squirrel brain and drives me to write like I am possessed.

And @thirstworldproblemss my babe, my bestie, my moose! Thank you for always being there with your pretty face!! I adore and love you, our friendship and time together brings me endless joy. Thank you for going on this ride with me.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #marvel #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse fanfiction #marvel mcu #oscar isaac #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

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rosella35 · 5 months

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Borrowed Courage: Chapter 12

*Edit* = Kaleb's dad's physical description has changed because I'm indecisive and for next chapter's lore ;)

Oop. The last time I updated this was October 2022. I've completed an entire Master's degree since then ^^'

Thank you for being patient with me everyone! You have @fireflywritesgt and their incredible writing recently to thank for me rekindling my G/T hyperfixation and picking up my slack with Borrowed Courage. I hope you enjoy this mammoth of a chapter, kicking off the morning after Brooke and Kaleb's video call.

Word count: 7.4k *whistles*

Content warning: contains angst, swearing, and borrower gang tattoos(?)

****

A normal weekend for Kaleb was relatively boring by human standards, but to his borrower side, it was a welcome change of pace. His daily use of Upsize and constant interaction with humans meant that by the end of the week, Kaleb’s mind and body were battered to the point of exhaustion. It was for that reason that he’d come up with a rule for himself that on his days off, it was strictly ‘borrower time’. The concept was exactly as it sounded; Kaleb’s Saturdays and Sundays were spent tinkering away within the walls at his original size, going on the occasional borrowing trip (mostly out of habit than necessity), and if he really felt like it, travelling to the city’s aptly named interspecies zone with one of his upsized family members. As much as he loved attending school and blending in with human society, there was a deeper, almost visceral part of Kaleb that relished the moments he got to spend living unapologetically as a borrower.

Unfortunately though, this weekend was going to be different. As his phone’s alarm went off bright and early on Saturday morning, Kaleb groaned, dragging himself reluctantly out from under his mothers’ handmade quilt of fabric scraps and across the room to silence it. He braced himself on the side of his propped up phone for a minute, hiding a yawn behind the back of a hand and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the other. Bands of light streaked through the cracks in the wall that separated his cobbled-together living space from the human-sized apartment outside, illuminating hundreds of tiny, floating dust particles that no borrower could ever seem to escape from. Kaleb studied them intently for a minute, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to flop back into bed.

There’s no time to sleep in, he reminded himself, because today, he had a mission. A very un-borrower-like mission that involved breaking his own rule.

In his meagre defence, Kaleb hadn’t expected Brooke to actually take him up on the offer to study together in his family’s apartment. In fact, if he were being honest, he’d made that comment in the spur of the moment to sound cool in front of his human neighbour. This brought him to his current predicament: Kaleb had lied about having human guests over. Well, at least guests Brooke’s age. The truth was, the only human who had ever stepped foot in the Finch residence was Evie, and for good reason.

This is gonna be a long day. He thought, staring longingly at his unmade bed one last time.

With a begrudging sigh, Kaleb forced himself into his morning routine. He pulled on a fresh pair of handmade clothes, ran his repurposed toothbrush through his unruly bedhead, and set out into the ‘hallway’ that led to his family’s main living area. His cloth shoes were silent against the dust-covered timber floor, which was really a support beam that ran horizontally from one side of the wall near his human bedroom to the open kitchen and living room area on the other. On a normal Saturday morning, Kaleb would take his time with the trip, admiring the infrastructure of the apartment walls from a perspective he was fairly sure not even the human architects who designed the place would ever experience. Today, that luxury was swept aside as he turned the corner and shimmied down a knotted line stapled to the connecting support beam. From there, he speed-walked the last few feet’s distance towards a door crafted from the sturdy plastic cover and spiral binding of an A6 sized notebook.

“Hey mom, dad? You there?” Kaleb called as he crossed the threshold, leaving his shoes on a mat at the door.

Having constant access to Upsize and by association the human world meant that the Finch household was more accessorised than most borrower dwellings. The floor was carpeted for starters, hence his mom’s strict no-shoes policy. Their kitchen and living room area had been purposely built parallel to the human-sized equivalent, which allowed Kaleb’s dad and uncle Rodney to construct a series of tubes and pipelines that provided water, electricity and gas. The kitchen itself boasted a functioning gas stove and range hood made from a small aluminium funnel that filtered the steam outside.

On the other side of the room was a walk-in pantry that housed a wide assortment of nuts, dried fruits and repurposed glass trinket bottles filled with pickled vegetables. There was a sprig of rosemary and a bay leaf almost as tall as Kaleb himself leant against one side of the doorframe, and a stick of cinnamon on the other. And, on the apartment’s kitchen counter that could be accessed through a door next to the pantry was his uncle Rodney’s most prized possession, a mini fridge meant to hold human cosmetics, that allowed the Finch family to do what most borrowers could never dream of—store their perishables.

Kaleb’s mom, dad, and twin sisters, who were seated at their popsicle stick dining table having breakfast, glanced up in surprise when he entered the room.

“Someone’s up early.” His mom remarked, looking over his shoulder at a leather watch pinned horizontally across the wall to check the time. She gestured for him to sit down in a spare seat before leaving her own chair to fetch him a plate and cutlery. Kaleb did so, fighting the urge to drool as he took in the plate of steaming dime-sized pancakes, syrup, and berry slices his mom had prepared in the centre of the table.

“Heh, yeah. Morning.” He greeted, thanking her as she handed him a simple plastic plate repurposed from a button, a copper wire fork, and a knife he was fairly sure had once belonged in a set of Cluedo. Kaleb wasted no time helping himself to a stack of pancakes, maple syrup, and a slice of strawberry, momentarily distracted from his reason for being up so early in the first place.

As if reading his mind, his mom continued. “It’s not like you to be up this early on a Saturday. How was work last night?”

“Same old.” He said around a mouthful of pancake. “They’re talking about letting me start working the drive through next month, which sounds kinda cool. Apparently the pay’s a bit better than flipping burgers.”

“Ooh, I wonder if you’ll get any pranksters.” Juno piped up eagerly from her seat at the other end of the table. “Y’know, like those people on TikTok!”

Kaleb smirked across at his sister. For their thirteenth birthday and in preparation to begin attending human school next year, Juno and Paige had been gifted their first ever mobile phone, or in other words, their gateway into the world of the internet. Since then, the pair of them had been chattering non-stop about all of the amusing things human influencers did to entertain their loyal fans on social media. “If I do, you’ll be the first one to hear about it.” He promised her, before turning back to his mom.

“Actually, I was hoping to ask for you and dad’s opinion on something.” Kaleb started, setting his knife and fork down as he mulled over his next words.

His parents both looked at each other, and then across at him with concern. “Sure, Kaleb. What’s wrong?” Asked his dad, leaning across the table to grab a wedge of blueberry.

“Well… nothing’s wrong, exactly. I just…” He squeezed his eyes shut, finding himself clamming up all over again. Why was it suddenly so hard to speak?

“Is this about apologising to that girl in your class?” His mom interrupted, lacing her fingers together. “Because if it is—"

“No, no, it’s not that.” He replied before she could continue with what was sure to be another lecture. “Well, I mean, it is, kind of…” Voice trailing off for the second time, Kaleb gritted his teeth in frustration and decided to just get it over with.

“How do you feel about me bringing someone from my class over to work on a project next week after school?” He blurted out.

Instantly, the mood around the dining table shifted. “Someone from your class… Wait, you mean a human?” His mom realised, an incredulous look plastering her face. “You want to have a human over? In our apartment?”

“Who?” His dad enquired, scratching his stubbled chin thoughtfully. “Is it someone you’ve told us about before?”

“Well, about that…” Kaleb began to fidget idly with his fork, preparing himself for the reaction his next words would almost certainly garner. “It’s actually Brooke Tucker. Y’know, from downstairs?”

“Brooke Tucker…” His mom was the first one to connect the dots. “Hold on, you mean the girl your teacher called me about… the exterminator’s daughter?” She looked positively aghast.

Meanwhile, from the other end of the table, his dad chuckled, amusement glinting in his hazel eyes. It was the perfect example of how he and Kaleb’s mom couldn’t be any more different when it came to handling situations involving humans. “I take it your apology was well received, then?”

His mom’s icy gaze shifted from Kaleb to her husband. “Hugo, this isn’t a joke.” She scolded, pointing her own wire fork across at him accusingly. “Don’t you see how risky that is, letting a human like that into our home? What if she notices something amiss, or worse, someone gets seen?”

“Margalo, dear, let’s think about this for a minute.” Kaleb’s dad cut her off from her fretting, well practiced in calming her anxious antics. “It’s not like Kaleb’s going to be giving her a private tour of the walls. I’m sure the two of them will just study together in the main room like I’d imagine any other human students would. Am I getting that right, Kaleb?”

“Pretty much.” Kaleb confirmed, endlessly grateful for his dad’s support.

His mom glanced helplessly from her husband, to Kaleb, and then back again. “I know, but that doesn’t eliminate the risk involved here.” She protested. “With that… man… for a father, that girl is probably more observant than your average human, and besides all that, I heard from Kaleb’s teacher that she brags about torturing borrowers in class. Why on earth would you want to bring someone like her into our home?”

“Yeah, about that.” Kaleb said, recalling his conversation with Brooke from the other night. “It’s a long story, but turns out, she actually made all of that stuff up to try and get me to leave her alone. I… I think I can trust her.”

Margalo Finch narrowed her eyes. “You think, or you know?”

Meanwhile, Kaleb’s dad was appraising him with that observant look of his that always seemed to peer deep into one’s soul. It was the same look he got when he was thinking of a new protagonist or plot-line for one of his novels. “She has no reason to suspect us, dear.” He finally said, addressing his dishevelled wife with the calmest voice he could muster. “Even if Kaleb did provoke this Brooke Tucker girl about her father’s…” he coughed “…line of work, that doesn’t mean she’s automatically going to assume there are borrowers living here. Besides, plenty of young humans are getting into borrower rights activism these days, and if she’s had a change of heart so quickly, then isn’t that a good thing? One less thing to worry about with Kaleb going to school, hmm?”

As he listened to his dad defending him, Kaleb felt a pang of guilt that both of his parents were blissfully unaware of how much Brooke already knew about their family secret. He’d thought about telling them what had happened; how he’d made the fatal error of running his mouth on the apartment roof that night and paid the ultimate price for it; how he’d escaped with Evie’s help and against his better judgement, confronted Brooke again the following night; how he was finally starting to see eye to eye with her, as rocky as that process was turning out to be. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, at least not yet. A part of him was afraid that if he did, he would never be allowed to attend human school or use Upsize again. That was a gamble Kaleb just wasn’t willing to make.

“I… I understand that, but why?” He was jolted from his thoughts by his mom, who stared across at him with an expression that was a mixture of confusion and defeat. “I’m proud of you for making things right with her, but I thought you couldn’t stand the girl.”

Kaleb let out an exasperated sigh. That question again. It was one he was still grappling with himself. Why was he making this much of an effort with Brooke? He decided to shelve that debate for the time being, instead casting his mind back to the conversation he’d had with his mom earlier that week. “It’s like you said, isn’t it?” He recalled. “That the humans own the world, and we just live in it. When I thought about it that way, I wanted to make more of an effort to see things from Brooke’s perspective, y’know, just like any other human would. I guess I figured if I do that,” Kaleb almost laughed at the absurdity of his next words, “then maybe we could even be friends someday.”

Kaleb wasn’t sure if it was the delivery of his conviction, or the fact that he’d used her own words against her, but he could see the fight leaving his mom’s pale blue eyes. She sighed, relenting. “Well… I suppose it’d be alright to have her over, so long as it’s just the one time.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. Well, that’s the first hurdle crossed. “Thanks, mom.”

“You’re actually gonna bring home a human then, Kaleb?” Juno exclaimed. “That is so-o-o dope!”

“Dope?” Their dad asked, bemused.

“Yeah!” The borrower teen declared proudly. “We’ve been practicing our slang for human school!”

Kaleb groaned, pinching his brow. “No one uses that word anymore, Juno.”

“But Damon said—”

“If you’re actually listening to Damon, then that’s your first mistake.”

“That’s what I said!” Paige piped up smugly from beside her twin, and Kaleb reached across the table to give her a first bump.

“Okay fine, I won’t say it again.” Juno relented, before quickly turning back to her older brother with an impish grin. “But still, Kaleb, are you sure you wanna have a girl over? Our apartment looks so povo.”

“Hmm… I’ve definitely heard that word get tossed around, but only by this one Australian kid in class.” Kaleb confirmed as he processed the rest of her remark. “You do have a point, though.” He straightened up in his seat. “That’s kind of the other reason I got up so early this morning.”

“Povo?” His mom repeated in confusion, to which Hugo Finch sighed.

“I believe our children are comparing the main apartment to something akin to squalor.”

“Well, I suppose we do have quite a bit of… extra furniture.” She surmised with a chuckle, starting to lose some of the tension she’d built up from before.

‘Extra furniture’ was a stretch. The truth of the matter was that by nature, everyone in the Finch family was a kleptomaniac. Kaleb had seen a few episodes of Hoarders on YouTube, so he knew their human-sized living space wasn’t overly messy per se, but the fact remained that the Finch apartment currently functioned as more of a storage space for its residents’ various trinkets and bits-and-bobs than a place you’d expect humans to be living in. After all, it wasn’t like most of the giant furniture they could have purchased to fill the rooms would ever be used in the way it was intended. In fact, the only reason the apartment contained things like an old table and chair in the living area and Kaleb’s springy mattress were for the human-sized borrowers to have somewhere to sit while they waited for their Upsize to wear off in the afternoons.

With that in mind, Kaleb revealed his next big proposal. “How about this,” he declared. “I have some money saved up. If you let me have Brooke over to study, I’ll turn the apartment into the most decked-out human condo you can imagine.”

Margalo eyed her youngest son skeptically. “That’s the first I’ve heard about these savings.” She pointed out. “Doesn’t most of your money go towards your Upsize?”

Kaleb cringed at the reminder of his current financial situation. “Well, yeah, but I have some left over.” He protested.

“Hmm,” was all his mom replied with as she mulled over the idea in her head.

His dad spoke up next. “It would be nice to add a little bit of charm to the place. Who knows, maybe if it were more inviting, I would spend more of my time writing out there instead of in my office.” After earning a raised eyebrow from his wife, he added, “It’s just a thought. I’m sure Evie would appreciate it, at the very least.”

Juno, meanwhile, looked positively ecstatic. “Yes! A home make-over! I’ve always wanted to do that, since I saw this interior design page online!” She exclaimed giddily, jumping out of her seat with her hands still planted on the table.

“Yeah, c’mon, mom.” Paige agreed. “You’ve gotta let Kaleb do it, our apartment will look so awesome at the end! We can even take those cool before-and-after shots like they do on Youtube.”

With bated breath, the four of them waited in suspense for Margalo Finch’s final verdict on the matter. At last, Kaleb’s mom spoke up, though not without first taking a long, thoughtful sip of her peppermint tea. “Just to be clear, whatever this ‘home make-over’ is going to involve, it’ll have to come out of your bank account.” She said sternly. “Your father and I are able to pay for your schooling, but that doesn’t mean we have the money to afford this, too. Remember, your Upsize delivery is tomorrow. It’s not going to be our fault if you have to miss a week of school because you ran out of money to pay for it.”

Kaleb nodded his understanding. Every second Sunday, he made the journey to the next suburb over, where for lack of a better term, he made the exchange of two-hundred-and-fifty dollars’ cash for his next package of the highly secretive size-changing pills. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve got it covered.” He assured her, which was only partially true. Satisfied with the way things had gone with his parents, Kaleb thanked them for breakfast and got up from his seat. “Well, I’d better get to it then. I’ve only got this weekend to pull this off.”

Before he could make his exit, Juno and Paige both leapt out of their own seats, flanking their older brother on either side. Juno looped her arm around Kaleb’s, gazing up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Hey bro, if you let us take some of your Upsize, we can help out with the decorating?”

Kaleb hesitated, weighing up the idea in his head. Their offer wasn’t exactly surprising, all things considered. Ever since their dad had permitted them a trial run of Upsize earlier in the year, the Finch twins had been itching to venture out into the human world again. Kaleb couldn’t blame them. For him, experiencing life from a human’s perspective for the first time was like tasting a forbidden fruit. Once he’d seen everything the bustling city beyond the walls had to offer, the apartment building, despite being roughly the size of a city itself to a borrower, had never felt smaller.

“Well, I guess this would go a lot quicker if I had some extra help…” Kaleb started to reply, but paused, reminded of the abysmally empty plastic jar in his room where he kept his medication. “But I’m down to my last two pills, and I’ll need at least one and a half for myself…”

As though reading his mind, his dad chimed in. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll go collect your delivery tomorrow for you if your sisters want to help out.” He gave the twins a pointed look. “It’ll do them good to take a break from technology for the day.” In a lower voice, he added. “That’s all they seem to talk about anymore.”

Kaleb nodded gratefully, before turning his attention back to Juno and Paige and their identical gleeful expressions. “Okay, but that still means I only have enough Upsize left for one extra person, and only for half a day. You’ll have to do rock paper scissors on it.”

The borrower family watched in amusement as its two youngest members played best of three. A moment later, and Juno let out a triumphant cry. “I win!”

Paige folded her arms and stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “Fine. But you better let me tag along, too, okay?”

“Okay!” Juno looked relieved that her twin wasn’t mad. “I’ll even wear the overalls Damon bought me with the big pocket on the front, so you can see everything!”

Kaleb had taken to leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded, smiling at their conversation. “Well this is new.” He joked. “I was starting to think I’d need to butt in, but it sounds like you’ve already sorted things out.”

“Ohshut up, Kaleb. We’re not twelve anymore.” Paige snapped indignantly. “I can take the loss this time.”

He raised an eyebrow. No, but you’re barely a year older than that.

“Anyway, Mr. big shot.” Juno continued, hands on her hips. “Forget the Upsize. Do you really have enough money to buy all that human furniture?”

“Well, no.” He admitted, before shooting them a coy smirk, the irony in what he was about to say not lost on any of them. “It looks like we’ll just have to borrow some things along the way…”

****

While Kaleb and his sisters worked tirelessly from morning till night on their DIY apartment makeover, Brooke’s weekend was shaping up to be as dull as ever. She spent her Saturday locked away in her room, humming along to the latest Five Seconds of Summer album through her AirPods as she scrolled away aimlessly at social media. She wasn’t really paying attention to her phone, though. As she lay there with only her thoughts to entertain her, Brooke couldn’t help but mull over the events of the last week, and the many encounters she’d had with her classmate-turned borrower whose family happened to live on the third floor.

It still felt surreal to look back on it all. So much had changed in such a short time; about the way Brooke viewed society, about the way she viewed borrowers, about the way she viewed Kaleb Finch. It was a lot to process, and she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it. A part of her still wished she could go back in time and stop herself from going up to the rooftop that night, if nothing else but to prevent the torrent or emotions—the confusion, the guilt, and everything in between—that followed.

Even so, Brooke would be lying to herself at this point if she said she wasn’t at least a little curious about the secret life of her upstairs neighbour.

Bored as she was, the human girl couldn’t help but wonder what Kaleb was doing at that time. Would he be out and about exploring town? Considering his poorly concealed fascination with anything human-made, she could definitely picture that being the case. Or maybe he was hanging out in his own bedroom in the walls; a sight Brooke still hadn’t managed to rid from her mind after getting a glimpse of it during their video call last night.

Or maybe… she glanced lazily up at the ceiling, studying the grate of the air vent in the corner, half expecting to see a pair of much smaller eyes staring back at her from the other side. Maybe he was passing his time stalking her again, waiting for the perfect opportunity to sneak out from within the walls. She found herself scanning the room almost involuntarily, studying every nook and cranny that a borrower could possibly conceal themselves in. She felt her phone slip out of her hand as her heart filled with strange sense of… was it yearning? Curiosity? The thought alone made the human girl shudder in discomfort.

Did she… want to see him again? Brooke was struggling to deny it at this point, especially after last night. Weird as their conversation had been, it had unlocked a part of her that she thought had been buried long ago. Maybe she was lonely after all; lonely enough that even the company of her former bully was preferable to returning to the way things were. After all, the alternative couldn’t be true, could it? She couldn’t have really been enjoying spending time with Kaleb… right?

Stop thinking about him! Brooke’s thoughts screamed, bringing her internal monologue to a screeching halt. You’re not that desperate, Brooke. Get it together! The human girl would have slapped herself again had she not been paranoid about the footage somehow making its way onto the landlady’s security camera feed. With renewed determination, Brooke snatched up her phone and flopped over onto her stomach in bed, opening up her Netflix account. If binge watching the latest season of Stranger Things couldn’t distract her from thinking about her borrower neighbour, she didn’t know what would.

****

It was at exactly three thirty-five on Sunday afternoon when Brooke realised that ignoring Kaleb’s existence would be easier said than done. After a night spent glued to her phone screen like the teenager that she was, Brooke had committed to watching the last few episodes of the season on her laptop while she simultaneously updated her Spotify playlist with 80’s songs from the show’s latest soundtrack. Just as the credits rolled after the final cliffhanger, Brooke’s reeling thoughts were interrupted by an email notification in the corner of her screen. Still in the midst of processing the show’s ending scene, she clicked on it, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the subject line: Integration Day.It was sent by Mr. Bell, her history and home room teacher, and Brooke immediately felt all of her concerns about Stranger Things drift away as she read the message.

Dear Students,

I hope you have all had a relaxing weekend.

I am emailing in regards to an initiative the school is putting forward in an effort to promote borrower inclusion into the human education system. Beginning this week, the first Friday of every month will be Integration Day, during which we will be inviting those students living with borrower tenants aged 13 to 20 to have them participate in classes.

If you would like to be involved in this initiative, I have attached a consent form below. In order to be considered, the form must be completed and signed by both your parents or guardians, as well as the parents or guardians of the borrowers wishing to attend school as part of the program.

More information regarding the initiative will be announced in home class tomorrow morning.

I look forward to seeing you all then.

Yours sincerely,

Mr Bell

Brooke closed her laptop abruptly, frowning as she took a minute to process the information. This was a surprise. Of all the things she expected her teacher to agree to host, a borrower education scheme certainly wasn’t one of them. It was almost funny, she thought. Had Brooke received that email even a week earlier, she probably would have had a very different reaction to the one she was experiencing now. She imagined herself fuming in front of the laptop screen, cursing at the borrower race that seemed to find every possible way to make her life miserable. Hell, that part of her was still there, in some way. Mostly though, Brooke felt… indifferent about it all. She wasn’t as angry as she probably should’ve been—would’ve been. Instead… Yep, there it was again.

Brooke couldn’t help but wonder how Kaleb felt about the Integration Day announcement.

Running her fingers down her face in exasperation, the human girl decided it was as good a time as any to get some fresh air, if anything to put some distance between herself and… whatever thoughts her head kept conjuring. So, she got up out of bed, tugged on her pair of well-worn doc martens without bothering to properly do up the laces, and set off into the neighbourhood, bidding her parents a brief goodbye on her way out.

The street was quiet, save for a group of teenagers riding skateboards and laughing amongst themselves out the front of the local diner. Brooke tore her eyes away from the familiar green plaque emblazoned with the letter ‘B’ hanging in its window. Surprising (and frankly, unsanitary) as it was that borrowers were allowed in a burger joint of all places, she didn’t want to think about that right now. Trusty earbuds in, Brooke trudged along the sidewalk, letting the world fall away for a moment as she listened to the comforting riff of a punk rock song.

Eventually, hunger won against out against her mindless wandering, and she stopped by the bakery to grab a ham and salad sandwich on her way back to the apartment. Before long, Brooke found herself sitting against the railing on the rooftop to watch the sunset, absentmindedly nibbling at her late lunch as she took in the pink and orange hues of the sky.

“Damn, am I gonna have to find a new place to do my evening brooding?” A familiar voice piped up, as if on cue, and the human girl barely refrained from cringing at the sound.

So much for avoiding him. The nagging voice in the back of her mind taunted. It’s almost like you were hoping he’d be here—

Brooke swallowed down those thoughts, as well as her mouthful of sandwich, hard. Trying to compose herself, she tilted her head in the direction of the voice, eyes widening momentarily in surprise to find Kaleb standing at the top of the staircase a few feet away at his borrower size. He was learning casually against the cement wall with his arms folded, a halfway smile on his face that the human girl could barely make out from this distance. She noticed with interest that he was decked out in what she was coming to label his ‘borrowing outfit’ again; tiny black fingerless gloves, a cropped brown jacket and beige undershirt, khaki pants and what looked to be a brand new set of (barf) rat leather boots. A coil of string attached to a fishhook hung from a loop in his belt, and that ratty looking satchel of his was strung across his body, looking somewhat bulkier than usual.

Realising she was staring, Brooke coughed. “Yeah, sorry, there really isn’t enough space up here for two.” She quipped, gesturing to his smaller form with her sandwich. “Even when you’re… like this.” That raised another question. “Why are you small, anyway?” Brooke’s trademark nonchalant attitude returned in full force like the trusty emotional shield it was. “Surely there’s something productive you could’ve been doing today.”

She could have sworn he gave a tiny eye roll at her comment. “Speak for yourself.” Kaleb scoffed, stepping out towards her so he didn’t have to speak so loudly. “And I don’t have to be human-sized to be productive, geeze.” There was a pause. “To answer your question, though, I’m waiting for a package. The company that… organises my Upsize comes every Sunday afternoon with a delivery. Since I ran out early though, dad’s gone to get it for me.”

“That doesn’t sound sketchy at all.” Brooke smirked.

A flutter of wings caught her attention, and she watched as a pigeon landed a few metres away, head tilting curiously at her food. Out of the corner of her eye, Brooke didn’t fail to notice Kaleb already taking a few cautious steps backwards, towards the top of the staircase. With a cheeky grin, she tore a piece of bread from her sandwich and tossed it directly in front of the borrower’s escape route.

Less than a second passed before chaos ensued. Pigeons descended from the sky to fight over the crumbs, and Kaleb let out a startled yell, falling unceremoniously onto his backside with his arms held protectively over his head.

“W-What the hell, Brooke?” He cried, scrambling to a stand and slowly edging towards the shadow of her torso. He looked up at her indignantly with his tiny arms folded. At his size, the sight was almost cute, though she would sooner die than admit that to him out loud. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Relax, they’re just pigeons!” Brooke’s grin widened. “C’mon, don’t you guys train them as pets and shit?”

“You try training a wild animal twice your size, see how well that works out for you.” He grumbled back, thoroughly unamused.

Brooke smirked, stuffing the last of her sandwich into her mouth. As the pigeons, realising there was no longer food on offer, finally dispersed, Kaleb sighed irritably and took a seat about half a meter away from her, one knee drawn up to his chest. Chewing thoughtfully, she noted the uncharacteristic slump in his tiny shoulders. The human girl had an inkling as to why that might be.

Following her hunch, she spoke up. “I take it you got the email then? About—”

“Yeah, I got the email.” He interrupted, kicking a minuscule speck of rubble with his shoe. With how close he was sitting to the railing, it sailed right over the edge of the roof, and Brooke was once again left to wonder how Kaleb was able to sit so calmly before a relative five-hundred foot drop without losing his nerve. A Borrower’s tolerance to heights was no joke.

“So?” She pressed, adopting a cheshire cat’s grin. Reaching out, she poked him in the side with a finger. “Want me to take you with me to class on Friday? I think everyone would get a kick out of it, especially Amy Snyder.”

Kaleb swayed where he sat, not even looking up at her. His gaze remained focused on the city view ahead of them, as the sun dipped further into the horizon. “You’re not funny, y’know.”

“Really? I thought it was plenty funny.”

“Can’t you take a hint?” he snapped, irritation plain on his tiny face as he finally turned to glare up at her. “I’m not in the mood for your stupid human jokes right now.”

She leaned back on her elbows on the uneven concrete floor, looking down at him tauntingly. “Clearly. I’m confused, though. Isn’t integration what you lot were pushing for in the first place? I would’ve thought you’d be happier than this.”

Kaleb grit his teeth. “You call bring-your-borrower-to-class Friday ‘integration’? This whole thing is just a publicity stunt, to boost Westmount’s reputation as a ‘diverse learning environment’.” The borrower shuddered. “Tch. I can already see the headline.”

“Well, at least they’re making an effort, right?” Brooke pointed out. “That’s more than you can say about other high schools.”

“The whole point of borrowers attending human school should be to learn. This is more like show-and-tell than anything.” Kaleb shook his head stubbornly, hands clenching around the strap of his bag. “Nope.” He decided. “I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Brooke stared at him for a moment, his five-inch-tall form silhouetted by the glare of the setting sun. A question was nagging at her mind again, one that had been stewing there since her heated debate with him on the same rooftop just the other night. She tilted her head to the side. “Kaleb, why do you hate humans so much?”

He looked back at her, caught off guard for a moment as the question sank in. “I—”

“Kaleb? You up here?” A distinctly male voice called out suddenly, and the echo of human footsteps could be heard traipsing up the stairs. As if he’d stepped on a live wire, Kaleb was on his feet in an instant, his face losing several shades of colour.

“Shit, that’s my dad.” He announced in a panic, flashing her a jaunty salute. “Gotta go!”

“Your—what?” That was all the warning Brooke got before the borrower took off at full speed towards what was no doubt a secret pathway behind the stairwell. The human girl sat, blinking in shock at how quickly Kaleb had made his escape, just as the sound of a man clearing his throat behind her reached her ears.

Brooke wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she took in the sight of who she could only assume was Kaleb’s upsized father as he stood at the entrance to the rooftop. “Um, good evening.” He began, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he greeted her. “Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone would be up here at this hour.” He warbled. Brooke hadn’t failed to notice the way his hazel eyes darted across the roof as he spoke, no doubt checking for any sign of his currently much smaller son. Frowning faintly, he returned his gaze towards her. “I’m looking for a borro— I mean, a boy around your age. He always comes up here to watch the sunset, you see.”

Brooke almost snorted at his ramblings. That was definitely a trait Kaleb had inherited. Everything else about him, though, was not at all how she’d imagined the borrower man to look like. For starters, he was lean and wiry, even more so than Kaleb, with shoulder-length brown hair tied in a messy bun at the back, showing only the slightest hints of greying. His skin was a deep olive colour, almost sun-kissed, as though the man had spent more of his life outdoors than in. His body was littered with faded scars, one particularly gruesome one on his leg that looked almost like an animal bite, and another jagged line across his forehead, cutting through one of his eyebrows. He even had his right ear pierced with two simple black studs, making him look less like an author and more like a seasoned warrior from a video game.

What surprised Brooke most about the man though was the sleeve of tattoos running up almost the entire length of his left arm. At a glance, she could make out the realistic designs of what looked to be a field mouse with its teeth bared against an opposing finch, surrounded by strange symbols completely foreign to her human eyes but looking suspiciously like the borrower equivalent of gang signs. That and the fact that the mysterious man in question was unapologetically wearing a t-shirt that said ‘World’s Greatest Farter (Father)’, boxer shorts, and fluffy slippers left Brooke’s mind completely blown.

Realising he was waiting for a reply, the human girl forced herself to speak. “I haven’t seen anyone, sorry.” She spluttered. You owe me, Kaleb.

“Oh, well, that’s alright. I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually.” Kaleb’s father responded, hesitating as he stared her down with almost the same intensity as she had just done with him. “Actually, I don’t believe I’ve seen your face around here before.”

“Probably not.” She replied glibly. Brooke for one had certainly never seen the man before, otherwise she might have done a better job hiding her bewilderment. As it was, she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that borrowers could have tattoos of all things. Shutting down that particular train of thought, the human girl focused back on the conversation at hand. “My family and I just moved in the other day.” She continued, standing up and nodding in his direction. “I’m Brooke.”

Instantly, recognition flashed in the man’s hazel eyes, and he beamed across at her, closing the gap between them and holding out his hand. “Oh! You must be Brooke Tucker. Our new downstairs neighbour. You know of my son, then—Kaleb.” He cleared his throat a second time as he introduced himself. “My name is Hugo. Hugo Finch. My family and I live in apartment thirty-five.”

“Nice to meet you.” She answered, awkwardly shaking his hand and trying not to think about how at his normal size, she would be able to fit her own hand around his entire body. “And yeah. He’s in my class.”

“Yes, he’s told us a lot about you.” Hugo said with a nod, making the human girl’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Really?” Brooke gave the upsized borrower her most innocent smile. “All good things, I hope.”

“Oh, of course.” He said without missing a beat. “He tells me the two of you are working on a project together for modern history at the moment. It’s nice to see him making some new friends at school.”

Brooke winced at that. “I wouldn’t exactly call us friends.” She said, dancing around that particular topic. “But yeah, we’re getting there with the presentation. It helps that we live in the same building, too. Definitely makes it easier to get our research done.” She forced out a chuckle.

“I’ll bet it does.” Hugo agreed pleasantly, seemingly oblivious to her awkwardness. “I hear you’ll be visiting our apartment after school this week for a study session, too. Sounds like the two of you will be finished before you know it at this rate.”

Brooke smirked at the indirect mention that Kaleb had apparently asked his parents if he could have her over to study. Cute. “Yeah, seems like it. It’ll be good to get it done early, I guess.”

“You’ll love what he’s done with the place, too.” Hugo continued, his expression full of pride as he spoke about his son. “It was a mess before, but he and his sisters really stepped up this weekend to clean it up.” He gestured to his blatantly stay-at-home attire. “I even tested out the space for my work today, as you can probably tell. Before, I was renting out another… office because of the clutter, but I can definitely see the appeal of working from home now…” He trailed off with a chuckle, paying no mind to the human girl in front of him as she struggled to process this new information.

“I didn’t realise Kaleb was… redecorating.” Brooke said slowly, not sure whether to be amused or unsettled. She felt herself fidgeting uncomfortably with the inner seams of her hoodie as she recalled her conversation with the borrower in question last night, and how she’d jokingly suggested taking him up on his offer to have her over to his place. Surely Kaleb hadn’t spent the entire weekend cleaning out his family’s apartment just for them to study in… right? There was no way that could be true. She felt her cheeks redden at the mere thought.

Brooke was jolted back to the present when Hugo gave a breezy laugh, looking almost as uncomfortable as she did. The man wrung his hands, his expression reminding her vaguely of a deer caught in the headlights. If Brooke didn’t know any better, he’d just told her something he wasn’t supposed to. “R-Right, well, I’m sure he’ll tell you all about that at school tomorrow.” He warbled, glancing down at his wristwatch. “Speaking of Kaleb… if you’ll excuse me, I really should be getting back to tracking him down. It was nice talking to you, Brooke. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

Before Brooke could string together a reply, he’d darted back down the stairs almost as quickly as Kaleb had fled the rooftop not even ten minutes earlier. All the human girl could do was stare, hand raised in a wave that had come far too late.

“Yeah. Nice meeting you too…” She muttered to the empty rooftop, as the breeze whistled through her hair and night finally settled in.

Brooke was beginning to wonder if it was a borrower custom to run off mid-conversation. With how much she’d already learned about humankind’s smaller counterparts and their strange and secret culture in the past week, she didn’t think anything would surprise her at this point. Yet she still wanted to know more, a desire that both scared and excited her. She wanted to know more about Kaleb’s world, just like he wanted someone to share it with. Her heart just wasn’t ready to admit that yet.

For now, the human girl settled back into the blissful ignorance she was used to. She sat down heavily with her back up against the railing, and turned her music back on.

“My life is so weird.” Brooke sighed up at the stars.

#g/t community #g/t writing #borrowed courage #kaleb and brooke #sizechange #sizeshifter #the borrowers #tinypeople #gianttiny #borrowerau #angst #shrinking #sfw

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velvetures · 7 months

Text

AU Continuation: Perimeter Security

a.n.: Thank you to everyone who left comments, and gave this love! I hope to write more! This is thanks to @3dumbass and their suggestions.

summary: living with the 141 has its perks, and built-in security is one of them. it’s just not always easy for them to determine who’s actually a threat.

AU: The 141 are at risk due to personal files being compromised. They’re laying low at a low-risk location until further notice.

tags?: Simon x 3rd person coded relationship, strangers, tension, well-meaning anger, protectiveness, misunderstanding.

Snow made everything on the ridge lines slow down. Thick, icy, blankets camouflaged roads and halted the daily movement of simple life. The mail didn’t run, and neither did the school busses in town. It was as if the whole mountain slept in for weeks at a time when this kind of weather trudged in over the skyline. Freezing water pipes -if you didn’t know to turn the tap on a little- and draining the battery in your vehicle leaving you stranded for days at a time. It’s what made a wood-burning stove a lifesaver and why the ornate Art Garland sitting in the living room more of a necessity than a gilded cast-iron luxury from 1898.

But getting firewood was a whole different experience… especially when the task force took up residence and experience their first winter with Price and Laswell’s goddaughter.

She did well to provide for herself. Not just well, really, better than that. Everything she could manage alone was done without any assistance, and she never complained about much. They all assumed it came from living in such a remote place. That she couldn’t rely on anyone and never got spoiled to living easily. What she couldn’t -or simply didn’t- want to manage, the locals down in town helped with by beaters, trades, or well-kept favors that just kept being passed back and forth.

Just another one of those slowed-down things that made a whole lot of sense in her life, but set the 141’s teeth on edge.

They could rely on each other and do just fine most of the time. But individually and as a squad, it made all of them feel inadequate beyond comprehension asking for or requiring help. And like with her was just one of the stinging wounds they couldn’t quite heal up. Seeing her trade strawberries for corn or a rough-sewn quilt for a hand-made kitchen knife was dignified enough… they just didn’t understand fully how deep the lifestyle ran.

Ghost’s encounter with “Bear” put that much more tension on the dynamic.

***

She’d been inside bent over a pot of soup for nearly the whole morning. Steam curling over her reddened cheeks and sucking up through the range hood when the faint sound of a truck came spinning up the steep snow-covered driveway. A flatbed with a steel-cage welded to the bed and stacks of wood covered with a blue tarp in the back with fraying bungee cords. A familiar sight for her since the man driving always brought her firewood when the weather got too cold to go and do it herself. Or when she’d been regrettably lazy… and didn’t feel like it either.

Barrett “Bear” Stephens. A real outdoorsman and not more than a couple years older than her. Most people around town thought he was a real prick since he didn’t talk much and kept to himself out on West Run Ridge. But she liked him well enough. Trusted him to let him in her house for dinner as thanks for keeping her house warm and always waved when she saw him in the grocery store despite the guarantee he wouldn’t aside her back. Hearing his truck ambling up through driveway wasn’t anything new.

It’s why she forgot to mention it to anyone else.

“Damn freezing out here,” He spit with gritted teeth, sliding out of the truck in four layers of coats. “You’re real lucky the biscuits you make are worth this shit.”

She couldn’t help but stifle a smile. Shifting back and forth to stave off the cold while wearing less than half of what Bear was. Only having come out to greet him since it was below freezing. Normally she’d leave him to drop off her bundles of kindling without the harassment of making him talk. But the snow was deep, and she felt guilty not at least helping him for a moment. Maybe it was good luck that she had though. Because Bear didn’t even make it to the back of the flatbed when a solid black figure smoothly appeared from the opposite side. Black steel glinting in evening light and the black hole of a rifled pistol aimed right at him.

She stopped dead in her tracks. The mistake washing over her seeing Ghost standing there in the scary-as-hell mask, with a white skull framed by a black hoodie and positive white snow all around him. Fuck, even the steam from his breath smoked out of the mask like he was fucking burning from the inside out and letting off pressure before he exploded. His eyes were dead and cold. Staring down the mountain man who’d came to just as still of a position. She was certain Ghost was the only one breathing.

“You’re not welcome,” his thick burred voice sounded more gritty than normal. Maybe from the cold weather… she’d not seen him inside her house in days. “Suggest you leave.”

Bear didn’t say a word, but his rapid nod of his head was enough to thaw her out. Stop this before it got any uglier than Ghost’s .45 making a damn-good threat.

“Wait! He’s… he’s here on purpose!” The excuse can’t great. There could be plenty of reasons he came with intent and then not be positive. “I needed him!”

The stiffness in Ghost miraculously gets worse. Frost in his wide shoulders turning to blue ice and that darkness in his eyes sharpening like flint from sloped hills behind the house. It made him more pissed, and she didn’t have the slightest idea of how to fix it.

He was cagey at the best of times. Like he’d bristle if he had fur on his back or bare fangs if he had the choice to. She hated making any of that anger show, but there wasn’t a better option right now. Besides… it was her damn house. She could have whoever she pleased so long as she thought they were safe. John had made it clear there wouldn’t be any restrictions unless something serious came up. And having visitors weren’t one of them. Especially since. Bear wasn’t coming in the house.

She’d been quite set in that decision anyways. Bear wasn’t the nosey type anyways. He didn’t talk much, did his job, and left. But that didn’t mean Ghost knew it. And his pistol didn’t even waver a centimeter even after she spoke.

“This… this yours?” Bear’s voice sounded shaky. His teeth unclenched and irritation with the cold wind dissolved. His question made her antsy. There were too many answers, and none of them felt right in her head.

“Long story,” she decided, taking a rounded pathway around Bear and towards Ghost. Purposefully staying far away from that damn pistol he felt still necessary to have out.

“He can be-”

“Lethal.”

Ghost’s interjection made her wince.

“Enough of that!” She snaps back, hissing and feeling the hot air freeze in front of her lips. “Let him drop off the firewood, and he’ll leave.”

One look back at Bear and she could see the slight confusion in his otherwise guarded expression. There was no chance in hell she was letting Ghost just disappear off somewhere after this. He couldn’t just point-blank threaten people. Bear was who kept the damn house warm half the winter whether she liked it or not. And Ghost couldn’t fuck it up just because he’d not been explicitly told anything.

“How ‘bout we lend a hand?”

Soap and Gaz walking up nearly gave her a heart attack. One of them was bad enough. Two more? Her faith in Bear not running and telling anyone who would listen about her was stretching thin. The grocery store, all three churches, and the fire department would think she was in a reverse harem by the end of the month. Even if Soap was already helping himself to the stacks of bundled wood in the back, this interaction felt centuries long with no hope of ending.

“Just three.” She finally gets the warning out, seeing Gaz going for a fourth bundle. He just nods, setting it back down and shooting a quite civil nod in the man’s direction.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” He adds, looking over the tall stacks. “How much?”

“Ten dollars a bundle.” Bear sounds half ready to pass out.

Gaz promptly drops the one he’s carrying and pulls out a wallet like he’s got no problem with Ghost still standing there like a human-centry gun. Pulling out a twenty and holding it out in his hand.

Is this some sort of fucking peace treaty?

Ghost only moves to holster his weapon after Bear takes the money and mutters something about ‘help yourself’ before shutting himself back inside the can of the truck without another word. Tension easing with each moment Soap spends stacking his arms tall with dry, red cedar and sycamore. She doesn’t even know where to begin. Wondering where John was. Wanting to know where Ghost had been. Why he’d even approached in the first place.

“I need a word with you.”

She can’t bring herself to do anything but stare out at Bear’s truck hightailing it off her property as she addresses Ghost. Hearing his very heavy boots creaking on the porch. He doesn’t say a word, but it’s clear once Gaz and Soap leave for inside that he’s not standing behind her for his own enjoyment.

“Do you have any idea what you might’ve just screwed up?” Her voice doesn’t sound like her own. It’s mad, sure. But almost panicked in a sense. The reality of the situation hitting her harder because she vividly remembered winter before the help. And it wasn’t pretty. Recent snows had been stable and quite pleasant actually. And Ghost nearly made target practice out of her own sure solution.

“Very aware,” that damn voice sounded too smooth. “Who is he?”

Another thick billow of fog curls out of her mouth. “Who he is, isn’t important. Keeping my fucking house from freezing is.” She can feel her fingers starting to prick from the cold even inside her coat.

“Don’t care for nameless men.” He counters just as seemingly unbothered.

If she could physically force herself to turn around and face him head-on, she would. But his utter disregard made it intimidating. Too much to handle.

“Jesus Christ….” She muttered, head dropping to thump against a porch post. “Barrett Stephens. We call him Bear.” It felt defeating to be forced to answer him like this.

Ghost’s boots strain the porch as he walks towards the firewood hoops. The sound of dry bark ready to catch an ember cracking and scratching as he moves it.

“Almost killed himself…”

“Yeah,” She chuckles dryly, biting the inside of her cheek and spinning around with some real anger. “M’sure the coroner would love to know how he got ahold of the pistol you have tucked in your fuckin’ jeans.”

That massive man turned on himself just as quickly. Closing a multiple-yard distance in just a couple long strides. His breathing heavier and that thick smoke trailing from the stitch-seams in his mask.

“Gonna get yourself killed too…” He warns. Low, and just like the wolf she pictured him being. Bared teeth, dilated eyes and all.

“Stop growlin’ at me…” The words come out of her mouth before she even thinks about how wrong it is. “Actin’ like a damn dog.”

He’s fast. So fast.

Hauling her backwards against the porch banister and towering high above her head with a low, and heavy sort of breath fizzling out in his chest. It’s the most threatening he’s been so far. And she can’t tell just how far she can continue to stand her ground without things truly getting ugly. Even her fingers have stopped tingling from the cold with just how fast her blood is pumping. Force feeding oxygen to her brain. Desperate to find a way to run from an inescapable situation she’d created.

“Mind tellin’ me where you got this idea to talk back to me, creeker?”

“When you started throwin’ that gun around like you have the right.”

The fear didn’t keep her mouth shut. Digging an even deeper grave all because he kept using that stupid fucking nickname. Pushing buttons and making it that much harder to be understanding of why he was always so bitter. Nothing she’d done had made a difference so far. And the patience she’d saved specifically for him was waning.

Ghost just chuckled, his head rolling to the side and the gloved hands gripping her coat tightened.

“The right?” It was almost impossible to imagine anything other than a smirk under that mask.

“Oh… I certainly have the right to defend what’s mine.”

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated 🤎

#velvetures #velvetures writes #cod mwii #cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #cod au

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somepsychopomp · 1 year

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Winter's Night Pt. 2

AKA even more frosty old man yaoi

This is a continuation of my last simoncest/winterkov piece, found here. I just had to write a scene of the morning after, I just had to.

((You can also now find this story as a fic on Ao3 here.))

Excerpt:

“Did you sleep well?” a voice asked.

Simon startled and glanced to his other side. The Winter King propped himself up on his elbows, his chest as bare as Simon’s. His hair hung in a curtain around his face, his locks still silky and straight. He smiled in a lazy way, as if they had all the time in the world.

“My goodness,” Winter King said, “You are an early riser. Though I thought you might be, what with you and I being the same.”

Word count: 1,500

+++

Before Simon even opened his eyes, he thought he was somehow sleeping on a cloud. Something soft and welcoming.

As a trickle of pale, watery light fell across his eyes, rousing him from his slumber, he began to reassemble the pieces of the night before.

A piano, a kiss, the breath stolen from his lungs…

He opened his eyes. A tall, domed ceiling welcomed him, glimmering with the greens and violets of an aurora borealis. Exquisite, yet haunting.

He turned his head to the side. Without his glasses, he could only make out vague shapes at a distance. He saw what looked like a set of armchairs with a table between them. Some bookshelves or tapestries along the walls.

Simon stretched his arms out to either side and found himself enveloped by plush blankets and the softest bed he’d ever slept in. It was far nicer than the mattress in his exhibit home in the human city, and infinitely more luxurious than anything he slept on during the aftermath of an actual apocalypse.

He sat up slowly, ignoring the way his spine quietly popped. His old bones didn’t hurt as much as they usually did, much to his surprise.

As he stretched out his back, the blankets fell away to reveal his bare chest.

Simon stared blankly at himself. It wasn’t that he was numb, but he hardly even shivered as his skin met the cold air. He instead noted just how many blankets were heaped on the bed. He counted three duvets topped with a silky quilt, making quite the heavy mass now that he considered it.

Actually… he did feel something. A mild throbbing on the side of his neck. Glancing to the side, Simon spotted a round mirror resting on the nightstand.

He touched the darkened bruises scattered across the side of his neck, trailing down his throat and stopping at his chest. He felt his face flush with heat.

Dear God, someone as old as him with hickies?

It was a sight he couldn’t reconcile. Simon buried his fists in the plush bedding, fighting the surging feeling of lightheadedness overtaking him.

He had no idea what to make of his spiking heart rate, either. Nor the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Did you sleep well?” a voice asked.

“My goodness,” Winter King said, “You are an early riser. Though I thought you might be, what with you and I being the same.”

We’re not- Simon thought, then stopped himself. They were the same. They carried the same origins and many of the same memories. It was just a little challenging to think of them as alike, even now.

Especially now.

The Winter King stretched his arms over his head, noting the gentle light that filtered through the tall, indigo curtains. They were the only thing hiding Simon from the world beyond, one of the Winter King’s walls being made entirely of windows.

Simon rubbed his upper arms, not due to the cold but just to feel something grounding.

He was beginning to realize he was entirely naked beneath the blankets. That the previous night was not some hazy hallucination.

And that he had, in fact, been carried into the Winter King’s chambers by the other Simon himself. And he simply said nothing as he was laid beneath the covers, wanting only to sleep.

To run away from the storm that’d been brewing inside him, a dizzying mesh of regret and longing. And maybe a little shame, too.

He’d let the Winter King take from him and still wanted more. After all, his heart might’ve belonged to Betty, but could Simon remember ever feeling as cherished as he was last night?

When could he remember feeling so wanted?

Winter King said, “I do hope you slept well. I had some extra blankets brought in to keep you warm. Though I found it a bit too stuffy myself, I take the utmost care when it comes to my guests.”

He smiled at Simon, flipping his hair over his shoulder. “And I especially pride myself on fair treatment of those that come to bed with me.”

He leaned over and cupped Simon’s face, bringing them closer. Simon felt the ghost of a cold breath before a kiss was placed on his cheek. How quaint.

“I-” he said.

I think I made a mistake.

“Yes?” Winter King asked, his thumb tracing Simon’s cheek.

“I…” he cleared his throat, “I did sleep well. Thank you, for everything.”

“Ah!” Winter King said, beaming. “I’m so glad. You deserve only the best, my Simon.”

My Simon.

So intimate when they met only two days ago.

The Winter King pulled away, easing out of bed and wandering over to a set of double doors. Simon stared at the smooth expanse of his bare back, that dewy, pale blue skin. Winter King really must’ve been quite warm under all these covers, but hadn’t even kicked them off on his side. He’d allowed as much warmth to be trapped under them as possible for Simon’s sake.

As the Winter King’s figure became blurred at the edges, Simon remembered once more that he was without his glasses. He found them on the nightstand and fumbled to put them on. The world came into clarity.

Odd, there was a fireplace across from the bed. It, too, looked like it was made of ice. Simon doubted it was for anything beyond decoration, given its spotless interior and lack of firewood within. But it was a lovely fixture, the mantle carved with elegant curves.

The sound of a door opening caught his attention. The Winter King had vanished into the depths of a walk-in closet and emerged a short while later with several sets of clothes draped over his arm. He said, “Here, I already know what I’ll be wearing today. But why don’t you try this on?”

He draped one of the garments across the back of an armchair for Simon to inspect. It was a long overcoat, the hems, collar, and pockets embroidered with countless silver snowflakes. The buttons also looked like they were made of polished silver.

“You’re too generous,” Simon said. A part of him longed for the clothes he wore the previous day, the simple suit tailored for him by the castle tailors.

“Nonsense! Consider it a gift,” Winter King said. He smiled so fondly, practically glowing in the morning light.

And then he did something that surprised Simon.

He set aside his other clothes, approached Simon, and bent down so they were eye to eye, hardly any space between them. The Winter King tilted his head to the side and asked, “Do you want to know why I feel the way I do about you?”

And Simon almost choked on his own breath. He leaned back without thinking, as if afraid of the answer.

Unbother by his response, the Winter King said, “I saw you and was reminded of myself. Looking at you for the first time was like looking at a smaller, lost version of me. I saw you and, well… I wanted you.”

Winter King sat on the bed, edging closer to Simon, “I wanted to find out why you were so different from me. Forgive me, but I wanted to study you.”

He placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder.

Without putting up any resistance, Simon crumbled and fell, hair splayed out as his back met the bed. The Winter King hovered over him.

“I used to be so sure of everything in my world and my place in it,” he said. And he leaned closer before pressing another kiss to Simon’s collarbone. “But you, my Simon, filled me with curiosity once more.”

He raised his head and Simon was almost certain Winter King would be able to hear his thundering heart.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. Simon’s whole body grew taut despite the inviting warmth of the bed beneath him.

Winter King said, “Forgive me, but as soon as I saw you, I knew I had to have you, my dearest Simon.”

A cold hand laced its fingers with Simon’s own.

“The question is, will you have me in turn?”

And as terrified as he was, Simon still felt the most damnable spark beneath his skin. He felt the cold hand holding his own and once again found himself starving for the familiar feeling of ice and snow.

“Please…” Simon said, for he had no idea what else to say.

Please what?

But the matter was decided for him. That cold hand gripped his own tightly. The Winter King gasped softly, his fond smile turning into a ravenous expression, before he slammed his lips into Simon’s own.

#fionna and cake #simon petrikov #the winter king #simoncest #winterkov

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lunarw0rks · 1 year

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Hiii!!!Can i ask for Valeria Garzaxf!reader,and Valeria comforts her gf whos on her period??:3 i am rly carving at this,cramps fr killing me😭 thank u!!!

you're not supposed to lift a finger as it is, so when you're menstruating — valeria takes it to the next level !!

today was especially painful; cramps along your tummy and lower back, rendering you exhausted and slumped on the ground, in whatever position minimizes the agony just a bit.

she finds you on the bathroom floor, curled in the fetal position with a blanket snug around you. creeping closer, she kneels and holds out a hand, waiting for you to accept the help, "i know the bathroom is nice, but you should be in bed, mi reina."

once the next wave passes, you gather your strength and take her hand. they were always cold, no matter the sweltering temps in las almas.

she guided you through the luxurious bathroom, surely nicer than any you had ever been inside. it was spacey enough to be made into a home, but not ideal when you needed proper rest.

you sigh in relief when your achy muscles sink into the mattress, finally at ease a bit. from the linen closet, she grabbed one of the spare quilts and draped it along your shivering body. "how about i have the chef make you some tea? how does that sound?"

after you muttered some sort of yes, valeria sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on your cheek, caressing your soft flesh in a patterned manner. with her other, she texted the kitchen staff, ordering you more than you'd asked for.

a care package, if you will; tea, fresh soup, and some hot towels to place on your pain points. "only a few more minutes, then you can get some rest." you nodded slowly, hating how the minutes felt like hours when you were aching.

after a small knock, she ushered you to keep your eyes shut and relax. with a clink, she set the soup and mug on the nightstand, then unrolled the steamed towels. she whispered, and then you felt her raise the hem of your shirt enough to expose your stomach and back. placing them one by one, the damp towels clung to your skin, supplying heat to your cramping muscles instantly. "just keep your eyes closed, amor. try and sleep..."

˖⁺‧₊˚ divider cred. - cafekitsune ⋆⑅˚₊

#as a pcos girlie i feel your pain anon !!#rachel speaks #valeria cod #valeria garza #valeria x reader #valeria garza x reader #valeria headcanons #valeria mw2 #valeria garza cod #los vaqueros #kortac #kortac operators #call of duty #mw2

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johnwick008 · 1 month

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youtube

Dtex Homes UK, DUVET COVERS, MATTRESS TOPPERS, Bedding Essentials, Bed Sets, Bed Sheets, Pillows, Throws, pillowcases, Bed Sheet, Bedding wholesalers UK, Bedding Supplier UK, Bedding Products, bedding, buy duvets online, Duvet Cover, Duvet Set Wholesale, Wholesale Duvet Covers, luxury duvet, bath towel, bath towel online, bath towels online, childrens bath towels, childrens hooded bath towels, Wholesale Pillowcases, Mattresses For Sale In UK, mattresses, quilt

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sanchi-home · 5 months

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ladyduellist · 7 months

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Hearth

Story Summary:

The bard’s musical fingers trellised through his wavy locks as his pecks turned into suckles down the length of her velvety neck. “And, how would you like me to keep you warm?” She asked in a seductive tone.

“Hmm, I can think of a few ways.” The vibrations of his throat when he spoke diffused across her skin and she felt a drop of heat hit her core.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Astarion and Tav have been traveling on the road when they decide to rest at an inn.

Can they both keep each other warm for the night?

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Ao3

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Fluff, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Sexual Language, Dirty Talk, Consensual Kink, Cock-warming, Post Netherbrain defeat.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

It wasn’t that Tav minded waking up with Astarion’s cock still stuffed inside of her, but instead, it was blatantly clear the effect it had during their reverie by the mess secreting out of her cunt.

She gasped when he twitched inside of her—presumably a reflex his body committed to memory when her tightness suffocated his shaft. Her clit was throbbing: destitute and hungry for pleasurable relief.

It reminded her exactly how she winded up in her starved predicament.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

The midsummer in Flamerule typically brought a heat that was sweet and tingling upon the skin, but the day had—against all odds—dropped to a temperature that rivaled the early winter months. It had been the rolling storms sweeping like an avalanche down the mountains of Cormyr that prompted the lovers to scout for shelter at a quaint inn off the High Road.

Despite the setback, their destination remained clear: to visit Tav’s family in Highmoon.

Their rented room had been well-used over the years, smelling vaguely of wine bottles and charred wood smoke out of the fireplace. A matching set of walnut chairs and table sat in one corner, while a chamberpot—that was fortunately recently cleaned—had been isolated off behind a privacy screen.

“Not what I would call luxury, but at least it has a bed,” Astarion grumbled, locking the room behind them.

Discarding her clothes as soon as they walked in for the comfort of her thin cotton shift, Tav gave their temporary abode a quick glance over. “Honey, we’ve stayed in far worse conditions. Don’t you remember some of those nights in the Underdark? This is luxury in comparison to that.”

He scrunched his nose up at her. “Hells below, don’t remind me! I swear I stunk of mold and festering waters for well over a week once we left.”

She warmly smiled at him, remembering their past adventures together. The Underdark brought back a lot of memories. Hardships. Bonds. Choices. Moreover, the beats that started to bring her and Astarion together. Minute gestures that belatedly morphed into something real.

Tav shuddered, causing her to recall why she hastily removed her clothing in the first place. She climbed into bed, pulling a heavy quilt well over her head.

“Love, what ever are you doing?” Astarion chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt.

“My nose is cold,” she muffled under the coverings. She funneled her hand to blow hot air into it before cupping it over her nostrils.

The blanket lifted enough on the empty side of the bed to let in a gust of chilled air. Tav tugged playfully at the quilt, trying to pull it out of his strong grasp. “You scoundrel! Hurry and join me under here, else I send you away without so much as a kiss.”

Kissing had taken on an entirely new meaning once they officially began their relationship, what seemed like so long ago. The first time they kissed—on a night much like the one in their present—had been only using lips due to Astarion keeping their companionship at a distance for his own selfish plans.

Now, however, kissing was how they started and ended their days. Kissing nurtured their cherished promises of devotion. Kissing meant eternal love traversing all the stars in the galaxies with all roads leading back into each other’s arms.

And they both couldn’t get enough.

Letting the blanket fall, the vampire humored his bard. “Is that so? You know, I was just thinking about how enjoyable it would be to stay up and finish the last few chapters of my book.”

Tav scooted her body closer to the edge of the mattress where he stood. Her hand reached out from under the blanket and yanked at his trousers like a child holding onto the hem of their guardian’s shirt. “Wait. Is it too late to change my mind?”

Astarion deftly folded back the quilt, enough for his eyes to find her rosy lips pushed forward into a pout. She decided to put on more of a show for him by fiddling with her messy plait, begging with her wide eyes. And like she predicted, a faint hunger passed through his scarlet gaze when she upped the ante, sticking out a sliver of pink tongue to wet her bottom lip.

A guttural lament rose from his throat that he tried to swallow. Surely, his prick had jerked by now as he urgently watched her trace her vermillion in careful sweeps.

Oh, how she loved weaponizing her lips against the vampire spawn. During a particularly passionate night, when he drove into her over a writing desk, he confessed to her all the ways he loved having her lips on him. Sucking his tongue. Fondling his ears. Dragging down his abdomen. Wrapped around his cock.

Languidly, he unlaced his pants, gifting her with a groan that she realized was him alleviating his hardness from its concealment. The lantern they had lit earlier, illuminated the small room with a somber glow and Tav was able to admire the precum already weeping from his cock as he shimmied the rest of his clothing down his lean thighs. She could almost hear her own self begging to suck on it inside her mind.

The bed dipped, creaking under his weight, as Astarion climbed in next to her. He turned onto his side, balancing his head on his arm, and wiggled closer to his lover.

She blushed when he pinned his body to hers, his hard length wantonly searching for friction rubbing on her outer thigh. Fluid from his excitement, dampened through her flimsy shift creating a trail of slick on her skin.

Bringing a hand to her face, he swept ashy brown strands of hair away. “How could I ever say no to you,” he said brushing his pale lips against hers.

And then, while he had her distracted, he fucking entwined his nearly frozen feet with hers.

Tav squirmed, pawing at his arms that now held her secured to the bed. “ASTARION! Oh my gods! Get those away from me,” she giggled loudly.

“Only following suit, darling. I’m also trying to get warm,” he regarded with a toothy smirk, half pushing his body into hers to cool her body even more with his temperature.

How she adored these intimate moments between them. The safety Astarion felt with her to experience long wishful happiness for the first time in his undeath. Tav’s vulnerability, like a flower forged in glass, she entrusted to him. Deciding to travel through the other’s besmirched moors to fight for forward movement.

Tav writhed and giggled. Giggled and writhed until his hand found her waist and he drew a circle through her shift with his pads to soothe her.

When Astarion’s lips pecked her neck, the giggles further slowed. Delightfully, did she hum for him, curled lashes fluttering in his balm. “Mmm, what are you up to my love?”

Lithe fingers ran up her sides, rising her shift higher on her thighs. “Mayhaps, I’d like to keep warm too.”

“Hmm, I can think of a few ways.” The vibrations of his throat when he spoke diffused across her skin and she felt a drop of heat hit her core.

Gliding his digits down to her thighs, he ascended his touch under the fabric of her nightclothes, raising, raising, raising until he outlined the hem of her smalls. Her breath caught, praying to the gods that his fingers would seek sanctum between her folds. Those needed to be heated too, didn’t they?

She tugged at his hair, a whispering of words filling the room. “‘Starion, please kiss me.”

Taking her request to heart, Astarion hovered his lips over her own as his fingers slithered around her lower stomach above the band of her underwear.

“I had thought about your mouth warming me,” he disclosed, melting his lips onto hers. “But,” he began again, sliding his tongue into her parted lips to breeze along hers with a single swipe. “I was wondering if instead—,” he paused, finally breaking his ministrations to trail his index finger under her smalls down a straight line to her damp clit. “After I take you, could I warm my cock inside your slit?

Tav’s eyes rolled back as he kneaded her nub in lazy circles. She removed her hold from the back of his hand, to eagerly palm his hard shaft. He growled into her mouth, impishly grinding his cock upon the bliss of her hand.

“Yes, please. If that’s what you want, then I want that too,” she keened, sweetly kissing the corner of his plush lips.

Consent had become part of the foundation in their sexual intimacy. It involved an incredible amount of trust that evolved over time. And it only seemed to entice their passion to become one of increased yearning and ravening they uniquely shared for the other. How far they had both come in their relationship filled Tav’s soul with a strange sensation of mirth she had never experienced with a man before.

She loved him so very dearly; And she was the complication he never expected to fall in love with.

“On your side, songbird,” the vampire grinned, withdrawing his hand from her cunt.

Nearly groaning from the absence of his touch, she nodded. Temporarily, the notion to ignore his instructions in favor of acting as a brat—another game they liked to sometimes play—crossed her mind, but the thought of being a good girl and being rewarded with his tongue flicking her clit for her compliance, won out.

Shifting her weight onto her side, she bent up her knees to slide her underwear down her legs, kicking them somewhere into the void at the bottom of the mattress.

Astarion swathed an arm around her middle to drag her to him, his entire muscularly slender body pressed against her backside. Gently, he picked up her plait to lay it over her shoulder, allowing him to have access to his favorite areas on her neck. She moaned when his tongue licked a stripe up her protruding vein, a baby blue treat filled with crimson rivulets made to curb his appetite.

“May I?”

Tav flushed knowing that if he bit her, it would accelerate the deluge of juices that had already been flooding her sex. He knew it too—of course. “You may,” she replied, panting.

“Ah, but first,” Astarion ebbed, leaning his mouth away from her. He grabbed a handful of the cotton adorning her body and whisked it upwards until he could view the nakedness of her buttocks. “I have been aching to be inside of you.”

He tenderly caressed the roundness of her ass, every so often squeezing a chunk of soft flesh. The bard purposely bumped against his prick with each compress, teasing him to tunnel his stiffness into her. After they were both thoroughly teased, he patted the outside of her thigh, signaling for her to lift her leg. She elevated it at an angle, enough for him to enter her from behind. And, fortunate for her lover, her thirsting hole was already covered in her need for him.

Astarion ensnared his cock in a firm grip and led it to her entrance. Tav peered back at him, smiling lovingly that she was beyond ready to receive him. Gripping her hip, he bucked himself into her once, twice, a third time until he was properly seated. They both sang out loudly in unison, expressing the ecstasy of their connection.

Oh, how she stretched for him while his crown started to push into her torrid lust. Her walls tightened greedily around him as she felt his foreskin retracting, allowing her to massage her tautness over his tip.

“I will never…fuck...tire of how tight you are,” he shamelessly admitted, his cock quivering between her lips.

“And I’ll never tire of you…taking me how you want.”

Tav slightly closed her legs to keep him nestled inside of her for the duration of their coupling. As he began to plunge into her, she untied the top of her shift to free her large chest. She clasped his hand, prying it to settle over an already erect nipple. He chuckled softly behind her at her eagerness.

He pinched her rosy bud, giving it a firm roll betwixt his expert pads. She cried out as he pinched her, the pain an all-consuming euphoria. “You are so very sensitive. Couldn’t wait for me to touch these, could you?”

The sounds of him pounding up against her ass as he pulled his cock all the way out, only to impale himself into her in one full thrust, filled the room over and over again.

“I couldn’t wait,” she yelped. “Actually, I—”

“You what, love? Don’t be coy.”

“I’ve been fantasizing about you fucking my tits,” Tav murmured shyly, her décolletage burning with a pinkish hue reserved for fresh blooms.

His Adam's apple bobbed next to her neck as he swallowed hard. “You tempting nymph. Had I not already decided to take you like this, my cock would have already came all over those luscious breasts you want me in between. But, for now,” Astarion asserted, nipping at the helix of her ear. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream my name.”

She loved it when he took control of her like this; it filled her heart with joy watching him progress in taking his sexuality back. He had a choice for his wants and needs for the first time in over two centuries and she was there to help him along the way. Their communication around the subject had been wrought with many hard conversations and pathways of neverending brambles they were forced to step upon, but it became clear that their patience was well worth the wait.

Just the sensation of him burrowing his rigid length inches into her cunt was enough for her. The feeling of his unwavering plunges into her over and over again caused her heart to rend. She pushed back into him with every thrust, causing him to fill her deeper.

Then, two familiar fangs seduced along her neckline ready to open her wide. Astarion nuzzled the satiny skin below her earlobe, desiring her flesh to rip apart. The compulsion in his throat howled to be covered in crimson and he finally sank his teeth into her.

Tav contracted around his prick, a scream of his name resounding out like a chorus. “Astarion! Astarion, don’t stop.”

As he supped from her, he graciously took mouthfuls of her blood, fondling the gaping wounds with the tip of his tongue. She heaved, tensing further around him the longer he fed. Licking at cuts he made, he sucked up the tides of blood streaming down the back of her neck before she tapped on him twice for him to stop.

He balled her hair around his fist pulling her head backwards. Removing his mouth from his dark urges for her, he forcefully groaned. “Gods, love. Stop clenching so hard or I’m not going to last.”

“I can’t help it,” she breathed out in her delirium. “I want you to cum in me. Please cum inside of me, ‘Star.”

Tav arched her back into him, twisting the upper portion of her body towards him. She observed the shades of pink that now glowed on his cheeks and ears caused by the blood coursing through his body. Her blood.

Astarion leaned down to kiss her, as his flexible hips met her back end. The bard wreathed her arm around to his head of beautifully kept curls that shook with each buck. She held him there, staring into his garnet orbs whilst she continued scrambling to cry out his name.

I love you. Her eyes said.

I love you too. His responded.

The pace of his propels quickened and a cocktail of both their arousals was starting to leak, covering her inner thighs.

“Darling, I’m going to—”

“Cum for me, my love.”

Tav bounced herself off his cock, coaxing him to finish. He gripped her hip, hurriedly colliding himself into her decadent slit. She cooed encouragement on his lips, praising him for how good he made her feel. And then he was grunting, cursing, and shooting thick sticky ropes into her blistering want. Reflexively, his length convulsed until his orgasm calmed and he remained snuggled half-erect within her.

Cock still buried, he pressed down on her leg to completely shut it. The rasping of him being enveloped even more in her narrow wet creaminess, caused him to wince. He meant what he said earlier, he was going to warm his cock and it would last throughout the rest of their reverie.

“Mmm. That was nice. All warmed up now?” Tav managed through the sputtering of her pulsating heart that was starting to slow.

Astarion cradled her cheek, ushering them into a long sensual kiss. “I am. Now, let us rest. I’ll be here when you wake.”

#astarion #bg3 #astarion fanfic #astarion acunin #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic #smut #astarion smut

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daichiduskdrop · 1 year

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˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Chapter 21

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: none!

Words: 3390

Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashion @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani @iamkookiesforyou @dragons-flare @fangirl125reader @roseidol @frieschan @popcatx0 @liz67900 @exfolitae

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

„And what about Barbie? The movie came out not too long ago; have you seen it yet?” Yuki asked, his voice airy and happy.

The short boy held tight on to Moonsik's hand, pulling the older beta after himself. He could already smell the comfort the Omega Store brought him.

„No, not yet, have you?” You asked, looking up at him. He shook his head. „No, I haven't. We were supposed to go with the pack, but we had been quite busy, so it didn't work out yet."

You could hear just the slightest disappointment in his voice, but it didn't take too long for him to brighten up.

„We will go soon; don't worry, baby.” Moonsik spoke calmly, ruffling up the already messy hair Yuki had.

And so, you all entered the store, where many high-quality beddings of all different sizes and patterns were neatly stocked on the tall shelves.

The omega led the way right away, pulling his mate along and mumbling something about the new silk line of sheets. While their pack certainly wasn't poor; the beta realised well that they still had to keep up with a budget set earlier, but there was no harm in looking around.

He would make sure to keep their own omega in check, though, making sure he wouldn't go overboard with things. Of course he would let him get new things for his nest; who was he to say no?

„Princess, where would you like to go first?” You looked back at the alpha, his smile soft. He couldn't help but coo to himself at you; you looked precious.

You really were, though, for them anyway.

Taking a few short steps towards you, Jimin's soft hands went around your cheeks, gently giggling at how squishy and soft they were. You were adorable.

„How about we look at the blankets first?” Pulling you from his younger packmate, Hobi took your hand in his, your other palm still in the packalpha's.

Leading you towards the large quilt, duvet, and blanket section, there were much too many to choose from. Ranging from all different sizes and prints, there were cheaper ones and also more pricey ones from the more luxurious line, which the alphas were quite interested in.

Looking over at the tall, folded fabrics first, you couldn't help but brush your fingers over a brown and white wool throw. It had a few threads cut neatly at the end, reminding you of pretty scarves.

„Come here, look at this one bunbun! It's so soft; here, baby, touch it!” The youngest alpha gasped out, picking up the carefully folded item before he skipped over to the three of you.

Setting your hands free, you gingerly ran your palm over the clean white duvet; the fabric was truly soft and nice to touch. Squeezing it softly, you could tell it was filled with feathers, therefore it would be expensive.

You hummed gently, nodding to Jungkook. It certainly was soft; that was true. Beaming at you, the alpha happily placed it back before he selected a much bigger size in a plastic, scent-free packaging.

Your eyes widened a little bit, not realising that Jungkook would just like that decide to take something to buy, solemnly based on your small smile and nod.

„What-? N-no, you ca-can't just-” You whispered out, shocked to your core. You noticed the price tag; it was over a million ₩ for god's sake! That was way too much on a simple duvet, plus you already had one too!

The man turned to you after placing the package into a cart pushed by Yoongi. „What do you mean, honeybun? Don't you want to have your own little nest?” He walked back over to you, bending to look closer at your face.

His eyes seemed so big and sweet, pulling at your heart strings. You suddenly felt shy, looking away.

„...I don't ne-nest, oppa." You whined out, having the packmate's closest by turning to look at you, hearing your soft distress. Pulling you to himself quickly, Jungkook lightly rubbed your back, scenting you a bit.

„I know sweet bunny, I know. But I think you should maybe try a little; you're such a good girl for alphas aren't you? When was the last time you did?” He asked, being mindful not to be too loud.

There weren't that many people in the store, but still, they wanted to avoid any commotion if possible. You looked away again, Hobi's fingers gently running through your hair to calm you down further.

„I don't know...” You whispered out, truly not sure. It was quite a long time, for sure. You had definitely brought some nesting materials for your grandfather's funeral, but since they carried a lot of your family's scents, you must have stopped using them soon after.

You heard Hoseok sigh out a bit. They weren't angry or disappointed at you; they would never, but still, it wasn't too healthy, worrying them to their very core.

While nesting was a quite usual act for omega's to do, it also always placed them in a very vulnerable position. A nest was only to be touched and entered after the omega's approval, and until then it was a forbidden fruit.

Not everyone understood that well, and a lot of them could end up scarred and too worried to build a nest for the rest of their lives.

It was a very important thing to do so, not just a silly tradition to use for heats and ruts. It ran in the people's blood, provided a safe spot for the pack's future pups if possible, and was therefore the most guarded spot of all pack houses.

Not only did it hold their littlest babies, it would much more likely hold their precious omega, which needed to be protected and guarded at all times.

And if not built from time to time on natural instincts, it could only mean that the person would end up more stressed and worried over time, leading to possible health issues.

Now that the pack has started the courting process with you, they have realised that it would be a rather good idea to get a separate room with the solemn purpose of a nest, hopefully made by you.

And so, as they were preparing to start the den, the other guest room they had would soon be transformed into one. They would still need to buy quite a few things, and so this stop at the store was a helpful start.

They might not get everything right away, but it would be a good thing to look around for now. And to especially take note of the things you like and what isn't up your alley.

„It's okay, peaches. You can always try again, hm? Alphas will always keep you safe, baby; don't worry.” Jin smiled softly at you, also pulling you to his chest for a beat or two.

„...Thank you, oppa." You mumbled out, your cheek squished up against his body. He chuckled softly at you, gently petting your hair before he pulled away.

„How about we take a look at the bed posts?” You nodded gratefully, gladly letting the alpha pull you after himself, a few of them trailing after you.

The large open section was filled with beds of all different sizes and shapes. Showcasing the mattress options and the many duvets, pillows, and covers, it held many different types.

And so you all looked around for a few minutes, walking through the wooden posts and the metal ones too. You always wanted to have a very cosy room to nest in, but considering how cramped your apartment was, it never looked that way; the room was only messy.

You weren't too sure about what the packmates would be interested in having their den look like; there were many styles, and each pack had a much different one.

While some enjoyed the bright and light room and the colourful sheets with many patterns, others preferred having a more casual look with posters or mirrors hung up.

You didn't really get to see any proper dens in your life, but you always enjoyed the more sleepy-looking ones—dark, comfortable sheets that just made you sleepy looking at them.

„We haven't measured the room yet, but which one do you like the best?" The packalpha asked, bended over to be face-to-face with you. His warm palms were at the arms of your pink coat, gently running over the fabric comfortingly.

It was quite a big store with many scents, and while the facemasks helped with being overwhelmed, the alphas were still on a constant watch over you entering a sudden drop.

You looked back over the many options. You weren't too sure exactly what you liked the most. There were simpler solid wood ones with a bed base only, and then a few of the much more complicated-looking ones, with the four posters, those were definitely meant to feed into the more natural instincts of many omegas.

You also really liked the look of the platform bed frames; the mattress is simply placed over the step of wood. It looked sleek and timeless.

You shrugged your shoulders, having the alpha softly pull you to himself once again. He could tell you were overwhelmed by the many options, sighing gently.

„It's okay, sweetheart. Do you prefer the wooden or metal ones, pup? We can go from there. Alpha will help you baby.” He smiled softly at you, encouraging you to make a much simpler decision.

„...I think I like the w-wood better." You said, your chin resting over the alpha's collarbone. He smiled widely, his dimples showing. You couldn't see them, though, with the mask covering it all up.

„Good job, sweetie. And what shape do you like the best?” He continued encouraging you. There were quite a few styles of beds you could choose from, with the circular ones being more traditional.

You never truly liked those; you always felt like something was a bit too cramped, and it looked awkward in the room too, if not placed with the utmost detail.

„M-maybe the normal rectangular? I'm not sure." You said. You did not want to offend anyone. He might love the other styles, for all you know.

„It's okay, pup. Thank you for telling me, baby, Alpha is very proud of his good girl.” Namjoon said calmly, knuckles running over the skin of your cheek.

Soon after the packalpha led you around the rest of the store, a few pillows, duvets, bedsheets, and other small things like new towels and sleeping mists filled up the large cart.

You held onto Namjoon's hand tightly the whole time you visited the store, only occasionally letting go to touch a few of the comforting fabrics.

„Kitty, come look here. What do you think?” Yoongi called out gently at the very end of the long row while you and a few of the alphas lingered at the front, looking over the blankets on display.

You walked over quickly, curious to see what had the alpha call out for your attention. While Yoongi held the cart most of the shopping spree, he didn't make much move to have you touch everything he found nice, letting you look around yourself first.

Instead, he just plucked the things he thought you might like right in the cart, hoping you would like them just as much as he did. He might have been one of the most quiet ones the entire time there, but for sure was one of the alphas that chose the most things for you.

With you coming closer, his arm outstretched lightly, your hand taken in his own right away. He smiled a little to himself, hiding it cleverly behind his own facemask.

Infront of him was a tidy row of a few plushies. They weren't the regular stuffed animal type, cleverly designed especially for more clingy and touch starved omegas that might have some hard times from time to time.

Placed in a plastic sealed box with a one always unboxed for the customers to touch and take a closer look at, there were many colours and types of animals, like soft pink rabbits, bears with fun outfits on, elephants and puppies, foxes or even dragons of all sizes and colours.

You had only a few toys growing up, and soft animals you could sleep with were always your favourite. You didn't have any now, unfortunately, but these weren't just a simple toy to cuddle with, no, these held a much better purpose.

As it was quite unusual for omegas to work, it was normal for them to stay back at the packhouse most of the time. Typically, another packmate would stay to keep them company, mostly to calm the rest of the pack not present down from the constant worry.

But sometimes, it wasn't possible to stay with them and everyone was required for their own arrands.

While the pack would most likely try and come back home as soon as possible, not comfortable with leaving the omegas fully by themselves, it would be quite usually nerve wracking and usually scary for the weakest second genders.

A well scented pillow or a blanket could help, but not all materials held in the smell for long enough, not working greatly.

And so a few companies started making smaller pillows and stuffed animals, that carried a special patch of fabric that would be practically drenched in the packmembers scent and wouldn't let go of it for a long time.

The items would be sold quite frequently, more and more packs using them to help from creating any stressful situations for their little ones, making more stores sell such, a giant trend settling.

You never had a thing like this, there was really no use for it with you, but you heard about them a few years ago. You liked the idea of having one though.

„Hm baby? What about the cat, it's pretty cute...” the alpha mumbled, the black fluffy cat with pretty eyes, one yellow and one green and light pink ears looked adorable for sure. It had a white tip on its tail, and was pretty big too.

„Hyung, that's not a cat that's like... A panther or something, that's too scary. Look honey, they have such a cute rabbit, don't you want one? You are my baby bunny, and it also kinda looks like Kooky too, how about that one?”

The youngest alpha hopped over, taking the pink bunny in his arms, showing you. It looked quite fluffy, and had long floppy ears that were just as long as it torso. With the special fabric to be placed into its paw, it would surely be more than nice.

„I think the puppy is much cuter princess, don't listen to silly Kookie. Do you want this one my most precious?" Jimin asked, holding the larger dog in his hands.

It was grey and white, each limb and part of its body a different colour, with a big oval nose and large black eyes. The large ears only added to the cuteness; they were quite bigger than its own legs.

You smiled softly, patting the animal. It was very sweet, warming you up on the inside.

„But babycheeks, look at the tiger; it's so soft! And it's a snow tiger too; that means it's extra speci-”" Taehyung said, letting you run your fingers over the white stripey animal. It was very comfortable to touch, for sure.

„You guys, stop. Let her choose whatever she likes the most; which one is the best pup?” Namjoon asked, pulling you gently closer to himself.

To be truthful, he was eyeing the wolf plush on the higher shelf himself.

You looked over the many options, reaching for the one that caught your eye from the very beginning. You couldn't bring yourself to decide which one you liked better exactly; you were not sure of your decision.

Reaching for the lamb, you pulled out the plastic box, holding it close to yourself. Still looking over at the different-coloured one, Seokjin was quick to notice, taking it out for you too.

„You want both cubs? That's okay, they are adorable.” He was quick to calm you down, taking the box from your arms and placing it carefully at the very top of the cart.

And so, with those in, the alphas made sure to quickly praise your choice before you were all on your way to check out—the black lamb and the white lamb paid for first.

Taking them for you, you and Hobi stood near the check-out, looking over the two comfort companions the pack had decided to get for you.

”...the scent spot is then placed in the sown pocket; it's closed off with velcro so it won't fall out. There will instruction manual in the box too; don't worry.” The man said as he scanned the many items the alphas have chosen for you today.

„Okay, thank you very much.” The eldest alpha replied, thankful that the clerk could answer the few questions he had regarding the scent animal.

„No problem; you can always stop by and we will help with any issues.” The man answered, not really paying attention to what Jin was saying.

Thanking him softly, he paid, the few other alphas carrying the bigger bags. With Moonsik and Yuki already waiting for your group by the entrance, the beta carried a much smaller bag himself.

„It was so sweet to meet you!” Yuki said happily, glad to make a new friend—an omega at that.

You nodded yourself, smiling widely. You haven't made such a nice friend in a long time, and you were beaming with excitement.

„We have to go back home now, but we will go out together again, right?” You nodded happily, typing in the omega's number, and a few of the packmembers saved Moonsik's and Yuki's numbers too.

„Yes, I would love to!” You happily answered, linking your pinkie with his for a sealed promise. You wanted to hang out with the omega much more often; you two had already made a few plans for movies and shows you would like to watch together.

And so, soon, the pair waved you goodbye, walking off towards the main exit of the mall. „We still need to buy a few things, baby peaches; let's go see some other shops.” Jin said, smiling gently at you and linking your finger with his.

It didn't take too long before most of the men dispersed into a few different directions, making sure to say proper goodbyes to you and letting you know exactly where they would be.

With Jin, and Hobi having to go grocery shopping, Jungkook wanting to check out the game store, and a few other things too, Jimin and Taehyung went on towards the few clothing boutiques, sneakily checking your shoe size this morning, happy to buy you more clothes.

And so, Yoongi and Namjoon took a hand each, Namjoon carrying a bag from the bedding store himself. They both decided to take you around a few stores they liked the best.

The first stop was the book store. While it wasn't the biggest, the packalpha had already started planning a trip to the biggest in Seoul with you soon, it had a nice selection and therefore had the alpha hooked on checking it out.

It was well lit, with a few smaller sections upfront showcasing the new bestsellers and a larger proper row of many filled-up bookshelves in the back of the store.

„What type of books do you like the best?" He asked you, leaning towards you to hear you better. You liked to read; you always did, but with school hours, you didn't always have as much time for it as you hoped you would.

„Maybe the m-more psychological ones? With a deeper thought...” You whispered, looking up at the man. He smiled softly at you, his chin going over the top of your head in a calming motion.

„What a good choice, sweetheart. Alpha will go look for a few you might like; how 'bout that?” He asked, his thumb running over your knuckles.

You nodded shyly, smiling. Namjoon stood back up tall, patting your back gently before he went on through the book sections he had in mind. There were already a few good picks he remembered liking.

„Let's see what they have, hm, little kitty?”

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

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unknownmarley · 4 months

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⋆｡‧˚ʚ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ᴛᴇxᴀ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

𐙚⋆.˚ a multi part benny rodriguez fanfic

𐙚⋆.˚ benny rodriguez x crushing!fem!oc

𐙚⋆.˚ friends(kinda) to lovers, mutual pinning later in story, fem!oc hard crushing, fem!oc kinda dumb

⋆𐙚01

THE warm summer sun gently filtered through Cherry's delicate pink sheer curtains, casting a soft rosy hue over her room. As she stirred awake, a soft groan escaped her lips, her limbs tangled in the quilt adorned with a delightful cherry pattern that sprawled across her bed.

Slowly sitting up, Cherry blinked away the remnants of sleep, her eyes adjusting to the newfound brightness that flooded her room. With a small yawn, she stretched languidly, feeling the warmth of the morning sun kissing her skin. Letting her legs dangle off the edge of the bed, she savored the sensation of the gentle breeze caressing her bare skin.

Taking in the familiar sights of her room, Cherry's gaze lingered on her white vanity adorned with an array of makeup, perfume bottles, skincare products, and various knick-knacks. The pink walls were adorned with posters, which most were featuring Elvis Presley, whom she adored with a passion that bordered on obsession. Perhaps it was the allure of his soulful voice that sang those love songs or his captivating smile that drew her in.

Clutching the edge of her bed, Cherry lifted herself up, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpeting as she made her way towards the door. Pausing for a moment to admire the Elvis poster adorning her door, she wrapped her hand around the cool metal handle and gently pushed it open, stepping out into the hallway.

Descending the staircase, Cherry's hand trailed along the smooth wooden railing, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the soft carpeting. As she reached the bottom step, her eyes swept over the pristine interior of her home. Despite its breath taking appearance and luxurious furnishings, there was a distinct lack of warmth, as if the house were merely a stage set rather than a lived-in home.

Shaking off the melancholy thoughts, Cherry made her way to the kitchen, the silence of the house broken only by the sweet melody of birdsong drifting in through the open windows. A smile graced her lips as she listened to the symphony of nature, one of her favorite sounds in the world. But even the birdsong couldn't compete with the infectious laughter of Benny Rodriguez, the charming tan-skinned boy who had captured her heart since she first laid eyes on him after moving to California's San Fernando Valley the previous year.

With thoughts of Benny dancing in her mind, Cherry began her morning routine. Cherry hurriedly prepared a simple breakfast, hastily throwing slices of bread onto a plate and nearly burning her fingertips in the process. With a small exclamation of "ouchies," she quickly soothed her singed fingers by lightly licking them.

The shrill ring of the phone interrupted her morning routine, prompting Cherry to dart over to the wall-mounted phone. Balancing the receiver between her shoulder and ear, she deftly spread jam onto her toast as she answered in her unmistakable Texan accent, "Hello, you've reached the Benson family."

"Hii, my sweet girl Cherry, glad to talk to you too," chimed a familiar voice, followed by a chorus of giggles from the other end of the line.

Recognizing the voice of her best friend, Hallie, Cherry's demeanor instantly brightened. "Oh, Hallie, what a pleasure to hear from a lady like you," she replied, her smile widening as she spoke.

"Okay, so I was thinking we go to the sandlot for just a few minutes, so you can get a little peek at your dreamer boy, Benny!" she teased, adding playful emphasis to Benny's name.

"Hallie, what no!" Cherry protested, feeling her cheeks flush crimson at the mere mention of Benny's name. Though she had never spoken to him, her admiration for the tan-skinned boy from afar was undeniable. Unfortunately for Cherry, Hallie, her dear best friend and the next-door neighbor of the Benjamin Franklin Rodriguez, was determined to play matchmaker for the two teenagers.

"Come on, it's gonna to happen sooner or later. You and little Benny boy will soon be puppies in love," Hallie teased the poor girl who face was as red as a tomato.

"I don't even know why I told you about my crush on him." Cherry muttered, taking a bite of her now jam-coated toast and covering her mouth to stifle the sounds of her chewing.

"You told me because I'm amazing, and also ew, you're chewing so loud, you bum," Hallie scolded lightly.

Rolling her eyes, Cherry retorted, "Oh, whatever, acting all perfect like you've never pigged out on s'mores before."

"That was one time!" Hallie protested, her voice rising slightly, causing Cherry to wince at the sudden burst of noise in her ear. "But get ready, I'll be over in like twenty!"

With a soft sigh, Cherry pulled the phone away from her ear as Hallie hung up. Placing the phone back on its cradle, making her way back to her room upstairs.

AS the summer air hung heavy and humid around Cherry, Cherry stood outside her house waiting for Hallie, adjusting the folds of her crisp white tennis dress. Though the dress was more about style than function for her, she couldn't help but wear it with satisfaction, a smile playing on herlips.

Hallie's exuberant voice broke through the quiet, and she rushed out to Cherry, embracing her in a tight hug. "Oh my gosh, we're matching!" Hallie exclaimed, her hands resting on Cherry's shoulders as she admired the coordination of their outfits.

Cherry chuckled, returning the hug. "Great minds think alike!" she quipped, a wide grin spreading across her face as she glanced at her best friend. Before she could say more, Hallie tugged her along the sidewalk.

"We've got to hurry, can't have you missing your boyfriend's swing!" Hallie teased, gripping Cherry's hand as they walked. The rhythmic click of their heels echoed against the pavement.

"He's not my boyfriend!" Cherry protested, her cheeks flushing crimson as she glanced down, feeling silly for having a crush on a guy she spoke not even one word to. "I've barely even spoken to him," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"And?" Hallie retorted, rolling her eyes playfully. She let go of Cherry's hand, turning to face her embarrassed friend. "Well, that's changing today my sweet country pumpkin!" she declared with a grin, seizing Cherry's hand once more and pulling her through the narrow path that leaded to the sandlot which was now in sight showing the boys endless game of baseball it seemed.

The two girls stood at a safe distance from the game, quietly observing to avoid getting caught in the flurry of baseballs. Cherry's gaze landed on a small blonde boy she hadn't noticed before. Hallie explained that he had recently moved in a few houses down, but he seemed more interested in playing than in joining their little crush-induced escapade.

Hallie nudged Cherry, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Look over there, your little boy toy is up to bat!" she whispered, eliciting a heated blush from Cherry, who swatted her friend away with a muttered "shut up." As she absentmindedly fixed her chunky headband and refreshen her curled hair with a small fluff, if Benny did see her she wanted to look okay at-least.

Nevertheless, Cherry couldn't help but watch as Benny swung the bat with precision, the satisfying "thwack" of wood meeting ball echoing in her mind as the ball soared through the air.

Then came the moment that shattered the jovial atmosphere. The ball struck the new boy, sending him tumbling to the ground. Laughter erupted from the other boys, a chorus of mockery that cut through Cherry's empathy like a knife. While the situation might have been amusing in its absurdity, being laughed at by a group of seven must have been a crushing blow to the boy's ego.

Benny's reaction didn't include laughter; Cherry was quick to notice that. She couldn't help but pick up on every detail about the brown-haired boy, a habit she found embarrassing. As she observed him, she noticed the empathy etched on his face, mirroring her own feelings of discomfort for the blonde-headed boy.

"Okay, I'll get it!" the blonde kid yelled, his voice tinged with embarrassment as he slowly made his way towards the ball near the mangled scraped metal dirty fence. Cherry chewed nervously on her lip, feeling a pang of sympathy for the boy. His overly long hat bill only added to the embarrassment of the situation, amplifying the social suicide he seemed to be inadvertently committing with each step he took towards the ball.

As the blonde boy finally retrieved the ball, he hurried back, his steps rushed as he tripped over his own feet halfway there. Awkwardly returning to his original spot, he stood there with the ball in his hand.

"We're waiting!" a nasally voice screamed from one of the boys, his oversized glasses making him look like he raided his grandma's closet. Another voice chimed in impatiently, "Come on, throw it!"

The chorus of impatient demands intensified, directed at the boy who now looked like he'd had the worst week of his life. Cherrys heart crumbled for the poor boy, she could have sworn that she felt tears welling up just imagining herself in his shoes.

She watched with a sinking feeling as the blonde kid attempted to throw the ball, failing miserably as it barely traveled five feet before rolling pathetically. The boys' laughter crescendoed, their mocking comments piercing the air as the boy stood there, on the brink of tears, his face red with embarrassment and the threat of spilled tears.

Cherry watched in disbelief, her brows furrowing and her mouth hanging open in shock. Hallie seemed to share her sentiment, the two girls standing there as the kids continued to roll around laughing.

"Y'all are horrible!" Cherry screamed at the boys, but they paid her no mind, only laughing harder. Her eyes landed on Benny, who stared at her, disappointment evident not in her, but in his friends.

"That wasn't funny!" Hallie yelled at the guys as she grabbed Cherry's hand, pulling her away. Cherry's gaze lingered on Benny for a moment longer, feeling her face heat up with embarrassment before she looked away, letting Hallie lead her through the small path.

Cast ← → 02

#the sandlot x reader #the sandlot #fanfiction #fanfic #benny rodriguez x reader #benny rodriguez #oc x canon #x reader #fluff #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr

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pinksomovember · 11 months

Text

Day 2 - While Intoxicated [ao3]

Mya always had to pee when she got stoned. It just tended to sneak up on her, or maybe her awareness of her body just dialed up to 11 and she couldn’t help but notice it even when it was only a little bit full. Whatever it was, she got used to it.

She didn’t get high a lot. Maybe four or five times a month, on the occasional open evening that led into a day off or on the even rarer occasion that someone was offering at a party.

She liked to get high alone, in her studio apartment, using edibles. It was her favorite kind of high, syrupy and long lasting, and suited her purposes just fine. She’d map out her evening by streaming a handful of movies or shows she particularly liked, usually kid cartoons or the odd sitcom, something she could absolutely zone out and pay little attention to. She’d eat her way through half a bag of chips, a bar of chocolate, and a bag of something sugary sweet while sipping on cherry coke. She’d make a nest on her bed out of every pillow and blanket she owned and luxuriate in bacchanalian hedonism.

It was the height of laziness and decompression and exactly what Mya needed after the six-day-week her barista job had her pulling the past week. It was a Tuesday, sure, but Wednesday was her guaranteed day off and she was going to take advantage of it for the tail ends of her high.

She was all set up: She-Ra on the TV; blanket nest with the fluffiest blanket burritoed around her and three pillows propping her up; classic potato chips, a Dove chocolate bar, a bag of sour gummy worms, and three bottles of soda on standby. She’d taken the edible just over half an hour ago, and the effects were just beginning to kick in.

It only took another few minutes for Mya to feel the familiar ping of her bladder’s contents registering mentally. And not long after that time didn’t seem to matter all that much anymore.

She was sprawled across the bed, the most comfortable she’s ever felt in her entire life while one leg hung off the bed and the other was trapped under the weight of several blankets and maybe a pillow or two, when another far more insistent ping caught her notice.

Rather than the tingly type of feeling, almost like a small amount of pressure against her urethra, it was a whole lot heavier. Like she might actually be filling up her bladder. Not impossible, of course. She’d already drunk a full bottle of coke, the soothing coldness and sweet syrup and fizzy carbonation still leaving phantom ripples of sensation through her jaw and throat and mouth.

She was way too comfy to move, though. And even if she could it would be wobbly and strange and not nearly as wonderful and staying put in her bed. Besides, there weren’t any sour gummy worms to suck on in the bathroom, nor fuzzy blankets to become infatuated with (suddenly so soft as to feel like real fur instead of just the cheap ten-dollar throws with novelty prints sold at the end caps of Target).

Mya was rolling her hips lazily into whatever folded, twisted up mess her blankets had become—not really trying to get herself off (yet) but enjoying the way the pleasure radiated in slow, echoing ways through her pelvis and up her spine and down to her toes—when her bladder gave much more of a jolt than a ping.

With sudden clarity, Mya realized that she was completely and totally bursting.

Her bladder fucking hurt, cramping in the same light way that Mya always got in the week leading up to her period. Not incredibly painful, but noticeable and annoying and not particularly pleasant. She wasn’t the most slender of girls, but it wasn’t difficult to notice how firm her bladder had become. Physically hard, beneath the layer of pudge, that sent a spiky ache directly to her teeth when she prodded at it.

She groaned. She didn’t want to get up. It would ruin her whole…flow. Like a hammock swaddling her, or a raft drifting gently in the river. She rubbed her cheek against the quilt under her head. It was a little bit cool and the tiniest bit rough.

If she really were on a river, she’d be able to let go. Just a little bubble of warmth around her pelvis before that too washed away, drifting further and deeper out into the center of a gentle ocean. She wouldn’t have to move for anything, just stay exactly as she was. Maybe her ocean would be made out of cherry coke and she’d only have to roll her head to the side to get a sip, and perfectly crisp and salty potato chips would float around like fish and would jump into her mouth if she left it open for them.

Ow, Christ, that was right she had to pee.

It was actually starting to hurt, consistently. And not only that but the annoying desperation was ringing like a fire alarm in her brain. Surge after surge like ding, ding, ding. Or maybe more like clang, clang, clang. Dinging was too gentle of a word. This was a lot more aggressive than that.

Mya sighed, and decided to roll her hips just one or two more times before she’d get up to stumble to her bathroom, just across the room. It wouldn’t be impossible but it would take a bit of trial and error before she could get her bedding arranged so it would press up against her pussy just right. But since she really had to pee it was a loss she’d have to cope with…after a few more minutes.

Time flowed around Mya inconsequentially. To be fair to her, she really did think only a few more minutes had passed—and maybe that had. Either way she was quite abruptly reminded of how urgent her current situation actually was when she started to feel wetness between her legs.

“Shit,” she said, slurred a bit through the cottony feeling of her tongue. She immediately stuck her fingers into her pajama pants, probing up against her pussy through her cotton panties. Contradictory, she was completely dry.

The (mostly) direct stimulation was too much for her to handle. Her cunt was puffy and swollen, the way it only got when she was incredibly aroused, but not something her mind was able to keep mental tabs on at this point. A wave of arousal in the form of heightened blood flow must’ve been processed as warmth, that for whatever reason also processed as wetness.

She laughed a little bit. Fuck, she was way to high for this. She felt like how rubbing a hand across a fuzzy blanket did, or- no, not quite that insubstantial. More like suede rubbed the right way.

The blankets were all tangled around her. It made getting up nearly impossible, like they were all working together to pull her back down.

Mya stopped for a moment, standing up on her hands and knees on top of her bed.

Her room wasn’t making sense around her. Her body wasn’t really making sense, either. She really was too high for this. Getting to the bathroom was going to be a production, not to mention how difficult it would be to be when she actually got there. Only a handful of times before had she been in this state when having to walk around and most times ended with her sitting—on the toilet, in one experience, and on the floor for most of the others—desperately trying to process anything for at least half an hour.

She didn’t have a choice, though. She had to get up and she had to walk across her apartment and she had to get to the toilet. And she had to do it even though she was as high as shit.

Her bladder was heavy between her hips, weight perilously hanging with her new position. It took up almost all of her mental capacity, screaming at her that she had to pee desperately. She was so full, she was bursting, she was barely in control.

Mya made a strangled whimpering noise, hands flying to clumsily press against herself. She fell back to sit on her calves, but at least she was upright. Her head was spinning and her cunt was pulsing in time with her heartbeat, and she was pretty positive that her fingers could feel the spasms through her panties and pajama pants.

“Fuck me,” she whined to the empty room. She couldn’t cope with this situation, it was just too much.

She squeezed her thighs together tight around her hands. She could feel the bones in her fingers where they were bumping against each other and her knees feeling like they were sinking further and further into the bed even though she was definitely stationary. And, more than everything, she felt the solid roundness of her bladder pressing down against her poor, fluttering urethra.

She arched the small of her back, shoving her pussy further into her hands, trying to make it easier to hold it. She felt a creeping sort of panic start to come over her. The situation was really starting to set in.

Mya…didn’t know if she was going to be able to make it to the bathroom.

“Okay, okay…this is okay,” she mumbled to herself. “Just- just gotta…”

With considerable effort to coordinate all her limbs she rolled off of the bed and into a crouch on the floor. It became imminently worse for her poor bladder as it absolutely rioted for her to pee right where she was.

“Mmmmhmhm!”

Mya needed a few more minutes to orient herself with her new position before she even thought of standing up, but she didn’t have time for it. Her fingers were weak and clumsy in the way of someone newly awake or very intoxicated, and she couldn’t hold onto herself quite as tight as she needed to. In addition, she felt another strange burst of warmth that wasn’t actually a leak but felt a whole lot like one—enough to feel almost like the start of relief.

So, despite the spinning of the room, she tried to get on her feet. Only to stumble and need to catch herself against her bed.

“Fuck,” she whimpered. She couldn’t even tell which way was up or which way was down, except that her feet were both on the floor and only one hand was helping her hold her pee hole shut. But she knew she had to get to the bathroom now. “Oh god, I have to pee so bad. Fuck, fuck.”

Still, she waited until she could at least tell up from down before risking venturing off across her apartment.

She took a step, and then another. It was really more of an awkward hobble, thighs squeezed tight and both hands pressed up against herself. Incredibly slow going. It felt like she was moving through molasses, like she was in molasses. The same way running in a dream felt, when you were on the precipice of awareness but still asleep enough to not be aware of the waking world, unable to move the way you knew you should.

“C’mon,” Mya told herself. “C’mon, c’mon.”

Her bladder was so heavy it might as well have taken up her entire abdomen. She felt pregnant with it, like she was carrying gallons and gallons of piss.

“Just gotta…to the bathroom. C’mon. C’mon.”

At first, Mya didn’t even realize it was happening. It wasn’t until she felt wetness on her calves that she noticed that oh, actually, her thighs and her hands and very rapidly her feet were also getting wet.

Even then she still took several steps before processing what was happening.

“I’m wetting myself?” she blurted to the empty apartment, incredulous. She hadn’t, at any point in the process, thought that she might actually lose control. It wasn’t something that she could ever remember doing, even as a small child. She hadn’t had an accident since she was a toddler and yet…yet here she was wetting herself like a baby in her own home.

Now that she was realizing, though, it started to feel really, really good.

The pee was pouring out of her, soaking up in the thin fabric of her pajama pants and streaming in rivulets down her legs. Not having much space between the pushed-together-thighs, her butt and the backs of her legs was ending up receiving the brunt of it. It was forming a puddle on the ground at her bare feet.

It was warm and nice in the way a hot shower or bath was, pleasant and not in the slightest bit icky despite the nature of what it was and the fact that she was still fully dressed. Mya haltingly took her uncurled herself, letting her legs spread apart a little and taking her hands away from her pussy.

And just like that, the relief hit her.

She couldn’t help but moan, high and breathy. Her eyes were rolling up into her head and her knees started to wobble.

“Oh god,” she whimpered.

It was pleasure like no other she’d felt before. Not quite orgasmic, but somewhere adjacent. It was all consuming and coursing through her veins while pee was still coursing from her ruined pee hole. She could barely even remember to breathe.

It went on for what might as well have been forever. Logically, Mya knew it was probably a couple of minutes—a long time for a piss, but not really too long in the scale of things. When it was over, it was all Mya could do to tremble and stand still. Every few moments her pussy would pulse and shivers would wrack their way up her spine.

Mya only started to stir from her stupor when the pee started to cool to an unpleasant degree, and she realized she was shivering more from the chill than the remnants of pleasure.

She looked dumbly down at the mess on the floor—mostly just the laminate flooring of the hallway, which she had at least managed to reach, but also spreading out far enough to soak into the edges of her bedroom carpet.

“Fuck me,” she said, this time for an entirely different reason then before. She had no idea where to start to clean this up, much less the mental capabilities of managing to follow through with it.

Laboriously, she peeled her pajama pants off herself and let them fall with a distinct plop into the puddle. After followed her cotton panties, stained nearly entirely a darker shade of blue.

Unable to do anything else, she climbed back up into her bed with her legs still shining with wetness. Everything else would be a problem for herself tomorrow.

#omorashi #omovember #fem omo #piss kink #day 2 #fic

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