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honestly-mad-person · 2 months

Text

YOU'RE MY SECRET

｡･:*˚:✧ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡･:*˚:✧ genre: smut (oral sex, vaginal sex, moans, orgasm, wet sounds, first sex)

｡･:*˚:✧ word count: 7,7K (The biggest story, yeah)

｡･:*˚:✧ a/n: When I was writing the story, I couldn't throw away the storyline of Chapter 8. How does he feel when he sees MC? Is he afraid of losing her again or will his unwavering love for her guide him through the stars so that your eyes can meet again?

In this story, I tried to describe the MC's inner feelings as if it were familiar to her. It's like it was there, but she can't remember. She'll never remember.

I want to answer MS's question about his experience on behalf of Xavier about his chastity:

"I imagined you many times, I imagined your body, and I studied a lot to fulfill the most intimate desires of your soul at the right time."

In a way, he was virginal. But next to you, he could not restrain his predatory nature.

This has nothing to do with the original character and is entirely my take on the situation.

Enjoy your reading! See ya next time!

The sun outside the window was already sinking below the horizon, filling the living room with a warm, golden color.

Looking at the cityscape, your gaze shifted to the blond haired boy sitting across from you at the table. There was a rustle and his fingers turned the page of the book. Silence reigned in the room again, broken only by barely audible breathing.

Looking at his face, as always serious, you were not thinking about your book, but about how attractive he is. His features seemed softer in the evening sunlight.

Xavier's eyes smoothly moved from one side of the page to the other, absorbing the text and occasionally they closed for a moment. Whenever this happened, his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings.

Propping his head with his hand, he was constantly reading a book he had recently bought in a bookstore. You had one of his personal books from bookshelf.

The sight of him made the corners of your lips turn up. An outstanding young man. An experienced hunter. And part-time your boyfriend. However, there was something strange about him.

Somehow, you were watching a movie in the evening, cuddling. When your hand accidentally landed on his thigh, near his private area, he winced and looked down to tell you that your hand was not where it should be and asked him to remove it.

Confused, you looked at him. Up close, you could see how he shyly looked away, and the tips of his ears flashed a blush.

Suddenly, a thought flashed in your head. Did he have someone before you?

It would be awkward to ask him about it. Besides, he never told you everything directly. You should have asked him about what interested you in him, as Xavier immediately changed the subject.

Although you were officially a couple, there was nothing beyond kissing. Xavier never even kissed you deeply. Just sweet and innocent kisses on the lips.

Today, you wanted to know the truth. The truth that he tries so hard to hide from you.

In a moment you realize that his blue eyes are watching you. Coming back to reality, you blinked a few times.

— What? – asked Xavier, keeping his hand on the page he was just reading.

— What are you talking about? – you asked, not understanding the reason for this question.

— You… – he said quietly, drawing your gaze to his lips. – You’re looked at me...

— Indeed?

— Yes, – nodding his head, his lips barely parted. – Do I have something on my face?

— No, nothing like that, – you continued with a smile. – You just look even more beautiful in the evening light.

Hearing these words, Xavier looked away in embarrassment towards the window. He does it again. He tries not to look at you when you make him blush.

— Hey, Xav, – you called softly, tilting your head to the side.

— The sun is setting beautifully, – he said absently, without turning his head.

Looking at the horizon, you saw a really beautiful picture.

The sun was already half visible, and the sky surrounding it exploded with incredibly beautiful colors, iridescent from yellow-hot to purple. The clouds shone in the evening light, shimmering with a pearly sheen.

Suffocating at this beauty, you didn't immediately realize that you had fallen into another Xavier trap.

Mentally slapping yourself on the forehead, you turned your gaze back to him. Predictably, seizing the moment, he plunged back into his reading. It's tricky. Very clever.

— Xavier, – you said confidently, breaking the silence.

— Yes? – raising his head, he looked at you as if nothing had happened before.

— Tell me, do you have experience with women? – directly asking, you leaned towards him, placing your hands on the table. – And don't even think of running away from it.

— What do you mean by… – Xavier fell silent, looking into your eyes, fascinated by their beauty and brilliance.

— What I said, – was the answer immediately. – Have you kissed a woman for real?

Xavier was silent. His eyes slowly wandered over your face, sometimes going down, then going up. Soon, he spoke.

— Yes, with you – his look changed a little, but you couldn't understand what was wrong with him. – To be more precise, today at lunch and before going to the shopping center.

Stunned by this, you let out a heavy breath, forcing your eyebrows raised in surprise to fall back to their usual place.

— I'm not asking about myself, but in general, – clarifying, your gaze was fixed on him.

A shadow of embarrassment fell on his face and touching the tip of his nose with his fingers, he reluctantly answered.

— Not sure it happened to anyone but you…

— Not sure if it wasn't?

Under such pressure, Xavier looked away again. This time, not only his ears were red, but also his cheeks.

You got tired of this uncertainty, so you got up from the table, pushing your chair back.

A new noise caught Xavier's attention and he tensed up noticeably as he looked at you as you approached him. He mechanically pushed his chair back, sitting facing you.

— What?... – he didn't have enough time to finish his question, because the tips of your fingers touched his jaw, gently tracing the skin to his chin.

This small action made him lift his head and look into your eyes, which you could see the sunset in if you looked closely.

— Let's play a game, Xavier, – you said quietly, as if afraid that someone else might overhear your secret conversation. – The game is called "Don't look away."

— I don't like the name of this game anymore, – replied Xavier, feeling the warmth of your fingers and realizing that he won't be able to protect himself from you for long.

— Look into my eyes and don't look away, okay? – your fingers started moving again, releasing from his chin and barely touching his skin, moving down his neck, making him shudder briefly.

— What are you doing? – he said quietly, again visibly blushing.

His eyes continued to look into yours. A slight shiver went through your body at the realization of what exactly you wanted to do.

The tips of your fingers gently touched Xavier's neck and in the silence of the kitchen, in which there was still the smell of lemon cookies baked by you at the request of the owner of the apartment, you could clearly hear his uneven breathing.

Lowering your gaze, you looked at your fingers exploring every inch of his skin. Noticing that Xavier turned his head to the side, you sharply raised your eyes to his face.

— Xavier, I can look away and you can't, – you remarked, waiting for your eyes to meet again.

— I don't understand why you're doing this, – he asked quietly, clearing his throat.

You felt the vibration of each word with your fingers, shifting your gaze from his eyes to the fingers resting on his neck.

— I want to play with you, – you answered, continuing to move downwards, following your hands, which were kissing down from the neck to the chest.

You felt the soft fabric of his homemade sweater, which he didn't wear almost every day. Sometimes, you saw him wearing other clothes. You had some doubts if Xavier knew how to use a washing machine, but today you could smell the pleasant smell of air conditioner all day. It was hard not to keep from poking my nose into his chest and inhaling that magical smell of freshly washed clothes.

A heart beat under your fingers. It rattled a little faster than it should have, but you chalked it up to the closeness between you.

As your hands dropped below your chest, his hand grabbed your wrist. Looking up, you looked into his eyes.

Confused, he looked at you.

— Stop, – he said, still holding your hand.

— Xavier, – you said, bringing your face closer to his. – Don't move.

His eyes widened when you got close enough to barely touch his lips with yours. His weak breath touched your lips, fearing to somehow harm you.

Smirking the corner of your lips, you closed your eyes as you kissed him. Your wrist was squeezed tighter, but ignoring it, you touched the back of his neck with your other, free hand. A tremor was felt under your fingers. Your heart skipped a few beats and moaning softly against his lips, you pulled away from him, breaking the kiss.

Taking in Xavier's eyes, filled with confusion and curiosity, you smiled again.

— Do you want more? – you asked and received in response his silent nod of the head. – Then let go of my hand and sit tight, okay?

Your voice sounded gentle, as if you were asking your dog to obey your commands.

Fingers reluctantly parted, letting go of your wrist and placing his hands on his lap, Xavier continued to look into your eyes.

— Good boy, – you purred contentedly, connecting your lips again in a kiss.

Placing your hands around his neck, your fingers slowly trailed up her rear, causing another wave of shivers. Plunging them into your hair, you lightly squeezed it. From this, you felt a barely audible moan on your lips.

Your heart pounded in your chest again, causing the tips of your ears to light up.

This innocent, at first glance, reaction of Xavier caused you to have the dirtiest thoughts about him. The way you controlled him, the way he responded to your touch, all of it made the warmth of his stomach rise.

Unable to resist, your tongue defiantly ran between his lips, demanding that he let you inside.

Fidgeting, Xavier hesitated for a few seconds, but after your fingers tightened on his hair, he obediently let you pass.

A moan of pleasure echoed through the kitchen and you weren't sure which one of you had created it.

Your tongue explored new territory, teasing with his tongue. Xavier didn't respond to your actions, giving you the upper hand in this little game. It made you even more convinced that he was a virgin. Soon, you felt a weak and unsure response from him.

Surprised, you broke the kiss and pulled away from him, breathing heavily.

— Did I… do something wrong? – he asked innocently, looking into your eyes.

When Xavier returned your kiss, you felt the air in your chest suddenly run out and you felt a little dizzy.

Looking down at his hands, which were clenched into fists, you felt dizzy again. For unknown reasons, you wanted to touch them, so that they would gently caress your cheeks, neck, chest, stomach, and even in your mind you imagined these fingers buried deep inside you.

Your body responded to such thoughts with an appropriate reaction. Blushing, you looked up at Xavier and looking into his eyes, you felt your underwear getting wet.

— Oh, you're blushing, – he remarked in his voice, still looking at you.

— It's hot, that's all, – dismissing his words, you were about to remove your hands, until suddenly he grabbed your wrist again.

Looking at him with a dumb question, you watched as he pressed your palm to his cheek, staring at you.

— Please don't go, – he whispered softly, rubbing against your hand, holding it gently with his hand. – Did I do something wrong?

Your brain shut down. Xavier looked at you with the same "puppy" look. Mixed with your lewd thoughts about him and the way he was gently rubbing his cheek against your hand, it made you freeze in place, not giving you a chance to resist such critical damage.

There was a sharp sting in your chest and you, red as a tomato, pulled out your hand, pressing it to your chest.

— Xavier, you! – suffocating from his mercy and the shame of your thoughts, you continued to mumble something incoherent. – Bamn…

Xavier just tilted his head to the side, looking sadly at you, still holding his hand where your hand was for a few seconds.

After giving you some time to cool down, Xavier reached out a hand in your direction, not daring to touch you.

You looked at his fingers, then at his face. He wasn't looking at you anymore. His gaze, filled with sadness and pity, was fixed on his outstretched hand, which seemed to be trying to grasp something in the air.

Your heart throbbed again and, exhaling, you took his hand. He suddenly looked up, looking into your eyes.

— Just a little more, – you said and, approaching him, stood between his legs, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His head was at the level of your stomach. Still hesitant, he gently wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his cheek against yours.

With a smile on the corner of your lips, your fingers gently scratched his head, going through his hair, while your gaze was directed at the already faded sky.

— I'm sorry if I did something wrong, – Xavier suddenly muttered, pulling you away from the view.

— No, you didn't do anything wrong, – you immediately assured, blushing again at your own thoughts.

A few more kisses like that and you could really pounce on him as if you were hungry for a plate of hot and delicious food.

You were drawn to him like a magnet and it was difficult for you to resist this force. You understood this best when Xavier returned your kiss.

— Then why did you stop touching me? – he asked again in his innocent voice.

It made you shudder. Fingers froze.

— Well, it's hard to say... – trying to find words, you mumbled under your breath. – Well...

— I want more, – came to your ears as Xavier's hands fell on your thighs and gently, but firmly, sat you on his knee.

Squealing, you looked into his eyes and wanted to pour him a whole wagon and a small bucket of outrage about this, but when you met his gaze, you froze. He seemed normal, but something was still wrong.

You saw in his eyes a vague reflection of yourself in the evening rays. The longer you looked, the stronger the attraction to him became. His eyes, like a black hole, pulled you deeper and deeper.

You were pulled out of this trance by his hand, which touched your burning cheek.

— You're looking at me like that again… – Xavier said in a quiet and calm voice.

— H-how? – you asked, touching his palm with your fingers.

— As if there is something on my face, – shrugging his shoulders, he gently stroked his cheek with his thumb. – So… are you going to continue your game or not?

Biting your lip, you felt your face flush again.

— Why do you blush so often? – asked Xavier, looking into your face.

— It's not as important as the fact that… – you paused and exhaled, relaxing. - I don't want to play anymore...

Your words madeXavier freeze. Even his stroking stopped. He looked into your eyes silently.

— I don't want to play with you, I want to kiss you again, – clarifying, your palms touched his face and your lips quickly found what they needed so much. Its warmth.

The last line of defense was destroyed. What you had planned as a scouting mission to get information turned into the fact that you couldn't tear yourself away from his lips.

They seemed so familiar, so warm and welcome that it was really hard to stop even for a second.

Xavier pushed you away ever so slightly, but still gently, occasionally breaking the kiss to give the two of you a chance to take a few gulps of fresh air before your lips pressed together again.

Losing your head from the desire this boy was awakening in your body, you melted every time your tongues intertwined in a passionate dance. He absorbed you, absorbed like a black hole absorbs light, without letting it out.

The only thing you longed for, what you reached for at this moment, was Xavier. His lips, so hot from many kisses, his tongue, which was already confidently responding to you, his hands, which hugged you with a firm grip, pressing you to him.

Your knee touched his groin and moaning into his lips, you felt that you weren't the only one turned on. Breaking away from him with difficulty, you looked at his face, stained with blush. You were both breathing heavily as you looked at each other. Xavier didn't move, as if he was afraid that you would run away if he made even one move.

Your hand rested on his chest and slid down. Looking into your eyes, Xavier barely furrowed his brows, still breathing heavily.

— What are you... – he didn't have time to finish the sentence, as a moan that broke from his lips resounded in the room. – Damn…

His eyebrows came together at the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, he leaned towards you, resting his head on your shoulder. Your other hand rested on his back, stroking his spine with the tips of your fingers. You heard a muffled moan again as your other hand traced his cock through the fabric of his house pants. What you felt confused you a little. You didn't expect that Xavier would turn out to be… a little bigger than you imagined.

You tried to imagine him in your mouth, you thought about whether he would at least enter.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by another moan and an arm wrapping around your waist, digging his fingers firmly into your side. Taking a deep breath, you felt dizzy and tinnitus again. Tomorrow you will definitely find bruises from his fingers on your body.

— Xavier, – you whispered into his ear, as if he were a child seeking refuge on his mother's chest. – Do you hear me, Xavier?

— Mgh… – he groaned, barely nodding his head.

— Relax, – your lips touched his ear, sending shivers down his body.

It even seemed to you that this tremor was heard below as well, as if his member also twitched at the signal of the body.

— Please, – he whispered hoarsely, not taking his eyes off you. – Don’t go…

Something about his words made you wince. Why did he ask you not to go? Why did he say that? Did you give him any reason to think that? Was it something else? Blinking, you couldn't clearly define the reason that could cause these words. Your lips touched his temple, giving him the softest kiss full of love.

— I won't go anywhere from you, – you answered, feeling how tightly he gripped your waist. – I will always be with you.

He flinched at your words. You stopped, still keeping your hand on his already wet pants from the pre-ejaculate.

His head slowly lifted from your shoulder. Meeting his eyes, you felt your heart freeze. You saw longing, fear and need in his eyes.

— What... – not being able to say anything else, you felt an extremely strong desire to comfort him.

Your lips met his again, when you were about to remove your hand from his erection, until suddenly, he stopped you from doing so, placing his hand on yours.

Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours, touching the tips of his nose.

— Please… – he whispered, barely shaking his head.

You lost your mind not only at his physical proximity, but also at how defenseless he seemed.

— Xavier, – you whimpered softly, pressing your forehead against his.

No matter how much you wanted it, but gently pushing him away from you with your free hand, you looked into his eyes.

— Let me go, – you asked, looking at your waist. – I won't go anywhere, I promise.

Xavier put a lot of effort into letting you go. His brows came together again at the bridge of his nose as his fingers parted, giving you your freedom. His eyes were locked on you as you rose from his lap.

Xavier looked as if he was ready to rush after you at that very second if you suddenly disappeared from his life. You had rarely seen him so tense and it broke your heart.

Slowly kneeling down in front of him, you placed your hands on his hips.

— Everything is fine, you have nothing to worry about, – stroking him, you felt how his left leg twitched.

— You… – Xavier whispered, touching your shock with his fingers. – You don't need to do this...

— Shh, – drawing sharply, you rubbed against his arm, running your fingers up his thighs.

Groaning, Xavier covered his eyes. His hand barely felt as your fingers caught on the elastic of your pants.

— Xavier, – you just said his name, when suddenly he lowered himself a little lower, for your convenience.

Smirking the corner of your lips, you pulled at the elastic, pulling Xavier's house pants down. Underneath them you saw dark blue boxers, in which his excited member was clearly visible with a wet stain on them.

Your lips touched his shaft through the fabric. Xavier groaned again, breathing heavily.

You understood that he wanted it. I wanted you to take it sooner. I wanted to be in you faster. Fill you with myself. Cling to your body and never let go. And it made you happy. Be glad that your desires were mutual.

Pulling off his underwear, his slender member was in front of your eyes, barely twitching with excitement. A transparent pearl of pre-ejaculatory substance was visible on the head. Having examined him completely, you saw a vein that swelled like a snake on him. Your insides groaned with desire and wasting no time, you took yours. The tip of the tongue passed over the vein.

Xavier's moans echoed throughout the kitchen as you held his base with your fingers and sucked his hot cock into your mouth.

— God, yes.. yes.. S-so hot.. – he moaned, throwing his head back every time his cock was fully inside, brushing the tip of your throat. - P-please, please, don't stop...

You didn't plan to stop. You wanted everything he could give you. Everything, to the last drop. You will suck everything out of him.

You felt how his cock, pulsating, rubbed against your tongue and stopped somewhere in your throat. Suppressing the tears that rolled into your eyes, you with even greater efforts did everything to bring Xavier maximum pleasure.

The wet sounds from each plunge of his cock into your mouth merged with Xavier's moans and echoed off the walls, dissolving into the air.

— Oh fuck… – Xavier whined, running his fingers through your hair. – D-don't stop... Please... please, I… I need to… please..

His whimpers and moans made you flow harder, harder as the head of his cock slid into your mouth. His fingers gripped your hair tighter, helping you move your head.

— Please… – Xavier kept whining, moving his hips to meet you.

You were no less crazy from his actions than he was from yours. Your swollen lips slid over his shaft, sucking more and more. You gave him what he wanted and you liked it.

— Fuck, p-princess, – Xavier threw his head back with a trembling voice. - I so want... to cum…

In the mix of the wet smacking of your lips against his cock, you opened your eyes wide, looking at him with a look of complete debauchery. Your mouth began to work even faster until your fingers, forming a ring, moved from below, from his base up, until they met your lips.

You swallowed his cock like your life depended on it. You desperately needed to get his cum. You needed her.

— P-princess! – Xavier whined, trembling under your lips like an autumn leaf in the wind. – Wait! Stop, please!

Ignoring his pleas, you looked up at him, the way his eyes rolled in pleasure and the way he tried to push you away from him.

Your hands rested on his hips as your lips pressed into a ring around his cock. The tip of your nose touched his groin every time you swallowed.

— Please, please, stop, I.. I'm coming soon, – Xavier begged you to stop, unable to watch the way you ate him down below.

In response, you tightened your fingers around his pants, pressing your entire tongue against his length, enveloping him in the warmth of your wet mouth.

Gritting his teeth, Xavier tried to keep himself from letting his cum down your throat. You both fought. He was fighting not to cum, but you demanded it from him.

Your mouth, your throat, your tongue, which so kindly received his cock, did not give him a chance. In the process of another absorption, his hips twitched and made a movement to meet your mouth.

Xavier let out a soft whimper and you felt the hot cum rush down your throat. After swallowing some of the liquid, tears welled up in your eyes. Too deep, too much. But you accepted him. Taking every drop he gave you, flooding your throat and mouth with his cum.

Feeling him twitch inside you, you slowly let him out of your mouth, squeezing the shaft and head with your lips one last time.

Looking up, you saw Xavier leaning back in his chair, breathing heavily. His fingers still gripped the edge of the table as his other hand covered his face.

You felt the remains of the sticky sperm on your tongue and swallowed it along with the saliva, licking your lips.

— Xavier? – quietly speaking his name, you stroked his thighs, but he did not answer you. – Did you fall asleep?

Giggling, you got up from your knees and were about to touch his hand with yours, until suddenly he grabbed your hand first.

With a quick movement of his free hand, Xavier dropped everything on the table to the floor. There was the sound of falling books and the clink of a broken plate of lemon cookies.

You didn't have time to look at the mess Xavier had made from putting you on the table like you were a rag doll. The table creaked piteously as the hi's hands rested on its surface. Immediately, he pressed his hips against you as if he had always been between your legs.

— Let me show you how I can work… – he whispered, his lips falling on your neck.

This time, your sonorous moans filled the room as his lips left small, burgundy kiss marks and teeth marks on you again and again. As if mad, he bit your skin, licked it with his tongue and then bit again. Arching your back from his every movement, you felt how he lit a real fire in the bottom of your stomach.

His hand crawled under your shirt and went up to find your breast.

You moaned even louder as fingers pinched your nipple, playing with it.

— Xavier! – with a voice hoarse from excitement, you bent over to meet him.

His hands pulled your shirt up and leaving your neck alone, his lips kissed your breasts, squeezing them with his fingers. Xavier moaned softly in unison with you as his lips covered one nipple then the other. The hot tip of his tongue caressed the tip, sucking it into his mouth.

Throwing your head back, you whimpered, not knowing where to put your hands. The feel of him squeezing your breasts, biting them, made your body squirm beneath him.

His lips left new marks on your skin as they trailed down.

— Why do you look at me so often with your eyes... – he rasped, running his entire tongue from that navel up to the stomach, looking at you with eyes full of desire.

Breathing heavily, you barely felt any movement from Xavier, giving you some time to rest. Your breasts, swollen and covered with traces of his kisses, rose up from the accelerated breathing and shook from a strong heartbeat.

Xavier waited patiently for an answer as he moved up to your face, looking at your red hot face, eyes closed, lashes fluttering and lips swollen from the kisses and what you had done to him a few minutes ago.

— You hear me? – Xavier rasped, leaning down to your lips, barely touching them.

— Ahhh.… – you moaned without opening your eyes and reached for a kiss, until suddenly he pulled away from you. – What?...

When your eyelashes fluttered again and you opened your eyes, you met his gaze with his extremely beautiful blue eyes.

— Why do you keep looking at me with that look of yours? – he repeated his question, running his hand over your cheek.

— What look? – your voice also sounded hoarse, but it didn't bother you much.

— A look like… – Xavier held back the growing desire in himself, which could be seen by the emotion his face was now expressing.

Furrowing his brows, he shook his head as if remembering your eyes at that moment. Licking his lips with the tip of his tongue, he looked at you with a faint smile at the corners of his lips.

— You look at me like I'm your dog, – he said, pressing himself against your crotch.

Your eyes widened as you felt his cock turn to hard again, rubbing against you.

Xavier was leaning against the table, barely breathing as he stared into your eyes as his hips moved on their own. Throwing your head back, you closed your eyes, moaning softly.

— Xavier, I didn't… – you started searching for words to excuse yourself, but feeling fingers on your cheek, you opened your eyes, looking up at him.

— If that's what you want, I'll be your dog, – he said, confidently maintaining eye contact. – I will.

Your heart froze for a second when the meaning of what was said came to your mind. Your body, excited by his touch, stretched like a string.

— I'll be your dog, – Xavier repeated in your ear, pressing his body against you.

The table creaked pitifully again as his hips began to slowly rub against you as his hot breath burned your ear.

— X-xavier… – you begged, shaking under his weight.

— Do you want me to bark for you? – he whispered with a hint of fun in his voice. - Woof, woof…

— Stop, please… Ah… – his hip movements became faster, making you whimper even more at the feeling of his cock rubbing against you through the fabric of your pants.

— Princess… – Xavier whispered, pulling away from you and looking into your eyes that clearly read an uncontrollable, raging desire, he moaned softly, narrowing his eyes.

In your thoughts, you really compared Xavier to a puppy. You took care of him, fed him and stroked him when needed. Now, there was nothing in him that combined him with that Xavier - sweet, shy and funny.

From one look at him, you felt how every cell of your body burned, how your womb wanted him inside, how your lips wanted his lips, how your body wanted to be pressed by his body, you felt how you needed Xavier.

Xavier, who one moment is looking at you in confusion at your next stupidity, and the next he's caressing your breasts with his tongue.

Almost crying with excitement, you nodded your head.

- Good! Xavier, I beg you, please, – you begged, arching your back and feeling his arousal below.

— Then let me satisfy you in a way that only I can, – his voice sounded in your ear and after kissing the corner of your lips, he lowered himself down.

Biting the tip of your finger, you lifted your head as you watched as Xavier trailed a wet trail of kisses down your body.

He stirred your butterflies even more when his lips stopped below the waistband of your pants. Looking up at you, he unbuttoned first the button and then the zipper, pulling the tab down. His hands carefully pulled your pants off your thighs, leaving you in your panties.

Feeling the fabric slide down your ankles, you bucked your hips shyly. Seeing this, Xavier gave you a surprised look, but without saying anything, he leaned into your stomach. Lips gently touched the skin, causing goosebumps.

Hitting your head on the table, you felt the heat from his lips. His hands touched your thighs and after stroking the tender skin, his fingers tightened.

A moan escaped your lips as Xavier jerked you closer to him, to the edge of the table which creaked once again. His gentle stroking made you feel more comfortable and without realizing it, you relaxed.

— Good girl, – Xavier whispered, his nose touching the fabric of your panties before pulling them off you. – I'm going crazy from your smell...

— Stop it… – you whispered, ashamed of his words.

He just giggled at your response.

The cold air touched your skin as Xavier carefully removed your panties and dropped them on the floor. Kneeling in front of you, he let out a stifled moan, inspecting your lust-soaked pussy.

— I want… – he said, wrapping his arms around your hips and pressing his lips to yours.

As if you were electrocuted, you bent over, groaning. Feeling his tongue moving between your folds, touching your clit, you lost the ability to breathe.

His tongue moved slowly, mixing your juices with his saliva. When his tip hit your clit, he lingered on it, pressing lightly. Your body responded to Xavier's caresses with even stronger tremors. His arms draped your legs over his shoulders, gripping your trembling hips.

Licking every millimeter of your pussy, he reveled in your moans that erupted from the depths of your chest. He tormented you with his rhythm, making your back arch every time his tongue touched your clit. Moaning from the pleasure he was bringing you, his tongue circled around the pearl for his lips to gently suck your clit.

— God, Xavier, please… – breathless and feeling dizzy, you grabbed his hair, squeezing your hips. – So good... Ah, please... Faster...

Your whining mixed with the wet sounds and spread throughout the kitchen. His fingers tightened on her hips and he obediently sped up, moving his tongue. Your eyes sparkled with pleasure. Holding him to you with trembling hands, you felt that you were already on the verge.

— Xavier, nghh… Yes, so good! Don’t... ah.. Don’t stop... – you fell silent, arching from the sharp shock of the current throughout your body, which started from the bottom of your stomach and spread throughout your body.

Your entire consciousness has been compressed to a single point. To the point below, which your sweet dog licked mercilessly with his tongue. A wave of shivers slowly rolled over you. Your body shook, your thighs squeezing Xavier's head in orgasm, threatening to crush him. Hitting your head on the table again, you sobbed, feeling that Xavier didn't think to stop there.

Letting go of his hair, you tried to somehow crawl away from him, but his firm grip on your hips prevented you from doing so.

— Stop, – you begged quietly, shaking from his tongue, still absorbed in the orgasm.

Squirming on the table, tears of pleasure fell from your eyes and it wasn't until you sobbed that Xavier stopped. His tongue trailed over your entrance, oozing your pleasure. He collected every drop, leaving nothing behind. You could feel his tongue inside as he moved inside you and losing the ability to breathe, you clenched your teeth.

— Yummy, – Xavier said, pulling away from you.

Barely finding the strength to raise your head to look at him, you clenched your whole body. With his usual calm expression on his face, he licked his lips with the tip of his tongue, wiping his wet chin with his fingers before licking the remains of your orgasm off of them.

Throwing your head back, your gaze went to the ceiling. You felt exhausted. Your head was spinning with pleasure, your heart was pounding wildly, and your body still sometimes shuddered. There was a rustle and Xavier's face appeared in your field of vision.

You moaned as you felt his cock brush against your pubic bone, his lips falling to your neck again.

— Xav… – you begged hoarsely and quietly, slowly regaining control over your body.

— Yes? – he mumbled, hiding in the crook of your neck.

— I... I want you… – you said, wrapping your weak arms around his neck, pressing him to your chest. – Please…

You felt him tense under your hands. Moaning softly, he pressed against your body for a while longer, inhaling your scent. Pulling back, he slipped out of your arms and looked into your eyes.

— You… are you sure? – he asked, swallowing loudly.

You nodded and looked down, touching his neck with your fingers, smiling gently.

— I want to belong to you not only with my heart, but also with my body, – looking into his wide-open eyes again, you smiled even wider. – I want to give you everything I have: my thoughts, my love, my body, my desires, my pleasure, my life...

He shuddered at the last words. His look changed. It became darker. You looked again into the black hole that swallowed you.

— Say it… – he whispered, looking into your eyes. – Say it again... Please...

— I want to give you everything, – you repeated, holding back your laughter. – From my thoughts to my life. It's all just for you.

His lips pressed greedily into yours. The salty taste of your orgasm made your head spin again. You went crazy with the realization of how hard he worked to make you cum and the heat spread again in the lower part of your stomach.

Xavier's tongue immediately entered your mouth, taking complete control of the kiss, causing you to moan into his lips. You began to gasp, unable to fight his onslaught. Your hands touched his neck, shoulders and went down to his chest, reaching his cock.

You heard a moan as your fingers brushed against his shaft as your hips desperately tried to get into a position to drive him into your lap, but without Xavier's help you were having no luck.

After breaking the kiss, he barely touched your lips with his for some time, breathing heavily.

— Xavier, please.. move, – you whispered, almost whining against his lips.

Without answering, he moved his hips away from you, allowing you to direct him. Your heart pounded as the head of his cock thrust into your passage.

— Please, – you begged again as Xavier looked into your eyes, increasing the distance between your faces.

— I won't be able to stop, – he muttered, blushing.

— I don't want you to stop, – you shook your head sharply, taking his face in your hands. – You have to make me yours, remember?

A light flashed in his eyes and moving one hand to the edge of the table, above your head, he supported his cock with the other, penetrating you. Your womb met his hot and wet, making you both gasp at the sensation.

Leaning towards you, you touched your foreheads to each other and closed your eyes, enjoying the merger. Your hands were still holding his face as his cock slowly stretched you from the inside, filling you up.

— Xavier… – you whispered, feeling your walls squeeze his throbbing length inside you.

— Oh... fuck.. it's so tight inside you, – he whimpered and, letting go of his cock, let him enter the end on his own, putting his hand on your waist.

In those brief seconds, you felt as if the whole world had disappeared, leaving the two of you alone. Nothing but him inside you. When his head touched your cervix, you finally let out a moan of pleasure. At first, you were uncomfortable with his size, and knowing that, Xavier made a frantic effort not to thrust into you immediately. Even with a blinding desire for you, he still cares about your comfort.

— How do you feel? – he rasped, raising his head and looking into your eyes.

You took a short breath, nodding your head. Moving your arms around his neck, you pulled Xavier closer to you, wrapping your legs around his waist. His nose nuzzled into the crook of her neck and his hips began to move slowly. Your soft moans blended together as Xavier pressed his body against you, bumping into your cervix.

Scratching his neck with your nails, you enjoyed every second of him being inside you. Your bodies were tightly connected inside. Your walls wrapped around his throbbing cock, making you hear his heavy breathing against your neck mixed with whimpers.

— It's so tight, – Xavier whispered, wrapping his arm around your waist. – I can't... think...

Your hips moved to meet his, urging him to speed up.

— Xav... faster... – closing your eyes, you restrained your moans to say these words and soon, you felt the friction become more intense.

— I won't stop, – he said, obediently complying with your request.

Your body arched beneath him every time his full cock disappeared into your womb. The sounds of bodies slapping against each other, the creaking of the table and your babble were music to your ears.

With each thrust, heat engulfed your body. It was becoming difficult to breathe, the head was spinning more and more, and the skin was slowly covered with a thin layer of sweat. Suddenly, Xavier was out of your arms and towering over you, he threw your legs over his shoulders, keeping your hips in the air.

You moaned loudly. when the cock was thrusting into you from a new angle. Grabbing the edge of the table with your hands, you looked into Xavier's eyes. In them you saw his darkest desires, his need for you. Each of his thrusts was accompanied by the creaking of the table. His gaze wandered lustily over your body, lingering on your bouncy breasts, which teased him with their appetizingness, decorated with crimson marks, went down to your waist, which also showed bruises from his hands, and finally, his gaze caught the small bulge at the bottom of your stomach , which appeared every time he penetrated you to the end.

— My princess, – he moaned, looking into your eyes again and squeezing your hips tighter. – I love you, I love you, I love you unconditionally.

Barely understanding what he was saying, you looked at him with a clouded look of pleasure, wanting to press into him again. Sobbing in pleasure, you reached out one of your hands to him, choking on scarlet moans.

— Please... I want... – whining, you once again pushed him on this table. – I need...

Releasing your hips without slowing his pace, he leaned into you, letting your hands grip his neck. Your lips met in a kiss again, exchanging saliva.

Your bodies were sticky with sweat, but that didn't stop Xavier from pounding into you faster and faster. You weren't worried about whether or not you'd be able to walk tomorrow, just like Xavier didn't doubt that he'd be carrying you in his arms all day. A wild desire took hold of your minds, causing your bodies to move in a frenzied rhythm of love.

Xavier drove his cock into you, wet with your juices, slapping his balls against your ass, met the obstacle in the form of the cervix and returned with a low growl to repeat the same actions. Slipping his hand between your heated bodies, he touched your clit. Almost crying with pleasure, you scratched his neck, shoulders and back, not knowing where to go. The air in your lungs was running out as fast as he was fucking your cunt. Your vision became blurry, everything was spinning and the only thing you felt was the near end.

Xavier's voice was whispering something in your ear, but it was hard to make out. Grabbing air with your mouth, you felt as if a little more, a few more thrusts and your body would collapse under his onslaught.

— Xavier, – you whined hoarsely under him, feeling extremely dizzy. – Nghh...

Your brain short-circuited and your body was covered by an explosion. Arching in the back, you squeezed your whole body. Clinging to Xavier with your limbs, you didn't give him a chance. Cursing in your ear, he tried to hold on, but your walls squeezed him too hard. He crashed into your thighs, plunging deep into you and finished with a loud moan, flooding you with hot cum. His hips gave a few thrusts as if he was trying to push as much of his family into you as possible.

Your body was shaking with orgasm, but your grip on Xavier slowly loosened. Soon, as your consciousness returned to reality, hot streams of tears flowed from your eyes.

Hearing your soft sobs, Xavier jerked up, still buried deep inside you. Confusion and excitement were reflected on his sweat-dampened face.

— Princess, – he asked in a husky voice and, clearing his throat, took your face in his hands. – Why are you crying? Are you hurt? What happened?

You looked up at him with a smile, feeling his fingers wipe the tears from your red cheeks. You couldn't answer now. Shaking your head negatively, you looked into his eyes. Panic and incomprehension grew in his gaze, which almost made you cry even harder.

Clenching his teeth, he pressed himself against your body, touching his lips to your shoulder.

— I'm here, – he whispered, feeling how you occasionally squeezed him in you. – I’ll always be with you.

— Xav...

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your feelings, and wrapped your weakened arms around his neck.

— Yes, princess? – he answered, pressing closer.

— So you weren't a virgin? – you whispered hoarsely, gently stroking his back.

He noticeably raised his head and looked into your eyes.

You thought I was... - his eyebrows went up in surprise. - Why?

— We just had sex for the first time... in our relationship.

— I've been saving this moment for a better time, because you deserve the best first time, – his voice was muffled and his breath burned your neck. – But you decided to rush this moment.

He laughed and poked himself in your neck again.

— Okay, but, – you stopped stroking him after a moment. – If you're not a virgin, and you said you had no one before me, then…

You felt Xavier relax against you. The table cracked under your weight and you groaned in indignation, but you couldn't stay angry with him for long.

— Did you fall asleep? – you shook your head and hugged him tighter, deciding that five minutes wasn't that long.

When he wakes up, he will take you to bed and clean up the mess he had made. Just 5 minutes.

— I'll never let you go, – Xavier said in a sleepy voice. – It doesn't matter where you go, how far you will be, I will always find you.

— Pretender…

— No way…

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #xavier #love and deepcpace x listener #loveanddeepspace #xavier x reader #xavier smut

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bradshawsbitch · 7 months

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‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↠ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 - ⅸ ↞

⁘ bradley bradshaw, the notoriously ill mannered head chef at the small franchise pub down the street, is quite content with his fast paced job. no commitments or obligations outside of his kingdom of sharp knives, pots, pans, prep work and a shot of jäger after a double. that is until a new waitress is hired, and suddenly his strict and rigid rules of no obligations or commitments starts to waver. . .

› pairing; bradley bradshaw x f!reader

word count; ~ 3.2K

× chapter warnings; swearing, see general story warnings, mature content, mentions of food

disclaimer; first of all, thank you!! for being so understanding and amazing about this story. i am so overwhelmed with love for all of you who keep being excited about my surly chef, even after all this time. second of all, i am sorry for it having been an 'all this time' - your support means everything to me. thank you again ❤

this chapter was super hard for me to write, which is why it's a little shorter, and perhaps more of a filler and a thank you to my readers. please be aware that the prose may be a little rusty as i am slowly getting back into writing again ❤

tagging some people who i know have waited; @roosterforme @hangmanssunnies @mak-32 @laracrofted @pisupsala @cherrycola27 @gretagerwigsmuse @seresinsweetie @ryebecca @lewmagoo

otherwise you can follow @bradshawsbitch-library and turn on notifications ❤

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Soft little sighs, muffled by muted green sheets fill the room as rays of the morning sun turns harsher the higher it rises in the sky. Noon is approaching, unbeknownst to the two laying still in bed. A Monday, which for many means the start of a new week, gone is the restful weekend and labor is nigh. For the two forms in bed though, the pace of mere mortals were not applicable. A waitress and a chef could sleep in, for their holy day was indeed Monday. Most restaurants were closed, or very slow come Monday - which gave those weary souls a day to rest.

Turning slowly, the woman burrow deeper into the sheets, a small smile tugging on the corners of her lips as she heard Bradley’s soft, sleepy grunt as his arms tightened around her naked midsection. He hasn’t awoken yet, and neither had you, not fully at least. Sleepy eyes were slow to open, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light that surrounds the two of you.

Waking up next to Rooster’s warm form sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. Seeing the way his eyelashes flutter, the way his lips are ever so slightly parted - his cupid’s bow defined so prettily beneath that lovely facial hair of his… the way freckles dot along the bridge of his nose… tan skin so beautiful, ridges, freckles and spots that adorn his skin. Sleepily, you let your finger trace over those shapely shoulders, where, much like the stars the freckles dot all the more frequently.

“Bambi…” Rooster grunts, voice raspy and breathless - the mere mention of your nickname makes those fluttery wings of butterflies flap helplessly within your chest. His hold on you tightens again, drawing you in towards his chest. One arm embraces your form soothingly, as the other gently tucks your head into his chest, a large thigh suddenly nudging its way in between yours to rest. This position he also adjusts, letting the hand that had rested in its embrace slide slowly down past your bottom, ghosting over your thigh before gripping just above your knee - drawing it up high on his thigh.

A content sigh leaves his lips as his thumb draws soothing circles on the bare skin that’s still in his firm hold, pleased with how he’s molded you into his form. You fit quite nicely here, he reflects as you start to place small kisses against Bradley’s sternum - he’s warm from sleep, radiating calm and safety as he holds you near.

“Getting enough air in there, sweets?” he rumbles after a few moments of your face buried in the dip between his pecs, lips ghosting over his sternum every now and then. Nodding, you let out a soft ‘mhm’ in reply as you trace your hands over the ridges of his hips and waist, gently letting yourself explore his adonis belt and lower abdomen.

Bradley lets out the softest of noises, a choked moan that seems to catch in the back of his throat as his pubic hair tickles the back of your hand as you leave feather light touches closer and closer to where he needs you. His grip on you has tightened, and his nose and lips are pressed tight against your hair where he inhales deeply. His palm is flexing, tensing and kneading where his palm is spread on your thigh - he hesitates for only a short moment before he uses his strength to pull your leg further over his hip.

A small gasp and a pathetic whine slips past your lips as your lower body joins where your hand had been exploring just seconds ago. Drawing your hand back, you feverishly grasp at Bradley’s neck, shuffling to tilt your head back up to catch his lips with yours, your body fluid and ever moving against his large form. Pressing, pushing, pulling– the leg Rooster had pulled closer now draws him in to you, the whole length of your naked body pressed against his sturdy one.

“Fuck, Bambi…” he groans as you grip the short hair at the nape of his neck before your lips chase his, you whine again as Rooster’s palm slides up to grip the flesh of your ass, kneading and grinding you against his hardening cock.

“Bradley!” you gasp as you feel his warm, soft skin run along your sensitive clit. Another whimper leaves you, clinging on to his shoulders, drawing him in with all the strength your sore muscles can muster. You need to be closer, need to have him surrounding you in every sense. Bradley hums deep in his chest as his lips stray from yours to leave chaste kisses along your neck, his hot tongue laving over points he discovered you were responsive to yesterday.

Bradley’s hand drifts from your waist, up to tease at your nipple, pinching, pulling gently before letting his palm envelop your flesh, kneading and drawing out soft little moans from you before he traces his fingers down your stomach, down to where you’re rutting against his upper thigh.

“What’s my needy little baby want, hm?” his raspy morning voice reverberates in your ears, and as he speaks he lets the rough pad of his index finger press against your clit, slowly drawing languid circles in time with your desperate movements.

“Need you…” you whine, frustrated that he thought now was a good time to tease you. His soft chuckle in response draws the least intimidating little growl out of you, and Bradley can only smile as he places a soft kiss to your lips

“Relax,” he whispers “we’ve got all the time in the world, sweetheart,” as he says this, a single thick finger gently eases back and forth over your slick folds before pushing inside. Bradley slowly moves in and out of you, lips attached to the junction of your neck and shoulder, drawing small moans out of you as he works you open for him.

If yesterday had been frantic and explosive, today Bradley was savoring you. He wanted to memorize every sound you made, every move of your body as it reacted to his touch, every mewl of his name falling from parted lips. As he worked three fingers into you, he could hear your breathing pick up slightly, your grip on his bicep tightening and loosening rapidly, and he couldn’t help the smirk that grew against your salty skin.

“You gon’ cum for me, sweet little Bambs?” he muttered, and you could only nod as your moans turned high pitched, Rooster never slowing or altering his movements as your body shook against his own as you tipped over the edge on his fingers. Bradley moaned low at the sight of you.

“Look like a fuckin’ angel cumming on my fingers…” he murmured “Fuck, darling, you make me so fuckin’ hard.”

Pulling his fingers out of you, he used your slick to coat his cock, languidly stroking himself as you came down from your first high. Panting, you nudged your nose against his, lips connecting in a fleeting kiss before you felt the nudge of his swollen tip against your puffy entrance. “Please,” you whispered softly against his lips, fleetingly catching a glimpse of those amber eyes. They were so intense, but you couldn’t look away if your life depended on it.

At that first gentle push, your breath stuttered against Bradley’s parted lips. His cock was slowly inching into you, and even if he’d made a point to carefully prepare you for him, that initial stretch felt otherworldly - had he been this big yesterday too?

Grunting, Bradley’s eyes fluttered shut. Gripping his bicep, you inhaled sharply, pressing your forehead against his as he stilled. “You alright, baby?” he murmured, his hand moving to soothe up and down your back, making your chest flutter with emotion.

“Yeah- just… were you this big last night?” you moaned, and Rooster couldn’t help the small laugh that left him, before he reached up to cup your cheek. Moving away a little, he let his adoring gaze roam over your face. The cute scrunch of your nose, the thin sheen of sweat making you glow, eyes alight with lust and… Bradley blinked, taking in the way your chest heaved, the way his body was molded against yours, your warmth and your trust - it made him dizzy.

“More… please, Bradley,” your voice was soft, and you slowly moved closer to his chest, nuzzling your face into his neck where your lips flitted over the skin of his throat, along the long line that went across it, up to his jaw and back down to gently suckle at the skin near his collarbones.

Letting his strong arms wrap around you, Bradley moved against you, one hand slowly ghosting over your skin to grip your thigh as his cock slid deeper and deeper into your core, finally bottoming out as he gently pushed at the small of your back to tilt your hips just right. Small little noises reverberated against his warm skin, and he felt your lips leave wet traces as you occupied your mouth with his neck and shoulders.

“You okay, Cookie?” he murmurs against your ear as he rocks his hips slightly against you. The soft mewl you let out fills his chest with pride, and something like a fierce need to protect you, to make sure you’re taken care of.

“So good, Roos’” the words were slightly slurred against the naked skin of his shoulder, and he grunted softly as he yet again used his strength to form your body against his. His large palm resumed their hold right above your knee, drawing it upwards as he pressed your bottom down against himself. Almost as if he was rocking your body against his instead of the other way around.

“Sound so pretty for me, darlin’” Bradley murmured, gently nudging your chin with his nose, lips hovering over your skin - he needed you to look at him. Needed to see the way those sweet eyes betrayed adoration, betrayed lust and need and want and… trust. He needed to see how much you depended upon him - how you’d given yourself to him to cherish.

As with every other thing, you were so responsive to him. To his voice, touch - it was dizzying, truly. Your glittering eyes held his, and he moaned low in his throat as he felt the way you squeezed him as you caught sight of his face. He could feel his heartrate picking up, could feel the way his breath were coming in shorter bursts, and it fucking turned him on to no end that that drew the softest of little mewls from you - made your brows pinch in that cute little needy fashion he’d noticed only once yesterday.

“You okay, my little Bambs?” he murmured softly, letting his lips brush against yours lovingly “I’m so okay,” you whispered against him, your hands slowly running across his muscled chest, nails leaving soft little tendrils of pleasure as they went.

“You’re so beautiful,” Rooster confessed breathlessly, grunting softly at the end as his cock slid, if possible, even deeper into your heat - as your hips started rutting against his movements. The soft moan of his name made him groan, fucking into you more languidly - slow, steady and deep. The hand that wasn’t gripping your thigh, keeping it hitched high over his hip, returned to squeeze and knead at the flesh of your breast. Fuck, he loved your tits. Loved your body, loved– his breath hitched in his throat, heart almost doing fucking double time…

Blinking, he let out a shuddering breath before letting his mouth leave a wet trail down your throat, before his lips enclosed on your nipple, his tongue teasing and flicking against the nub. At the sensation of Bradley’s hot tongue on your sensitive breasts, you let out a high pitched moan, pushing your chest against Bradley’s face as your hands flew to his curls, gripping tight as you panted wildly. You were so sensitive, and Bradley’s cock was stretching you, pulling and pushing so so slow - and yet he made it feel so fucking good. You could almost feel every ridge and vein as the drag of his cock made wetness drip from your core, down his length, making a mess of his pubic hair… He was fucking you so incredibly, right there in his bed, that you’d both shared that night.

You cried out his name again, ending almost on a sob as he pushed his cock deep inside just as he let his lips latch on to your flesh, giving it a heady suckle - his facial hair scratching just hard enough to bring tears to your eyes from the pleasurable sensation. That pressure was building again, deep in your core, building and getting more and more tense. He was everywhere, just like you’d wanted. Filling you, tasting you, gripping you… his smell was surrounding you, the feel of his hair, the warmth of his body, his sweat glowing like a halo around his body in the morning sun as the muscles in his back rippled and moved.

“Bradley!” you sobbed pathetically, clawing and clinging to him, he must have felt how close you were. Your pussy was pulsing around his thick dick, your arousal dripping down his balls at this point. He was grunting and moaning against your flesh, and you desperately tried to rut your hips, needing more, more more– but he kept his slow, deep pace. His cock barely left your cunt before he pushed deep, each stroke of his cock hitting that spot that you hadn’t been sure if it existed or not.

“That’s it, baby,” Bradley’s voice sounded wrecked and broken as he released your now glistening nipple. “Can feel you squeezing my dick,” he sounded almost smug - you hated that it almost turned you on. His large hand was still palming at your tit as he nipped and kissed gently at your jaw, your hands still tugging desperately on his hair.

“N-need more,” you gasped, pleading with him as you looked down on him. Those amber eyes of his were shadowed by heady lust, and he just smirked softly before shaking his head ever so slightly “No,” he muttered, kissing your chin as you cried out, the tears that had burned behind your lids slowly running down your cheeks.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his cock twitching deep within your pussy “so pretty, darling, crying for more of my cock,” he whispered, you couldn’t do more than nod and keen, letting out small cries and whimpers as you felt your core clench around him harder, chasing that high so desperately.

“You’ll cum from this, baby.” he rasped “You don’t need more.” he decided- It felt like he was cradling your body in his hands, molding and shaping, pushing, pulling, playing with you as if you were only made for him. And he was right. As he spoke those words, a shocked gasp tore through your throat as you cried and sobbed, white hot pleasure rolling through your body in waves as you shook and shook, convulsing slightly with every thrust that Bradley’s swollen tip hit that sensitive spot deep within your core.

“Fuck–” Bradley moaned loudly, “atta girl,” he praised, voice breaking slightly as your hips rolled and shook in his hold “Fuck, Bambi- I’m gon’...” his chest rose and fell rapidly, his shoulders and back muscles rippling as he fought to hang on to see you through your high, not sure if he could–

“Cum in me,” you whined softly, needing him. Needing him everywhere. At those words, Bradley shattered. He couldn’t hold on if his life depended upon it. With a long, low moan of your name, his hips stuttered, once twice, stilling deep within you as he gasped and his warm release filled you, over and over as his cock pulsated through his high.

“Jesus, darling…” Bradley gasped and moaned low as your cunt throbbed around his still hard dick, milking him of the last of his orgasm. “So good… so fuckin’ beautiful… soft ‘n pretty,” he was murmuring now, kissing his pretty words into the skin of your chest. He finally released his grip on your thigh, palms gently smoothing over the area, ghosting over your skin as his strong arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him as you both caught your breaths.

“Bradley,” you murmured lovingly, nuzzling into his warmth, it was hard to describe how you were feeling - but it felt weird. Good, but a little jarring. You’d never experienced sex in this fashion before - not entirely sure you’d even experienced any other partner giving you two orgasms, let alone while they were actually inside of you. Your heart was fluttering fast and hard, and the tears that had run down your cheeks had all but dried, but it felt as if the high was lingering - clouding your mind and making you feel so utterly vulnerable.

Perhaps he could sense it, perhaps he could hear it in the smallness of your voice, but slowly he’d ushered you to rest against the broad expanse of his chest as he softly shushed and murmured against your skin. “You’re alright, darlin’ - did so good.” in the fluffy state your mind was in, you hadn’t really gathered that you were whimpering and making noises as Bradley held you.

“There you are, baby… you’re alright, you’re safe - I’ve got you honey… fuck - that was incredible… you’re incredible,” he let out a small laugh as his strong hands moved up and down your spine, the other gently stroking over your hair as he murmured praise and soft words of encouragement in your ear. Tilting your head back, you took in the tenderness of his brown eyes, and you smiled softly up at him.

“That’s it, there’s my beautiful Bambi,” Rooster murmured before placing a small kiss on your nose. “Gave unsteady legs a new meanin’ huh?” he rasped, grinning as you swatted at his chest, although you couldn’t help the amused smile that stretched on your lips.

“Do we have to get up?” you murmured, pouting softly at the thought of leaving this heavenly moment. You didn’t want to walk out into the harshness, the cold, the bitter. You wanted to stay here, in Bradley’s arms where everything was okay, everything was safe and covered in a thick layer of fluffy soft clouds.

“Not right now,” Bradley murmured against the top of your head “I have to get up to cook you something of substance to eat in a while, but you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about that just yet,” he smiled, placing a reassuring kiss against your hair. You smiled softly at the thought, a content sigh making your form rise and fall gently in his hold.

“You never stop working, do you?” you teased.

“Well, hate to break it to ya, Bambs - but people will unfortunately always need to eat,” rolling your eyes, you felt the head chef had earned another light slap against his chest - the only answer was a rumbling sort of laughter that made his chest vibrate slightly against your touch.

“And cooking for you isn’t a job,” he said casually “it’s something I love doing.”

For some reason, those small words sent a strong wave of emotion through your body, awakening the flutters of butterfly wings again. This time they were not only contained to your stomach, but seemed to flutter and spread warmth and overwhelming, nearly suffocating emotions all through your body. Choked up, you merely squeezed Bradley as tight as your muscles would allow it before offering him the most sincere

“Thank you.”

#mise en place series #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fics #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster imagine

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bby-blu-swirll · 7 months

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sit on my lap while you do my eyeliner - bakugo x reader

i can't find it now, (i will tho if it kills me) but this is inspired by this tumblr post i saw on my pinterest that was like " 'let me do your eyeliner' gf and 'okay sit on my lap while you do it' bf" lol

pls enjoy xx

bakugo loves your makeup. (he loves your natural face just as much, but he also thinks you look drop dead gorgeous no matter what.)

his favorite days are when you pull out the eyeliner pen. when you look at him and your eyes are rimmed with black, bringing out the hue of your irises, he just folds honestly. subtly, because his pride is too strong to let anybody see him so weak for you, but you've definitely picked up on it.

he loves anything you do with it. a wing, big or small, a messy grungey outline, drawing hearts or stars, anything. he loves watching you do it with such attention to detail and even more loves seeing the finished product and how it might have changed the shape of your eyes. whether it's soft and cute and gives you little doe eyes, or sharp and cutting like a knife, pulling your eyes into dangerous (& admittedly sexy) slits, he adores it.

he doesn't show it much, though. he's not as bad as compliments as you thought he'd be, really, but this is just a bit different.

he can call you pretty, gorgeous, hot, whatever- all he wants. there was no problem there. especially, in front of other people. it was almost like bragging to him.

like once, in the middle of a conversation with the bakusquad, he caught your arm as you were walking by just to press a kiss to your cheek and tell you that you looked beautiful. of course he meant every word of it, but there was a silent emphasis on the fact that he was the one you got to tell you that, and that it was very true. it was like his way of being able to say, "suck it, extras, that beauty is my girlfriend," without sounding like the cocky douchebag he usually did. (bc he knows you don't like it when he's such a cocky douchebag <3)

but complimenting such a specific part of you was a bit more difficult, and he wasn't quite sure how to articulate it. he knew he liked it, but he wasn't sure why. he just thought you looked sexy and sweet like that.

like you did today.

it was one of those lazy saturdays for the both of you, where you slept in a little and kind of just floated through the day, maybe go out maybe not, maybe make out on your bed, who knows.

it was close to half past ten when you were finally up and at your vanity, doing your makeup for the day. your boyfriend was spread out and taking up most of your bed while he studied for the test you had on monday. you thought he was a bit of a nerd for spending one of his only mornings off on school, but you admired his dedication.

neither of you liked silence much, so soft music filled the quiet in your dorm, along with the occasional page turn from bakugo, usually followed by a sigh.

you capped your eyeliner pen with a huff. you had been looking at your face so long, it was hard to tell if it was even. "hey babe?" you turned your swivel chair to face him.

"yeah?" he didn't bother looking up from his book.

you pressed the closed pen to your cheek and blinked a few times. "does this look okay?"

he glanced up for a moment, doing a double take when he saw you. there was no concealer on your dark circles and your eyeliner was smudged underneath your eyes and your lips looked a bit cracked, and he could feel his stomach swell with butterflies the second he looked at you.

"yeah, its.. its perfect." he looked away and cleared his throat, hearing you chuckle slightly.

once you turned around in your chair, his eyes were glued to you. just watching you sort through your makeup tray, trying to find something. the way you knit your brows together, your bottom lip stuck out- his quickly averted his gaze back to his book when you turned to him. he could feel your eyes trained on him as he thumbed the corner the pages.

"hey katsuki?"

he hummed in response, still not looking at you.

you stood up and slowly sauntered towards him, smirking when his eyes flicked up to you every few seconds. you took his book and set it aside.

"the hell are you-" he clenched his jaw when you leaned close to him, still standing. he dropped his voice to a soft tone, just shy of a whisper. "what're you doing, huh?"

"can i do your eyeliner?"

he chuckled and smirked. "'course.."

you grinned and took a seat next to him, your face heating up as his hands found your waist. he lifted you up and set you on his lap, wrapping his arms around your torso and holding you close. his smirk grew as a blush crept up your cheeks.

"just as long as you sit... here." he pecked your lips, mindlessly stroking his thumb across the skin just above the waistband of your pants. "you can start whenever, babe, i'm not stopping you..."

you huffed and bit the inside of your cheek, internally rolling your eyes. his cocky smirk softened a little when your fingers delicately cradled his jaw, turning his head slightly.

"close your eyes..." you kept your voice low, watching his eyes flutter shut.

his skipped a beat when he felt your breath on his lips. he took deep breaths, just inhaling whatever lotion or perfume had you smelling so good.

you bit your lip and did your best to keep your hand steady. it was hard to keep the lines straight when he would squeeze your hips occasionally. but you prevailed nonetheless, keeping the ink close to the rim of his eyes. you were going for a sort of rodrick look.

"okay.." you clicked your tongue and capped your pen, setting it to the side. "you're done~"

he opened his eyes slowly, a playful look dancing across his features. "well? how do i look?"

your breath caught in your throat. his red eyes glowed, half lidded and staring right into you.

"hmmm..." you brought a hand to his chest, the other messing with the hair at the base of his neck. you traced small circles across his skin. "handsome."

"yeah?" he took your cheek in his hand, pulling you closer to him. "that all?"

you shrugged and chuckled a bit, watching his cocky grin return.

"hm, you think i'm hot. coulda just said so..." he pressed his lips against yours softly, which quickly changed to a rough, demanding kiss.

looks like you did end up making out on your bed,,

totally meant to upload this over a week ago,,, my bad lol i've been very busy, sorry this is so crap lol i'll probably rewrite it in the future <33

love you sm !! stay safe & sleep well 💗💗

#bnha x reader #bnha #my hero fanfic #bnha fic #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki #bakugo x y/n #katsuki x reader #love you all <3

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badchoicesworld · 8 months

Note

hello hello hi ! i hope you're doing well ! may i request a miles!42 and hobie with like a butterfly mutated reader (masc) ? ironically he's more bug than beauty and has alot of features that he tries to hide (antennae, long ears and :3 mouth that opens up to a long tongue to suck up food ? he has teeth too but theyre sharp with fangs in the splatoon inkling way. skin is like a bug's sort of hard and exoskeletonly and bro is just really fluffy. like his wrists and neck have fluff)

reader is a result of like a weird science experiment gone wrong so he sort of feels like an alien trying to fit in whenever his features pop out. he just wants to live an ordinary life but somehow keeps on gettinh pulled in the middle of every superhero fight there is :'). also ! ARTKIDDD

im sorry if the req got really specific to work w aha :') hope you have a good one !

hobie brown and miles42 with butterfly mutated boyfriends !

huge fan of these mutated readers, i am however a tmnt man so (i fuckin see you btw, my most active friend and that tmnt blog)

separate, established relationships

warnings: nah

pairing: hobie brown x masc!reader, miles morales!42 x masc!reader

requests: check out my guide/masterlist

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

we all know hobie’s a massive fan of making a statement, so he thinks that you look absolutely incredible with your mutation

will likely go through a phase of insisting you should embrace it and flaunt it, he’s gotta be told a few times that you just wanna live an ordinary life

sounds a little boring to him, but whatever suits you, y’know?

he’s not the guy to go to however for tips on how to blend in, do not ask

you’ve got a butterfly mutation, he’s got a spider mutation- he calls you the bug boys sometimes when he’s feeling hyped up and you can feel how you wanna feel about that

if you ever tell him about your mutation, about the experiments and such, it just fuels hobie’s habit of antagonising authority n all that

you’re like walking proof of the government taking advantage of the people through the systems they put in place to protect them but in reality are just some form of propaganda to give the public false hope and sense of security

yeah, hobie wasn’t surprised when you told him

not too pressed over it either since it’s been and done, no point in getting worked up over something thats irreversible and apart of you now

feels disrespectful to even feel bad to a degree

of course he feels bad that you were experimented on, but he’s not gonna say anything about your actual mutation

does however have something inappropriate to say about ur tongue im sorry

yknow what hard skins good for ? drawing on, let him please

yknow what fluff around you ur neck and wrists is great for ? hobie and his desperation for contact, ur mad comfy dawg

he likes to wear his studded collars and wrist bands in the same places as your fur sometimes, matching innit

hobie absolutely recognised how badly you want to have an ordinary life, so can honestly empathise and sympathise when you somehow manage to find yourself sucked into every super scrap in the city

he can try diverge the fights, but can’t promise a thing since they tend to be unpredictable

hobie’s plenty happy to diverge from large crowds with you if it helps you stick out less, he’ll navigate for the two of you and somehow come up with insane routes to get to where you need to be

will diy you clothes tailored to your mutation, shirts with holes in the back for your wings just so they don’t have to be uncomfortably folded under clothes n stuff

miles42

i feel like with society going up in flames, standing out is something you generally wanna avoid in earth42, just doesn’t seem so safe

so miles definitely goes the extra mile (ha) to make sure you’re not gonna stick out too much

if you’re smaller than him he’ll for sure lend you certain things to wear if they cover you up well enough, he knows just about every nook and cranny in the city to hide in whenever your features decide to make a guest appearance

like if you’re ever just walking down a street then your antenna poke out, he’s very fast to act and doesn’t make a big deal out of it

now you either just chill in an alley together or start making your way home through the intricate backstreets miles can effortlessly navigate

he appreciates your mutation though, it’s one of them things that he can silently admire and daydream about instead of worrying about the future

realistically ? you could be a result of a really shitty human experiment gone wrong at oscorp, god knows they can take advantage of the people without a spider-man to protect them

if you ever reveal this to miles, he’s obviously upset, but it’s probably predicted at this point

i imagine in his universe that they’re a force to be reckoned with

asks his mum to make things for you sometimes, to help you feel better about your appearance and to help hide certain features that you wanna

can completely understand your desire to want an ordinary life, he does too

he’ll help you achieve it, it’s one of his dreams and he can only hope to share it

your mutation takes time to get used to but it gets to the point where miles simply won’t bat an eye at your mutation, he treats you like any other person in the world except he loves you- wants so badly for you to feel normal if that’s what you want

in the least condescending way he will insist from time to time for you to stay home, just for your own safety if he starts to notice a particular rise in stats

he completely understands your desire to just blend in, but it’s not worth it if you’re genuinely at risk

he gets into the habit of doodling butterfly features on scraps of paper, on the back of his hand during classes- you’re on his mind a lot

says that he’s indifferent towards ur fluff but then he’ll fix it up for you after putting a shirt on and it’s a lil outta sorts

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

sorry this is kinda brief and not great, i’ve been out of it for the longest time but i’m tryna provide 💪💪

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howyouloveyourdragon · 1 year

Note

threesome with margaery and robb please please i BEG

Taking Charge

pairing: margaery tyrell x reader x robb stark alternate universe: Margaery allies with Stark instead of Lannister, Robb survives (no necrophilia here thank you babes) pronouns: she/her anatomy: afab warnings: power dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, brief discussion of trauma (the red wedding) kinks & positions: threesome, dom/sub dynamics, brat taming, light bdsm, being gagged, oral (reader receiving), riding, masturbation, face riding, orgasm denial, fingering dividers by: saradika wordcount: 3,388

A/N: only the best for you ma'am, you told me i could go feral and i always deliver >:) i really hope you enjoy this bby! ♡ also margaery lowkey acts as a medieval marriage counsellor but we'll touch on that later ☠️

Margaery Tyrell is beautiful. You know it. Your husband knows it and the gaggle of raucous men know it as she flits her eyes over Robb. Her lips move but you are too entranced to doubt her words. You hear Robb gulp beside you and your own breath hitches as her shoulders roll back, a lithe hand exposes her neck by sweeping her hair behind her. She smirks as she curtsies--slow and deep. "Thank you, your grace for understanding my position." "Of course." Robb's voice utters but you can hear a familiar gruffness. He glances at two of his men as he gestures for two of them to lead her to a spare tent. You let a gentle hand rest on his forearm. "You need not," You tell the men, ignoring when your husband snaps his sights back to you. You smile pleasingly at Margaery. "We will find somewhere together, it has been a long time since I entertained guests." She returns your grin with the hint of surprise in her crystal eyes. The flicker across your form and her parted lips close. "Perhaps I should be entertaining you, my Queen." You feel as Robb tenses and squeeze gently. You merely hum to Margaery and begin to glide toward her but your husband snatches your arm quickly and tugs you back. His eyes stare deeply into yours as he guides a hand to cup your face, an intensity as he draws closer--prolonging each movement. He connects your lips effortlessly and drinks in the gentle gasp when his tongue treads along the seam of them. Your eyes flutter like the flap of a butterfly's wings until they shut closed. His fingers twist the hair at the back of your head and tugs just enough to let him drink in your soft whine. You don't have the chance to see as Robb's sights turn hard and warning as they lock with Margaery's. Her smirk only deepens.

Eventually you gather the inner strength to pull away with a wet smack and stumble back. As your eyelids slip open his darkening stare greets you, a quick tilt of his head permitting you to step away. His gaze stays locked on you as you leave, linking your arm with the new woman's. "He is rather protective of you." She notes as you walk throughout the camp. You hum in agreement and nod softly. "There was an incident a number of moons ago where he was supposed to marry one of the Frey daughters, we supplemented another man in his place but..." You pause, discomfort crossing your skin like a spider's thick web. Margaerys collects your free hand in the bed of her own hand and squeezes gently. It gives you the courage to continue. "The matter was not resolved. There was bloodshed and we lost a babe but we escaped and so..." Margaery steps in front of you, now holding both your hands. Your breath stutters but still you paint a sad smile across your lips. "I understand." She assures with a gentle smile. She wishes to reassure you. Two of her fingers rise to lift your chin to encourage you looking up into her eyes. "I would feel the same if I had a petal such as yourself. I would take my vows of protection over you just as carefully. And I would take those vows." Her voice purrs like a kitten curled in your lap, like it is a soft tail wrapping itself around your forearm instead of her hand.

The days pass with your forms close at every turn and under your husband’s watchful eye. Your nightly activities increase, a deeper need clawing up Robb’s chest. Tonight, you writhe in the sheets with Robb's pants fanning over your neck as his fingers bury deep within your core. He moans at the wet stickiness, letting it drip down his hand. You feel it growing–the wave about to crash–swirling deeper and deeper. It’s like a whirlpool that you are begging to let swallow you down. You want it, you need it and then–Then Robb retracts stops. “Say it,” His unusually gruff voice murmurs in your ear, ignoring your flailing legs. You try to grind back and forth but his spare hand pushes your hips down in warning. He leans up to your ear. “Say it.” He demands once more, rougher. “I love you.” You concede easily, gentle whimpers pouring out. His fingers roll fluidly again and the waves return. “Again.” “I love you.” The water spins you, an overwhelming heat distorts your sight. “Again.” “I love you.” And finally he lets the dam break inside you. Your heat gushes over his hand. His mouth drops down onto yours with a resounding kiss. His lips move sloppily but demandingly. He grumbles as he turns to lay his back on the bed and sling and arm around your own. “So good for me.” He rumbles. “My best girl, hm?” You mumble in approval while he moves to kiss your cheek before standing. Your whines return as he begins to leave you, presumably to visit the tent of your living quarters. Not for the first time you are grateful your husband is given special privileges but detest the sight of his back. He chuckles low. “A moment, my love.” He leaves, presumably to find a cloth and water. Your slick glistens down your rear.

Minutes pass, possibly twenty, possibly thirty but either way you are unsatisfied with your missing husband. You rise on shaky legs, bare all except a silk robe. Your feet lead you to the connecting tent, surprised at the closed sheets of it. Your breath hitches as you step toward the dark tent, your fingers about to part the sheets but two familiar voices interrupt the movement. “I heard you of course…” A Tyrell voice tuts and your eyes go wide. Surely she does not mean… “Denying your wife? I thought Starks were honourable.” A deep blush treads up your face with the wisps of wind. You shiver as the cold air creeps through your dress, hardening the pebbles beneath. You peek through the curtain and instantly clasp a hand over your mouth at the sight of your husband stiffened, the woman opposite trailing her fingers up his tunic. He snatches her wrist quickly and squeezes it harshly. You can hear her breath hitch. “What are you doing, Lady Tyrell?” Robb snarls to which she merely chuckles. She steps onto her tiptoes and leans into his ear. “I am going to teach you how to please your wife, how to please your Queen, how to…worship her.” She purrs the words like a playful kitten. His grip loosens enough for the highborn lady to grow bold and raise her other hand to his shoulder. He is silent as his eyes track her palm. It is almost soothing, the circles she rubs against the loose fabric. The wolf King clears his throat before he speaks. “How?” You would pity his vulnerable tone if it didn’t charge the throb of your pearl, if the pebbles of your breasts were not growing more sensitive with every word that flowed through your ears.

You almost gasp when you see her unravel two snakes of rope from beneath her skirt, letting it feed through her fingers as she pushes Robb down into a wooden chair though you are both aware it could not truly hold him unless he demanded his own body to still. Her hands glide down his arms, thick with muscle, her nails play with the top threads of his linen undershirt. The rose unlaces the ties of his shirt slowly, torturing. Your eyes hook their gaze to her fingers, mouth going dry at their graceful movements. She is a lot more experienced than she let on but it does not upset you...in fact it rather does the opposite, your pearl beginning to throb again. He watches her, eyes tracking her every motion. “Well first you are going to have to calm yourself. I would hate for her to join us too early, before we even have you prepared for her. You cannot see her face but you can imagine her serene smile. Her hands glide across his chest and push him down into a waiting chair. The bridge of rope between her hands follows down to slither between his legs. He grunts at the contact, his member still heavy from the activities before. He bites his lip. Margaery chuckles as she sinks to her knees and begins to bind his forearm to the wooden chair. “Do not worry, my King, we will fix that in a moment.” Your eyes widen and drink in the sight, watching as she binds his other arm as well. You gulp as she straddles his lap.

“Oh such a good boy…” Margaery coos, running her hand into the northerner’s hair and then gripping the curls tight. Having a King bound to a chair before you–inside a tent or not–is a rather quick way to encourage your confidence. For it to drip through your veins and pump the blood raucously. She smirks down at him as he groans. His eyes are as fierce as the wolf he is. “I almost feel guilty for playing with you but if you want to be a King, you will have to earn that right.” She licks her lips and dips a hand between her breasts. The King gasps, matching you simultaneously but then she pulls out a grey fabric and brings it to hover before his mouth. His eyes snap up to hers. “You must trust my practice, King Stark.” He growls but begrudgingly parts his lips enough to bare his wolfish teeth. Her giggling attracts your ears as she slides the gag in his mouth. She raises a single hand in the air and beckons you close. You freeze. “Come, my Queen.” Her free hand runs along his jaw then hardens it, pulling him closer with an intensity you didn’t expect. “He’s pretty isn’t he, dearest?” You merely nod, looking at your husband as the Tyrell tugs at him. Her eyes flit over to you as she smirks. “This is not the first time you have both played this game, is it?” Her grin deepens when your reluctant nod pleases her. Robb bites his lip, trying to hold back the moan. “I was wondering why you do not mind me playing with him but now I see…You enjoy it. Seeing someone else in power for once, taking him…” She slowly tilts her head. “Would you like to tame him? The big bad wolf? You will need to find your voice, pet.” A tentative step forward is all she needs to see to broaden her wicked grin. She slaps Robb’s cheek sharply and climbs off his lap. “There’s a smart girl.” Her hands reach you while her face squeals in girlish delight—a sight you are not used to.

“We are going to have so much fun.” She purrs and releases one of your hands to stroke her index along a lock of your hair. Her eyes darken with a sea of lust pushing desperately against a restraining barrier. She brushes back your hair and leans closer until her breath is fanning across your lips. “And so we have acquired another player.” The sea crashes—taking your kiss with it—as she presses her lips to yours and drowns in it. Margaery Tyrell is a woman of many talents and one of those talents is knowing exactly what she wants but more importantly how to get it. A gasp slips from your mouth to hers as her fingers trail up your thigh. She slowly lowers herself until she has to pan her head to look at you. Her eyes stay misty. “I’ve always wanted to taste a Queen.” With the flick of her tongue, she pushes you back to lie on the table and spreads your legs with ease, rustling the wretched grey fabric. “Always so modest.” She tuts as she dives her face beneath and skips her tongue along your inner thigh. A rumble burns at your throat, your eyes squeeze as tight as your fists in anticipation. “So sweet,” Margaery commends before darting her muscle across your hidden pearl, wetting the fabric above. “Yes, I think I would like to join you on that throne of yours, we are going to have a lot of fun, sweet blossom.” Her hands turn commanding. “Oh such a good boy…”

“We are going to have so much fun.” She purrs and releases one of your hands to stroke her index along a lock of your hair. Her eyes darken with a sea of lust pushing desperately against a restraining barrier. She brushes back your hair and leans closer until her breath is fanning across your lips. “And so we have acquired another player.” The sea crashes—taking your kiss with it—as she presses her lips to yours and drowns in it. Margaery Tyrell is a woman of many talents and one of those talents is knowing exactly what she wants but more importantly how to get it. A gasp slips from your mouth to hers as her fingers trail up your thigh. She slowly lowers herself until she has to pan her head to look at you. Her eyes stay misty. “I’ve always wanted to taste a Queen.” With the flick of her tongue, she pushes you back to lie on the table and spreads your legs with ease, rustling the wretched grey fabric of your robe. “Always so modest, hm? Don’t worry, we’ll fix that.” She tuts as she dives her face beneath and skips her tongue along your inner thigh.

A rumble burns at your throat, your eyes squeeze as tight as your fists in anticipation. “So sweet,” Margaery commends before darting her muscle across your hidden pearl, wetting the fabric above. “Yes, I think I would like to join you on that throne of yours, we are going to have a lot of fun, sweet blossom.” Her hands turn demanding, her nails sinking into your thighs. A yelp rebounds from your lips in time with a distant growl. You sit upright on shaky elbows to let your heavy-lidded eyes gaze upon your needy husband, a dribble of saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth, gag wet. Perhaps fabric is not a desired material. She rolls an ‘r’ along your bud, delighting in your sharp intake of breath. Robb rumbles once more. Margaery sighs. “You can either behave or wait even longer. I will bring your wife to her peak once more for every sound that comes from your lips but you will receive nothing until you have learned to prioritise your beloved.” Her voice is muffled but resounding. She commands him as well as she would command a disobedient mutt. Her tongue licks up your residue. “If you were my wife, I would drink from you every waking moment and if I were your King, I would keep my face tucked between your thighs. Escaping my lips would be your hardest battle.” Margaery moans. Robb growls at the rose’s words but the soothing strokes of her tongue please you.

She pulls back, smirking at the whines that drip from your mouth. “And so needy too.” She chuckles as she pulls away, her curls tickling up your thigh. You jump in sensitivity but it all makes her coo like caressing a flightless bird. “Aw, sweet darling. Need us to take care of you, huh? Is he not taking care of you? Poor thing…We’ll just have to take care of you, ourselves.” A deep growl permeates from your husband, his arms straining against his ties but as your eyes linger on his form, his cock looks aching as it strains through his trousers, the tip of it wetting the fabric. The poor man must be absolutely throbbing and yet that doesn’t make you pity him, it only entices you. Margaery raises a finger to rub pressured circles on your bud. She chuckles when you hiss and your elbows collapse you to lie back on the table again. The image of your husband’s hungry face lingers in your mind but it’s Margaery’s hair that you move to grasp between your fingers. Your hips grind as her tongue returns to lap at you. “That’s it,” You encourage, delighting in the wet noise.And then it comes again, the sensitivity crashing over your cunt. Your eyes shut tight and your face scrunches up as a long pitiful whine pushes past your lips. The whimper of the Stark King only sends another wave to flow onto Margaery’s tongue who doesn’t lessen her pace until she can swallow down every drop.

Your body falls imp, sprawled out. Your legs tremble as they hang off the side of the table but finally Margaery’s greed softens and she pulls back. Your glistening wetness still coats her lips as they grin up at you. Her hands slither up your body, starting at your thighs until they settle on your waist. She squeezes gently before spreading them. You hiss briefly but are quickly hushed when she kisses up your neck in soothing patterns. “I will not mark you yet.” She whispers in purring vibration. “But if you ever tire of wolves, I will be but a moment away.” She kisses the space behind your ear. A tempting little rose she is as she pulls away, cupping your hands as she tugs you to stand on your shaky legs. She tuts. “So used today, don’t worry, it’s your turn.” The scent of her hair wafts thickly up your nose, clouding your other senses as she pulls you, one arm now around your waist. When you finally look up from the floor, you see Robb’s piercing eyes waiting for you with the patience of a wild boar. She slowly winds your legs so you can straddle your husband who quickly nuzzles against your neck. Margaery delights as she wraps around you from behind, kissing up your opposing shoulder as her hands help yours to slip down Robb’s smallclothes. However, it is you who raises your fingers to tear open the offending fabric on your husband’s chest and who rips the gag away to replace it with your lips. He grunts and ruts his hips. His member throbs, the top purple and preening for attention. You can almost feel it begging. Margaery’s warm palms roll your hips, grinding you against it but you do not complain. His lips are wet with saliva and sweat but it doesn’t deter you, letting the salt flit across your tongue.

Margaery praises you as you gather the strength to slide onto his length, gasping out as it fills you for the first time in a week. He groans loudly, eyes already rolling back, it’s the final straw for him to snap off the ropes and capture your hips while you sink onto him. When you finally drop onto him, your arms hook around his neck. “Be good for me, that’s it,” You encourage as he whimpers like a pup. Margaery beams with pride as she brings her fingers to roll your nipples back and forth. “Tell her how much you want it.” Margaery prompts, voice growing gravelled. “That you want her, that you want to fill that sweet little pussy, hm?” Robb nods, and thrusts hard into you, a yelp streaming from your lips. “I want you.” He moans, hot breath panting as his grip tightens. “Want you more than I’ve wanted anything. Iw ould give up my crown and my line for you.” A high pitched noise escapes you as your hips rock faster back and forth. “Want to keep you full of me. You want that? You want me to keep you full?” Your nods are all he needs to finally let loose and spill, you tighten as Margaery flicks the pebbles of your breasts. You throw your head back but the rose of Highgarden is quick to rake one hand into your hair and tug you to face her. “That’s right, my queen. Release for us.” And you do, your womanhood spasming as a thick cream rings around your husband’s who sighs breathily and kisses up your neck. A line of wetness slides up as your companion chuckles low.

General Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings | to be added there you can creep into my asks) @hopelesswritergall @its-actually-minicika

Margaery Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings | to be added there is a link attached to wear you can comment or you can step into my asks ♡)

Robb Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings | to be added there is a link attached to wear you can comment or you can step into my asks ♡)

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Text

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐚 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 4.8k

chapter summary: Due to a power outage in your home, you have to stay with Joel and Sarah for a couple days until it gets fixed.

warnings: female masturbation, accidental eavesdropping, pillow humping/fucking (joel)

Chapter Five || Chapter Seven

You only see butterflies.

You see them fluttering at the window, in your kitchen, in your bedroom. You see them sitting on top the mirror in the bathroom, you see them in the cupboards. They’re everywhere. They consume you. In every shape and color, you see them. You see stars on top of their wings, circles, hearts. Some are white, some are pink. But most of them are blue.

They remind you of him. Of Joel. And you draw—you paint.

You sketch wings on paper. Paint colors that become them. It’s him. It’s Sarah. It’s Tommy. It’s Olivia. Your brother. Your grandfather. It’s everyone that lingers in your heart, in your mind. You see them in the shapes that you draw. All of them distinctly different.

Joel is a dark red, a dark purple with splattered white. The wings are sharper, longer, the largest butterflies. The ends of his wings have long extensions like antennas. It is beautiful, ethereal, strong.

Tommy’s butterflies are similar to Joel’s, only softer around the ages and smaller. Blue, golden, a light shade of red. His wings glimmer under both sunlight and moonlight. Sarah’s are the smallest, pink and blue with a lighter shade of purple. Her design is the most elegant, her wings curl at the end, more fairy-like.

Olivia’s are green, her wings long and slender. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t drawn inspiration from Tinker Bell—green, yellow with light blue specs.

It’s the early hours of the morning, soft sunlight only just starting to spill from the windows. Despite your sweatshirt and the blanket you had haphazardly thrown over your shoulders, the early chill settles in your bones. You narrow your eyes, tilting the sketchbook, you hold it towards the overhead light. It’s hard to see and your eyes sting when you blink. But you don’t stop, you can’t stop. They’re everywhere and you need to draw them, you need to put them on paper before they disappear. It’s been months since you’ve painted anything. Now that the colors were splashing over white you don’t want to stop. It’s a breath of fresh air.

Finally, you’re breathing again after being submerged for so long.

The realization that you had feelings for Joel, and Tommy for you, make this unrestrained desire to create even stronger. You’re breathing because of Joel—because he had told you to draw butterflies. You want to show him what you’ve made, you want to show Tommy as well. It should make you afraid. The things that you feel. He has someone after all, no matter how serious their relationship might or might not be, however, isn’t this the perfect motivator for any kind of artist? You feel pain. A different kind of pain that you can actually use instead of the grief that aches in your bones.

Pain is one of the fundamentals of art. The beauty of art comes from within, and so does pain, it’s the process of creating it not the end product. It’s the journey. Some of your favorite artworks are derived from pain; Dorotea Tanning’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, Dali’s Elephants, and The Broken Column by Frida Kahlo.

Despite being transfixed by Dali’s work (his work with butterflies has been a strong inspiration in what you make), you feel most drawn to Tanning’s style of showcasing pain. You always saw yourself as the girl within the Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, walking down the blood-colored carpet, a giant sunflower in front of her, tattered and ruined. You were always curious about the cracked open door ahead, wondered what might be laying within the only room with an open door.

Your thoughts seep through the pencil, become shapes and lines on paper. You admire the texture of the clean sheets, the lead against it music to your ears. You draw and draw, some making less sense than others. Page after page your butterflies become something else, they become more gruesome with split heads and sharp, glass-like wings. You swallow. The sweat clinging to your skin is cold, your fingers numb.

And just like that you’re buried in muted darkness.

“Shit.” you hiss, looking up accusingly to the light. “What the fuck?”

You get up and head to the window, your fingers curling around the edge of the curtains. It’s early but it seems like some of your neighbors are already awake—and has light.

“Fuck,” you say again.

The sun warms your back. You’re staring at the blank screen of the TV. You hear the faint murmurs coming from the Miller’s kitchen, Joel paces back and forth, his socked feet silent. Anxiety clawing at your chest, you shove your hands between your thighs and keep them there. Joel appears. You look up at him as he leans down, placing the phone on the coffee table.

“So it looks like the power outage is gonna take them a couple of days to fix, maybe even a week,” your heart sinks at his words. He notices and a soft smile tugs at his lips. “Don’t look so worried. You can stay here, we have a spare room. I’ll check on them to see they're doing everythin’ right.”

“Oh,” you say, a hint of worry etched into your voice. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you with all that. I was just thinking of just calling up my brother, or I can stay at Olivia’s.”

He waves you off in dismissal. “You ain’t troubling anyone. Besides, it’ll be easier to just bring what you need here. Or if you forget somethin’ you can just go and get it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, darlin’,” he answers, voice dropping a beat. “Stay.”

A shudder settles at the base of your spine. You nod. You feel a thick knock in your throat as you swallow. You can still see the lines of sleep mapping across his cheeks, his bed hair a sight to behold. Looking down at the coffee table, you try not to think about how good he looks with his gray sweatpants hugging his thighs—you especially try not to think about the night you drew shapes across his hand and forearm with nothing but your fingers.

You dream of painting him. Putting him on a blank canvas and hanging it on your wall. He’s a beautiful man. Strong body, a pronounced nose, warm eyes.

Sarah's sudden jump off the last step startles you and interrupts your thoughts. When she sees your expression, she looks puzzled herself.

“Mornin’,” she greets you, ready for school. “Did something happen?”

“Power outage,” Joel answers on your behalf, Sarah turns to him. “She’s goin’ to be stayin’ with us for a while.”

Your heart melts at how wide Sarah smiles, you can see the glimmer in her eyes. “That’s great!” she sits next to you. “Well, not great great, but we can have a sleepover! It’ll be fun, you can teach me how to draw.”

“Sarah…” Joel warns.

You cut him off before he can say anything else.

“That sounds great,” you smile. “I actually have a couple of drawings I’ve been meaning to show you guys.”

“Really?” Joel asks.

“Yeah, really.” you answer, grinning at his surprise. You pull out the sketchbook from your bag and place it on your lap. Heat grows between your legs as Joel sits next to you, the meat of his thigh pressed snug against your own.

Both Miller’s lean in closer, staring at your drawings—themselves, in a way. You don’t think they’ll notice, especially not Joel, but you realize that maybe Sarah does. Her fingers delicately move over the drawing that you did thinking of her.

Sarah grabs your arm and diverts your attention back to her, “Butterflies.” she murmurs.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“With milk,” you answer. “A lot of it, preferably.”

“So milk with a dash of coffee,” he grins, amused. “Got it.”

It’s been a couple of days since you moved in with Joel and Sarah. It was much easier to live with the father-daughter due than you initially had thought. Tommy came over in the mornings, dropping you off to work and Sarah to school, and the brothers went to do their own thing after that.

With Joel’s back turned to you, you look down at your sketchbook and add another line to what is supposed to be his unruly hair. He really needs a haircut.

Surprisingly living with him isn’t weird at all. He made you feel welcome. No awkward glances, no awkward touching. Just neighbors helping each other out. He places the steaming mug next to you and leans on his elbows. He looks at what you’re drawing and raises an eyebrow.

Joel brings the mug to his lips.

“You’re paintin’ me?”

“I’m sketching you,” you answer. “You’re a lovely specimen.”

“Is that so.”

The scent of coffee fills your lungs. Lifting your gaze, you observe his facial structures. You see the imperfections, take in the sight of his eyes, his bushy eyebrows, and the bald patches in his beard. You want to touch the small beauty park right in the corner of his eye that’s impossible to see unless you’re an inch further away.

If he knew how you saw him—if he knew how big he was in your mind— Joel would be terrified.

“Do you like art?” you ask, taking him by surprise. He takes a sip of his coffee and your gaze drops back to your sketch.

He hums, fingers thrumming the kitchen counter. “I like your art.”

“I should take you guys to an art gallery or something,” you say, smiling. “If you like mine, you’re going to go nuts over the things that are out there.”

Joel pouts and you roll your eyes. “What are you looking at me like that for?” you ask.

“I like your drawings. They’re—They feel close. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

It’s because it’s you who I think of when I create them.

“Do you know Salvador Dali?” you ask, then quickly add. “Or Dorothea Tanning?”

“Sweetheart, the only artist I know is Da Vinci and I’m not even a hundred percent sure he is one.”

“He is,” you affirm him excitedly, looking back up. “I love surrealism. It’s when everything gets really weird basically. So—wait let me show you. I think I have a couple of pictures between the pages.”

You miss the way Joel’s lips slowly curl up, adoration and fondness adorning his face, softening the edges. He comes closer. Your pulse quickens as your fingers rush to find the images, and when they do you basically rip them out from between the pages

“Look.”

All of them are images from Dali’s artwork. Mainly butterflies. Joel observes them carefully, touching them as if fearing he might stain them. You urge him to take a closer look by placing one between his thick fingers. It’s The Butterfly Rose.

“Never thought you would do homework for a hobby.”

“It’s not—” You let out an exasperated sigh, cutting yourself off mid-sentence. “Do you think I want to work at the coffee house forever? It’s not just a hobby. And of course, as an artist, I look at other art to be inspired. They make me feel things.” Seeing the startled expression on his face, you add, “Don’t you get like…shivers or something when you see a very nice wooden table?”

Oh, you made him uncomfortable. You sense that in an instant. His fingers trace the image of the painting, looking down, you notice the crease between his brows deepening with concentration. Was he concentrating on the image? In your words? You have no idea—the only thing you know is that this man concentrating on art is making your insides clench with a need.

“Sorry,” he grumbles. “I didn’t mean it like that. I do think you’re a serious artist. It’s just…fuck that came out wrong. I just didn’t think you would put in this much effort to somethin’ I said,” he shakes his head. “Shit, I’m bad at this.”

That undeniable need to touch him comes rushing back. You bite the inside of your bottom lip instead. “ I think I might’ve overreacted after hearing the same thing from my brother all the time. It’s all good. You might be the only one that takes me seriously so it was unfair for me to jump to conclusions like that.”

“He don’t support you?”

“He does…” you trail off. “In his own way, I guess.”

“That doesn’t sound like support,” he answers, clicking his tongue. “And just FYI I like your butterflies better, sweet tea.”

“Sweet tea?” you ask, lips curling with amusement and eyes widening with shock.

He shrugs. “You said you liked Dorothea…somethin’---”

“Tanning.” you quickly say. “So Sweet Tea as in…the last syllable of her name?”

“Would you rather I call you Tea?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope!” you grin, your heart elevated. “Sweet Tea is perfect.”

With a soft smile, Joel places the picture in front of you and gently taps on it.

“Well then, Sweet Tea,” he says. “Tell me more about this surrealism thing.”

You and Tommy are waiting by the truck for Joel and Sarah to buy snacks from 7-Eleven. You remember the funny looks the Millers gave you when you suggested buying snacks at the cinema instead. Joel had just shaken his head and steered you towards the truck, his hand on your waist. The touch burned you.

Then he proceeded to explain the thrill of sneaking something through the cinema doors, and how they deserved it due to their overpriced snacks. The latter you couldn’t really object against. However, you had no idea that the Millers were such kleptomaniacs.

Tommy had a cigarette between his lips, he pulls it out and exhales a puff of smoke. You watch it mixing into the dark blue night.

“How’s it like staying with my brother and niece?” he asks. “Hopefully Joel ain’t given’ you too much trouble.”

“Oh. Not at all,” you smile, waving your hand. “He’s been nothing but kind. You have nothing to worry about.”

Tommy nods, and he flicks the cigarette to the pavement, stepping on it, he comes closer. “Good good.” you feel his heat, his breath. You shudder. “I miss spendin’ time with you…I mean without anyone else.”

His voice is a low hum in your ear. You had missed hanging out with him too, but now it's clear that your feelings don't quite match his. Your gaze drifts to the windows of the 7-Eleven, where Joel and Sarah are at the register, scanning the items and chatting. A burst of laughter from Joel warms your heart.

Tommy touches your chin, pulling your gaze back to him. Your pulse quickens under his touch. You swallow.

“You’ve been distant lately,” he states. “Did I do somethin’?”

“What?” you gasp, then furiously shake your head. “No. No, of course, you didn’t. I’m…It’s just been hectic with trying to get the power back and the drawings—It doesn’t mean anything, I promise.”

“If you say so, sweetheart.” he smiles and you fight the urge to let out a breath of relief. “Don’t think about it so much. Joel said the electricity will be back in no time, he might’ve…” he clears his throat. “He might’ve threatened them a bit but it was all light-hearted.”

You snort. “How can a threat be light-hearted?”

“You know,” he grins. “When you place a hand on a guy’s shoulder and just squeeze it a bit while smilin’. It’s unnervin’ really. He does that a lot, gives me the creeps sometimes. But then again, a man gotta do what he’s gotta do.”

“Well, I appreciate it.” you gently kick the pavement with the tip of your shoe. “But no threats necessary. I’m sure they’re going as fast as they can.”

“We got the goods!”

Sarah comes running, a wide smile stretched across her face as she hugs her jacket tight around her. Joel follows, a lopsided smile on his lips.

When Sarah reaches you and Tommy, she looks around then back to you, she opens the front of her jacket. “See,” she smirks, showing you the various snacks hidden underneath the thick layer.

Tommy whistles. “That’s quite a haul, baby girl. How long is this movie? Five hours?”

“I wish,” Sarah snorts. “I’ve been waiting for this a loooong time uncle Tommy. Let me enjoy it.”

Joel appears next to you, his own jacket also looking a bit tighter. You look up, smiling, and he parts his jacket, showing you, as Sarah had dubbed, “the goods”.

“I just want to say for the record,” you exclaim, opening the back door. “If you two get sick I’m not cleaning up after you.”

“You break my heart, Sweet Tea.” Joel answers, hand on his chest as if he’s been shot. “And here I thought you had my back.”

“I do but not for self-inflicted stomach aches.”

Sarah slides in after you and Joel takes his place at the passenger seat. Tommy looks at you through the review mirror as he buckles his belt.

“Sweet Tea?” he asks.

“Long story,” you answer, “I’ll tell you later.”

The cinema. A place where every art form, visual or otherwise, shakes hands and comes together to create the most amazing of worlds.

Ever since you were a kid you had this connection to the atmosphere. The scent of popcorn, the dim lights, the other movie enthusiasts excited to witness the magic of it all. You don’t know what it is that draws you to it. From memory, you remember instances where it would only be you and your brother at the movies, the two of you practically owning the dark room for about two hours. It was fun, it was almost magical. Just you and him. That’s it. It was a small town so it wasn’t a hard thing to come by.

Now it’s the opposite. The screening room is filled to the brim, not one seat empty. Joel is on your left side and Sarah on your right, next to her sits Tommy. You notice she keeps patting her jacket. A small smile tugs at your lips, it almost looks like she’s afraid that the snacks would disappear.

Despite the past and the present being drastically different, the feeling is the same. It’s a similar feeling to returning home after a long time. You’re excited, giddy almost. And it’s not because of the movie you’re about to watch—Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, one of Sarah’s favorite franchises— it’s from the memories of it.

The lights turn off completely, the commercials start to play.

Joel leans in, his shoulder brushing against yours. His lips touch your ear and your stomach tightens. You’re happy he can’t see your face. It would’ve been a dead giveaway if he did.

“Pass these to Tommy,” he whispers, handing you a box of milk duds. You do as you’re told, Joel then pulls out a pack of Reese’s Pieces. “I do prefer the cups,” he mutters into your ear, you’re not listening, you just focus on the warmth of his breath and the way he turns your hand over. “But these will do for now.”

You feel the small bite-sized peanut butter and chocolatey goodness falling into your sweaty palm. Throwing back your head, you plop them all into your mouth. You feel his gaze but purposefully keep your eyes glued to the screen. He’s too close. His presence bearing onto you like a heavy blanket.

The movie finally starts and you do everything to keep your non-existent attention span on the large screen.

An hour in, goosebumps begin to rise over your skin. It’s cold. The chill is something you always forget about the cinema. You didn’t really have a need to bring your jacket with you when you went out, the night air being warm. But of course, you’d forgotten that you always got chilly in the cinema, no matter how hot it was outside.

Joel must’ve felt your shivering because soon enough you feel his fingers curling around your wrist. He shuffles closer.

“Are you cold?” he murmurs and you nod. His fingers don’t desert you as he moves over Sarah to grab his jacket. He throws it over you, warmth immediately coiling around your body. “Better?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” you say. “Thanks.”

You’re hyper-aware that his hand remains on your wrist, some portion of his jacket covering your tangled limbs. His fingers tighten, thumb smoothing over your heated skin. Your skin prickles under his touch and soon he starts to skim your forearm up and down with the tips of his fingers. You cheat a glance at him but his sole focus is on the screen. His lips are pressed tight, brows pinched together. When a specifically bright scene appears on screen, you can see the vein meandering down his neck.

You want to stare at him forever but you know you can’t. Your eyes flitting back to the screen, you ignore the way his fingers continue to move. His touch is much rougher compared to your own. More textured. His blunt nails scrape against your skin, the pads of his fingers travel to your knuckles then move back up again.

It almost feels like he’s returning the gesture from before. The thought strikes fear. Is this his way of telling you that he knows? That he’d sensed your emotions through your fingertips and telling you; I see you.

You want to snatch your hand away and your fingers twitch with the need for it. You haven’t heard Asha’s name for a while— But it’s not like Joel talked much about his personal life, and when your alone times with Tommy became limited you heard very little from the ongoing relationship.

In the end, you don’t pull your hand back and he doesn’t stop touching you. The darkness hides the want, the need, the attraction. Because that is what this is right? Attraction. You’re not alone in your feelings. You can’t be. This was a silent message. A plea for you to say, I see you, back.

And you do see him. You always have.

The feeling of his fingers long lingers even after the intermission has come and passed. It stays with you as you exit the movies, as you listen to Sarah excitedly talk about her favorite parts, as Tommy bids you three farewell and drives on home.

It lingers still.

You don’t know what time it is. The only thing you do know is that it’s late. Very late. But no matter how much you toss and turn you can’t sleep. Your mind is wide awake with thoughts of Joel and nothing else. Him and his fingers, his lips, his neck.

It shouldn’t surprise you that you end up sneaking a hand under your shirt, feeling yourself and imagining it was him instead.

The sensation of your fingertips brushing over your sensitive skin is electrifying. You close your eyes and imagine it's Joel's hands exploring your body, his fingers tracing circles around your nipples and teasing them until they become tight and hard. His lips trailing down your neck, leaving a burning trail behind.

You bite back your moans as your hand moves further down, slipping between your thighs. Your fingers tease and stroke, exploring every inch of your wetness. You press down harder, your body aching and begging for more, as you think of Joel's hands exploring you. His fingers slipping in and out of your folds, tantalizing and teasing you until you can't take it anymore.

“Joel,” you whisper into the darkness, a prayer. “Joel, please.”

Your breathing becomes shallow as your orgasm builds, and you moan out his name as you let go. The sensation washes over you, and you can almost feel Joel's hands on your body, his lips on your skin. When you pull out your fingers, you feel like a ragdoll, your limbs buzzing with your fading orgasm. You let out a breath.

The phone rings.

Your eyes narrow when you see Tommy’s name flashing on the small screen. Confusion and worry clouding your post-coitus haze, you pick up the phone.

“Tommy,” you answer. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” he lets out a breath, his voice sounds frenzied. “I…I saw a—” whatever he was about to say he must’ve decided against saying it because the rest never comes. “I want to ask you somethin’”.

“You can ask me anything.”

You say it but in hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have. Your heart is restless, your stomach clenching and unclenching in the span of seconds. You hear him breathing heavily from the other line.

“Would you like to go out with me?” he asks in one exhale. “Like…on a date.”

Joel doesn’t want the day to start. It’s unbearably warm, and unknowing to him, he had cast his shirt to the floor sometime during the late night. The morning chill settles over his back. His eyes are closed, his cock hard. He presses temptingly into the pillow between his legs. He has no idea how it ended up there, but he’s grateful for the added pressure. Joel doesn’t think he could ever forget what happened last night.

The way he touched your burning skin under his jacket, the way you kept stealing glances from him—it was all still too vivid in his head. But then…then you went to bed, and so did he.

When he woke up in the middle of the night to get water, he didn’t expect to hear his name coming from your room. He waited and listened, you whispered it again. It was such a faint sound that if it wasn’t the dead of night there was no way he could’ve heard it. His cheeks heat up at the memory. He just stayed there, like a deer in headlights, and fucking listened to you get off with his name tenderly falling from your lips.

Joel had turned and rushed back to his room, his parched mouth now filled with saliva, water forgotten.

And now, with those thoughts swirling in his head, he grinds himself into the soft pillow. A low groan echoes from the back of his throat. He squeezes his eyes tighter. What were you thinking about? Was it images of him tasting your cunt? Him fucking his cock deep into your sopping heat? Which one was it? What was it that forced those sounds out of your lips?

Frustrated by the lack of friction, his eyes snap open with something resembling anger. Joel kicks off his sweatpants, brings the pillow underneath him, and squeezes the ends together, forming a crease. He shoves his aching cock between them, wishing it was you instead.

He leans back, letting the warmth of the pillow engulf him, and takes a deep breath. His body is trembling as he moves his hips slowly. He lets out a low moan as his hips grind against the pillow, the sensation of it rubbing against his hard cock setting off sparks of pleasure throughout his body. The morning sun pours from between the curtains, kissing his skin. His hands grip the pillow tight as he moves his body faster and faster, letting out a series of moans and gasps.

He imagines it's your body he's thrusting against, your soft curves, your tight embrace. His breathing becomes laboured, his balls draw tight, his stomach clenches. He sees a dark patch growing across the fabric. Joel collapses, his face pressing into the sheets as he rocks his hip forward like a dog in heat. His skin feels raw and over-sensitive. Every time the fabric rubs against his skin, he hisses.

With one final thrust, he lets out a long, drawn-out moan as he comes hard, his mind filled with thoughts of you.

He falls onto the pillow, panting heavily. The aftershocks of his orgasm ripple through his body. His cock is still pulsing with pleasure as it slowly softens. His hands run over the pillow, feeling the warmth and wetness left behind from his release. He can still feel the tightness of his orgasm, the pressure inside him slowly fading away. He closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting out a satisfied sigh. Joel wants to feel you against him, to cage you in between him and the bed.

His cock twitches.

Joel turns onto his side, his body feeling heavy. The guilt gnaws at his insides. What the hell is wrong with him? First, he touches you during the movies like a man possessed, then he listens to you through the door, and now he’s fucking his pillow with thoughts of you. He groans and flips over to his back. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, another groan leaving him.

He has a fucking girlfriend, and no matter how lax the relationship was, he couldn’t continue on doing this. He needs to break up with Asha, then he needs to talk to you, get things sorted.

When he allows his arms to fall to his sides, Joel entertains the thought that maybe—just maybe—everything might work out.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x f!reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #your friendly neighborhood queue #scheduled post

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epicsteddieficrecs · 1 year

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Epic Steddie Fic Rec | April 24th-May 7th 2023

Seems like spring has finally arrived for good and I am quite happy about it :)

Complete

🖤 Swing and a Miss by deadonarrival (Baseball Player Steve, Fake Relationship | 35K | Explicit): “Apparently they usually reserve the box for the wives and girlfriends … so either you’re gonna have to be my boyfriend or you’re going to have to sit in the stands with the fans. It’s not that bad, you just need to like, pretend to be my boyfriend so you can sit with the other WAGs and like, then you can be in the box and have all you can drink alcohol and snacks.” “Did you agree to this!?” Eddie asks. “If I say yes, how mad are you going to be?” Steve asks.

the reason comes (on the common tongue) by Beachfckerblake/ @stevebckley (Post-S2, A/B/O AU | 6K | Explicit): Eddie keeps Steve from succumbing to isolation syndrome after the fight with Billy and Steve offers to pay him back in a very creative way.

lose control by NicoBloodlust (PWP | 3K | Explicit): Steve has a plan. He’s going to seduce Eddie, but like, in a subtle way. Like he’s not trying at all like it's effortless. Except he’s actually trying really hard. He wants to make Eddie want him so badly, he’ll have no choice but to do something about it.

put your wings on me by hitlikehammers (Post-S4 | 4K | Mature): “Sorry. Again,” Steve breathes out once more like it’s Eddie’s for the taking, like they’re shotgunning just the fact of life between them and nothing more; “if that’s selfish.” — Or: a story about edibles, feelings, and the butterfly effect.

a cinematic vision ensued (like the holiest dream) by fivecenturiesverse/ @fivecenturiesverse (Post-S4 | 5K | Teen): Eddie and Steve have been spending a lot of time together since Vecna. They're co-parenting kids, getting high every night, and sleeping in the same bed. They basically share a wardrobe too. He thinks this is dangerous, its like they’re married, the casual sharing of intimacy, this space between them which feels like something and nothing all at the same time. He thinks it’s dangerous for him to pretend Steve sees it the same way, that one day Steve’s droopy, kind eyes are going to see right through him and he’ll lose this. This being a side of Steve’s bed that is his, a nightstand where his rings always pile, a draw of shirts in Steve’s bedroom that only Steve uses. He can’t lose it, so he shuts his mouth, turns out the light, and watches the slow breathing of sleep fill Steve’s chest.

like, for real? by NicoBloodlust (Post-S4 | 4K | Mature): But nothing could ever prepare him for what Steve does. Because Steve, fucking- Steve stands in front of him, close, really close, and looks at him, slowly and deliberately. Eddie can follow the exact path his eyes make, to his eyes, down his nose, over his jaw and chin, and finally, his lips. They linger there and then- then Steve takes a deep breath, so deep his chest rises and brings them even closer together and, still staring at Eddie with hooded, shiny, beautiful brown-green eyes, he sighs slowly. But it’s not just a sigh, it’s a sound, an almost but not quite moan.

where it counts by Adure/ @toburnup (Post-S4, PWP | 4K | Explicit): They finish the movie and when Steve pulls away, it's like Eddie's been branded, Steve's palm permanently emblazoned on his skin through his jeans. He must notice Eddie's hard-on but he doesn't say anything. They talk about the movie while Eddie keeps the blanket piled in his lap and wills his dick to calm down. "Next week?" Eddie asks on his way out, voice clumsy, tripping between words. "Yeah," Steve holds the door open for him, smiles easily like Eddie's not holding his jacket in front of him. So fucking obvious. "Next week."

a meeting between pages by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (Canon Divergent, S2 | 2K | Teen): There’s a table in the school library that’s nestled in the corner, right by a radiator; Steve has claimed it ever since his double block of ‘private study periods’ began. And it would be perfect, if his eyes weren’t instinctively drawn to movement at the front desk.Because for the past god-knows-how-long, Eddie Munson has been in a back-and-forth with the librarian.

an unconventional lookout spot by loveinhawkins/@loveinhawkins (Post-S3 | < 1K | General): It’s a long summer’s day—August 1985, to be precise—and all Eddie Munson wants to do is leave a broken down fridge in the junkyard. “I don’t know if you can dump those here, actually,” comes a voice from somewhere above. Eddie looks up and seriously contemplates the possibility that he’s contracted heatstroke while straining to remove the fridge from the back of his van. Because surely that’s not Steve Harrington sitting up on the roof of an old school bus like it’s a perfectly normal thing to do.

in for a penny, in for a pound by crushing (PWP, Virgin Eddie, Daddy Kink | 12K | Explicit): steve and eddie have been busy wasting time, getting high and telling dirty little secrets. the biggest of which being eddie's virginity and steve's seemingly insatiable lust. and maybe the crush they're both harboring.

WIP

🖤 better by you, better than me by palmviolet/ @palmviolet (Canon Divergent, Season 1-2 | 30/? | 158K | Mature | Warning: Violence): November 1983. Between unpaid bills, the supposedly straight jock he’s seeing, and letters from his convict dad, seventeen year old Eddie Munson’s got enough to worry about. But when Will Byers goes missing, it sparks a chain of events that will show there are more depths to Hawkins — and to certain people in it, like infamous Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington — than he realizes. / or, the excessively long slow-burn in which Eddie is involved in the Upside Down from the very beginning.

🖤 Reboot by plutosrose/ @plutosrose (Modern AU, Actor Steve & Eddie | 7/10 | 27K | Explicit): In 2012, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson film a scene in the teen drama Normal Stuff that launches a popular ship on ao3. By early 2013, they aren’t speaking anymore. In 2024, Robin calls Steve with an offer to reprise his role as Andy Hartley in a reboot of their old show, with one important update–his character gets together with Eddie’s.

In Just Seven Days by Oddree13 (Modern AU, Fake Relationship | 3/7 | 6K | Mature): Steve doesn’t exactly care about relationships anymore. Not after Nancy broke his heart and Billy broke his face. He’s bored and just going through the motions the first time it happens. Noelle asks him on Monday if he’s busy that coming Friday and Steve figures why not? He takes her to the movies on Friday, takes her to bed on Saturday, and on Sunday he lets her down gently. She takes it in stride, and the next Monday it’s Jocelyn at his locker. Then Ginny. Then Cami. Soon a rumor starts that Steve Harrington will accept anyone who asks him out at the beginning of the week and end their relationship after seven days of dating. Eddie doesn’t believe the rumors. After all, to say Steve Harrington would ignore the glaring asterisk of heteronormativity is just insane. But when he catches the King being tardy on a Monday he puts his theory to the test. Suddenly Eddie has a boyfriend for the next seven days. Now he just has to not fall in love.

No More Retreating by 3MinsOver (Post-S4 | 4/5 | 39K | Explicit): When Eddie Munson doesn’t kick the bucket in the Upside Down, he realizes there are a whole load of things he might have died without doing. And who’s there to help him out? Why, Steve Harrington, of course.

oh, just one night more (and then i'll close the door) by Smalls (Time Travel, Post-S4 Fix-It | 13/25 | 33K | Mature): Steve closed his eyes, raised a hand to wipe the tears pouring down his face, and spared a moment to wish that he could go back in time. He thinks if given the chance, he could have become friends with Eddie. That things could have been different. Then he heard a horn blaring and abruptly remembered he was driving. *** (or steve has a lot of regrets and the universe decides to let him try and fix a few)

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #steddie fic rec #epic steddie fic rec #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things

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valphorien · 2 months

Text

Metamorphosis

Rating: G Pairing: Elucien Word count: ~2,000 TWs: None Summary: How a butterfly and some reference books led Elain to reconsider the mate she'd been trying so hard to ignore.

Read on AO3!

He’d sent her books.

Elain thought it a strange change of strategy at first, until she realized he’d sent books to Feyre as well, tomes on Prythian art history. He’d even sent Nesta a slender copy of a volume on Valkyrie battle strategies. It seemed he had a surplus of books in his new home in the Day Court, where he now resided full time.

Feyre had not given her the details on that particular bout of drama, and Elain had refused to show any interest in the matter, even though it was exactly the sort of gossip she would’ve devoured in her old life. Spite won out against curiosity, but only just.

She’d accepted the books from Feyre without reading the titles and dropped them onto a shelf in her closet–atop the brown jacket whose pockets held enchanted gloves and pearl earrings. Despite her best efforts to glean no information from his latest gifts, she’d not been able to miss the elegant depiction of a butterfly etched into the top book’s cover. That drawing had tickled the dark corner of her mind that wondered about him, wondered what about these particular books had reminded him of her.

He thinks I am simple, she decided, that all I see are pretty flowers, and that I know nothing of their inner workings. He thinks I should learn about butterflies because I don’t know anything about them already.

In the spring, that butterfly resurfaced in her thoughts, when one wholly unlike any she’d seen before floated through her garden. She watched it flit on orange and black wings over rose bushes and between stalks of lavender. It drifted like a leaf on the river, never once landing before it dove behind a hedge and out of sight. Beautiful as Elain’s garden was, it did not offer whatever that butterfly sought, and watching it wander fruitlessly had sent a spear of longing through her chest: longing to provide, to nurture. To be useful in the one domain she was allowed to control.

She hoped the butterfly would return and give her garden another chance; but first, she had to learn what it needed.

That night, Elain peered into her closet. The butterfly book sat on top of The Classification of Soils and A Botanist’s Guide to the Night Court, Volume 1. Carefully, she slid Lepidoptera of the Solar Courts off of the stack.

Thankfully, there were illustrations. She didn’t let herself stop to skim any of the words as she flipped through the pages until she found one that looked promising. The illustrations were not colored, but the black lines and white spots along the wings’ edges matched quite well with what she could recall of her garden visitor. The word Monarch sat in bold script above the illustration, with a descriptive paragraph on the opposite page.

A brush-footed butterfly, orange with black veining, white spots along the edge of the wings, white spots on black body. The black veins on the female will–

Elain blinked and shook her head. She couldn’t read the whole page. That set a dangerous precedent to the book being interesting–it was intolerable enough that it be useful. She instead set to scanning the page for anything about eggs or caterpillars. Luckily, in addition to providing illustrations, the book’s author was also concise.

Host plants are any milkweed varieties native to the solar courts. Females lay eggs on the underside of the milkweed leaf, and larvae feed exclusively on the milkweed until the fifth instar. Larvae prefer to pupate as far from the host plant as possible. Chrysalis is a bright green with gold–

Elain slammed the book shut. She didn’t need to read about the chrysalis. She’d see it for herself. She only needed to find a milkweed plant that was native to the solar courts.

Her gaze drifted to the other books, where A Botanist’s Guide to the Night Court, Volume 1 sat with the silver foiling of its spine shining in the faelights’ glow. Taunting her.

Scowling, Elain stood and placed Lepidoptera of the Solar Courts on her bedside table. As she blew out a long breath, she willed the tension from her shoulders and picked up the other book. Lucien Vanserra could win, just this once. It’s not as though she had to tell him about it.

—

Those varieties of milkweed had turned out to be rather difficult to acquire. Her supplier in Velaris had few seeds and even fewer plants available. Elain cleared out their stock, much to the nursery owner’s surprise. Milkweed was highly uncommon in Velaris gardens, being considered, as its name implied, a weed. But he assured her that she’d have no trouble sowing more seeds come autumn.

As soon as she returned to the river house, she put the three plants in the ground. Two specimens had tall, gangly stalks topped by clusters of pink flowers, while the third was smaller with thin leaves and had not yet begun to bloom. Only an hour after planting, Elain was rewarded with the return of her orange-and-black visitor, who floated directly to the leaves beneath the pink blossoms.

Elain’s fae eyes found the eggs right away, dotting the undersides of the leaves like tiny pearls. Every day, sometimes every few hours, she bent over the plants until her hair nestled in the dirt to peer at those little eggs. At last, she ventured out to the garden one morning to find holes in the leaves where the eggs had been, and dozens of larvae the width of her smallest fingernail and half as long.

She tried to focus on other tasks throughout the garden, to stop herself from spending all her time worrying over the caterpillars; but it was summer, and there were only so many deadheads to prune, only so many leaves to sweep from the stone steps. Some days, when the river house was silent and there was nothing left to water, Elain allowed herself to lay on her stomach on the grass, her chin upon her hands, and watch the caterpillars nibble and creep, allowed herself to feel that swell of pride–that these creatures might not have found a home if not for her.

She did not allow herself that faint flutter of affection, stirring in the pit of her stomach, for the one who’d gifted her the knowledge she’d needed. She stamped it down whenever it threatened.

He couldn’t have known about that butterfly whose name she’d wanted to learn. He couldn’t have known how bugs like that made a garden, gave it blood and breath, just as surely as the soil. That they elevated the flowers to a purpose beyond beauty.

He could not have known, she insisted to herself, even on that day she spotted him on the other side of the windows of Feyre’s solarium. He did not look out to the garden even once as he spoke to her sister, but she knew that golden eye of his saw too much. Could it see even down to the fat, wriggling buds of life on the leaves before her?

It didn’t matter. As long as they were bound to the plants she’d planted, these caterpillars were hers alone. She could claim that much, at least.

As much as she could claim anything in this court.

—

Elain glared at the new plant in its makeshift paper pot, two vines adorned with broad, heart-shaped leaves winding around a wooden post.

It was a clever ploy. Gloves and pearls could be stashed away; gardening books, begrudgingly used before they, too, were shoved into the darkest corner of her closet. But a plant was alive, a gift that she could not, in good conscience, condemn to death by neglect.

Worst of all, it was a climbing vine, and damned if Elain hadn’t been looking for something to train on the garden’s eastern fence.

A tag sticking out of the soil read, Wooly Pipevine. A smaller tag, written in a different, elegant script, stated, host plant to swallowtail butterflies.

Elain folded her arms across her chest and huffed out a sharp breath through her nose.

Beside her, Feyre shifted on her feet. “Do you want me to get rid of it?” Ironic, as she’d been the one to accept it, the one who’d let that red-haired menace into this house to begin with.

“That won’t be necessary.” Elain bent to wrap her arms around the paper pot and, without a glance back at her sister, marched outside.

She grumbled to herself on the arrogance of the fae as she paced the length of the fence in search of a suitable spot. She grumbled more as she dug a hole, as she tossed in fertilizer and packed down the dirt with more force than was necessary. And standing back to observe her work, she grumbled still, on the choice of pipevine, of all things.

“They don’t even have pretty flowers!” she pouted to the plant in question.

Yet there it was again, that flutter of delight trapped inside her ribs; much of it came from the simple joy of a job completed, of new life and growing things. But there was that spark, too: warmth that circled her heart and squeezed it tight, etching upon it the words on that little tag, the words of someone who looked just a bit closer.

Two weeks later, a butterfly in shades of velvet midnight with a trail of black-rimmed suns along its wing drifted through her garden. It passed by roses, morning glories, even the pink and white blossoms of the milkweed, ignoring them all to alight upon a leaf of the pipevine.

—

Lucien looked as if he’d been caught in the middle of an attempted robbery–only he’d brought something into the house instead of taking something away. Elain wished she felt vindicated about catching him in the act, but it was a different sort of emotion tangled inside her chest, sending tremors through her limbs.

He’d brought another plant.

Elain kept her face a haughty mask, raising an eyebrow as she asked, “Passionflower?”

Still no vindication came to her, but she did feel a tad smug at how off-guard she’d put him. He inclined his head, looking suitably cowed. “Yes, my lady.”

“Why?” She forced accusation into that word, more than the curiosity that she’d spent so long swallowing, curiosity that had now grown so large she feared she’d choke on it.

Lucien met her gaze at last, and Elain caught a glimpse in his eye of the vulpine predator her sister had warned her about. That gaze held a danger that did not seek to intimidate or overpower, but to analyze. Dangerous in how much that gaze saw. Dangerous in how it did not feel dangerous at all. “I thought you might be looking for more host plants to add to your garden.”

Elain narrowed her eyes. “Are you well versed in the raising of insects, sir?”

He shifted the plant and its pot into the crook of his left arm. He winced as one of the little vines whipped at his cheek. “Not in the slightest.” Though he angled the plant away, the thin, curling tendril still swayed towards his face. Maybe it thought it had found the sun in his gold eye, or the reddish flakes of pine bark in the other.

Elain squared her shoulders and jerked her chin towards the plant. “It’s a host for the solar fritillary.”

He nodded. He did not look surprised. He’d done research on insect larvae and the plants that nourished them, a subject that he admitted little interest in. What led you to this? What did you see? The questions burned down her throat as she swallowed them. Did you look past the rose blossoms and see the thorns, the grubs, the detritus beneath? But it was too much to ask, too soon to hope.

“Fritillaries are rather plain,” she said instead, a half-truth. Fritillaries were a rusty orange with small streaks of black, but if one looked close enough, they would catch the striking white spots on the undersides of their wings. Had Lucien researched enough to learn that much?

But Lucien tilted his head and gave a smirk that somehow wore the guise of a frown. “I did not realize your garden had such a strict dress code, my lady.”

Elain blinked. She’d expected an empty apology. She’d grown used to being placated, to being offered deference that sounded suspiciously condescending. She did not expect a riposte, nor did she expect the smile that tugged at her lips in response. “Are you good with a shovel, my lord?”

It was a relief to see his eyes widen, to know that at least here, with a vine tickling his face, he did not feel the need to wear a mask, to hide his fear and hope. “I’m afraid I am untrained,” he said.

She turned to open the door to the garden. “Well, if you’re such a quick study on butterflies, I’m sure you can learn about planting.”

#elucien #elucien fic #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien fanfic #pro elucien

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rhodesrider · 4 months

Note

cody rhodes x black little??? she wants to try a new hobby and her daddy help her

They Come and Go…

CG!Cody R. x Black! Little! Fem!Reader

Warnings: Agere, affirmation nicknames, bugs, taking care of bugs, grief, the feeling of loss, taxidermy, again BUGS.

Minors DNI! 18+

“The beautiful hunter sees her prey, a beautiful orchid mantis sunbathing. This creature is so beautiful with their light pink hue, clearly it’s a female-“ Cody stopped the narration and looked back at the book to confirm and continue. “-Yes it’s clearly a female. Very rare in this case but the beautiful hunter knows what her limits are.” Y/N giggled and had the net ready, soon she caught it. “Daddy I got it! Did you see me?!” She squealed and giggled fixing her safari hat, “Good Job babygirl!” He smiled and helped her get the insect in the jar, made so they can have air and not try to escape. “Daddy she’s beautiful!” Y/N smiled holding the jar, Cody grabbed her books and her extra nets putting them in the box that was outside. “Ok baby, let’s get inside, give her a name and fix up her new home.” She got up fixing her hat and grabbing the jar and putting it in her wagon and going inside.

Cody later was getting some cookies together as Y/N was writing in her journal and drawing her new friend. She loved bugs including mantis, and always wanted an orchid mantis. Cody has always helped her with her insect hobby but not letting it go crazy, so having small stuff like an ant farms, a butterfly farm, and now some mantis she’s keeping. “What should we name her baby?” He asked putting her wagon away for her as she goes to wash her hands from outside. She put her safari hat on the counter and looked at the beautiful bug in the large jar. “Hello…hmmm…how about peach?” Cody chuckled some and nodded. “I think that’s perfect. You remember what peach eats?” She wanted to look in her book but Cody snatched it. “The best bug keepers have a memory as strong as a Hercules beetle.” He smirked. Y/N thought long and hard, “I know like some small butterflies and some houseflies…oh and they love crickets!” “Good job baby. Now you have any of those left from feeding the others?” She nodded getting the bowls and Cody helped putting gloves on and getting tweezers. “After we feed her we can make peach a nice place to stay and get her a lamp.” He pulled out the book again, “They love the warm and humid places.” She nodded and did so, getting started on decorating and getting dirt making sure there’s small animals in it to make sure she has a midnight snack if she needs it.

The place was ready and she carefully got Peach in. She was in awe of the creature, she was so beautiful. “Daddy, she’s amazing.” “Baby careful you don’t want Georgie and Leo jealous.” He was talking about her other mantis friends. “Go ahead and feed them too, I’ll go and get food ready.” She nodded and did so introducing each one to peach. Peach was hiding away but Y/N understood it’s a new place and she has to get use to it. She put them away and made sure the cages were closed. She went over to her moth friend and saw that she wasn’t as active.

“Daddy…” Y/N was worried. Her Luna moth was her best friend, lets her crawl on her arm and when she first arrived she helped her out her cocoon and spread her wings. Cody came in hearing the concern in his littles voice, seeing she was near her moth friend. “Hey what’s wrong with Luna?” He asked sympathizing with her, “I don’t know… she looks sick…” Y/N tried to get her to climb on her hand but she avoided it still hanging on to the spot she was resting on. “Daddy what’s wrong with her…?” Her voice started to get shaky, Cody then grabbed a moth book from her bookcase and went through pages to see what was happening. He feared the worst. “Baby when did we hatch Luna?” “She hatched like last month daddy…why what’s happening…” Cody sighed. “I’m sorry babygirl, but Luna doesn’t have that long…” Y/N shook some and looked at the still beautiful moth. “But…daddy she’s my best friend…” “I know baby I know but they only live for so long. We have to get ready for her to go. That’s just how life span works.” Y/N started to shed tears and it hurt Cody, he looked at the moth and then at Peach. “But I need for you to think of it this way, a friend has to go. But you gained a new friend today. Peach is here to keep you company and you still have George and Leo.” She nodded but was still sad about Luna. “I have an idea for Luna too, but you have to trust daddy. Ok?” Y/N always trusting Cody. But it still hurt knowing a friend would have to go soon.

After the days past, and Cody sending Luna off to a friend of his, Y/N was in black around the house upset. She looked at her safari hat remembering when she first saw Luna, as a green caterpillar, like the one in the book Cody read to her once. She made a habitat and got them in the house fast since it was going to rain. She looked through her book and found out what kind of caterpillar it was, amazed at the beautiful wings. She showed her the picture proudly, “This is what you’re going to be, when you get all big and strong!” She giggled, seeing the caterpillar was trying to climb on the wall like it was reading the book from the enclosure. Y/N informed Cody about their new friend and Cody read some on the habitat and what they like. Helping her improve in the living habits and giving more greens because Luna could eat they gave the name and it was official. Talking to her every night and soon noticing she caught Luna around the time of cocooning. She was worried at first but was there all the way being a happy moth mama. And now…she’s gone.

About two weeks later, the mail arrived and Cody smiled knocking on the door of her big room. “Babygirl I have a surprise for you.” He said coming in. She was feeding her Venus flytrap plants after she finished up with her mantis friends making sure everyone was fed. “Yes daddy?” “I know you miss Luna, so I did something for her so you two can never be apart.” He smiled handing her a box, she look it and opened it on the desk and she was in slight shock. It was Luna, only thing is she was framed. She had a single tear fall down and started to cry. “She’s still so pretty daddy..” Cody knew those were happy tears and hugged her close. Having Luna pinned was a good surprise. “Daddy thank you so much.” She sniffled and kissed his cheek. Cody put Luna on the wall over the desk and smiled as Y/N took pictures showing her friends that are also into bugs. Cody sighed happy that it worked and the plan didn’t go sideways. Happy that his little bug hunter was happy.

#wwe imagine #wwe one shot #wwe smackdown #wwe raw #age regression #agere headcanons #cody rhodes fanfiction #wwe cody rhodes #cody rhodes #cody rhodes x reader

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katyspersonal · 1 month

Note

Alright, go crazy, go stupid ✌️

48. What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?

For the Bloodborne girl cast!

uhhh, Maria, Doll, Annalise, Henriett, Gratia, Queen Yharnam, Ebrietas, Rom, Flora, Kos, Arianna, Adella, Eileen, white church doctor, black church doctor, Fausefka, Iosefka, Old Lady lol, Viola, Gascoigne’s daughters, Mergo’s Wet Nurse, Vicar Amelia, Witches of Hemwick, uhhhhhhh, Yurie, Bell Women, Cainhurst portrait women, Dores, Adeline,…..uhhhh….well….dammit if I have forgotten someone very important then I apologize to all women.

(Ask from this ( x ) meme) Ohhhh boy, look who heard out my wish to discuss the design features!! Thank you very much!

48) What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?

ATTENTION: for some of these characters I might use my own headcanons on their appearances as an answer!

Maria and Doll: their lovely super pale eyelashes! As usual, common Fromsoft W putting effort into a detail that is hard to notice by normal means!

As for the distinct design elements (which in their case their clothes), for Maria I love the cute smaller broches by either side of her main one, and for the Doll I love her cute floral-patterned gloves!

Annalise: I love her big forehead. I am worried that I miss out this feature on accident sometimes in my drawings of her (just need more art skill), but I am mindful about it!

Henriett: I love that she either 1) is implied to wear a makeup (gotta stay class no matter what) or 2) just has naturally different color for brows and eyelashes? Common Fromsoft W on details no sane person would detect yet AGAIN. Close second is her awesome top hat that no one wears like her.

Gratia: I love her red hair so much. She has the most red hair in the setting. I love this so much. Hers is more red than Cainhurst red, even.

(From this ( x ) page with datamined corpse models, some of the following ones will also be from here)

Queen Yharnam: This is exclusive for her pregnant/boss variant, the one we interact with peacefully doesn't have them. But I love cute rose-themed decorations around her gown! Adorable detail!

Ebrietas: Her big anime girl green eyes, what else I can say? x) The very distinct feature, and they look like there are green cosmic nebulas shining inside them!

Rom: This is hard to choose because this IS the perfect female body, I think her existence alone should prove how useless beauty standards are dhfsdh I will never be her 😔 Her adorable tails is the close second, but I love that she is a forest. What grows on her back is more resembling of tree branches with glowing buds! This is not lumenweed, this is lumenWOOD! XD

Flora: The small wings. Of the 'skinny' type and not birdlike type, same as Ebrietas' and celestial children, but kinda damaged, or undeveloped? These wings tell a story. Feels similar to how Amygdalae have just lump of flesh in the place of wings, but their Kin, Gardens of Eyes, do have beautiful butterfly wings! It feels like a theme of needing humanity (?) to be truly fulfilled. Jealous Moon, eh?

Kos: I love her fins, especially the fin on her back! Well, it doesn't look very fin-like anymore, and there is clearly better look at it on the concept art! Just...... fish

Arianna: I love her purple eyes! Really stands out! I was really excited to find out she had such unusual feature!

Adella: Similarly to Henriett, I love how her brows and eyelashes color has a contrast with her hair color! Hers is paler!

Eileen: The only truly notable feature about her design is her unique mask, as Bloody Crow wears the same garb, and I feel like it won't really say anything.. The girl doesn't even have canon face data! So let me pull my own out uhhh..

I am quite happy with her beak! x) I needed the resemblance of 'crow' in her visual design, you don't understand! My initial idea for her design, though, was making her blonde in earlier life and then have silver, basically white hair in her old age, while still having skin dark because contrast is so good. It would be to symbolise a change, from "sunshine" to "moonlight".. I got discouraged when I was told it was 'unrealistic' feature for dark skinned people (and should not have listened, because Bloodborne already has two characters canonically who are blondes with dark skin). If I ever backtrack on that idea for her, consider the beautiful white hair and how it contrasts to be the answer!

White Church Doctor: In this case I will go for the obvious answer. This is her cute mole! I am so happy when other people notice it too!! When someone draws this character and does feature the mole, I am so happy ;-;

Black Church Doctor: I love the shape of her eyes! Interestingly though, she uses the same sliders as female preset hunter (in initial character creation), and her eyes are green like Brador's and have a similar shape, also her eyelashes are same color as his. Both Brador and Paleblood Hunter come from the same foreign land as their clothes lore suggest, so... same country? Or even relation to Brador? Hello....?

Fauxsefka and Iosefka: Eyelashes. Eyelashes. They use the especially long variant of eyelashes. I always enjoy drawing them, especially Fauxsefka's!

Lonely Old Dear: This is the hardest one yet, because there is nothing particular to point out. There are no other distinct old female characters we are shown in the game, nor her outfit is unique as there are many corpses in this outfit in Yahar'gul (and one in the woods). I do like the cute setting-appropriate hat, but I think a more fair one is to say that they bothered showing her eyes condition!

Viola: I love her red brooch! ...that we never do see on her in the game. But I think it is a really good detail for her design, and the best color to contrast with both her hair and clothes!

Older Daughter: This is an interpretation liberty, since this can and likely is a blood drop, but I like to think she has a spot on her forehead!

Younger daughter: Another case where I gotta use my own design! I like how her appearance mixes that of both parents rather than resembling one or another x) Gascoigne used to have auburn hair and green eyes, so hers mix those colors with Viola's blonde hair and blue eyes!

Mergo's Wet Nurse: Uhhhhh everything?? She is so incredibly stylish? fdsjfdshfd I fucking LOVE the absurd amount of heavily detalized trinkets all over her body! Get it.... because crows love shinies...... haha....

(Take a closer look at all her glory in wiki's gallery ( x ))

Amelia: Her very tiny tail. :3

Witches of Hemwick 1 and 2: The fact that!!!!! the eyes are all different colors??? How sick is this??? Look at this! Some also have iris whitening, same as what happened with Djura's eyes, and others have fully enlargened pupil!

Witch of Hemwick 3: Okay, you absolutely saw this one coming lol. I love how wide is her nasal bridge! Very distinct feature! (Also coming clear with my skill issue, as I do not give a justice to her eyes; in reality they're smaller and located wider from each other!)

Yurie: I really like her lips shape, actually! Very full, very smoochable.

Bell-Ringing Women: I love the decoration circling around their cape! This really adds to the design, it looks so much better this way than if it was just plain cape as is!

Cainhurst portrait women: Damn, they are all so beautiful! I guess as for Bell-Ringer resembling one, the previous point applies! Though she looks like she could be mother of Iosefka and Fauxsefka? And the knight woman has a very distinct nose shape! With Annalise's mother (I am not sure who else would wear a crown on portrait whereas not being Annalise..), I of course love how long her neck is x) Her posture is so regal, and this emphasises it!

Similar feature shared with the one who wears silver variant of the Noble Dress (basically Arianna's dress, and even identical shoes, but a bit more detailed in a couple of places). I'm gonna say though, I do love the silver variant more than burgundy one, especially with Forsaken Castle Ghosts whose hair became platinum! And the old lady has not only the necklaces, but also earrings and the bracelet which are quite modest and harder to see, but they are here! I love this attention to small details!

Dores: As iconic as her wearing a scalp of Pthumerian face like a mask is, but my favourite bit is, actually, the ungodly amount of tools dangling from her belt! My Mico in his Research Hall surgeon era can only dream about the same level of unsettling x)

Adeline: Again, she has the appearance of a Research Hall patient with the exception of larger amount of belts (she is feral!) and unique bandana around her neck! It feels unfair to point out either of these, because... yeah, sure. They just make her distinct. So I'll refer to my version of her and say that I love her hair buns and want to squeeze them every time I draw her. x) The bandana IS precious, though!

______________________

Okay that was WILD, thank you for letting me go mad dfhahds You HAVE forgotten Hemwick Gravewomen, Evil Labyrinth Spirits, Snail/Slug Women, Mergo's Chief Attendants and female Beast Patients though XD I've met Tumblr images limit so I have to combine into one image.

But, Hemwick Gravewomen have strangely elongated skulls, and I love this bit. Considering the bandage over their forehead, perhaps, they've found their own way to place eyes on their brain? With statue behind Memory Altar and in the dungeons featuring a stitch over forehead and Rune Tool being found in Hemwick, would not be surprising. And with Evil Labyrinth Spirits, I guess I love the cool feature that is only in the concept art, but didn't make it into the actual model?? The evil red spirits erupting from her belly area are so badass??

With Slug Women, I guess the only thing I can tell is which variant I like more... And it is the shell one, of course x) Or simply red eyes with female Beast Patients! But with Chief Attendants, the plate on their bellies features upturned wings, and this is my favourite detail! They could represent wings of Wet Nurse or Flora! I love the mystery hidden on the plain sight so much!! Why could not Bloodborne give us a way to farm armour from mobs so we could read the description that would explain... ;-;

Okay, now my brain is OFFICIALLY fried (in a good way), and this post definitely will help me as a good self-reference! This is, however, now one of my favourite posts by myself, because.. many women.

#bloodborne #bloodborne reference #bloodborne headcanons #screenshots #ask replies #use later #multi character post

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jake-g-lockley · 2 years

Text

Born to be Yours: Part 1 (Marc Spector x fem!reader)

Masterlist | Playlist | Part 2

Warnings: A little bit of angst, smut (not too explicit in this part)

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: I decided it's best to come back with a bang (ehehehhe, ok ill stop now), and what other way to do it than to post on my birthday. BUT HI, THANKS FOR BEING PATIENT WITH ME <333 I'm going to start writing and posting more often from now on, part two of this should be up by Wednesday. Again, love y'all loads and enjoy this Marc fic hehe.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The toddler’s shrieks reverberated around the patio as you spun around with her in your arms.

“AHHH the monster will never let you go!” You squealed and tickled the toddler, drawing out loud giggles.

Suddenly, big, strong arms ripped the toddler from your grasp, leaving you confused.

“Your prince charming is here to save you, m’lady!” a fake English accent followed a gorgeous raven haired man who stepped into your line of vision.

You scowl, despite the flutter of butterflies in your tummy, at the person in front of you, as the toddler gives him a big kiss on the cheek. He winked back to you and set the toddler down, who toddled away to her mother.

“Didn’t expect for you to show up.” You say to the chiseled Greek god that decided to grace your presence.

He hands you a chilled beer as he not-so-subtly eyes you up and down.

“Yea, I was in town and had to rescue my princess.” His eyes snap to yours and you feel a little creature in the pits of your stomach awaken. You snort and take a little sip of your beer.

“How long have you been back?” you leaned against the railing.

“About a week. Been meaning to meet you.” he says with a genuine smile.

“Bullshit, Spector. You hate my guts.” You laughed, trying not to blush at his pretty smile.

The old butterflies that you tried so hard to push away from you instantaneously resurfaced the second you laid your eyes on Marc Spector, threatening to tear themselves out of you and surround you with their visually piercing wings, as if attempting to shield you from the yearning that you had endured all these years.

Gina had organized a little barbecue with drinks and you had dropped by after work, your usual office clothes swapped with a cream colored salwar kameez and a beautiful red bordered shawl in the same color. You would be lying if you didn’t check your makeup and salwar kameez about a billion times before coming here, after knowing that Marc would be joining. You had not seen Marc for months and a small part of you wanted to see him at the gathering.

“Gina told me that you’ve got a boyfriend?” Marc suddenly says, and you raise an eyebrow at him, trying to scan his face for even the smallest bit of reaction to the statement he had just blurted out.

“So what if I do?” you said, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“Lucky boy, I guess.” he shrugged, averting his dark eyes away from you.

“Gods, Marc, we’re 35, I don’t date boys, I date men.” you sighed exasperatedly.

“Mmm, so then why isn’t this a thing.” he said nonchalantly, gesturing between the two of you, his face masking any emotion that you wanted to pick up on.

“Okay, kiddos, cut it off, I can hear an argument brewing. Stop it before I kick the both of you out of the house.” Gina steps in before you could even answer.

“It's a civilized conversation Gina, and you should really stop telling this man stories about my love life.” you chastised, bringing the beer bottle to your lips, tipping your head back and chugging the rest of it before slamming the bottle down to the table. “And Spector, this right here isn’t a thing because we’re just not it.”

You walked away from Marc and Gina to go and mingle with the others but you swore you could feel Marc’s impenetrable gaze lingering on you. His words remained imprinted in your mind and it kept playing again and again.

Why isn’t this a thing?

Did Marc have feelings for you? Or was he just testing the waters? You shook your head to rid the thoughts that were circulating aimlessly around. You really needed to clear your mind.

You left the little gathering and stepped into the house, slipping into the bathroom. You do your business and then wash your hands when suddenly the door swings open and Marc steps in and closes the door behind him.

“Bloody hell Marc, I swear I locked that.” You gasped as Marc chuckled. Your hand clutched at your chest and you took a few deep breaths.

“Did you follow me here?” You questioned, once your breathing steadied slightly.

“What if I did?” he said, raising his eyebrows, a mischievous glint flashing through his eyes.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the sink to wipe your hands on the small towel. You planted your hands on either side of the sink and glared at Marc through the mirror.

“Why are you here then?” you say to his mirrored image.

“What do you mean by ‘We’re just not it’?” he interrogated.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t”

“Spector, we’re polar opposites, you like playing around with guns and being reckless, while I prefer the peaceful suburban life with no recurrent issues.” you sigh, bringing your hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “We’ve not seen eye to eye since we were kids and things will just not work between us.”

“We were just kids.” Marc smiled. “Times have changed.”

Tentatively, Marc took a step closer to you until he was standing directly behind you. Your glare faltered and your eyelashes fluttered slightly as he brushed his fingertips up your right arm and your grip on the sink loosened as tingles spread through your body.

“What if I told you we could make it work?” he breathed.

“We’re barely even friends, Marc.” You whispered.

He closes the gap, pushing you slightly against the sink and your breath hitched at his crotch pushed against the curve of your behind. You leaned back until you were flush against him, trying your best not to move against him.

“Mmm, is that what you want to be? Friends?” Marc uttered into your ear and you swore you could see his eyes glow white.

You wanted to answer him but that part of you, the sensible part of you, was tossed away, replaced with a prey who was trying her best to stand up to something a little too big for her liking.

Without a warning, he grabbed your hips and twirled you around to face him. On a normal instance, if someone had manhandled you like this, they would have had their head bashed in, but for some reason, a creature in you purred with Marc’s touch and your eyes voluntarily closed.

“Open your eyes and answer my question.” Marc’s breath tickled your face and your eyes opened instantly and you tried to nod.

“I-” Whatever coherent sentence you were going to utter was lost to the last of the air that escaped your lungs as your eye zeroed on the thin gold chain around his neck that had somehow escaped from his black button down shirt. You felt your world stop when you saw what he was wearing as a pendant.

Years ago, when Marc had left to join the military, you’d lost one of your favorite rings. It was a tiny gold band with a beautiful tiny blue sapphire that had been gifted by your late grandfather, an important family heirloom. Every night before bed you would take it off and set it on your bedside table, but on the day that the boys left, it was gone.

The pain of losing the ring and Marc at one go was too much for your teenage self to handle and you had cried for weeks. Now here it was, dangling from Marc’s gold chain, both of your cherished possessions back with you again.

You looped your finger around the ring and looked up at Marc’s eyes, demanding an explanation. Your questioning glare almost faltered as you met his now sad eyes.

“The day before I was drafted, I came to see you, to say goodbye, but you were asleep. I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, so I kinda just took your ring, you know, to have a piece of you with me.” Marc stumbled over his words, his usually authoritative voice dropping to a whisper as he got to the last part of his sentence.

He wanted to remember you.

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you searched Marc’s eyes for anything to prove your suspicions wrong and all you found was a look of yearning. You lifted a hand to his jaw, caressing his sharp jaw with your thumb and he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering close.

“How long?” you whispered.

You knew what you were meaning to ask and he knew exactly what you wanted to know.

“For as long as I can remember, I always knew I was born to be yours, Y/N.” he whispered, opening his big brown eyes.

His honey-like voice filled your ears with one of the most beautiful melodies on the planet as he said it.

Slowly, Marc leaned in and your breath hitches as you brace yourself for what was about to happen, when suddenly the door swings open for the second time in the evening.

The both of you turned to see Gina standing there staring with her eyes and mouth wide open. You almost lost your head at the comical expression that adorned Gina’s face as you shifted your hips for Marc to let go, but his grip on your hips only tightened.

“Marc, let go.” You leaned in and whispered in his ear, caressing his jaw slightly again.

He snapped out of his daze and dropped his hands.

The both of them stared at each other like deer caught in headlights and you took your chance to silently slip past the both of them, trying hard to ignore the familiar tingling at the bottom of your abdomen that Marc left you with.

You quickly mumbled your byes to everyone and got into your car. You tried shutting your eyes but all you could see and feel was flashes of him, his chiseled jaw, his big hands on your hips, his soft breath fanning your lips.

You thought about your little ring hanging from his chain and how all these years he’s had it with him. You sat there in the car for a while, taking in slow deep breaths, trying to calm yourself and tame the creature that was itching to get loose.

You thought about going back, dragging him home with you to settle your differences and get back to what really mattered. You wanted to release years of pent up pain and anger that he had accumulated in you and you wanted whatever he had just said to you to be oh so true.

But for some reason you couldn’t. You just couldn’t.

“Fuck this.” You mumbled and started the car.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marc’s thumb caressed your jaw as you stare in wonder and amazement at his heavenly face. You tucked a hand under his cheek that lay on the pillow beside you and he brushed his thumb across your bottom lip. You let a small desperate whimper escape your throat as his hand left your face. Marc shifted closer to you and you tipped your head back, exposing your neck as your fingers slid into his soft messy curls.

His large hand found its way under the sheets to grip your hips as he pressed soft kisses onto the little spot on your neck that made you melt into his touch and tug his hair a little harder.

“There, you like that don’t you, angel?” Marc’s voice shifted to a deeper, cooler tone that makes you shiver. Your jaw slacked slightly and your eyes shut slowly. Any coherent thoughts you had in your mind trailed and faded instantly.

His hands moved lower, guiding your leg over his body, which you gladly obeyed. His hand then slides upward, under your loose nightshirt to cup your bare tit. His talented fingers gently twist your already sensitive nipple as he bites and sucks at your neck. You moan gratefully, grinding your hips to relieve the ache that had begun growing at your core.

“Marc…”

You woke up with a start and almost sprang out of your empty bed. You looked around, confused, your mind still deep in that little dream you had about Marc Spector. You let yourself fall back down with a thump onto your pillow as your head overflowed with thoughts of Marc. You closed your eyes and you swore you could feel him there with you and you clung to the imaginary feeling of his soft lips and hard hands on your hot skin.

It didn’t take long for the thoughts to jumble into messy waves as you incoherently slipped your hand under the waistband of your sleep shorts.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marc’s POV

All Marc could see was you. Your beautiful deep brown skin, the feeling of your gentle touch against him, the far away sparkle in your eye. You both were in Steven’s flat in a jumble of limbs and Marc couldn’t believe his luck.

“Finally.” He thought as he pulled your leg over his own hips.

Your mouth dropped open and he heard his name being uttered in the most sinful way possible as he continued his careful and calculated ministrations on you. To his awful luck, the second he heard his name, he found himself being rudely awoken by a loud cackle.

Marc’s mercenary instincts kicked in and he flung himself off his bed, landing ungracefully onto his face as his ankle was still tied tightly to his bed post. He stayed on the floor, utterly defeated as he heard gleeful laughter come from his head mates and the ancient moon god.

“Never in all of my existence have I had this much of a laugh.” Khonshu boomed and Marc looked up just in time to see him dabbing tears off his bird skull.

Jake and Steven were still rolling around with uncontrollable fits of laughter, clinging to each other in the head space as they watched their alter angrily pull the restraints of his leg.

Marc rubbed his nose that had unfortunately taken the brunt of his fall and he padded slowly back to his bed, slouching like a small beaten up puppy. He looked out the window to see that the sky was still dark and the beautiful full moon was out, dancing with the stars in the sky.

“What the fuck were you guys up to?” He yelled over their laughter.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, my knight. I may have just sent her the same dream.” Khonshu chuckled, his blank eyes falling to the prominent tent in Marc’s sweatpants.

“I directed the little dream, of course.” Jake smirked.

“The restraints were my idea!” Steven piped up.

Marc groaned and fell back onto his bed, his nose slowly healing with Khonshu’s powers. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as Khonshu’s voice rang in his head, more coherently this time.

I may have just sent her the same dream.

“YOU SENT HER THE SAME DREAM?”

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marc thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his car, waiting for the traffic light to turn green. He was on his way to your house to apologize. To tell you that he didn’t mean to freeze yesterday at Gina’s intrusion, that he really wanted to call you, to continue to tell you how he felt, and finally to explain to you why it took him so long to come to his senses and admit his feelings for you.

Why didn’t he just go last night? Why did he decide to leave the matter at hand to be dealt with at a more civilized hour? He wanted to be a gentleman for once. You are poise, grace and beauty, just like a queen, energy he definitely wasn’t used to receiving. He was a knight, a knight that served his country and then a powerful moon god to the point that it almost cost him everything. He was violent, merciless, ruthless and every cell in his body screamed at him, telling him that he didn’t deserve you.

Marc looped his finger around the tiny ring that hung on his chain. His mind flashed to all the times he was close to death, or close to being captured by the enemy, how he would clutch the ring with such vigor, clinging to the very last lifeline that kept him from losing everything. He would hold that once piece of you almost like a promise, a promise that everything would be alright in the end.

For the fifth time in the morning he looked in the rear view mirror of his car to ask for reassurance from his alters. Steven and Jake had quietened down and were now smiling gently and making sure that Marc was comfortable with the next direction he was going to take with you.

A generous bouquet of Casa Blanca Lilies sat on the seat beside him, its fragrance dancing through his car, a little peace offering that was suggested and sponsored by Jake.

Marc was rudely pulled out of his thoughts by the crude ringing of his phone. He cringed at the sound but immediately went into survival mood when his eyes read the caller id. His fingered fumbled as he shakily answered your call.

“Marc… Marc please.” your strained moans floated out of the speaker, constricting Marc’s lungs before he could even try to utter a greeting.

For a few seconds, all Marc could see was white. Dizzily, he realized that all the blood in his body rushed south. The only thing he could pick up on perfectly was your whines, moans and please. He glanced up to the rear view mirror to see a shocked Jake and Steven staring back with their mouths hanging open.

All thoughts of being a gentleman flew out of the proverbial window as Marc hastily ended the call and gripped onto the steering wheel. It was finally time for him to take matters into his own hands and break the ice that had been forming.

Your POV

You were jolted up by the sound of the door bell ringing. For the second time today you had no idea where you were and you quickly slipped out of bed and swayed towards the entrance of your apartment, still drunk on the aftermath of your little escapade. Incoherently, you swung the door open only to be face to face with Marc Spector.

Your mouth dropped open in response and you scanned his form. You almost gasped at the beautiful bouquet of lilies he was holding but you managed to drag your eyes away from it just in time. He looked absolutely delectable in his black shirt and slacks but what intrigued you was that his eyes were a shade darker than usual, with a hint of emotion that you could not read. They bored into yours as if he was reading your mind and you felt your face heat up.

“Spector! I wasn’t expecting you.” you exclaimed, briskly trying to flatten your bird's nest esque hair and pulling your top so that it was covering your mid section.

Marc raised an eyebrow at you as you quickly made space for him to step in. You watched on with a dazed expression on your face as he made himself comfortable on the couch, dropping the bouquet of flowers he was holding beside him. All this while, he stayed silent and his eyes never left your for a second. He tipped his head towards the empty end of the couch and you soon found yourself sitting at the edge with your hands in your lap.

“Want a drink?” you asked quietly.

“Just dropped by to ask a tricky little question.” he shook his head and finally said, his voice as cool and metallic as the dream you had. “Hope I was not interrupting anything.”

You managed to summon the willpower to not drool like a saint bernard on crack as you tried to form words in your head.

“N-not at all.” you were embarrassed with how small your voice sounded and you averted your eyes from his harsh eye contact.

Marc cleared his throat, spreading his knees apart and leaning back onto the couch, as he eyes you, his face still void of any emotion. You swear you could feel yourself melt under the power of his gaze.

“Just to be clear, we’re just…”

“Friends.” you automatically whispered, your eyes widening with your false statement.

“Yea?” Marc questioned, his lip twitching with a ghost of a smirk etched upon it. “Come on, sit closer to me, I won’t bite.” he continued, dragging his large palm across the empty space beside him.

Won’t bite yet by the looks of it.

You shook your head to get rid of the filthy thought and scooted closer to Marc. To your utter astonishment, you suddenly felt Marc’s strong grip around your waist and you were hoisted into his lap. You felt like a doll in his arms, you didn’t know what else to do but to cling onto his shirt. He adjusted you around him, letting your legs fall to his side as the plump of your ass sat perfectly on his vast thighs.

You were breathing heavily and you realized that you had your eyes squeezed tightly shut. You wrenched them open and searched Marc’s face, not believing that you had the chance to observe it from such a close proximity. You tried your best to drink up every single detail as you resisted the urge to kiss every single curve and dimple on his god-like face.

Just like in your dream, Marc leaned into you and nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, making your breath hitch. One of his hands smoothed up your back and cradled the back of your neck while the other gripped tightly on your hip, thumb rubbing small inconsistent circles right above the band of your shorts.

“If we’re just friends, then what were you up to just now, my lying angel?”

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