#let the wilderness guide you

[kittycrumb]

what is this girl doing 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ i hope she doesn’t start speaking french next

[d1stalker]

A Peaceful Repose [Logan Howlett]

Summary: After some time away on a mission, Logan comes home, and all he wants to do is be around you

Warnings: clingy logan, showering together, sooo much fluff WC: 1.6k - MASTERLIST

----

The door of your apartment slowly creaks open, followed by the sound of a familiar, heavy tread against the wooden floor. Your heart skips a beat, in both relief and excitement—Logan’s back. 

But as he steps into the room, the sight of him makes you pause. He looks every bit as exhausted as you imagined, but it’s more than that. His clothes are torn and stained with dirt and dried blood, and a faint, musty smell of sweat and grime clings to him. His normally fierce gaze is dulled with fatigue, and the well-kept scruff on his face has grown wilder, more unkempt.

Your nose wrinkles slightly as you take in the full picture. “Logan…” you start, hesitating as he drops his bag on the floor with a loud thud. He catches your expression, and despite everything, he smirks, though it’s softer than usual, his eyes gleaming as they meet yours.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly and rough, but filled with a warmth that makes your heart swell.

“I missed you too,” you reply, stepping forward to close the distance between you. He reaches out, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close despite the state he’s in. The embrace is tight, almost desperate, and you feel the stiffness in his muscles, the way his body seems to sag against yours, as if holding you is the only thing keeping him upright. And as much as you want to melt into him, as much as you want to rest your head on his shoulder and breathe in his scent, the feel of the grit against your skin pulls you back.

“Logan, you need a shower.” Your voice gently chides as you lean back to look up at him, your hands smoothing over his chest before you brush a lock of hair away from his forehead, your fingers grazing the sweat-dampened strands.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest as he holds you, the warmth of his breath fanning across your cheek. “I just wanna hold you,” he grumbles, his face nuzzling into your hair.

You tilt your head back a bit, giving him a fond, but pointed look. “Not like this, you don’t,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek before wrinkling your nose again. “Seriously, babe, you stink.”

His mouth quirks into a tired, yet genuine smile, a rare sight that always makes your heart flutter. “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he mutters, his eyes softening as he looks down at you.

“Go on,” you urge, giving him a gentle nudge toward the washroom. 

But Logan doesn’t move right away. Instead, he gives you a look, one that’s almost boyish in its vulnerability. “Can you come with me?” he asks, almost begging. “I’ve missed you… a lot.”

The sincerity in his tone, the way his eyes seem to plead with you, makes it impossible to refuse. You sigh, pretending to be more exasperated than you are, but the truth is, you’ve missed him just as much. “Alright, alright,” you relent, rolling your eyes playfully. “We’ll get cleaned up.”

A hint of relief washes over his features as he takes your hand, his rough fingers intertwining with yours as you lead him toward the bathroom. Once inside, you turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature until the steam begins to rise around you.

You turn to face him, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palms. “Let’s get you out of these clothes,” you say softly, reaching for the hem of his shirt. 

His hands cover yours, guiding them as he helps you pull the fabric over his head, his gaze never leaving your face. You can’t help but notice the remnants of bruises and cuts scattered across his body, and your heart aches to see him like this, knowing the toll the mission must have taken on him.

When he’s finally undressed, you shed your clothes quickly and step into the shower. Logan wraps his arms around your waist as he presses his forehead against yours, eyes closing as he takes in the moment.

The warm water cascades over both of you, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, each breath syncing with your own. There’s a stillness between you, a moment suspended in time where nothing else exists but the two of you.

“God, I missed this,” he murmurs affectionately, gazing down at you with a quiet longing. 

“Me too,” you echo your voice barely above a whisper as if speaking too loudly might break the fragile intimacy of the moment. You reach for the soap, lathering it between your hands, the bubbles forming quickly as the scent of fresh citrus fills the air.

Logan watches you with an almost reverent expression as you begin to work the soap across his chest, your fingers tracing the hard lines of his muscles. His skin, though scarred and battered, is warm beneath your touch, the tension slowly melting away under the soothing rhythm of your hands.

He lets out a low, contented hum as you wash him, his eyes slipping closed as he leans into your touch. “That feels good,” he breathes, the words rumbling through his chest. 

You smile quietly, taking your time as you work your way across his torso, roaming every inch of him. When you reach his shoulders, you pause, stepping a little closer so you can run your hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, your fingers gently massaging his scalp.

The sound he lets out is almost a groan, and you can feel his body relax even further as your fingers work through the tangles in his hair. You can’t help but lean in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s a lazy, unhurried gesture, one that speaks of comfort, and Logan responds immediately, turning his head slightly to capture your lips.

The kiss is slow, achingly slow, devoid of the usual urgency or passion, but instead filled with something deeper—love, trust, and a profound sense of belonging. His lips are warm and soft against yours, and you find yourself sighing at the familiar taste of him.

When you finally pull back, your breath mingles with his, and he opens his eyes to meet yours. He doesn’t say anything, but his hands slide from your waist up to your back, pulling you so close into his orbit that there’s no space left between you. He holds you like this, his chin resting on the top of your head as the water continues to pour over both of you. It’s not about desire, but rather a need to feel you close, to reassure himself that you’re here, safe and sound in his arms.

You continue to wash him, your hands moving slowly and gently over his body, lathering his hair with care as the water rinses away the grime of the mission. Every so often, Logan presses a soft kiss to your forehead or the top of your head, small gestures of affection that make your heart ache with how much you love him.

As you wash the soap from his hair, you reach up to run your fingers through it one last time, making sure it’s clean. You notice his eyes are half-closed as his head begins to droop down toward your shoulder.

“You’re going to fall asleep standing up,” you tease gently, running your hands down his chest before stepping back to grab the showerhead, directing the water over his shoulders and back.

“Can’t help it,” he murmurs thickly with drowsiness. “You’ve got magic hands.”

After you’ve both rinsed off, you turn off the shower and reach for a towel, wrapping it around yourself before grabbing one for Logan. He takes it from you with a small, grateful smile, quickly drying off before he wraps the towel around his waist. But before you can do the same, he brings you into his arms again, his damp skin cool against yours as he holds you close.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft as he leads you towards the bed. He pulls back the covers, and the two of you climb in, still damp from the shower. Logan pulls you close, his strong arms encircling you as he pushes his face into the crook of your neck.

The scent of fresh soap and clean skin fills the air, and you can feel the last bits of tension leaving his body as he settles into the bed, his breathing evening out as the warmth of your embrace soothes him.

“You’re warm,” he mumbles.

“So are you,” you respond, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Your fingers trace soothing circles on his back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

Logan hums in satisfaction, his arms tightening around you as he presses closer. 

“You’re my everything,” he whispers.

You turn in his arms so you can face him, your hand resting against his chest. “And you’re mine,” you whisper back, your thumb brushing over his heart in a slow, soothing motion. 

In the quiet of the room, the only sound is the steady rhythm of Logan’s breathing and the faint thump of his heartbeat beneath your hand. You feel completely safe, completely loved, wrapped up in his arms, and you know that he feels the same. 

Drifting off to sleep, the last thing you hear is his voice, low and filled with affection. “Don’t ever leave me,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“Never,” you assure. “I’ll always be here.”

Logan lets out a deep, contented sigh, pressing a final kiss to your temple. And as the warmth of his embrace lulls you into sleep, you can’t help but think about how you were always meant to be here, by his side.

----

[highdefhoetry]

stroke game.

cw: nsfw!! penetration (penis in vagina), premature ejaculation, raw dogging/unprotected sex, creampies, zayne and xavier on top/rafayel on bottom

zayne takes his time with you. after waiting this long, he wants to savor what it feels like to be inside you. his strokes are slow and deep, and when he's all the way in, he grabs your hips to pull you even closer, drinking up the sweet sounds of your fluttered moans. he grunts softly, purposefully smothering his own noises so he can hear you more clearly. your pleasure is his first priority, and he wants confirmation that he's doing this right. it takes a while for him to finish, and that's on purpose; he needs to ensure you cum first. it's the gentlemanly thing to do. and when he finally does, even his cum takes its time pumping into you. you can feel the little throbs and pulses as he empties himself in you, even as he pulls out. then he kisses you on the cheek, and reminds you of how beautiful you are before laying down beside you.

xavier can't help himself. as soon as he feels your tight walls clench around his dick, his hands are grasping your hips, keeping them in place while he makes quick, rapid thrusts. he's going so fast it's making you see stars; visions of galaxies explode in your vision as he goes deeper, faster, wilder. his soft moans harmonize with your cries of pleasure. sweat drips from his forehead onto yours. his skin is flushed and damp. his beautiful blue eyes are full of pleasure and gazing down at you with such tenderness it almost makes you cry. he gets louder the longer it goes on, keeping up the steady rhythm until he hears you reach your climax. with one last push, you cum together, grasping hair and skin and whatever else you can grab onto. the timing was just right. he leans down to kiss you and lingers on your lips for a while before collapsing down next to you, snuggling up close as he catches his breath.

rafayel tries to keep himself together when you climb on top and guide his stiff cock into your hole, but the moment he's inside, he erupts in pleasure. fluttered, airy moans fall from his lips as you're filled with warmth. as his cum leaks out of your hole, he whispers frantic little "sorry"s in between airy sighs. the sight of his reddened cheeks and damp skin is so cute you can't bear to be upset with him. you kiss him on the forehead and drift down his face until your lips graze his sensitive neck. and when he's finally caught his breath, you let your words dance around his ear: "just because you finished doesn't mean i'm finished with you."

[diorcities]

running your teeth over jeno's sensitive tip and watching him roll his eyes makes you feel haughty. knowing you've got him at your complete mercy, a mess of grunts and involuntary spasms as your tongue curls and tease with the slit of his cock, savoring his salty precum on your palate while his heavy, dark gaze is fixed on you. teary eyes as a plaintive moan leaves his lips when you slide his penis deeper into your warm mouth, and your tongue presses against his shaft. it feels so full you have to close your eyes, drool at the corner of my mouth that you slurp when you take it out to pepper wet kisses up and down his length, “nice job, doll.”

numb legs and body in a sedative state as haechan eats you in front of the mirror. he wants to make you see how hauntingly breathtaking you look with your teary-doe eyes and haunted features every time he makes you feel this good. lips nibbling and sucking on your folds before his tongue attacks the swollen area of your clit. teasing it around and exerting pressure that causes your body to react in a spasm and scream. humming against your cunt and making a stream of pleasure run through you as he fiddles with the entrance, “eyes in the mirror, honey. you don't want to miss a bit.” fingers enter the scene when he pushes them inside your needy pussy.

hearing chenle's cocky laugh when you go nonverbal. mouth letting out breathy sounds and choked moans as he hits your sweet spot over and over again. pelvis hammering you into you, rocking his dick in and out with hard thrusts. beads of sweat forming on his chest pale from the effort he's been making for the last hour, prolonging the moment to nut and fucking you mercilessly, head in subspace by how good he's riling you, the painful knot of your belly growing and loosening every time you cum and squirt all over his cock. “fuuck, that's so hot, angel.”

messy make out with jisung as he buries his cock in your abused pussy. steady pace driving you crazy and clawing at the taut skin of his shoulder blades. choking out a hiss in your throat while he pounds you with mighty thrusts on the countertop of a nightclub bathroom after you grind on him and his growing bulge from the way you were dancing. “fuck, baby, fuck, i'm cuming.” ruined and wrinkled clothes, underwear thrown to the side because he needs you and your tight pussy. so eager and excited his pants are halfway down and your lipstick is now all smudged over his mouth.

stripping you of sleep by jaemin's cock sliding inside you in the middle of the night. arms holding you close to his chest as he inserts himself into you with smooth, fluid strokes. arching closer to him to go deeper, eyes rolling back and mouth spilling hoarse grunts when he speeds up. chest pressed hard against the mattress as he holds on to the headboard and his thrusts become wilder, mind in pure bliss. “does it feel good? fuck it does.” turned into a rag doll, forced down as he fucks you dumb, feeling the sedative and numb effect run through your entire body.

riding mark on the dining table. hands gripping the table in front of you hearing him sound so affected as you bob over his dick. squelching sounds coming from the motion followed by your moans and pants from getting tired. hands quickly going to assist you and pronouncing the thrusts more. harder and frenetic. whines and sobs forming in your throat because it's too much to handle, his movements becoming more eager and desperate, groping your waist as he let out a guttural growl, “you're doing so great, baby. keep up.”

dry humping with renjun, feeling his bulge grow as you rock your clothed pussy over him. the hardness of his erection pressing against your wet folds, soaking his underwear with your arousal, hands going down his length to run your nails up and down, making him moan loudly. “need to fuck you, yn, please.” thrusting his hips at you when he gets needy to put his dick inside your warm walls. both releasing a pleasurable exhale as he guides his tip inside with ease, digits going to your clit as you shove it completely in and start to ride him.

[charliemwrites]

Good morning! This is just a warm up, not canon to the series.

Anyway — bark, woof, awoo

It’s a cool fall day when you nearly die.

Johnny’s run off into the woods barking - not his scary bark but his excited bark. You’re worried that he’s gonna get his teeth in some poor local wildlife and go hurrying after him, boots unlaced.

Of course it’s hopeless to go chasing after a wolf-dog even running at half speed, but you can’t stand the thought of him coming home with a dead bunny or something. So off you go, clomping through the trees, calling for your big dumb fluffy butt to come home.

But it’s not your Johnny that comes trotting out of the trees. No, it’s an even bigger, wolfier looking dog. Creamy white fur, honey gold eyes, and odd black markings around the face like a skull. You instantly know he’s not like your goofball, a little less human-friendly, perhaps more feral. Looks at you like he’s trying to decide if you’d make a decent meal.

Is someone breeding them and just.., letting them out?? Some weird poorly thought out attempt to reintroduce wolves to the UK? The thought makes you frown, praying that you won’t come out here one day to find some poor pups struggling in the wilderness.

For now though, you’ve got yet another gorgeous animal in front of you.

“Well, hello,” you coo, softening and smoothing your voice. His ears tick forward. “Look at you, handsome thing. Have you seen my Johnny boy?”

The dog tilts his head - your first indication that he is familiar with humans, recognizes the tone of a question. You hum.

“Alright big guy, would you like to come with me to find him or are you doing your own thing?”

He doesn’t respond (of course) except to make a little “ruff” noise. You consider him for another moment, then decide he’s not being aggressive and it’s safe to continue your search.

You turn and continue on the path, calling for Johnny. Don’t get far before your new friend sweeps in front of you, blocking the way forward. You make a noise as you stop quick, nearly losing your balance to avoid stepping on his paws.

“Oh you big jerk,” you huff. He instantly starts pushing at you, big shoulders pressing against your stomach as he shoves a big, wet nose into your neck and face, focusing on your mouth. You roll your eyes and gently push his nose away.

“Knock it off,” you grumble, trying not to laugh. “You wolves are so rude. You don’t need to do that to smell me.”

He moves on to your clothes, all the way down to your crotch. You’re ready this time though, taking a big step back and guiding his face up by the chin.

“No.”

He snorts and shakes off, looking almost annoyed.

“Oh, yeah, how dare I not let you sniff my junk?” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Grow up, you big baby.”

A deep, raspy grumble starts up in his chest. You ignore him, patting at the thick muscle of his shoulder.

“Yeah yeah, you’re a big scary boy,” you joke. “Ya gonna bite me? Show me your big pretty teeth?”

When you reach for his face he takes a step back, ears flicking. Looks almost shellshocked. You finally break, giggling as you croon baby noises at him.

“Oh, poor boy, did I spook you? I’m sorry, baby. No, no you’re very scary. Very intimidating.” You start scooting around him, amused how curves around you almost like he’s afraid you’re going to touch him. “It’s okay, buddy, I just need to find my boy. I’m not out to get you.”

As if on cue, Johnny comes bursting from the trees. He barks when he sees you, then almost comes up short when he realizes the other dog is there.

You become acutely aware that you’re not all too sure how Johnny will respond to another dog - especially one so close to you given his protectiveness. You instantly move between them, calling his attention.

“There you are, Bonnie Johnny! Where have you been?! Naughty boy, you better not have eaten anything fluffy.” His ears go back, a little whine starting up. He ducks his head to let you grab at his muzzle, inspecting him for anything gross. “I do not feel like wrangling you to brush your teeth.”

Luckily, he seems clean. Whatever had him so excited, he must not have caught.

Movement behind you catches your attention, the other dog loping closer. Your eyes bounce between them, watching body language for any aggression or hostility. To your relief, Johnny seems almost excited by this new friend - the other one… well, he seems a bit more subdued, but lets Johnny lick at his chin and bump into his side.

“Okay, ready to head home, baby boy?” you ask, giving Johnny’s collar a gentle tug. “I have to start making dinner.”

He whines, turning those big blue eyes on you and positioning himself behind the other dog. You groan.

“Johnny, really… I don’t know if I can handle two of you. I don’t even think he likes me very much.”

As if to spite you, the other dog sits and leans in, licking at your hand. And damn it, it’s cute.

“Alright, hold on, let’s just see if…”

This time, the other dog lets you touch, feels around his neck for a collar that unsurprisingly isn’t there. You feel around his shoulders too, hoping for that tiny bump that means he has a microchip, but nope.

“If I have a nickel for every time I found a wolf-dog in the woods…” you sigh, turning back for home. “It would be two nickels but it’s weird that it happened twice.”

When you notice both pups stalling, you whistle sharply.

“Come. It’s getting cold.”

Johnny instantly bounds ahead with excitement while your new companion is slightly slower, staying just a bit behind and to the side of you so that you can see him from the corner of your eye.

Back at home, Johnny leads the way inside. The strange dog looks around curiously, sniffs at a few spots. It’s then that you remember Johnny marking the house his first couple days and notice that Mystery Dog is also unaltered.

“Hey.” Both dogs turn to you. You point at the new one sternly. “If you pee on anything in here - anything - I’m dying you pink. By god I’ll do it, there are dog safe hair dyes.”

You get a sneeze for that and he walks away with disinterest, but at least he keeps his leg down. You’ll take it.

Dinner is interesting, no fussing or fighting over food from either of them. When they’re done, you retire to the couch, Johnny happy to follow up until he sees that his new friend isn’t coming as well.

He starts yipping, bouncing, bowing, trying to get the new one to follow. You’re amused up until Johnny nips and the bigger dog growls, showing teeth. You plant yourself instantly between them.

“Hey.” You look the new dog in the eye, get into his space and back him away from Johnny. “No the hell you’re not.”

The new dog stares, eyes locked on yours, ears swiveling. You don’t back down, watching and looking waiting, still bodily between him and Johnny. Until finally his ears go back and he sneezes, laying down.

“Good.” You soften your voice, sigh. “Good boy.”

You offer your hand. Get a sniff and a resigned lick, then scratch at your new boy’s ears.

“You be nice, big boy. Everyone in this house is mine. I take care of everyone.”

His eyes do a weird thing then. You’re not sure how to describe it, combined with the way his head tilts. But you just chalk it up to Weird Dog Things and finally return to the couch, an oddly subdued Johnny clambering up with you.

“You can join us, honey,” you call to the other dog. “You’re welcome up here if you behave.”

He doesn’t take you up on it for awhile. You and Johnny settle in for your usual nightly shows. And then, about an hour later, movement draws your eye. The Mystery Dog, standing at the edge of the couch with his tail down, ears neutral.

Earlier drama forgotten, you smile at him.

“Hi there,” you chirp, “you want up? C’mon, bud. Up.”

He hops up with surprisingly gentleness, picking his way around your limbs and Johnny’s. He ends up crawling over your dog and settling half on top of him, and half on top of you, his chin settled between Johnny’s stupid perky ears. Johnny seems thrilled so you laugh a bit.

“What good boys,” you coo, giving them each a scratch and receiving a kiss in return. “Alright, this isn’t so bad.”

You fall asleep there, already trying to come up with name for your new pup. Maybe Phantom.

Main Story | Konig pt. 1

Masterlist

[buckets-and-trees]

What You Want

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: lawyer!Bucky x curvy!female assistant reader Word Count: 2.7k Summary: Your boss, powerful lawyer Bucky Barnes, insisted he needed his indispensable assistant to accompany him on his trip to Norway. He also promised he would have you home in time for Christmas, but the weather decided to strike its wrath and decimate international travel, leaving you stranded for a few more days.

Content Warnings: modern AU, slight power dynamic, periphery/secular reference to the Christmas holiday, vaginal fingering, use of "plum" as a term of endearment

Logistical Notes: Written for @sstan-hoe Vee's Holly Jolly Challenge - I was given a selection of prompts including "That noise...keep making it," reindeer, and lawyer/assistant power dynamics. Also my December entry for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo using the FLASHBACKS prompt. Divider by @saradika.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You heard the door open and close behind you and then familiar footsteps approaching, but you didn’t turn to look, instead keeping your eyes on the beauty of the frozen wilderness on display before you.

“Peace offering?” Bucky spoke as he stepped up beside you at the rail of the balcony, holding one of two steaming mugs in his hands toward you.

You sighed but gave him a small smile and took the mug. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re a very powerful man, Bucky, but I’m relatively sure you don’t control the weather.”

“Not yet, but I’m trying to pull some strings,” he said with a smirk, and you smiled.

“It’s not your fault we can’t get a flight back to the States when a blizzard has taken out half the Eastern Seaboard.”

It was unlikely that even with all of James Buchanan Barnes’ considerable lawyering power and money that he would be able to get you back home before Christmas. The main international airports in New England would have to live through the record raging blizzard, dig out, and then there would be hundreds of thousands of passengers to accommodate in and out of the country. Reasonably your guess was that you wouldn’t be returning until as early as the day after Christmas at the earliest.

“I should still apologize though. I said I would have you home for Christmas.”

You took a sip of the hot coffee. “You should apologize, but you’re not.”

He smiled. “No, I’m not.”

He turned and looked out over the forest and frozen tundra with you, the snow sparkling by the moonlight. This side of the resort hotel Bucky had booked the two of you into looked out over the wilderness.

“How long are you going to stay out here?”

“Until I see a reindeer. You brought me to Norway in December. I want to see a wild reindeer.”

“Fair enough.”

After a few more minutes, Bucky spoke again. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat, though? They said our accommodations should be ready after dinner.”

It had been a bit of a feat to find any place this close to Christmas that wasn’t closed or completely booked, but Bucky had managed to find this place that although they said they didn’t have a place immediately available, they had late check outs that just needed to be cleaned and refreshed for new guests.

“It’s a very fine restaurant.”

“Alright, let’s go eat.”

“If that will be all for the evening, I’ll be happy to escort you to your suite, Mr. Barnes,” the maître d’ said. He had been attentive all evening, but being with Bucky on this business trip you had quickly learned only the most excellent service was a common thing for him.

“Yes, thank you, I think we’re finished,” Bucky replied, looking to you, and you nodded. You both scooted your chairs back from the table and then followed the man out of the restaurant, through the hotel lobby, past the bar, past the observatory lounge and balcony you’d visited earlier, and to a pair of elevators.

Dinner had been quiet, but not an uneasy quiet by any means for the two of you. Bucky was an intimidating man, power emanating from him very naturally, but after the first few weeks as his assistant, you had gotten over your nerves. After sitting with him through many lunches, plenty of meetings, taking notes from him on cases and projects, and a fair few late nights, you had grown comfortable around him, learned that he could be easy to talk to, but didn’t strive to fill a silence for conversation’s sake, something you appreciated.

The hotel Bucky had found was an upscale, moderately sized wilderness and ski lodge. When you arrived on the fifth and top floor, there was a cozy hallway that only boasted three doors, and you were led to the one at the very end, where the man unlocked the door, stepped in to hold it open, and then handed the key to Bucky.

“If you should need anything at all, simply pick up the phone and our staff will assist you,” he said. “Have a good evening, and we hope you enjoy your stay, even though we know it was unexpected for the holiday.”

“Thank you, dinner was fantastic, and the place looks wonderful, you’ve been great, Lucas. Have a good night,” Bucky said, and pressed what you were sure was a generous tip into the man’s hand.

All your and Bucky’s things had been left neatly to one side of the entry of the suite. A quick look around revealed that there were two rooms off either side of the spacious sitting area as well as a small kitchen and bar, and on the far side full floor to ceiling windows and a balcony. You had hoped for two rooms like you’d had at the previous hotel, but two rooms in a suite would be perfectly fine, especially since the stunning view out of the sitting room’s windows wasn’t the only beauty in the place. There was a fireplace with a gorgeous mantle with a roaring fire already ablaze and a stunning Christmas tree with gorgeous trimmings in the Scandinavian style.

“It’ll do, yes?” Bucky asked, watching you take in the beauty of the tree.

You smiled warmly at him, then looked back at the tree. “Yes, it’ll do just fine.” The sitting room was spacious and rivaled your cozy studio apartment back home for size. You stepped further into the suite. “Do you want to take a look at the rooms and pick which one you want?” you asked. All the trip was on the company’s expense account, and as his assistant, although you suspected he might be a gentleman and offer you the better room, you would defer to Bucky to actually pick.

“We’ll share whichever one is better,” he said with a shrug.

You scoffed. “No, there are two rooms in this gorgeous suite, I’m sure they’re both fantastic, I don’t mind taking the one you don’t want. Might even sleep on the couch so I can stay by the tree and look out those windows all night.”

He chuckled, low, and suddenly at your back. “You misunderstand me, plum,” he said, placing his hands on the curve of your hips and pressing his chest up against your back. He leaned in to speak the next words directly in your ear. “I’m having you in my bed tonight.”

Your breath caught.

You couldn’t move, and a soft, “Mr. Barnes,” was all you could say.

“Aw, none of that, plum, you haven’t called me Mr. Barnes for months, and I won’t it happening again now.”

“We shouldn’t,” you tried to protest, but even as you said the words, a traitorous part of you didn’t put much feeling behind them.

“Shouldn’t we? You’re smart enough to know I didn’t really need to bring you on this trip with me, but I wanted to. Didn’t want to go that long without seeing you, wanted you by my side in a charming Nordic country during the height of its festive season, and you said yes, like the perfect assistant that you are. I told myself that was enough, didn’t go knocking on your door any of the nights we were at our first hotel, kept it professional despite wanting more and more of you every day we spent together away from the office.”

His hand moved from your hips to circle around your front, his left moving over your soft stomach over to the other side to rest over the front of your right hip, and his right further up your torso, his hand brushing the underside of your breast and resting firmly just below it, bringing you flush against him.

“Fate won’t let me get you home for Christmas, so why deny what it’s dangling right in front of me now?”

He pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, and a small whimper escaped your throat.

“Let me have what I want,” he murmured, leaving a slow trail of more kisses down your neck. “I know you want it, too.”

“I – no, I don’t – I”

It was impossible to put up the words of protest when he licked the shell of your ear. You shivered in his arms instead.

“Let me ruin my perfect girl,” he pressed, slipping the hand that was at your hip into the waistband of your trousers. His hand stopped when his fingers met the lace edge of your panties. He turned you around abruptly and kissed you full on the mouth, cupping your face with both hands so you had no choice but to take the heat of his kiss, and the flame he’d been sparking started to catch more dangerously in your core.

He had somehow maneuvered you further into the sitting room so that when he suddenly broke off the kiss, you were in the middle of the space, the warm glow of the fire and the tree lights casting over you both.

Bucky stepped back, and you frowned in confusion, still breathless. He trailed a finger up the column of your throat to the tip of your chin, his blue eyes dark and hungry. “Undress,” he said.

He moved to the couch and sat, his eyes returning to you as he settled in.

“Undress,” he repeated.

That commanding tone struck another spark right to your cunt. You knew you were already growing wet for him.

You toed off your shoes one at a time, then took off your socks – those requiring you to move a little less elegantly than you wanted with his searing gaze on you. Standing aright again, your hands moved to the button of your trousers, fingers trembling since you had never stripped in front of anyone before. You weren’t a virgin, but although the partners you had been with before had been eager to have you naked, none had ever asked you to undress for them like this, like they wanted to see your full figure, not just fuck it.

Bucky spoke your name in a way that had you pause and look up at him again.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You know I pride myself on my instincts. I think we both want this, but there are two rooms here.”

You bit your lip.

He was offering the veiled choice if you wanted it.

Your mind raced with flashbacks of conversations and thoughts you’d had over the past few weeks clear back to the first few meetings with your boss.

Insisting to your mother that your boss did absolutely need you to fly with him to Norway to assist him with meetings with an international client the week before Christmas.

Your best friend insisting on a shopping trip for your fancy work trip to a foreign country “because if your hot boss isn’t going to seduce you, have a foreign fling!”

Your heart stuttering the first time your eyes met your boss’s deep blues the day you interviewed with him.

The same eyes that were riveted on you now.

On you.

You unbuttoned your trousers and lowered the zipper. You glanced down as the fell to the floor, then stepped carefully out of them. When you looked back up, you saw even more hunger in Bucky’s eyes, and it warmed your blood. Looking right into those eyes, you reached for the hem of your sweater and lifted it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor as well.

“Mmm,” he hummed in approval. “C’m’ere,” he beckoned, sitting back on the couch again, but beckoning you into his lap as he watched your every move.

You concentrated on his eyes and on keeping your breathing steady. When you were close enough for him to reach for you, he held out his hand. You took it and let him pull you gently down to straddle your legs on either side of his.

“My perfect plum,” he murmured. His hands moved up your thighs, over your hips, up your waist, and back down.

“Your plum?” you asked, watching his face as his eyes roved over you up close.

“My perfect plum - I want to savor every delicious curve of your body,” he said before dropping a kiss to the top of your breast. Your hands went to his shoulders to steady yourself. “When I felt that lace of your underwear, I thought maybe you did want this, too.” His lips moved to the other breast where he kissed the exposed skin, then traced his tongue along the edge of the lacy cup, causing you to shiver. “There isn’t any other reason you would be wearing such pretty lingerie, is there?”

“No,” you admitted immediately.

“Just for me,” he said as he moved his hand to your mound and immediately slipped a finger beneath the fabric to stroke along your folds, making you gasp. “Good girl, already wet for me.”

You keened as his finger traced your warm hole but didn’t go in, instead taking the slick there and pressing it up over your folds. He continued tracing them up and down before moving up to find your clit, knowing he found it the second your head dropped back, and you let a, “Yes,” tumble from your lips. “More.”

His other hand skimmed up from your hip, up your side, to your neck, and then angled your head back down for another kiss. Your lips met his eagerly, mouths parting, you licked into his mouth, and he growled his approval. He moved his finger from your clit, but your whine was brief as he slipped that finger along with a second straight into your cunt, stroking in and out, over and over again. You canted your hips into his hand, and you felt the rumble of a chuckle in his chest, but he didn’t stop kissing you. Instead, he curled his fingers forward with each stroke, quickly finding the spongy spot that made you tremble and moan.

Breathless, it was you who had to break off the kiss first, but you pressed your forehead to his. “Feel good, plum?” he asked, and you registered that he sounded as earnest as you felt, his voice deep and a little breathless, too.

“Yes, sir,” you gasped.

“Mmm, sir? I like that,” he said, and rewarded you by moving his thumb to start circling your clit.

You moaned openly.

“That noise…keep making it.”

He sped up his motions just slightly, seeming to feel how your body was tensing up, building toward a powerful release.

“Ready to cum for me like a good girl?”

“Yes, sir!” your answer was more like a plea. “So close.”

Keeping up the rhythm on your clit, he applied more pressure with each thrust of his fingers up inside of you, hitting that sensitive spot on the front of your walls, and with just a few more strokes, the wave crested and rolled over you.

“That’s it, plum,” he cooed as you trembled above him, his other hand coming to smooth unhurriedly up and down your back as his fingers continued to stroke your channel, slowly extending your orgasm. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

He removed his fingers and brought them up to your mouth. You sucked them in, laving your tongue over them. “Can’t wait to see you come for me again,” he said. And too impatient for you to lick his fingers clean, he withdrew them and crashed his lips back into yours.

“Earlier tonight when I said I should apologize, and you called me right out for not doing any such thing?”

“Yes?”

“This is why I didn’t apologize. I was in no way sorry that I had more time with you, and I’m going to use it to take you apart and put you back together all night.”

You would think about all of this later. But he emptied your head of anything but him and the pleasure between you, making more than good on his promise to take you apart until you were completely spent and ruined in his bed.

READ THE SEQUEL: NOW THAT I SAW YOU

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[r3starttt]

KISS ME

PAIRING: Jackson! ellie x reader

CW: request. outbreak | tlou universe.

SUMMARY: Ellie takes care of you after patrol.

DON'T BUY TLOU | PALESTINE MP PALESTINE LINKS | DAILY CLICK

TAGLIST | - ellie taglist: @ilovetaylorrr @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages

The night sky stretches above you, a deep canvas of blue-black, with only a few stubborn stars daring to puncture its vastness. The moon, however, shone with an almost ethereal glow, casting a silvery light that softened the edges of the night. It illuminated your path home. Yet, its light did little to ease the weariness clinging to your body. Every muscle ached, each movement sending a fresh wave of pain through your tired limbs.

The ground beneath your feet felt distant, as if you were walking on shattered glass, each step a jagged reminder of the day’s relentless toll. It felt as though the very bones in your feet might shatter with the weight of the exhaustion that clung to you, heavy and unyielding.

From the moment you left the safety of yours and Ellie's shared walls, it was a relentless march through the wilderness, every mile weighing down on you like a stone.

The hours went by in a haze of heat and sweat, the sun’s unforgiving rays beating down on you until you felt as though your very essence was melting away. The memory of that heat still lingered, a phantom pain that sapped what little strength you had left.

Your legs had carried you far beyond what should have been your limit. Every patrol was a test, pushing you to the edge, but it was always the final stretch—the steps that brought you back home—that hurt the most. The pain of a long day wasn’t truly felt until you stood on the threshold of safety, when the body, sensing the nearness of rest, began to unravel, finally allowed to release.

The night was quiet, the crickets were quieter tonight, their usual chorus subdued, as if they, too, were tired. Instead, the usual symphony had been replaced by the distant air, a murmur of voices- the sound of the town coming alive in the evening.

People greeted the returning patrols, their voices carrying a mix of relief and fatigue, like echoes of a world that still held onto some semblance of normalcy. Your own group had been particularly weary tonight, the day’s struggles etched into the lines of their faces as they shared tired smiles and half-hearted jokes. Last voices you heard were tinged with exhaustion, drifted to you, words that blended together in a chorus of shared fatigue.

But the sounds of the night could not drown out the ghosts that clung to your mind—the groans and cries of the infected, the hollow echoes of what once were human beings. Their twisted forms a grim reminder of what awaited those who let their guard down.

A smear of dried blood clung to your cheek, the crimson stark against your sweat-streaked skin. Every inch of you was covered in the grime of the day, the sun having left its mark in the form of a relentless burn that sapped your energy and left you feeling hollowed out.

The bruises and cuts scattered across your body throbbed with a dull ache, a heavy weight that seemed to settle in your stomach, twisting it into tight knots. It felt like you’d been running on empty, forcing yourself through sheer willpower, and now that you were so close to rest, the pain was finally catching up to you.

Your fingers brushed against the rough wood of Ellie’s porch door, the familiar texture grounding you for just a moment before it was pulled open. The door swung inward with surprising ease, and there she was—Ellie. The first thing you saw was her eyes, green orbs filled with worry as they drank in the sight of you. She had been waiting, her anxiety palpable in the way her fingers fidgeted nervously, tangling together as if she could knit away her fear.

Without a word, she reached for you, guiding you inside with a gentle hand on your arm. You stumbled through the doorway, the weight of your body dragging you down, but before you could even think to shrug it off, Ellie was there, the moth tattoo peeking out from beneath her sleeve as she motioned for you to turn around. Your body moved on autopilot, dragging itself to obay her command, sluggishly.

Ellie had barely waited for you to move before she was easing the heavy backpack from your shoulders, her fingers deftly undoing the straps as if they were second nature. Too enveloped in the warmth, in the soft glow of the Christmas lights adorning the room and adding to the feeling of safety that she always manages to create around you- barely registering the weight of your backpack being lifted from your shoulders.

“Hey, you okay?” Her voice was soft, a quiet melody tinged with concern, though you could only manage a nod, your throat too tight to form words. The day had stolen your voice, leaving you with nothing but the heaviness in your chest. But Ellie’s voice wrapped around you like a blanket, soothing in its familiarity.

The space enlightened in a gentle, golden hue. It felt like a safe haven, a sanctuary where the world outside could not reach you.

You stumbled toward the couch, your hands fumbling with the laces of your boots. On your ears echoed the faint rustle of fabric as Ellie hung up your—her—jacket on the hook by the door, the simple act somehow grounding you even further.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she murmured, her gaze lifting to meet yours, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. Despite the exhaustion pulling at your very soul, you found comfort in that smile, in the way she always knew how to take care of you when you couldn’t take care of yourself.

Yet the calm faded with a frustrated groan that escaped your lips as you encountered a stubborn knot, the simple task suddenly insurmountable in your current state. Ellie noticed immediately, her eyes softening with sympathy as she was already there, kneeling down in front of you, "Stop, you’re gonna make it worse,” she chided gently, her hands brushing yours aside with that lopsided smile you knew so well.

“Let me,” her whisper insisting once again, preventing you from even thinking on fighting her back. Ellie's tone low and husky, a sound that always sent a shiver down your spine. Her fingers worked deftly at the knot, untying it with ease, her touch careful and deliberate. As she did, she glanced up, her voice dropping to a softer, more husky tone, as if trying to coax a response out of you. “Did you hear what I said?”

You managed a half-hearted reply, more of a mumble than anything else. “Get me cleaned, yes.” her fingers finally loosening the stubborn knot, helping you out of your boots. It felt as if the weight of the day begin to lift, replaced by the comfort of knowing that you had her with you, in this very moment to finally provide you safeness.

She would never say it, but you could see the relief in her expression, the way her worry eased just a fraction realizing the same thing. After a long day, she had you there, safe.

"Come on," you groaned, tilting your head back as you sighed deeply. Inside your mind, you counted down from five before finally taking her hand and standing up.

The stiffness in your feet began to ease as you pressed your feet against the cold, hard concrete floor. Its coolness and firmness, in contrast to the warm flesh, added just enough pressure to make you feel better.

Ellie led you into the bathroom—it was only a few steps, really. Her hand was a steadying presence, her fingers resting gently on your opposite arm with each step you took. The small space was dimly lit, a single candle flickering and casting soft, dancing shadows on the walls. Ellie’s bathroom was simple but functional—a small tub, a sink, and a water system. A barrel of water sat near the ceiling, connected to a series of tubes that fed into the showerhead, sink, and toilet. It wasn’t much, but it worked, and in this world, that was everything.

The absence of her touch contrasted with the tender atmosphere. From your viewpoint, you could see her hair, messily tidied into a bun, with a few baby hairs and stray strands adorning her neck and the area behind her ears. You wanted to kiss them.

She knelt by the tub, her movements loud as she filled a bucket with water. The sound of the water splashing into the bucket was soothing, a gentle reminder that you were finally safe—finally home.

Ellie set the bucket down next to the tub and looked up at you, only then realizing you were already looking back. It was quiet, aside from the sound of the water, but everything felt blurry in her presence.

You shifted slightly, resting the back of your arms and elbows against the sink to keep your composure, making enough space for both of you and allowing her to stand up.

She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, wiping away the dried blood that clung stubbornly to your skin. "Arms up," she said with quiet determination, an unspoken promise that she wouldn’t let anything else be a struggle tonight.

You nodded, too tired to do much else, and let her help you out of your clothes. Each piece of fabric that left your body and fell to the floor felt like another layer of the day’s grime and exhaustion being peeled away. By the time you stood there, bare and vulnerable, you felt lighter—still weary, but no longer weighed down.

The tub was cold and stiff, making your bones ache. But it was all easily forgotten. Ellie dipped a sponge into the bucket and began to gently cleanse your skin. She worked in silence, her touch tender and methodical as she wiped away the dirt, blood, and sweat that clung to you. The water was cool against your overheated skin, soothing the burns left by the sun and the aches buried deep in your muscles. The sponge moved across your body with a kind of reverence, as if she were handling something precious. In that moment, you were—precious to her, and safe in her care.

When the sponge had done its work, Ellie carefully poured the dirty water over you, rinsing away the last remnants of the day and ensuring your hair was thoroughly wet. The water cascaded down your body, carrying away the grime and blood, leaving you feeling half-clean—both physically and emotionally.

You let out a soft sigh, feeling as though the water was rinsing away more than just dirt. It was washing away the tension, the fear, and the exhaustion, leaving you with nothing but the comfort of being home, of being with her.

Ellie reached for the soap, lathering it between her hands before gently running them over your skin. The smell of it—something mild and earthy, a scent she had traded for a few weeks back—filled the small bathroom. The soap felt comforting against your battered skin, and Ellie’s hands moved with the kind of care that came from knowing just how fragile you felt in that moment.

She repeated those same motions later, with the soap on your body, her fingers careful not to apply too much pressure whenever there was a cut, bruise, or anything that could cause pain.

“Let me know if it hurts,” Ellie murmured, her voice a low, comforting hum that resonated in your chest. You managed a weak nod, closing your eyes as you surrendered fully to her care. The world outside ceased to exist, reduced to the sound of water splashing against porcelain and the feeling of Ellie’s hands moving over your body in a slow, rhythmic dance.

Finally, she reached up and pulled the chain that controlled the flow of water from the barrel, letting a gentle stream of water fall over you from the showerhead. It wasn’t much—she had to be careful with how much water was used—but it was enough.

"Here," she whispered, planting a kiss on your forehead as she handed you a small towel. It was barely enough to properly dry your hair, but you always managed to make it work.

Too focused on the wet sounds in your ears coming from your hair being dried, you barely noticed the commotion Ellie made while searching for a proper towel for you. She swore she had a clean one left—or maybe she had just convinced herself earlier to avoid doing laundry today. But you didn't know that, so she had to hurry.

When she finally appeared in the doorway, you tilted your chin up, meeting her hands first and then the towel she held. "Come here," she murmured. In a matter of seconds, she had the towel wrapped around your shoulders and was guiding you out of the bathroom and, much to your relief, into the very desirable bed.

She knelt in front of you again, her hands busy with the towel, drying you off with the same care she’d shown throughout. As she worked, her eyes kept flicking up to meet yours, as if she needed to reassure herself that you were really safe, here.

"Can I?" she asked, her fingers lightly grazing the skin of your thighs. Her hazel eyes, dilated pupils, focused on all the bruises, all the wounds. And again, you didn't reply verbally but simply moved the towel aside, exposing yourself before her and allowing her to reach every inch of skin that needed the tenderness of her touch.

It took some pain, hisses, and a kiss here and there. The needle was probably something no human could ever get used to, nor the sensation of the thread between your skin. But you made it work; you had to.

Ellie was gentle, helping you into a clean set of clothes—something soft and warm that smelled faintly of her. You could barely keep your eyes open by this point, the weight of the day catching up with you now that you were finally clean and comfortable.

"Hey," Ellie called softly, taking your hand and gripping it just enough to reassure you. You turned your chin up, meeting her pretty eyes and that sheepish smile. "Let's go eat, come on."

As you did every morning, you forced yourself out of bed. Just as you had done with the couch when you first came in, you took a deep breath, counted to three, and stood up.

Dinner most nights was something she threw together while you were out on patrol. Today, the aroma of a hearty stew filled the room, mingling with the faint scent of herbs.

Usually you’d joke about her cooking, mocking her “chef talents”—she wasn't the best. But tonight, the words stuck in your throat, weighed down by exhaustion and the thought of simply touching the bed again, it looked so inviting.

You slid into your seat at the table, the day's exhaustion making your limbs heavy. Ellie chuckled, her usual dorky grin present but softened by concern. "It's not fancy, but—" she said, sliding a plate in front of you. "It's edible."

She watched as you took tentative bites, her hand resting on your back, offering silent encouragement. As usual, she didn’t touch her own food until she saw you eat.

The silence between you was comfortable, the warmth of the stew seeping into your bones, grounding you after the chaos of the day. Yet, as the meal progressed, your appetite remained low. You gave small glances at Ellie, considering your usual reluctance to eat her cooking.

"I know you’re tired, but you haven't had proper food since breakfast."

You knew that if you refused again, she’d let it slide, waiting until you were sound asleep before eating anything herself just to avoid an argument.

But after all she’d done to take care of you tonight, you couldn’t bring yourself to fight her on this. "I’ll wait with you. We can eat together.” With a quiet nod, you picked up your spoon again and took another bite.

Relief. Ellie could only stare at you with relief. The adrenaline of every time you went out on patrol never really fading until next day- for her, it wasn't only the thoughts of you getting hurt, but killed, taken by anyone and being hurt. She feared humans mostly.

And then, seeing you in front of her- yes, hurt, but nothing else- it was like all the anxiety finally made any sense. What would it be if any day you didn't come back, how could she ever manage to eat dinner herself, alone.

Having you in front of her, so close. Feeling the warmth of your skin under her hoodie- the fact that you're the one on her clothes, right next to her. The fact that she's having to force you to eat. It's always a relief, to know you're here, with her, that she has you.

It wasn't until her brain finally realized it was all good that she started to eat.

You always finished first. Only waiting for your stomach to feel full enough, with a gentle move, you pushed the plate away slightly to let her know you were done. Ellie always replied with a nod and a quick glance. Her hand on your thigh as she finished the last few bites of her meal.

The usual banter and teasing were absent, replaced by a quiet understanding—a silent agreement that tonight was about more than just food or sleep. It was about taking care of each other, about finding comfort in the little things. Like—no dishes to be washed tonight. That's future you both's problem.

“Let’s get you to bed,” she whispered, her voice a soothing balm to your tired mind.

You didn’t argue, letting her lead you to the small bed you shared. The sheets cool against your skin as you slipped under them, Ellie sliding in beside you. She pulled you close, her arms wrapping around you in a comfortable and tight enough embrace that felt like the safest place in the world. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your back lulled you.

You could feel the rhythm of her breathing against your neck. It all creating the most desirable sanctuary. And after hours that felt endless, you could close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of normalcy—the simple, precious moment of being held by someone who cares deeply, knowing that no matter what tomorrow brings, you'd wake up next to her, ready to face it together.

[lirotation]

This set is done =D

Putting it together with a fanfic.

Dancing Across Faerûn

Spawn Astarion X Female Tav, fluff. Post game, on the journey to search for a cure.

The aged tome lay open before Amaara. She leaned in, squinting to make out the faded text as the nights blurred together. A promising lead at last began to take shape...

Suddenly, familiar arms encircled her from behind as Astarion's chin came to rest on the top of her head. "Still poring over those dusty books, my dear?" he purred, "It's well past time you retired for the evening."

Amaara waved him off distractedly. "In a moment. I'm so close to..."

Astarion turned her chair around, “Oh, no, eyes on me.”

With a sly wink, he began to unbutton his shirt with exaggerated slowness. Amaara's eyes widened as she realized his intent. Piece by piece, his clothing puddled to the floor until he stood gloriously nude before her.

Then, as only he could, Astarion launched into an impromptu lap dance - swaying his hips and running his hands over his body in a practiced routine that would surely make even the most experienced courtesan blush.

By the time he finished by straddling Amaara's lap and crushing his lips to hers in a searing kiss, any thought of research had completely evacuated her mind. She could only gaze at him with a mixture of desire and exasperated fondness as he broke the kiss with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Bed. Now," Astarion commanded with a husky growl.

"Only if you teach me how to dance like that."

“It’s too advanced for you just yet, my pupil, let's continue your lesson for the horizontal dance first.”

Amaara couldn't help but laugh, even as she allowed him to tug her to her feet.

She knew she had a tendency of being single-minded, rushing headlong into everything as if it were a critical mission. An intense focus that had served her well in battle, but often caused her to neglect the simpler pleasures in life.

She was grateful to have Astarion by her side. He was full of life.  His very presence was a reminder to occasionally pause and truly savor the journey they were on together - not just endure it.

There were the inevitable hardships of life on the road - long days of hard travel, scratching out camps in the wilderness, and more than a few close brushes with dangerous beasts and unsavory folk. But those challenges seemed insignificant compared to the wealth of fond memories.

Amaara's mind drifted back to the spectacle of their first stop in Waterdeep, where Astarion had effortlessly charmed them into one of the city's most exclusive noble's balls. She could still see the look of devilish glee on his face as he bowed deeply and offered his hand. "My lady, would you honor me with this dance?"

Who was she to refuse such gallantry? With an elegant curtsy, she had taken his hand and allowed him to whisk her into a waltz amid the candlelight and champagne. 

For once, she just enjoyed the moment and the swirl of the dance.

Sometimes their travels found them staying in decidedly lower-end dwellings. Amaara vividly recalled one particular evening at a rather disreputable brothel.

She had been casting cleanse spells on everything in the room when the raucous sounds of music and laughter filtered up from the lobby below.

Before she knew it, Astarion was at her side, eyes gleaming with mischief. He grasped her by the wrist, flashing that irresistible smirk. "Shall we dance, my dear?"

Amaara tried to pull back with an awkward laugh. "Oh, I couldn't possibly. I don't know the steps..."

But he simply tsked, refusing to release his gentle grip as he tugged her toward the door. "Then you'll follow my lead."

She didn't have a chance to protest further before he swept her into the rowdy fray below. courtesans and patrons spun energetically to the driving beat. Before Amaara could catch her breath, Astarion pulled her in close, one arm snaking possessively around her waist.

Then, they were moving - his hips rolling sinuously against hers as he guided her into the smoldering rhythms of a tango. She could only gaze up at him, wide-eyed and flustered, as he led her through the heated, intimate steps.

His eyes burned into hers with a look that made her heart flutter. One calloused hand traced tingling lines up the curve of her spine as he dipped her into a deep backbend, bodies melding together. By the time he drew her backup, chest heaving, Amaara's face was flushed bright crimson.

The memory of that dance, of being so utterly undone in his arms, still brought a fierce blush to her cheeks.

Amaara's mind drifted to another fond memory - this one taking place in a small town they had passed through. The townsfolk were in the midst of some local celebration, gathered in the square as lively folk music spilled out into the streets.

She had always harbored a secret longing to join in the kind of unbridled communal dancing she witnessed, but had never had anyone to dance with. This time, however, she turned eagerly to Astarion with an huge grin.

"Oh, will you dance with me, please?" she asked, giving his arm a playful tug. "I've wanted to take part in one of these since I was a little girl."

Astarion raised one elegant eyebrow, “How unsophisticated.” Before her smile faded, he continued, “but how could I refuse such an earnest plea?”

He seized her hand and led them out into the swirling dancers and began leading her through a series of joyfully choreographed turns and circles.

Soon they were whirling amid the crowd, all cares forgotten in that moment. Amaara couldn't resist throwing back her head with a pearl of unfettered laughter, brown locks bouncing freely.

When she turned her bright smile back toward Astarion, she was surprised to find him chuckling as well. His deep crimson eyes sparkled with mirth, face awash in an unguarded expression of pure delight she didn't often see him wear.

Amaara's wandering mind was abruptly pulled back to the present as Astarion rolled them over, pinning her to the bed with his weight. His lips found hers in a deep, searching kiss that made her toes curl.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, she gazed up at him. This passionate lover, this mentor who had taught her to seize life's pleasures with unbridled zeal - had once been subjected to centuries of unspeakable torture and abuse. The fact that he did not merely survive that unimaginable hardship, but emerged with his radiant lust for living defiantly intact, left Amaara in awe. 

She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his intoxicating scent. Despite the dark horrors he had endured, despite the vampiric curse inflicted upon him, Astarion still embraced each new day as a precious gift. His rich laughter rang out freely and without restraint - the most triumphant of melodies after the dissonance of his past. To him, the scenery unfolding with every winding mile was worthwhile in itself. Each experience, no matter how small, was relished and savored to its fullest.

He is living proof that no burden, no matter how oppressive, could extinguish the indomitable essence of the soul.

Yes, they are on a mission, but there will be no frantic marching or single-minded zeroing toward the end goal. Instead, they will dance every step of the journey, spinning wildly through every rise and fall of the Realms.

[10underoot2]

I thought I would have so much to say about the car accident scene. And while I could go on for a while on why it's everything I've ever wanted from a scene of this nature and why it's a beautifully acted cinematic piece, I do think the beauty of the scene lies so much in silence. Their expressions are do a fantastic job to express their emotional state so I'm just gonna call attention to a few things I won't get over anytime soon.

Imagine being Haein and seeing your husband wrecking a car window in hysteria. Imagine seeing disbelief on his face when he sees you and walks towards you. Imagine watching him unable to breathe properly (sound on and high for this scene). Imagine seeing life flood into him as soon as you touch him.

Jiwon plays such an important part here. Because Haein has NEVER seen Hyunwoo like this. He's a pretty calm nice, non-violent guy. She knows him to like mostly everyone and he rarely gets angry - he's pretty composed. But then what is this look of complete shattered pain on his face? With a mix of disbelief, bearing the heaviest heart on the planet? He's unrecognisable to her. She can't make sense of any of his actions. She's in utter shock hearing how hardly any air is making it's way into his lungs.

In his eyes is a look of crazed wilderness just tamed. He's out of his sense. Completely lost in the events that have just passed. Not believing that he can breathe. That it's okay. All is well in the world for now. She's unscathed.

'What's going on? Calm down.'

The way she asks him to calm down - touching his face - cause she just doesn't know what in the world could send him in such a frenzy to forget himself. Her asking him to calm down here is everything to me. She's really just saying I'm here okay. Calm down. Calm down, you can breathe. Tell me what happened and I can fix it.

'Even still, Are you crazy? How could you break the window with your bare hands? Look at this!'

I know it probably didn't register to him at that point. But he's hearing her being worried for him again when he thought her lost forever. Wouldn't that sound like music to his ears.

And her...god she's so worried for him. She's never seen him like this. She doesn't know what happened to make him like this. One she sees his absolutely broken bloody hand. Two she's seeing her husband absolutely crushed. She's so confused.

That is until his words hit her like a truck. I think she had an idea that he did it to save her but she didn't know he did it because he thought her dead. And that makes all the difference for her.

Also I thought it was very interesting to keep showing his injured hand clenching. I think it was a way to show how the physical pain still didn't hold a candle to his emotional turmoil. He CLENCHES that broken hand multiple times. I can't even begin to think when he actively registered the pain.

The need for constant touch to reaffirm that she indeed is there. The sitting down. The head on her hand. The heavy breathing. *Chef's kiss*

I love women comforting the man they love when he's broken. Gah! That hand on his face and hug. Her embracing him. Letting him cry all he wants. Giving him the reaffirmation he needs by placing her self as close to him as possible. Trying to tame and override his sense. The hand on the nape of his neck. The hand caressing his hair lovingly. And good god, the RINGS.

Also notice his breathing on her shoulder. He's trying to calm himself. Telling himself she's here. Hearing her say it's alright. Everything will be alright.

I'm sure they stay like this until the ambulance comes and asks them if they're hurt. Only then Haein must've gently tore him apart from her (hand on his face again ofcourse) and convinced/guided him to finally get treatment. I can just Imagine Hyunwoo completely dishevelled going, 'Huh *sniffs*......oh.......Right, my hand' and that's when the pain hits him.

Special mention to the hospital conversation when Haein asks him 'Will you sob like this if I die?' and he says truthfully, bashfully, embarrassed but without missing a beat 'Ofcourse.' He's hiding behind nothing. He truly meant to give up on himself after her.

For me this is also the night Haein starts to write her diary. Hyunwoo must've been sound asleep, amped up on painkillers and she must've had so much time to sit and admire him and write.

Gif credits: @wolha and @seawherethesunsets

[sky-is-the-limit]

Clarity.

P: Charles Smith x F!Reader

CW: NSFW content, Doggy Position, Forced Focus

WC: 1,339 words.

It wasn't meant to escalate in that manner, not really. One moment, Charles was calmly imparting his knowledge, guiding you through the intricacies of maintaining focus in the wilderness.

His voice was steady, filled with wisdom as he shared techniques to sharpen your instincts and improve your ability to see with clarity. You listened intently, absorbing every word as if he was sharing the world's greatest secrets.

Before you could fully comprehend how, in the blink of an eye, you found yourself stripped bare, vulnerable for only nature and Charles to witness.

Your precious book laid open on the grass before you, its pages fluttering gently in the breeze whilst two strong arms embraced you from behind, their grip firm and unyielding as they held you in place by your hips.

"Keep reading, pretty girl." Charles mumbled lowly and with each syllable, you could feel him pushing in, inch by inch, his thickness filling you completely.

As he continued to push, you felt yourself stretching beyond your own belief. The sensation was overpowering in its magnitude as you accommodated his width and length. Every nerve in your body seemed to be on fire, electrified by his touch.

Despite the initial discomfort, there was an undeniable thrill in being filled so completely out in the open. It was as if you were being consumed by him and as he pushed further, the pleasure only grew.

"Let your eyes focus on every word." He continued and you followed his instructions, allowing your gaze to glide over the words on the page, absorbing their meaning with each passing moment.

Though patience was one of his greatest attributes, the sensation of your cunt enveloping him, sucking him into your tight hole, always ignited a maddening pleasure within him.

It was a primal instinct, a response that transformed him into a whole different man. As he surrendered to your warmth, a deep moan escaped his lips, echoing in your ears like the most addictive melody.

"And just breathe." He whispered in a voice much more gravely and broken than you were used to hearing, his breath warm against your skin as his lips placed wet kisses on your shoulder blades.

His hands tightened their grip on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh needily. With each thrust, he plunged deeper into you, his cock driving into your core with an urgency that bordered on desperation.

The rhythm of his movements was intoxicating and your back arched in response to his thrusts, every collision of his hips against your ass making the walls of your cunt squeeze around him, clinging to his length with a hunger that matched his own.

The words on the pages began to blur together, each letter melting into the next as your focus wavered.

His name slipped past your lips in a silent prayer, a desperate plea for more as the tip of his cock hit a sweet spot.

With each forward thrust, the head of his cock grazed against the entrance of your cervix, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

''Did I tell you to stop?'' Charles groaned, the sound deep and guttural while his fingers tangled in your hair, a firm grip that kept you in place to keep your head from moving and ensuring that your eyes remained fixed on the lines of the book.

And just when you thought you couldn't bear any more, he delivered a resounding slap to your ass without once faltering with his pace.

''Out loud, sweetheart.'' Emphasizing his command with another hard thrust, he drove his hips forward with a force that left you breathless.

''The courtier’s-ah- soldier’s, scholar’s eye, tongue, swor- Oh, god-'' With a shaky voice and soft whimpers escaping your lips between each word, you began to recite the lines of the book aloud.

It was a struggle to form coherent sentences, the words tumbling out in a disjointed jumble as your mind struggled to focus.

The pace he took was immediate, hard, and animalistic, each thrust carrying the force of a vigor urge to make sure you could feel the power behind his movements, each one driving you closer insanity.

His strong hands clasped your love handles with a firmness that bordered on possessive, leaving bruises in their wake.

As your cunt clenched around him, he dipped one hand to stroke your clit, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. The sensitive little nub responded eagerly to his touch, causing every muscle in your body to tighten to the point of near numbness.

''Keep going, angel.'' Charles repeated the same pattern for what felt like an eternity, each thrust driving deeper into you with a relentless determination.

''The expectation- ah'' You stuttered out, the words catching in your throat as you struggled to articulate amidst the need to keep breathing.

''And rose of the fair state-'' And even as your body trembled and your breath hitched with each thrust, you refused to falter.

Your thighs throbbed from the force of his thrusts, the pleasure coursing through your veins like liquid fire.

With each movement, the knot in the pit of your stomach grew tighter, threatening to unravel at any moment. Desperate to feel it release, you planted your elbows down firmly, bobbing your hips to meet his thrusts.

''Good girl.'' An amused purr sounded from Charles as his grip traveled from your hips to your breasts, kneading your nipple between his fingers.

A desperate whimper escaped your lips as you found yourself growing even more aroused. You had always loved it when Charles called you a good girl, but to have him treat you like that, how sinful it all was, was something else entirely.

''The glass of fashion and the mold of form-'' You trembled with emotion, the words escaping your lips in a desperate plea for release.

"So good-" His voice was raw with need, each word punctuated by the rhythmic movement of his body against yours.

His pattern grew unfocused and inconsistent, but each thrust built up pressure boiling low in your stomach, before one final shove of his cock combined with the attention to your clit caused the build-up to shatter, sending you into your orgasm.

The coil inside you finally snapped, releasing the tension that had been building within you like a tightly wound spring. In that moment, as the pressure reached its breaking point, your walls seized around his cock with an intensity that took your breath away.

''Charles, god!'' Your entire body convulsed with pleasure, every muscle tensing as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

It was as if a dam had burst within you, flooding your senses with a torrent of sensation that left you reeling.

You choked as the full weight of him collapsed onto you, his hips driving his twitching cock as deep as it could go into your dripping cunt whilst his warmth flooded your insides.

Every pulse of his release was felt within you, every twitch of his spent cock and as he finally settled against you, panting heavily into the column of your throat, you could feel the rapid beat of his pulse against your skin.

Charles then gently laid you down on the soft grass, his touch tender and reverent as he cradled you in his arms. The cool blades of grass brushed against your skin, a soothing contrast to the heat that still lingered within you from your recent exertions.

As he sprawled out next to you, his body pressed close to yours, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. His arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close to his chest as if to shield you from the world.

The scent of the earth surrounded you, mingling with the musky aroma of his skin. It was a comforting embrace, one that filled you with a sense of warmth and security.

"You did good, angel." Charles whispered softly, his touch soothing as his hand rubbed your arm in a comforting manner that grounded you in the moment.

[aeirithgainsborough]

no but yellowjackets paralleling lottie’s dream to jackie’s im still feeling insane about it. jackie who said multiple times they were going to be dead soon anyway and hating it out in that wilderness and losing her footing in the team and her sense of self and having no will to survive. lottie who is becoming not only a leader but a beacon of hope to these girls who have found something holy in her, who has endless hope ‘we won’t be hungry much longer’ ‘javi is still alive i can feel it’, who killed the bear, who works to ensure the groups’ survival. jackie needing to find that footing she lost so in her dream everyone is looking after her and assuring her of their love. lottie feeling the pressure of everyone’s belief in her and that manifesting as their cruelty in her dream they are laughing at her and she is letting them down, she cannot even say a prayer. jackie who was in a way killed by the cruelty of the girls having their devotion in her dream. lottie who gets their devotion in reality having their cruelty in her dream. jackie who can’t find the will to survive who doesn’t fight who doesn’t go back into that cabin being guided gently into death by laura lee ‘it’s not as bad as you thought is it’. lottie who does want to survive being pushed hard back into life by laura lee ‘we have to get you out of here you have to go go! go!’. just. this fucking show.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Rescue pt. 1: knight!price x princess!reader

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, medieval standard for women, attempted kidnapping

The king was worse than you imagined, but perhaps you were being dramatic.

He had done nothing but spoke of himself, the money he had and everything else about him. You don't don't think you'd ever met a man who was more full of himself than the king and yet no one seemed to find an issue with that.

You had barely spoken to him, not that he gave you a chance, and he didn't seem to notice. You instead just spent most of you time smiling and nodding, not even wasting your energy to open your mouth.

You had also noticed that he seemed to eye the maids who walked past, paying them more attention than you, his future wife.

Was this supposed to be the rest of your life? Were you supposed to be an accessory that was decorated and put on display, being spoken at but never spoken to while your husband chased after other women?

Did your mother hate you? Why would she do this to you?

"For security." She had told you. "We need a strong ally and you are far too past the age to be unmarried, our people adore you but they talk."

It was naïve but you wished you were born in a time where you could marry for love instead. This security felt like a prison, this marriage would be your chains. You were already alone but you'd be more isolated than ever once he stole you away to his kingdom.

It took everything in you to keep yourself composed.

"I hope you're as excited as I am." The king finally addressed you later than night at dinner and you smiled instinctively.

"Of course, your majesty." Your words were like poison and left a bad taste in your mouth.

"My family and our kingdoms will grow. Soon we won't have to worry about any war."

His family.

You were paralyzed by that notion, disgusted by thinking about the man in front of you touching you or laying with you. You were sure that he'd forget about you if you were pregnant with his child or that would be the only time he'd pay attention to you. You'd be thrown to the side once you gave him an heir, you were sure of it.

Fear gripped your throat, your entire being and it became too much.

You had pushed these feelings away for months, you had ignored them and tried to convince yourself that you could do it for the sake of your kingdom and your people but you couldn't. You were terrified.

After dinner, you were supposed to make your way to your bedchamber, but once you were out of sight, you ran towards the garden.

You somehow slipped past the guards and ran to the river, but you didn't stop. Instead you ran into the forest and let the setting sun guide you far from the castle in hopes that maybe if you couldn't see it your problems would disappear as well.

You stopped when you realized there nowhere you could go. You could run to the nearest village and someone may recognize you or you'd be caught eventually by the knights. Any neighboring kingdom was too far and you'd die in the wilderness before you got close.

You were trapped.

"Are you lost, my lady?" A voice called out to you and you jumped.

A group of men stepped onto the path you were on. They looked as if they had been on the road for a while and judging by their destitute clothes they might not have a place to go to.

However, what sympathy you had for them quickly disappeared when you noticed the strange look in their eyes. You took a couple steps back, but noticed a couple other men appeared behind you.

"No." You said firmly, lying through your teeth. "I was on my way to the village."

One of the men scoffed and raised an eyebrow, not believing you. He seemed to have special interest in your dress and jewelry you were wearing, no doubt knowing exactly who you were.

"We could show you the way." He offered but you shook your head, slowly finding yourself being cornered by the men.

"I can find my own way, thank you." You swallowed hard.

"You'd be much safer with us, your highness."

You stepped away from them as quick as possible and grabbed a stick, brandishing it front of you to keep them away. You face burned when they laughed and you're not sure what it would do to help you but it was the only thing you could think of.

You could bargained them with money but they'd get more out of you if they held you for ransom.

One of the men lunged at you and you swung the stick, smacking him in the middle of the face, causing him to cry out. You hit another before one grabbed your from behind and forced your to drop the stick. You struggled and screamed before you felt something sharp poke underneath your jaw.

"You'll come complacent or dead." The man threatened as he made a show of the dagger.

Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest and you began to panic. You thought this would be it before you heard approaching hooves.

An arrow flew threw the air and hit another man square in the back before another sunk deep into a man's arm. Price rode in on his horse and drew his sword before he jumped off, engaging with the men.

He was much quicker than them and far more skilled. Iron clashed with each other and the men let out cries when Price cut them with his blade, going completely untouched.

You used the commotion to stamp your foot on the man and elbow him in the gut. You managed to push away from him, not before getting cut with his blade on your arm, before you ran away from him.

Price grabbed you and pulled you behind him. He stood in front of you protectively and kept his bloody sword brandished to deter the bandits from moving any closer to you.

"Stay behind me." He told you lowly. "I'll keep you safe."

You blame the reason why your chest was set aflame on the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Some of the bandits were dead, lying in a pool of their own blood, while others held onto their bleeding wounds. Their leader glared at Price but he didn't falter.

"Bastard knight." The leader spat.

"You wouldn't want to lose more of your men would you, eh?" He stood tall and kept a fierce, but confident look in his eyes. "I'm more than willing to let you if that's what you want however."

The bandit thought for just a moment they all ran away into the forest.

Your arm stung and you placed your hand over the wound while you watched them run. Warm blood stained your hand but you were more focus on Price in front of you, unable to take your eyes off the back of his head.

The warmth in your chest only grew as he turned to you, his eyes sharp but laced with concern.

a/n: i think i know who fell first or at least who i want to fall first

Tags. @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare

[daretoassume]

guide on how to actually love yourself

self-love is not all about self-care where you put your weekly masks on with your matcha drink. sure, taking care of yourself physically is included, but self-love is something from within. have you forgiven yourself for your past mistakes? have you forgiven others for their mistakes? are you compassionate and kind to yourself, or do you curse at yourself when you do something wrong?

the thing about neglecting yourself is you will most likely prefer to seek other people's validation, attention, and love, consciously or unconsciously. you will find yourself "lonely" because you do not enjoy your own company. you will find yourself hungry 'in the wilderness' as you constantly seek something 'out there' when you have everything you need within you.

this "sp" of yours is not going to change your life

how many times can you look at yourself in the mirror and say 'i love you?' how do you feel about it? do you feel resistant because inside it just does not feel real? sure, you are manifesting your sp but have you already done your introspective/inner work before you manifest that love from other people? don’t you feel powerless/helpless when you 'successfully' manifested your sp only to find that you just lost your sense of self?

before you manifest any type of relationship, you must remember that the most important relationship is the relationship you have with yourself. how could you ever prioritize being in a relationship when you just neglected the most important thing? it is like sending a message to yourself that "everything around me is important except me."

i know some people just manifest their "sp" just because. they do not even care about the qualities; they will just "fix him" or "invent him." they are focused on that specific person, not the actual qualities that are right for them.

if you want a kind, respectful, ambitious, caring, sweet, romantic, helpful, generous, attractive kind of person, are you willing to work on those qualities first yourself before manifesting?

because if you have those qualities yourself then it would be so effortless for you to attract that kind of person to you. you are in the same vibration; you would meet people of the same vibration as you because you attract what you are.

how to actually love yourself

these are just some (personal) ways, to focus on but all of these helped me over the years of working towards myself. feel free to ask/dm me about it if you need help or if there are things you might want to add.

𓍯 shadow work

this is the most important thing to do when you are beginning to work on yourself. you have to feel, see, and examine everything that made you who you are today. all the pain, sorrow, guilt, shame, and resentment, you have to write all those down.

as far as i remember, every time i do shadow work, something incredible happens right after because i know to myself i have broken down a certain block that keeps me stagnant because of those weights that have been holding me down for years since i was a child.

and i say this not because you can experience the things happening right after the shadow work, i say this because in order to truly love yourself, you have to accept every shadow you have had.

𓍯 forgive everyone who did you wrong

and i mean everybody, since you were a baby. love yourself enough to make peace. you might not forgive them for them, but for yourself. this also should be included in your shadow work. if you have to put names one by one of everybody who did you wrong and why it made you feel that way, then do so (just do not send them).

𓍯 change your old beliefs that don't serve you at all

those negative beliefs are not yours to begin with, even if they are directed to you. do not steal those beliefs from others; let them be theirs. but accept that you have them. only then can you let them all go. identify those beliefs that are not serving you, let them go, then create new beliefs that will serve you better.

𓍯 take care of yourself physically

whether that be working out, eating healthy, or taking your vitamins, have a good sleeping schedule. you should always, always, always have time to take care of yourself. you literally live in your body until the end of time. choose to take care of it; be responsible for your own body.

𓍯 you are what you eat

and i am not just talking about what you eat, but also the content on social media, movies, songs, lyrics, and negative beliefs from other people that you are ingesting. if you have been consuming those negative things for years, what did it do to you? does listening to depressing songs make you feel good? it feels at home? why? because you are familiar with it already for years. the bad feels so good, it feels like home to you.

you wake up and immediately doomscroll, and see nothing but what? negative beliefs and opinions of other people?

why do you hate yourself?

unless of course you curated your feed into more positive/helpful content.

𓍯 clean your room

yes, that saying "your room is a reflection of your mind" is real. speaking from my own experience.

𓍯 self-reflect

how many times do you actually reflect on how you act towards others, yourself, and your ambitions in life? reflect on why you do what you do. reflect on the origin of your beliefs and if they are nonsensical, let them go. self-reflection keeps you grounded and gives you self-awareness, hence, you take more right actions in your daily life.

𓍯 have some self-respect and know your worth

you are not here to accept the disrespect of others and just think that you deserve it or continue to have connections with them. you should be on the pedestal, not him, not her, not that object, but you. do not accept something below your expectations. and do not even get to the point that you are about to lose your self-respect; flee that situation as soon as possible and never look back.

you are not here to plead, to apologize, or to wait for somebody who does not think about you at all.

how can you be okay with people disrespecting you and not you disrespecting yourself?

you have no idea how much power you have. think highly of yourself. nobody is going to do this for you. and even if they know your worth and you don't, you will just keep thinking lowly of yourself, speaking badly of yourself because you think you do not deserve to be worthy.

how can you be okay with that?

𓍯 follow your highest excitement

no matter how other people think how silly it is (physical reality is just a messenger of who you are),

if you know inside that you are meant for it, if you know that it is your highest excitement, do it and just continue to go for it, every day. and i am not suggesting playing video games all day and forget about your health and your loved ones. choose to do what you are passionate about. what are the things that you see yourself doing in a few years?

𓍯 educate yourself

read books, learn a hobby, learn something you are passionate about, learn how to socialize professionally. we all have these different kinds of sources that we can easily access. the thing is some people would rather spend their time on nonsensical things and doomscroll until they feel bad and sorry for themselves. be hungry for knowledge.

"do you know that most people that i meet spend their lives looking for occasions to be offended? they actually are out there hoping that they can find some reason to be offended, and there's no shortage of reasons, they're out there everywhere." ♰ dr. wayne dyer

𓍯 be disciplined

every single day, you have to make a choice to change for yourself, in a way that you prefer, of course.

it is easy to be successful these days, you just have to be willing to make a commitment. we can take all this knowledge, but the only way to have results is to take action and be disciplined to do them.

do you love yourself enough to change?

do you love yourself enough to make a difference in your reality? sure, there are beliefs that have been programmed into you since you were a baby, but it is always your responsibility to heal and change those beliefs. most likely, those people you surrounded yourself with since you were a baby did not know anything about loving themselves.

how can they teach something they do not know at all?

but we can never blame them or point fingers and say, 'you did this to me.' no. because we are all just victims of victims, until you decide to make a change for yourself.

"remember, you have been criticizing yourself for years and it hasn’t worked. try approving of yourself and see what happens." ♰ you can heal your life, louise hay

it is always your choice, it is your life anyway.

i always say that it is easier to match the vibration of what you want (or manifest, whatever you call it) if you love yourself and have a strong self-concept.

because first of all, you have your attention and energy all to yourself, thus, you attract all the things you want in the vibration you are in. second, you would not even think of your desires, you just know (inside) that you have them, and it is only a matter of time for the 3d to catch up.

in this way, there is no resistance at all.

how i worked on myself

speaking from the experience i have through the years, these are everything (that i remember) i did that worked on loving myself. it is not linear like healing, especially from the first few years of working on myself, but i can say this year it is easier to navigate. i still continue to educate myself, but i wanted to share my knowledge from the self-help and loa books i read and also lectures, seminars, and audiobooks i listened to. it gets easier over time, and i see life in a better and beautiful way.

i did it, what makes you different? all you have to do is make a choice for yourself.

[thescarlettbitch]

Devotional Acts

For love or beauty deities

Skin care

Make up (or embrace your natural beauty)

Dress up a little

Paint your nails

Love letters

Self /love/ iykyk

Change your bed sheets/clean up your room/space

Listen to love songs/songs about sex/loving yourself

You know that trend of people, typically women, painting a canvas black and then painting their legs/ass/hands/boobs and making a form of silhouette art for their partners?

Read romance novels

Play Interactive romance novels/romance games (stardew valley, dream daddy, The Arcana, etc)

For war deities

Listen to angry music

Advocate for yourself

Reinforce your boundaries

Cut out the negative people in your life

Feel your anger, recognize your anger, don't force it down, but don't lash out to others. "I am angry. This thing made me angry. It's okay that I am angry, it is not okay to cause harm to those who do not deserve it." Etc etc

Read biographies or accounts of war, or dystopian novels (accounts of war like Night by Elie Weisel, dystopian like Divergent or Hunger Games)

Learn self defense

Learn about how your area was used in past wars.

Play fighting games (call of duty, mortal combat, etc)

For music/art deities

Create! Learn an instrument

Write a song

Paint for them

Listen to experimental or storytelling music. All music is art, so find a vibe for your deity.

Take pictures of nature, art is everywhere in nature, from the paintings on butterfly wings to the sunset

Read/write poetry

Read poetry books, or books about music or art (think biographies from musicians/artists, or books like Guitar Notes by Mary Amato or such) (guitar notes is a midgrade book but it's the only one I could think of the name of)

Visit galleries or local shows, support local artists

For wisdom deities

Read books, any type, but mostly classics like Sherlock Holmes or Jane Austen

Watch documentaries

Take free online courses on subjects that interest you

Visit and support your local libraries and independently owned bookstores

Find old unloved books at thrift stores

Learn a new skill

Listen to music from different time periods

Visit museums

Play strategy games (chess, supreme commander, etc)

Do puzzles

For nature deities

Raise a plant, or a garden

Listen to nature sounds, or music with nature sounds

Observe nature persevering, vines crawling up a building, dandelions in cracks in the pavement.

Read wilderness guides

Learn about your area's native flora and fauna

Visit local parks

Open windows and let the fresh air in

Scavenge/forage (in safe areas)

Play cozy games (animal crossing, etc)

For death deities

Visit local graveyards/cemeteries (don't forget to be mindful and conscious of others and the spirits there)

Listen to music by artists who have passed on, or music about death

Learn about different cultures' funeral practices

Safely move roadkill out of the road, leave a small offering if possible (again, do so SAFELY)

Read books that have death themes (like Edgar Allen Poe, Wuthering Heights, or They Both Die In The End)

Think about how you want your body to be treated in death. Do you want to be buried? Cremated?

For home/hearth deities

Read cozy books

Play cozy games (sims, animal crossing)

Make your house seem warm and inviting to visitors

Learn how to bake, either from scratch or a box, both are acceptable

Learn how to sew or knit or crochet.

Watch cozy movies

Light candles if you don't have a fireplace

Listen to soft music

Visit your friends or family and bring them baked goods

For strong parental deities

Take care of your friends

Make sure your friends eat and are drinking water, do the same for yourself

Tell the people in your life you love them, you're proud of them, they're doing a good job

Read books about found family, self help books

Listen to music that makes you feel safe and loved

Carry a figure that represents them

Take care of yourself the way that they would take care of you.

Cook for yourself. Make yourself feel safe and loved

For health deities

Carry bandaids and Tylenol and extra pads/tampons for people who may need them

Learn about the human body and how it works

Take your meds

Make art out of old pill bottles for them

Know and respect your limits

Watch documentaries about doctors or health sciences

Research holistic remedies and see if any might be of use to you (DO NOT SUBSTITUTE THEM FOR MODERN MEDICINE) be careful of misinformation, and any interactions that certain things might have with your meds

For sea/ocean/water deities

Have a small fountain in your home (you can find them at some dollar stores, or if you're mechanically savvy, make your own)

Salts in your baths

Visit local streams, creeks, rivers, or beaches.

Read about marine life / river life

Read about your local water sources, learn about the water cycle

Collect rain water

Stand in the rain, feel it on you, let it ground you

Listen to music about water/with water sounds/the ocean/the beach

Have pictures in your home/space of the ocean

If you visit the ocean, collect some water and sand and seashells (make sure you follow your own personal gratitude system) to have in your home

Don't fret if you're landlocked, you're practice is valid, you don't need to be at the ocean all the time to feel it's presence. The rain clouds blow in from hundreds of miles away. The ocean is always with you.

Drink water

Carry a small vial of water with you (could be ocean water, river water, or tap water with or without salt in it) you can keep it in your car, in your pocket, or wear it as a necklace

Carry a small vial of salt with you (could be hand harvested from the ocean, table salt, or any kind of off the shelf salt)

For sky/wind/air deities

Let the air in, open windows when possible

Let yourself be free.

Sit outside for a few minutes a day, or longer.

For traveler deities

Pick something up for them on your travels, could be a rock, could be a souvenir

Put a symbol of them in your car

Wear shoes that are good for walking

Drive/walk around to explore new places (you don't even have to leave your town)

Take backroads

Be a (respectful) tourist in every new place that you visit, don't be afraid of looking stupid.

For queer deities

Educate yourself on queer history

Express yourself truthfully

Listen to queer music

Read queer books

Embrace your identity

Read queer poetry, like that of Sappho

Keep yourself safe in spaces that are less open to identities.

Support local queer owned businesses or artists.

Queer art

Love yourself and take care of yourself.

Go to drag shows

Relish in the fact that queerness has been around since the very first civilizations

For Inventive Deities

Do a metal puzzle

Learn metalworking, or just read about it

As always, please feel free to add on, I only work with one deity so please tell me if anything is incorrect or confusing.

Blessed be <3

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Midnight Masquerade - Hunter

Chapter Summary: The bottle lands on Hunter, and you get a classic monsterfuck.

Chapter Warnings: minors be gone; werewolf!Hunter x f!reader, kinks: predator/prey + knotting; desired fear, discussion of consent and rules, thrill of the chase, hiding, oral (f receiving), slightly graphic description of werewolf transformation, pain, unprotected PiV sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, lots of cum, breeding kink if you squint and hold it sideways, mentions of blood, one instance of near dub-con (reader says “i can’t” and Hunter says otherwise), some aftercare

Word Count: 4.0k (i'm not even ashamed of this one)

A/N: please please heed the warnings on this one. while there is a discussion of consent at the beginning, once the werewolf appears, there is no more discussion. I will say right now: reader wants everything that happens. the fear reader experiences is akin to the desired fear one gets from going through haunted houses or watching scary movies. it costs nothing to keep on scrolling if you don't think you're the intended audience for this fic.

also yes i'm posting this on the full moon. and yes it's the Hunter's Moon. i planned this >:)

...Hunter. 

As the bottle rocks to a halt, you glance up to meet Hunter’s piercing gaze. He’s always been extra perceptive, always had the ability to make you feel like he’s seeing through you, but tonight, with magic coursing through him, his eyes pin you in place. A smirk tilts the corners of his mouth up. 

Your breath shudders out of your chest in anticipation as you let your eyes wander over his costume-turned-reality. Ragged lumberjack plaid stretches over his broad shoulders, torn in places to reveal the continuation of his skeleton tattoo. His teeth have sharpened into points, bared in a grin as the smirk on his face widens. Even his hair, usually so neatly held back by his bandana, is fluffier, longer, wilder.

The strobing, dancing lights reflect yellow eyeshine in his gaze, and you shiver. Arousal already begins to pool in your lower belly, molten heat stirring faintly. Hunter’s nostrils flare as he breathes in. The way his eyes flutter lets you know that he can smell you even amidst the press of sweaty bodies, spilled alcohol, and sickly sweet fog. A whimper falls from you, unheard by anyone except him. 

Hunter twirls a fresh shot of clear alcohol between his fingers. “Well, mesh’la?” 

“U-Um,” you say. The rest of the troopers at the table don’t even bother to hide their smug smirks. “Yeah. Let’s do this.” 

Downing the shot, Hunter slams the glass on the table, shaking his unruly curls out of his face. Then he stands, his broad shoulders and narrow waist drawing your gaze down. Already you catch the hint of a bulge outlined at the apex of his thighs. Your mouth waters, body coming alive with electric desire, and you resist the impulse to squeeze your legs together.

Following his lead, you stand as well. He tucks you against his side and leads you through the crowd. Pressed against him, your senses are flooded with the furnace-like heat he radiates, the unique scent of spice and dirt that fills your nose, the tingling sense of controlled danger where his claw-tipped fingers scratch ever so lightly against your waist. You swallow heavily. Kriff, this is going to be a fun night, and you’re grateful once again to whoever sent you the invite to this party. 

To your surprise, Hunter steers you towards the bar. With gentle pressure on your lower back, he guides you to one of the leather stools, but remains standing himself. He leans his forearm on the sticky bartop next to you, his other hand resting on the swell of your thigh. 

“Need some more liquid courage, Sarge?” you say with a teasing smile, your words sounding much more cool and collected than you actually feel. 

He barks a short laugh. “Hardly. No, I would rather keep this experience between us from start to finish. I...” He trails off, eyes studying your face before drifting down to your body, sitting stiff and wound up before him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “...want you to know what you’re getting into.”

“And what is it that I’m getting into?” you ask. You lean closer to him, so close you can feel his warm breath puffing over your face.

“An experience that requires a few ground rules.” 

You nod for him to continue.

“One: when I catch you, don’t run,” he says. 

The bottom of your stomach drops out with excitement. “‘When’?” 

The grin he gives you is wolfish—there’s no other word for it. His teeth bare in a smile masquerading as a snarl, eyeshine glinting once again. “That’s right.” 

“W-What’s rule two?” 

“If you change your mind, you fight as hard as you can. And hit the panic button on this comlink.” He slips the small metal device from his jeans pocket and holds it between clawed fingers. “I don’t know how much I’ll be able to stay in control if I transform.” 

Gripping the comlink with shaking fingers, you locate the panic button and, with a nod, tuck the device into your pocket. “Rule three?” 

Hunter tilts his head, seeming to look through you again. You fidget in your seat until you realize he must be listening to your body—you become intensely aware of the way that your heart hammers against your ribcage, pulse racing, and of the heat scorching through your veins only to pool deep in your core. When he refocuses on your face again, your cunt clenches around nothing at the hungry look in his eyes.

“Rule three,” he echoes, “don’t hold back.” 

He tilts your head up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You moan in surprise, body melting with little resistance into his touch. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, not enough to draw blood, but enough that the quick sting sends a jolt of pleasure through you. Resting your palms on his chest, you delight in the way his muscles flex and how he seems to quiver. Like he’s holding himself back, despite his order for you to do the opposite.

You break away with a gasp. Hunter nudges your face to the side and, growling, presses his nose to the pulse point below your jaw. You gasp as he inhales your scent.

“Fuck, mesh’la,” he rasps, his words only meant for you, “you smell good enough to eat.” 

You bite your lip to keep your moan contained, still aware of the bartender shooting you a mildly amused look and of the dozens of people around you right now. As if he can sense you holding back—because he probably can—Hunter bites your neck. 

“Rule three,” he husks. 

“I’ll follow your rules if you follow them, too,” you gasp out. “Don’t you dare hold back, either.” 

He pulls back from you, hooded eyes meeting yours. Whatever he searches for in your gaze, he must find, because a slow, predatory grin spreads over his face. 

“Deal,” he says. “I’ll give you a head start. And then I’m going to fuck you, wherever I find you. Understood?” 

You can’t stop the whine that slips from your throat. “Y-Yes. Understood.” 

“Good.” He steadies you as you slide off the stool onto shaky legs. “Now run.” 

Your brain is several seconds behind, still stuck on the barely-contained growl in his voice and the way your skin shivers with goosebumps, but your body reacts immediately. Legs pumping, you take off through the crowd. Half-assed apologies tumble from you as you knock into people. You have no idea where you’re running to—you don’t even know how much of a head start he’s giving you. You just know you have to hide. Every instinct in you screams to run, to get to safety, to evade the burning gaze you can feel on your back even as you duck and weave between troopers.

You dash through an open doorway and skid to a halt, chest heaving with adrenaline. Before you lie several choices: a branching hallway filled with doors, an exit dead ahead, or a stairwell climbing up to a second-story exit. Glancing over your shoulder, you don’t see Hunter following yet. Part of you, a depraved, wholly needy part of you, wonders how much you should even try to hide—but an even more depraved part of you urges you to make it a challenge. How long will it take for him to find you if you try? 

Mind made up, you take the stairs two at a time and shove against the push-bar so the door swings open. But you don’t step through it. Instead, you let it shut on its own, then you turn and, emboldened by equal parts thrill and desire, you brace your hands on the metal bannister. Heaving yourself up over it, you try to keep as little contact with the railing as possible. 

Your stomach lurches as you drop the ten feet to the permacrete flooring. Thankfully, no joints sprain, and you don’t feel any pain in your shins from the impact. 

Unharmed and feeling pleased with yourself, you bolt through the ground-floor exit. 

Outside, the cool night air kisses your skin and wicks away the sweat that’s already gathered along your forehead. Head turning in either direction, you frantically search for someplace to hide. There’s the crystal forest, sure—but you don’t fancy getting poked with a thousand tiny shards like the ones you walked across when you arrived. You could sneak around the building and run back to the tiny spaceport. But that feels too...predictable. Why run when you can try to hide in plain sight?

To your right, a ladder leads up to the second-floor rooftop. Grabbing onto the cold rungs, you pull yourself up, hands and feet flying. You reach the top and, panting, survey your options. 

This rooftop is barren, save for the doorway you assume leads to the stairs you leapt off. But the next building over has several clusters of chairs and tables, tucked into the shadows of a decorative art piece that twists with elegant curves towards the cloud-studded sky. 

You go to take a step when an idea strikes you. You rip off your jacket, baring your arms to the chilled air, and drape it over the edge of the rooftop next to the ladder. Maybe the extra body heat, sweat, and scent clinging to the fabric will draw his attention and throw him off?

You slink to the closed doorway, then leap past it. You really have no idea how much of your scent you’re leaving behind, or what clues he’ll use to find you, but leaving as few footprints behind seems like a safe bet. Once you’re past the doorway, you break into a sprint again. The next-door rooftop isn’t too far, and after a relatively easy jump, you stumble toward the table tucked closest to the art piece. 

As quickly and quietly as you can, you crawl under the small, square table and arrange the chairs to block your body from view. It’s not perfect, by any means, but it’s the best you can do. 

And it’s not a moment too soon. The door on the other rooftop slams open. Hunter’s dark silhouette stalks out. Even from this distance, you can make out the way his head twitches back and forth as he tries to sniff out your trail. Clenching your jaw, you do your best to calm your labored breathing and urge your racing heart to slow. Anticipation trembles in your limbs.

Hunter jogs to the ladder and picks up your discarded jacket. He leans precariously over the edge of the roof, searching, and for a moment you think you’ve won. 

The wind shifts. 

Cool air sighing past you, you shiver as the sweat dries on your skin. A moment later, Hunter’s head snaps up, and he looks straight at you.

His teeth shine as he bares them in a dangerous smile.

“Oh kriff.”  

You gather your feet beneath you before you remember rule one: don’t run. All you can do is sit, frozen and shaking, beneath the would-be safety of the small table. Hunter prowls toward you. 

When he makes the jump between rooftops, you whimper, scrabbling backward until your shoulders bump against the swirling art piece, deeper into the shadows. You know it won’t help, but the darkness is comforting. Cold seeps into your bones even as your body alights once more with fresh arousal. Kark, have his shoulders always been so broad? 

He comes to a stop directly in front of the table you hide beneath. For a moment, you hold your breath, and the world around you seems to freeze. What is he waiting for? 

The table and chairs scatter with a crash as he yanks the furniture away from you. 

You yelp, surprised fear thrumming through your veins. Above you, standing tall and imposing, Hunter cocks his head at you. He tosses your jacket in your lap. 

“Nice trick,” he says. His voice grates against your skin, causing you to shiver. “Woulda worked if the wind hadn’t changed.” Then he shakes his head. “Well, it woulda worked for a moment. Could smell your cunt all the way over there.” 

He lowers until he crouches in front of you. In the faint starlight, his skull tattoo stands in stark relief, a terrifying visage of death. Your lips part as you pant with need. 

“Fuck, you have no idea how good you smell,” he murmurs. His dark gaze rakes over your cowering form, his tongue wetting his lips. “C’mere.” 

Clawed fingers wrapping around your ankles, he yanks you towards him. You yelp, body stretching flat, and he uses your momentary surprise to tear your pants from you. The fabric yields with a loud rrrrrrip, only to hang in tatters from your waist. 

“K-Kriff,” you swear. “Hunter—”

He shushes you gently. “Let me taste you.” 

He hooks one claw under the flimsy elastic band of your underwear and, with a sharp tug, the fabric snaps twice against your skin. When he peels back the ruined undergarment, you both groan at the faint, shimmery line of slick that pulls away with it. 

Like a man starved, Hunter presses your legs wide open and buries his face in your wet pussy. All concerns about your ruined clothes flee as soon as he licks through your folds. You cry out, pleasure rippling through you as his warm mouth envelopes your center. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you twist the fingers of one hand into his curls, holding his head against you. Your hips rock in pure reaction. Hunter growls, the noise vibrating against your clit. His eyes pierce yours, dark wells of lust and need. Your mouth falls open as you moan. The sounds of your pleasure bounce off the sculpture behind you.

“F-Fuck, Hunter!” you squeal as he sucks on your clit. 

He drags his nose through your folds, inhaling your sweet scent. “You’re soaked, mesh’la. Did you like running from me, huh? Liked running from the big bad wolf?” 

“Ye-e-e-es!” you keen, throwing your head back as he fucks you with his tongue. Deep in your belly, the molten lava of your desire begins to solidify into something more solid, something that promises bone-melting pleasure. 

Overhead, past the art installation, you watch with hazy eyes as the clouds drift lazily across the sky. Steadily, the night grows brighter. Though your upper body remains in shadow, your legs, and with them, Hunter, become bathed in silvery moonlight. 

Hunter’s grip on your thighs turns painful. His claws press a little too hard against your soft skin. Wincing, you snap your attention back to where Hunter’s mouth closes around your cunt. A moan punches out of your chest as you watch his eyes blink rapidly, shifting from lust-blown to golden and shining, alight with an intelligence that isn’t quite human. 

He shoves himself back from you, stumbling away, his entire body convulsing. “D-Don’t run,” is all he manages to grit out before—

Snap! 

You gasp, unable to do anything but watch with wide eyes as Hunter’s body violently contorts and transforms before you. His limbs elongate, knees bending unnaturally, ribs cracking as a new form tears itself out of his skin. Fear and desire chase each other through your body; you don’t know which one you feel most intensely.

With a deep, sonorous howl, the Hunter you know is replaced by a hulking wolven beast. Crouched on two legs, the werewolf pants heavily, staring down at massive, clawed hands. Hunter’s clothes hang off the beast in rags, shredded by the way his body swelled and grew during the transformation. But what strikes you the most is his fur. Dark gray fur, shot through with white streaks, falls in a shaggy coat all across his body. With a jolt you realize the white fur matches exactly the skeleton tattoo Hunter bears—in his wolf form, the tattoo is still humanoid, reflecting the person now trapped within.

“H-Hunter?” you ask, voice shaky and tentative. 

The wolf snaps his attention to you. Those bright, intelligent golden eyes lock onto yours as a snarl, animalistic and deep, tears from him, his teeth bared. His snout, rough and ridged, twitches as he scents you. Your legs remain open, slick folds still bared and glistening in the moonlight.

Dropping onto all fours, the werewolf sniffs the air again. Then, quicker than you can fully process, the wolf pounces. His claws dig into your sides as he drags you closer once more, a startled scream tearing from your throat. The sound only seems to encourage him. Growling deep in his chest, Hunter—the werewolf—he lowers his head and licks a stripe up your pussy. 

You gasp at the odd sensation. His tongue is long and rough against your sensitive skin, but you find it strangely pleasurable. A shudder runs up your body as the wolf laps at your dripping core; the heat simmering in your lower belly blazes back to life, a raging inferno of need blinding you to the fear of what this wolf really could do to you if he wanted. But you don’t dare move within his grasp.

You fight to keep your hips still as you watch the werewolf lick your cunt. Gasping for breath, you catch sight of something—something thick and red, hanging between his thighs. 

A groan claws out of you. “F-Fuck. Hunter, please.” 

Whether the werewolf understands you or not, you’re unsure, but he withdraws his mouth, the fur around his lips soaked with your juices. You heave a shuddering gasp as he hooks one large hand under your ass, angling your body. His other hand wraps around his large, throbbing cock. Watching in fascination, you moan as the slim, pointed tip drags through your soaked folds. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Please.” 

With another low growl, Hunter thrusts into you, burying his thick length to the hilt. You shout, pleasure and pain biting through you in equal measures, as he splits you open. Walls fluttering around the intrusion, you go boneless, forcing yourself to relax. 

Hunter sets a brutal, punishing pace. His cock reaches parts of you no one ever has before, stretching you in ways that you’re sure will ruin you for anyone else. High, heady moans tumble from you with every sharp thrust of his hips, your nipples pebbled in the cold night air. One of your hands squeezes the soft flesh of your breasts, the other snaking down between your bodies to circle around your clit. Pleasure spikes within you, orgasm drawing closer as you play with yourself. 

“G-Gonna—” You let out a choked moan. “Gonna cum.” 

Maybe the wolf does understand you, because he bares his teeth in a terrifying display, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Spit drools onto your heated skin. Gathering some of it on your fingers, you return to your clit to rub frantic circles there. 

Hunter adjusts the angle of your hips by a fraction, and you cum with a scream as he drives into that one devastating spot inside you. Back arching off the permacrete ground, your vision whites out as the wolf fucks you through your orgasm. Wave after wave after wave of pleasure crests over you, until you’re sobbing from overstimulation. 

Pushing with weak arms on the wolf’s chest, you somehow manage to get him to pull out of you, to give you a moment to catch your breath and recover. The wolf looms over you, panting and drooling. His cock twitches when you reach down to stroke the strange appendage.

“Good boy,” you mutter, leaning up to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. On a whim, you reach up to scratch behind one of his ears. The wolf’s eyes slide shut, a pleased hum vibrating in his chest.

Then his instincts seem to kick back in. With a huff, Hunter flips you, his nails scratching across the soft skin of your tummy. Chest pressed to the ground, ass in the air, you whine brokenly as he pushes his length into your tight heat once again. You rock your hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, mind melting into incoherency as he fucks against that shattered piece of heaven in your cunt. A second orgasm begins to build in your lower belly, and you desperately chase it, circling your clit once again. 

Hunter is getting close as well. His incessant growls are steadily becoming higher, more akin to whines than snarls. His claws dig into your flesh hard enough to break skin; tiny rivulets of blood slide down your front. You don’t care, just so long as he makes you cum again. Tears form in the corners of your eyes as your body winds tighter and tighter, orgasm threatening to pull you under at any moment. In your slick cunt, Hunter’s cock pulses, and seems to bulge. 

Then, without warning, he buries himself in you as deep as he can go. You cry out, body shuddering with pleasure as his cock—swelling and knotting—presses against your walls. You cum on his knot like that, squealing in delight, nerves obliterated and frayed as he cums with a howl. Knot pulsing, he paints your insides with ropes of hot cum that just don’t seem to stop. He fills you to the brim, and then some—you can feel his hot spend dripping down your thighs where it leaks out past his cock.

Slowly, Hunter begins to transform back into himself. His fingernails shrink, pulling the tips from your body. His fur dissolves into ash, and now against your back, his sweaty skin sticks to yours where he gasps for air. But his cock remains knotted in your cunt, both of you swollen and sensitive. 

You regain the ability to talk before he does. “H-Hunter. Hey. You okay?” 

He hums, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades. 

“I need a verbal answer,” you say between pants. 

“I’m—fuck, I’m good.” He pushes himself off you with shaky arms. But he remains kneeling behind you, locked in your tight walls. “Did I hurt you?” 

“Not in any way that I didn’t like,” you say. “Honestly kind of forgot about the panic button. Not that I wanted to use it,” you hurry to add. “That was... I don’t even have the words. ‘Amazing’ doesn’t cut it.” 

He chuckles, and the vibrations make you both moan. Your pussy clenches weakly around him. With warm, human fingers, Hunter squeezes the flesh of your ass and rocks you gently back and forth. 

“Oh stars,” you breathe. “I can’t, Hunter, it’s too much—”

“You can,” he murmurs. His hands help you move, each gentle thrust loosening the knot still swollen inside you. “You can take it, mesh’la.” 

Keening, your hands scrabble for purchase. Fingers wrapping around his wrists where he holds you, you crane your neck to look back at him over your shoulder. His face is sweaty, hair plastered to his skin, and his lips are flushed and swollen. His eyes are half-lidded and still dark with lust. In a word, he looks debauched. When his gaze meets yours, he smirks.

“That’s it,” he encourages, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips. “Just like that.” 

You cum again, preening under his praise despite the way your aching body screams for rest. This orgasm is slow, bone-deep and debilitating in its power. But the extra gush of slick is enough to push Hunter out of you. You both groan at the sensation of separating. 

“Look at that,” Hunter murmurs. When you glance back again, his eyes are transfixed on your cunt. His cum, all of it, wells up and spills out of your spent pussy. Seemingly without realizing it, he gathers some of the sticky substance and pushes it back into your cunt with his thumb. 

You hiss. He withdraws his hands, then tugs you up onto your knees and cradles you to his chest. “You did so well, mesh’la.” 

“You, too, Hunter,” you mumble against his skin. For a long while, the pair of you remain there, wrapped in a comforting embrace, until you chuckle. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks. 

“Our clothes are ruined,” you say. “How are we supposed to go anywhere?” 

He laughs with you, despite not having an answer. That’s alright, you think, it’s an excuse to get him into one of those rooms downstairs....

Ragu: @the-hexfiles @thorsterstrudle @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @dreamie411 @bobaprint @imarvelatthestars @originalcollectionartistry @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl @jedi-hawkins if your name has a strikethrough, I can't tag you so check your settings! (if you'd like to be added or removed, click here!)

[miguelswifey04]

May I request Miguel “The wilderness must be explored” O’Hara insisting on eating the reader out even though the reader hasn’t had time to go get their usual waxing done?

oh god yes! i love your brain 🧠 <3

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“relax, i don’t care if you’ve waxed or not.” miguel rolled his eyes in a playful manner as he gripped onto your plush thighs. his fingers were digging into the edges of your thighs as they dipped into the pillowy areas—leaving finger marks. you slightly closed your legs on his face as you felt your cheeks warm up at his comment.

“but—miguel, i really haven’t waxed wouldn’t that make you feel—” miguel cut you off as his grip loosened a bit and went up to meet your face as he gave you a soft kiss against your lips, “i promise you, i don’t care whether you have shaved or not. please let me taste you, sweetheart.” he reassured you multiple times as he promised you he didn’t mind at all. you simply nodded while you felt yourself get wetter as miguel traced hot hungry kisses on your breasts for more reassurance. he did so to ease your nervousness. he tore your bra off in one swift motion and he massaged your small perky breasts, bringing his face up close. he always praised for how beautiful and perfect you were in his eyes no matter what. he then took one breast in his hand while he latched his lips onto your other hardened peak. he suckled gently and harshly earning moans from your pretty mouth. he took his time with you as his main focused was to play and caresses your nipples. he loved how wet you’d get every time he’d give attention to your perky breasts, and with that miguel teasingly brought his hand down to your damp panties. he could feel how swollen your clit was as he gently circled your clit with your fingers in a teasing manner. your body trembled and jolted from the immense pleasure…it was pretty stimulating since you were always so sensitive.

“ah, sensitive as always, don’t worry you’ll be screaming my name when i eat you out.” miguel’s lips left your hardened peaks with a pop as he lowered himself down to your wet panties. god he could smell just how wet you were which made his cock harden and slightly twitch within the confines of his boxers. “you smell so good…”

with one hook of his fingers miguel brought your panties to the side seeing a few strings of your wetness connected to your panties. you were a mess and to say you were also nervous was an understatement. this was your first time miguel was going to eat you out where you haven’t shaved at all. miguel looks up at you with hungry and lust in his eyes. all you could do was nod giving him your permission to eat you out. so, miguel grabbed the back of your thighs angling your knees to meet your chest so he could have the perfect view of your hairy pussy. he couldn’t lie to himself the view of your hairy pussy made him harder than other times where you’ve shaved. his warm breath ghosting against your most intimate of areas. he could see the way your pussy and the tight hole of your ass clench around over nothing.

without hesitation, his tongue darts out to swipe along your folds, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. his movements are purposeful, his tongue skillfully exploring every sensitive spot, flicking and teasing with precision. “you taste so fucking good, muñeca.”

the sensation is electrifying, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. miguel’s devotion to your pleasure is evident in his fervent efforts, each lick and caress driving you closer to the edge. his hands wander, exploring your curves and guiding you towards the peak of ecstasy. while miguel laps up the excess juices that spilled out from your pussy, he brought his other hand where his thumb rubbed small gentle circles on your other hole. he would casually dip his thumb inside the tight hole of your ass as you moaned out his name. “mmm-mmiguel mmmmm, deeper-” he always liked to give you the upmost pleasure and he loved seeing you so weak under his control. he fingered your ass with his thumb while focusing on making out with your pretty hairy pussy.

moans of delight escape your lips as his skilled tongue brings you to the brink of release, the intensity building within you. the power and control you exert over miguel, even in this role reversal, fuels your desire further, heightening the pleasure coursing through your veins. he would dip a couple fingers inside your soaking pussy that was coated with his saliva as he continued to suck and circle his tongue against your clit. your thighs squeeze his face as he grunts over on your swollen clit.

as you reach your climax, you whole body convulses as you feel the warm rush of your essence coating miguel’s face. he continues to lap up your essence with unyielding dedication, his own desire evident in the way he devours every drop. he slightly let’s go of your legs as you meet his gaze. his chin is wet from your essence and he licks his fingers all clean right in front of you. “you always taste so good…but i’m not done with you wet.” your face contorts in a confused look as miguel brings you closer to the edge of the bed as he stands up right in front of you. “get ready because i can go for a couple rounds.”

———

a/n: good god 😩