#one day I will learn how to write decent smut and then it is over for you bitches

[auspicioustidings]

The Wild Prince

Blue Blood Part 1

Summary: You are the Duchess of a small Kingdom and your father trades you away for military aid.

@chai-isms made the mistake of saying they liked a royalty AU and this... sort of didn't turn out anything like I had actually planned 😂 So sort of royalty AU ish? Maybe? IDK it's basically just shameless smut.

Word Count: 2.6k

CW: Mention of abuse, smut

Part 2

At least they hadn't put you in a dungeon you had thought at first, but after a month this room was driving you mad. The servant that delivered you food would not talk with you, would not answer any of your questions about what was going to happen to you.

The war had been raging for two years, but it had been a far away thing at the start. It was something so totally removed from your life in your father's castle that you weren't even fully aware that your side had been losing. It was only when he had returned six months ago and the way he looked at you had changed that alarm bells sounded in the back of your mind. While you may have not had a mother to tell you of such things, you knew enough from the gossiping of the servants when they thought you were not listening that you were of age to marry and as you were on only child, your father should try and make a match.

It made you bristle a little to think of. You managed the household well, was it so important that it must have a man at the head when he was gone? 

And then the war had come to linger in your home, blanketing your days with the unease of something being kept from you. When your father had them pack you up into a carriage you raged at him, only earning a backhand straight across your cheek that left an angry mark, a thin line in the middle of the bruise from his ring having split the flesh. He had growled that this marriage was how you could finally be good for something, informing you then that he had remarried and his new wife was expecting a child. It had put you in a state of numb shock that lasted for the whole week of travel.

You had tried your whole life to be worthy of your family name, to be a good daughter. It had been for nothing. Your father was sending you off as some sort of bargaining chip to give him an edge in this war and there was not one thing that you could do about it. 

Now you could only pass your days gazing out of the window and wondering where on earth you were. If only you hadn't been in such a daze, had actually taken some study of your surroundings when you had arrived. You had been taken to the room in this tower immediately on your arrival, hardly able to discern what was happening through your hazy misery. There had been people around you knew, you remembered somewhat foggily a thumb dragged across the fading mark on your cheek. A low growl, a bitten off curse. 

As the night fell you sighed at the sound of the bath being drawn for you in the other room. This was the routine, every second night a bath was drawn for you, candle light dancing across the water when you sunk down into that wet heat. The servant would be gone and you would bathe alone. After a lifetime of having maids scrub at you it was strange at first, but peaceful in a way. 

Tonight was much the same, your muscles relaxing as you let your head roll back and closed your eyes. The sound of someone entering startled you, opening your eyes slowly to look over. You had been prepared to see the meek servant, not a young man dressed regally who did not seem the least bit concerned that he had walked in on you in such a vulnerable and improper state. 

You didn't yelp, the noise caught in your throat. Instead you curled in on yourself, trying to hide any view of the delicacies of your body from his gaze. He walked closer, kneeling by the bath so he was so close that you could smell the orange oil from his fingers. 

"Do you know who I am?" he asked with a gallant smile. It was as if he was some potential suitor at a revelry instead of a stranger in your bathing chambers.

You shook your head, feeling like the water had turned to freezing and locked up all of your muscles. He was handsome in a way that bordered on overwhelming, the brown of his skin and eyes catching the light from the candles to make him almost seem holy in the way he glowed. 

"My name is Kyle Garrick" he said and you felt the panic you had been holding down burst out of you.

Kyle Garrick, the 3rd Prince of the largest Kingdom on the continent, the one that bordered your tiny Kingdom to the East. People called him the Wild Prince, the one who should never have been legitimised. Prince Garrick was not the Queen's son, his mother was a Princess of a conquered kingdom who the King had grown fond of, his favourite concubine. They said that the war hero and King's right hand, Duke John Price, had trained the Wild Price himself. The Duke had won countless battles that changed the fortunes of the Kingdom with Prince Garrick by his side. They said the Duke's men were all monsters of some sort or other. The Wild Prince. The Ghost. The Blood Druid. The men were practically fairy stories to someone like you, not living and breathing people that you might one day meet. 

"Y-your royal highness! Please forgive my rudeness" you cried, head snapping down in supplication. You were a nobody to a Prince, some minor Duchess in a tiny bordering Kingdom. To be naked in front of him was wrong on so many levels. 

He laughed and the warmth of it sent shivers down your spine and tears to your eyes. Your eyes were fixed on the water as his fingers started to dip into it, moving back and forth and coming dangerously close to your legs still pinned to your chest.

"Look at me Duchess" he said and you found yourself giving a quick shake of your head. How could you look at him? You were shaking, naked, completely unworthy to be in his presence. 

"I said look at me" he ordered, your chin roughly pulled up with the hand not playing with the water near your legs. Gone was the gallant smile, his eyes now dancing with the amusement of a predator playing with their prey, your own eyes widening when you felt the brush of his fingers on your bare shin. The hand on your chin moved your head to the side.

"Good, your cheek has healed up. Couldn't have you getting married with a marked up face now could we?"

You didn't know what he wanted you to say. You were desperate to be anywhere but here, his presence was oppressive, bearing down on you and making your insides feel like they were fizzing. You had never felt so vulnerable. He didn't seem to mind your silence, only smirking and running his fingers up your shin more deliberately, taking delight in the way your pupils dilated and your breathing hitched. 

"That little bitch on the throne is blocking me from granting Ghost a proper title, I can imagine her face when she realises he's married the sole noble of the Western territory."

You could barely concentrate and he ran his hand up and down your leg, cresting over your knee occasionally causing the brush of his pinky against the swell of your breasts. That fizzing heightened and you involuntarily shifted, feeling a jolt between your legs from the friction of squeezing them together. You tried to focus, to keep your eyes on him and actually find out what was going on. If the whole situation wasn't already wildly improper you were sure you would have reacted with more horror at him addressing the Queen of this nation as a little bitch.

"I don't... Western territory? I am sorry your Royal Highness, I'm only a Duchess of the Kingdom to the West. I'm not a noble of any of the territories here," you said, not able to keep your voice even and instead hearing the breathlessness of it floating through the steam. 

"There is no Kingdom to the West Duchess, not after the Duke dared to mark what wasn't his to touch," the Prince cooed, as if it wasn't something world shattering to have said. Your Kingdom had been fighting a war with another small Kingdom for years only to be conquered in the space of a month. For you. They had conquered a whole Kingdom because of a mark on your cheek. 

You were overwhelmed, heart beating violently fast and frozen muscles going pliant. Plaint enough for him to apply pressure and shift your legs a little so they weren't completely pinned against your chest, allowing his exploration to continue past your knee and to your thigh. You heard a desperate whimper on the air, confused when you realised a second after it must have come from you. 

The Prince chuckled, shifting his body so that he could guide your head to his shoulder, holding a hand to your hair to keep you there. Your hands came to cling to his shirt, soaking it. You didn't know what was happening to you and it was grounding to be able to bury your face into him, cutting off your sight so you could try and get a handle of your other senses.

"That's it Duchess, just relax yeah? Ghost doesn't want to break you on your wedding night, so we're going to work on getting you nice and ready for him until then" he whispered right behind your ear. 

You didn't know what he meant. Nobody had ever prepared you for what happened on the wedding night, until a month ago you hadn't even known you were to be married so soon. When his hand finally dipped between your legs to cup at you there you cried out, tears spilling over at the new sensation. 

"Gods you've never-" he growled lightly, only stopping himself when he felt you tense to pause and readjust his voice to be gentler as he carefully ran a finger up your slit. "Bet they told you it was a sin, that you couldn't touch yourself here" he groaned when he felt the change in texture from water to arousal. 

They had their work cut out for them getting you ready for the Hunt. MacTavish would oversee the ritual of it obviously, would massage the divine oils into your flesh and dress you properly to be released into the woods after the wedding ceremony. When Ghost hunted you down and took what was rightfully his it would seal the marriage in the eyes of the old Gods, but he would be in a frenzy from the incense, incapable of preparing you properly in his pursuit of sinking into your heat and marking you his from the inside. So they would have to do what they could for you beforehand, spend the next week before the ceremony doing everything to keep you wet and wanting.

Kyle, clear headed and not under the influence of any of Johnny's bloody Druid smokes or potions, already found it hard to keep calm. The noises you were making, it was like a challenge being presented to him to get you to make more. Get you boneless and begging for it. When he started to make firm circles on your clit he got unbearably hard at the broken moan spilling from your lips as your hips started to move.

You felt like you were standing on the top of a tower looking over the edge, your stomach in knots. You had been told it was sinful to touch yourself in this way and in your efforts to be only the best daughter you could be you had taken heed and never tried. But this? Gods it was setting you ablaze. You could feel your insides clenching on nothing, feel your hips lifting to push against his fingers. He was speaking absolute sin into your ear and it made every sensation more intense, sending pulses of pleasure straight down to your core.

"Doing so well Duchess, pretty little clit taking it so well. Doesn't it feel good?"

You whined incoherently. You were desperate for something you couldn't name, feeling incomplete.

"I know Duchess, I know. Beautiful cunt wants something to clench on, greedy little thing" he said, fingers leaving your clit to trace down and circle your entrance, teasing with just the tip of his finger pushing against you before he growled and returned to your clit with renewed vigour. "You're going to cum for me. You're going to cum just like this tonight and tomorrow I'll make sure you get a finger inside to squeeze yeah? Fuck love going to get you to beg for my tongue, get Price to teach you how to ask real nice for it."

You couldn't really focus on the words anymore, too lost in the approaching crest of this wave. Kyle was mostly saying them for himself now anyway, hips rutting away against the side of the tub to try and get some relief. 

The orgasm was the most intense thing you recalled ever feeling, body going taught like a bowstring as the Prince brought you through it with his fingers. Your whole body felt like it had been flooded with sensation and then all at once you were boneless, limbs dead weights.

"Good girl Duchess."

You were shivering now, the water having cooled. When his hand left the water you went to move your head, but his other hand kept it there. You could hear the sound of skin on skin, his hot breath at your ear getting heavier and more strained before the sound stopped after a loud groan from him. You weren't sure what was going on, but it made you tingle a little again between your legs. 

His hand returned to the water, dipping in and out a few times before he finally let your head out from his shoulder. The dim light hurt your eyes after so long in darkness and before you could try and ask him what had just happened he scooped you out of the tub, not caring that he was getting his clothing completely soaked in the process.

The next 10 minutes were confusing and blurry in your mind, him drying you off and dressing you for bed like he was a servant rather than the Prince of a Kingdom that had just conquered yours. He tucked you in, bade you goodnight and made his way to the door. 

You thought that was it until he paused, tensed. Was he going to reveal that this had been a test and you had failed? Were you about to be thrown out? You had never felt so thoroughly ruined and anxious before. What did he want from you?

Kyle knew he shouldn't, but fuck it, what was the use in being a Prince if he couldn't indulge in the small things every once in a while. He whirled around, marched back to you in the bed and pressed a hard kiss to your lips before leaving again, making sure to lock the door behind him. Price was leaning on the wall in the hallway waiting for him, raising an eyebrow when taking in the absolute state Kyle was in.

"Fine" Kyle sighed, "I admit that this was a good idea, you were right and I should never have doubted you and your magnanimity. Happy?"

"Cheeky today Gaz?"

"Nah, just taking the piss. It was a good call Sir, she'll be good for Ghost."

He licked his lips on his way to his chambers and felt a rush of heat at the taste of you lingering there. Not just Ghost he thought.

[drunk-on-dk]

[Teaser] Over the Country Club | Yoon Jeonghan (M)

pairing: best friend!Jeonghan x afab!reader genre/tags: fluff, angst, smut (minors do not interact), friends to lovers, a bit of unrequited love, a slice of life au, college au, post-grad au rating: 18+ (minors do NOT interact) w/c: ~3k TEASER (estimated ~15-20k for full fic, currently this may be my longest fic yet and it feels so good to really be writing again) warnings: mentions of alcohol (underage is not condoned), future smut

Summary: Jeonghan and you have known each other for as long as you can both remember. From the years spent working at the country club, to your university days, there has always been this aching feeling that neither of you can quite understand. Someone falls first, but the other falls harder.

A/N: Please let me know your thoughts on this teaser! I've been working hard to get back into writing in the new year and wanted to get comfortable with diving more into the plot. Things may change when the full fic is posted, but not much of what's in the teaser! I hope you enjoy it, and of course please message me if you'd like to be on the tag list for this fic!

I. 4th of July, the Summer Before the First Year of University

Just like every other high school student in your town, Jeonghan and you found part-time jobs at the oh-so-prestigious country club located in the next town over. One could argue it was practically a full-time job since most part-timers worked upwards of 40 hours a week due to how busy the club got during the summers. 

Not that you would complain about the hours; to be fair, you had to save up a substantial amount of money for the upcoming transition to college. The realization hit soon after graduating high school, you only had enough pocket change to fund some expenses,  which was not nearly enough to get you comfortably through the upcoming semesters. You had worked at the club most summers, but this year you took all the hours they offered. 

Plus, you’d be crazy to admit that summers working at the Lakewood Country Club weren’t some sort of fun. Plenty of your peers worked there, including Jeonghan, your longest lasting friendship due to the proximity of living next door to one another and growing up attached at the hip. 

Jeonghan worked as a caddie on the golf course. He’s gentlemanly in appearance, has just enough knowledge about what type of club to use at each hole, and has a never-ending spunk that entertains whatever group of golfers he’s assisting for the day. Jeonghan made decent tips working as a caddie, earning a couple of hundred dollars from some of his return golfers who specifically requested his assistance for an 18-hole outing. One could assume that most members of the country club were very well-off, or at least living comfortably. 

Luckily, you were stationed at the halfway house most days this summer. It’s located in the heart of the golf course, and the club consistently blasted cool air conditioning in the exposed, open bar area that was meant for golfers to stop by. Jeonghan, as scheming as ever, would ensure that his golfers stopped by for a quick refreshment at some point, knowing that he’d get to spend some time with you and help you earn some extra cash in tips from his already rowdy crew. 

You’d mix up some Manhattans or Old-Fashioned’s for the golfers, knowing the usual orders for each club member as if they had been engrained on the back of your hand (in hindsight, a freshly graduated high schooler should not have been pouring alcoholic beverages, but the country club didn’t care - your labor was cheaper than hiring a professional tender and you learned just the basics just fine). Nonetheless, your cocktails were a treat for the golfers who had been drinking beers for most of the course, most of them lukewarm or gone by the time they made it to the halfway house. 

Today is the Fourth of July, marking the mid-way point of your last summer before college. You had made your fair share of tips this summer working at the halfway house, especially due to Jeonghan’s consistent sourcing of clientele at your bar. It was a particularly hot day, one of the hottest of the summer and plenty of customers had stopped by, leaving hefty tips, feeling generous either from the heat or the holiday. 

Jeonghan approached the bar area with a heavy sigh, parking his cart hastily, but still had his typical mischievous smile etched onto his features as a crowd of familiar golfers followed behind him. Your nose scrunched in feigned disgust, a teasing smile mirroring his upon noticing just how tired and sweaty the group was from the relentless summer heat. 

Part of you thought he looked angelic from the way his sun-kissed skin gleamed, but you’d never admit that, nor would you dare to speak those thoughts out loud, not even to your closest friends who weren’t Jeonghan. However, the other part of you remembered he was just your silly best friend who smelled slightly like fresh-cut grass, sunscreen, and a hint of whatever remained of his tropical cologne. 

“The usuals?” You beamed, flashing your best customer service smile at the group, already reaching for the bottle of top-shelf whiskey displayed behind you. You received hoots and hollers along the lines of “Yes, please” from the group. Jeonghan slips behind the bar as you expertly begin to prepare drinks for the parched golfers. Normally, this was frowned upon, but Jeonghan had most of the country club supervisors wrapped around his finger. 

Jeonghan’s quick to sort through the fridge right off to your side, squatting and contemplating his options, but you have to smack his hand away from the cooler once you notice his deft fingers are reaching for a plastic shooter of whiskey.

“Y/N,” Jeonghan practically cries out, whining similar to a little boy being scolded, but he’s just your immature best friend who has a knack for trouble and stealing. You can’t always let him get away with everything. 

“You kleptomaniac, don’t you dare,” you joke, routinely preparing the drinks, laughing at the puppy dog eyes that are flashed in your direction and then back to the cold fridge. You bend down next to him, whispering quietly so that no one but Jeonghan can hear. “Wait until later, today’s manager has been keeping inventory of the alcohol as if they personally own it all. I can sneak some after my shift when I cash out.” 

Jeonghan’s pout morphs into a smirk, a devious glint in his eyes as he holds out his pinky finger. You comply, wrapping your pinky with his to silently promise that you’ll follow through later. 

“Meet at hole 12? Right at the hill behind the trees? It’s still the best spot for fireworks.” Jeonghan speaks as if it’s a secret mission - as if it’s not the same spot you’ve met to watch fireworks for the last few years working at the country club. 

“Oh, I thought we’d check out the views at hole 17 this year,” you roll your eyes mockingly, Jeonghan knows you’re messing with him, but it’s your smile that betrays your teasing, “Duh, Jeonghan. I’ll catch you there later.” 

“You know hole 17 is where Mingyu and Arin lost their virginity to each other last year,” Jeonghan pokes, settling on bottled water from the fridge and standing back up, towering over your own figure. You feel your cheeks flush, a bit flustered he’d drop that information so casually, and sure as hell hoping he didn’t think that you were suggesting anything. 

You didn’t see Jeonghan in that way, he didn’t see you in that way. Plain and simple. You two were only best friends and that’s how it would always be. 

“That’s gross, Jeonghan,” you scowl, willing away the blush that is still burning your face as you finish garnishing the drinks. “Don’t air out people’s secrets like that. That’s personal. Plus, why would I know that?” 

Jeonghan chuckles, shrugging as he helps you carry the drinks over to the golfers who have made themselves comfortable among the shaded seating outside the bar area, an outdoor fan helping cool them down. They all clamor in delight as Jeonghan and you emerge from behind the bar with the chilled drinks, quick to "cheers" each other before savoring the first sip of their beverages. 

There are smacks and sighs of delight from the group, your pride growing as they approve of the drinks, and gather up some cash for a tip. Jeonghan nudges you, urging you to accept the bills from Mr. Choi, a polite older man who continues to take care of Jeonghan and you each summer. He’s never been creepy, and he tips very well. You still feel slightly guilty each time you accept cash from him. 

“Thank you, Mr. Choi,” you speak graciously, accepting the tip, quickly shoving it into your pocket without checking the amount, and earning an approving thumbs up from the man as he takes another sip of his cocktail. 

“Save it wisely, Y/N,” Mr. Choi chimes, humming in thought, and eyes flickering between where you and Jeonghan stand. “Jeonghan tells me you’re both attending the same university in a few months. Heard you’ve both received a pretty good scholarship, even one from the club?” 

“That is correct, sir,” you nod excitedly. Not only had you both received an academic scholarship from your university, but all your years working at the club have paid off in a way you wouldn’t have imagined, earning a scholarship from the Lakewood Country Club members' foundation. “I am grateful to have received such an award. Don’t worry, I’ll make good use of it. I know Jeonghan will too. You’d never guess, but he’s a straight A student,” you tease, hiding your mouth only for Mr. Choi to see as if Jeonghan can’t hear you, and elbowing your friend in the rib cage, earning a pained groan from him. 

Mr. Choi nods in approval, a smile creeping onto his face as he chuckles at the dynamic between you two. “Glad to know my money is going towards two bright futures.” Jeonghan is pushing your bony elbow away, annoyed at your enthusiasm and teasing, further amusing Mr. Choi. “Jeonghan, make sure you don’t lose sight of Y/N during University, all sorts of partners will be chasing her. She’s intelligent and beautiful. Don’t want her forgetting about you now, do you?”

Jeonghan would groan if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Mr. Choi speaking to him. He has to restrain himself from shoving you away as well, knowing that Mr. Choi has inflated your ego a bit too much with his praise. Nonetheless, Jeonghan plays into it. “Nope, she’s stuck with me, so don’t even worry about it.”

You almost laugh out loud, reminding yourself to remain professional on the course as you fire back. “As if, Jeonghan couldn’t get rid of me even if he wanted to.” 

“Valid point,” Jeonghan grumbles, teasingly pushing you back towards the bar as if reminding you of your duties, sick of hearing the constant praise that only you’re receiving, even though there have been no additional visitors since Jeonghan’s entourage of golfers arrived. He’s quick to enthusiastically round up the crew, realizing daylight will quickly dwindle by the last hole if they don’t start back up soon. “Welp, we better let Y/N continue to work. Ready for hole 10?” 

The men are quick to gather, knocking back the remainder of their drinks, and returning to their carts as Jeonghan helps you clean up the finished glasses, your shoulders bumping into each other as you two push your way back into the bar. Mr. Choi sends a knowing look Jeonghan’s way, neither of you catching it as he wishes you a nice Fourth of July. 

“Thank you, Mr. Choi!” You wave to the man, bidding the rest of the golfing crew a nice holiday as well before turning to Jeonghan who’s finished carrying over the rest of the empty glasses. “Catch you later, Hannie?”

“Of course,” Jeonghan’s eyes lit up yet again upon hearing his childhood nickname, and is reminded of the nearing shenanigans later this afternoon. Maybe he’ll steal some snacks from the members gifting table for tonight. “I’ll see you then stay cool, Y/N!”

“You as well! Make sure to reapply your sunscreen,” you shout back, watching as Jeonghan hops in the cart with Mr. Choi and rolls his eyes at your nagging. Mr. Choi gets one final laugh before Jeonghan drives off, the entourage of golfers following closely behind. 

You’re finishing cleaning up the bar, pulling the cash from your pocket earlier and gasping upon realizing just how much Mr. Choi had tipped you. A five-hundred dollar tip. It was surely the most you’ve ever made in one round of drinks, absolutely unwarranted, and it made you feel a bit teary-eyed. You knew you couldn’t dare to return it, as Mr. Choi would definitely be offended, but you felt extremely lucky to have such nice members visit you at the halfway house, you’d have to thank him eventually. 

The rest of the day went quickly, and, much to your delight, you had made enough tips to support a chunk of your tuition and expenses for the year. Also, your manager had swapped shifts with another supervisor mid-day, who was not as hawklike. 

Leading up to the completion of your shift, you had snuck a pair of alcoholic shooters into your uniform skirt. Even in your attempt to be rebellious, you couldn’t just steal the shooters, using some of your tip money to cover the cost of the alcohol and you felt less criminal. You knew Jeonghan would tease you relentlessly about this if he was here, each shooter was no more than $3 each, but you had a knack for doing the “right thing,” or else you feared karma would get you in the long run. 

Upon reaching the end of your shift, you stopped back at the employee locker room to safely store your tips in your purse. The day had been hot, but it was cooling down now that night was approaching. 

Ultimately, you opt to throw on a sweatshirt, one that Jeonghan had purchased when you two had toured your university, which was the same one that he’d worn so many times that it’s the most comfortable piece of clothing you own. One that he couldn’t deny you of when you begged to keep it, secretly thinking that you looked cute in it even though you were practically swimming in the fabric. Disgusted that he’d even thought that, he dismissed you quickly and said you could keep it. 

The sun was setting minute by minute, meaning that Jeonghan’s shift would be finishing very soon, and you packed away the remainder of your items in your employee locker, double-checking that your skirt still had the tiny plastic alcohol bottles hidden away. 

After confirming you had said shots, you headed out to hole 12 with a spring in your step. It was a meeting spot you and Jeonghan had found your summer after freshman year of high school. There was a hill behind a bunch of trees that overlooked the valley where the main portion of the country club was located. No one was allowed on the course during after-hours, but this spot was so dark and secluded that you two hadn’t been caught yet. It was also the prime viewing spot for the club’s fireworks show, and it was your little secret. 

You were first to make it to the spot, plopping down on the hill and huffing in relief. Your legs ached a little from standing all day. The grass beneath you was dewy from the cool nighttime air, the humid heat from the day settling on the greenery, and it was almost enough to make you feel itchy. However, you don’t mind it, not when you have the fireworks show to look forward to. You would never mind the damp grass, especially not when you had a favorite summer tradition to share with your favorite person, your best friend. 

Jeonghan’s shift ended a bit later than yours, but he didn’t arrive at the spot much later than you. He meant to grab a bag of popcorn or something, but he didn’t want to leave you hanging for too long. 

Jeonghan tried to sneak up on you, but you’re too smart, too knowing of his antics. So when you turn around knowingly, with two opened Whiskey shooters in hand, he chuckles almost maniacally at your annoyed expression that doesn’t fully translate into your impish eyes. You two were one and the same. 

“What are you waiting for, Hannie? These shots aren’t getting any colder. Not when they’ve been in my skirt for the past hour.”

“Eugh, now you’re the one oversharing,” Jeonghan groans in disapproval, sitting down next to you on the grass, and gratefully accepting the shot regardless of your TMI comment. Your knees knock each other as you turn to face him, but a friendly touch isn’t foreign to either of you. “You’re the gross one, Y/N.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you giggle, holding the shot out in front of him and teasingly shaking the plastic bottle. You sing song, “The night’s not getting any younger either.”  

Nodding in acknowledgment, Jeonghan smirks and shares a few words, “Cheers to our last summer before we’re miserable college students. Cheers to fewer hours spent in the heat at this country club. Cheers to our everlasting friendship.” 

With his final words, you’re both knocking back your shots, groaning in unison as the spicy drink burns and settles in your stomach, instantly warming your body at the sensation. Your face scrunches up at the taste and Jeonghan can’t help but laugh uncontrollably.

“Stop it,” you whine, your voice a bit hoarse from the alcohol but smiling nonetheless. “You aren’t any better than me. Anyways, that's enough for me tonight.”

“True,” Jeonghan contemplates, but he’s quick to poke you. “But I didn’t struggle as bad as you did.” 

“Touché,” you hum, nudging Jeonghan’s shoulder excitedly as a warning firework darts into the sky, indicating the show will be beginning shortly. “It’s starting!” 

“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan is groaning at your bony elbow yet again digging into him, but he’s delighted by your excitement regardless, shoving you back as you begin to readjust for the show. “Calm down, it’s nothing crazy.” 

“No, Jeonghan,” you grin, turning your head to fully make eye contact with his wide eyes, joy flickering in your own as you peer at your best friend. “It’s nothing crazy, but it’s absolutely so special because once again we get to enjoy it here together.” 

Your emphasis on the word together almost makes him shiver, a foreign feeling rushing through him as you continue to gaze at him with those wild eyes of yours, gulping as he hesitantly nods, even though he wholeheartedly agrees it is special, but he’s not exactly sure why. “Very true,” and as if on cue, the fireworks show begins, relief flooding through him as you redirect your gaze and squeal in excitement. 

Jeonghan doesn’t understand why, but his heart pounds in his chest throughout the entire show. He thinks maybe it’s the alcohol (you and he rarely have dared to sneak alcohol before), maybe it’s the overstimulation of the fireworks, maybe it’s the thrill of knowing the golf course guards could spot you any year and escort you away, or maybe it’s the way your knee keeps brushing his thigh reminding him of just how close you two are. How much you are together here alone, just like every other summer. 

It’s a feeling he decides to ignore for the rest of the fireworks, letting himself lay back on the damp grass with you and listening as you enthusiastically point out your favorite fireworks, bickering with you when he thinks a different type of firework is prettier. 

It’s a feeling he continues to ignore as the finale comes and goes, chest fluttering at the way your eyes sparkle with golden reflections of the fireworks in the sky, and once again quickly redirecting his gaze to anything but you. 

It’s a feeling he tries his damnedest to ignore as you both continue to lay in the grass post-fireworks. Neither one of you making the first move to go home. Maybe you thought this would be the final moment of normalcy between you and Jeonghan before starting university, knowing that all friendships are bound to change with such a new chapter. Maybe he thought he’d figure out whatever it was he was feeling if he just stayed here with you a moment longer. 

It’s a feeling he struggles to ignore as you both fall into deep conversation. The one shot of alcohol makes you both loose-lipped as you reminisce on embarrassing high school stories. Reminiscing on your shitty boyfriend who broke up with you before the summer. Reminiscing on your years of friendship. 

It’s a feeling he no longer can ignore when you roll over, lips pouting and eyes teary as you start to feel emotional about your recent breakup. Something in him feels like it shatters when you ask, “Have you ever been in love before, Hannie?” 

[die-pink-maus]

A Weekend in Vienna 🇦🇹

While vacationing in Germany, Chantelle’s (OC) best friend, Adrian (also an OC), books an impromptu trip to Vienna to visit extended family. Chantelle decides to join her for the last few days of her trip, where she meets an interesting friend of Adrian’s family who offers to show the two around the city for the weekend🤭

TW: Pretty much none, not for this chapter anyway, but things will get 🌶️spicy🌶️ in the next parts. Also there is an age gap between OC and König, she is 25 and he is about 36-37.

CW: FemOCs, female pronouns used, while both characters are technically OCs please feel free to imagine them however you’d like, ultimately the main character is the reader, I just didn’t want to use “Y/N” so I gave them names 🙈

Word Count: 1,516

*DISCLAIMER*

This is my first time EVER writing any kind of fan fiction so please go easy on me 😭 if you like where things are going, likes and reblogs would be greatly appreciated! If you’d like to see anything in particular in the next part or part(s), I’d love to hear it!

This version of König is based on the above interpretation drawn by @lettaniko (I hope you don’t mind me using it! I absolutely love this drawing it’s perfect! 🫶🏼)

I like a nice build up to the smut so if you like to get right into it this is probably not going to be for you…but if you can wait I it out I promise it’ll be worth it 😂

Enjoy! 💋

7:30am. There’s approximately 30 minutes before my train departs for Vienna, and I still haven’t reached the train station yet. I scrambled as I dashed out of my hotel room, hoping I’d left the place in a somewhat decent state and I hadn’t forgotten anything valuable as got into the elevator. I’ve been exploring Munich for the past two weeks and I’ve been having the absolute time of my life. Although traveling alone can be quite scary, oddly enough, I’ve never felt more at home. Munich is such a vibrant city, filled with all kinds of exciting things to do and I’ve met so many incredible people, it’s definitely been the experience of a lifetime. To say that I am not looking forward to going back home to Vancouver would be an understatement, but all good things must come to an end. I’d spent about a year and a half learning to speak German, and promised myself that I would plan a trip in celebration of achieving fluency, so here I am! Now, Vienna wasn’t initially on my list of places to visit when I decided to come to Germany, but my best friend, Adrian, ended up booking a spur of the moment flight last week to visit extended family in Austria and suggested I come hangout with her during the last few days of my trip. Seeing as its only a 3-4hr train ride from Munich, I figured why the hell not! I’ve heard Vienna is beautiful, and Im at all not opposed to exploring another city.

Upon arrival at the train station in Vienna I was greeted by Arian, excitedly jumping up and down while holding up a large white sign that read “Willkommen in Wien, Schlampe!” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, laughing as I got off the train and ran over to her, tackling her in a tight embrace as she laughed hysterically. “Did you have to let the whole station know that I’m a bitch or…?”

“Honestly, they should’ve known the moment they saw you.” She said jokingly. “How was the ride over?” She asked.

“Amazing, I haven’t slept that well in years. It also didn’t feel like a 4 hour train ride.”

“Trains in out here are quite quick so I wouldn’t be surprised if it somehow took less time. They definitely shit on the ones we have back home.”

“Oh for sure.” I agreed as we began walking over to the car.

“So a family friend of ours just came back from a mission in the states, he’s in the military bee tee dubs —“

“Yeah kinda pieced that together when you said ‘mission’.” I chuckled.

“I don’t drive out here so he’s gonna give us a ride back to my aunts, cool?”

“Sounds good.”

“He’s also a lot more familiar with Vienna than I am, so he offered to show us around a bit later on this evening.” Aw how nice of him. Knowing Adrian, the first place she’ll want to be taken to is the nearest bar, that girl can drink! If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time in Germany, and my 10 years of friendship with Adrian, it’s that Europeans love their liquor. There are people from all parts of Europe in Germany and that’s one thing that remains quite consistent across the board. I also love my liquor, which is probably why I ended up fitting in so well.

We finally arrived at the car and opened the trunk to begin loading all of my luggage inside. I’d brought a small carryon suitcase, a duffle bag, as well as a large suitcase that was full of clothes I’d over packed from home, and a bunch of other clothes and souvenirs I’d bought in Munich. “Okay this one’s gonna be a tad heavy.” I warned as Adrian grabbed hold of the handle on the top. I reached forward to try to help her lift, but neither of us could manage the weight. “I got it.” His voice was low, but gentle. He had an accent, but it wasn’t overwhelming or harsh, nor did it make anything he said hard to understand. I wasn’t expecting to see the person I saw when I’d finally caught a glimpse of him…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man like this in my entire life. Adrian and I stepped back as he grabbed hold of the suitcase, lifting it with absolute ease, as if it were light as a feather. His arm muscles bulged within the confines of his olive green long sleeved shirt as he tossed the suitcase inside the trunk. My heart began to race, It felt as if I was watching him move in slow motion. “Easy peasy.” He smirked as he turned around and looked down at me, his dazzling dark blue eyes awash with amusement at Adrian and I’s prior struggle. Jesus Christ…This man is an absolute unit. He’s gotta be at least 6 foot 7, if not taller. He’s incredibly easy on the eyes in a rough and rugged kinda way — a nice low trimmed beard, medium length dark brown hair, and a smile that is captivatingly dangerous to say the least. His presence alone exudes a confidence that causes me to grow weak in the knees. “I’m König,” he smiled knowingly as he stretched his hand out towards me. I know I’m definitely not the first woman to look at him the way I am. Even though I’m trying to keep my composure, it’s very clear that he can see right through it. “And you must be Chantelle?” He asked, eyes slowly roaming about my frame from head to toe. He bites his lip slightly as they return to my gaze, suggesting so much without saying any words at all. “I — yes.” I blushed, sheepishly brushing my hair behind my ear as I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He said. “Oh yeah, König Chantelle, Chantelle König.” Adrian yelled from the backseat. He laughed and shook his head as he closed the trunk.

We arrived at Adrian’s aunts house about 45 minutes later. König helped us load all of my things into the foyer before letting us know he’d be coming back in a few hours to take us out to this bar that he and a few of his buddies on his task force frequent whenever they’re home. I’ve been thinking about him ever since he left — those mysterious blue eyes, the way he slightly bites his lower lip just before laughing at something ridiculous Adrian has said, the way his arm muscles swell beneath his shirt with the slightest movement…God, he’s sexy. I could think of a million different ways I’d want him to ruin me. The thought alone of being trapped beneath his large brawny frame writhing in pleasure as he thrusts into me over and over has me clenching around nothing. Though I’m not usually one for a one time fling, I have a feeling he’d be able to convince me. “So, you wanna tell me what all of that was about?” Adrian asked as she helped me settle into the guest room. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Since when are you a shy girl?” She giggled. Sigh. I figured she was referencing my unusual silence during the car ride over here. “He’s hot as fuck but I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Ugh!” I groaned as I covered my face with a pillow. She’s right. I’m not very easily intimidated. I’m quite the confident woman and I ensure everyone in the room knows it, but this was different. Almost as if our energies were fighting for dominance, and mine didn’t stand a chance. “Hey if it’s any consolation, my jaw dropped the first time I saw him without his mask too.” Mask?

“Mask?” I asked.

“Yes…the last time I was here he was on base training recruits, so I’d see him often in full tactical gear. He’s a snipper, so he wears a mask to hide his face in the field. I mean, that was hot too, but in a Ghostface kinda way”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison, but I was curious to see what his entire ensemble looked like. “How old is he?” I asked.

“I think he’s in his mid to late 30s? I’m honestly not too sure, and it doesn’t matter to me either way.” She winked. “I was sensing some unspoken vibes between the two of you in the car though. Don’t think I didn’t see both of you stealing glances at each other every now and then.” She smirked.

“Stop,” I scoffed. “A man like that is definitely not single, and even if he is…I don’t know” I blushed. “I didn’t see him looking at me..”

“K well I see everything, he definitely likes what he sees, and clearly the feeling is mutual on your end as well. Looks like tonight will be interesting.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen, Adrian.” I laughed as I rolled my eyes. Nothing’s gonna happen…right?

PART II 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART II

PART III 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART III

[always-andromeda]

⋆⁺. ❅ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 ❅ .⁺⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Joel Miller x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 3.6k

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ With Sarah away for the holidays for the first time ever, Joel is stuck without a single clue as to what to do for Christmas. That is when you decide to show him the most wonderful time of all. ♡

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ Hey, Jana (@janaispunk)!! I'm your Secret Santa!! I really liked your prompts, so I ended up going with a little bit of almost all of them. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write some absolute tooth rotting fluff and hopefully you enjoy some of the creative liberties I took!! I am a massive fan of your writing so I hope from the bottom of my heart that you enjoy this little piece!! Happy Holidays!! (divider credits go to @saradika-graphics)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ absolute fluff, bits of angst (Joel misses his daughter and has a hard time adjusting ;-;), no actual smut but there are a few suggestive moments (regardless, minors, please do not interact), no outbreak universe, mentions of Sarah sprinkled throughout but no mentions of Ellie whatsoever, mentions of alcohol consumption, non-religious celebration of Christmas, overall it's a decent helping of fluff with Joel learning to enjoy the holidays in a new way.

Sarah wasn’t coming home for Christmas.

When she had first called to deliver the news, Joel hadn’t known how to reply. He gave a curt affirmation and listened to go on about Christopher and everything pertaining to him. Christopher’s sister was going to take her shopping. Christopher’s parents owned horses. Christopher was going to take her to see a production of A Christmas Carol after having dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in town. Christopher, Christopher, Christopher.

The protective father in him was glad. Hell, he was overjoyed that she’d managed to find a guy who was so good to her. But the lonely, single father in him was…deflated.

For two decades she’d been home for the holidays. Year by year, no matter what changed, she was the one constant. There she was, dragging him off the couch to make cookies – because no matter how old she got, Sarah always insisted upon leaving some out for Santa. They’d watch Christmas movies and drink hot chocolate and for that moment in time…everything was wonderful. It didn’t matter how the business was doing or what kind of trouble Tommy had gotten himself into. Joel had his little girl. And for the longest time, he told himself that that was all he needed.

He tried not to let it bother him too much. Work kept him busy enough. He took pride in being one of the few contractors in town who’d take work with the holidays looming so closely. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid the celebration forever. Especially when you started questioning, “What are we doing this year?”

For the last two years you’d joined him and Sarah on their yearly tradition: takeout and Christmas movies. It had been the time of his life, spending Christmas Eve with his favorite girls and waking up to you beside him on Christmas morning while Sarah made cinnamon rolls. And before Christopher came into the picture, he could’ve replayed that Christmas over and over again and he never would’ve gotten sick of it.

The first time you asked about plans, he evaded it, giving some vague excuse about not knowing what his schedule was going to look like.

The days flew by and your tone grew more impatient until one day, while you sat in the passenger seat of his truck, your question turned into, “Joel, what’s going on?”

He’d just pulled into his driveway. If he wanted, he could dodge the question again. He could get out of the truck and slam the door behind him, putting an end to the conflict before it even had the chance to begin.

Then he risked a glance at you. Already, your brow was furrowing in frustration. A solid pang of guilt thumped heavily in his chest. He really couldn’t afford to avoid this one.

“I just–” he hesitated, not knowing how to word it; not wanting to embarrass himself. “Usually Sarah would be home and–”

“Oh…” you trailed off, obviously detected.

Joel quickly added, “I’m sorry. I’m just used to her bein’ here.” You still wouldn’t meet his eye. He softened his tone before carefully taking your hand in his. “Listen, darlin’, it’s not that I don’t wanna spend the holidays with you. Believe me, I do. It’s just that I haven’t had a holiday without that girl in so long. I ain’t even sure what I’m supposta’ do.”

You nodded solemnly, voice quiet but rigid as you replied, “I get that.”

Joel sighed. “I raised that girl for her entire life. Every year I had to figure out what a girl her age might want for Christmas. An’ every single year she’d get all excited waitin’’ for Christmas mornin’. Gettin’ to see that girl smile as she opened up her presents…I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

Finally, you spared him a look as he stared off into space, his eyes getting a tad misty from the memories.

He met your gaze, smiled wistfully, and swallowed the lump in his throat, “I just miss my little girl. I don’t know what else to do.”

“I’m sorry, Joel.” You squeezed his hand reassuringly and managed to put on a smile with pursed lips. Even if you didn’t understand exactly how he felt, he was grateful for the compassion. If he had told Tommy or one of the guys on his crew…hell, he didn’t think he’d have been able to express it in the first place.

But they wouldn’t have accepted those emotions like that. Tommy especially probably would’ve offered to take him out for a few drinks later to forget about it all. And sometimes Joel didn’t mind that. But something told him that this wasn’t something Joel could just drink to forget about.

You continued suddenly, “How would you feel if I came up with some activities for just the two of us? Every day this week leading up to Christmas, we’ll do one thing. And you can opt out on whatever days you want if you have something else in mind. Let’s just have a quiet, gentle Christmas, okay?”

Sarah was only going to get older. And if things with Christopher went well enough…there were going to plenty of Christmases without her to come. Joel had to accept that sooner rather than later.

And that was how the so-called Wonderful Week began.

Day one was simple enough, or so it seemed.

In all of his grief, Joel hadn’t really thought to put up the Christmas tree. After all, that was something he usually did with Sarah. And he’d done a pretty damn good job at avoiding anything relating to her for the first half of December. But if there was any hallmark of the season, a tree was most definitely the big one.

So he wasn’t incredibly surprised when he came home from work to see a massive box sitting in his living room.

“Hey, what’s this box for?” he called out in the house as he set his keys down in the dish beside the front door.

You emerged from the kitchen, smiling ear to ear, two whiskey glasses filled with a milky substance in your hands.

“Hey, you!”

“Hey?” Joel cocked an eyebrow, noticing the bright red Santa hat on your head. “What the hell do we have here?”

That only seemed to make you smile wider. Your eyes lit up as you walked across the living room and handed him one of the whiskey glasses. “What we have…is a brand new Christmas tree,” you answered proudly, pausing and waiting for his reaction.

Joel only squinted before stating, “I still got a perfectly good tree in the garage that you coulda’ dragged out.”

“Perfectly good?”

“Perfectly good,” he affirmed.

“Joel, remember when we put that thing up last year? Almost all of the lights were completely burnt out. Remember how we had to go buy a separate string of lights? And remember how much you hated putting them on and taking them off? You’ve had that old thing since–”

“Since Sarah was little,” he answered curtly.

“Yeah…” you trailed off. Your smile turned sheepish and Joel could practically see the gears turning in your mind, wondering if you’d stepped over the line. 

Joel shot another hard glance at the box that sat smack dab in the middle of his living room. It seemed to challenge him. Was he really going to get this hung up over an old tree? Or was he going to take this opportunity in stride?

He looked back at you. You and your little Santa hat with the white puff ball at the end resting elegantly on your shoulder. Then there were your hands, nervously fiddling with the smooth edges of your whiskey glass. His gaze swept up to your hope-filled eyes that were awkwardly searching him for some sign of tension. He couldn’t be upset at any of that. You were only trying to cheer him up. What kind of Grinch would he be to get upset with a creature as gorgeous and lovely as you?

With a deep breath, Joel spoke, “Well. If we’re gonna put this thing together tonight…might as well get started, I suppose.”

At that, your whole being seemed to practically glow. You set your drink down on the coffee table before making your way to the box to cut at the tape holding it closed.

Joel took a swig of his drink. Egg-nog spiked with something. Another sip made him realize it was Kahlúa. He snickered and shook his head.

That was another little thing you’d gotten him into. Joe was firmly a hard liquor sort of guy until you insisted that if he liked plain coffee, he should at least try coffee liqueur. Sure enough, he liked it. Most of the time you were right about stuff like this. And here you were doing it all over again with this silly tree.

Before too long, you’d both lifted each section of the tree from its cardboard confines and nestled them on top of each other before locking them into place. Joel normally hated fluffing out the tree, and it certainly wasn’t made any better considering it was fresh out of the box. But the liqueur and the Christmas music you’d turned on and had softly playing in the background added a little ease to the task.

The best part was definitely adding the ornaments. Thankfully, you’d stuck with the old box of ornaments that he’d kept beside the old tree in the garage. For a moment he was grateful you hadn’t gone as far as getting brand new ornaments too.

He liked the old ones ten times more than he liked the old tree.

Of course there were random filler baubles in various shades of red, green, silver, and gold. But the ones that got to him were the handmade ones. Some of those went back thirty or even forty years. He pulled out a flat clay sculpture of a dog painted in blue that had faded significantly over the decades. Joel ran his finger over the words on the back.

Thomas Miller, 1980

Tommy had only been seven years old. His art teacher had just fired all of the ceramic ornaments the kids made before going off for winter break. Joel only vaguely remembered the day his little brother came home with that ornament in hand. But he remembered all too well how every year since he’d hit adulthood his brother would take a little glance at the little sculpture and proclaim that it was the best goddamn thing he’d ever made with his own two hands.

“Because I made it for my big brother,” he’d say in a faux sentimental tone. But underneath the machismo and the teasing, Joel knew that it really did mean a great deal to Tommy. Which was why he was still hanging it up thirty years later.

However, the next one made him stop in his tracks. Joel carefully pulled the ornament out from under a layer of bubble wrap. Though it was also made by Tommy, 

Sarah’s first Christmas hadn’t been the easiest. Her mother had just left and money was tight. Joel had been taking every job he possibly could to scrape together money for rent and the necessities. Tommy was still in high school and had his own life to live, yet he always offered to babysit Sarah after he got out of class.

That year, Joel hadn’t had the time to worry about the holidays. Little did he know that Tommy had been saving up since Halloween to get a little tree and some cheap plastic ornaments. But the cherry on top of it all was the one other ornament that Tommy made.

It was a small circle of clay, just big enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Right in the center was a little footprint. Words carved into the clay underneath it said: Sarah’s First Christmas, 1988.

Joel could picture it then, fifteen year old Tommy carefully pressing his niece’s foot into the clay before rewarding her with Cheerios. That period of time forged them into something greater than brothers, Joel thinks. It made them Sarah’s protectors. The ones who would always make sure she was taken care of. And no matter how old she got, that would always be true.

Right as tears started welling in his eyes from the memory, he felt your hand brush his shoulder. “You alright, Joel?” you spoke softly.

“Look at this one,” he answered hoarsely before showing you the ornament.

To his delight, you smiled tenderly and asked, “Where did that come from?”

Much of the night went that way with Joel telling stories about the various ornaments that were in his box and you telling stories about the ones that were in yours. After another drink, he found himself loosening up even more.

The two years prior hadn’t exactly been like this. Both of those Christmases happened before you’d moved in. Back then you were merely observing his and Sarah’s celebrations. This year was different though. This time…you and him were making up your own celebrations.

In the days following, Joel found himself looking forward to whatever you had planned. It was a relief to know at the end of a long day, he’d get to come home to you waiting with some new trick up your sleeve.

Day two immediately presented a challenge in the form of two gingerbread house kits. Because, you argued, who better to construct a gingerbread house than a contractor? Joel couldn’t help but snicker and roll his eyes when you pulled out a level and the tape measure from his tool kit.

“Think you got this wall straight, Miller?” you joked, holding the level up to the solid cookie wall. 

“You’re funny.”

“Just making sure everything is all even,” you shrugged. “One would hope that the big fancy contractor would care that his gingerbread house was up to code.”

Day three was a bit of an unexpected one. You finally got him to load up the boxes of old clothing and other odds and ends that had been gathering dust in his garage for far too long. Joel kept telling himself he’d donate them some weekend but continually forgot. So of course you were the one to remind him by remarking how important it was to give a little for the holidays.

It was a little bittersweet, especially since a good chunk of it was stuff Sarah had gotten rid of before moving out for college. Joel was all too aware that there was a small part of him that feared that the second he gave it all away, his daughter would definitely be calling him up just begging to have that butterfly tank top she wore in fifth grade back. But he also knew that that probably wasn’t going to happen.

So bye-bye went the dusty boxes of hand-me-downs, off to homes that could appreciate them again.

Day four brought popcorn garlands. He opted out of spiked drink for that one, knowing that he needed a steady hand if he was going to be able to thread delicate little pieces of popcorn onto some string. However, with his thick fingers, he still managed to poke himself with the crafting needle.

And really, making the garland was soon forgotten by the dozenth time you grabbed his injured hand to kiss it better. Joel really didn’t need any sort of alcohol in his system to start feeling lightheaded before pulling you into his lap for a bruising kiss.

By the end of the night, both of your garlands were only long enough to hang in a single doorway. But that was just fine with Joel.

Day five was Christmas Eve. Another night where he was sure you had something big planned – he later learned that you originally wanted to make Christmas cookies. But Joel was never any good with the whole cooking and baking thing. And tonight seemed as good of a night as any to take a load off.

“What will Santa eat when he comes down the chimney?” you protested in a teasing tone.

Joel scoffed, “Santa can starve for all I care. Tonight, I want to settle down and relax with my lady.”

“Lady,” you rolled your eyes. “Who are you calling lady?”

“You, Little Miss Christmas. Now go put your pajamas on. We’re gonna have a nice night in and you’re gonna like it.”

You laughed one deep laugh from your belly and replied, “Yes, sir.”

The next time you showed your face downstairs, Joel had planted himself firmly on the carpet with a box of old photos.

“Whatcha’ got there?” you asked as you folded your legs and settled beside him, resting your head on his shoulder.

Joel glanced over, catching the tail end of a wide eyed expression on your face as you peeked over his shoulder. 

“What’s that look for?” he chuckled.

Joel tilted the photo in your direction. It was a picture of you and him from the year prior; the second Christmas you spent with him. You were ice skating, Joel standing firmly behind you, one hand placed firmly on your hip and the other wrapped around you, keeping you from completely falling over.

“I didn’t know you got a picture from that night,” you mumbled.

“Oh,” Joel set the photo down and picked up a small, leather bound album from the box in front of him. “Sarah took a whole buncha’ pictures that night. They’re some of my favorites.”

“Really?”

Joel didn’t miss the sentimentality in your tone. He himself had almost forgotten that Sarah had brought her camera along that year. She’d taken a photography class during her freshman year of college; so it was practically attached to her almost every time she came home that semester.

She’d surprised him with the album a few months afterwards, raving about how adorable you and him had looked the entire night. I’ve never seen you get so sappy about a woman before, she’d teased him before adding, but it’s kinda cute, ya know?

Joel had brushed it off then, putting it with the rest of his old family photos. But over time it quickly began to mean something more.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d pulled that little book out and flipped through the photos. And now, for the first time you were looking at them with him.

“Really,” he asserted. “You look real pretty in all of ‘em.”

And God, did he mean it. On the next page was one of you wearing this red, satin number at a dinner party. He could easily remember the way that the material practically flowed down your curves like water. And he remembers the way his attraction for you pooled heavily in his belly and the way he had to make himself stay cool until he could get you home and get that outfit off of you himself.

The shot right next to that one was from the same dinner party. Joel had a can of whipped cream in one hand and a dollop of the stuff in the other. And there you were, attempting to lick at the smear of whipped cream on your nose.

He showed you the album and you grimaced before smiling sheepishly, “God, I can’t believe Sarah got that moment.”

God, that smile, Joel thought to himself. He could never get tired of that smile.

“Yeah,” Joel nodded. “I’m glad she did. I tell ya’, that girl can really capture the beauty in a moment.”

You started to speak, “You say beauty…I say–”

“Beauty,” Joel repeated. “You’re beautiful. And that’s that.”

You were quiet for a few seconds as Joel continued to flip through the album. The more little moments he remembered from the year before, the more gratitude welled up in his chest. And before he could really control it, his mouth was moving.

“You know I’m glad I get to spend time with you, right?”

“Oh, that’s good. After last night I was sure that you were just sick of me,” you quipped.

“I mean it,” Joel said with a playful nudge at your side. “I know I’m not the easiest guy to get along with. I’m old and I’m ornery and I’m probably a real pain in the neck sometimes. And the fact that you’re willin’ to put up with a pain in the neck like me…especially around this time a’ year…it means a lot. Everything you’ve done this week…all for me? I’m grateful, darlin’.”

Your expression faltered and you batted your eyelashes, gaze fixed on your hands in your lap.

“I just like taking care of you. I like making you happy,” you murmured.

Joel turned his head and leaned in, closing the distance between your faces.

“Good thing you always make me happy, darlin’,” he mumbled against your lips.

As he pressed a kiss against your lips, his hand settled on the small of your back, pulling you into his arms. The little photo album dropped between his legs and was soon forgotten, the same way a lot of his worries for the holidays had as soon as you came in.

At that moment…he didn’t think about Sarah. Didn’t think about her never spending another holiday in his home again. She'd come back home at some point, just like his worries probably would; he’d always worry about his little girl. Though he wouldn’t forget the years of memories he’d had before you, he wouldn’t let himself dwell on them for so long that he forgot about you. Your presence was more than enough of a present for him.

[thebunnybabyblog]

"Tear you apart" 18+ Snape x reader

This is just pure smut so be warned! No one under the age of 18 should venture any further! Run away now you are not welcomed to read this please go play roblox or something :)

Age is not told in this but reader is 18+, Snape is whatever age your headcanon prefers. This is a female oriented one shot so specific terms will be said here that apply to that! Also don't even say a thing about her nickname this is soooo not a shamless insert for myself, def not 👀

the song "tear you apart" by she wants revenge is what inspired me to write this. please listen bc god it makes my head go brrrrrrrrr when i listen to it lol with that please enjoy and tell me what you thought! lots of love! 💕

Potions had always been your best subject. There was just something about the skill and craftsmanship that made you feel so compelled to learn as much as you could. It was like art and science all in one. The precision and dedication that it took to make something with so much value to the wizarding world was vastly impressive to you, but what really sealed the deal was the man that had taught you all that you knew.

Severus Snape was a god to you. The poised mysterious genius who seemed to be able to look death right in his eyes and laugh in annoyance. The way he just glided around school with so much power and command sent shivers down your spine. Always wanting to be in his good graces and never a means of annoyance like most students. You wouldn’t call yourself a know it all teacher's pet who would tattle acting as the school yard spy but truly as an admirer and helping hand.

You made it clear that you admired, appreciated and respected him and his immense wealth of knowledge. It’s not like you didn’t respect all of your professor's knowledge because you really did but he was just different? Part of it was how bad you felt from the vast amount of disrespect he received. Of course you understood that kids are difficult to look past tone and attitude but if you did your work and listened when he spoke and spoke only kind words to him, he was kind to you.

Over the 7 years at Hogwarts you grew a pretty decent relationship with him. Of course it wasn’t like you skipped down the hall hand-in-hand but he had gained a level of trust and mutual respect for you. To the point he had offered you to be an assistant of sorts to him, nothing major but since you had expressed after graduation you wanted to work at being a professional potioneer and owning your own shop one day, he let you come two to three days a week and help him with different tasks. It would always be a surprise that day on what you were doing. It could be organizing and taking stock of the store room, observing and taking notes of class projects of lower grades that were brewing (as some potions could take days or weeks to brew) or even grading first to third year assignments. All the while you'd be free to ask questions and just chat really.

You had really cherished these meetings but your social group really never understood why you were even wanting to be there. For them it seemed like a punishment.

“You had to organize the storeroom?!? What did you do wrong to have to do that??” They’d exclaim in shock and then be in total disbelief when you said,

“It wasn't a punishment, it was actually quite fun! He showed me some rare ingredients that you can only get on a full moon on the tallest mountain in the Himalayas every 6 1/2 years!”

None of it ever seemed like a chore; it was an honor. This man, with such great skill, had taken you even the tiniest bit under his wing. I guess people just couldn’t understand how such a bright and bubbly person would want to spend time in a dark gloomy dungeon with the dungeon bat himself. But you knew he was just misunderstood and it didn’t help that you found him to be the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on.

To you he was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. His tall looming body, dark midnight eyes that looked straight to your core, chiseled features that seemed to be carved out of the most precious white marble. He was more than just looks, he was powerful, knowledgeable and what people didn’t seem to see but he was quite funny and gentle. The way he treated his work as if he was Michelangelo diligently and painstakingly painting the Sistine Chapel ceiling upside down on his back. He was just brilliant to be around and absorbing even a speck of him was a gift.

You couldn’t lie to yourself though, you were down bad. The type of bad that made you find yourself absentmindedly drifting off to space only to come back down to earth and see you had doodled all over your notes with little drawings of hearts with SS in them and sketches of his striking features or kicking your feet and going red when he pops into your mind while in class because he said something that just rolled off his tongue in just the right way that made you fantasize scenarios in your head.

A crush was truly an understatement at this point. If he asked you to be his pet you would be at his feet curled up in an instant. Never making it too apparent though as to never show him any type of actions that would threaten your ability to continue this precious opportunity to learn and just be around him, or so you thought.

Friday was your easy day and your most favorite day of the week. You only had one class and that was of course advanced potions at the end of the day and a day where you always stayed after to help out. Today was especially good because it was a day when everything just went well. Snape had shown the class how to brew amortentia, the most powerful love potion. Not only was it an exciting lecture and potion to brew but it got your head to brew all sorts of things as well.

“Gods I wish I could give him a drink of mine! I’d do anything for him to feel even a slight bit like me, the way I do for him!” You thought into the void of your mind. You couldn’t help to doodle while you waited for the last few minutes of the class to count down, not like you were leaving but just waiting for your afternoon Friday treat to roll around. Your little delusions were helped by the fact he had actually praised your work when he was making his way around the classroom before the class was over.

“Very good work Miss [last name], excellent pearl color and the smell is just right. You will make a fine potion master one day” he said in a smooth silky voice. You were lost in every word that rolled off his sharp tongue. It felt as if you had drank this entire cauldron, gulping it down like a man who was stranded in the desert who finally found water.

“Thank you sir!” You squeaked out, kicking your feet enthusiastically underneath your table. If only people could understand how good his praises felt, the chokehold they held on her heart.

“Alright class it seems our time is up, most of you really need to pay more attention when I’m up here teaching… this is a powerful potion that needs to be respected and I saw many glaring mistakes that certainly should have been avoided… I will expect a report on my desk about the history of amortentia by Monday morning sharp. If I didn’t tear your potion to shreds in my walkthrough you are excluded.” The class filled with annoyed groans and frustrated sighs and a few looks were shot your way since they knew the “dungeon bunny” (your unofficial nickname your friend would poke fun at you with) was exempted once again. It wasn’t your fault you enjoyed potions, that's what Hogwarts was for, to find your passions and excel and it did help when you were in love.

The class cleaned up their areas and one-by-one filed out of the room looking a bit defeated by the sudden addition of weekend homework but you stayed behind ready for whatever task he was willing to give you today.

“Great lecture as always professor!” You said looking up to him with a soft smile.

“Thank you Miss. [last name], it’s a shame not everyone is as devoted to potions as you and I.” he replied back to you in a smooth tone. For him to put you and him into the same category made your heart thump in your chest. His praises made your hair stand on end as if caught in an electrical storm. A blush was surely visible on your face when your brain was able to comprehend his kind words.

“Oh! I am nothing compared to your dedication, you are a god compared to me!” You spouted back not even thinking, making you blush harder.

“Oh. My. Gods. I did not just say that, what a loser, I must seem like such a fangirl. He's your professor, not an idol.” You barked in your head, now thoroughly embarrassed. Pulling yourself out of your thoughts when you heard a soft chuckle escape from his throat.

“I guess I should take my place up in the heavens then” he said as he made his way back around to his desk “today if you can, I would appreciate a walk through of the storeroom and make a list of anything that is running low. Will that be something you can help take off my plate today?” He asked in a way that sounded like silk.

“Of course professor you don’t even need to ask!” Gods you were pathetic and you knew it but you didn’t care an ounce. It felt so good to be of service, to do anything he asked of you. You were his devoted little bunny and hopped when he said hop. You’d never admit it to your friends but you loved being called his dungeon bunny because gods it really was so fitting for how you felt. And if it meant spending ages looking through every tiny vial in that room you would do it on your hands and knees to be around him.

Making your way into the room you began to look through the endless rows of ingredients. You knew this was going to take a long time but it was worth it. You had been working for only about 15 minutes when you felt a cold rush of air against your back behind you, not thinking much of it, only that it was just a draft, you didn’t even turn to look. It wasn’t until you heard the door click shut behind you locking you in the small room.

“Umm professor, did you close the door?” You said still bent over looking at vials in the cabinet below you before turning around.

“Yes” he replied

You jumped at the sound of him right behind you. He glides and somehow makes no noise when he walks, some people think he casts a charm on his shoes to keep them silent. You spin around and are now in very close proximity to him. Your breath is stuck in your throat and you push yourself up against the shelf. The vials behind you raddle as your back hits the wood. You look up to his looming figure and he looks down at you with his sparkling black eyes and his equally raven black hair falling around his face.

“I’m quite sorry, did I frighten you?” He says with a sly smile.

“Oh umm no hehe of course not.” You say with your eyes closed with an embarrassed smile slapped across your face.

“Oh good I would be awfully sad to scare off my little dungeon bunny.” His words slapped you across your face.

You look up to him in shock, eyes wide and heart pounding out of your chest, “d… dungeon bunny?!? How does he know about the nickname my friends call me?” You think in a panic.

“You scream it quite loud in your head all the time. It’s not hard to miss.” He replies to your thought. As if your eyes weren’t wide enough they were bigger now, you now understood he had the ability to use legilimency. The thought of every embarrassing little thing you have thought about him over the last 7 years bounced around in your mind. You were in utter shambles over how embarrassing you had been without your knowledge. Especially since you never were shy to let your daydreams run amok in the dirtiest ways you could think of.

“You enjoy being my bouncing little bunny don’t you?” He questioned as if he was a predator circling and taunting its prey.

“I….. I umm… I-“ was all that you were able to stutter out. A deep chuckle rumbled up through his chest and you felt his cool breath on your face as he loomed over your shanking frame. You couldn’t help to smell the smooth smell of spearmint and honey on his breath sending your head spinning.

“Does cat have your tongue, little bunny? Usually you have so much to say up here.” He said as he tapped a finger melodically against your temple. You felt your knees wobbling under you and you couldn’t help to just look up at him like a deer caught in headlights as you white knuckled the counter behind you.

“You're usually such a good girl and speak when spoken to”, grabbing your chin and squeezing your cheeks with his long slender fingers. “Now I will only repeat myself once more,” his tone stern and filled with authority. “I said you enjoy being my little. Bouncing. Bunny. Don’t you y/n?”

“Y… yes” you shyly mustered out.

“Yes what?” He commanded as he squeezed harder

“Yes sir!” You practically shouted, trembling in his grasp.

“See that wasn’t hard was it?” Leaning down to be eye level with you all the while still holding on to you tight.

“N… no sir.” You couldn’t help but feel like putty in his grasp. You wanted to be devoured, like you said before, if he said hop you would hop and you meant it.

“You know even if I couldn’t hear your detailed perversions every time you laid eyes on me you are quite obvious and oblivious to your surroundings.” He released your face and leaned in close to your ear. His hair tickled your skin as it cascaded over your cheek.

“Your little love doodles are very cute, you think I don’t notice them as I walk around the room? You’re lucky I don’t punish you for being off task so frequently but you are always such a good girl I can’t bring myself to punish you.”

You were overheating with your skin flushed pink, you felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of your forehead.

“Hmmm It is getting pretty hot in here, why don’t you take off your coat?” He hummed, pulling back from your ear. His fingers found their way under your lapels and slid your jacket off your shoulders onto the floor.

“T..thank you.” Not even sure why you were thanking him but it felt so good too.

“Such a polite girl, seems like someone needs a treat.” Taking your chin back into his grasp, he leaned down and planted a soft kiss onto your lips. Still in utter shock and disbelief from what was happening you just looked at him wide eyed but in an instant you shut them and sunk your weight into his hand. You grabbed onto the side of his robe for support and let out a moan that shocked you both. You could feel him smile against you and his left hand sneak to your waist and pulled you close into him.

Your eyes shot open when you felt him hard against your stomach taken aback by just how large he felt under all of those dark clothes. “Gods his cock is huge!” You couldn’t help but scream in pure lust loud in your head, immediately looking up to him in terror as you might as well have just said that out loud. Somehow his eyes grew darker than they naturally were and you knew it was game over. He was about to devour you whole.

You looked away fast in utter embarrassment but his hand snaked its way through your hair and pulled your face back to his and whispered once more into your ear, “I want to fucking tear you apart.” He said, so sharp it pierced through your body like flying arrows across the battlefield. Before you knew it the hand in your hair pulled you to the ground and you were on your knees faced with the serpent trapped behind his wool trousers.

“Now be the good little bunny you are and set your God free” he said as the hair he had in his fist fell free from his grasp.

Filled with nerves, your trembling fingers slowly reached up and skated across the black wool, hesitating for a moment once they touched the cool metal buckle of his belt. You looked up as if making sure it really was alright. He returned your wordless question with a light smile of reassurance. You slowly slid the leather belt out of the metal and grasped the button that was behind it and slipped it through the hole and pulled the zipper down. He sprung free from his prison and slapped his stomach with a snap.

You gulped hard, this was the first time you had ever seen a man in this way. You had seen one once before when a Gryffindor boy got a little too drunk at a party and thought it would be a good idea to whip it out as a laugh but it was nothing like this. Snape's cock was powerful and hot with desire, just as dominating as the man it was attached to. You could feel the slickness building between your legs as you looked up to him practically drunk.

“You look so beautiful down on your knees for me I wish you could see just how beautiful you look, all flushed and doe eyed looking up at me.” His words poured over you like honey. You craved his praise and you’d do anything he wanted to get it.

“Thank you professor! I… I’d do anything for you!” You cried out to him bouncing on your knees. You were passed the embarrassment, hell the embarrassment was fueling you. You didn’t care what you looked like, you just wanted to do whatever he wanted, that's all you’ve ever wanted to do for him.

“Oh I know I’ve heard you so many times lost in thought wondering how I looked under my robes,” his hand began to work the many buttons of his coat and he slipped it off onto the floor with yours. His white linen shirt flowed free around him as he worked up that as well. Soon his torso was bare and you eyed the pale skin that hid under it. You could see his scars that scattered around his smooth form and wondered how they felt.

He reached down, holding out a hand to yours. With a slight hesitation you placed them in his and he placed your hands on his stomach. Your fingers began to wonder, exploding the milky smooth skin you had dreamed about. A soft moan escaped him as your warm touch moved around his cold body. You couldn’t help but look up at him in amazement.

“Gods you’re just so pretty.” He said looking down at you with hooded eyes. You just couldn’t take it any more. You needed to touch his cock that had been staring you in the face far too long. You moved your hands down past his belly button following his little happy trail down to the base. Looking up to him one last time for permission, he nodded a gentle yes.

Grabbing the base, he was rock solid in your grasp. A huff escaped him and he slightly pumped into your hand. This sent your body into overdrive losing all sense of your humanity; you were just his slave to his desire. You worked your hand up and down his shaft not even able to touch your fingertips together as you pumped him slowly.

He reached out a hand and placed it on the top of your head and looped some hair around his fingers and pulled your face close to him. He smelt a mix of smoky body wash and sweat. He filled your nose with his scent and it made your eyes roll in the back of your head as you sniffed him in.

“Open that pretty little mouth of yours I can’t take this anymore.” He growled in pure need. Without hesitation you opened yourself for him and his tip was past your threshold before you had time to process. The precum that had began to gather on his tip spread across your tongue as he snaked himself into you. You couldn’t help but moan as your senses were attacked with him.

“Fuck your sweet little mouth feels better than I could have imagined.” He spit out. Your arms wrapped themselves around his thick thighs for support as he filled your mouth with his needy cock.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve waited for this moment. Fuck…. Take my cock. Just like that, you're such a good bunny for me.” You practically cried out in pleasure to the praise and the vibration only sent him into a craze. He began to frantically assault your throat, making you gag around him. The room filled with the sounds of your complete surrender to the man that now laid claim in your throat.

Tears filled your eyes and fell over your flushed cheeks, he reached a hand down and his fingers moved gently over them wiping away at your tear stained face. He pulled them to his mouth and took a long lick of his fingers, humming as he did so. You were practically crossed eyed looking up at him.

He pumped himself in you a few more times and released your mouth with a loud pop. You coughed out desperately for air but were sad that he had released your throat.

“As much as I’d love to cum down that pretty throat of yours it would be such a waste to put it there our first time.” “First time?” You thought. That implied this wasn’t going to be some one time event that you would think about over and over for the rest of your life on a loop.

“Oh you sweet little thing. You think I’d let you get away from me that easily? I’ve waited so long fighting with myself for a very long time. There is no way I’m letting you escape me.” His voice deep and raspy you trembled below him. Grabbing the collar of your shirt he pulled you back to your feet and placed his hands firmly around your waist and lifted you to sit upon the counter. You were practically face to face now, though he still had a bit of height on you even at this level.

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip and he pulled you back into a deep kiss. You found your arms sneaking in under his shirt and wrapping around his back pulling him close in. This kiss was pure sex and filled with fire. He pressed his body between your legs and his cock rubbed hard against your cotton panties. You could help but moan into his mouth with the sudden sensation shocking your wet core.

His right hand left your face and he made the journey down between your thighs. The feeling of his fingertips brushing against your soaking wet pussy made you jump. He pulled away from the kiss and now looked you in your eyes the way you asked his consent with yours earlier. You couldn’t help but look away for a moment embarrassed but you quickly moved your gaze back to him and nodded with the most precious lust filled face.

Before you knew it his slender fingers were hooked into your panties and he slid them all the way down in one large motion. The air was chilled against the sopping wet mess you had under your skirt. He slipped your panties into his back pocket.

“You're never getting those back by the way” he chuckled out. “Now since it’s only fair I think it’s time we take this tight little top off?” He backed away and looked at you. It only took you a moment to understand he wanted to watch you do this part.

Your shaking hands made their way up to the top button and began to slowly slip them out. He hummed in anticipation as you revealed yourself and the pretty baby pink bra you had hidden underneath your shirt. The shirt joined the pile of accumulating clothes on the stone floor below you. His hands reached up and began to wonder around your plush supple skin. His touch made your skin send goosebumps over your body. You let out soft whimpers as his nail softly scraped along your bra's edge.

“Please” you moaned out

“Oh she speaks? Please what my dear?” He says against your neck.

“Please sir, I can’t take it please just touch me!” With your desperate cries he sunk his teeth into your neck kissing and sucking soon to be deep red hickies into your skin. You cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain as he sneaked his hands behind you and made your bra fall to the floor where it belonged. Your breasts were exposed to him and the air and the mix of that made your nipples rock solid. His large hands began to knead into them with vigor and equal desperation. He easily found your nipple with his mouth and sucked and nipped. His deep moans filled the air and mixed with your high pitched squeals.

As his mouth sent attacks to your left breast and his left hand tweaked your right, his free hand found its way to your soaked pussy. It’s like he knew exactly how to curl his fingers around your clit to send shocks through your body. Your hips rolled desperately against his hand to feel him as much as you could.

“If only you could see how desperate and needy you are right now. Humping your dripping little cunt against me. Does your god feel good against your pretty pussy? Hmmm?” His words cut through you like a knife. All you could do is crumble under him in pleas and desperation.

“P…please please please, I need you, please fill me up I can’t take it anymore.” Tears filling your eyes again.

“Well if you beg me so nicely how could I say no to that?” With no warning his cock was pressed against your slit and plunged deep inside you. You cried out in pain as he was still against you.

“Shhh I’m right here I won’t move until you’re ready ok?” He said in between kissing away even more tears on your cheeks.

You were a mess under him but this was the only place in the entire world you wanted to be. For seven years you dreamed about him and wanting him so desperately to fill you up and here you were getting exactly that. You clutched onto his back sending your nails deep into his flesh. He couldn’t help but move forward slightly into you from the sensation. You let out a moan and tightened around him that made him moan into your neck.

“Please move” you breathed out. You didn’t have to ask him twice; his hips moved with a sudden urgency that even shocked him. As if on autopilot he moved in a primal need into your center and filled the room with sounds of him slapping against you. His hands gripped your waist hard, unbeknownst to you both, would leave behind bruises the next day.

His pace was slow at first but over time with the growing moans that escaped your mouth he began to move faster and more erratic.

“Fuck your pussy feels so good around me. Your cunt is sucking me in so eagerly.” He said through gritted teeth. His words made you clench harder around him. “Tell me how does my big cock feel inside you?”

“Hmgmmhh-“ is all your mouth manages to get out between his powerful thrusts. He grabbed the hair in the back of your head, snapping you back to look him deep in his eyes. “What did I tell you about speaking when spoken too? Don’t make me have to punish you when you’ve been so good for me.” He growled down at you.

“You feel so good! Y..you make me feel so full, I’ve n..never felt like this down there before.”

He paused and looked at you, you whined at the sudden stop. “Is this the first time you’ve had someone inside you?” He asked in disbelief. You panicked afraid that he would want to stop with your lack of experience.

“I’m sorry! Is that a problem? I don’t want to disappoint you!” You said, shaken. His eyes widened and immediately placed your face in his hands.

“Oh gods no! I’m just shocked someone as breathtakingly beautiful as you hadn’t had a line of boys trying to take you to bed with them.” A soft smile looked down on you and you nuzzled yourself into his touch.

“I have always just waited in hope that ummm it would be you.” You said looking away.

You could feel him throb in you as that escaped your lips. Without warning his hips snapped in you at a frantic pace once more.

“What a sexy little nymph you are. I am going to truly lose my mind.” He grunted as he pumped you deeper and deeper with each passing thrust. His fingers slipped down and found their way to your clit once again. Your moans filled his ears like prayers. Begging for a release that you were desperately in need of.

“Please sir I-I’m so close.” Your face found its way to his shoulder as you cried out.

“D-does my pretty bunny want to cum for me? Have you been a good girl? Should I allow you to cum all over my big cock?” He asked into your hair.

“God please, please let me cum! I’m begging you please!” You screamed out.

“Fuck, cum on my cock while I fill you deep with mine!” He shouted back at you. He plowed into you at dangerous speeds, hitting your cervix with every lightning crack of his hips. Circling faster around your clit with his thumb. You could feel yourself on the edge so close to your sweet release. With one final snap of his hips you lost all control coming undone around his throbbing cock. Squirting all around him unaware you were even able to do that.

When he felt you release around him that’s all he needed, “Fuck fuck fuck take my cum, fuck!”and shot load after load of his hot cum deep into your pussy. Grunting like an animal as he reached his glorious climax that he has dreamed of for so long.

You both stayed in this wrapped position for what seemed like an eternity panting and gasping for air. When you both found your breath he planted sweet gentle kisses all over you. You giggled with each one he bestowed upon you.

“Gods I’m going to keep you locked down here forever.” He said between kisses.

“You’d have to pull me out of here to get me to leave.” You replied back and planted a gentle kiss on his swollen lips.

“Well that would never happen,” he said looking over you sweetly.“Now let’s get you in my chambers so we can get you right in the bath because you are one dirty bunny.”

“Yeah your dirty little bunny.” You giggled into his ear and with that you were whisked out of the store room and through his chamber door off for more of your wildest dreams to play out before you.

[potatocitytechnology]

The Black Cat - N.YT

Kinktober Day 3

Shibari: Shibari, which translates to "decorative tying," is a form of rope bondage that originated in Japan and dates back to the seventeenth-century Edo period. Shibari involves rope made from jute or hemp and is considered an aesthetically pleasing form of BDSM.

INTRO: For the first time in your life you found something that made you feel alive and beautiful. Then you and your boyfriend broke up. Little did you know meeting Yuta would be the best thing for you and your obsession.

GENRES: Smut

PAIRING: reader (afab) x softdom!yuta

WARNINGS: profanity/swearing, rope bondage/shibari, extensive use of ropes, temperature play, blindfolding, gagging, use of a vibrating toy, a little humiliation and degradation, oral (F), crying (F), slight suspension, mentions of full suspension, reader has a rope kink?, softdom!yuta, bdsm themes - overall explicit content - PLEASE, DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS BLOG OR POST IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

WORD COUNT: 5.7k (shit.)

AUTHORS NOTE: Wow, this was not meant to be nearly 6k long... especially since i'm trying to keep all kintober works under 2k (˶ •́◡•̀ ˶) I ended up doing a decent amount of research into shibari and just couldn't keep it short (it needed a backstory!). i really wanting to write for it but i had absolutely no confidence in my ability to describe something so intricate and complicated. However, this is my interpretation of this kink with some other bdsm kinks thrown in to make it interesting. Anyways, enough of my rambling, enjoy! 𖦹 ̫ 𖦹

You met Yuta through a friend of a friend. To be honest you don’t know much about him, even after meeting up with him a few times to discuss your mutual… interests. You met up at normal places, coffee shops mostly, but this time was different. This time you were gonna do what you’d been planning all this time. 

The reason you heard of Yuta was because you were talking to your friend about why you keep going back to your ex. One of the main reasons was the sex. And trust, it wasn’t just sex. Your ex, Ethan, was into shibari. Something you never even knew about before you met him, but it quickly became your favourite obsession. 

There’s just something about the feeling you get when you're tied up, all pretty and captive. The dopamine that courses through your veins is pure addiction and the stress leaves your body immediately. Ethan made you depend on him even after you’re broken up, it being second nature to call him up when you needed your fix. You hate how much you need it. 

Yuta became relevant when your friend said she knew an old friend from Uni who was into shibari, too. She offered to get in contact with her again and ask if you and she could meet up. You were eager to say the least, not having met anyone else with the same kink aside from Ethan and you would do anything to not have to go to him anymore. 

Luckily, her friend agreed and that’s when you met up with her. Lucy is a very funny and warm hearted person. She was incredibly happy to help you learn more about rope bondage and introduce you to more people through parties and clubs. 

On one of those nights was when you first saw Yuta. However, you could say he saw you first judging by the way he stared at you for a good hour before you locked eyes with him from across the room. It was an instant attraction, your breath catching in your throat as you looked him up and down. 

He then walked over to where you and Lucy were talking with some of your new friends, an extra drink appearing in his left hand. His dark hair covered his forehead, dipping just past his brow bone. Eyes twinkling, lips full and plump as they turn into a smile. 

When he reaches you and your friends, his gaze linger on you as he introduces himself to everyone, leaving you for last. “Hi, I’m Yuta.” it’s simple the way he says it, but you can’t help but feel there’s something lying beneath it. You pay it no mind, however, introducing yourself to him. People around you start mumbling, even those caught up in… introductions, stop their activities to peer at your group. 

You can’t help but to feel shy, their unwanted attention making your eyes cast down as you try to become as unnoticeable as possible. Yuta leans in closer to you, “Don’t mind them.” And that’s when you knew he was the one you wanted to do it with. There was something about him that made you feel like he was safe and knew what he was doing. 

On the cab back to Lucy’s place she turns to you as soon as the doors shut. “Oh my god, y/n, you don’t know how big that just was.” her tone is one of disbelief and excitement but you’re absolutely confused. “What do you mean?” 

She grabs your wrist, “Yuta Nakamoto, the one who had his eyes glued to you?” you nod your head, unsure why she’s asking you a question about a guy you met two hours ago. How're you supposed to know who he is? Her eyes widened, “shit, I never told you about Yuta.” she sits back in thought and you begin to panic. Well that was ominous, what the fuck is it supposed to mean? Sure doesn’t sound good. 

She angles her face back, ready to explain while your mind reels thinking you’ve met someone who’s way past your level of expertise. “Yuta doesn’t take interest in a lot of people.” is all she says before pausing again. A frustrated look passes your face, “Lucy, what the hell is with this guy?” She nods her head. 

“Don’t worry, he can’t be bad for you.” She concludes and you give her a very unimpressed look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She lifts her shoulders, as if in some sort of defeat. “Well, I’ll put it like this,” her eyes pierce yours with a slight look of worry passing through them. “Who better to teach you the art of Japanese rope bondage than Yuta Nakamoto?” 

After that you were cautious, how could you not be? But when Yuta, somehow, got ahold of your number and invited you out for coffee, you didn’t have it in you to say no. From there you learnt what his intentions were with you. He wanted you to be his next ‘muse’. Yuta said he only picks a select few people to teach and participate in his activities, and he wanted you. 

You were hesitant, but your need to be tied surpassed your fear of the unknown. When you were discussing your inexperience with Yuta and his with you, it came up. The fact that you would do almost anything to feel the weight of rope on your skin. Yuta’s reaction was a slow nod, but you saw the look that passed through his irises. It was lust, laced with approval and it made you feel proud. 

After these few meetups, you began to be much more confident around Yuta, unafraid to say the things you wanted and him the same with you. On your last meetup, Yuta asked the question you knew was coming; “Do you want to actually do it next time?” You gulp, a lump forming in your throat. “Of course.” You nod, your eyes reassuring him that you want to do this. Besides, you refused to see Ethan for over three weeks while you’ve been talking to Yuta, and you need this. He smiles, his approval making you happy. 

That brings you to the present moment. You stand outside the address Yuta gave you to meet at. It seems like some sort of club, you think as you observe the outside of the building. Big, bold letters read on the front, ‘The Black Cat”. Spooky, you think to yourself before double checking the address, pulling your coat closer to your shivering body. 

Confirming it is the place, you tame your wildly beating heart by taking in deep breaths as you walk up to the entrance. Your stilettos click on the pavement as you do, and you can’t help but feel overdressed and underdressed at the same time. Not to mention cold, the chilly Autumn air biting at your skin. 

You hear the thumping of slow and sensual RnB resonating from within the building as you get closer, eventually only a foot from the door. Thoughts of regret rush through your mind. What the hell are you doing here? This isn’t you.

Before you get the chance to turn and hurry back to your car, a throuple pushes through the doors, startling you, as they giggle and laugh. The two girls sloppily lie kisses on the guys neck and face as they disappear into the night and you’re envious. They look like they’re having pure, carefree fun. You want that too, and right now your key to that life is waiting for you inside this building. 

Holding your breath, you push through the doors into the warm and sensual atmosphere of the club. Your eyes are greeted with dark furniture and bodies moving together as everyone minds their own business with the people they’re with. You try not to show your shock, as you walk past couches and tables where people are kissing and groping, making your way to the bar at the far end of the room. 

You grasp the surface of the bar with both hands as you roll into it. The air feels heavy in your lungs as the bartender comes over to you. “Need anything, love?” He asks, a heavy English accent lacing his voice. You go to shake your head before someone calls from behind you, “A cosmopolitan for the lady, thanks.” 

You turn around, hoping to see Yuta but instead it’s some other guy. His shirt is off, which isn’t surprising, though it’s not the way you’d introduce yourself to someone. He takes a seat beside you as you prop yourself onto the bar stool. “What’re you doing here, pretty?” He asks, a slur in his voice indicating he’s had a lot to drink. 

“Waiting for someone.” you reply, a coldness lingering in your tone. He either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care because he keeps talking. “You sure? Don’t see anyone running to claim you.” His voice is suggestive and you start to feel slimy while he eyes you up. You only hum in response, hoping he gets the hint to fuck off. 

“Pretty things that don’t get claimed around here, are taken by others.” He says, obviously thinking that you’ll jump into his arms if Yuta doesn’t show up. Luckily, you don’t have to reply as the bartender steps in, “Piss off, Tyler. She’s with Yuta.” his tone is low, like a warning and you begin to wonder just how much power Yuta has within these communities. 

“Like I give a fuck if she’s Yuta’s or not.” He laughs, swinging an arm around your shoulder and you grimace, the smell of sweat and alcohol radiating from him. “You should be.” The bartender replies, who’s name tag reads, Jordan.

The guy harassing you, Tyler laughs louder and more obnoxiously. “And where is big bad Yuta, right now, huh?” You scowl, as he shakes around you. You honestly feel like you could punch him at any second. 

Thankfully, you won’t have to, as an angry sounding voice emits from behind you and Tyler. “Get your hands off of her, Tyler, or I swear to god you’ll loose them.” It sends shivers up your spine and you smirk as it clearly scares the absolute shit out of Tyler. His arm quickly leaves your shoulders as he whips around, his arms in the air in mock surrender. 

“H-Hey man, I was just kidding. No hard feelings.” he stutters, every ounce of his confidence leaving his body as Yuta watches him with stalking eyes. “If you touch her again-” he begins to threaten, but catches the look of fear and uncertainty flash through your eyes and stops himself. He takes a deep breath, “You are never to be anywhere near her again, do you understand?” 

Tyler nods and disappears as fast as he appeared. Yuta gives an appreciative nod to Jordan, the bartender, before grabbing your hand. Tingles shoot up your fingertips as he gently tugs you behind him. “Let’s go somewhere quiet.” you nod in response, trailing after him as he leads you down a long, dark hallway beside the bar. 

You pass doors, each of which have names on them, like offices. Except you know they’re probably not offices. At least not in the traditional sense. He stops close to the end of the hallway when he pulls out a key. You’ve stopped in front of the door labelled, Yuta.N. He gestures with a smile for you to go in first as he cracks open the door. 

You walk in, one hesitant step after the other as he follows you quietly. You’re taking aback when your eyes adjust to the dark atmosphere of the room. The only light being some LED’s scattered around. A four poster bed acts as the centrepiece of the room, and god does it attract your eyes. What catches your attention the most are the hardpoints attached to the posts all around and above the bed, not to mention other odd ones in different corners of the room. 

“They’re for suspension.” Yuta says softly from behind you, patiently letting you take in everything you need to. You nod in reply, casting your eyes to the ones above the couch and the bed to the few that’re just in the middle of the room. It’s daunting you can’t lie. 

There’s a dark chest that is situated near the couch and you can only imagine what’s inside it. This is some fucking fifty shades of grey shit, you think to yourself, a laugh of disbelief almost leaving your mouth. 

“You okay?” He asks, his voice still timid. Truth be told, Yuta's nervous about how you’ll react to everything. He knows you’ve never really delved into more accurate BDSM, and he wants nothing more than for you to want this. He’s been itching to get you into this room, all of his favourite things are in here and now you are too. 

“Yeah. It’s just a lot.” You mutter and Yuta nods even though you can’t see him. You turn around and he takes a moment to watch your expressions. “Just remember we’re not doing that tonight,” he lifts a hand to rub a thumb over your cheek and you sigh. “unless you want to.” he adds. “Okay.” you agree.

“Alright then, why don’t we get to the part you’ve been craving then?” He questions, and you nod your head. “y/n I really want you to speak up and talk to me okay?” he asks and your eyes widen. “That might’ve been how you did it with your ex, but for this to work for us, we need to communicate.” 

He’s right, with Ethan communication wasn’t really a thought. Verbal conversation didn’t matter as long as he got what he wanted, and you obviously never picked up that that’s not how this is supposed to work. It’s refreshing to be doing this with someone who knows what he's doing and wants to make sure you’re okay with it every step of the way. 

Though, it does little to calm you on the fact that Yuta is much more experienced than you. The only person that you ever participated in rope bondage with was Ethan, and you never paired it with suspension. Despite the nerves you have to admit that the thought makes your pussy clench embarrassingly. 

“Yes, Yuta. I want you to tie me up.” you try to say with confidence, your eyes holding contact with him. He smiles, relief flooding you. “Perfect. Let’s begin then.” He clasps his hands together, guiding you by your elbow to the centre of the room. 

You’ve talked about how he would tie you up for the first time, but he still talks you through it as he begins by pulling a few bunches of hemp rope from the dark chest. He unravels the first bunch, laying it in his palms before gesturing to you. “Take off your clothes, y/n. Did you wear what I told you to?” Your breath hitches, as it actually dawns on you. You’re doing this, and by the look on Yuta’s face, you’re gonna love it. 

“Yes, I did.” you reply, surely removing your woollen trench coat. The material falls to the ground, you only being left in the black bondage harness and heels he sent to you. It seems that now you’re without the coat, you’re feeling hot but when it was the only thing covering you, you were cold. It’s strange how your body reacts to him, a practical stranger. 

“Good girl.” he purrs, looking you up and down. You shudder at the compliment, satisfied to have pleased him. He steps close to you, picking up the coat and gesturing for you to take of the heels. You do and he walkd to the corner of the room before placing them on the coat and shoe rack. Your eyes track him as he does and when he comes back to stand in front of you, you find yourself wanting to kiss him. Yet, it feels forbidden.

His breath falls on your lips as yours is held in your throat, not wanting to ruin the moment by breathing. “On your knees, now.” is all he says and you’re falling to the ground before the sentence is finished. When your knees meet the hardwood your eyes peer up at him through your lashes. He pulls the rope through his fist, your attention shifting to his hands. They’re large and veiny, and you want them on you but you sit quietly and wait for his request, eager to please. 

“We’re gonna start today with something simple and pretty.” he starts fighting the urge to coo at the way you look up at him. “Shibari is a form of decorative tying as you probably know, but it’s also used for pleasure. That’s what we’ll be doing too.” he explains and your head becomes light with the thought of the ropes wrapped around you, all pretty and confined. 

Now, my little rope bunny,” he says, a tinge of admiration following the pet name. “I’m going to first start by doing ‘shinju’, which is a traditional breast bondage technique.” he adds nonchalantly, and it sends more wetness to your pussy, a throbbing ache already burying itself deep in your abdomen and he hasn’t even touched you yet. 

You nod, a weak ‘uh huh’ leaving your lips. He grins, kneeling down to your level where he starts to gently glide the rope across your skin. An involuntary groan escapes you and Yuta freezes. “Jesus, never had anyone react that quick.” He mutters, more to himself than to you. You nod, deciding whether or not to just say what you want to, in the end you bite the bullet, wanting to see how he reacts. “Was wet before it even touched me.” You let out breathily. 

Your eyes close in bliss as he continues, making the first knot. You hear a curse slip from his lips and you internally smile in glee, glad you’re having an impact on him like he does on you. True to the name ‘shinju’ the rope goes around your waist, under your breasts before wrapping around your shoulder and beneath your armpit. Circling around your neck creating a halter. It then goes between your breasts before looping under the rope beneath them. Yuta takes his time with the rope, truly enjoying the art he’s making. Finally, the end of the rope is wrapped the whole way around both of your breasts, forcing them to bulge outwards. 

Your nipples perk towards him, his fingertips brushing them making you moan again. God, the feeling of the rope tight on your skin is alike to nothing else. The way you sense you’re constricted is blissful. Yuta watches the way you react like a hawk. No one he’s ever done this with has reacted like you do and it's fascinating.

Goosebumps follow every part of your skin he touches, the rope making you gasp and breathe heavier every time he places it across a bare area. When he ties each knot with careful precision, you can’t help the way you feel like a piece of art. 

When he finishes the ‘shinju’, he sits back on his heels, admiring his work. A smile graces his gorgeous face and you can’t help the way your face mirrors his. “How does that feel?” he asks, tugging at the knots to make sure they are all firm but not too constricting. 

“Feels good.” You reply, surprising you both as your voice is cracked and strained like you’re already wrecked. He nods, keeping an eye on you. “Do you want to try ‘koutou ushiro te shibari’? It’s just a hands behind the head tie.” You know you’ve hardly gone deep into what Yuta knows, really only skimming the easiest methods from his knowledge. It’s just the way he sounds so confident about these different ties. Ethan was never like that, always unsure of himself and constantly hurting you. 

You nod, a small noise of agreement leaving you. He strokes your cheek adoringly and you shift slightly on your knees, the rope around your breasts tightening eliciting a moan from between your lips. Yuta chuckles, “you really are enjoying this aren’t you, bunny?” The pet name causes you to only moan in response. 

He stands and walks behind you. “Hands above your head.” He instructs and you obey. He never has to ask twice with you and he loves it. Grabbing your wrists he wraps a new piece of rope around your left one a few times before pulling it tight and doing the same with the other wrist, effectively binding them together. 

You grunt as he pulls them firmly before looping around the connective piece of rope between your wrists. He then brings the ends down your spine till it reaches your waist. Wrapping his arms around you he curls it around your waist, making a pretty knot at the back that sits in the curve of your spine. 

“There.” he sighs, admiring the way your arms are now restricted, folded towards your neck. You whimper, the soft rope tight around your waist making you wiggle against the delicious pressure. “Ok bunny, how would you feel about being attached to that hardpoint there.” He points to the metal ring hanging above you and you nod, a sound of compliance coming from your chest. 

“Alright, stand up then.” He says watching to make sure you’re okay. Your knees wobble, weak from being on your knees for so long but you manage to stand in a stable position. Shibari is beautiful but all beautiful things take time. Yuta probably spent over 30 minutes tying these knots on you, each pretty piece of rope accentuating your body features. 

Yuta turns around, going back to the dark chest and pulling out a longer piece of rope. Reaching above you, he loops the rope through the ring. Pulling it down tight, he walks behind you and ties it to your arm tie. He laces it into the knots, focusing on making it museum worthy. 

This is part of the reason you love rope bondage. The attention to detail and goal of perfection makes you feel like a art piece to be worshipped, like the Mona Lisa. It’s also very intimate, the time you spend together, both parties enjoying their role. The last aspect you love is the build up to the intimate part. Sometimes it takes hours to tie someone how they want and it’s all so exhilarating. 

You gasp as Yuta pulls the rope tight, not quite suspending you but your feet are only just still on the ground. You whine in disappointment, wanting to be fully suspended. Yuta laughs, “there’s gonna be other times, bunny. We can work up to it.” he says, dragging a finger around your waist as he walks to your front. 

His fingers catch the rope around your waist, pulling you toward him, effectively lifting your toes from the ground. Your weight pulls down on your arms’ muscles, the burn delicious but not enough to sustain for more than a few seconds.  “See.” he whispers into your ear, sending a chill through your body. Yuta’s right, you need to get stronger to be able to hold your own weight comfortably.

“I’m not going to tie your legs today either, I don’t think you could handle it to be honest.” he smirks as your face twists. He turns to go somewhere behind you, not being able to see him you whine out loud. “Be patient, bunny.” he scoffs as you hear what you presume to be a fridge door open and shut. He rummages around with a few different things where you can’t see him before he comes into your vision again. 

On a small tray he has an assortment of objects. A dark blindfold sits neatly next to a ball gag and a small bowl of ice cubes. The last object on the tray is something you’ve never seen before, it's not large and sorta egg shaped. Seeing your confusion at the object, Yuta picks it up, showing you closer. “It’s a vibrating egg, this goes into your sweet little pussy.” 

You suck in a breath, an innocent ‘oh’ leaving your parted lips and it takes everything in him to not kiss you. That’s what the gag is for. He gets close to you, the ball gag in hand before he brings it to your lips. “Open.” he demands and of course, you comply. He places the ball part in your mouth, tying it behind your head. It’s a comfortable size, you note, especially since you have a rather small mouth. 

Next he picks up the blind fold, navigating around your body so he’e behind you again. Bringing it over your eyes, you groan into the gag. He makes sure you can’t see before securing it and you must admit you’ve never been gagged and blinded before. Ethan usually wanted you mouth free and eyes open so you could suck him off. You can tell with Yuta though, that this is more about pleasuring you for him. 

Without your sight, everything immediately becomes more sensual. The only thing you can really count on is the hearing, due to your loss of touch as well. You listen closely as he shuffles around you, when suddenly he’s pressed against your back. You can feel all of him on you like this and you can’t help the noise that emits from you, muffled around the gag. 

His fingertips dance around your waist, moving to the front of your body before he reaches between your closed legs. “Part them.” he mutters deeply into your ear and you groan, complying instantly. Brushing over your pubic bone you begin to pant around the gag. The increase in the rise and fall of your chest causes the ropes around your breasts to tighten and loosen periodically. 

He finally tickles your clit with his fingers, only ghosting over it in a teasing manner. You shiver in his hold, body vibrating and he makes a noise of approval. “Such a good little bunny. So responsive.” he murmurs in your ear, flicking your clit harshly. Almost painfully, but you couldn’t give a fuck, a strangled moan slipping around the gag. Your hips buck, looking for his fingers and the fact you can’t see them, makes you drip. 

“Okay, no more teasing. Just know I’m being extra nice since it’s your first time.” He confirms in your ear. Oh, you know he would tease you for hours and not get sick of it. But you’re happy he’s serving it to you on a silver platter this time. You moan out in response, it being the only noise that gets past the gag in your mouth as drool begins to dribble from the corners of your lips. 

He runs his fingers through your folds, another moan leaving from deep within your chest. “So wet.” He muses to himself and you begin to blush. “Oh, don’t be embarrassed, bunny.” He’s coos into your ear. “It’s so sexy that I barely have to touch you and you’re ready to go for me.” You’re always ready, is what you want to say, but the gag would make that near impossible. 

His fingers dip into your soaking pussy, beginning to slowly pump in and out of you. You can’t help the string of muffled curses that you grumble out, nearly choking on your saliva as you do. “Careful, bunny. As much as I’d love to see you choke, it won’t be on your own accord.” Your eyes roll back at his words, your pussy squeezing around his fingers as he chuckles at the reaction he gets from you. 

Suddenly he slips something inside of you and you’re guessing it’s the egg toy. It feels foreign. Smooth and round, snug deep in your pussy. His fingers leave you and you whine, the noise pitiful as he pats your hair soothingly. You hear the sound of sucking and your heart rate increases. “Mhm, you taste good, little bunny.” he moans into your ear as he licks his fingers and you wish more than anything right now, that you could see him. 

You wiggle against your ropes, groaning as they tighten on your skin. You hear him laugh at you as you embarrass yourself. It only turns you on more. “Right. Are you ready to see just exactly what this little toy can do?” He asks. You nod in response, thinking he wouldn’t expect you to answer verbally. You were wrong. 

He slaps your thigh. Not as hard as you’d like, but hard enough to hurt a little. It makes your back arch against the ropes as you throw your head back, a deep, primal sound emitting from deep within your chest. “Answer me.” he demands and you try your best to be good and answer. A barely understandable ‘yes’ is filtered from your mouth, drool now running down your chin like a stream. 

He doesn’t even think before he leans in close to you, using his tongue to lick up the mess you’ve made of yourself. You let out a high pitched moan as your mind races. He’s so fucking dirty and you love it. He gets to the corner of your lips, where he flicks his tongue into your mouth briefly, before pulling away. A noise of disagreement leaves you and he looks on, amused and intrigued by you. 

He grips the little remote in his hand, pressing the on button. You immediately react. Your body jolts as the little toy vibrates to life and so it starts. You officially can’t keep the noises in and Yuta only encourages you with his sweet and filthy words. 

The feeling of the toy vibrating deep in your pussy is ecstacy. With both your sight and will to string together a sentence evaporated, you are left to only focus on your impending orgasm. Wanting to participate Yuta picks up an almost melted ice cube, running it across your already hardened nipple. 

The sting of the cold makes you hiss, the feeling a painful pleasure. He creates a process of making your abused nipple freeze, before defrosting it in his mouth then switching to the other. The sensations make your head loll to the side and Yuta notes that next time he should tie you so that your neck gets more support. 

Your toes still on the ground begin to tingle as you feel an orgasm rise in you. Your chest rises and falls more rapidly and Yuta notices. Nipping and pinching at your sensitive nipples brings you to the edge quicker. A final bite to your chest pushing you into your orgasm. 

However, Yuta doesn’t turn the toy off. You try to argue your disagreement around the gag as a couple moments pass. When he still makes no move to turn the little buzzing toy off, you wiggle in your restraints. “Shush, bunny. It’s alright, do you trust me.” He mumbles against your chest. Luckily a nod is enough to satisfy him this time as he replies, “Good girl.”

Quickly you’re brought to another orgasm, but before you can cum, Yuta is on his knees sucking your clit between his lips. When the cold touches your sensitive nerves you all but scream into the gag, thrashing as he loops his arms around your thighs to stop you from moving. Definitely tying your legs next time, he thinks to himself. 

You cum hard, but he still doesn’t stop. Tears begin to fall down your cheeks as you sob into the gag. “Aww, is my little bunny ready to throw in the towel already?” He asks, a degrading tone in his voice. You shake your head, a muffled ‘no’ crying from your sobbing mouth. 

“Just one more for me, bunny. I promise.” You nod your head, only wanting to please him so bad. Even though he makes every nerve in your body burn, he’s a flame you’d gladly walk into every time. “Good girl.”, he praises stroking your thigh adoringly. You’re absolutely perfect for him. 

He pops an ice cube in his mouth, ghosting over your poor, swollen clit once again as you sob harder, feeling his breath on you. He attaches his lips around it, a broken moan turning into a weak scream as he places the ice cube directly on your clit. With the egg still vibrating inside you, his lips sucking your clit and the damned ice cube making it throb, you stand absolutely no chance. 

You cry out loud as you cum again. At this point a mix of your tears and drool stream down your face and neck, while cum dribbles down your thighs. Yuta wastes none of it, sucking your sticky thighs clean of the substance, caressing your skin as he does. 

After a few moments he’s quick to stand up. You hear him behind you before he loosens the rope holding you up, the slack causing your knees to collapse as you try to hold your own weight again. He catches you, arm securely wrapped around your waist as he guides you to the bed where he swiftly removes all the rope from your body.

When he removes your blindfold and gag, you begin to hiccup as your eyes adjust to the dim room before landing on him. He’s looking at you proudly with a hint of worry showing on his features. “You okay, y/n?” he asks softly. You nod, a quiet ‘yeah’ forming as your jaw adjusts to being closed again. 

Every muscle in your body burns, and this is the last part of rope bondage you love. The way you can always feel it long after you’re finished. He grabs a damp towel and begins to gently wipe the sweat, cum and drool from your body before you collapse into him. He hugs you close to him and you feel completely safe and satisfied. 

“That was amazing.” you sigh into him, and you swear you almost feel him deflate around you. “That’s good, I’m glad you did.” He mumbles into the top of your head. 

“Next time we should stretch first though.” you grumble and he laughs, his whole body vibrating and you can’t help but laugh lightly too. 

“Okay.” he replies, obeying you for the first time tonight.

[sadesluvr]

PROJECT: Emily (Henry Emily x GN! Reader)

Summary: Moving into a new town, you discover that your new neighbour ticks all the boxes. He’s hot, has an adorable daughter and is, most importantly, single. (Henry Emily x GN!Neighbour!Reader)

Note: Reader is in their late 20′s/early 30′s, and Henry is in his late 30′s/early 40′s, but nothing is specified. Whatever you chose the age gap to be, he’s definitely older than you! Also, Henry does NOT look like how he’s depicted in the books...

A/N: This was a fill from an anon ask! I had free time and I’ve been meaning to write for Henry hence the quick turnaround! (TYSM for sending it <3) Feel free to request things through my ask box :) 

This is also my first Tumblr fic post (it’ll  be crossposted to AO3) so apologies if the format is off!

Word count: 5.5K (I talk too much omfg)

Tags: SMUT,  Fluff, age-gaps, creampies, Henry being a DILF...

It was during the spring when you’d met Henry Emily. You’d moved to a new town, where you could somehow actually afford a decent home at a good price, and so you wanted to do something nice for your neighbours as a ‘Please-accept-me-I’m-new-here’ gift. There were a lot of families in the area, and so you decided that cupcakes were the best option. How could you go wrong?

For starters, it would’ve helped if you’d had sugar.

Needless to say, you weren’t going to make the arduous journey to the store and back in the very middle of baking; and so you found the courage to ask your neighbours. After all, you were going to have to bite the bullet some day, weren’t you? Although people would’ve been more receptive to cupcakes in hand, they would have to respond to you somewhat decently - after all, they were your new ‘community’.

Mr and Mrs Henderson lived next door, and they had gone boating for the day (as you’d come to learn from the agonisingly loud sound of heavy equipment moving at 5AM) so they weren’t an option. Next door to them was a family, of whom you were rather ashamed to admit you didn’t know of yet. How could you knock on the door so brazenly? Were they even home? What would you say?

Your fears were cut short as the door swung open, causing you to immediately blurt out:

“Can I borrow a cup of sugar?”

The man blinked, and you thought he was going to laugh at you, which made you cringe and shrink into a ball internally, which was particularly awful considering the fact that he was quite attractive. He stood at somewhere over six feet, with auburn hair, tanned skin, and a burly build. He had a full, but trimmed beard, and was wearing a blue apron with a loose t-shirt underneath that exposed his large arms. He came across a bit like a bear, and if it wasn’t for a pair of reading glasses that sat atop his head you would’ve been scared of him, but, for some reason, the accessory felt rather comforting and homely.

“Of course,” the man said, with a smile, immediately stepping aside to let you in, which surprised you. Though, what surprised you more was the fact that you so calmly walked in, despite knowing him for all of thirty seconds. What if he was a pervert? A serial killer, even? 

“Although I don’t usually lend things to strangers…” he said knowingly, his voice trailing off.

“Oh!” You gasped, totally startled. “Er - I’m Y/N - I just moved in — I live just after the Henderson’s…”

“Oh of course!” the man exclaimed, rubbing his beard as you both entered the kitchen. “Charlie told me there was a moving van, I've just been so busy that I didn’t get to stop by and introduce myself — Gosh, I’m getting ahead of myself!” he said, stopping to take a breath. “Charlotte is my daughter. I’m Henry - Henry Emily, it’s good to meet you,” he said, his voice clear, confident, and genuine. He seemed like a good man - certainly not one who’d harvest your insides - and so you took a breath, subtly relaxing yourself.

“I’m Y/N…” you said somewhat shyly, hyper-aware as to how much bigger the man was compared to you. “It’s nice to finally meet a neighbour, no one’s really passed by…”

“They can be like that sometimes,” Henry said dismissively, opening the cupboard. “As long as you keep the music down past 9PM, and don’t have any pets that could ruin their flower patches, you’ll get along with them,” he chuckled, and you smiled back. There was an air of homely easiness to him, and, whether it was the house itself or the fact that he smelt like an intoxicating blend of cinnamon and pinewood, you felt warm.

Perhaps it was something else? Something deeper, and primal…

“Here you go!” he announced, drawing you from your thoughts as he slid the item over the counter.  “A cup of sugar. Though, you can’t really borrow it from me because I can’t get it back…”

“Uh - ? Oh… “ you chuckled awkwardly, resisting the urge to facepalm. “Thanks Mr Emily,”

“Mister?”  He gasped. “Surely you’re not that young to have to call me that. Please, just call me Henry,” he said with a smile and you nodded.

“Sure thing…” you said, trailing off. “I’d love to meet Charlotte someday, if she’s up to it…”

“Oh, she always is! She loves making new friends, and I’m sure you’ll be no exception,” he beamed, beginning to move away from the counter and walked you towards the door. He opened it, and as you stopped on the porch he paused and leaned against the door. “Perhaps we’ll have you over for dinner. I can’t remember the last time I cooked for someone that wasn’t myself or Charlie,” he chuckled, his voice slowly trailing off, as if he were remembering something. It was then that you looked down at his folded arms, and realised that there was no wedding ring on his left finger. 

Interesting.

“Thanks Henry,” you smiled again, this time biting your lip. Perhaps you were getting ahead of yourself, but you could definitely see yourself becoming ‘accosted’ with him in the long run…

If he was truly single, that was. 

“Well…You know where I live now, so please don’t be a stranger, Mr Emily,” you said, your demeanour instantly changing to one of easy confidence, and your voice dropping an octave, laced with coyness. The man briefly raised his brows, and his hand adjusted the glasses that sat atop his head. Perhaps you’d made him nervous.

You better hope so! You’d much rather him be nervous than uncomfortable.

Waving, you sauntered back down the porch steps, your legs shaking and heart pounding some kind of a lustful-fluster. 

One thing was for sure: He was certainly hot, but he did seem to be on the older side - perhaps at least a decade older than you? You weren’t a wide eyed, naive spring chicken, but it wasn’t as if you were fully mature, either - would he really fall for you? Could he fall for you? Was their room in his life for another person, considering he seemed wholly devoted to his daughter? 

Only time would tell.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It was two weeks later when Henry had stopped by. Although you’d met Charlie that very weekend, the man had seemingly given you some space to ‘settle in’, and, if it wasn’t for the fact that you were dealing with an absolute asshole of a contractor, you would’ve been freaking out over the thought of alienating yourself from the man with your blatant flirting.

Yet, that didn’t seem to be the case, as you were startled by a knock on your door, and, to no (but a pleasant) surprise, it was the Emily duo. Charlie’s hair was in two tiny pigtails that stuck out above her head, and was wearing her oversized backpack with a yellow t-shirt and lilac shorts and plimsolls, whilst Henry opted for a more low-key look, with a burgundy coloured Henley and loose jeans. The buttons on his shirt were cracked slightly, and you could see that he was wearing a makeshift necklace made out of cereal (courtesy of none other than Charlotte herself), which sat atop his broad chest, where a few hairs peeled out from between the fabric.

Did he know what he was doing, or was he just an oblivious, bumbling dork?

“Y/N!” Charlie said happily as you high fived her, stepping aside to let the girl in as her father followed. He nodded his head in an acknowledging manner, and, just as you closed the door the sunlight caught his brown eyes - within them nothing but a pool of warmth and goodness. He smiled at you before focusing his attention back on Charlie, who was running around the house like a madman.

“Please be careful, okay?” you called out. “There’s still stuff lying around…I don’t want you to get hurt!”“I’ll be extra extra safe, I promise!” She said happily, and you could hear her delving into the couch and slapping the cushions like a drum.Henry chuckled as you both followed the sound of the girl, looking around the house. The walls were still somewhat bare, the flooring was half done and there was a lack of furniture…Anywhere.“We just wanted to come around and see how you’re settling in…” he said ambiguously, and you bit your lip at the very obvious elephant in the room - your house was far from being a home.“…Goodness,” he began. “Everything’s —“

“All over the place? Yeah,” you scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “My contractor is a B-I-T-C-H —“ you spelt out, careful as to not let Charlie hear. “Forgive my language - all of my furniture is delayed or out of stock, and I don’t know how to fix a floor to save my life!”you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “All I know how to do is paint the walls, and even that’s taking forever!”

“Paint?” Charlie perked up. “I like to paint!” she said, swinging her feet in anticipation. 

“You do, don’t you, Charlie?” Henry said, having his ‘lightbulb’ moment. “Why don’t we help you finish? I know my way around some tools, so I’m not a stranger to home repair…”

“Really?” You gasped, pretending to consider it. Like hell were you going to say no to him tinkering around your house, sweaty, with his muscles rippling as he toyed with and manoeuvred and carved and pounded —

Seems like you’re thinking about something more than housework.

“Thanks Henry!” you exclaimed, pulling him into an unexpected hug, of which he returned. Your arms fit snugly around his thick body, and you felt yourself melt into his comforting scent…Until Charlie joined the circle.

“I want a hug too!” she said, pushing her little body in between, making the two of you chuckle. It was that moment that you made eye contact with Henry - and you realised that he had a little blush on his face. For some reason, it felt like you were both Charlie’s parents.

Maybe you could be one day.

Maybe…

“I guess we’ll be spending more time together,” he said somewhat shyly, as he pulled away and looked around the house. He hadn’t even seen upstairs yet and he knew that it was going to be a long-term project.

Not that he minded, anyway. He’d been meaning to find a way to get to know you better, you were easily the friendliest person on the block, and, most importantly, Charlie adored you. In his mind, her opinion was law.

“It’s nice to get out of the house and go somewhere that isn’t work or school…Even if you’re a door or two away,” he chuckled, and you smiled.

“You’re lucky I don’t live directly next door,” you smirked. “I’d never leave you two alone,”

“There’s always room for one more…Especially if it’s you,” he smiled.

“Oh really?” You said, raising a brow knowingly, your voice barely a whisper. “Why ‘especially’ me?”

“Well, we like you…” he said nervously, diverting his gaze from you. Was he blushing? Oh God, he was blushing! Like a total schoolboy.

“Is that both of the Emily’s speaking, or just Henry?” you pushed, raising a brow.

“Both…” he mumbled. “For sure,” he said, anxiously clearing his throat.

“Well, I can’t wait to have you!” you said, clapping your hands together. “Around, that is. Let’s not worry the children,” you tutted playfully, nodding to Charlie who had zoned out completely, rambling to herself about all of the lovely colours she was going to paint the walls. You smiled down at the girl, giving Henry a moment to compose himself from your comment. 

You just couldn’t help yourself sometimes.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Henry and Charlotte had done just as they said, and their spare afternoons and evenings after work and school were spent helping you around the house. Whilst Charlie happily sploshed paint in the smaller, obscure crevices of the wall, Henry did the harder, grittier jobs - assisting you in moving your fridge, washing machine, and had even managed to fix your car while he was at it! With every movement of his body, every intense twitch of focus on the task you admired him, pretending to paint the skirting boards, whilst you were really imagining what he’d look like from your position on your knees.

Little did you know he was doing the exact same, albeit as respectfully as he could. He’d sneak a glance at you every now and then as he’d change the screws or drills, quickly averting his attention to his daughter or the task at hand when he thought you had noticed him. He couldn’t help it, really, you were quite - as they’d say in his day - the ‘looker’.

One Saturday the duo hadn’t come around, and you found that the house felt rather empty and dreary without them, even though your house was beginning to feel more homely and full by the minute.

Get used to it, sweetheart, they’re not your family.

You decided to turn in early that night, throwing on an oversized t-shirt over your bare torso, and a tiny, barely there pair of shorts. You really needed to go clothes shopping.

Just as you were about to relax, there was a sudden knock on the door, making you jump instantaneously. Who could that be? You weren’t expecting anyone, and your neighbours certainly weren’t going to introduce themselves at 8PM at night. There were no weapons to arm yourself with in case of a robber, and you considered ignoring them...Until you realised who it could be.

Rushing down the stairs, you flung open the door, only to find Henry himself.

“God, I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, stepping aside to let the man in. “I totally forgot that Charlie was with her aunt, and that you were coming tonight…” you rambled, trying to make sense of it all as you simultaneously tried to pull down your shorts. If someone didn’t know any better, they would’ve thought you were half nude.

“It’s not a big deal,” Henry chuckled awkwardly, removing his jacket and placing it on a peg. “It’s my fault - what sort of a chump comes to fix lighting at 8PM at night?”

Snickering at his vanilla language, you made sure to make him feel better.

“You’re just a generous chump, I suppose,” you laughed. “Well, either that or you’re a chump with not-so-pure intentions…”

“If you’re uncomfortable, I can leave,” he said quickly. “I’ve got all day to myself tomorrow, I can easily come back…”

“No! Please, stay,” you said, your voice low and throaty. “In fact, why don’t you leave the tinkering for tonight? I’ve got some beer in the fridge, how about we get to know each other a little better?”

Henry gulped, and stroked his beard before he spoke up again.

“I suppose we could do with a break…”

“Great!” you exclaimed, pointing to the couch. “I’ll be right back - Don’t get cold feet, okay?”

Henry nodded, and found himself overthinking how to sit on the furniture. Legs spread? Was that too crude? Crossed? Too formal? Hunched into a corner? Was that too rude and uninviting?

He felt like a teenager again, sitting next to his crush in class and unsure of how to make even the smallest bit of conversation without combusting entirely. Was he too old to feel like this? You were at least a decade younger than him, and whilst you were clearly old enough to drink and own your own home, he couldn’t help but feel a little…Uncomfortable?

Yes, you flirted with him, but you were young - it likely came naturally! You could easily just be using him for free food and labour and such, and, once you’d gotten what you’d wanted eventually, turn a blind eye to him. 

What if you were using him to get to Charlie?

He shuddered at the thought. It was a parents worst nightmare, especially if they were a single parent like him. After all, Henry knew he wore his heart on his sleeve, and that he was deeply in tune with his emotions; which made him a rather easy target to many. Surely you weren’t that kind of a person, were you?

You seemed kind, confident and funny; traits that he deeply admired in an individual, not to mention you were extremely attractive to him, especially in those shorts of yours.

He blushed just thinking about it. How long had it been since he’d had deep, emotional human contact? How long since you’d last been able to —

“Hey! You’re still here!” You smiled, handing him a beer with a paper towel around it as you perched on the armrest. “I didn’t know if you wanted it in a glass or not, but I figured you look like a man who chugs it right from the bottle,” you giggled, and he nodded.

“Astute observation, Y/N, though you wouldn’t be the first to liken me to a lumberjack of the sort! I know I look like a very forward and staunch bloke, but I’m as frail as a lamb really,”

“Bloke? Frail as a lamb? What fancy language,” you snorted at the sheer formality of his wording. 

“Forgive me, my work colleague is British,” Henry chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. “I’ve picked up so much from him, it’s unbelievable,”

“Finally!” you exclaimed happily, nudging him. “I’ve learned something about you that isn’t Charlie-based! A British friend, huh? Are you guys close?”

“Thick as thieves…He’s got three kids, and I’m like their Uncle, I suppose,”

“Wow,” you said. “That’s pretty cute,”

“I try,” he said bashfully, his body tensing slightly as you slipped next to him, but giving him enough space so that he was comfortable around you. You rested your back against the armrest, folding your legs to your chest so that your shirt rode up your thigh, your privates somewhat visible through the shorts. 

Was it seduction? A little, but it was your house. You had a right to be comfortable!

“So,” you said, clearing your throat. “What other friends do you have?”

“Not many, really,” Henry said, playing with the bottle. “I know some of Charlie’s friends' parents, but that’s it…”

“Aww, why?” you pouted. “You’re such a great guy!”

“I'm not very sociable…I’ve always been a rather awkward kid,” he said, now strangely relaxing into the cushions. He didn’t look at you, but you could tell that he was starting to feel more comfortable in himself. “I would usually wait until someone else made the first move, just to be sure. Even then, it felt rather unnatural to me…”

“I understand,” you said, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, trying to not get too carried away in the act. How could he simultaneously be soft and homely yet bold and muscly? “I’m like that too…”

“Really?” he said, utterly taken aback. “You seem rather carefree to me,”

“What, just because I’m young? Not all ‘youngins are loud and boisterous, Grandpa,” you snickered, and he shook his head. “I guess we’re similar. We’re both a little shy, but once you break us out of our shells we can get a little…”

“What? Rowdy?” Henry interjected.

“I was going to say freaky…” You giggled, playing with the bottle and stroking it in a fairly suggestive manner.

“I’m not familiar with the newer lingo. What does that mean?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what it means…”

“I —“ Henry stopped himself, his cheeks turning as red as his hair. “You’re playing a very dangerous game, Y/N,“

“I like it that way,” you said softly, biting your lip. “Besides, it wouldn’t hurt for you to give in just once, would it? You work so hard, you deserve a release…”

Henry sighed, and put down his bottle before turning to look at you. Your eyes were wide with want, and also genuine affection - how could he say no? He knew he wanted it too, and you were offering it to him…It was everything he wanted!

“Y-You know I’m older, right? I’m sure there are people your age who are better than me…” he said nervously.

“Henry, I want this,” you said sincerely, taking his hand in your own. “I want you…Even if it doesn’t amount to anything, we can always go back to being friends!”

Of course you wanted to be more than friends, but Henry was such a sweet person to be around that you couldn’t imagine your days without a friendly wave from him, not to mention Charlie, in her entirety. 

“So…Ahem,” he said somewhat uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,”

You crawled towards each other, and Henry planted a soft kiss on your lips, his beard tickling your cheeks as you cupped his face, allowing yourself to melt into him. There was that all too familiar scent; that earthly, serene yet overpowering musk that you’d come to associate with the man. He didn’t stay on you for long, seemingly not wanting to agitate you, but as he pulled away, you noticed a certain something down below. Perhaps the brief kiss meant more to him than you’d thought.  “Henry,” you sighed, your lips lush and moist with want. “Please don’t be shy…You won’t hurt me, I promise,”

“I just — You’re like poison to me Y/N,” he said nervously. “I haven’t had a partner in so long…And you’re so beautiful — I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back…”

“Let go,” you said, your voice barely a whisper as you stroked his beard, staring into his warm brown eyes in the process. Whether it was alcohol or lust, his pupils were dilated, and he looked strangely vulnerable, which enticed you even more. “For me…Please,”

Henry nodded, and you crawled into him again, but this time he didn’t hold back. The kiss was still soft, but had a powerful, tender passion to it, leaving you with no choice but to surrender. You’d awoken something within him, and none of you ever wanted to turn back. Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck as your lips moved in tandem, as his ones found your hips, briefly grazing your buttocks, and back to your waist, hoisting you up effortlessly.

“Mmh — Copping a feel there, are we Mr Emily?” you teased, whispering into his mouth as you worked together to position yourself so that you were straddling him. “You can do it a little harder than that…I don’t bite…” you purred, and Henry moaned in response, his large hands massaging your ass. You could feel his erection through your shorts, where you were equally getting hot in yours. 

Slowly, you began to grind your hips against his thighs, and he pulled away from the kiss to stare at you in total admiration.He was panting, his face was glowing and his hair had begun to become unkempt from your excessive rustling. He looked like a pornstar, a far cry from his wholesome dad status that had initially drawn you to him.

“Bedroom?” He said, his voice gravelly, and you were partly stunned at the quickness of his statement.

“Yes,”

“Is it done?”

“Does it matter? We’re gonna end up messing it up anyway…”

Henry shook his head, pushed himself up, and began to carry you up the stairs.

“There aren’t any loose nails about, are there? I’ve heard you could get tetanus from one —“

“Henry! Don’t worry about that stuff!” you giggled. “You’re such a dad,”

“I'm getting older, you know —“

“Yes, yes,” you said playfully. “We know. Jeez, you’re not senile!”

“How do you know?”

“Something in your pants is telling me otherwise…”

“Oh!” Henry said, blushing as he lay you on the bed. The room was totally bare (at least it was somewhat done up) “I’m sorry,”

“Don’t apologise! I take it as quite the compliment,” you purred, beginning to peel off your shirt, so that you were topless. Henry took a moment to look down at you, admiring your semi-bare form as he took off his own shirt, remaining in a white vest.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbled. “How on Earth did I get so lucky to end up with a neighbour like you?”

“Good things come to those who wait…” you said smugly. “…You’re going to get even luckier soon,”

“Hmm?” he questioned, sitting on the bed and caressing your torso, stroking and kissing your skin in total adoration. His hands were slightly calloused, but were still comforting, and if you had more than a loaf of bread and milk in your house you’d have broken out some baby oils. “What’s that mean…?”

“Lie back, and you’ll see,”

“Okay,” he nodded, beginning to relax himself. “Wait!” He interjected, sitting up to look at you as he realised what was about to happen. “I can’t ask that of you…”

“Let me at least feel it, Hen…” you said, palming his erection through his pants as you began to unzip them. “Just a little?”

“Just a — Oohh,” he hissed, letting out some air through his teeth as your hands came into contact with his cock. Luckily for you, the carpet did indeed match the drapes - he had a wild patch of reddish-brown hair around his base, and he was roughly six inches, with a decent girth. 

No wonder he was so shy and calm, he was totally packing and he knew it.

It was a fresh, peachy shade of pink, and some precum had begun to sprout from the head. Smirking, you gripped it, one hand stabilising the base as the other stroked it up and down; agonisingly slowly. The man’s eyes were shut, and his teeth grazed his bottom lip as he seemed to fixate on his breathing, letting out small, but long moans from his chest.

“Oh, Y/N…That’s —“

“Am I making you feel good, Henry? It feels like you’ve been needing this,” you giggled as his heavy cock twitched. He opened his eyes, staring at you intently as he nodded.

“I’m going to need to hear you say it, I’m afraid…” you teased.

“Mfh — Y/N — I -“ he stumbled, utterly wrapped up in the calming sensation. “You feel so good, I might —“

You immediately pulled your hands away, not wanting to embarrass him, and he ran his hands across his beard in shock, licking his lips as he did. He was about to open his mouth, when you did the work for him.

“How do you want me, Mr Emily?” You said, with a curious head tilt and wide eyes.

“In my lap…Straddle me like you did downstairs,”

You did exactly that, and the man kissed you again as he pulled off your shorts, running the material down your legs so that they pooled at your ankles.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” he said sincerely, and you weren’t sure whether it was the glow of the moon, or just a simple nightlight, but it was then that you wanted him to consume you entirely. It was deep, and it was primal, an emotion that you exhibited through your frantic and passionate movements, of which he mirrored, adjusting himself so that his tip lined up with your entrance.

You locked eyes with each other, and with a small nod he entered you, causing your spine to arch in an almost inhuman way, and for the man to groan with relief. It had simply been too long since he’d been inside someone, and he shut his eyes in sheer pleasure as he accosted himself with the warm, squeezing sensation. You gripped onto his broad chest for support, burying your face into his neck as his hands found your waist, slowly moving your hips up and down his shaft.

“Henry — You’re so big— I don’t know if I can take it all…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he said in an assuring manner, stroking your skin. “I’ll be gentle. You don’t have to take it all — it’s all about making us both feel good…”

“O-Okay,” you nodded, but you desperately wanted to consume him, just to see his face twist and contort with sheer pleasure.

Once you felt comfortable, you began to move up and down his shaft, your hips slowly falling into a gentle rhythm as he thrust up into you. One arm was on your waist, and the other steadying your back, guiding you through the motions as you engulfed his throbbing cock. 

Henry’s moans turned into grunts as you began to circle your hips, making his cock twitch with desire as you took him so eagerly.

“Am I hurting you?” You said, eyes wide and lips pouted.

“The complete opposite, actually,” he chuckled. Even in the heat of the moment he still managed to possess his charming dorkiness.

“You’re so cute,” you giggled, pecking his cheek and throwing your head back in ecstasy.

“Not bad for an old man, huh?” He smirked, caressing your cheeks to stare at you again. He seemed to like doing that.

“Please stop calling yourself old,” you gasped. “You’re easily fucking me like a thirty year old,”

“Twenty five year old,” he bargained.

“Twenty- seven,”

“Deal,” he chuckled, beginning to slam his hips up into yours, creating a clapping sound. His thrusts were becoming more confident with every movement, and as you found yourself slowing down, he was quickening his pace. 

Both his hands steadied your hips, and he leaned forward so that your body lay on the bed, whilst your hips were inverted, resting on his strong thighs. He began to pound you from this angle, admiring the way your body looked all sprawled out below him, leaning down to plant kisses along your chest and neck. 

You, on the other hand, were in a sheer state of bliss, to the point that you could barely see straight. None of your college hookups had been able to fuck you like this, like an animal, but also deeply intuitively and caring.

Henry’s muscles were rippling, and he began to wobble, signalling to you that he was getting close.

“Uh - Mmfh - Y/N…” he moaned. “I’m gonna — Are you close?”

“Mmfh…” you nodded, unable to speak. “Please - Don’t pull out…” you begged, and Henry’s eyes widened, letting out a groan at the very thought of filling you up.

“Oh - I’m gonna — Fuck…” he whispered, cursing for what felt like the first time. His total bliss sent you over the edge, your body wobbling as you came, just as Henry keeled over, stabilising himself with his hands either side of you, panting as his chest rumbled. His eyes were shut, his hair glued to his forehead, and whispered sweet nothings as he pumped loads of his hot seed inside of you, for what felt like forever. He was so pent up that he thought he might’ve burst into millions of segments, like a firework on New Years Eve. Sighing, he tried to catch his breath as he withdrew from you, some of his remains leaking out of your hole as he fell beside you, his arm instinctively wrapping around your body and pulling you closer to him.

You swallowed some saliva, trying to desperately lubricate your throat as you scrambled to find the words for what just happened.

“You’re right…You do fuck like a twenty five year old…”

“It helps when the stimuli looks something like you,” he chuckled, drawing you to his chest as he kissed your forehead. You shut your eyes, drowning yourself in his embrace. Of course the scent was there,  and although it was mixed with sweat and sex hormones, you didn’t mind in the slightest.

It was silent for a few moments until you spoke up.

“Henry?”

“Yes?”

“Can you stay the night? It’s cold, and the room is bare…”

“I can’t believe you’d assume I’d leave,” he chuckled, rubbing your upper back soothingly. His chest slowly began to drop to its regular levels, and you traced the outline of his pectorals as you did, finding yourself growing weary by the minute. You yawned, and you didn’t know it, but he smiled down at you.

“You know - I really like you…” you said drowsily. “I think we could make great neighbours…”

“Just neighbours?”

“We’ll see…” you teased. “Don’t get too cocky now, you haven’t even taken me out for dinner yet…” you finished with another yawn, your eyes now fluttering shut.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he chuckled. “Sleep well,” he finished, kissing your forehead once again. As your hearts slowed down from their high, Henry knew that you were the one. Even if it was temporary, he owed it to himself to see where the two of you could go together. 

-FIN.

[littleskeletonprincessss]

Anniversary

Congratulations you all get a lil schlatt smut that my brain won't let go so i'm writing it so I can get enough sleep to go to church tomorrow. MDNI below the break!

Lol I thought about titling this 'blurb' but uh nvm i guess.

"Shut the fuck up, broad."

"Oh real original, Schlatt. That's all you can come up with? Dumbass. I know it's so terrible that I wanted you home at a decent hour on our goddamn anniversary!"

"You know what, you're on your own tonight. I'm going out where I won't be annoyed to shit."

Schlatt had slammed the door shut after grabbing his keys and jacket.

Schlatt had had a slight temper as long as you'd known him, and you were usually able to put up with it. You were usually the one to talk him down from his tantrums.

But tonight you were in a bad mood when he finally opened the front door after being at work all day. It was your anniversary, and not only had he done nothing to acknowledge it all day, not even a quick text, he was late for the dinner you'd spent all week learning and all afternoon cooking. You'd even told him that morning that you were making something special for dinner and to please not be late.

You knew how hard he worked to provide for your little family, and it's not that you weren't grateful, it was just less of a family without him and instead a pathetic lonely woman with her cats.

When he'd finally opened the front door, he'd walked in, stumbling over one of Jambo's toys that the tabby had dragged around all day wanting to play with you.

"Y/N what the fuck is this? I spend all day at work and you can't even bother to clean up?"

That's what had started the back and forth yelling match bringing you to your current place, sitting at the kitchen counter, picking at the meal you'd prepared, the spat chasing your appetite away, but not your thirst, which was evident by the emptying bottle of wine you'd opened.

You missed the Schlatt you dated before Youtube, Twitch, Chuckle Sandwich, Sleep Deprived, and the growing list of his companies. Before he was always so high strung and stretched this way and that. He'd come home, excited to sit down for dinner to tell you about his day. You two would move to the couch for a movie before eventually making your way to bed. You missed the simple, happy moments when you'd adopted Jambo, and then later when you'd adopted his brother.

You loved Schlatt, you really did. But did you deserve the attitude that he always seemed to have?

Deciding you'd had enough, you pushed your plate away and climbed the stairs to your bedroom. Opening the closet you reaching to the top shelf to pull down your suitcase, laying it on the bed and unzipping it to start filling it with anything you'd need for a temporary hotel stay.

While putting the last few items in, you heard the front door for the 3rd time that night. Schlatt didn't say anything, but you heard him hanging his jacket and walking to the kitchen before starting towards the stairs.

"Honey?"

You stayed silent, as you heard him move his way down the hall, his heavy footfalls signaling his every move.

Zipping your suitcase you lifted it off the bed and onto the floor as Schlatt stepped into the doorway.

"Baby, what are you doing?" he asked, eyeing the suitcase in your hand.

"I think we need some space, Schlatt. Obviously we're having some issues and I think it's best we spend some time away from each other."

"What? No. Sweetheart, please." Schlatt grabbed your wrist trying to pull you to him.

"Let me go, Schlatt."

"No, y/n. Please lets talk about this." Being as strong as he was, despite your resistance Schlatt was able to sit on the bed, pulling you into his lap.

Pushing off his lap, you opted for sitting next to him, crossing your arms and bringing your knees up.

"Baby i'm so sorry for earlier...It'd been a long day, and I know that's no excuse for yelling but I--"

Sighing, you uncrossed your arms slightly, leaning your head back against the headboard.

"It wasn't just that, Schlatt." you said, cutting him off. "I'm used to being your punching bag after work. Someone to vent you frustrations to. But what made it worse tonight was that tonight, of all nights, I asked you to be home on time for dinner. I thought I'd do something nice for our anniversary." You whispered sadly, your head falling to look at your lap.

"Shit, I forgot. Baby, I'm so so sorry." Schlatt brought an arm around your shoulders, leaning and pulling you to rest on him. He placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "Let me make it up to you? We can go downstairs, heat up dinner, pretend earlier never even happened. We can even watch one of those cheesy movies you like. Cuddle on the couch, just you, me and the boys. Huh? How's that sound?" You could hear the hope in his voice.

"Schlatt, I'm sorry. But I don't think i'm in the mood for any of that anymore."

Schlatt let out a defeated sigh. "Okay, baby. How about a bath? I'll make you up a nice one with candles, a bath bomb, nice warm water, a nice relaxing bath."

"I don't know, Schlatt-"

"Sugar, please. Let me try and fix this." Schlatt looked at you with the desperate puppy dog eyes, big and brown, he'd learned you couldn't resist over the course of your relationship.

Seeing those eyes made you almost forget why you were upset with him. Hearing his desperate pleas, and how much he wanted to set things right, this was the Schlatt you'd fallen in love with.

Giving in, you pull him into a kiss. Feeling his shoulders relax some, knowing he'd broken through the icy exterior you were giving him, he whimpered into your kiss, he wrapped one arm around your back, holding you close as he leaned more into the kiss, moving to lying you down, hovering over you.

As the wine you'd had earlier started to kick in, the kisses got less gentle, and the touches got a little less innocent, while the feelings of love, passion, sorrow, forgiveness, were all heightened. This was nowhere near your first time having sex with Schlatt, but few times before had it felt this way.

As you drew closer to your climax, you looked up at the man hovering over you, arms on either side of your head supporting the majority of his weight as the rest pressed deliciously against you, his hips snapping at a steady rhythm into you, soft grunts escaping his lips.

Threading your fingers through his dark curls, you pulled him into another kiss, one that your tried pouring your entire heart into. Every feeling, every thought you tried conveying through it. Schlatt did the same, as his thrusts sped up, pressing deeper into you, and you moaned into each others mouths as you came together.

Pressing his forehead against yours, grounding each other as you came down from your high, Schlatt pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Please don't fucking scare me like that ever again, y/n. Please don't give up on me. Don't give up on us."

"Oh baby, I won't. I promise."

"I'm serious, Princess." Schlatt stated, looking into your eyes. "My love, you are the most important thing in my life and the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, bar none. If I ever lost you-" Schlatt choked out the last sentence, as he looked away.

"Schlatt, baby are you crying?" You whispered, bringing his face back to yours. He wasn't making eye contact with you anymore, but now that he was facing you, you were able to see the tears forming in his eyes. "Oh, handsome, come here." You cooed, pulling his head down towards you. Schlatt buried his face in your neck, and you could feel the hot tears he had been trying to hide, your fingertips trailing across his bare back as you comforted him, trying to calm the deep breaths he took as he cried into your neck.

"I love you, Schlatt." You whispered in his ear, once his sobs had quieted.

"I love you, y/n. So much."

A few minutes passed as you laid in each others warmth, soaking in the raw feelings hanging in the air.

"So about that bath.." You started, smiling feeling Schlatt grin into your shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. In a minute. I was at work all day you know and just went through some very extraneous activity."

[httpsbearily]

☆*: Lost Time

[D.C.]: @thepathofpain

[Tags]: brutus x reader | GN reader | fluff & smut

Minors Do Not Interact

[Author’s Note]: I absolutely loved writing this piece, I had to cut some parts out because it was becoming a whole ass book…rip. Anyways, reader displays physical characteristics of a kit fox because I needed a desert animal [mauler] for the plot and I just so happened to have written a research paper on these guys a few months ago. two birds, one stone. too easy!

A life in the desert was not for the weak or incapable. This was a lesson you had learned the hard way when growing up. You were born into a clan of fierce warriors, strong fighters, and battle champions. To the members of your clan, dueling was the highest honor, only triumphed by victory of said duel. Strength, prowess, skill…these were all qualities that were revered by your clan and any who didn’t sport all three would be lucky to be considered decent at the very least.

It was with the luck of being born on a red moon that had you lacking two of the three characteristics. While you weren’t weak, you couldn’t be said to be strong, not when you considered a victorious battle to be one you found your way out of. And your prowess…even you could admit that it was a good thing hunting for a meal was old school, taken over by vendors and restaurants who did the work for you. Skill was the only trait you could said you had more than enough of. You hosted a cunning mind that fostered curiosity for and interest in creation. It was perhaps the only reason why you had stayed put in the desert; Where there were warriors, there were weapons.

Of course, you didn’t find this path of life until you were much older so your childhood was filled to the brim with frustration. There was one memory in particular that stuck with you even to this day:

You were years younger than you were now—still a kid at the time, only having just celebrated your birthday where your age finally reached the double digits. At this age, the clan held a tradition of introducing battle mechanics to the children in hopes that they could foster warrior spirits into their young hearts. So you were sent off to spend an hour or two training at the area the really just looked liked an oversized playground. Along side you there were three other kids who’d just tuned of age same as you, so together the five of you trained and sparred.

In reality, this is when your struggles had begun. With the clan favoring the strongest, naturally a friendly competition had settled amongst you and your group mates. Or, well, as friendly as shaping a fighter could get. Only after half a year, your peers had already seen a big jump of improvement in their abilities. Quite quickly you realized that you were already being left behind…the others noticed it too.

“Why dont you go help the cooks make us a meal instead of trying to learn that skill set. You’ve been doing the same practice for months and still haven’t moved up, ha!”

At first, they’d only tease you like that. Telling you to just go home because you would never become a warrior at your learning pace. And you wanted to, you really did, but you worried how that would make your parents feel. They weren’t exactly frontline warriors themselves, but they were still warriors nonetheless. They excelled in sneak attacks and underground movement, an art that had actually allowed them to meet each other. You on the other hand, had wasted six months practicing basic defense moves.

It wasn’t due to your inability or some lack of skill, really, you just didn’t really care. Why advance to harder levels when the basics were good enough for you? You were honestly more drawn to the wooden sword you practiced with than the movements it made. It seemed that none of the others could relate to you, or even understand you, though because they made jabbing comments and snickering remarks.

By the time a year had passed, they had taken to asking you to spar with them knowing full well you didn’t have the training. You were always quick to dismiss them, instead focusing on whatever it was that you were doing, but on one particularly day, your peers had taken their teasing a step further. All it took was for one of them to pull your arm to encourage the other two to get involved. You felt one flick your ear while another tugged your tail, the third one pulling your arm. Unused to their physicality, you tried to push yourself away, more caught of guard than in actual pain. But they only gathered closer around you.

You told them to go be a bother elsewhere, that you weren’t in the mood, but they didn’t seem to listen. Or care. Poking and prodding, they messed with you relentlessly and you had fought the urge to cry as they ganged up on you. When you resulted to closing your eyes and protecting your ears with your hands, their touch fell away suddenly. You heard their surprised cries and opened your eyes to see the three kids struggling against another.

“Beat it,” the kid growled, “bullies have no business becoming a warrior.”

You recognized the intruder, you’d seen him with the group that was two or three years older than your group. It seemed the other three recognized him as well because they scrambled to get themselves together before rushing away, not even daring to taunt you as they passed. You watched their backs until they disappeared behind one of the training walls before turning to look at the older lion before you. His face appeared stony, his arms crossing over his chest imposing a strong presence. You lowered your hands from your ears slowly, not sure if he meant for you to go away as well.

“Thank you,” You said awkwardly, “for helping me.”

The older lion tilted his fluffy head, “are you okay?” he asked with more concern than you’d anticipated. A stark contrast to his appearance, his voice could almost be described as gentle. It reminded you that he was still a kid too, not just the strongest warrior of his age group and two above.

Nodding your head, you dusted yourself off, “I’m okay. They didn’t do much aside from tugging at me.”

“Why didn’t you fight back?” he asked, “Isn’t that the whole point of training?”

“Oh…I’m still learning. They’re more advanced than I am so even if I tried, I don’t think I could beat them,” you responded honestly.

The lion boy gave you a confused look, “you don’t seem upset by that.”

You smiled, giving him a small laugh and another nod, “yeah, cause I’m not. Not really. All this fighting, winning, and losing is boring! I’d rather get it over with than participate whole heartedly, I could go back home sooner that way.”

His expression flattened, as if he were suddenly disinterested in you. “Oh, you’re just lazy.”

“Hey! Just because I don’t like punching people around doesn’t mean I’m lazy.” You huffed, copying him as your crossed your own arms over your chest, “I’d just rather be doing other things. Cooler things. Like making my own axe. Look at this dagger—I made it myself.”

You held out a dully sharpened rock out in your hands with a mischievous grin, looking down at it with pride and joy. The lion boy was…unimpressed to say the least, but he wouldn’t say anything. He didn’t need to, really. He moved his hand to take the rock knife from you, lifting it up to inspect it in the light.

A few moments passed with him turning it over in his hand before he returned it to you, saying, “why do you train if you don’t have any interest in fighting?”

You shrugged, “I wanna make my parent proud.”

Pocketing your beloved knife creation, you didn’t elaborate any further making a silence fall between the two of you. Shuffling your feet, you look over the lion’s shoulder.

“Won’t you get in trouble for skipping lessons?” You finally asked.

The boy looked back at the direction of his training area before turning back with a nod; “Only if I have no good reason. But I do. I’ll be heading back now.” He waved goodbye to you as he turned to leave, getting a few steps in before looking back at you, “if those kids bully you again, come look for me. I’ll set them straight.”

And with that he jogged away. You waved at him enthusiastically, even if he couldn’t see you, making you take a few seconds to realize something. “Wait,” you yelled out to him, “What’s your name?!”

“Brutus!”

That encounter led the two of your together from that moment on. Unexpectedly, your group mates hadn’t given you any more trouble—physically that is—so you hadn’t had reason to seek out the lion boy. Luckily for you, that opportunity had come with tournament week. The two of you reunited amidst the competition and completely hit it off. The more time the two of you spent together, the closer you became, growing together until even the clan recognized the two of you as best friends.

Eventually, you quit battle training all together, much to Brutus’ dismay, but you promised him that you guys could still hangout after he was done with his. In the mean time, while he trained on the field, you had taken to becoming familiar with weaponry. Your parents were much more encouraging of you becoming an artist rather than a fighter than you’d expected; Their logic had been that every warrior needs a weapon. So quite soon after, you begged the old iron worker to let you apprentice under him. When he finally agreed, it felt like your life was finally on track.

It went on like this for years: you learned how to forge a blade from raw materials while Brutus honed his skills on the battle field. When evening fell, the two of you would meet at the stack of boulders overlooking an oasis a small distance away from the clan grounds. Stories were shared about both your days, what you learned and who he beat. You spoke about the future and how you would make him the best of the best colossal sword, sharp enough to cut through rock yet light enough to carry around. He would only chuckle at your demonstration of how easy it would be to swing the weapon, telling you he looked forward to that day the most, and promising he’d never use any-other’s forged blades.

Alongside each other, the two of you grew—him growing much taller and much faster than you but you accounted it to his laborious daily training. If he noticed that you never reached past his shoulders, he didn’t mention it. You tried to ignore it too, but it was much harder to do when he could quite literally cast a shadow over you whilst standing. As a rule, you made it so that he could never stand within three feet of you while you worked. You had once thought him to be a wall in your peripheral vision, so you tried putting a searing red sword on him. This experience was all it took for you to make that rule. But aside from height, Brutus developed into a strong, capable warrior with a soft heart that did not match his appearance. You often joked that he’d scare his own children to tears with just his stoic expressions, and end up crying with them. On the other hand, he’d consistently remind you how much you’ve changed as well—in a good way. You were no longer the “weakling puppy” he’d first met you as, but now a sly fox. Of course, you’d push him for calling you a puppy, complaining loudly as you did.

“I’m not some dog! Put some respect on my genetics you overgrown cat!”

“‘Overgrown cat’?! Do you want to fight?!”

You two got along great. Really.

But eventually the day came where Brutus was needed for battle. You knew that it’s what he’s been training his whole life for, and that he was the best warrior in your clan, but you still got hurt when he made the announcement to you.

“The northern clan needs our help. They say hypofiend activity has increased, even stone golems are invading their lands. We have to stop them before they find themselves here,” he explained to you as the two of you sat in the traditional spot on the stacked boulders overlooking the oasis.

You didn’t know what to say. One part of you was supportive of him and his desire to be out protecting those around him…but the other part was deathly worried. Other mauler opponents were one thing, but hypofiends? Stone golems? An army of the two together?! The chances of not only defeating them, but surviving the process as well, were lower than you’d wanted to bring up. He called out your name, and you turned to him with a blank look. How could you ask him to stay? How could you tell him to go? How could you be okay in either situation?

“I…” you started, blinking rapidly as your tried to gather your thoughts, “don’t know what to say…”

Surprise filled his expression, “I thought you’d be a little more happy.”

“Happy?” You repeated, “How can I be happy when you’re literally going off to war against unliving beings? I’m nothing but scared.”

Brutus furrowed his eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest as he usually did when he was standing his ground. “Living or not, I’ve been fighting battles since I was 10. I’m more than capable of keeping myself alive.”

You turned away from him, looking down at the oasis beneath your dangling feet. You didn’t mean to offend him, or to make him think you doubted him. You were just worried, and you didn’t know how to express yourself. Fighting was never your strong suit, disinteresting you to the point of avoidance. That included fighting with Brutus, emotionally. Your fingers clutched the stone dagger you had made all those years ago, dangling on your chest as a necklace that Brutus himself made. It was his contribution to the best friend tokens that you suggested the two of you did, just for fun. Your token was one of the beads he wore in his mane—a lighthearted joke that was an insider between the two of you.

A sich left your lips, and you hugged your knees. “Alright then,” you said, “be safe.”

Brutus didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t expected you to behave so detachedly, but it put him off anyways. Why did you seem to believe he couldn’t do it? He though you of all people would know his strength and congratulate him for his upcoming battles. After all, the pride of the lions was the victory of duels. Just as it was for the clan. Wearing a cold expression, Brutus didn’t respond as he turned to head back to the grounds. That was his biggest regret.

The next morning, the clans fiercest warriors were gone, including Brutus. You were still sore from your argument last night, but there was nothing you could do now. All that was left was for you to hope and pray that your best friend would make it back.

You were left praying for 8 months. During that time, you immersed yourself into your forging; Day and night you crafted creating metalwork after metalwork to distract yourself. In working so hard, for so long, it was inevitable that you soon became one of the most highly skilled blacksmiths in the clan--not that there were any to begin with, aside from your teacher; Another reason why your work had soon become sought after. There were many reasons behind all the passion you poured into each individual piece you made but regret was never one of them. While you dearly missed your best friend, you were more dejected by the realization that the two of your paths were fated to run parallel to each other, never crossing. Where you were uninterested in the heat of a fight, Brutus only cared about his weapons when he was using them to strike down his opponents. There really wasn't any space for the two of you two to walk together.

So, you devoted your every breath to chasing the one pleasure you knew would never leave you. And it was worth it--almost. Your handcrafted weapons grew in demand, even the most notable of warriors wielded your art. It had gotten to a point where custom requests were given to you to forge a weapon unique only to its master. Over time, your old teacher weened you off his guidance until you were able to run his shop on your own. Of course he was still around, stocking resources and keeping records, but he had all but given you ownership. All things considered, you would almost deem your life perfect.

Now, during the winter, the amount of orders you had lessened slightly as compared to other seasons. You had closed shop early to work on commission designs. As you made your way to the stack of boulders overlooking the oasis, you couldn't help but let your mind wander.

Where was Brutus? Was he okay? When would he return? Would he return?

Your ears twitched on your head as you walked and you reached a hand up absentmindedly to rub it soothingly. Reaching the spot, you silently sat down, dangling your feet over the edge, and pulling out the blueprints of ideas you had for some customers. Digging out a pencil from your pockets, you went to work, filling the silent atmosphere with scribbling noises. You kicked your feet without much thought unconsciously releasing the stress that blanketed your body. It wasn't unusual to find you here, alone, doing nothing but drawing plans or staring up at the sky. You enjoyed the peace that came with the isolation out here, but there were times when you couldn't help but reminisce that company you once had. Another twitch of your ears had you poking them with your pencil to get them to settle down.

"The purpose of reflexes is to keep you aware of your surroundings," a deep voice spoke from beneath you. You startled at their words, immediately perking up as you looked around. "They keep you alive."

Looking down to your right, you finally saw him. He stood tall, taller than you remember...bigger than you remembered too. The leather body armor he wore before had been replaced by metal; A shoulder guard protected his left while a fur pelt adorned his left. On his wrists were metal goblets colored brown with gold accents. Only a leather strap covered his bare chest, but his bottom clothes remained the same. His mane was wild, fully undone with only two braids--one of which was held together by a familiar bead. You were speechless.

It felt like minutes had passed in silence before you jumped up and hurried off the rocks. Like some old married couple, separated by a war, you ran to him and leaped up throw your arms around his shoulders (you feel short quite a distance, but it didn't matter. Brutus had picked you up with strong arms).

"You're back?!" You shouted rhetorically, face burying itself into his coarse fur, "When did you get back?!"

"Not to long ago. When I didn't find you on the grounds, I figured you would be here."

Suddenly you pushed yourself away from him, making you land on the ground, " You asshole! What took you so long? It's been almost a year--was the battle too seductive for you to look away long enough to at least send me a letter?!"

Brutus sighed, his lion ear twitching as he did so, "I had no time. There were more enemies than we anticipated, and they seemed to continuously pour out from the earth. If it wasn't for a mage we encountered, I would still be out there fighting."

You sulked, crossing your arms over your chest as you regarded him. Angrily, your tail swished behind you.

"I apologize," he finished after a momentary pause.

At that, your resolve crumbled a little, enough for you to let out your own sigh before you leaned into him for another hug. With his front exposed as it was, his fur tickled your face lightly making you pull your head back slightly.

"I like the new look," You told him, "you look really different."

Both his arms wrapped around you, engulfing you in an embrace that consumed your. "Bad different?" He asked.

"No," was all you said. Relishing in his grasp, your mind raced as you processed that your best friend was back--he was right here, standing Infront of you after almost a year. A million emotions ran through you and you struggled to find just one to focus on. Brutus didn't say anything else either, just allowing the two of you to grow reaccustomed to the other. You were surprised you hadn't started crying.

When you pulled away once again, Brutus said, "So...I've heard your smithing skills are a clan pride."

A shy smile appeared on your face, "You could say that. I think I still have a lot to live up to in comparison to Teacher Arlo, but my work is out there."

He made a thoughtful noise and turned to eye his colossal blade that he had stabbed into the ground. "I could do with a new blade. This one is dulling."

Out of habit, you had noticed his large blade immediately after spotting him from above, but only now did you have the chance to fully inspect it. He was right, all along the edge of his weapon there were chips and dents in the metal--the metal itself seemed of lesser quality but you figured he didn't have many purchase option out on the battle field. The handle was well worn, the fabric that lined the grip slightly torn and miscolored. It was...a pretty sad sight to see. Letting out a click of your tongue, you poked the metal with your finger; "I think dulling might be an understatement...But no worries. I haven't forgotten my promise to you when we were kids. I already have something back at the shop."

Brutus looked shocked, "you remember that?"

"Of course, I didn't forget everything just because you ran off to war--still upset by the way, you didn't even say bye to me. Jerk."

Your words made his surprise morph into a soft expression, his normally stone expression tainted with something you couldn't recognize. It made your heart flutter, and just like that you were reminded of the old times. Turning away from you, he uprooted his blade--his arms flexing with strength but you definitely weren't looking--before looking back, saying, "On my honor, I will make it up to you."

With that, the two of you set off on the path back to blacksmith shop you lived in. Stories of all that happened were exchanged between you two, catching the both of you up on all the important life events that transpired in the other's absence. If you let yourself feel it, you could almost swear the two of you were a year younger acting like nothing would ever change. It scared you to understand that a few things had.

You would never, ever, tell Brutus, but during his time away you had been forced to sort through things on your own...including your understanding of why his departure had left you so sore. It took weeks of not hearing from him to realize that you were so worried, much more than a friend. Why? Because you didn't just love him, you were in love with him. Needless to say, that made you spiral, but on the bright side, some of your best weapons were created during that time. Your teacher had praised you saying he had never seen such a balanced arrow before. Admittedly, that made you feel a little better. However, now that you knew the fluttering of your heart whenever you were with Brutus wasn't because you were just having a happy time but because he was your happiness.

This much couldn't be said to be the same for your best friend though. He had never shown any signs that he reciprocated your feelings. Right now, you were too focused on the excitement of having him back to face the struggle of keeping yourself sane around him, but you knew later on would be different.

"It took me a while to perfect the ideas I had in my head, but I was so proud of the way it came out. I hope you'll like it because you never gave me any ideas to go off of. I was basically going in blind!" You warned him when you finally reached the shop and lead him to the back room.

"It'll be fin--omph"

You whipped around at the thud that resounded, reaching out in the darkness to light up a lantern. Brutus held his forehead, bending down as he walked into the room after you.

"It's lower than I remember..."

Laughter bubble out of you once you registered what happened, "Haha, no. You've just grown. Inflated like a muscle balloon. Seriously, what happened. Oh look, here it is!"

Using all your strength, your pulled on the large wooden box that rested vertically on the wall. Grunting wit effort, you dragged it to the lion who walked crouched to meet you halfway. Taking it from you, Brutus lifted the container on the table and dropped it with a thud. Impatient, you lifted the lid for him with a 'ta-da' and exposed the giant silver blade inside. It was silver in color, and double edged with an opening along the middle as if you had stuck two swords together. The end of the blade flattened out into a curved geometry that would allow easier swinging motions. The handle was covered in a thick leather that was wrapped around sturdy metal, allowing for a secure handle that would never break. You explained all your designed choices to the lion as he took out the weapon to examine it in his hands.

"It's even--whoah! Don't swing it in here, you're going to cut off my tail!" You yelped, taking a step back to avoid his movements.

Brutus admired the craft, flipping it over and looking it tip-to-end with a sharp gaze; Then he looked back to you, his tail flicking side-to-side intensely. "It's marvelous," he commented.

You preened, putting your hands on your hips with a big smile, "Of course it is! I promised you the best, didn't I?"

"You did," he agreed, slowly putting the blade back in its case, "And you honored your promise. Please, let me honor mine."

He stepped towards you, reaching his hands out to gently pull your body into his. You gladly accepted his invitation, letting yourself fall against his large body. This really wasn't safe for your infatuated heart, but you couldn't help but nuzzle into him, taking great pleasure in the way he oversized you. If new fantasizes arose from this, you couldn't be blamed. Wait, what were you thinking?! He was your best friend! Your body tensed at your thoughts and you moved to pull away, but Brutus' strong hands kept you in place. His face leaned between your ears atop your head making them tic as his breath fluttered over them. Out of your control, your tail flicked behind you with a mind of its own but responding to your emotions. All you could do was hope Brutus didn't connect the signs.

Your fingers buried themselves into his mane, scratching lightly and received a tightening grip around your waist in response.

"The battles I fought were easier than this," Brutus grumbled into your hair. Why did he sound...disgruntled?

"With them I knew what to expect. I've never been defeated in a fight," he continued. You made a sound of agreement with your throat to show him you were listening. "But now, I only expect defeat."

"Defeat in what?" You were confused, wasn't the war already over? Unless this was a dream, there was no battle that he was currently fighting. Did all that sparring with stone golems mess with his head...

"Us."

You chuckled, "Us? What, are you breaking up with me?"

He didn't respond for a second making you think your joke might not actually be a joke, but then you remembered you weren't even in a relationship. So you called out to him, "Brutus?"

Suddenly, he pulled you away enough to look you in the eyes. "No. The opposite actually," he said vaguely, a cold expression on his face, "If this spurs you, then I have twice as much to ask forgiveness for."

Before you could question just what on earth he was talking about, he leaned down and kissed you. Stupidly, you froze, completely stunned by the turn of events. His kiss held force which was reasonable for him but at the same time it was gentle, cautious. You didn't process the situation until he was already pulling away from you; Pulling on his mane, you lured him back to you in a chance to redeem yourself. Overflowing emotion filled your lips as you tried to convey your emotions to him. His hands covered your back as he held you tightly, pulling you flush against him so that he could kiss you harder. It felt like months--no, years--of repressed emotions were drowning the two of you and it was enough to make your heart break.

His rough tongue lapped at your lips as the kiss quickly heated causing you to open your mouth to grant him entry. Just like the rest of him, his tongue was sizeable and quickly filled your mouth as he tasted the inside of it. Desperation was quick to settle amongst the two of you, stroking both of your hearts as you took, and took from one another. Seemingly making up for lost time, Brutus picked you up effortlessly and guided your legs to wrap around his hips. He didn't move away from his spot despite what you thought, acting rooted to the ground as his hands began kneading your body. You could feel his sharp claws through your clothes which made a shiver run down your spine, the danger he held in his body made your heart race with thrill. Careful not to hurt it, Brutus gripped you tail with one of his hands, stopping it in its wagging movement to tug at it lightly.

You moaned softly into his mouth, squeezing your arms around him as a bolt of electricity shot through you. When you felt that the small barbs of his tongue were licking your mouth sore, you pulled away from the kiss. Brutus was displeased by this and let out a faint rumble in his chest before moving to lap at your neck. You could feel his ears twitching at the sound of your soft moans near them, and you almost felt bad that you were irritating them, but then Brutus flexed his claws out to tear the back of your shirt.

"Brutus!" You scolded, turning your head to see your naked back. He only licked a stripe up your cheek as he pulled your shirt away to toss on the ground. Like this he was able to access the skin on your shoulders and chest so the end justified the means. Unlucky for you, that top was the only thing that had been separating you from skin to fur contact; With it gone, and Brutus shifting your body around to lick at different spots, your nipples were vulnerable to the friction against his coarse fur. Stimulated by his tongue lapping your skin, his hand tugging your tail, and your nipples rubbing against him, your moans increased in volume. You began to rock your hips against his unconsciously. He growled lowly again, using the hand that tore your shirt to grip your ass tightly.

From your peripheral vision, you saw his own lion tail restlessly flicking behind him and you yearned to pull on it the way he pulled at yours. Instead, you moved your arms to undo the armor he wore on his shoulders. He let you work, too busy nipping his sharp teeth into your neck and groping your behind. Your moving hips only encouraged his to rut up into you faintly.

With a disruptive clang, his metal shoulder guard fell to the ground, soon followed by the pelt he wore. Like this, you had much more access all around his completely bare chest and experimentally scratched your fingers through the fur. Granted, you weren't sure how much pleasure he gained from your exploring movements, but he seemed content enough as he didn't stop you. Instead, he hoisted you up higher, no longer interested with the skin of your neck, to drag his rough tongue over the erect buds on your chest. You moaned out loudly at the sensation, arching your back to push your nipples further into his face to chase the feeling.

"I've spent nights just imagining what you would sound like," He spoke, voice just above a growl. He took one of your buds into his mouth, grazing his teeth over it before sucking on it harshly, releasing it with a pop. Mimicking his actions, Brutus did the same to the other, finishing his thoughts, "My dreams could never amount to the real thing."

Breathlessly, you considered his words to understand what he meant, "How long," a sigh of pleasure, "how long have you felt this way?"

"Years, maybe. The teenage ones were the worst. I'll never understand how you never realized how much I craved you."

Another tug at your tail and a rut of his hips into yours made your head fall onto his shoulder. "You never said anything," you mumbled into his mane.

But he was too busy to respond. With one last harsh lick to your sensitive nipples, he raised his head again to kiss you. You felt his hand leave your rear to push down his pants and you had a moment of clarity; "Don't tear my--"

The sound of ripping filled the room. You lifted your head to give the lion a highly unamused look but he only, once again, licked your cheek to soothe you. Cats, you thought pettily. Just like with your shirt, Brutus--quite literally--tore away the remains of your bottoms to leave you completely bare. Not wanting to waste any more time, he held his member against your entrance. You sucked in a breath; It made sense to assume that he would be big...but this seemed too big. You squirmed against him and he placated you with a kiss on the forehead.

"Be brave, little fox," he said. Then he was pushing into you. The deeper he went the more it felt like air was punched out of you; Stretching out your walls like you'd never experienced before, you held onto him tightly, gasping for breath. Much like the rest of him, his tip was was a sharp point with a bulbous ridge, but still slimmer than the base. Mercifully, he gave you a few moments to adapt to the intrusion, nipping and lapping at your jaw as he waited. Once you no longer struggled to breathe, you tugged at the fur around his head to signal him to move; He lost no time in accepting your sign.

A deep purr like rumble vibrated in his chest as he began to move inside you and you could feel it with your own. His hand returned to your ass you grip it tightly, guiding you as he lifted and pulled you down with it in rhythm to his thrusts. Muffled cries fell from your lips and he stuffed you with his cock, doing nothing but already hitting your G-spot with his thickness. When he pulled on your tail again, the sensitivity mixed with the pleasure and you leaned back in an arch, convulsing with gratification. Brutus shifted his weight, spreading his legs a bit so that he could push better inside you standing up; Pretty quickly, wet noises filled the room, accompanied by measured slapping. As a warrior, Brutus was firm by nature, and as a lion, he was lead by pride--both of these together were a dangerous combination for you.

His sharp canines sank into your skin, making you cry out and tug harder at his mane. His tail whipped to his side, wrapping around your waist and making you feel completely engulfed in his grasp.

"You asked why I didn't tell you," he grunted out with shallow breaths, "But you never told me either."

He gave a particularly hard thrust into you, making his balls press against you, and he gruffly huffed. Your mind was reeling from the pleasure of it all which made you take more than a few moments to respond.

"I--was afraid," you confessed with a shudder as the tension in core core built. You gyrated your hips shakily to match his movements and whining out loud when it only served to add friction against your sensitive groin.

"I never gave you reason to fear me," Brutus complained, squeezing your ass, "I've always protected you."

"Th--This is dif--erent..." You wished this conversation hadn't come up during this time. Seductive pleasure was wracking your body, destroying your ability to think clearly which only barred you from properly communicating with him. Brutus lifted his head, enough so that he could take the tip of your ear into his teeth in a light bite.

Your ear twitched in his caging nip, but he didn't let go, fully riding out the possessive feeling that drowned him from consciousness. When the base of his cock began swelling, stretching you even further, you took it as a sign that he was close. Trying your best, you rocked your weight against him, expending the last of your energy in your legs that helped keep you hoisted up on his hips. But the extra movement helped. With you slamming down onto his cock over and over and over, Brutus growled loudly, and you felt the way his knot moved inside you to lock you in his hold.

With a final tug at the base of your fail, and a tight grip on your rear, Brutus came inside you. His seed was hot and plentiful, effectively warming up your gushy walls and plugging you full to make sure you accepted everything he gave. His hips were pushed impossible deep into yours, the head of his dick making a bulge appear on your stomach. You moaned out wantonly, going stiff in his arms as his orgasm triggered your own; You came hard, contracting around him is sporadic motions as you coped with the large mass sitting inside you, still pressed against the oversensitive bundle of nerves. You hadn't realized how hard you were pulling on Brutus' mane until seconds later after your high faded to a reasonable level. With sore fingers, you released his fur and slugged against him, letting him do all the work in holding you up.

"It's not different," Brutus finally said, his voice much deeper as the lust from essentially breeding you flowed through his veins, "I am your warrior. I'll always stand by your side. Either as a friend, or as a partner."

He then kissed the top of your head, softly releasing his hold on your tail, and moving to find a spot to rest with you still in his arms. You were too gone to garner a reply, already feeling beyond sleepy as you nestled into his warm chest. You mentally promised him that the two of you would talk properly once you rested; Brutus seemed to understand as well.

"Rest. I'll take care of you."

As you dozed off into a sleep still tied to the lion with his knot inside you, you felt him murmur: "I love you".

[jessamine-rose]

꒰ THE SPIDER AND THE FLY - Author’s Note ꒱

Read The Spider and the Fly here ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

It’s finished…I wrote my Yandere! Miguel O’Hara longfic and lived to tell the tale. Istg not a day has gone by without me cursing Miguel bc of this. To those who’ve already read their story, thank you so much for your lovely tears feedback  (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

With that over, it’s time for another Author’s Note!! This is just me rambling about my writing process, headcanons, and creative details in this fic. I hope y’all enjoy this behind-the-scenes perspective <3

“Since the loss of his family, Miguel O'Hara has avoided every Variant of his wife. Then he meets you, a special exception—a version of her whose salvation lies in his interference.” (AO3 Summary)

꒰ Introduction ꒱

♡ Fun fact, the only reason why I got into Spiderverse was bc my socmeds were flooded with Miguel O’Hara. My brainrot was so bad that the fanfics weren’t enough; and even then, I didn’t expect this idea to reach 7.6k words. It was also my first attempt at dual POV and more detailed spice ( ´•̥̥∇•̥̥` )

♡ One major inspiration for this fic was the popular “Miguel falls for his wife’s Variant” trope, and I hope you all enjoyed my take on that idea!! Giving Variant! Darling her own angsty backstory was a must, given my fondness for twisted happy endings <3

♡ Before I continue, I want to thank the following mutuals for making this fic possible!! @yandere-romanticaa for dragging me into the Miguel O’Hara fandom, @diodellet for being the world’s best beta-reader, and @yanmaresu for helping me with the Spanish translations~

꒰ Characters ꒱

♡ We don’t talk about how much Miguel O’Hara tormented me in my attempts to properly write his character. I headcanon him as a strict, overprotective yandere who is only cruel to his darling if provoked. I find his dynamic with Variant! Darling particularly interesting as it opens up his guilt, trauma, and breeding kink yearning for his lost family.

♡ Variant! Darling is the unhappiest version of Miguel’s wife. She has low self-esteem and impostor syndrome, which gets worse as she learns about her more successful Variants. As a result, she craves external validation but doesn’t believe she deserves it. Despite her inferiority complex, she does has positive traits and skills which her other versions don’t have.

♡ LYLA, my love!! I had a lot of fun writing her scenes. She is simply the best wingman/ voice of reason that ever lived, and one of the few people allowed to interact with Variant! Darling.

꒰ Literary Motifs ꒱

♡ The Spider and the Fly by Mary Howitt - Cheers to Miguel reminding me of a poem from my childhood. It was the main inspiration for the title, Darling’s character, and other details~

♡ The red thread of fate - referenced at the end of iv. triangle web purely out of self-indulgence. I just rlly love that motif, and it helps that Miguel’s webs are also red xD

♡ Spiderweb varieties - I couldn’t think of anything else for the section dividers, thus I embarked on online research ft. unavoidable spider pics. The webs were picked for the following reasons::

i. spiral orb web - the most basic and common web design

ii. funnel web - hiding place for spider, used for surprise attacks

iii. lace web - I ran out of common web varieties and it sounds pretty

iv. triangle web - not sticky, fuzzy threads used to entangle and smother prey

v. mesh web - similar to cobwebs but found outdoors, used to entangle prey

vi. cobweb - sticky, irregular, tangled, found indoors

vii. sheet web - typically permanent, regularly repaired by the spider

꒰ My Favorite Scenes ꒱

♡ vii. sheet web

Mere words cannot describe how many times I died revising this chapter. It was pretty difficult to write due to my inexperience with smut, my fear of making Miguel OOC, and the transition from noncon to angst to comfort. Ultimately, I think I did a decent job at writing emotional smut and indulging my hornii thoughts for Miguel. What do you guys think?? I’d love to hear your thoughts ^^;

꒰ Miguel x Variant! Darling’s Playlist ꒱

Cue me going “!! :0” when I realized that the first song is a perfect fit for The Spider and the Fly. At least Miguel and Variant! Darling got their twisted happy ending <;/3

♡ Yesterday by Official Hige Dandism

♡ Overdose by natori

♡ Cinderella by DECO*27

♡ Delphinium by Remo

♡ BLUE by LUCKY TAPES ft. kojikoji

♡

That’s all I have to say!! Once again, thank you so much to all of my readers. Your feedback means the world to me, so just know that every comment gave me a serotonin boost. It is my sincere hope that more of you will cry over enjoy this while I recover from the mental turmoil of writing for Miguel O’Hara ꒰｡- ᴗ - ｡꒱

[yaut-jaknowit]

With Her Fingers

Pairing: Gawtin (Female Yautja) x Reader (AFAB, gender neutral)

Word count: 3210

Warnings: size kink, praise kink, slapping, pain kink, tiny prey/predator kink, light bondage, little cum eating, light dom/sub. If there's any I missed, let me know!

Summary: You don't know what to name your relationship with Gawtin. You're close to her and believe she feels the same to you. It had been a decent day. What you considered fall to be was rolling through. The day wasn't too hot nor too cold for you. Yet, the planet was still too harsh to sit out in the sun for too long. You're chilling underneath a stray tree and watching Gawtin spar with a random male. Just seeing her easily demolish the male has heat flushing your cheeks. Then, she's gives you a look and you're done for. You run for it.

Author note: I had asked about writing smut and what you guys wanted. Someone wanted female/female so I whipped it up for them!

Ao3

Masterlist

Smut below the cut

Minors DNI leave, go away, come back another day

There was something about Gawtin that enticed you. She drew your attention away from the task at hand. You were supposed to be drawing her form as she sparred with another Yautja; a male by the looks of it. His smaller frame had a familiar bulkiness to Gawtin. He stood no chance against her due to this. Genetics weren’t in his corner at this point.

The way he struggled with this fight told you so. He was losing, quickly. One misstep almost got him down for the count. He stumbled back, luck on his side for just a moment. Gawtin swung her wooden stick and barely missed him by just hair. It left the bigger Yautja open for just enough time that the male was able to jab his own weapon into her stomach.

With the ends narrow and a great amount of force, Gawtin grunted and took a couple steps back, head slightly bowed. She whipped it up with a furious look in her eyes that made your legs squeeze together. Her tresses slapped harshly against her flesh as she stared him down. You didn’t need to see him to know there was fear in his eyes.

He knew that move was a bad idea after he preformed it. His mandibles pulled tightly. The female roared threateningly and dropped her staff before charging at him, arms splayed out. Her movements were swift, almost unnaturally fast in your eyes.

Gawtin rammed into him with all of her strength and knocked him straight to the ground. One thing smart about the male, he used the force to roll backwards. He was able to get back onto his feet with barely a beat missed.

That left Gawtin without a weapon to defend against the male. Not that she needed one. He swung it at her but she simply tore it out of his hands and snapped the wood in two. Holy fuck. That was hot.

Red dusted your cheeks as you realized your thoughts. Well, you’ve tested the waters with Gawtin on same-sex sex with her. There’s a reason why her middle, ring finger, and thumb on her right hand are dulled. She’s also learned how to eat you out without scratching with her teeth and mandibles.

When you get back to reality, you find Gawtin choking the male. His feet were held a good foot off the ground as he struggled to get her to release her hold. Not that she easily would. But what got you was her eyes were pinned to you. There was fire flickering in them. You read the look on her alien face, seeing her tongue softly poke out for a moment, and knew what that meant.

She knows. Oh, she knows.

You threw your sketch book to the side, pencil and erase with it, and began sprinting away. From all you’ve learning being around Yautja’s and their planet, there was nothing more exciting than the hunt. You had told Gawtin a little predator/prey could be something you enjoyed. Gawtin full heartily agreed with the biggest of smirks she could possibly make. That’s why you’re running away from her right now. You’ll be able to get to the tree line not far away, at the most. Her strides are long and powerful.

A screech behind you almost had you stumbles over your own feet. You were able to take a quick glance back at the sound and stopped yourself from laughing. Gawtin had thrown the male to side and came charging after you.

The sight of this bulky, well defined, green Yautja coming at you had you quickening your speed. Not that it helped much. This was a Yautja after all. Running away was impossible with the predicament you were in, her training you or not. That look on her face told you so.

Before you were ten feet from the tree line, a sturdy arm wrapped around your stomach. It pulled you flush with a warm frame. In return, you yelped and clawed at the limb instinctively. The frame began to rumble with a purr which helped you calm down. Gawtin turned you around and tossed your body over her shoulder then began a path towards her dwelling.

As she carried you, her tresses swaying caught your attention. You softly grabbed one and kissed it. Gawtin’s purring deepened, pace quickening.

Both of you passed the neighbors dwelling, Bziut-ty was outside, tending to her plants. She was babysitting Qui’oky for the two of you. When she saw Gawtin and you, one of her upper mandibles quirked up. “I guess I’ll be keeping little Oky with me tonight,” she teased. Your lips pressed tightly together as your eyes widened.

Claws dug into the flesh of your thighs. “Yes, I would appreciate that, Bee,” Gawtin thanked her, voice rougher than usual. A smirk graced your features before bringing the tresses back to your lips and licking it.

Her entire body tensed, talons possibly piercing your skin. She growled out your name in warning. Bziut-ty laughed whole heartily. Gawtin didn’t say anything else and marched straight into her dwelling and towards her room.

She sat down on the strange concave dent in the middle of the room called her bed. You were pulled from your potato sack position and deposited onto her lap. Gawtin forcing you to straddle her wide hips. A lower mandible brushed against your cheek as she stared down at you. On the other hand, you continued to hold her tress and gently stroked it.

“Do you consent?” she was straight to the point. Her hand petted the top of your head while staring into your eyes. A smile gracing your features.

“Yes, I do, love.” It wasn’t always a yes, especially during the mating season. Gawtin could easily overwhelm you and want far too much than you could dish out for her. But man, did you try and do your best. You do have to say, when she’s needy, she’s adorable. Don’t let her know that you ever said that though, she might suffocate you with her thighs. After she found out how much you loved her thick thighs, she’ll never let you live that down.

With a loud, short purr, Gawtin moved you the way she wanted. The Yautja placed your back against her chest, your legs hooked on the outer side of hers. All spread out for her. Gawtin doesn’t care about clothing, it’s simple to replace; plus, if you’re walking around naked… That’s something she wouldn’t mind at all.

Your clothes were torn away from your body and tossed somewhere in the room. A yelp escapes you when the soft clothe shirt was ripped off. You gave a normal reaction and attempted to cover up your chest at first. That wasn’t going to fly by Gawtin though. She snatched both of your wrists and pinned them being your head, elbows forced up.

“No hiding from me. I want see all of you,” Gawtin demanded, claws prickling against your skin. A heavy blush dusted your skin at her words. She pulled on her hold. “Keep your hands here. Move, there’ll be consequences.” You knew Gawtin kept to her word and listened to her with a nod. Today wasn’t a day you wanted to disobey her.

Gawtin purred again before using her claws and strength to fully undress you. Now, you were completely exposed to the powerful Yautja while she was still clothed.

A warm tongue licked at your neck, swiping away a drop of sweat. Your body tensed at the feeling before relaxing into her strong body. “Good,” she purred close to your ear. One of her hands roamed from your waist up to your exposed breasts, easily holding one in her palm. Something she quickly picked up on after the first time together.

Just the fact her hand could almost take up your entire chest made you squirm in her lap. Which, Gawtin was quick to fix with a stinging slap to the inside of your thigh. That made you howl and arch your back. She wouldn’t allow for you to escape from her hold unless you took back your consent. Then, she would stop everything and ensure you’re okay.

What she had did made your pussy fluttered emptily. A low moan pouring from your lips. “Please, Gawtin, I can’t sit still,” you begged. An action that was so not Yautja. Yet the sound of your pleading voice got her wild.

With the hand she had slapped you with, she cupped your sex, middle finger pressing between the slicking folds. Gawtin purred again and nuzzled her head against you. You mewled, hips canting forward. This added pleasure to the little things she was doing making you sigh high-pitched.

This time, Gawtin huffed and shook her head. The puff of air tickled the back of your neck. “Sit still, be good,” she urged.

At this point your arms were becoming tired. It went against her order, but you let them rest at your sides. The ends prickling. “I’m sorry, they were hurting,” you were quick to apologize for disobeying a previous order. It went to both of said orders.

“It’s alright, artful one,” she whickered and let her middle finger slowly rub through the slick starting to pool just at your cunt. It took all of your will not to move after Gawtin skimmed over your clit. “There you go. That’s good.” The praise settled well in your bones. You bowed your head and watched while Gawtin pleasured you. It couldn’t be helped, your cunt throbbing. You prayed she would end this teasing and fully embrace it.

All wishes don’t come true.

Gawtin pulled her lower hand away from your pussy and brought it up to her mouth. From your position, you couldn’t see what she was doing you already knew what was happening. You made a squeaking noise, eyes blown wide. She pinched one of your nipples at the sound, earning another yelp.

“I love the way you taste. Like those fruits from earth you had me try.” Your brain was slower to think up what she was talking about. A shy smile tugged at your lips at the reminder. When you were able to find peaches and have her try them, they were quickly loved by Gawtin.

Maybe, you’ll be able to find more soon. Before the mating season started.

Her hand returned to the slick between your legs. That same finger slowly petting your clit and wetting entrance that she was loving on. The other hand switched to the other breast, pinching a nipple between her sharp fingers. You mewled, legs threatening to close. Gawtin was quick to use her own to keep yours open wide. “Don’t tease me,” you begged, head thrown back against her chest. She let her hand roam up to your exposed throat.

Not an ounce of fear entered your body at this. Her talons were dragged across your skin, drawing goosebumps to appear. Gawtin didn’t verbally respond to your pleads. Instead, the Yautja let her middle finger to push into your cunt. Your back arched while you moaned. Her fingers were much thicker than yours. One of hers was almost the same width as two of yours. You could easily feel her finger slowly push into you.

A claw ran down your cheek bone and rested on your bottom lip. Your tongue tested the waters and licked up the sharp talon. Gawtin purred content behind you then forced her thumb into your mouth. Immediately, you began to suck and run your tongue along the finger.

All the while, Gawtin pulled her middle finger out only thrust it back in. The pad of her finger rubbed against your g-spot, further increasing the pleasure. She started up a decent pace. Your thighs trembled and wanted to pin her hand between them. But Gawtin’s thighs were far too strong for you. You were forced to take what she gave to you, even if you were greedy for more.

The female leaned her head over your shoulder. A couple of tresses spilling over with the movement. An idea slowly appeared in your mind. Your hand wrapped around one of her close tresses and rubbed your thumb against it. Her body quickly tensed, fingers thrusting deeper than expected. You moaned high pitched, toes curling. Your other hand clawed at her thigh, not leaving a single mark.

You felt heavy, hot breaths rolled over your naked shoulder and torso. There was a soft growl right next to your ear. The hand on your throat quickly wrapped around yours on her sensitive, rubbery, tubal dread. All you wished to do was return a little pleasure that she was giving you. Most days with her, you were the receiver, taking what she gave. Yet, you’ll try once in a while to return the favor as you the bottom. But the fierce Yautja wouldn’t allow for that.

She forced you to let go of her dread then reached over with that hand to the low nightstand. It rested at the edge of the alien bed you two were in. The lower drawer was pulled open, you knew what was inside of. “I-I don’t think that’s ne-necessary, love,” you stuttered and watched as she pulled out a silk-like fabric. It was longer than wide, perfect for what you knew she was about to do with it.

There had to be a smirk on her alien face that you couldn’t see. Gawtin pulled her fingers from your cunt. You whimper, hips canting forward.

A stinging slap met your inner thigh and caused your toes to curl. You yelped and jerked in her lap. Gawtin used the distraction to bend you over and grab both of your hands. “Wait, I’ll be good! I won’t touch,” you pleaded with the female but the words flew over her head. You already knew she wasn’t going to listen and proved you would disobey. That you have, more than once.

The silk-like fabric was one of the softest textures to touch your skin; you’ve never felt something like it before. It was used to tie your wrists together, one crossed over the other. Every time she touched you with hand of three dulled claws, you could feel your slick wiped onto your skin. Gawtin ended it by pressing her mandibles against your shoulder in a mock kiss. “Now, you won’t touch.” You decided to pull against the knots to test if she had done them correctly. There’s never been a chance that she hasn’t done so before. It didn’t hurt to try nevertheless.

Gawtin returned everything back into your previous position besides where your hands were. When she entered your pussy again, she let another finger slip in. Your toes curled again as you leaned heavily onto her chest. The furs underneath your feet soft against your skin. Then, she used her thumb to gently play with your clit. Her other hand leisurely teasing one of your nipples.

Your hands could only claw at her stomach. A curse flew from your lips, legs beginning to tremble more noticeable now. But, Gawtin didn’t quicken or slow her pace; something she learned from your first few times together.

Dark, dark green dreads dragged over your shoulder. “I love the way you look with my fingers inside of you.” Your eyes widened, pussy throbbing around her thrusting fingers. Gawtin pressed her mandibles against your shoulder once more before opening them as wide as possible. The dull pink tongue slithered over the soft tissue of your shoulder. She carefully latched onto the meat there without piercing your skin.

It wasn’t the pain that helped you. No, it was the implication of how dangerous she is to you. Gawtin could easily kill you with a simple swipe of her claws. Instead, she was pleasuring with them.

Your moans gained pitch. Your body tensing, muscles growing rigid under her administrations. Her name was finally screamed to the heavens. You wanted to curl in on yourself but Gawtin wouldn’t let that happen. She wrapped an arm around your chest and held you to hers. Her entire torso vibrated as you came around her fingers. Your cunt throbbing and soaking her fingers and hand.

When your body eased on the twitching, Gawtin removed her fingers and brought them up to your mouth. Immediately, you opened your lips. Her digits slid inside and rested on your tongue. The sweet, yet tangy taste of your cum assaulted you. It caused you to hum around them, eyes drifting close. Your tongue licking it away.

It wasn’t the best taste in the universe, to be honest. Yet, when Gawtin forced you such on her digits covered in your cum… You wouldn’t turn down that offer.

Gawtin purred loudly then removed them from your mouth. Then, she rotated your body to face her. Both of your shins rested against the soft pelts that covered the bed. You were straddling her and look up at her alien face.

Both arms are still tied behind you; they probably be that way for awhile. So, you did your best to show your love to her. Your lips connected to the softer patch of skin between her mandibles; a place you could think her nose would be if she had one.

A dry hand cradled the back of your head. Her blazing purple eyes burned into yours. You had pulled only a couple of inches away from her. Gawtin nuzzled her eyebrow against your temple, eyes softly closing.

There was a settling, content tiredness beginning to sit in your bones. You tugged against your bonds, desperate to touch her, wrap your arms around her bulky frame.  Gawtin sees the wanting in your eyes after she pulled away. Then, the Yautja decided to pull one side of the loose ends of the fabric. It loosened. Your arms immediately wrapped around her neck. One wrist was still bound with it.

“That was amazing. Thank you,” you said with a gentle tone. Your hips humped forward against her red shorts. The slick that coated your labia was whipped onto her clothing. It couldn’t be helped, there was a smirk on your face. You completely knew what you were doing.

That look in Gawtin’s eye told you she already knew.

She laughed, mandibles clicking together then reached over to the nightstand again. The bottom drawer opened once more. A wooden box was pulled out. “I finally get to use the new toy I bought a couple of weeks ago.” Your mouth dropped as a blush covered your face. Gawtin chittered with laughter and gave you a look.

Uh oh.

[marblemoovt]

Cowboy Riding - Simon Riley/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Porn With Plot, AFAB Reader, Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Slight Praise Kink, Slight Degradation Kink, Bathtub Sex, Pet Names (Love, Pet, Darling).

Summary:

Working two jobs to make ends meet, you keep running into a certain cowboy.

------

His words snap you out of your daze. “Tell me, love. Have you ever ridden before?” It’s a random question, but maybe this is his attempt at small talk. You search his eyes but can’t decipher the emotion they hold.

“I don’t own a horse, but I can ride one,” you reply. You can barely afford for yourself, let alone another creature. One day you’ll scrounge up enough money and get the hell out of this town. But for now, you remain stuck. Stuck pouring drinks. Stuck dealing with drunkards. Stuck bathing adult men who can’t seem to bathe themselves.

“What about a cowboy? Ever ridden one of those?”

Note:

I can't believe I finished this. I probably should have waited until after my first final, which is on the 10th, but oh well.

I'm still learning how to write smut. I struggle a lot with it because I'm so used to reading other people who write it beautifully. But you know what, if I keep writing, one of them's bound to turn out decent lol. Just pray to the rng gods.

Since this is my first fic for Ghost, I wasn't sure how to capture his character, especially since this is in a cowboy setting.

Thank you @pipops for introducing me to cowboy!ghost

Am I projecting my red dead redemption 2 hyperfixation on this? Maybe.

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω•`)o

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

Bang!

The saloon doors slam open as a body flies in and collides with a table. The splintering of wood catches your attention from the bar. You set down the glass you were drying. The patrons erupt into hushed whispers as everyone cranes their heads to get a good look, but no one moves. Sighing, you walk around the counter to check if the poor soul is still alive. You knew you shouldn’t have picked up this shift, but the other bartender begged you to cover for them. Plus, there’s a nice revolver you have your eye on.

The creak of the floorboards fills the silence in the room. Upon closer inspection, the heap of debris and limbs is an unconscious, but very much alive, man. You kick his shin but receive only a groan in response. Your boss is not going to be happy about this. As you roll up your sleeves, the doors swing open, and a shadow looms over you.

“Hands off,” a gruff voice locks your body in place. Turning your head, you meet a broad chest. Huh. You crane your neck, and there’s a skeleton glaring at you. Your lips are glued shut, words trapped by an invisible seam. His eyes are dark; they remind you of coal that has been set aflame. Maybe that’s why his gaze feels scalding. Despite being autumn, the room is unbearably hot.

Without another word, the mysterious stranger picks up the unconscious man like a sack of potatoes and slings him over his shoulder. He turns to exit, but you grab his vest. He stares at you in silence. You look at the broken furniture and swallow the lump in your throat. The fear of having your pay docked pries your lips apart.

“You need to pay for that,” and you point at the heap of wood. For a second, you think you’ll end up like that man: battered and unconscious. Arms thick like tree trunks and a frame that hulks yours. You don’t stand a chance, but that’s why guns were made. You eye the shiny pair of revolvers around his waist and grimace. Let’s hope he’s a terrible shot.

The skeleton man grunts, “Later,” and leaves. The second the saloon doors click shut, the chatter resumes. The atmosphere returns to normal like nothing ever happened. You grumble and fetch a broom and dustpan, wracking your brain for an excuse to give to your boss.

Unfortunately, your boss is incredibly pissed. He doesn’t dock your pay, but damn, did you receive an earful. You rub your temples, trying to soothe the throbbing. But the shrill scream of your boss still haunts your eardrums. The only reason you keep this job is that the customers tip well, especially once you get them piss-drunk.

Exiting the saloon, you head to your next job at the inn. It’s not common for you to work two shifts in one day, but you’re short on money. You pass by the gunsmith and pause at the display window, looking in with a sigh. When you arrive, they assign you to the baths, your least favourite task. There’s just something repulsive about bathing strangers—men—who feel entitled to do as they please with you. Sometimes you get lucky, and they only require you to fetch items and set up the bath. Other times you have to tend to customers with wandering hands. And let’s just say you were relieved of your bath duties for a few weeks after shoving a bar of soap down a man’s throat—but not before breaking his hands!

The stairs creak underneath your weight, and you hug the basket of towels and soap to your chest. You silently pray that whoever is behind that door isn’t a complete asshole. You knock and hear a muffled “Come in.”

You open the door, and there’s a skeleton staring at you.

Fuck.

You close the door without a word. Should you leave? But you can’t not do your job. Another incident like last time and you could find yourself fired. It’s not like he remembers you, right? You crouch in front of the door with your head in your hands. What are you going to do?

The door swings open, and a shadow looms over you. “Are you coming in, or are you gonna dillydally?” His husky tone redirects the throbbing in your temples elsewhere, and you press your thighs together. “Either you get in, or I ask for a replacement.”

You shoot up and rush past him into the room. Wordlessly, you set your basket on the counter and check that the water in the tub isn’t too hot. Flicking the bubbles off your hand, you stand to the side and wait.

“Aren’t you gonna undress me?”

Your gaze snaps up to meet his. “What?” you sputter, blood thrumming in your veins.

He tilts his head. “Isn’t that your job?”

You pad over to him like a wary animal, watching for the first sign of danger to turn tail. His dark eyes remain fixed on you; they pull you closer to him. Your fingers graze his neck when you untie his bandanna. You take off his vest, your touch trailing along his broad shoulders. The air feels heavy, and your lungs ache from the pressure. Breathing in deeply, you hold it in before exhaling slowly. Your pulse continues to quicken. He never looks away from you. Even when you begin unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes burn into the crown of your head. You pull the fabric apart and suck in a gasp. Muscles, well-defined and chiselled, wherever your gaze wanders. An array of scars litter his body like brushstrokes, and you restrain yourself from tracing every single one with your tongue. 

Clearing your throat, you reach up a hand towards his mask. “Don’t.” The command is sharp, and it cuts through the building tension. You look at him with wide eyes. His grip on your wrist isn’t harsh. You’re more startled than anything. You didn’t even see him move. “The mask stays on,” he says, releasing you. You nod dumbly and fumble with the button on his pants, tugging the material down. All that remains are his undergarments. You swallow, and your throat feels like it’s covered in tar. You undress him, and he’s—almost—as bare as the day he was born. The words clog your throat. It’s not like you’re surprised since he’s a behemoth of a man. But holy shit is he also massive in other parts of his body.

He doesn’t say anything. You haven’t decided yet whether that’s a blessing or a curse. No command to touch him, no order to undress and join him. He walks around your dazed form and lowers himself into the tub. The water sloshes and spills over the sides. Bubbles obscure most of his body. Damn it. You grab a towel and a bar of soap from your basket. 

Standing behind him, you dip the soap in water and lather it between your hands. Then you rub his shoulders, fingers travelling along every bump and ridge of his muscles. You start a light massage, keeping in mind to use more pressure than usual. Kneading any knots you find, a low rumble purrs from his throat, and your legs press together. His head leans back, and even in the bath, he’s almost as tall as you. Your hands move down to his biceps, and you bend over to reach them. 

You take a peek at his mask and admire the white skull against the black fabric. Obsidian eyes meet yours. They steal all the air in your lungs and turn the blood in your veins into molten lava. His gaze searches your face, and there’s a rush of heat simmering beneath your skin. You blink and avert your gaze, pulling away to get the rag. Wetting the cloth, you wipe down his body. He smells like pine trees and campfires with a faint whiff of bourbon. It’s sweet and earthy—addicting. You shudder, doing your best to ignore the pulsating in your core. 

“Alright there, love?” he asks. There’s a sparkle of mischief in his eyes as he rakes them over your figure. “Promise I don’t bite. Much.” You can hear the smug grin in his tone. The pool of heat in your belly bubbles and overflows into the rest of your body. The man knows exactly what he is doing to you. 

“Fine,” you squeak, blaming your rise in temperature on the warm water and manual labour. 

“I went to pay for the table, but you weren’t there,” he says. You stop scrubbing his arms and rewet the towel, wringing it out to buy yourself more time.

“Oh?” That’s all you manage to say. Oh. No witty remark or even a complete sentence. Just oh. You bite your lip and turn to face him. Much to your surprise, his eyes aren’t black, but a deep brown. The flicker of candlelight makes them look like pools of honey. Colour does not affect their power to hold you in place. For a brief second, you wonder how they would look between your thighs. “Were you looking for me?” you whisper.

“Not at all.” And his voice is husky, rough as the gravel on the road. It leaves you raw and wanting. You drag the towel across his chest, feeling his pulse beat steadily beneath your fingertips. Your heart is thumping in your ears, twice the rate of his. Trailing down between the valley of his pecs, you wash his abdomen. It feels like you’re cleaning a statue, albeit a squishy one. You hesitate to go further. 

He stops you. “I can take it from here,” and he takes the towel. You stand back, fiddling with your fingers now that they have nothing to hold. The splash and drip of water fill the void of silence. 

“How’s that man?” you find yourself asking. “The one you carried away.”

“In jail,” he responds. Simple and short. The silence stretches. You fidget with the buttons on your sleeve, picking at them until you force yourself to stop in fear of loosening the thread.

When the quiet becomes too much, you ask another question. “Was he bad?”

He shrugs. Beads of water roll off his collarbone and down his chest. “Don’t know, don’t care. Had a pretty bounty on his head, and that’s all that matters.” Your head perks up. Bounty hunting always fascinated you, but you have neither the equipment nor the skills for it.

“You’re a bounty hunter?” You step closer to the tub, fingers grasping the metal rim.

Amusement glints in his eyes. “When I want to be.”

His answer is vague; too vague now that your interest has been peaked. “What else do you do then?” you ask, leaning forward in excitement.

There’s barely any white beneath the skull mask. You’re treading in an ocean of coffee with nothing to keep you afloat. You would risk drowning if it meant having his gaze on you for a moment longer. He examines you and cocks his head. “Do you do this with everyone you bathe, or am I an exception?”

The question catches you off guard. You can’t remember the last time you worked a bath where the company was enjoyable. “Just haven’t seen you around before, that’s all.”

He chuckles. It’s low and sinful. You know the sound will repeat in your head later tonight once you’re alone in your room. “Darling, the less you know, the better.” The pet name sends a pleasant buzz through your body. The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes you bolder and drunk on impulsivity.

You tilt your face forward, your nose brushing against his mask. “Why? Would you have to kill me otherwise?” You’re joking, but the look in his eyes sends a chill down your spine. And then you remember that you know nothing about this man. You don’t even know his name.

His eyes trail down to your lips, and you almost miss how his throat bobs. “Wouldn’t that be a shame,” he mumbles. He locks his gaze back onto yours, and you inch closer. Would you have kissed by now if the mask wasn’t in the way? Your lashes flutter, lips a hair away from his face. He waits for you to make a move. Your fingers dig into the wooden boards of the tub, and your lips graze cotton. At the last second, you wrench yourself away, staring at the wooden floorboards. 

Tar coats your throat once more, and the words feel like molasses on your tongue. “If you don’t need me anymore, I can head on out.” 

You’re moments away from bolting, but his stern tone stops you. “No,” then a bit softer, “stay.” You peer at his eyes and relax your shoulders.

Your lips quirk into a smile, and you mock salute. “Yes, sir. I promise to be on the lookout. No one will attack you while you’re buck naked.” You pull a stool up to the side of the tub and sit. 

He chuffs and rolls his eyes. “Ghost will do.”

“Ghost, huh? Unusual name,” you comment, introducing yourself afterwards. 

“Yeah? Well, it’s not as stupid as Soap.” You have no idea who Soap is, but you feel sorry for them. 

“Who would name their child—”

“Do you live alone?” he interrupts you.

You pause at the sudden shift in conversation. “I beg your pardon?”

“You work two jobs. No one to go home to?” And there’s that look again like he’s studying you.

You frown. “I don’t think that’s very polite of you to assume.”

He leans back and closes his eyes. “So that’s a yes, then.” You swear he’s smirking underneath that mask; he sounds too smug not to be.

You bristle, heat crawling up the nape of your neck.“Well, what about you? Got a ranch with a wife and five kids?” you snap.

He cracks open his eyes and gives you a sidelong glance. “Jealous?” he teases with a lilt in his voice. “No. I have my horse and my… brothers. That’s enough for me.”

“You don’t get lonely?” you ask.

“Never, especially not right now.” His stare is a permanent brand on your skin. You shift in your seat before getting up entirely. Grabbing the towel from him, you walk behind the tub. 

You clear your throat, and he leans forward, exposing his muscular back to you. You hold your breath and trace what looks like an old knife wound. “Where did you get this?”

Ghost shakes his head. “Like I said. The less you know, the better.” You don’t press further, cataloging each scar you come across and tucking the information into the far recesses of your mind. 

When you’re done scrubbing his back, the bubbles have dissipated. The water is cloudy from the soap, but you can see the long curve of his cock twitching. Your fingers itch to explore his shaft and trace every vein you find. 

His words snap you out of your daze. “Tell me, love. Have you ever ridden before?” It’s a random question, but maybe this is his attempt at small talk. You search his eyes but can’t decipher the emotion they hold. 

“I don’t own a horse, but I can ride one,” you reply. You can barely afford for yourself, let alone another creature. One day you’ll scrounge up enough money and get the hell out of this town. But for now, you remain stuck. Stuck pouring drinks. Stuck dealing with drunkards. Stuck bathing adult men who can’t seem to bathe themselves. 

“What about a cowboy? Ever ridden one of those?” He looks dead serious. Is this attractive man flirting with you? Your eyes flick towards the water and fuck if you thought he was big before. 

You bite your lip and walk around to his side. “Not lately,” you answer. Your fingers dip beneath the water and skim along his stomach. “Are you offering to take me on a ride?” And you’re drowning, swimming in endless depths of honey and gold. You sink deeper. Feel your blood turn to sludge as your limbs become heavy. All oxygen leaves the room when his large hands encompass yours. 

“I am. Won’t throw a fuss if you decline,” Ghost murmurs. It’s an offer, not a demand. Calluses brush against the back of your hand. You pull away and take a few steps back. He nods and places his hands on the sides of the tub. Before he can lift himself out, your clothes plop onto the ground in a pile. The soft thump draws his attention, and his irises darken. 

You preen under his appraising stare, rubbing your thighs together for relief. The air teases your nipples into stiff peaks, and you hear him swallow. His eyes follow the sway of your hips as you strut closer. 

He sucks in a breath. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” and his voice cracks with want. 

You drag a finger across his chest, feeling his muscles flex underneath your touch. Leaning into his ear, you whisper, “Is there room for one more in there?”

The groan he utters sends a spike of arousal to your core. He looks at you with blown pupils and gives his shaft a few pumps. “There’s a seat right here,” he says, and you climb into the tub to claim it. The water is lukewarm at best, but the man beneath you radiates heat. Your clit brushes against the tip of his cock, and you hiss through clenched teeth. You definitely need some preparation before attempting to take his length in you. Not only is he long, but he’s girthy too. And the thought of it splitting you apart makes you clench. You seat yourself on his thighs, his erection pressing against your stomach. His hands cup your bottom, and he kneads the soft flesh. “Gotta stretch you out first,” and his fingers spread your slick folds. Your breath hitches when he draws circles around your entrance. “Ready?” 

“Fuck yes,” you respond, aching to be filled. Ghost plunges one finger inside, and your nails dig into his shoulders. One of his fingers feels like two of yours. The slight burn fizzles when he sets a steady pace, pumping his finger in and out of you. Your hips rock to match his movements. “More,” you plead. 

A breathy chuckle rumbles from his chest. “As you wish,” and he adds another digit. Crescent moons mark his skin, and the sting spurs him on. He crooks his fingers to reach the spongy area on your walls. All your nerves short-circuit, and you beg him to do it again. So he focuses on that sweet spot, stroking until your vision becomes spotty. When the meaty part of his palm grinds against your clit, your walls spasm as your orgasm hits you like a stampede. He doesn’t stop, pistoning his fingers with deadly precision.

“No more, please,” you beg. You’re starting to become too sensitive. The pleasure is teetering on that fine line that separates it from pain. You try to wiggle away, but his other hand pins you in place.

“You can take it. I know you can,” Ghost coos, fingers seeking to coax another climax from you. You bite your lip and shake your head. Tears sting the corner of your eyes. Still riding your previous high, you’re dangerously close to that precipice. He adds a third finger, sending you careening off the edge. The second orgasm rips through you, electricity sparking through your veins and setting every nerve ablaze. This time he slows down and allows you to ride his fingers. Your hips roll, grinding against his palm, anything to add to the friction.

“Fuuuuck,” you moan, trembling from the aftershocks of your climax. You slide off his fingers and bring them to your mouth, licking them clean.

He groans at the sight. “Fucking hell, pet.” His hips jerk when you grip his cock, sliding your thumb across the tip. “Ride me,” he orders. The authoritative tone makes your stomach coil. His hands rest on your waist, fingertips bruising your hips. “Don’t be shy. Show me how well you can ride my cock.” His words are filthy, and you want him to kiss that dirty mouth of his.

You take in a shaky breath. “Yes, sir.” Aligning yourself, you sink down slowly. The stretch is incomparable to earlier. Even after three fingers, you’re still struggling to take him. He grunts and digs into your waist, thighs quivering with anticipation. There’s a delicious burn as your cunt stretches to accommodate his girthy length. He disappears into you inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt.

“Christ, you’re tight,” he spits out. You try to even your breathing. Your pulse is pounding in your ears, and you can feel him throbbing inside you. His tip kisses the entrance of your womb, and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. “Alright there, love?” Your mind is unable to process his question. There’s a thick fog blanketing your head, and all you manage is a whimper. He chuckles and strokes your lower back. “You haven’t even started moving yet.”

Like a newborn foal, your legs struggle to support your weight. Using his thighs, you lift yourself up and sink back down. The sensation of his cock dragging along your walls knocks all the air out of your lungs. You’re eager to chase that feeling. You pick up the pace, finding a comfortable rhythm. The water around you sloshes, and waves form with each bounce of your hips. His hands trail up your body, and he brushes your nipples with his thumbs. He hums, admiring how they pebble from his touch. You shudder and lean into him, mewling when he tugs and twists your nipples between his fingers.

“You’re riding me so well, pet.” His praise is music to your ears. You want to hear more, want him to moan your name as you milk him for all he’s got. So your hips move quicker, slamming into him at a brutal pace. He’s consistently rubbing against your cervix, and you’ve already cum multiple times because of this. “Gonna kill me with that sweet cunt of yours,” he grunts. 

The only thought left in your mind is to feel his seed spill inside you. And when you beg him to fill you up, the look he gives you is predatory. His hands return to your waist, and he starts using you. He uses you like an object for his pleasure. His strong arms lift you before slamming you down onto his cock, and he repeats this motion. You don’t move, too cock-drunk to do anything but take what he gives you.  

All you can smell is cedar and bourbon mixed with the musk of sweat. It overwhelms you, and you don’t think you can work at the bar anymore without your arousal smouldering like the embers of a flame. A salty aftertaste remains on your tongue, and you wonder if he tastes as good as he smells. Ghost curses when you clench around him like a vice. You could listen to him make these noises forever.

He’s twitching wildly inside you, and your clit throbs alongside it. “Fuck, darling. Gonna stuff you full just like you asked. You’re filthy like that, aren’t ya? Riding a man you just met like a whore, begging him to fill you with his seed.” You clench at his words, and his amused chuckle tightens the knot in your stomach. His deft fingers find your clit and mercilessly tease the bundle of nerves. The toe-curling pleasure is too much. You’re starting to lose track of where one orgasm ends and another orgasm begins. “Again. Cum,” he commands, and your body obeys. Your vision blurs, and your heartbeat crescendoes in your ears. He’s officially ruined having sex with anyone else for you.

His hips rut into you, chasing his own high. Your walls flutter around his cock, and it throbs in response. He chants your name like a prayer, dissolving into a groan as he empties his seed inside you. Thick ropes of hot cum paint your walls. You stay seated, panting to catch your breath. His chest heaves, glistening with sweat. He admires the bulge in your stomach before gingerly unsheathing himself from you. A grimace tugs at your lips as you clench around emptiness.

Ghost steps out of the tub and dries himself with a spare towel from your basket. He gets dressed and wordlessly moves towards the door.

“Will I see you again?” you ask, clambering after him. Your knees knock together, but your grip on the tub keeps you upright. The breeze chills your wet skin, and you can barely walk. You’re worried he’ll disappear if you let him go. Like an apparition. Like a ghost.

He pauses in front of the door and looks at you over his shoulder. “Do you know how to shoot?”

“I’ve been meaning to learn—”

He interrupts you. He seems to have a habit of doing that. “Sunrise. At the lake. I’ll teach you,” and he leaves without another word.

You stagger over to your clothes and slip them on, the fabric clinging to your damp skin. When you grab the basket from the counter, you nearly drop it from the unexpected weight. Rummaging through the towels, your fingers brush against cool metal. 

Inside is the revolver you had your eye on, and engraved on the barrel is a familiar skull.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

The number of headcanons and plot bunnies that spawned from my brain is insane.

Could this be an entire series? Easily. Will I write it? Probably not. Maybe eventually.

I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Reblogs are appreciated!

[greetingfromthedead]

I generally dislike self-promoting my own stuff, but I will make an exception for this monster of a project. It has been about 2 months since the full release and there are new people around so let me introduce you to Tempest Wind.

Tempest Wind is a Vash x F!Reader story that has a bit of this and a bit of that. Tooth rotting sweetness and some gut wrenching angst that spans for 84 Chapters and ~166k words. It has a rating of 18+ because of the themes as it gets quite dark and a bit gory at times and that's part of the story, but there is also a occasional smut for those who like it, but those chapters have a warning about it and you can skip the smut if you're not into it (it's not really story relevant). The events take place mostly pre-Tristamp, but my Vash has quite a bit of influence from the '98 version since I watched it while I wrote the first like 20 chapters.

Vash stumbles into a town far in the west and comes across two boys opening up a coffin in the middle of town only to find a woman laying in there like she laid down for a nap just moments ago (if it wasn't for the knife in her chest). Vash does the decent thing and pulls out the murder weapon only to find that the "corpse" comes back to life and walks out of town with nothing but the clothes on her back. Our Stampede decides to investigate and follow the mysterious figure (to your great dismay).

If this sounds at all intriguing then you can check it out on your preferred platform: Tumblr! AO3! Wattpad! Quotev!

And even if this doesn't quite sound like your cup of tea, I write quite a bit of Trigun x Reader stuff, so feel free to check out my Masterlist.

I am also considering turning some more chapters into oneshots.

The following is a Sooty yap fest and if you're not interested, feel free to skip it:

I wrote and edited Tempest Wind over the course of the winter, I started basically with the first snow and published it all before the snow could all melt. In hindsight it is absolutely insane how I wrote it, I basically made myself write at least a little bit every day with only some exceptions. Generally I wrote one chapter a day, but there where times I pumped out like 3 or 4. I am still very proud of it, this is the longest series I have ever written and it has more words than all the other stuff I had previously written combined. I really loved writing this and before I started writing, I knew how the story would begin and end + a few things in the middle, but most of this kinda just happened, the characters came to life in my head and just started dong things. I learned so much while writing this and the quality of the chapters in the beginning and end are worlds apart imo. It means a lot to me to see people enjoy Tempest Wind and my other stuff too. I am grateful for all the kind comments I have received and I just love this community and my readers ❤❤❤

[hydrangeyes]

Sauce

So if you don't know, Yes this already existed, my old account was deleted (accident but I can tell I won't be getting it back), and am reposting my old x male reader works!

I don't know if I saved all of them but here is one that was saved to my AO3 account.

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Fat gum x male reader, *food smut pretty much, just fat gum coming home after a rough day and seeing you cooking his comfort food gets him going

warnings: light feeding play, established relationship, creampie, cum eating, power bottom Fat gum/Taishiro, giggly sex

I want to come back to this one soo bad! writing giggly sex is so fun, so maybe maybe also unfinished lmao

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A couple of a couple of intense arrests towards the end of his patrol and taishiro was just about ready to eat himself into a food coma he was so exhausted. But given how late it was anything he was craving was closed, so with a goodbye wave to his two favorite interns he starts heading home. Officially.

Using what’s left of his energy, Taishiro makes it back to his home. Yawning lightly he lazily unlocks and makes his way inside, only to smell...

“Takoyaki?”

Which could only mean.

“ Y/N!!!” He calls out hearing a startled yelp and something drop on the floor. He sheepishly makes his way to the kitchen and chuckles seeing you picking up a pair of chopsticks.

There you were looking all soft and cozy, wearing some sweatpants and one of his shirts. “Taishiro what did I tell you about startling me!” you huff tossing the chopsticks into the sink as he comes over and tugging you into a tight hug.

“mmh missed ya~”

You sigh and return the hug happily, you missed him too. Being on a long mission and then coming back only for him to be pulling some extra shifts. You both snuggle and cling to each other happily just soaking in each others warmth.

“MM made you something.” You coo pulling back and giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. He doesn’t let go as you walk back to unplug the pop maker. Luckily when he startled you, you already plated the last one.

“homemade Takoyaki? Aw gummy bear~” he perks reaching for one and popping it into his mouth. “Hey! I’m not done, I still have to put the toppings on!” you chuckle as he hums happily going for another.

Slipping off, you go and get the kimchi and shredded chicken mix out of the fridge. “Oh! it’s done?” Taishiro asks excitedly eating his second ball, watching you closely. “mhm! was done yesterday.” you grin putting abit on half the balls and sprinkle the mix on top of the other half.

Happily you lift one up to his mouth with a grin. “Say aahh” You teasingly cooed. Taishiro chuckles opening his mouth and allowing you to feed him the tasty snack. You eagerly watch as he chewed and then brightened. Success.

“Y/n! gummy bear that tasted delicious!! the way you’ve made this batch of kimchi is definitely the best so far!” He gushes nudging for you to give him another.

You can’t help but feel proud as you feed him another one. It took you ages to get the right taste and texture for a decent kimchi, even more for it to taste so good.

“what about you?”

“I’m glad it’s good, I love it when you enjoy the food I make. Especially since I want to make you some comfort food after long days.” you comment watching him nibble on this one. Taishiro hums taking his time with it, even going as far as to lick the fork. you lean against the counter proud of yourself.

“Mh~ Sweethearttt~” he coos leaning forward to give you a soft kiss, just the thought of you making food for when he gets home melted his heart. but hearing you learning new recipes specifically for his comfort?

In the back of his head he notes that he needed to do something for you. Maybe taking some time off, a couples vacation?

Keeping that also in mind, he leans back, foreheads still touching “This is exactly what I needed today.” he says watching you try and put the fork back on the table. You melt, feeling warm always happy to improve his mood after a rough day. “Good, want to finish the rest?”

(Just typing not editing yet):

You grin reaching back for the one he was nibbling on and gently feeds him from your hands. “Trust me, I ate the first batch.”

Taishiro let’s out a pleased sigh eating it up before licking your fingers. An idea came to mind, now taking his time lapping up the salty sauce.

You groan at the feeling licking your own lips as you watch Taishiro stares up at you. “T-tai?” Your heart starts to beat faster, free hand gripping the counter edge. Taishiro grins with a bit of teeth showing. “Come on~ Feed me another one?”

“I really do appreciate you making this for me sir~” he mumbles, eyes hooded as you bring another ball up to his mouth. You try to focus but with how he was staring at you heatedly and the warmth of his body pressing into your own, it was abit hard.

Swallowing and trying to not show how affected you were, you reach for the plate. Only taking your eyes off of him for just a minute, but it was enough for Taishiro to wiggle closer between your legs.

---------Smut under here-------

Popping the takoyaki into his mouth, he playfully takes his time licking 'clean' off two of your fingers, teasingly sucking the tips into his mouth. Pleased as he feels you tremble lightly, slipping his tongue between digits to tease you even more. Finally, he moves back after a soft suck on the tip of your fingers. “So I’m going to reward you.”

Shakily you nod letting him guide you to sit at the kitchen table.

You shivered feeling your cheeks warm and a shock down your stomach. “what type of reward?” is the only thing you can think to say, leaning in as taishiro kisses your cheek and down to your neck straddling your lap.

“Mhm, it’s been a while hasn’t it? Since you’ve last stuffed and fucked me stupid.” He purrs tugging at your shirt hungrily. You couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning your head onto his shoulder. He pouts and whining softly but also trying to hold in a laugh. “Y/n, I’m serious!”

“I know, I know you’re just so cute when you dirty talk.” You snicker cupping his face and kissing it before settling on his lips giving them a nip. “Mm but you're right ~”

Taishiro groans happily as you start trailing bites and kisses from his jaw to neck. One hand reaching up to grip the back of your head and press for more. You pull back only to try and unzip his jacket. “All your marks are gone too. I want them back.” taishiro almost demands, shruging his jacket off.

You let out a pleasure sigh as he rocks his hips against your crotch. The pressure on your trapped cock working abit too well. 'Gotcha.' Taishiro thinks and groans lightly as you grip his hips and grinding back a bit harder.

"A-ah come on sir~ just a quick round here then one in the bedroom?" He pants out gripping your shoulders now to keep steady as you nuzzle his chest. "Mm so soft~" you whisper mostly to yourself.

Letting out an impatient huff, taishiro grips the back of your head again and yanks "y/n!! Focus!" He growls out arching.

Hissing, you glare playfully up at him and swiftly slap his

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Edit Nov.8.2023: LMAOOOOO it legit ends there. I genuinely don't know if I didn't finish this or if wattpad came in a chopped it like it did my one piece smut one. (fyi I use wattpad as a backup way back when)

[batztrangem]

Bo Sinclair NSFW Alphabet

Author's Note: What's this? My first time ever writing anything remotely smut related? Yep. Here we are. It was a long time coming honestly. I've NEVER written smut before, only the occasional sexual innuendo. So please go easy on me. This also means that this book is officially being tagged as mature.

Warning: This chapter is for 18+. Minors do not interact.

A=Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Bo is surprisingly attentive when it comes to aftercare. He'll help clean you up and once that's done you can expect some cuddling.

B=Body Part (what's their favorite body part of yours)

He's an ass guy. Surprise, surprise. It doesn't matter if your butt is big or small or flat, he doesn't care.

C=Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

When it comes to location, Bo actually doesn't have much of a preference. He'll probably go with whatever you insist on. He'll pull out if you want or he'll cum inside you. He likes to respect your preference since he doesn't really have one.

D=Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

First off, he likes hair pulling. Something about it really gets him going. And secondly, he has a major praise kink but I doubt he'll admit to it.

E=Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing)

Bo is actually decently experienced. He's had a few one night stands and a few hook ups with tourists who hadn't realized how unlucky they were. He knows what he's doing most of the time and if he doesn't, he can learn quick.

F=Favorite Position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. A bit vanilla, perhaps, but he wants to be able to see you. On the rare occasion, he'll go for doggy style. And if you can convince him to sub, cowgirl it is.

G=Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Bo isn't that goofy when it comes to sex, however, he's not serious 100% of the time either. He likes sex to be fun for both you and him. He's a tease and can be rather playful sometimes.

H=Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Bo is pretty well groomed down there. He usually keeps his hair trimmed. As for body hair on his partner, he doesn't really mind. It's just hair after all.

I=Intimacy (how are they during the moment, intimately/romantically speaking?)

Bo can be very intimate but you might have to break down some of his walks first. Vulnerability isn't a strong suit of his and it may take a while to see his soft, intimate side.

J=Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it an average amount of times unless he happens to be extremely turned on. As for what gets him in the mood to do so, it's you.

K=Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation. Not him, you. Honestly, he can't get enough of seeing you overstimulated sometimes. But if it truly becomes too much, he will stop. He would never want to push you too far over the limit.

Exhibition. Something about just the thought of someone possibly seeing the two of you really gets Bo going. He has absolutely thought about having sex with you in the garage of the gas station, especially when he knows some unwanted tourists could be lurking around.

Breeding. A feel like this one shouldn't have to be explained. Come on, we all knew this was coming. To be fair, this is more of a mild kink of his.

Edging and orgasm denial. This motherfucker truly can't get enough of edging you. He loves to get you right on the brink of climax and being the asshole he is, purposely stops doing whatever he's doing. And he'll keep doing it until your an absolute mess.

L=Location (favorite places to do it)

Usually he prefers the bedroom, but like I said before, I think Bo might have a little exhibition kink. So location doesn't really matter to him all that much. I do however think there are days where he prefers privacy and will default to the bedroom.

M=Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When it comes to turn ons, he's pretty simple. Flirting, sexy clothes, etc., etc. He is a sucker for begging. He really likes to see you being needy for some reason.

N=No (something they won't do)

Bondage. Tying him up is out of the question. Just...no. He has trauma that comes from being bound so it's not happening. Tying you up is a different story though. He will absolutely tie you up.

O=Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Likes receiving but much rather give. He loves to watch you come undone while he's down there. Hearing you and seeing you while he goes to town drives him wild.

P=Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Bo can definitely fall into both categories. It honestly all depends on how both of you are feeling (and whether or not Bo is comfortable with vulnerability).

Q=Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Bo doesn't mind quickies at all. If you're down, he's down. They don't happen too often but the option is always there.

R=Risk (are they up to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Bo is fine with risk and he's open to new things. He obviously has his boundaries though ( *cough* don't tie him up *cough* ). If he doesn't want to do something, he isn't afraid to voice his opinion. But he usually is fine with experimenting.

S=Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He has a high libido and I feel like that fuels his stamina. Bo could easily go multiple rounds. I feel like he could honestly go up to 3 rounds at least. He does have his limits though.

T=Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Bo is not opposed to toys, however, he prefers to use them on you. It might take a little bit of time (and a lot of convincing) before he lets you use one on him.

U=Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

This motherfucker right here is the king of teasing. It's his love language. His bread and butter. He's an asshole. He know it and he likes it. Hearing you whine is like music to his ears. He likes to watch you unravel and he always knows exactly how to do it. Bo pays attention to everything you do and by now he knows every little thing that gets you going.

And don’t be shy, tease him back.

V=Volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make, etc.?)

When it comes to volume, Bo is average. He's not too loud but he's not silent either. You'll definitely get plenty of moans and little grunts out of him. The close you two get, the more likely he is to get louder.

W=Wild Card (a random headcanon for the character)

Deep down, and I mean really deep down, there's a sub in Bo. He hates to admit it but he is in fact a switch. You'll only discover this if you break down those walls I was talking about. Bo isn't really openly vulnerable and he considers being anything but dominate, vulnerability. It may take some work to get him to be comfortable with this side of him but it can happen. Whether he likes to admit it or not, he craves softness. He craves intimacy. And deep down he craves the feeling of being taken care of. The best thing you can do is start slow. And I mean really slow. But eventually, you'll see a new side of him.

X=X-Ray (what's going on under those clothes)

This man right here is packing. When it comes to length, he is a bit above average but he is rather thick. If you must know, he is circumcised.

Y=Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Pretty high but his libido isn't extreme. Bo is pretty much always ready sex.

Z =Zzzzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Bo can fall asleep rather quickly. He likes to hold onto you and cuddle as both of you go to sleep.

Author's Note: And that's it! I can't believe I just wrote my first smut related...anything. I hope it wasn't too bad. My face is on fire right now so...see you in the next chapter.

[latibvles]

FIC WRITER INTERVIEW

Thank you to @softguarnere , @hesbuckcompton-baby , & @mercurygray for the tags :) let’s get into it

—

HOW MANY WORKS DO YOU HAVE ON AO3?

Nine! I’ve had AO3 for a while, but I was a Wattpad fic writer for a long, long time.

WHAT’S YOUR TOTAL AO3 WORD COUNT?

147,512

WHAT ARE YOUR TOP FIVE FICS BY KUDOS?

Sad, Beautiful, Tragic, its connected works, and then a Ron character study. Can we tell I’ve only been posting on AO3 for a year yet?

DO YOU RESPOND TO COMMENTS? WHY OR WHY NOT?

I try to! If someone’s taking the time out of their day to say something about what I’ve written, commenting back is the least I can do — it’s a good way to say thank you (I’ve also met a lot of my friends through commenting and responding to comments).

WHAT’S THE FIC YOU’VE WRITTEN WITH THE ANGSTIEST ENDING?

…I’m a sucker for happy endings, guys. I can’t think of one off the top of my head. I know I wrote an apocalypse au Vicki/Hoos thing that had a pretty stress-inducing end, but other than that, I can’t think too much on it.

WHAT’S THE FIC YOU’VE WRITTEN WITH THE HAPPIEST ENDING?

I don’t know if this counts but Home For Christmas ends with the Speirs family trying for another kid a-la-fade to black, so I think that’s a pretty decent end

DO YOU WRITE CROSSOVERS?

My secret plan is to actually get all the OFCs to assemble like the power rangers in the final shot of a Nickelodeon film (yes I write crossovers, fandom-related and friend-character related, THEYRE FUN!)

HAVE YOU EVER RECEIVED HATE ON A FIC?

Yes when I was like twelve years old, but otherwise people are very kind. Or maybe my friends are right about me being a little scary [big shrug]

DO YOU WRITE SMUT? IF SO, WHAT KIND?

Yeah, very rarely PWP, but I do write it. It tends to lean towards M/F, but I’m not opposed to trying my hand at other stuff if inspiration strikes. Just don’t expect anything insane over here.

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A FIC STOLEN?

God I hope not.

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A FIC TRANSLATED?

nope!

HAVE YOU EVER CO-WRITTEN A FIC BEFORE?

Nope! But I do tend to wrap all my friends into AU ideas and then we branch off and do our own things with it (hello Sam and the Pacific Band AU)

WHATS YOUR ALL-TIME FAVORITE SHIP?

I never know how to answer this because I just Like Things but it’s probable Percabeth. The couple that raised me.

WHATS A WIP THAT YOU WANT TO FINISH BUT DONT THINK YOU EVER WILL?

Only a Sith deals in absolutes.

WHAT ARE YOUR WRITING STRENGTHS?

I’ve been told I’m good at capturing character voice / making dialogue distinct. I also think I’m pretty good at writing complex family dynamics.

WHAT ARE YOUR WRITING WEAKNESSES?

Inability to stfu and describing settings. No matter how many reference photos I stare at I can never adequately describe a layout of a building to save my life.

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON WRITING DIALOGUE IN OTHER LANGUAGES IN A FIC?

It’s fun! Tragically I don’t speak the languages that would likely be spoken in the fandom I write currently (French, German) but as someone learning Spanish I’ve managed to slip a few Spanish words in there, and then in original work I’ve done it before.

WHAT WAS THE FIRST FANDOM YOU WROTE FOR?

Shoutout Riordanverse

WHAT'S A FANDOM/SHIP YOU HAVEN'T WRITTEN FOR YET BUT WANT TO?

Not too sure to be completely honest. I wanted to write the Ron/Daisy/Nix crack-throuple thing eventually, or just the Daisy/Nix crackship, because I guess I just have a thing for hot messes. And also the 87 MOTA OC ideas / ships I have in the back of my brain

WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE FIC YOU'VE WRITTEN?

Sad Beautiful Tragic is a love letter to a seasonally-depressed college sophomore who felt extremely disconnected from the world around her, and so it is extremely near to my heart. Firstborn AO3 fic privileges.

TAGGING: fairly certain all my go-to tag people have been tagged on this, so if you’re seeing this: I tag you, person on the internet, if you have not done it already.