#the way people felt about The Incredible Melting Man

[emmathompsonegot]

Has anyone written a book on direct to streaming movies yet? They definitely deserve a book

[bpmiranda]

Honey |l. howlett| nsfw

A/N: small town recluse!logan, dbf!logan, taboo themes, sunshine!reader, f!reader, cheating (kind of), fingering, intercourse, cum in mouth, daddy!logan, sub!reader, the convenience of a snow storm

The only time Logan had to interact with other people was when he visited the family owned store at the end of his road, which still sat about five miles from his cabin. Ideally, Logan would like to avoid going out in general, but he could make this one exception - for her.

Just seeing her made his aches and pains melt away. That sweet, bright smile beaming at him whenever he came in behind the sound of the door bell ringing. Her eyes lighting up at the sight of him as she called sweetly, “Dad, Mr. Logan’s here!” while giving him a tight hug which he was happy to return.

Logan had saved Y/N’s dad in a car accident, nothing major, but it meant the world to her and her father. They were probably the people he was closest to in his life right now. “How’re you doin’, honey?” Logan asked as she had begun to gather the staple items he usually came in for every two weeks.

“I’m okay,” She smiled, setting his items carefully in a brown paper bag and he looked at her curiously, noting a hint of worry. “I’m still waiting to hear back from college.” She admitted, folding her arms on the counter top and sighing. “I’m a little stressed out.”

“I’m sure it won’t be long now,” Logan smiled, leaning onto the counter, closer to her, the scent of honey and vanilla that he associated with her invigorating his senses. “You’re a smart girl, they’d be lucky to take you.”

Y/N blushed and then her dad came out from the stock room with a grin. “Isn’t she?” He agreed with a proud grin, shaking Logan’s hand and patting him on the shoulder. “How are you, dear friend?”

“I’m good, I’m good. Just picking up some supplies. You got anymore honey jars in?” Logan asked, tapping the counter lightly as he shot Y/N a wink before following her dad to the pantry aisle.

It felt incredibly inappropriate for Y/N to have this crush on an older man, but she couldn’t help the way he made her belly float with butterflies. The way he smiled at her always made her blush and she swore he felt something in return. She knew Logan to be a reserved type, keeping himself nestled in the mountains away from everyone, yet he’d always make the drive down when he knew they offered house calls. Maybe, possibly, he felt something too.

“Sweetheart, your friend Adam is outside.” Her dad said, drawing her out of her thoughts as he returned to the counter with Logan and more items to be checked out. “I’ll ring this up, go ahead.” He ushered and she nodded, smiling politely at Logan as she excused herself.

“The boyfriend?” Logan asked, watching from inside as the boy pulled her into a hug.

“If you wanna call it that, don’t know if they’ll last through college.” Her dad chuckled as he packed the remaining items into bags. “Y/N’s on the fence about him. He’s a good kid though, bright future ahead of them both.” Logan only nodded, his eyes glued on the young couple.

Y/N had tried to call it off between them because she knew they would be going to different colleges and she didn’t know how well a long distance relationship would work. Adam was quite insistent, however, that they could and should make it work. “Hi baby,” He greeted her with a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Just came by to check on you.” He smiled, sitting against the hood of his car as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Thanks,” She smiled, looking over into the store and spotting Logan’s eyes boring into her. “You heard back from anywhere yet?” She asked, trying to focus on their conversation.

“Not yet, it’s still early.” Adam cleared his throat and he reached out to take her by the hip and bring her into him. “There’s still time for us.”

Keeping her arms crossed as he tried to look her in the eyes, she sighed, “Adam, please.” Her ears caught the faint ring of the store door and she looked up to see Logan loading up his truck, a cigar in his mouth. His eyes met hers and he seemed to be watching her intently. “Not right now.” She told the heartbroken boy who was looking at her with pleading eyes.

“Why not?” Adam asked, holding her cheek in his hand and Y/N shook her head, pushing his arms away from her and taking a step back. Adam sighed and nodded, scratching the back of his head and standing up straight. “Okay, I get it. I’m pushing you too much.”

“You’re not.” Y/N felt bad that she was so distracted, more focused on the way Logan loaded up the chopped wood into the bed of his truck than the pleas of the boy asking for her to take him back. “I just think we had a really good two years, but we’re not on the same page anymore.”

“I love you.” Adam frowned.

Y/N gave him a pitiful look and she shook her head. “You don’t. You’re just comfortable with me. We’re still young, and chances are we aren’t going to get married anyway.”

“How can you be sure?” He asked.

“I wouldn’t be wanting a break up if I were in love, Adam.” Y/N said with an apologetic look. The young boy went to counter her argument, but jumped slightly at the sound of Logan’s tailgate slamming shut. They both looked over at him and Logan waved at Y/N. “See you, Mr. Logan!” She called with a smile as they watched him start his truck and drive off into the mountains.

“That guy is odd.” Adam commented and she gave him a pointed look.

“That guy saved my dad’s life.” She said with an eye roll. “I think we’ve caught up now, Adam. Please take some time and consider a break. I think it’d be good for us.” She told him before heading back into the warmth of her dad’s store, greeted with a sympathetic smile. “Next time, I’m sending you out to talk to him.” She joked, making her dad laugh.

“No, thanks, sweetheart.”

The day she got her acceptance letter from college was the best day of her life for two reasons: first, she was officially a college student and second, that was the day her dad sent her to Logan’s cabin to drop off an order he had called in - honey jars and cigars. “Don’t forget your coat!” Her dad called after her as she was leaving. “It’s supposed to start snowing tonight.”

Fortunately, it wasn’t an awfully long drive to Logan’s cabin. Unfortunately, it was much more inclined than she had expected, deeper into the woods than she realized. When his cabin came into view and it began snowing, she was relieved to have at least made it there safely.

At the sound of the old truck pulling into his property, Logan greeted her at the door and invited her in out of the cold, pulling the door shut behind her against the heavy winds. “Didn’t think you’d be coming up.” He commented as he took the bag from her and set it on the kitchen table.

“The store was pretty busy,” She said with a smile as she looked around the cabin while shaking her coat off. Logan hung it on the coat rack and then gazed at her brown overall dress under which she was wearing a white long-sleeve. “You know, with the storm coming everyone wants to be prepared tonight.”

“I can imagine.” Logan said, watching her take it upon herself to look around his little home. Her body was shivering slightly, skirt of her dress swaying above her knees with every step, her legs covered in thin, dark tights running into her brown, lace up boots. Her hair was cascading over her shoulders and it flipped as she turned to him with a bright smile. “I like this,” She said, pointing at a wooden werewolf figurine sitting on the mantle above the fireplace. “He’s cute.”

“Sure is.” Logan teased, focusing on unpacking the jars of honey and cigars. Y/N walked back over to him and watched him set the various jars in the cupboards.

“You like honey.” She commented, a blush creeping onto her cheeks as he turned around and leaned against his cabinets to stare at her. “You buy a lot of it.”

After Logan had miraculously saved her dad from that car accident in these very mountains, they thanked him with a basket of goodies and invited him to have dinner with them. Y/N was a big sweet tooth back then which Logan noticed and she had offered him a spoonful of honey for his coffee. Before she had time to react, Logan had slowly reached over and wiped a dribble of honey from her bottom lip, brought his thumb into his mouth, and kept his eyes locked on hers as he licked it clean. “It is good,” He had said, using his wet thumb to wipe off the remaining smudge of honey on her lips. “Thanks, honey.” It had become a consistent item in his pantry from that moment.

“I like your honey.” He clarified, though it wasn’t necessary as she knew he didn’t shop anywhere else but her father’s store.

Y/N forced down the lump in her throat and she pointed to the cigars. “Are those essential for a snowstorm?” She asked, walking closer to him with that kind smile that filled him with reason.

Logan rubbed his jaw pensively, the scent of her growing heavy the longer she stood in his cabin. Honey, coffee, that vanilla hand lotion she carried in her bag. She was warmth, and there was a storm coming. “Not much to do up here by myself.”

“Why are you by yourself?” She asked, sitting on the kitchen table across from where he stood, her legs swinging ever so slightly as she laid her hands flat on the tabletop on either side of her.

“Why do you want to break up with your boyfriend?” He dodged her question, watching her with a predatory stare as she sat so calmly in his home, alone with him, miles from everyone else.

Y/N shook her head with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I asked first.”

Logan chuckled as he pushed off the cabinets and took two steps towards her, closing the space between them, looking down at her intriguingly. “For safety.” He said with his hands aching at his sides.

“Yours?” She smirked, unable to imagine a man like him capable of being harmed by anyone else. His smirk told her she was right in assuming so.

“Yours.” Y/N shivered, not from the cold, but from the look he gave her as he leaned down and his nose nuzzled against hers. “Do you want to leave him for me?” He asked, his voice low as if he were promising not to tell anyone if it was true and she found herself nodding up at him with big eyes. His musk was intoxicating, her feet stopped swinging as he had stepped between them, and his hands laid flat on the table behind her. Her hands shakily smoothed up his toned abdomen, feeling every muscle through his flannel as she drew in a slow breath through parted lips. Their eyes were locked and she bit her lip anxiously. “You don’t want me, honey.”

“I do.” She whispered, begged.

Logan moistened his lips and his nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, confirming that she did in fact want him. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Logan,” She groaned softly, brows furrowed in frustration, not wanting to talk about anyone else, anything else that might deter him from this. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

An eyebrow raised in amusement and his nose lightly dragged across her cheek and her jaw, his lips pressed a small kiss to the pulse on her neck. “Does he know that?”

Y/N sighed, exasperated as her small fingers began working the buttons on his flannel to reveal his white t-shirt underneath. “He’s bad at taking hints,” She said, smiling as he chuckled into her neck. “Which is one of the reasons I’m breaking up with him.” She said pointedly and he laughed as he pulled away from her to see that sweet smile of hers.

“I hear you, baby.” Logan smirked, bringing his index finger underneath her chin and staring intensely into her eyes. “You know what you’re asking?” She nodded quickly, pushing his flannel off his shoulders and he shook it off before grabbing her face in his hands and kissing her hard. Y/N moaned against his lips, holding fistfuls of his t-shirt as they made out on his kitchen table. Logan groaned at the taste of her lips, the taste of her tongue as she let him invade her mouth, her moans wanton with urgency.

And right on cue, the phone rang.

“Who the hell?” Logan growled in frustration and Y/N pouted, wiping her lip as he pulled away to answer the call. “Yeah?” Logan’s eyes met hers and he nodded. “Yeah, she made it, she’s here.” Y/N’s mouth dropped slightly as she realized she had completely forgotten about her dad. Logan glanced outside through the kitchen window. “It’s coming down pretty rough. Want her to wait it out? I can make sure she gets down the mountain all right.” Logan was watching her as she sat breathless in his kitchen and he smirked. “Not at all, pal. It’s the least I could do.” He walked over to her and pointed to the phone. “Yep, she’s right here.”

Y/N took the phone and looked at Logan as she sweetly said, “Hi daddy!” He chuckled quietly and she almost moaned as his large hands smoothed down her thighs.

“Hey, sweetheart, I want you to wait the storm out with Logan, okay? It’s just nasty out here and I don’t want to risk you being in an accident.” Her dad said over the phone.

“Sure, dad! I don’t mind.” Y/N said with a smile as she felt Logan’s hard cock press into her knee while they held eye contact.

“Alright, dear, give me a call when it’s clear enough to head back.”

“Will do! Love you, dad!” She said, tilting her head to the side as Logan peppered kisses along her shoulder and neck.

“Love you, sweetheart.”

The moment the call ended, Logan snatched the phone from her and slammed it down on the table, wrapped his arms around her, tangled his fingers in her hair, and kissed her roughly. “All alone now.” He murmured, making her breathless with want as she untucked his t-shirt from his jeans and slid her hands up his abdomen.

“Logan,” She pleaded, tugging on his shirt and he let her pull it off, tossing it somewhere on the floor just before he knelt down between her knees and looked at her for final reassurance before he lifted the skirt of her dress. “Yes, please.” She choked out and he smirked while tearing a hole into her tights, moving her panties aside and touching her gently. “Oh, fuck.” She trembled as his fingers moved through her folds, traced her opening slowly, collecting her arousal on his fingers to lick it off.

“Mm,” Logan moaned, watching her bite her lip at the sight. “Like honey.” He said before kissing her thighs and focusing his attention on her pulsing cunt. His tongue moved through her, drooling against her as he tasted her and felt her drip for him. Y/N let her head hang back in pleasure, her fingernails scratching his scalp as she fisted tufts of his thick hair, using him to balance herself on the edge of the table.

“Fuck, Logan!” She gasped as he sucked on her clit and tongued his way into her core, groaning and mumbling into her about how good she tasted and how much he needed this. His hands held one thigh open and the other over his shoulder, caressing it softly as the chunky heel of her boot dug into his back in a way that he thoroughly enjoyed. The vibrations of his voice and groans sent her over the edge. “Oh, my God!” Her body tensed as the feeling of pleasure overcame her and she let out a high-pitched whine, hunching over slightly as she came quicker than ever before.

“You taste so damn good.” Logan said as he kissed her, giving her a taste of herself, making her moan as his fingers continued petting at her sensitive clit. “So needy,” He chuckled as she grabbed a hold of his wrist and rolled her clit into his palm. “Barely letting me do anything.” Her cheeks burned from embarrassment, but she didn’t care, she just wanted to feel him. Her lips pressed to his neck, nipping lightly at his skin which made him hum in approval, his free hand tense on the table as he held himself up while letting her use his palm to seek her second release.

“Oh, oh!” She cried as she came again, shaking and clenching her thighs tightly around his hand while he managed to slip two fingers into her and overstimulate her. “Ah, fuck, Logan!” She cried out, one hand pushing on his chest and the other trying to get his hand out from between her legs. Logan pressed his free hand into the small of her back, holding her close to him as he dragged out her orgasm and she fell limp against him.

“Is that all you can take, honey?” Logan chuckled with a dark look in his eyes. Y/N bit her lip and she shook her head. His lips captured hers in a kiss, his hands palming over the fat of her hips and ass as he moved her further onto the edge of the table.

“Give me more, daddy.” She breathed out as they had pulled apart, running her hands over his warm, toned chest and stopping at his belt buckle. “Please.”

Logan kissed her forehead and he undid his belt, lowered his jeans enough to pull his hard cock out, and she let out a throaty moan at the sight of him so heavy and thick. “Since you asked so nicely.” He teased, collecting her arousal for lubricant with the head of his cock. Y/N shuddered at the feeling, his swollen head prodding into her, bullying his way through her narrow walls with a low growl emitting from his throat. As she braced herself with her hands pressed firmly into his broad back, he wrapped one arm around her waist, and held the table down with his other hand to keep it from toppling over as he pounded into her.

Y/N cried out for him, called his name, barely able to string a full sentence together as he fucked her hard and slow. “Oh, daddy! It - ah - can’t ta - ugh - fuck!” Her body molded into his, let him fuck into her without protest, he loved how responsive she was to him.

“Does your boyfriend fuck you like this?” Logan asked cockily as he watched her eyes roll back into her head and she shook it with a shudder, her orgasm already slowly gushing out of her as he repeatedly pounded into that spot. “Can’t even talk, can you, honey?” He chuckled, kissing her neck and her jaw as he chased his own release.

His back muscles spasmed underneath her palms as his cock throbbed warningly inside her and he picked up his pace to have her cry out until he could feel her walls contracting with the force of a final orgasm and he pulled out. Y/N was suddenly brought down onto her knees and Logan squeezed her cheeks together as he fed his cock to her. “Mm,” She moaned around his dick, letting him slide as deep as possible down her throat and his load shot out in thick spurts. Logan swore and groaned, throwing his head back as he held onto her head with both hands, keeping himself stuffed in her gullet until he was drained and she had swallowed all of him. “Fuck.” She gasped as he slid out of her and let her go.

Logan was breathless as he adjusted his pants and grabbed her a glass of water. She chugged it down gratefully and he helped her onto her feet, sitting her down at the table with a serious look on his face. “You alright?”

“Yes.” She smiled at him, still trembling, but that trademark bright smile of hers unwavering. Logan scoffed and grinned, shaking his head before kissing her forehead and pulling on his t-shirt.

They made some coffee and talked about her starting college, his plans of apparently taking a trip to the United States soon. They were getting to know each other more intimately on his couch as they waited for the storm to pass and when it did, she found herself disappointed. “Mm,” She moaned in protest as he pulled his lips away from hers, his tongue leaving her mouth empty. “Not yet.”

With a smile, Logan patted her thigh and gently moved her legs off his lap as he stood up, disappointed himself. “Time to get you back to your dad.” Logan said as he pulled on his coat and handed Y/N hers.

“Will you still be here when I come back from college?” She asked as he walked her out to her truck.

Logan smiled down at her, noticed her nose quickly becoming red from the cold, her body shivering again, and he remembered the rip he made in her tights. “I sure plan to be,” He said as he kissed her softly and she beamed up at him when they pulled away. “Let’s get you home, honey.”

🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯

A moment of silence for Adam🫢

Honey II

Honey III

Masterlist

[swordgrace]

𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ cregan stark x fem!targtower!reader.

SYNOPSIS: as the youngest daughter of alicent hightower, you are wed to the young wolf, cregan stark. what many believe to be a union of strife, such a notion is proven wrong very quickly.

anonymous request.

{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anon.

{ WORD COUNT: 6.7K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), arranged marriage, reader is a targtower with pale hair & lilac eyes, skin color unspecified, first time sex (for reader), loss of virginity, p in v sex (unprotected), massive breeding kink, all stark men have a breeding gene, oral sex / cunnilingus (fem!rec), face-sitting, biting/marking, making out, lots of touching, missionary position, talk of having a child, soft ending + aftercare

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: There’s been a ton of Cregan requests, so I hope that this satisfies a lot of people until I post another! ❤️ Thank you all so much for the incredible requests and support of my work, it means the world to me and I am extremely grateful for all of it. See you guys soon!

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 — 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐜𝐞.

The North was often regarded as a harsh and unyielding environment, with bitter, stinging winds and snowfalls that could bury men alive beneath their might. Such tales were often told to scare children or dissuade them from leaving the roost.

It was untamed and savage, according to your mother — she who vehemently fought against your betrothal to Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. A marriage steeped in wariness and discord, you had been pleasantly surprised by your husband’s kindness and warm stoicism.

Piety was a rarity in the bleak, bloodsoaked world you lived within — innocence was a quality as uncommon as a diamond in the rough. When Cregan had been offered such a sacred proposal during the last days of King Viserys I, he nearly scoffed at it.

A Targaryen, a Hightower — he almost imagined that the both of you would not do well together, and that it would become a sour union, made only to please families and uphold duty. His advisors, old men with embittered grudges against the South, cautioned him away from it, imploring him to wed a girl from the Vale or the Reach.

When Cregan Stark met you, clad in pale shades of sage and ivory, with lilac hues and a smile that could melt even the toughest of ice, perhaps it would not be a dreadful marriage after all.

Even with a dragon at your heel, there was something positively resplendent about you — Cregan could feel it within his marrow, a feeling seldom felt by any man locked in an arranged betrothal.

It was your innocuous, tenderhearted nature that beguiled him, as if you unconsciously drew him in with your honey. Your very first meeting happened to be to seal the marriage pact itself before you would be shipped away to the North, to be his wife and the new Lady Stark.

Cregan rarely found himself charmed by anyone, yet you possessed an inner beauty that flourished in his presence. You were your own flame, burning through his hardened exterior. He did not mistake your docile nature for weakness — you possessed a dragon, where he did not.

You were rather taken with him, perplexed by his outward ruggedness and gruff accent, the way in which he carried himself, massive physique clad in the thick trappings of a wolf. He was a mountain of a man, yet he handled you as if you were some precious jewel, sacred and worthy of admiration.

Alicent begrudgingly watched as you, her youngest daughter, untainted by her own fractured morality, was sent away to the North in the hands of some brute. For the good of the Realm, Viserys had told her, but it cut deeper knowing that it was you, her beloved flesh and blood.

Yet, as you found yourself beneath the crimson leaves of the Weirwood Tree in the Godswood, hands bound with Cregan’s own, you forgot about your mother’s bitterness entirely — and you were happy.

The first kiss was one that would make a permanent residence within your memory for lifetimes to come. He had cradled your face, towering over you as if he were a solemn statue, but even you could see the softening within his visage.

King’s Landing was suffocating, more often than not. The animosity that festered between your family smothered you, crushing you beneath its sharp heel. You were no longer surrounded by bitterness and resentment, and instead, cloaked by the protection and warmth of your new husband.

The feast held in honor of your blossoming union was one of merriment, the mood lighthearted and blissful. You sat beside your husband, stomach tumbling with a coil of nerves. Everyone seemed foreign to you, unfamiliar faces with their northern attitudes and odd indifference.

You could not fault anyone for having their suspicions, given your heritage. Being a Targaryen, pale-headed and violet-eyed, bringing your dragon from the South — it must’ve been jarring. Growing into your station as the Lady of Winterfell would be a long and arduous process, but you hoped that Cregan would show you the way.

Oblivious to your Lord-Husband’s smoldering stare, you politely consumed bites of the sugar-dusted fruit cobbler, admiring the vibrant aura within the room. Your wedding gowns were as pure as the driven snow, accented with silver embroidery and lined with pale fleece to keep you warm, given the cold gnaw of winter.

If it weren’t for Cregan’s steadfastness in providing you with a new wardrobe fit for winter, the icy chill would’ve consumed your extremities from the inside-out.

Leaning over within his seat, Cregan reached for your hand, stormy-gray hues churning with a kindness reserved for you. “How are you faring, wife?” He inquired, voice a low rumble; a soothing timbre that sent shivers down your spine.

“Very well,” Warmth crawled along your flesh when he referred to you as wife so openly and affectionately. You weren’t accustomed to having someone be so attentive to you, hang upon your every word, treat you with such courteousness. “This is so wonderful. I must thank you and your Keep, for your kindness.”

If you were anyone else, Cregan might’ve treated you with a stalwart cordiality found in most formalities, but you were not anyone else. You were good, sweet, and kindhearted — above all, you were quite innocent. He would’ve been telling himself a bold lie if he hadn’t thought about taking you to bed several times already.

The colors of the North suited you — his home suited you. Not many men of his position were so lucky when it came to betrothals, but he felt as if he was beyond fortunate to have married you. Cregan only hoped to be a good husband to you and to your future children, heirs to Winterfell, with the blood of the dragon and the wolf in their veins.

He had forbidden a bedding ceremony, content to guide you to your chambers once the festivities ceased, instead. Cregan enjoyed observing you and your demure mannerisms, from the way you made small talk with those around you, complimenting the choice of food and drink. It warmed his heart to know that his wife was an amiable soul.

“You needn’t worry, Princess. It is my duty as your husband to show you a bit of Northern hospitality.” Cregan mused, a ghost of a smile tugging at either corner of his mouth. He rarely showed any emotion, let alone treating his subjects with a smile given his hardiness, but he did show a sliver of it for you. He didn’t want to scare you away.

With a delighted smile, your hand shyly curled around his, your skin unblemished and soft. Cregan hadn’t touched a woman as silky as you, and it made his blood run hot — an inopportune time, given that it was in the midst of his wedding feast. “Thank you, my Lord.” You weren’t sure if you were permitted to abandon formalities just yet.

Cregan huffed, gaze twinkling with amusement as he let your smaller hand hold his own, digits tenderly caressing over your knuckles. “I would hope that you only call me ‘my Lord’ if you’re angry with me,” His chest rumbled with an affectionate sound. “You aren’t in King’s Landing anymore.”

Embarrassment rippled through you, but before you could correct yourself out of anxiousness, Cregan gingerly squeezed your hand. Instead, it evoked a smile from you, the very same tender expression you’d given him when you were proclaimed as his wife. “I will call you husband when I am pleased with you.” You mused, bright as could be, and so blissfully naive.

Often regarded as a brooding, serious man with little traces of humor, Cregan found himself letting his guard down just enough with you. Of course, to any observer, he still seemed rather stoic, but the brief, fleeting looks he gave you, the threadbare smiles — it suggested otherwise.

As the excitable buzz of the feast began to simmer, Cregan stood from the table, wood scraping across the stone floors of the Great Hall. He stepped away from you, sparing the servants and guardsmen a word before he returned to your side.

“Is there not to be a bedding ceremony?” You whispered, stomach still tight and festering with nervousness. It was something you feared since you last saw Aegon and Helaena be hauled away for such a thing. The concept of it frightened you, twisted and unusual.

With furrowed brows, Cregan shook his head, offering his thick arm out for you to take. “No,” He grunted, noticing the swell of anxiousness etched into your features. “I would never subject you to such a thing, or myself.” He murmured, feeling you take his arm as he led you from the Great Hall.

Relief flooded through you, and you finally relaxed, seemingly appreciative of Cregan’s thoughtfulness in the matter. “Thank you, husband.” You sighed, gripping onto his arm as he led you into a warm corridor and towards a massive spiral of thick, stone steps.

Though, you still had a duty to perform — consummating the marriage, creating an heir. Part of you feared what it all entailed, given that Helaena never seemed pleased with any of it. Would he hurt you? You were uncertain, but you wanted to believe that your new husband would keep you safe.

Cregan welcomed you into your marital chambers, tidied and polished for your stay. Whatever belongings you brought with you, they were situated near a set of fine, wooden chairs circled around a stone table. Everything seemed warm and comely in his quarters, the direwolf aesthetic heavy-handed, the hearth crackling and bursting with ripples of fire.

“If there is something not to your liking, inform me — I will have it rearranged,” Cregan rumbled, following in your footsteps as you neared the open hearth, warming your hands and basking in its glow. He stood close to you, towering over you with his bulk and might. “How are you?” He asked, ensuring your comfort above all else.

There was little need for the hearth when Cregan was near, radiating a natural heat that drew you in. His countenance seemed softer, not nearly as impassive as he’d been before. “I am more than fine, I promise.” You assured him, hands wringing together. “I thought that I would miss home, but I do not. Isn’t that terrible?”

Perplexed, Cregan seemed inclined to listen to your elaboration, chestnut tresses framing his face. “It isn’t a terrible thing, princess. I would imagine that it must be freeing, to be somewhere else. You’ve never left the capital.” He replied, knowing that you were quite sheltered for most of your life.

A soft sigh escaped you, and you tried not to think about it anymore. You didn’t want to sour the mood with talk of home and the past — this was now. “It is liberating,” You confessed, craning to look at him with a semblance of wonder and affection. “I am happy that I’m here with you.” You spoke with genuineness and finality.

It was pleasing to hear you say such a thing, and even better to know that you truly meant it. One thick, burly arm slowly encircled your hips, bringing you into the warm expanse of his chest. “Good,” He murmured, expression steely. “That pleases me greatly.”

To know that Cregan valued your happiness was a wonderful feeling — you felt cared for and seen, shrouded within his protectiveness. You imagined that it would be a blissful marriage. “Thank you, Cregan.” His name slipped from your perfect tongue, and he thoroughly enjoyed the sound it made.

A low rumble vibrated through Cregan’s chest as he drew you as close as he could, tracing his calloused digits along the soft curve of your jaw. “You are very beautiful,” He murmured, timbre edged with a delicious husk that made your knees buckle. You shivered, something that he took note of. “Are you cold, wife?”

You nodded, sucking in a sharp breath when his lips neared yours. “I am.” A squeak escaped you, followed by a steady exhale. You had been kissed before, but the extent of your experience abruptly stopped there. You imagined that you wouldn’t be cold for much longer.

His lips met yours, the kiss tender yet passionate, deepened by your husband. Cregan found your mouth to be most pleasant, pliant and perfectly soft, yet malleable. You reciprocated his kiss, hands moving to press against his chest.

“Will it be painful?” You whispered, likely in an attempt to soothe your gnawing nervousness. Agony was something that didn’t coexist with pleasure, in your mind. You wanted this moment to be special and sacred, binding yourself to your husband.

Cregan hesitated, gently cupping your face with his rough palm, tenderly stroking along your cheek. “I wouldn’t dare harm you, princess. You have my word.” He assured, and it confirmed his suspicions — you hadn’t been with another before. “It might be painful, but I will be gentle. We don’t have to start tonight.”

Admittedly, it was quite the opposite for you — you wanted to start tonight, but you longed for clarification first, and he gave it to you. You shook your head, hands slipping toward the front of his tunic, as if silently pleading with him to stay. “I want to.” You insisted, looking like the picture of innocence.

As much as he liked you sweet and pious, Cregan had a feeling that it would be somewhat different after this. His gray hues swirled with a heavy desire, dropping towards the delicate curve of your mouth. “May I?” It was all that he needed to ask, and as soon as you nodded, he brought you in for a heated kiss.

Despite his appearance, a stone-faced wall of muscle and Northern strength, he was incredibly gentle with you. He held you against him, never tight enough to cause you discomfort, hands softly kneading into your hips. You kissed him back as best as you could, feverishly hot, butterflies erupting within your stomach.

His beautiful wife — Cregan could not imagine another, now that he had you in his arms. The way you kissed him was innocuous and tender, as if you were also terrified of making a mistake. Your purity, a precious thing indeed, would be tarnished and dissolved after this evening.

The thought of you, round and swollen with his child, was both tantalizing and tempting — well within his grasp. Cregan wondered if they would take after you, pale-headed with lilac hues, or perhaps himself. If the Gods were good, they would be a blend of the both of you, a dragon and a wolf.

You shivered again when your burly husband curled his hand into the back of your wedding gown, fingers slipping between the gaps, feeling inklings of your bare skin beneath. “I’ll keep you warm, wife.” He rumbled, pressing a kiss against your jaw. It wasn’t from the cold, he knew this, but his honeyed words made you flustered.

He dropped his cloak, allowing the thick curtain of fur to land against the floor. He was impossibly broad, as thick as stone, tunic loose yet snug enough to accentuate his brawn. You felt your breath hitch within your throat, swallowing another barrage of nerves.

Cregan’s mouth assailed your neck, hand peeling away the collar of pale fur in order to reach you. Every kiss was passionate, wrought with need, yet maintained that air of gentleness. Roughness was in his nature, but he wouldn’t dare fall into that pit on your wedding night.

You tasted ambrosial, sweet velvet beneath his lips, which peppered themselves wherever they could. He listened to your soft gasps and needy whines, your hands having curled into the coarse material of his tunic. He wanted to show you just how perfect you really were.

Suddenly, your gown felt much too tight and constricting, as if you would drown within it. You alleviated such sensations by loosening the bodice, tugging on the ivory strings. The fur became unraveled as Cregan gently draped the garment over the back of a chair.

Left in the thin, humble trappings of your smallclothes, nothing more than a corset hugging a linen slip, he silently appraised you with the hunger of a wolf. You appeared to be shy, somewhat coy in his presence as he looked you over, large palms settling against the swell of your hips.

“Why do you shy away?” Cregan murmured, chestnut brows furrowing together, tone one of genuine concern. You were the prettiest creature he’d ever seen — most Targaryens were known for their beauty, but you possessed it both ways, inner and outer, and that only made you more incomparable in his eyes.

Swallowing your nerves, you chewed at the inside of your cheek, hands fidgeting together. “I suppose I worry about what you’ll think,” A sore insecurity, to be sure, but something most young maidens possessed. Cregan’s gray hues softened, one hand stroking along the length of your spine. “That I won’t be suitable.”

A huff escaped him, a threadbare chuckle as he shook his head, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “You worry too much, princess.” That deep, thunderous timbre of his, husky with his Northern accent, shook you right to your core. “You are my wife — and you are perfect.” He assured, kissing along your jaw.

You exhaled, hands reaching for his tunic, wanting to see him without his clothing. There was a rush of warmth that crawled across your flesh, surging through your blood as Cregan pressed endless kisses against your skin. He trailed from jaw to collarbone, hands loosening your corset.

With a brusque tug, your gruff husband tore it from you altogether, tossing the bodice aside. “I will show you how perfect you are.” He rumbled, voice a low, heavy caress near the shell of your ear. You shivered, gaze half-lidded as you tugged insistently at his tunic.

The message was unspoken, but conveyed nonetheless as your mountain of a husband let his hands drop from you, only to tug the coarse, dark linen over his head. He was burly, broad-shouldered and thick with muscle, wisps of chestnut tresses framing his face.

Amusingly enough, Cregan possessed more of a cherubic, youthful face than you expected, yet his nose was slightly crooked from having it broken, faint scars upon his face. His eyes seemed wisened, old beyond his years. He reached for your slip, gathering the material within his hands as he looked to you for consent.

With your confidence rejuvenated, you nodded, breathless and wanton as you assisted him in maneuvering out of your thin smallclothes. The brief lick of chilled air dragged across your bare flesh, causing your nipples to harden, pebbling with the chill.

Fire danced across your physique, tantalizing and gorgeous, beautiful beyond compare. Even Cregan seemed speechless for a beat, throat reverberating with a low grunt as he motioned toward your shared bed.

You half-expected him to pounce on you, grab your hips and stake his claim, but he simply resorted to watching you slide onto the bed, covered in furs of all varieties. The frame rustled slightly, and you laid down, a picture of true perfection. Your crown of pale tresses seemed to stick out amidst the darker pallor of the furs.

Anticipation churned violently within your gut, arousal slick and mounting between your thighs as Cregan stalked closer, removing clothing in the process. You watched with bated breath as he loosened the ties of his breeches, removing them altogether.

It was to be expected — a man of his indomitable stature likely had the assets to accompany it. You nearly choked at the sight of him, terrified that it really would hurt, even if he was gentle. You sucked in a sharp breath, bewildered when he had reclined beside you instead.

“I won’t bite, my Lady.” Cregan rumbled, soothingly patting his lap as you crawled closer. He effortlessly picked you up, letting you straddle his hips as he admired you from below. “Hm.” With a hum of approval, he caressed along your form, stroking from your thigh to your breasts.

It was agonizingly deliberate, made to explore and study instead of acting upon salacious impulses. Cregan observed you closely, palm gently cupping your breast, thumb swiping over your nipple. You gasped, careening into his sensual embrace.

A flurry of desire bubbled within him when you planted your smaller hand atop his, as if encouraging him to knead and grope at his leisure. He seemed pleased, and so did you, a low hum escaping you as he caressed your silky flesh.

He made sure to show that same amount of attention to your unattended breast, slowly kneading into you. Those tempestuous gray hues never tore themselves away from you, boring into you with a searing intensity.

Warm slick coalesced between your thighs, only mounting and growing when he continued to touch you, hand lifting to cup your chin. You absentmindedly leaned into his touch, eyes becoming half-lidded as you rocked forward within his lap.

The sensations you felt were new and exhilarating, goosebumps dancing across your spine, heat pooling between your legs. “May I touch you?” You asked, tone delicate and sweet, a display of your piety and innocence. He quite enjoyed your desire to explore alongside him, and he gave a nod of his head.

“You don’t need to ask, princess.” He soothed, jaw tensing as your soft palms settled against his chest. Cregan’s stormy eyes didn’t leave you, carefully tracing each plane of your curves, the downy texture of your skin, the lilac glint of your eyes.

Your fingertips dragged across his musculature, committing each scar to memory, features becoming hot beneath his incendiary stare. He was your husband now — you imagined that scenarios like these would become commonplace. “You are so handsome,” You whispered incredulously, lips curling into a gentle smile. “Perfect.”

Cregan appeared perplexed, a soft huff escaping him as he trailed his calloused palm across the small of your back. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had called him perfect and meant it — and he knew that you did. He neglected to act, allowing you to explore as much as you pleased.

Awestruck, he watched with silent hunger as you leaned down, lips pressing against his own. A soft grunt escaped Cregan as he caged you in, mouth passionate as it tangled with yours. He enjoyed the feeling of your body snug atop his, your skin resplendent, like velvet against the grating bite of stone.

Dragging a hand from the swell of your hips to the nape of your neck, he gripped the base of your skull, gingerly kneading into your pale tresses. He kissed you again, oozing with desire as he stole every wisp of air from your lungs.

He pulled one leg up into a v-shape, supporting your back to keep you upright atop his lap. You could feel the thick girth of his cock nudge against your backside, causing you to shiver at the foreign sensation. “Do you trust me?” Cregan murmured, roughened fingertips dragging over the pliant flesh of your thigh.

There was an indiscernible look within his eyes, chestnut brows drawing together slightly. Your breath hitched as you nodded, and Cregan settled against the furs, strewn on his back. Those strong hands of his continued to nudge you forward, bringing you from his warm lap to his chest, and then a touch closer.

“What are you …” Uncertain yet filled with exhilaration, you had no idea what Cregan was planning. Your slick cunt neared his mouth, and your Northern paramour did little to slow the process, bumping you forward until you hovered above him. “C—Cregan, C —” Your voice tapered off into a whine.

His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, a sensation that immediately made your knees buckle. You used the headboard to brace yourself, mouth tearing open as a strangled gasp escaped you. Part of you feared sitting down entirely, but Cregan coaxed you down, hands digging into your haunches.

Your reaction was beyond worthwhile, body trembling and coiled, hand scrambling to brace yourself as the other fervently dug into his chestnut tresses. You never imagined that such pleasure was even possible, filling you with an excitable ecstasy that sank into your bones.

Splitting past your folds, Cregan tasted every inch of you, tongue seeking your cunt with a fervor. He was vigorous in his ministrations, not shying away from consuming every drop of your arousal. His nose brushed against your mound, hands kneading into your thighs to reassure you, let you know that he had you.

Even when he rested beneath you, he still seemed indomitable, perhaps a touch intimidating. You didn’t look down, body involuntarily trembling and rocking forward, back beginning to arch. “Gods, a—ah!” You stammered, thighs twitching and quivering as his tongue gently flicked over your clit.

Visibly flustered, you felt so strange and smitten, riding your husband’s face as you would your dragon. It filled your belly with a rousing fire, one bright enough to consume the rest of your body, licking along the length of your spine.

A low rumble emerged from Cregan’s chest, a vibration that rattled you to your core. He wanted you to have your fill, take as much as you could and drown within pleasure. Your maidenhead was still intact, a virtue that he did not treat lightly. He didn’t feel the need to breathe, lapping at your cunt with a wolfish gluttony.

You were undeniably soaked, like a fine stout upon his tongue as he devoured you. Cregan was passionate, each stroke of his tongue ensuring that you felt it all, bliss erupting throughout your stomach.

Chasing after what you imagined to be your release, you happened to peer down for a moment, finding the contented face of your husband, whose face was lodged between your legs. His brows were creased in concentration, tongue prodding against your entrance before languidly flicking back to your clit.

It was only when he pursed his lips around that sensitive clutch of nerves, that you nearly collapsed around him. Even your draconic blood could melt, tempered by the hardened ice of your Northern paramour. You gasped, hips stuttering as your thighs squeezed at either side of his head — fortunately, he didn’t seem to care.

The only thing you wanted was this, forever — your husband’s tongue between your legs, a sanctuary in the North with a potential family, a life in which you could finally find your solace. You continued to squirm and writhe, moaning his praises into the warmth of your chambers.

As you approached your peak, you grappled with Cregan’s tresses, tugging at the root as you rocked forward, again and again. “Cregan,” You moaned, countenance contorting into a look of sheer pleasure, bones crawling with an insatiable heat. “Cregan, Cregan, please!” It was a siren’s song of desire.

He did not stop, but he didn’t change course, either. Instead, he simply continued on, suckling at your clit as he intermingled it with timed laps of his tongue. Your release slammed into you, white-hot and blistering, gnawing away at your stomach as that coil of heat effectively snapped.

A whine emerged from you, one that was nearly breathless as you rocked forward again, legs shaking from ecstasy as you rode out your peak. Cregan, ever the dutiful husband, lapped at your nectar, savoring the taste, the scent of a pleasurable aftermath.

“What —” You had to catch your breath again, attempting to recuperate as you sat back on his chest instead, thick, burly muscle plentiful enough to cushion you. “Where did you learn how to do that?” It was an innocuous question, one so sweetly-spoken that it nearly caused Cregan to chuckle.

He did, however, smile — a rare, sentimental gesture reserved only for you. It was threadbare, and if it weren’t for the nature of your relationship, one might’ve thought him to be rugged and indifferent. “You need only ask, princess, and I will oblige.” His voice was a deep rumble that warmed your insides.

You thoroughly enjoyed the nickname of princess — a term of endearment given your status, but you were a princess no longer. “I am a lady of the North now, aren’t I? A princess no longer,” You proclaimed, skin shimmering with perspiration. “What will you call me, now?” You asked.

“Hm,” Cregan contemplated, pressing a kiss against your leg before he sat up enough to have a good look at you, chin still glistening with your slick. The sight was lewd, enough to make you unbelievably flustered as he grew closer, nearly chest-to-chest with you. “Lady Stark would suffice.” He murmured.

Something amorous burned within you, a smolder that soon turned to ignited sparks. “It would please me greatly.” You hummed, running your hands over his biceps before Cregan gently changed places with you, moving you beneath his bulk, comfortable upon your back.

Soft was a mere understatement — he could feel himself melt. It was not your dragon’s blood or heat that made him crumble, but your heart. He could imagine you as the mother of his children, belly round with his heirs, the Lady of Winterfell, a Hightower no longer.

He settled between your legs, and you gasped when his cock gently glided against your slick core. Cregan knew to temper himself, to be as gentle as he could with it being your wedding night, but his resolve was steadily diminished in your presence. He steeled himself, pressing a string of kisses along your body.

Without thinking, you unconsciously goaded Cregan into a point of near-frenzy. Your hands found the taut, trunk-like muscle of his biceps, visage filled with a sense of awe and adoration. “A child would please me greatly.” You confessed, having no clue what it would do to your husband.

Cregan stopped, digits curling into the thick furs on either side of your head. It took every fiber of his being not to fuck you then and there — and he wouldn’t, it wasn’t right for him to take your maidenhead with such roughness. His fantasy became reality, a visceral, beautiful vision that made him grunt, jaw unnaturally tense.

His rough palm soothingly stroked along your thigh, lust swelling within him like a blizzard, a violent storm of need that transcended all bonds of propriety. “Does Lady Stark want me to put a pup in her belly?” Cregan rumbled, tempestuous hues ignited with a fire that demanded to be extinguished, sending shockwaves right to your core.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, shuddering at the sound of his voice — an edged husk, like the rumbling of thunder before a deluge or the shaking of a mountain. “Yes,” You exhaled, searching his countenance, only to find desire. “I would.”

The Gods were testing him, aiming to see if he would break beneath the pressure, but he refused. Cregan lowered himself over you, lips molding themselves against yours in a hot kiss. Your hands remained poised atop his biceps, barely able to wrap themselves around the thick, corded muscle.

He wasn’t much of a talker, and it quickly dwindled into deep grunts and heavier sighs as he aligned his cock with your entrance. He made sure to part your legs, keeping them spread as he began to push inside of you. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, startled at the twinge of pain, the discomfort of it all.

Cregan despised the mere thought of causing you harm, and even he was willing to end it all then and there. “We don’t have to continue, beloved.” He rumbled, pressing a soothing string of kisses along your face. The endearing nickname made you preen, nails digging into his arms.

“No, I — I’m well enough,” You breathed, insistent on continuing. Cregan deliberated, but when you let out a low whine, he obeyed your command. “Gods, I need you, Cregan.” Pitched with a wanton resonance, you urged him to keep going.

Your neediness made his blood run hot, and he nodded, sluggishly resuming his pace. He continued to tilt his hips forward, cock feeding into you, inch by agonizing inch. Cregan felt the desperate bite of your nails clutching into muscle, leaving behind angry crescents.

You were never fully warned of the pain, the discomfort that accompanied pleasure. It was always sold as some fantasy, particularly for men — nights of heavenly passion resulting in bliss. For you, it was simply a marital duty to provide your husband with an heir, but this transcended that. Passion and affection sparked between the both of you, and it felt right.

As Cregan finally bottomed out inside of you, he allowed you time to fully adjust, rocking into you at a lackadaisical pace. He continued to shower you in kisses, wherever his lips could reach, giving particular affection to the crook of your neck.

Whatever discontent you felt, you hastily pushed it aside, tossing it into the recesses of your mind. Instead, you focused on him — on how incredible he made you feel, the warmth you experienced in his presence. One of your hands slipped to thread within his chestnut tresses, mouth agape.

You took him so well — better than expected, and it filled him with a sense of pride and ardor. Cregan pressed hungry kisses along your throat, nose buried into the hollow of it, right beneath your jugular. He continued to go slow, afraid of causing you further pain.

Cregan repositioned his hand, leaving one lodged beside your head, the other sinking into your haunch, digits tenderly kneading into your thigh. It was an offer of reassurance, and he watched your countenance shift from discontented to relaxed.

“Move,” The sharpness of your command brought him to heel, and he very nearly smiled — it was there, the ghost of it toying at his lips. Bringing his hips back and then forward, you moaned, knowing that the sting of pain would soon blossom into pleasure. “Please.”

Molten heat swirled within the pit of your stomach, arousal thick between your legs as Cregan began to find his pace, a rhythm that shook you to your core. He was so very gentle, even for a man of his herculean mass and muscle. He took care of you, soothingly caressing your thigh as he thrusted into you.

His cock filled you completely, a stretch that would take you more than just one night to adjust to. Your maidenhead was gone, your cunt tight around his length, pulling him in again and again.

Cregan’s breathing became heavier, somewhat labored as he consummated your union. Each snap of his hips held meaning, beyond the creation of an heir. It was tenuous with feelings, a burning sentiment he felt for you, ardor that had grown into a fire.

Admittedly, his mind was hazy, fueled by desire and the mere thought of you wanting a child — you had asked it of him, demanded, and he was at your mercy. Cregan couldn’t have gotten any luckier with you, the most resplendent woman he’d ever seen.

Imagining you full and round, still as lovely as the day he set his eyes upon you, a mother and a dragon — it was nothing short of true perfection. He chased after it, evident by the growing vigor and passion in each thrust of his hips, cock nearly tearing you into two.

No matter how gentle and careful Cregan was with you, it was to no avail, but you no longer cared. “Cregan,” You moaned, lifting one leg to hitch it around his waist, and that only seemed to further spur him on, allowing him to hit new depths. His throbbing length nearly kissed your womb, filling you to the brim. “Cregan!” You cried.

For a moment, you feared being split in-half by your mountain of a husband, but he slowed enough to let you recuperate, throat reverberating with carnal grunts. The rumbling of his chest, the heat that radiated from him in waves — it was all perfect.

It was driving him mad, the way your cunt constricted around his cock, the way in which your back arched from the furs, chest brushing against his. Cregan grunted, jaw set and brows furrowed in concentration as he kneaded into your thigh, something to alleviate his tension.

His thrusts deepened, became passionate and invigorated with love, and each snap of his hips made your head spin with delirium. You were drunk on desire, clinging to him as if you were a drowning maiden, hand splayed against his shoulder.

Whenever he happened to become a touch too vigorous, he felt your nails dig deep into his flesh, leaving behind the reddened marks of your consummation. Cregan was getting close, chest erupting with labored pants as he pressed his forehead against yours.

You moaned, body bending beneath his passion, malleable within his hands. His cock throbbed within you as he sought to spill his seed, face against yours, lips occasionally connecting in a series of sloppy, warm kisses. Everything felt incredible, in ways that you couldn’t comprehend.

He was so burly, a thick wall of impenetrable muscle that seemed to envelop you entirely, shield you from everything else, from all harm. Strands of chestnut stuck to his temples, flesh glittering with perspiration from the exertion of lovemaking, coupled with the heat in your chambers.

With another brusque thrust of his hips, he settled inside of you, reaching his peak with a subtle groan. His seed filled your cunt in hot ropes, more than enough to take, if the Gods were good. Cregan exhaled, feverishly hot as he began to recuperate, neglecting to remove himself from you for a few moments.

“Are you alright?” Cregan murmured, ensuring your wellbeing first, above all else. A stinging soreness settled into your thighs and your core, but you would survive. He didn’t completely obliterate you, thankfully — you wondered what he would be like, unrestrained.

“Yes,” You smiled, visibly flustered beneath the intensity of his stare. “That was incredible.” Your confession made him huff, likely one of amusement as he pressed a kiss against your forehead. Even you glittered with sweat, but that was to be expected.

You already wanted more — and you nearly asked it of him.

Lascivious fantasies took root within your mind, and the mere idea of him being rough and completely domineering made your cunt throb. You could not do it now, given how exhausted you were, but he had certainly unlocked a new side to you, a side that you were unfamiliar with.

Cregan pulled himself from you, propping your hips up beneath a feathered pillow to ensure that his seed would take. He rested beside you, drawing you into the bulk of his muscled arms, allowing you to rest your head against the expanse of his chest. “You were perfect.” He rumbled, roughened digits stroking along your spine.

It pleased you to know that your husband was satisfied with you, much to your delight. “I am glad,” Relief rippled through you as you inched closer, perfectly slotted against his frame. “So were you.” Your pleasant accolades made him smile, fracturing his stony exterior.

“There will be plenty of time for this, that I can promise you,” Cregan was more concerned with getting to know you, his beautiful lady-wife, Lady Stark. “I would like to start with you.” He murmured, savoring the sensation of your fingers tracing across his abdomen.

You blinked, seemingly surprised by Cregan’s genuine interest in you. It made you happy — perhaps you could have both. Moments of learning and moments like these, where you could indulge in pleasure.

“Would it offend you if I asked you to do both?” You questioned, warmth crawling along your body as Cregan squeezed the swell of your hip, gray hues sparkling with a semblance of mirth.

“It wouldn’t,” Cregan mused, timbre dropping to a lull, a husky octave that seemed to envelop you in its stoicism and warmth. “It pleases me to know that Lady Stark possesses the appetite of a dragon.” His teasing made you squirm, but he simply caressed you and held you closer.

With a coy smile, you lifted your head, pressing your lips against his, asserting your still-lingering desire for your husband. “Not a dragon,” Your tone softened with a sweeter resonance. “A wolf.”

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not steal my work and claim it as your own or translate it onto other platforms.

[serawritesthings]

hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡

While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.

Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in. 

The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man. 

You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth. 

“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body. 

“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.

“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger. 

Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.

“Do you think he…” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject. 

“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.

As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.

“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.

“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.

You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.

“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.

You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.” 

Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.

“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll. 

Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door. 

He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur. 

You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose. 

“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look. 

“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure. 

–

Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach. 

“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn. 

He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn’t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.

He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.

“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.

“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.

“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”

As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West. 

Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.

Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.

Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.

What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.

“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.

“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.

“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”

“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”

He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.

“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours. 

“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing. 

“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff. 

“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.

Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height. 

“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much. 

It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.

You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you–but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.

“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.

“Cold?” 

“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.

“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work. 

Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.

“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.

“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.

“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”

“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”

He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words. 

“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled. 

It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good…”

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.

Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.

It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.

“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.” 

“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.

“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.

“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”

“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving. 

Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.

You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.

His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.

“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.

“Yes, kind.”

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.

“Sure.”

–

It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway. 

It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.

Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.

Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite. 

If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.

And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby. 

Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.

He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.

It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.

Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.

“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.

“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.

Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.

Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people. 

Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.

“Arthur…” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.

You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears. 

As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.

How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.

How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable. 

“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.

“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes. 

You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls. 

“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.

“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”

“No, I-” 

“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”

His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did. 

“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”

You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.

“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.

“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture. 

You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.

Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes. 

He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being. 

So good, so… soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.

“Hey, I uh…” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.

He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.

“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle. 

“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”

A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”

As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.

“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him. 

Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips. 

Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.

“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something. 

Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.

And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.

“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.

Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Arthur…” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.

And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.

It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground. 

“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm. 

“No…” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.

It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.

You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch. 

It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.

“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.” 

You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.

You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking. 

“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.

“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.

You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck. 

Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.

Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own. 

He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.

And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him. 

But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh. 

His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.

It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.

The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers. 

“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night. 

Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.

“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval. 

You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.

He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.

A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions. 

For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.

And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.

“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.

“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.

Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.

“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.” 

He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him. 

While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck. 

You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.

Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else. 

You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you. 

God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.

“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.

“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control. 

Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.

He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.

Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements. 

Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.

“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.

He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.

Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before. 

Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.

Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.

“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.

“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”

“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.

They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.

“No…” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.

“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.

“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.

“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.

“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face. 

The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.

You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.

Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly. 

Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you. 

“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.

The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.

As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.

“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come. 

“Are you jealous of Charles?” 

If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.

If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled. 

“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs. 

“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.” 

Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him. 

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

[jarofstyles]

‘Tis The Season

Hello my ducklings! I have pure filth for you, and it’s been so long since I’ve given you guys any Wolfrry so I figure you’d enjoy some after a little drought!

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Warnings- breeding, knotting, use of the word 'bitch', degrading, unprotected sex, wolfrry, its an au so the world is diff, etc

WC- 2k

------

The beginning of spring was always a magical time in the pack.

The snow melted and little flowers began to sprout. The sunshine warmed them up, the crisp air and emerging leaves sent a new layer of hope into the coming year. It was the true new year for them, something that put a spring in their step and warmth in their hearts, defrosting them from winter

Y/N sat in Harry’s office, next to the tall alpha as he looked over her plans for the pack gardens. “I think that’s a good idea, but I’d move the peas over to the side.” She mused, letting her body melt as the man’s arms wrapped firmly around her body. As much as she knew she needed to pull away in order to finish these plans… it was the season, wasn’t it? “H… We really need to finish the plots.” Her breathy voice echoed in his office as his hands lifted her dress up and his teeth grazed her mating mark. She shuddered, sagging in his arms- the man was playing dirty, but that was the one spot that would make anyone melt. Having your mate brush it, lick it, press it? It felt like the aftershocks of an orgasm. “Y-You’re not playing fair.”

“No, I’m not.” He hummed. “Because you’re mine, and I don’t have to. You can play hard to get all you want, little mate, but I’ve been able to smell that sweet cunt since you’ve left our bedroom this morning.” The accusation made her want to fight- but there was no ground to stand on. She had been helplessly horny all morning. It was the beginning of the mating season, the breeding season, and she was panting for it. Of course she was trying her best to be a good leader, to get on top of plans, but was it so wrong for her to want to look at her strong, handsome, powerful mate? To see his green eyes darken when he caught her scent, to have him corner her and have his way with her because that's what she dreamt about? It was just in their nature.

“S-So what?” There was one last stitch effort to pretend she wanted to work on the plans. “I’m always wet for you.” It was the truth. It was hard not to be when the man had proved time and time again he was the most incredible lover to exist, that he knew her body like the back of his hand.

“I know that. All I’ve got t’do is walk into a room and you’ll roll on your knees and present that perfect cunt for me to fuck.” He chuckled, making her whine. She always got worked up when he talked to her like that. “That’s why it’s so fuckin’ funny t’me that you’re trying to continue this charade. Acting like the point of being in here is for that blueprint when in reality, all you want is for your mate to bend you over this desk and knot you up.” He was quick about it, following his words as he roughly bent her over. Her tits crinkled the papers they’d just been working on as she let out a gasp, her dress being flipped up and a rough palm slapped the curve of her ass.

“Look at you. My sweet little bitch, came all prepared for my cock.” He crooned, using his foot to knock her legs open. She was obedient, deciding not to even feign a fight because this was exactly what she wanted. “Should spank this ass raw for running about the den with no panties on and your silky cunt bare for anyone to see, but we both know all of them have no mistake on who you belong to.” He’d taken her so many times where people could see, let them watch as he plowed her into a whimpery, sobbing mess. It was no secret that their Alpha was the one who owned Y/N.

“M’sorry, Alpha.” She bleated, cheek pressed against the wood as she heard the distinct clink of a belt buckle and the pull of leather through the loops on his pants. It sent a wave of excitement through her, knowing damn well she was in for it. She’d poked the beast, literally and metaphorically, and now she was going to suffer- or enjoy- the consequences.

“I don’t really think you are, my love.” He murmured. “I think that you’ve been gagging for my cock and I didn’t fuck you hard enough this morning. Was nice and soft with you, showered you off and everything. Let you go about your day… But I didn’t fuck you hard like you beg for. Silly me, making love to my mate, my wife, during the breeding season.” His tongue clicked as she heard his pants fall down to his ankles. “I should’ve known that my pretty bitch needed to be bred properly. Needed to be fucked until your knees were weak. You’ve always been a bit of a whore for it, haven’t you my Goddess?” Y/N couldn’t think of anything other than his cock that had begun to rub through her embarrassingly wet folds, a soft keen leaving her mouth.

Harry was right. She was desperate and hot, needy for him in all the ways he’d just described. Y/N couldn’t deny that she really did need to be fucked stupid during this time of year. Don’t get her wrong- she adored when he was so soft and sweet with her, whispering about how perfect and beautiful she was. But when this time of year came around, she wanted to be used. To be filled and fucked and see his most primal part come out. It was only natural.

“Please, I want it.” Her pathetic simper came out as she wriggled her hips, trying to taunt him. She knew damn well that he would give it to her but she was going to play into it even more.

“I know you do. Could’ve just told me you needed a good fuck, but you like to play games instead.” He wouldn’t admit that he liked those games just as much. The sharp slap on her other ass cheek resounded around the room as he got her to stop teasing him with her ass shaking, notching the tip of his prick in her hole. “Since you want t’be a whore, I’ll give it to you like one.”

Her breath was stolen as he entered her in one go. The sting of the stretch made her yelp but her toes curled as she was finally full, his heavy hand pressing her down between her shoulder blades. Keeping her pinned there and pulling out just to repeat the action, she moaned loudly at his rough treatment of her. This was what she needed. A dirty, quick, hard fuck. “Yesssss…” She elongated the word only to be cut off by a wet gasp, his hips thrusting into her again. “Give it to me, please. Please, Alpha.”

“Now she’s begging.” He laughed,a  cruel undertone to his words. “Pretty slut is begging for my cock like she should have done to begin with. I know you need it, but I forget every year just how much of a desperate, wet cunt you’ve got.” His pace started to steady, rocking her on the desk while she whimpered at each press inside of her. Her body was quite literally made for this, made for the stretching and filling and being knotted but Harry’s cock was fucking big. The biggest she’d ever seen, and people sure as hell weren’t shy about nudity around here.

“Now you can’t even talk. Finally got a prick stretching you open and that smart little mouth can’t form words. What about those plans, huh?” His snicker was followed by a harsh thrust. “Silly girl. Should’ve just gotten on your knees and begged.”

Harry loved this season. Loved how Y/N became a little minx, slinking around and trying to figure out how to get him to pounce on her. Like he wouldn’t drop everything to give it to her if she just asked. It was entertaining to make her do the work for it, like a little game. As much as he said he didn’t like them, he liked feeling her desire, knowing she was a little shy even still about asking him for sex- except when she was in heat.

“M’sorry, I just-” She whined as his cock began to fuck into her a bit faster. “I just want you all the time. I can’t help it.” If she had it her way, they wouldn’t leave the bedroom. The scents were crazy right now, everyone throwing them around to attract each other if they weren’t mated. All she wanted was his scent smeared all over her, she wanted it coating her body and there to be no question, even if they had visitors.

“I know you do. My beautiful cockslut. I love that you want it so badly. I’ll give it to you…” His words melted into her being as she felt a thumb brush against her ass, gently pressing in- and she was gone. He knew her weaknesses and this was one of the biggest.

Y/N’s brain could only focus on the pleasure. His hands on her and his growling, her cheek being pressed into the wood as she panted. She’d probably have bruises on her hip bones but she’d wear them with pride. It felt like she was just a hole to fuck and that’s how she wanted it. Letting him use her and reaping the benefits of his primal instincts raising up with his pretty mate splayed out for him. She lost count of the moans she let out as her nails sharpened, scratching the side of the desk as she began to feel his knot.

“Please Alpha, Please, please, please, I want it.” Her pathetic mewls only seemed to spur him on. “I want your knot, I want your cum, please give it to me. Give it to me, give it… I’ll be your good girl, I’ll be your bitch, please-” Y/N sobbed into the wood as he pounded her into her end. She squirted, releasing a gush of wetness over his thighs and trickling down her own as her thighs shook, a high pitched sound leaving her mouth as she felt him give one sharp thrust to be filled with his knot.

She felt it expand, her whimpery mess of a face being pulled up slightly as he folded his body on top of her, grinding inside of her cunt to continue her orgasm and work his cum inside of her. “There you go, goddess. Perfect little breeding bitch, s’what you are. Made to take my knot, my cum, my children.” He growled, babbling as his teeth grazed her mark and made her shudder. His eyes flashed before he closed them, grabbing her hair in his fist and angling her mouth so he could kiss her with the grumbles in his chest calming to a purr as he was stuck with her. Her orgasm had splashed all over the both of them, his balls and thighs wet and her poor cunt stretched and full. Her ass would need a salve from his spanking, but that’s how he knew it was good. She’d been flaunting herself around his office for a reason, and now they were both sated… for a while, anyways.

“I love you.” She slurred, bleary eyes looking up at him. “Love you Alpha.” Her sweet words softened his heart, a fond smile tilting up the corners of his lips. No matter how rough he went on her during sex, this woman was his soul mate. His goddess. No one could ever comprehend how much he loved her.

“I love you more than the moon and the stars.” He whispered, nudging his nose against hers sweetly. “My sweet Goddess. You own me.”

[mianexil]

◇ Things that make his heart melt ◇

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

⭕️ Warning: Spoilers ⭕️

💫 [ It wasn't in my plans before, but I really want to comfort these boys ]

💫 [ Cuties, I see your requests and don't forget about them. I'm going through a little stressful period right now, so it may take a little longer than I wanted, but I'm already working on it ]

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

ㅡ Suo, Sakura, Umemiya

Suo

Sincere care for him

Everyone knows that Suo is strong in every sense. He is also smart, restrained, independent and confident.

It is not uncommon for people to admit such thoughts in his direction as 《 He is strong/smart/hardy, he will cope 》, waving away unnecessary worries.

But not you. You've never neglected it and it came from the heart. You knew that Suo was far from weak and admitted it, but it never affected the level of your concern for him. Yes, he is, but this does not mean that you can take less care of him, referring to the fact that he can do it himself.

Strong people can take care of the difficulties outside and also take care of themselves. But if they can, it doesn't mean that it's easy for them.

You always paid attention to his comfort in one situation or another, did some small and inconspicuous things that actually made a big difference.

Starting from the way you imperceptibly put a cooling compress in his furin jacket pocket before patrolling on a hot day or a a small pocket warmer in winter, and ending with silent hugs at the right moment to maintain peace in his soul.

It wasn't just a superficial concern, it was about his feelings.

At first, he somehow automatically shielded himself from it, it was his defense mechanism. He didn't want to admit that he needed it in any way, he didn't want you to think that he had at least some weaknesses to know the truth.

However, time and your perseverance have done their job. Over time, Suo began to accept your truly deep concern, letting it into his heart and passing through it.

And believe me, it made his heart blossom.

Sakura

Listening and hearing

Sakura, as a person who has spent his whole life alone, is not used to conducting dialogues and generally having any long-term relationships with people.

That's why, when he first caught himself telling you about some hobby of his with a desire, and at that time you were really listening attentively to him, he felt this terribly strong and strange feeling in his chest.

Of course, at the same moment he fell into a stupor, and then he got angry because he was confused. You still don't understand why he abruptly stopped talking, flushed red in annoyance, and then abruptly said goodbye and ran away.

Poor boy, for him, these feelings seem especially strong. Because it was the first time for him.

You knew it was very difficult for Sakura to open up to people. That's why, when he started sharing his thoughts with you or telling you something, you immediately put all the worries in your head aside and focused on Sakura.

You wanted him to feel heard so that he would understand that you want to hear and listen to him

And it was at such moments that the young man's heart seemed to melt like ice under the warm rays of the spring sun.

God, you really make this boy happy.

Umemiya

Special intimate moments between you

When you are alone, he's lying on your lap, and you're stroking his head.

It is this moment that permeates Hajime's heart and soul with sparkling threads that touch his most sensitive and vulnerable points.

At this moment, he feels as if he is transported back to childhood, when he was still a carefree, happy, beloved little boy, surrounded by family love and a sense of childish lightness.

Once he had lost this happiness, these incredible sensations, but now he had found them again. In a different form, but the same happiness.

He is lying on your lap, and your fingers are tangled in his white hair while you stroke him and at this moment Umemiya feels this warmth again, he is sincerely loved again, he is again childishly carefree and happy, he is home again.

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

[fqiryspit]

FOOTBALL PLAYER EREN HEADCANONS

eren x fem!reader

cw: eren is head over heels for you, crazy fangirls, death threats, eren fucking you, you sucking him, etc etc

you've been in a relationship with eren before his hair was that long and when he stumbled nervously over everything.

he still looks back and cringes, wondering why you wanted to date him

you two have been lifelong friends and once you started your relationship things really were perfect.

eren's football career really took off in college, and he got a lot more attention from the girls on campus rather than old men.

soon he and his team were absolutely famous and you were so excited for him -and incredibly grateful your relationship was swiped under the rug during that time. he had millions of fan girls posting fics and edits of him daily, it was insane.

you asked him to not speak on your relationship -because he got those questions a lot so he just responds with a simple "I'm happy" when they get asked

he wants to -so badly- show you off. to laugh at all his annoying fan girls and bring you out, but, he respects your decision.

after his games, he is absolutely wrecked. he flops down onto the bed and you climb on top of him and start massaging his scalp and he just moans into the sheets

"did you have fun?"

"how was I supposed to have fun when you weren't there?" he says, needy as ever

"errreeen I'm not gonna be able to go that far for every game" you huff

.

and this man loves to spoil you. designer bags out of the blue, wait, did you just eye that coat? no worries, he's just gonna purchase that really quickly.

eren truly truly loves you, he knows he is gonna marry you, it's just a fact.

he melts when he is with you, always needing to hold you in some way and just have you near.

he fanaticizes about your wedding and babies with you late at night or when he's balls deep in you

"fuck, can't wait to fill you up with my babies, gonna make you a mommy"

and by the way, after a game. a win or a loss, he's fucking you.

if he won, he's letting his victory in your pussy, ramming into you over and over while your legs bend in abnormal positions every two seconds while he babbles about how he couldn't get his mind off you the whole time

if he lost...oh man. he's taking all that anger out on you. it goes on for hours until he is finally drained and calm while you lay there full of his cum.

before a conference, you give him a "good luck suck" because he hates going to them, and this makes him feel a lot better <3

.

his fans are crazy, and once they caught wind of your relationship, all hell broke loose.

a photo came to light of eren simply hugging you. you know how careful he is with that stuff so you hid it from him, knowing he rarely goes on social media it should be a breeze, right?

you had your knees up to your chest and a twisted brow on, reading through the death threats and horrible comments made about your appearance.

you're an idiot for not privating your account in time, they found you and are coming in full swing.

you felt your stomach sink, you shouldn't let them get to you, but they're pointing out insecurities you've been trying to bury

"you okay?"

you look up to see eren, in the doorway with a concerned look all over his face. you turn off your phone and put a smile on

"yeah, just stupid stuff" you chuckle uncomfortably. he walks over and climbs onto the bed

"what happened?" "nothing, eren"

he looked at you for a couple more seconds, giving you the option to tell him what was going on. then his eyes slowly traveled to your phone you tossed across the bed. you reached for it franticly but he got it in time and as you yelled out his name he unlocked it with his face

everything on his face just dropped in an instant, he read through message after message about people wishing you dead, saying not-so-nice things about your looks, and more.

he asked when this started while he kept staring into the phone, then asked why you didn't tell him.

"I knew it would worry you, so I just-" "you need to tell me these things" he reached over to grab his phone as he started typing, you looked over to see him making a twitter post and you freaked

"don't say anything about it!" you plead, but it was too late, he made a simple post yelling at his 'fans' and then turned his phone off and held you

"please don't worry about those stupid messages"

.

in all, footballplayer!eren is the man of your dreams, and he hopes you haven't found the ring box in his sock drawer yet. <3

an: love him sm <3

[greyskyflowers]

Zoro being just a little desperate for soft affection because people don't touch him gently. He's not something people handle with care or touch with careful intentions.

He's a swordsman

The first mate of the future pirate king and a god

A strawhat pirate

He doesn't mind it, because you can't miss something you don't really know, but sometimes he gets hints of it. Like Chopper taking care of his injuries or Robin's hands brushing against him as she hands him something. The others don't touch gently. They're pirates, liars, thieves and fighters.

It's hard to be gentle on the sea.

Luffy's too strong for his own good

Sanji's alway eager to pick a fight

Nami's not very familiar with gentleness herself

Usopp's too unsure

Franky doesn't trust himself

Brook doesn't think he's capable of it anymore

Zoro deserves gentle sometimes though, when he's more white bandages than tan skin or when he smells like blood rather than salt.

Sometimes he looks very breakable for how unbreakable he is.

There are times he looks soft, only with them.

When he lets himself wake up slowly, silver eye still cloudy with sleep and everything about him sleep ruffled and soft.

Or when he speaks with Chopper, letting his body loosen from a stricter hold and creating a welcoming atmosphere that always has Chopper climbing into his lap or dancing happily.

Always when he takes care of his swords, each movement done without too much thought after years of repetition. A critical eye looking them over before moving to the next, handled with a care that looks like it should be unnatural to a man like Zoro.

He goes sweet for them.

Looking as surprised as they do when he surges towards the gentle affection like he can't stop himself.

💙

Luffy throwing his arm around Zoro's shoulders, and touching, thoughtless and confident because he knows Zoro won't pull away. His fingers playing with earrings, petting at soft hair and brushing against skin.

Zoro can't help the little, protesting noise that slips out when it stops.

Luffy looks at him with a blank expression and observing eyes, the face he wears when he's serious about something. He returns his hand to the side of Zoro's neck and it's so careful, fingers caressing against his neck in little brushes and it has him melting.

Luffy's incredibly pleased because Zoro is such a warm, happy weight against his side, all loose limbed and practically purring.

He looks vulnerable and sleepy in a way that has a bubble of something growing in Luffy's chest. It threatens to choke him, his throat tight with it and his heart beating weird. He just keeps petting with confident but gentle touches.

Zoro buries his face in his shoulder and it knocks the wind out of his lungs. He wants to move, energy popping under his skin in happiness but he stays still. The arms he wraps around Zoro to drag him closer, half on his lap and still not close enough, are gentle.

💙

Sanji trying to figure out the best way to get Zoro back to the crew after a battle. Hovering because everywhere looks bruised and bloody, seriously it's like he tries to get cut up during his fights.

Finally getting him up enough that he can climb on Sanji's back and they'll try that way.

Zoro's lighter than he looks, they all know that but it's always a little surprising. He's quick on his feet, has used half the crew as spring boards for a push off in fights and he definitely wouldn't be able to do that so easily if he weighed what he looks.

He's a warm weight against Sanji's back and the cook can feel his thighs from where he's got his hands placed for support, they have a healthy layer of fat covering the muscle.

He's embarrassed by the pleased feeling he gets from that. The idea that Zoro is healthy and taken care of because of him is powerful. He's very proud of how the crew looks healthy and strong, nothing about them that suggests hunger or poor nutrition.

He brushes his thumb back and forth in a gentle way, briefly wishing he felt skin instead of fabric, before very quickly shoving that thought into a little box and placing it all the way to the back of his mind.

Zoro relaxes into him, body pressing heavier as he stops tensing up and his chin digging into Sanji's shoulder. He looks exhausted but his breathing has calmed and he almost looks like he could fall asleep.

Sanji just tugs him more securely against his back, desperately ignoring the way Zoro's legs tightens around his waist at the movement and how his chest pressing against Sanji's back has his nose itching. Zoro relaxes again and Sanji goes back to rubbing his thumbs back and forth, gentle and comforting.

💙

100% based on the ideas that:

Luffy just casually touches, hugs, climbs on, etc the crew whenever he wants because they're his.

Sanji is very proud that the crew looks healthy and strong, knowing it's because he's the one making their food.

Zoro being a strange type of touch starved that has him unconsciously giving off cat vibes of please pet me and I'm sorry if I get overwhelmed and bite.

[qqueenofhades]

Not that anything's a for sure bet but my read on the general situation re: Harris-Walz is that there's going to be a lot less headwind to fight for Harris specifically as opposed to Clinton because the amazing right wing media hasn't had twenty years for poison to seep into the layperson's thoughts about Clinton's "worthiness"

Well, that and the fact that the MAGA crowd are just really, really bad strategic planners (especially since a solid 75% of their strategy is "lol we'll just cheat and win it that way, we don't need anything else.") They howled for 3.5 years about how Biden was too old to serve and should step down, and then when he did, they had zero plan how to run against Kamala and Trump is now practically begging Biden to magically get back into the race and save him. They ran an anti-Shapiro influence campaign by encouraging the antisemitic online left and planning to exploit the issue among Democrats divided on Israel/Gaza, then furiously melted down when Walz was picked and had no plan to deal with him either. Fascism is a helluva drug, kiddos. Don't try it at home.

The reason Harris has been able to rocket so high is simple, which is that she's channeling Obama 08 energy in more ways than one. Obama also came onto the national political scene four years before (with his speech at the 2004 DNC) and four years later, he was the party's nominee. It didn't even matter that he was a skinny brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama, because people were so tired of the chaos and war and incompetence of Bush Jr that they latched onto a simple message of hope and change and the historical nature of his candidacy felt like an optimistic risk worth taking. Why couldn't it be time for the first African American president? Yes, of course, there was incredible vitriol and we are still dealing with that backlash in some ways now, but still.

As I have said before, Trump is technically not the incumbent, but the last 8 years have been dominated by his hatred, chaos, division, rage, and treason in a way even Bush could never quite manage, and when people get to that point, there's a lot of coiled-up energy that has at last come bursting out. We needed Biden's old-moderate-white-man cred to defeat Trump as the sitting president in 2020, when most of his worst scandals hadn't even happened yet, but this is not 2020 (or 2016) and the dynamic is different. We are now on offense and playing to win, people have readily and eagerly embraced the absolute god tier karma that would come from a black female prosecutor finally ending the Orange Menace's reign of terror once and for all, and the Republicans are spitting smoke and spinning gears running frantically through their usual tired old stupid cliche attacks. GAY TRANS EVIL BIRTHERISM SWIFTBOAT FOREIGN FAR LEFT COMMIE LIBERAL HEATHEN!! they scream desperately, trying to find something that sticks. Except this time, no matter how hard the corporate media tries to help them out, nobody is listening. Nobody is buying it. We know exactly what BS they're trying and we're just shrugging and going "Yeah, no. Weird."

It absolutely helps that Kamala is not dragging the ball and chain of 20 years of Republican smear attacks, yes. But there are a lot of reasons why the GOP is imploding before our eyes and it's probably now more statistically likely that there is a blue tsunami than it is that Trump wins. I still cannot, CANNOT, believe it has been barely three fucking weeks. If this is a dream don't want to wake up, etc. Let me goddamn stay in this timeline just a little longer. And if we do the work, we can in fact make it that way, and Yeah. Yeah.

[mothwingwritings]

Cherished Gift

F!Reader X Zayne (Love And Deepspace)

Look, I know this is coming out of left field but I did not want to let my husband Zayne Love and Deepspace’s birthday pass by without at least trying to write/post something. I hustled to get this out, it’s truly probably the quickest I have written something lol. It’s little and a bit rushed, but I hope you all enjoy!!! AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZAYNE! It’s all about you today, my Virgo king! <3

Warnings: NSFW, Mentions of sex and sexual themes so 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!! Other than that, it’s all just fluff and love my darlings! <3 There is very little editing, though.

Witnessing an uncomposed Zayne was a very rare sight. His default state was to be the stoic and stern doctor, exhibiting a frosty countenance and no-nonsense demeanor that would make anyone in his presence want to instantly be on their best behavior. It was such a natural state for him that it often aggravated you, as you felt that his outward presentation kept so many people from getting to know the true Zayne, and what a loving, giving, warm person he actually was. 

But currently, that grim doctor was nowhere to be found. In his place was a blissed out, disheveled mess, half clothed and panting as he lounged in his plush recliner. Sweat made his hair stick to his flushed forehead, his red tinted cheeks making him look almost cherubic were it not for the fire that smoldered in his emerald eyes, and throbbing dick still buried deep inside of you.

Even in his post coitus haze, his eyes never once left your form. He drank you in with as much interest now as he had while you were writhing and bouncing on his cock, maybe even more so now that he wasn’t completely lost in the thralls of pleasure. Though you were pleased with your work, you couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed by his unwavering attention, especially considering that Zayne wasn’t the only one left in such a sloppy state.

The lingerie set you had purchased especially for his birthday celebration had long since been discarded (it was incredible really, just how quickly the skimpy fabric gave way to his feverish hands), and your makeup and hair that you had fretted over for hours  was now nothing more than a smeared mess and chaotic tangle. Part of you wanted to dismount him right away and run to the restroom to freshen up, take a moment to remove the saliva and bits of cum that still lingered around your lips from your first go around with him. But you couldn’t find yourself pulling away from him, and minor embarrassment aside, Zayne did not appear to care how filthy you looked. His eyes still held on to you with such wanton reverence that you couldn’t help but blush, drinking in your unkempt appearance with a warmth that made your heart melt.

After several moments of silence that were broken only by the rasps of your choppy breathing, you felt him start to soften inside of you. The hands you had planted firmly on his chest noticing his heart beat steady, the electric energy buzzing in the air during your love making diminishing into a pleasant aura of peace.

Slowly, you climbed off him, his hands reluctantly falling from your waist as you did so. With a wave of your hand you motioned him to scoot over, which once done, you nestled beside him, burrowing yourself into the crook of his arm. He wrapped the limb around you tightly, keeping you pressed firmly to his side as he planted a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

Once you had settled in, you spoke up. “So,” a playful lilt tinged your voice as you looked up at the man holding you so lovingly, “How would you rank your birthday thus far? It at least has to be better than working, right?”

He answered with a pleased hum, “This is the best birthday I have ever had. I’ve been completely spoiled.” His hand traveled to your head, lazily massaging his fingers against your scalp, “But you may have created a monster. Now I am going to start expecting this treatment every birthday.”

 You giggled, “Lucky for you, this is only the tip of the iceberg! I’ll spoil you rotten for every one of your birthdays if you let me~”

It was Zayne’s turn to laugh, a small smile creeping across his lips, “Are you just trying to get me indebted to you?” He scrubbed your head, giving you another chaste kiss, “Because there is no need, you won’t ever have to bribe me for my affection. Everything I have I give to you freely. Your presence alone is enough of a treat, and your love is a gift I will forever cherish.”

“Zayne,” snuggling your face closer to his chest, you hoped to hide the deep crimson brought on by his earnest admission, “… I could spend hours talking and never be able to explain how much you mean to me. Words shy in comparison to the depths of my feelings, but… I love you. I will always love you, Zayne.”

With your heart felt confession lingering in the air, you spent the next several minutes glued to each other’s side in a comfortable silence. As you watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, your eyes began to grow heavy, the exertion of the day’s prior activities finally catching up to you. While you were swiftly being carried off to dream land, you felt Zayne  moving beside you. The lack of warmth made you crack your eyes, your sleepy gaze watching as he repositioned himself atop you.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead, “I was going to take you to bed so you could sleep more comfortably.”

You rubbed your eyes, shaking your head a bit. “No, it’s OK. I am glad you woke me up. I don’t want to spend the rest of your birthday sleeping, I want to spend it with you.”

He smiled at the innocent delivery of your words, “Well if a nap is out of the question, why don’t we start getting cleaned up for dinner?”

You gave a nod of approval, sitting up to stretch your weary body. Arching your back and extending your arms, the cool air on your exposed skin caused you to shiver slightly, goosebumps forming across your chest and arms at the sensation. Feeling a bit more spry now that you were loosened up, you started to shimmy your way off the seat, but Zayne’s body blocked your path, barring you from moving any further. “Zayne…?”

Fire was coming back to his eyes as he watched you move, answering your inquiry with a kiss to your lips. What started out as a peck soon grew in ferocity, hungry lips moving against yours with a passion you were desperate to match.

“Zayne,” you breathed in between his relentless assault, “I thought you said we were going to get cleaned up? I’m kind of gross right now, and we have a reservation, so we have to get ready to leave soon.”

“We have time,” he cut you off gently, planting a kiss to the tip of your nose, “and you are brilliant, even all mussed up. In fact, I find you exceptionally lovely right now knowing that I was the one that brought you to such a state.”

Your body flushed as he continued his attack, skilled hands trailing the length of your body, caressing you so gingerly you couldn’t help but careen your body towards him, seeking out more. “So beautiful,” he whispered against your neck, “Every part of you is breathtaking, (Name). Let me enjoy you.”

“But it’s your birthday, not mine …” Your voice trailed off as he nipped at your breast, biting down just hard enough to leave a lasting mark. You whimpered as he then kissed the tender flesh, your reaction causing a small, mischievous smile to form on his face.

“I know,” his soft voice murmured against your chest as he continued trailing his lips down your body, “Which is precisely why I know you won’t deny me my favorite gift of all, correct? The best way to make me feel good is to let me make you feel good in return.”

You smiled sheepishly at him, moving your hands to gently cup his face, “Well, I guess I can’t deny the birthday boy on his special day, can I?” You sighed, tracing your thumb gently across the apple of his cheek, “I love you.”

He turned his head, leaving a kiss on your palm, “I love you, too.”

[daydreams-after-dark]

Billionaire Lee Minho and his Pretty Little Plaything

You're at billionaire Lee Minho's extravagant party at some fancy historical manor, where unbeknownst to you he want to make you his "Plaything".

Before you know what's happening you find yourself in a room with Minho, Changbin and Hyunjin. Minho has plans for you but he doesn't know you can play games too.

Pairing: Lee Know x fem reader, Changbin x fem reader, Hyunjin x fem reader.

Word count: 8k approx

a/n: This story was originally posted on my main blog @moonlightndaydreams called "Minho meets his match".

WARNINGS: NSFW // contains depictions of explicit sexual content // some m x m stuff // unsafe vagina sex // vaginal fingering // explicit language // oral sex female // oral sex male // nudity // sex in front of others // mild blood kink // choking // anal fingering // attempted anal sex // plaything kink // ejaculation // female ejaculation // cum eating

You felt the dark rappers eyes watching you as soon as you stepped into party, making the hairs on your neck stand on end.

He was weighing you up, you could tell, making you feel self conscious and short of breath. Trying to compose your racing heart, you smoothed down the satin fabric of your long slinky black dress (the one with the thigh high split) as you made your way to the make shift bar across the room, hoping he’d lose interest in you.

But his stare bored into your back, burning into your skin and through your flesh melting your insides.

“A sparkling wine please.” You said to the bar tender, and he passed you your glass of alcohol.

You hadn’t intended to come to the party but your boss said it would be a good idea to make an appearance and so here you were, begrudgingly. You preferred a quiet night with your stories.

You sipped your drink and took in your surroundings. The party was being hosted by billionaire Lee Minho, one of the most eligible bachelors of the moment. The man had an impeccable reputation as a respectable gentleman. You hadn’t ever heard a negative or scandalous thing about him. Not even a whisper. “Hmmm” you scoffed, either he was incredibly boring or incredibly careful.

But, he was intriguing, you thought to yourself. Look at this place. Who would host a glamorous party in an historical Manor instead of the newest and flashiest club? You cast your eyes around the room. The place was pulsing with people and the music was pounding through the sound system that had been set up.

The manor felt more like a castle, and you loved the stone pillars and architecture. You admired the grand staircase that made it’s way up the second floor, to what you could only assume were offices or accommodation. You didn’t really know what was up there, and you didn’t get a chance to wonder either because when you dropped your eyes from the upper level you locked eyes on the dark rapper leaning against the wall next to the staircase.

Changbin was his name, and he was a popular music artist. A well known rapper and producer. He was also Lee Minho’s right hand man. Or security guard. You weren’t quite sure what his relationship with Lee Minho entailed, but he was never far away.

You didn’t realise you were biting your lower lip as you watched him watch you, his arms were crossed over his broad, chest and he had one booted foot resting against the wall behind. He opened his pouty mouth slightly and you felt your cheeks reddening as he unashamedly looked you up and down.

Your melted insides now felt like they were pooling in your vagina and moistening your panties. You shouldn’t be turned on but you were. You clenched your vagina walls and you felt an ache to be filled and stretched. How dare he stare at you like this? How dare he make you feel this way?

You downed the remainder of your beverage and slammed the empty glass on a nearby table before you boldly walked towards him. He didn’t budge. He didn’t even look away. He just kept his eyes locked on you as though your were the tastiest thing he’d ever seen. You didn’t take your eyes off him either and you found it thrilling to be challenging him like this.

You had almost reached him, but at the last second you turned to your left and went up the stairs.

You didn’t even know where you were heading, but there was no way you were going to give Changbin the satisfaction of you approaching him. He would have thought that his dark stare had somehow cast a spell on you and that you needed to be his, and that you’d fall straight into his trap… or lap. But you didn’t like giving in to people that easily. You were agitated that your body was betraying your thoughts and challenging your willpower. That’s why you went upstairs. To get away from the situation, and you hoped he wouldn’t follow you. Well your brain was hoping that he wouldn’t follow you… what your body was hoping for you weren’t so sure.

The landing presented you with two options - a dark, narrow hallway to the left, or a long, somewhat lit hallway directly in front of you. You decided to go with the second option. The hallway was wide with many doors along both sides, and a large window at the end. There were wall lamps between each of the doors lighting the way.

You suddenly felt a surge of panic when you realised that if Changbin had followed you then where would you hide? What if all of the doors were locked? You felt trapped as your heart rate increased and your hairs stood on end (again). You were about to look over your shoulder to see if he had followed you, but before you could even turn your head a hand grabbed your arm and pushed you back hard against the wall. You let out a squeal and your eyes widened as Changbin stood close to you, trapping you with his arms resting on either of side of your head.

“This…” he whispered “is an out of bounds area. You shouldn’t be up here.” His voice was cold and stern and his eyes were dark and challenging.

“I was just looking for the bathroom.” You said defiantly. Who could argue with the call of nature, right?

Changbin clicked his tongue as it to say that’s the oldest excuse in the book.

He stepped even closer to you, his body pressed against yours making you feel weak in the knees. You could feel his length hardening in his trousers and your molten insides were really seeping out of you now. You weren’t about to let on that he was affecting you this way.

He released his right hand from the wall and his fingers ghosted your cheek, your neck, the side of you breast and stomach, but he didn’t touch you until he placed it on your left hip. Your breath hitched and got caught in your throat, but you stared, no, glared at him trying to gain some sort of control or power over the situation. But he simply dug his teeth into his lip and dropped his gaze to your lips and then further to the top of your cleavage.

The hand he still had pressed against the wall softly landed on the spaghetti strap of your dress, slipping his finger underneath. But he didn’t slide it off your shoulder. He seemed to be contemplating what he wanted to do. What he could do. He knew all it would take was to slip the flimsy strap down your arm and you’d be exposed to him. He let out a long exhale.

Then his eyes snapped back up to yours as he snapped out of his thoughts.

“Anyway, I guess it doesn’t really matter that you’re up here. Mister Lee has asked me to collect you. He’s requested your presence.”

He’s what? Why would Lee Minho want to see you? How does he even know who you are?

Your intuition kicked into gear. Something didn’t seem right. There was absolutely no reason for him to need to see you. What could he possibly want with you? Minho seemed far too squeaky clean on the outside to really be squeaky clean, and that made you suspicious.

You felt the urge to get out of there. Fast.

Adrenaline kicked in and you kicked Changbin in the leg as hard as you could, startling him and making him step back. Now was your chance, but he was blocking your way back towards the stairs.

That left you having to run up the hallway, testing doors. Most of them were locked. What were you going to do?

Chanbgin quickly recovered and was slowly closing in on you. But he didn’t seem rushed or panicked. It was like in those horror movies where the victim would be running away from the serial killer who would simply walk calmly in pursuit, and then eventually... you didn't want to think about that.

In your frantic attempt to get away, you managed to find an unlocked door. Thank Fuck. You felt a wave of relief as you stepped inside and closed the door, locking it from the inside. You leaned your head against the door panting. You were safe for now.

Once you caught your breath and calmed your racing heart, you turned around to see where you were. That’s when you saw him. Lee Minho sitting on a brown leather couch, arms outstretched along he backrest, and in his lap was a man’s head, sucking his cock.

“Look Hyunjin, my plaything has arrived.” He said amused as he smirked and gave you the deadliest glare you’d ever seen.

———

You stood fixed to the spot. What the actual fuck was happening?

Hyunjin lifted his head and looked up at you. You didn’t know where to look, your eyes darting between Hyunjin’s puffy, slobbery lips, and Minho’s throbbing, angry cock before snapping back up to meet Minho’s deadly stare.

“Do you like what you see, pretty lady?” He sneered.

This was messed up. You had to get the fuck out of there. You spun around and went for the door, hoping to God that Changbin had given up on you and gone back downstairs. But as you opened the door ready to bolt you ran smack bang into a hard chest. Changbin.

He’d been standing outside the door and now he was edging you back into the room.

You didn’t dare let the three men see your fear that was coursing through you, or that other feeling that you were ignoring, as you were backed towards the edge of an unoccupied couch.

“Sit.” Changbin instructed and gently pushed you into the chair and then he proceeded to sit in the armchair opposite you, crossing his arms and staring you down.

You look to the two men on the couch on your right. Hyunjin had now sat up and was sitting with his legs crossed, leaning on his hand and watching you curiously. He had his tongue poked out between his plump, red lips and strands of black hair had escaped his pointy tail, making him look disheveled.

The way he looked at you made you feel like you were the most interesting and unique creature he’d ever laid eyes on, while at the same time that’s how you were looking at him too.

Fuck, he was stunning, you thought. He was wearing a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he’d paired it with black dress pants. Designer for sure.

If Changbin’s eyes bored through your skin and melted your insides, then Hyunjin’s eyes set you on fire.

You folded your arms across your chest, fully aware that it pushed your cleavage up, and crossed one leg over the other, the split in your dress exposing almost the entire length of your leg. You might be scared, but you certainly weren't shy.

Although you were directing a death stare Minho, you registered in your peripheral Changbin stiffen and grip the chair arms, and Hyunjin slinked down like a feline onto his side to lean on couch arm to continue watching you.

Minho just stared right back at you. His eyes were dark, like Changbin’s, but there was something else there. There was a sinisterness, a glimmer of evil behind his eyes, like this was a game.

But you were good at playing games too.

Minho was about to meet his match.

---------------------------

“Okay. Look. This…” you gesture around the room “is well and truly fucked up. I don’t know who you are, or what you want. And what do you mean by ‘plaything’ anyway? And what makes you think that I’m it? You don’t fucking know me!” you ranted, not pausing, not giving them a chance to interject. You were absolutely fuming mad. "Who the fuck are you people?"

Hyunjin silently laughed to himself, and Changbin didn’t budge. Minho smirked, one corner of his mouth curling up.

“Are you quite finished?” he sounded amused as you continued to glare at him.

“Of course you know who we are,” he scoffed. “And we know who you are.” You swallowed hard.

“And… by ‘plaything’” the smirk and amusement leaving his face and replaced with a cold expression. “I mean I am going to fuck you however I like, as many times as I like, and… as hard as I like. And when you beg me to stop… I’ll just keep going…and when I do stop, well” he paused for a moment then whispered “you’ll want me to do it again.”

Your mouth hung open in disbelief as you let his words sink in. What a presumptuous asshole! How dare he be so fucking cocky. How dare he think he can request your presence and then do whatever the fuck he wants with you?

“But,” Minho’s calculating voice broke your frantic thoughts. “I’m not going to fuck you until you beg for it.”

You couldn’t help yourself but burst out laughing. What the actual fuck?

“So,” you tried to control your condescending laugh “you’re not going to do anything until I beg you?” you shook your head. Wow. “Don’t you think that’s a bit, I don’t know, up yourself?” you raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down. He was actually very attractive, but there would be no way in hell that you would ever beg him to have sex with you. Out of principle. But you were intrigued, and you were curious to see how this would unfold.

Minho said nothing, but his equally condescending stare told you he that he thought he knew better.

His eyes silently challenged you. “You can try to fight this all you like, but you will beg me to fuck you. That, I can promise.” He said, whispering the last part. It sent chills down your spine. You glared at him for what felt like a whole minute.

“Not if you beg me for it first.” You said coldly. Minho looked taken aback. He wasn’t expecting you to challenge him like this. He might’ve expected you to simply leave, but actually dare to suggest that he’d be the one doing the begging? Well this sounded interesting to him and you could see it in his facial expression.

He nodded his head “Okay, I get it, your a feisty one. I should’ve expected that. But I think you will be sorely disappointed.”

“Yes, well we’ll see won’t we?” you responded.

Hyunjin looked thrilled with what was unfolding as he looked wide-eyed between the you and Minho. Changbin just continued to sit silently like a stoic statue.

Now you needed to think of a way to get Minho to beg you to let him fuck you. Just that thought alone jolted you into the realisation that what if he did beg? Would you really want that? Would you really let him do that to you?

You studied Minho while you contemplated what to do. Physically he looked fucking sexy, his face was pleasant when he didn’t have a sinister expression (which by the way the sinister expression did do things to you that you didn’t dare want to admit). His body seemed toned and fit, although it was hiding under a dinner suit. Then there was his cock, which had been put back in his trousers. You could tell from that quick glimpse earlier it was impressive, and you were certain he knew how to use it well.

But his arrogance and self assuredness really pissed you off and fired you up. It ignited your competitive side. You liked to win, and you fucking hated to lose.

So yes, you would let him fuck you if he begged you.

And with that you made your first move.

“Hyunjin,” you said softly. His eyes darted to yours curiously. “Come sit on the floor in front of me.” You ushered him down to the floor, and like a slinky panther he slid to the floor and sat at your feet.

“You’re really pretty close up.” He giggled.

“You think?” you smiled back at him. Hyunjin’s eyes followed your exposed leg from the ankle all the way up to the top of your thigh and he licked his lips.

“Do you like what you see?” you taunted. Hyunjin nodded “Hmmm…yes.” He whispered.

“You can touch me if you want, Hyunjin.” And you snapped your eyes up to Minho who shrugged and made a face like he didn’t care.

Hyunjin brought a finger to your ankle and traced a long, delicate finger slowly up your shin, over your knee and along the top of your thigh. It sent a shiver through you and you could feel yourself burning up.

“I know you like sucking cock, Hyunjin, but… do you like eating pussy too?” Hyunjin’s head snapped up and he nodded excitedly. “I fucking love eating pussy.”

You leaned in close to Hyunjin’s ear and whispered “Do you want to be a brat to Minho and eat my pussy?”

You leaned back on the sofa and Hyunjin slid your dress up to spread your knees wide. He let out a wobbly exhale and his tongue hung out of the corner of his mouth. And for a long moment he just admired you, gazing between your legs before sliding your underwear off. You looked at Minho and you caught him swallowing hard.

From where Changbin sat across the room he had a full view of your pussy and you could see it was having an affect on him. His mouth had parted again and his eyes had that same hungry look that he had when he watched you earlier downstairs.

Hyunjin dove between your legs and it took you by surprise, making you squeal. Minho laughed from the side.

Hyunjin knew what he was doing, building you up to three long, slender fingers in no time at all. His wicked tongue doing obscene things to your lips and clit. His fingers expertly pressed into your g-spot and it made you come undone within 5 minutes, shaking and clenching around his mouth and fingers.

Once you came down from your high, you pushed Hyunjin away and instructed him to lay on the shag rug in front of the couches. You knelt between his legs to undo his trousers and released his long cock. How the fuck were you going to suck him off? He was simply too long! You quickly worked out that the best way to tackle this was to straddle Hyunjin’s chest, that way his cock would enter your mouth at a much better angle to take him in your throat.

But you still couldn’t get him all in. But boy did you try. You fought back the urge to gag, tears ran down your face, saliva dribbled out the corners of your mouth and down his length. You used your hand to take care of what you couldn’t take with your mouth, and you found a steady rhythm that seemed to be driving Hyunjin wild.

You felt his hands land on your ass and then slide your dress up over your hips so he could get another good look at you before pulling you back to sit on his face. His tongue dove into your pussy and his perfect lips sucked on your clit again. He lifted you off his face slightly so he could run his thumb along your folds, slicking it up, and pushing it into your second entrance while pulling you back down onto his face. You groaned at the burning stretch and rolled your hips, grinding and sliding your wetness all over his face.

Hyunjin was losing control under you, grunting and bucking his hips up into your face as he painted your throat in cum, making you literally choke on his cock and semen.

You were so close to orgasm but you had other ideas and you lifted yourself up off of Hyunjin.

“Naww… but I haven’t felt that pussy around my cock yet.” He whined as he laid spent on the floor.

“Patience, Hyunjin.” you reassured him.

You stole a glance up at Minho. His eyes were nearly black with rage as he scowled at you disapprovingly.

So he didn’t like what you were doing? Good.

You set your sights on Changbin next. You crawled towards him and he parted his legs so you could kneel in between them. With hooded eyes you looked up at him. His eyes were cloudy with lust, and his fucking pouty lips were driving you crazy. And he was hard, so fucking hard in his trousers. You reached for his belt. You wanted to relief him of his erection, but he grabbed your wrist and shook his head.

“I don’t want your slutty mouth around my cock until you’ve kissed me.” He said gruffly, and pulled you up to straddle his lap.

Wow that sentence started off so dirty and ended so… sweet, you thought and you leaned in to gently kiss his mouth. He tasted like whiskey and toothpaste, and it didn’t take long before you were devouring his mouth and sinking your tongue in to connect with his. You lifted your dress out of the way so that your bare pussy rubbed against his trousers, the friction feeling delicious. His hands roamed your back, caressed your ass, guiding you as you ground against his hardness.

You were shaking with desire and you were dying to come again “I need you inside me, Changbin.” You panted. You shifted back so you could access his fly and hastily released his cock, and slid yourself down over his shaft.

Changbin grunted and he looked like he was in pain as you rode him slowly.

“Fucking hell you feel so good.” He grunted and he buried his face in your neck.

Changbin definitely had some girth to him and you mewled at how stretched open he made you feel. He reached up to your spaghetti strap and this time he tucked a finger underneath the flimsy string and tugged it off your shoulder. He repeated the action for the other strap and allowed the top of your dress to slip down to reveal your breasts.

Changbin’s mouth latched onto a nipple, nibbling and flicking it with his tongue. His other hand giving your other breast a meaty squeeze.

“Turn her around, Changbin.” Hyunjin suggested. “Let Minho see her face while she’s being fucked.”

With one last growl and a bite of your nipple, Changbin easily lifted you off his cock so you could turn around.

With one foot on placed on the seat either side of his thighs, you lowered yourself back down onto his dick and leaned back against his chest.

“Take off her dress.” Hyunjin prompted.

Minho remained silent, but never looked away.

Changbin lifted your dress over your head and tossed it to the side. Now you were fully naked and completely exposed. You felt a rush of adrenaline as Hyunjin watched you with fascination. Changbin’s hands roamed your naked form, before landing back on your breasts. He seemed to love your tits. And you loved the way his hands felt as he fondled them.

You leaned your head right back against Changbin’s shoulder, offering him your neck. He took it willingly, sucking your pulse.

You felt Hyunjin’s hands under your thighs, lifting your legs up so that your knees were pushed against your chest. You had no control of the thrusting now, and you were at the mercy of the two men.

Hyunjin would slide you halfway up Changbin’s cock and Changbin would roll his hips up into you completely, then he’d roll back out. Then Hyunjin would slide you up part way and drop you back down full force onto the rapper’s cock. Sometimes they’d work together where Hyunjin would lift you up almost the whole way off Changbin and then forcefully ram you back down at the same time Changbin would snap his hips up. It made you cry out in pleasure.

Then Hyunjin found your clit with his tongue and that was truly more than you could bare. With one hand around Chsngbin’s neck, the other in Hyunjin’s hair, your gaze drifted to Minho. His mouth was hung open and his eyes now had a different look to them. You couldn’t quite pick what it was about them, but the way he looked a you sent you hurtling towards orgasm.

It sent Changbin over the edge too, and you felt his cum spurt up into you as he screamed out an animalistic growl.

As you came down, you realised how truly exhausted you were, and it took you a while to stop shaking.

Hyunjin wasted absolutely no time pulling you off Changbin. He was hard again and he was dying to fuck you.

He laid you down on the carpet and you felt Changbin’s cum seeping out of you onto the rug. You hoped no one would notice.

“Let me fuck that back into you.” Hyunjin whispered deviously. The man was beautiful, but fuck he was bratty too.

He hovered above you and gazed at you momentarily, then he dove into your neck at the same time he drove his cock into you. You winced as he hit your cervix, but it didn’t seem to bother him, and he kept trying to inch as much of himself into as he could with every thrust. He was immersed in his own world, as he smashed into you, and as much as it wasn’t comfortable, you were still willing to take it.

Just when you thought tears were going to spring from your eyes, Hyunjin flipped onto his back, taking you along with him so your were on top. This new position allowed you to control the depth of Hyunjin, offering your cervix some respite. Before you had time to register it, you felt Changbin at your side offering you his cock. You took it in your mouth, and enthusiastically worked it like your life depended on it.

“Fuck that’s hot” Hyunjin sighed underneath you as he watched you sucking Changbin off.

“Changbin, come fuck her with me…help me tear up her insides.”

Your eyes widened in fear and you knew that Minho and Changbin saw your reaction. You accidentally bit down on Changbin’s dick, and he pulled out with a yelp.

“S-sorry.” You whispered desperately to him.

“Come on Binnie, I’m not going to last long.” Hyunjin whined.

Changbin looked like he’d seen a ghost. “No… I can’t,” he shook his head. “I..I don’t want to.” And with that he abruptly did up his trousers and hastily left the room.

“Well I wanna fuck your ass even if he doesn’t.” Hyunjin announced, not in the slightest bit fazed that his friend just stormed off. He lifted you off his cock and pushed you down onto your stomach and rubbed the head of his cock through your lips to line himself up with your back entrance.

But before he had a chance to penetrate you, he was suddenly thrown off you.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Minho roared. Hyunjin looked up at him bewildered. Minho glared furiously at Hyunjin. “I said get the fuck out of here. NOW!” and he dragged him by the collar and thew him out the door.

Minho turned back to you, and you saw an expression you hadn’t seen before. It was concern.

You felt like such a fool, and so fucking pathetic sitting there naked on the rug with cum still leaking out of you.

You didn’t want to look at Minho. He went to the corner of the room and returned with a throw blanket and wrapped it around your naked body.

“I think you’ve done more than enough, don’t you?” he said sternly. He lifted you up and carried you to the couch and sat you beside him.

He reached to the table next to couch and poured a glass of water. “Here.” He said pointing the glass at you. You took it begrudgingly and drank it down in one gulp. You were absolutely parched.

“Look, I just want to check…” he started, but you looked away. Minho took your chin in his hand and turned it back forcing you to look directly at him. “I want to know you’re okay.” His eyes searched yours, looking for any indication that you were hurt.

The walls you had up when you entered this room suddenly felt like they were going to crumble. You sucked in your bottom lip, squeezed your eyes closed and nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.” Your voice was so small.

Minho stroked your cheek, moving some loose strands of hair off your face. There wasn’t a hint of malice in his expression now.

“That’s better.” He said as he pushed the last strands of hair behind your ear.

His touch felt tender, as he tightened the blanket more snugly around you.

His eyes were warm as they drank in your lips.

You hated it. You wanted to scream at him. How dare he suddenly be so… so kind?

Then you kissed him.

---------------------

You pulled away abruptly, shocked at yourself.

Minho held your gaze with soft eyes but you could tell his mind was at work.

Then he reached around the back of your head and leaned in to kiss you. His kiss was a mix of urgency and care and you melted into it fast. His tongue dipped delicately into your mouth to catch yours. The man knew how to kiss, and the way it made you feel you knew you didn’t have much hope of resisting him.

It set you on fire, and without thinking you climbed onto his lap and straddled him, not breaking contact with his mouth even for a moment. The blanket slipped off you as one hand cupped his face and other one grabbed him greedily around the back of his neck. Minho’s hands were all over you, frantically trying to be everywhere at once. Everywhere except where you desperately wanted him to be. You unbuttoned his shirt, practically ripping it from his body, and explored his chest with your hands. You tried to grind on his crotch and you could feel he was aroused. He was so hard in his trousers, you thought it would somehow unzip his pants and spring free by itself.

“Minho,” you sounded so desperate and you hated it.

He leaned back and took a good look at your naked body then tilted his head up to meet your eyes. He brushed your jawline with his thumb.

He knew what you wanted. You knew your eyes were begging him to touch you.

“Say it for me, beautiful.” He said with a strained voice and dark, hungry eyes. The need in his voice took you by surprise. He gripped your hips and ground his crotch against you. “I can’t do it unless you beg, remember?” he panted. He was basically begging you to beg him, and you knew he was on the verge of giving in.

“Beg me to be your plaything, Minho” you cooed in response.

Minho snickered. “That’s not how this works.” He hissed, and leaned up to nibble your ear. “But you are making it so very hard.” He sighed.

You reached down to palm his trousers. “I know I am.” You smiled devilishly.

Minho, with what looked like all his self control, pulled right back and stopped touching you completely. It seemed he hoped this move would make you cave. And you nearly did. But you decided to take a gamble.

“Fine, Minho.” You huffed. “I said from the start I wouldn’t beg. And, I said if you begged me to, I would be your plaything. But if you’re not going to…” You slid off Minho’s lap and covered yourself with the blanket.

Minho winced at the sudden loss of being able to see and feel your body that was literally in his lap a moment ago.

You picked up your crumpled dress and panties and turned your back to Minho so you could get dressed.

The blanket pooled around you feet as it dropped to the floor and you struggled to untangle the dress from the mess Changbin made when he took it off you. How the fuck did he manage to get it half inside out?

You almost had the dress back the right way, and was about to step into it when you felt Minho’s arms wrap around your waist.

“Please stay,” he whispered into your ear and holding you close against his bare chest. “Please be mine tonight.”

You felt his hot breath on your neck and it sent your head in a spin.

“I need you.” His hands slid down your sides, your head fell back against his shoulder. “I have to be inside you.” He licked a trail from your shoulder up to your ear and then took the lobe in his mouth.

“How badly do you want it.” Your voice was barely a whisper. You were enjoying what his words were doing to you. He was fucking seducing you. And it was working.

“I’m fucking begging you to let me taste you. And feel you. And. Fuck. You.”

Every single part of your body was begging for him to own you, yet he was the one who said it first. It didn’t make you feel like you’d won. It made you feel wanted.

Minho spun you around to face him and stared straight into your eyes, waiting for your answer.

“I wanna be your plaything, Minho,” you said. “Fuck me however you want, as long as you want and as hard as you want. I wanna feel what you can do to me.” You said silkily and undid his trousers and dropped them to the floor, allowing Minho to step out of them. He looked God-like. “I need you to-”

Minho kissed you slow and deep and you wrapped your legs around him as he lifted you up and placed you lengthwise on the couch.

He was on top of you, pinning you down and devouring you in the most tender way possible. You thought he’d just throw you down and fuck you stupid.

His kisses were firm but careful and the pace slow and steady. It was like he was making love to you with just his mouth and it sent tingles down your spine. His hard cock pressed against you but he didn’t attempt to penetrate you. You wanted him to though.

As the kiss continued, little moans escaped both of you and your bodies began to react by writhing against one another.

Minho smiled against your mouth and peeled his lips away from yours “I’m gonna kiss your pussy like this now.”

He kissed his way down your body, slowing down when he reached your pubic bone so he could pay extra attention there. He kissed the crease where your thigh joined your body and he nibbled your inner thigh.

You whimpered when his precious lips made contact with your labia and clitoris. He kissed you in exactly the same way he kissed your mouth. Soft. Tender. Slow. Intentional. His tongue gently dipped in to caress your clit while his lips pressed against your swollen labia. Every now and then he’d gently suck or flick your clit with the tip of his tongue.

You propped yourself up on your elbows so you could watch this mysterious man do these wickedly sensual things to you.

He looked up at you with smiling eyes and you were certain he was actually smiling. You were melting into the couch, you’d never been given this type of attention from any of your previous lovers. It was heavenly.

You watched as Minho moved his kisses down to your entrance, where they became hungrier and more urgent. But still so gentle. You must have been dripping wet by now. And you absolutely ached for him to be inside you.

“Minho… you’re so soft…and careful…” you could barely speak.

“And…is that a problem?” he teased playfully.

“I…just… don’t… understand..” Why couldn’t you talk properly?

Minho licked a stripe up through your lips and lifted his head. But he didn’t take his eyes off your pussy.

“You see… If I go softly and give your sweet pussy proper attention,” he dipped his head and kissed you. His voice was low and husky and his eyes became so dark you thought they’d turned black. “You’ll be able to take more of what I’m going to give you,” he sucked on your clit. “you’ll be able to stretch wider…” He slid a finger through your dripping folds and brought it to his mouth to suck it clean.

You thought you were going to come on the spot.

“You’ll be able to take it deeper…” he brought his finger back down to tease your entrance. “And…” he paused. “it’ll make the pain feel more….exquisite when I hurt you.” And he slid his finger into you and pressed against your g-spot bringing you almost to -

He removed his fingers just as you were about to come. You clenched your fists and squeezed you vagina hoping to bring on the release. But you’d lost it. Fucking bastard!

He knew exactly what he’d done. The satisfaction on his face was as plain as day.

“Now beautiful,” he blew cold air on your lips to deliberately make you squirm. “You’re gonna take four fingers for me, okay?”

Your eyes bulged. You’d never take four fingers before. Minho saw your horrified expression. “You’ve never had anyone stretch you open like that, hmm?” he lifted an eyebrow.

You shook your head quickly.

Minho reached down to the floor and picked up the blanket and placed it under you body. Then he found a stray cushion and placed in under your head, kissing your mouth then shimmying his way back down to get to work.

He brought two fingers to your entrance, as his mouth found your clit again. You moaned as he slipped his digits inside of you.

“Trust me beautiful. Your body can take it, I promise. You want to be a good plaything don’t you?” He purposefully avoided your g-spot as he slowly fucked you with his two fingers. You began to move your hips against him. Two fingers wasn’t enough.

Minho removed his fingers only to find you again with three. You sucked in your breath as he squeezed into you. This was the kind of stretch you loved and you mewled as he started to slowly pump you with them.

“Baby, shhh… slow your breathing…I need you to relax. Can you do that for me beautiful.” He slowed down his thrusts even further and kissed your stomach before looking up at you.

“Are you ready to take the last one? Can you be a good plaything and take it for me?”

“Mm-hmm… please.” You wanted to feel whatever he was willing to give you. Even if that scared you a little.

Minho pushed one of your legs to hang off the side of the couch, the other he pushed up towards your chest, and brought all four fingers to your entrance. “You’re such a good girl. Trust me, your body knows what to do.” And he edged the tips of his fingers into you.

You cried out at the stretch. It was like nothing you’d ever felt. You had friends who talked of doing this easily, but it was new for you, and you weren't one hundred percent sure you could manage it.

Your threw your hands above your head and gripped the top edge of the cushion your head was laying on. You felt like you were going to suffocate, and your pussy felt like it was going to split in two.

Minho moved slowly. He wasn’t in a rush. “Fuck you are taking me so fucking well.”

Were you? You dared to steal a glance at his face. His mouth hung open and his hazy, dark eyes were fixated on what his hand was doing to you. You could see how aroused this was making him, and it made you want to take every inch of him.

Laying your head back down on the cushion you immersed yourself in the feeling of him stretching you further as his fingers buried deeper. It was overwhelming, but addictive. You allowed yourself to moan loudly and cry out as the sensations intensified. You thought he was buried all the way in, but somehow he inched in even further.

“Fuck! Oh…uh…shit…” you cried out louder than ever.

You had lost any sense of your surroundings, the only thing you could focus on was the sensations in your body. You felt drunk and light headed as all the blood flow was down the other end. You felt like you were swimming in euphoria.

“That’s it… you look so fucking beautiful taking this. But I think you can take more.” Said Minho.

Then you registered his fingers on your other entrance. Jesus Christ, what was he going to do?

“Your pretty little hole is begging me to stretch it too.” He said smoothly, and he pushed his finger past the rim.

It seemed it really was begging to be stretched because you moaned with such relief that you were almost about to cry tears.

Satisfied, Minho moved up to two fingers. It burned, but it felt incredible.

“I told you the pain would feel exquisite, didn’t I?” He cooed.

“Yes!” you practically screamed. In fact you were sure that the party downstairs could hear your cries of pleasure.

You squeezed your eyes tight and gripped the cushion, and now that he was fully inside of you, your hips started to rock for more friction.

“Hmm you’re ready for me to really finger fuck you now?”

God. Yes.

You expected him to start thrusting his hand in and out of you, instead it was more of a grind, aiming and digging his fingers forcefully into your sensitive g-spot.

He removed his fingers from your ass and you whined, but he was back with more, you weren’t sure how many, and you didn’t dare to look. Instead you lost yourself to Minho, surrendering to him as he played with you.

His mouth somehow found your clitoris, his mouth hot and hungry. You were writhing and bucking up into his face and hands. You felt like you were going to choke because your could hardly breath. Your back arched and your cries became screams as your body stiffened then convulsed around the man between your legs.

You felt a sudden, forceful release on top of your orgasm. Shit! You thought you’d peed yourself. Your eyes shot open and you looked down to find Minho who was lapping up all of your juices. You were horrified.

Minho looked up pleased with himself. “Fuck, I’d never seen a woman squirt before!”.

Holy fuck. You ejaculated?

Before you had a chance to process what had just happened, Minho removed his fingers from you and crawled up to you face and hovered above you.

“Taste yourself.” He whispered and crashed his lips on yours. This was the first ravenous and messy kiss you’d shared.

“Lick these clean for me, little plaything.” He said and pushed all four fingers that had just been buried in your pussy into your mouth. You eagerly took them, greedily sucking your wetness off of his perfect fingers.

“Minho?” you held his face in your hands.

“Yeah, beautiful?” he smiled and kissed your neck.

“I need you to fuck me. I…just…just can’t get enough of you.” You couldn’t help admitting how you felt. It wasn’t like you to be this vulnerable, but Minho had literally and figuratively opened you up, exposing you and there were no more walls to hide behind.

Minho’s smile turned into a smirk.

“Okay,” he kissed your cheek. “But I fuck rough.” He said stroking your face.

“I can take it.” You pant.

Minho raised an eyebrow “Of course you will, beautiful. I’ll make you take it.” He said low.

With one hand Minho gripped your wrists and pinned them above your head. You looked down as he grasped his cock in his other hand, giving it a few good pumps, not that he needed to. His cock was throbbing and so hard it looked painful.

He was probably around the same length as Hyunjin, but a with a little more girth. You remembered how hard it was to take him, and you swore you felt your cervix beg you to stop this instant.

But you didn’t want to stop. For some reason you trusted Minho with your body. You knew that he’d know how to fuck you properly.

Both you and Minho watched his cock slam into your vagina in one thrust. He cried out a low groan and closed his eyes. He absolutely ravished your neck, your breasts, your mouth, sucking and biting you as he slammed into you at a brutal pace. You tasted blood on his mouth as he kissed you. He must have broken some skin, but you weren’t sure where. You didn’t care. The pain felt good. The pain did feel… exquisite.

Minho hovered above you, your hands were still pinned above your head as he stroked your cheek with the other. He locked his eyes on yours as he slid his hand down to your neck and loosely gripping it.

His mouth was hung open again, and you could see a tiny smear of blood on the corner of his lip. His cheeks were flushed pink like he was drunk, and his eyes… they weren’t evil or malicious, but they were deadly.

You weren’t frightened, you were excited. Having this man’s hand around your neck while he was pinning you down and fucking you was the most erotic and thrilling thing you’ve ever experienced. How would you ever go back to vanilla sex?

“Choke me, Minho.” You didn’t recognise your voice. It didn’t sound like it came from you. But every fibre of being wanted him to completely own you. Every part of you wanted to be his plaything.

A flash of doubt crossed Minho’s face, but it was only for a second. The deadly expression returning as his fingers squeezed around your neck. He let go of your hands to prop himself up on his elbow so he could focus on your face properly. You felt lightheaded, but you could still breath, you just couldn’t get a full breath in. Minho didn’t take his eyes off yours, and when he was satisfied that he wasn’t squeezing too hard, he began to fuck you again. Brutally. Relentlessly. Unforgivingly.

He slammed into your cervix and forced his entire length inside of you on each thrust. But it didn’t feel like when Hyunjin was bruising your cervix, you wanted this, you welcomed it. It felt good.

Your hands explored Minho’s sweaty body, his muscles flexing and moving underneath your fingertips. The man was strong but also flexible, and he moved like a dancer above you, while he grunted like a wild animal on every thrust. And you mewled every time he punched into your cervix.

Minho experimented with his grip on your neck. He’d squeeze a little tighter and watch you reaction, or he’d loosen it and caress you tenderly. You felt yourself go tingly and thought you were going to float away. Other times you thought you were going to pass out. But you never did. Minho somehow knew your limits, and would only dance on the edge of them, never taking you beyond what you could manage.

“Come for me.” He commanded softly, and you fucking did, pulsing around his cock and shaking uncontrollably. It was like you really were his plaything, responding to his every whim.

Suddenly, Minho growled like a beast, and leaned back on his knees, letting go of your neck. He hooked your legs over his shoulder and lifted your hips up to meet his.

You thought he was fucking you rough before, but he kicked it up to another level as he chased his orgasm. Just the sight of him losing control brought on another one for you and then you felt him. His hot pulsing release, marking you, owning you. Ruining you.

He slumped back down on you, laying there wordless for a full five minutes.

Eventually, he propped himself up above you and kissed you just like he did earlier. A slow, careful, meaningful kiss. He peeled away and smiled like he was the luckiest man alive, and you grinned back at him. He looked happy. You were happy.

“That was pretty incredible.” He said kissing you again. “I’m not sure I could ever have someone else after that. I think you might have wrecked me” He added.

You felt your heart race, even though you knew he was just saying that because he'd just had sex with you.

“Well… it was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had!” you laughed.

“Aren’t you glad I let you be my plaything then?” he teased.

“Aren’t you glad you begged me?” you challenged.

Minho pulled out of you and got up to get his phone, the sat himself back on the couch, pulling your legs across his lap.

He dialed a number and put the phone to his ear. “Hey! Yeah, can you bring some food and drinks up to me? Yeah anything’s fine..” He said, then hung up.

“You’re probably starving after that. I know I am.”

Now that you thought about it, you were hungry, and thirsty. You sat up and made for your clothes, but Minho caught your arm. “Hey, we’re far from finished you know?” he said.

Oh. “But I thought… with the food coming…”

Minho chuckled softly and shook his head.

“We’re gonna eat, catch our breath…” he leaned in close. “And then you’re going to do to me exactly what you did to Hyunjin and Changbin.”

@channieandhisgoonsquad @itshannjisung @noellllslut @kangnina @weareapackofstrays @newhope8 @sunshinesquokka @queenmea604

[moirindeclermont]

Daily thread about BridgertonS3 because my hyperfixation is not bad enough as it is 😂

I saw some male reactors and some posts on other social media, claiming that Colin's face here is "cringe"

Now, let me felt this straight: if any man would pull that face with me, I would melt on the spot and give him my first born son.

But the part that interest me as a social science researcher, is why some people react to this as cringe. Why such an open and incredibly raw and unfiltered expression of love, connection and devotion is labeled as cringe?

Colin, as a character, is incredibly in tune with his inner self (even more incredible considering this is the type of internal conflict usually reserved to female characters but let's keep this for another thread), so once he is clear about how he feels, he just give himself to the emotion he is feeling.

And the show inform us of this through showing (facial expressions, body language) and through telling (Violet's line about armor). So, why when the show does deliver its promise, it's perceived as unexpected and cringe?

One thing I can think about is that some people are afraid of vulnerability, thus expressing emotions in such a raw way becomes unthinkable. And this is particularly interesting because, in contrast, Pen's pleasure and emotions through the carriage scene are as explicit and vulnerable as Colin's, but the reaction to them is very different.

So, the question becomes why some people perceive as cringe man's expression of a strong emotion? It might be that, as society, we are taught that male presenting people can only show emotions in a standard way?

I think it's so refreshing seeing a male lead being in tune with his emotions, that once has realized his feelings just gather his courage and communicate them, and that - once he knows - those feelings are reciprocate has no trouble whatsoever in showing them as openly and enthusiastically as possible.

In conclusion, we need more male leads like Colin. And more men who are not afraid of showing their inner self with their significant others.

[phntmeii]

♡ Dating Jaime Lannister Headcanons:

❝ He kept saying… burn them all. ❝

[SFW + No Gendered Terms]

General Warnings: Angst with comfort, Trauma, Mentions of Incest, Mentions of torture, Mentions of sex

A/N: Sadly this got taken down before so this is a redone version :( This isn’t an identical list to the previous one but hopefully more detailed!!

Redemption Era:

> Jaime has been through hell and back. The disillusionment of everything he ever pushed away setting in and he doesn’t feel worthy anymore.

> He could masquerade his regrets with his ego for so long. Failing innocent after innocent, he could hold himself in high regard for the one thing people shames him for most: Being a Kingslayer, as he knew it was for a good reason.

> But being so long away from his family for months on end, being a captive prisoner who was constantly berated and abused, and being mutilated, he’s become a shell of himself.

> Being with him in these moments is an uphill battle because he simultaneously craves being loved but pushes you away constantly.

> He doesn’t know how to be loved outside of how Cersei treated him. After all, he was infatuated with his sister but it was a constant toxic push-and-pull relationship.

> Jaime is more closed-off, more stoic and perhaps a more temperamental even. He would hesitate to even entertain the idea of intimacy with anyone.

> Then those feelings start to build and he’s confused. He’s not an idiot nor blind—he knows when someone is objectively attractive but he’s never acted on intimate feelings because he was loyal to Cersei. But now he’s treated with disgust for his lacking hand and you’re still there.

> Jaime would simply stare for a while at you. Trying to figure out why you. Why couldn’t his eyes keep away from you?

> He would imagine what it would feel like to be with you behind closed doors. To hold you and touch you when everything and everyone was shut out besides you two. But who wants a one-handed man?

> You would have to be the one to initiate. He’d hesitate and flinch away at the close contact at first before giving in and softly meeting your lips.

> He's incredibly gentle with you. It's as though he worries he could break you with the slightest touch.

> "It is not that I wish to be away from you. But I feel as though... I do not understand how to love the right way anymore."

> Jaime is slow to open up, if ever within the first few months and it's understandable as to why. Even in this state, he has more faith in you than anyone else.

> Jaime's main Love Languages are: Acts of Service and Quality Time.

> Jaime wants to feel useful even with his missing arm. If he can do something for you even without it, he considers it “proving his worth”. :(

> This can be any sort of thing that he can be of assistance in so long as it helps you out in some way.

> Jaime would be more than happy if you asked him for help in something. He's dropping everything he's doing for you immediately.

> This would also include in the bedroom. Highly doubt Cersei wouldn’t have taught Jaime what felt good for women or not so he’s quite proficient in pleasing you. It’s one of those moments where he can brag.

> “Still good with this hand, love, don’t you worry.”

> While he can be busy or taken up by his duties, that is why quality time is so important to him. He wants specific, well-thought out, dedicated time just for the two of you.

> Often times, it may be a lunch or dinner of sorts. It's time just for the two of you to talk with no interruptions.

> He's also a fan of the lingering moments after bedding, wrapped in each other's arms. There's something about the warmth of each other's bodies in the after-bliss that just melts him.

> Jaime’s favorite Love Languages to receive are: Physical Touch and Words of Affirmation.

> Unfortunately, due to Cersei’s treatment of Jaime through their own relationship, Jaime values himself through sexuality.

> He feels something is wrong if sex is not on the table at each interaction you two have. It takes a while for this to be unraveled.

> Touching him in an intimate and romantic manner: holding his cheek, brushing through his hair with your fingers, kissing his scars, etc. has him confused.

> He stares for a while blankly and can feel himself for once feel something he hasn’t in a long while: fear. Such affections were unknown to him in the way you did them. They weren’t for favors, manipulations, or to be used for selfish gratifications. They were for him to know he’s loved.

> Jaime can honestly cry at this. Just going limp in his posing rather than having his shoulders back and head high and planting his head into your chest or on your shoulder and silently crying.

> Another thing is reminders on how loved he is. He’s more uncertain of himself. He is still a Lannister, don’t get me wrong. He keeps an ego and level of confidence to him. But he’s not sure as to if he’s doing well by you.

> A compliment on his sword skills while he’s sparring has him returning to that cocky grin he always used to have while brushing it off as nothing. Inside, he feels warmth in his chest that he’s still good at that with his left hand.

> Admiring his body even with his missing hand is initially met with disbelief and disregard. No one looks at a one-handed man and says anything good. Slowly over time with you though, and it puts a warm smile on his face.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

[yappyappyapp]

Obsessed "Baby, Only You!" It filled every inch of my heart with love! May I ask what your fave Beatles album and song are? Mine are Revolver and "Dear Prudence." May I also please make a request for Jack Hughes? Anything more with him and a more stoic/quiet in public girl, would love to see where your incredible mind takes you. The way he understands and defends is just...yes! I needed that lol. Please and thank you!

i’d do it a hundred more.

(JACK HUGHES x reader)

hey!! thank you so so so much literally this made my day. 🫶🏻

my fav beatle albums def are sgt peppers and help (i adore the movie), and my fav songs are the long and winding road, i want you (she’s so heavy), across the universe, sgt pepper’s lonely hearts club band and julia :))

warnings: no mature subjects, fluff, no proofread (you can tell i never proofread my stuff)

—————

you had always been a quiet kid, stoic and stern looking. that obviously lead to you having a resting bitch face, making not many people approach your phlegmatic gaze.

not many kids were your friends, forcing you to turn your back to society and do things yourself, cold walls lifting to sternly keep out outsiders.

that was,

until jack. he melted those ice walls, wiggling himself in a short period of time, to be the centre of your universe. you fell in love with this man, the way his wide smile made your lips curl into a grin, the way his blue eyed gaze was boyish and gentle, the way he reassured you when a girl tried to get his number and hit on him, he stood up for you, most important of all. he was your everything.

he understood everything about you, your reactions, how you felt in public and how you were the most loud and outgoing person on the inside, when it was just them two, locked away giggling together.

jack held your heart and kept it protected, he knew your past, and you like the back of his hand, so he made it his part to protect you from jabs that people made.

one of his teammates girlfriends took a shot in mocking you and jack was sure to glare at her and tell her off.

“why do you look like that? you aren’t even in jacks league. don’t even pretend you aren’t not trying in the relationship.” the girlfriend snootily said, her boyfriend did nothing in reply to defend you. you glanced towards jack and could see him get angry, so you squeezed his knee, but he still started to yell at the girl, making her jaw drop and her eyes open wide.

“you don’t know her!”

“don’t ever speak about her in that way!”

“don’t speak on our relationship!”

jack roughly grabbed your hand and walked you out.

“you didn’t have to do that.” you said quietly, kicking some tiny rocks on the pavement with your shoe.

“for you? i’d do it a hundred more times.”

—————

sorry if this ain’t any good but

🫶🏻❤️🤍

[lycheedr3ams]

Okay. I just had to tell you that the emotionally unavailable König piece stays on my mf*ing mind. I don't know how but you managed to stir a dragon or corrupt me, I don't know, I need therapy I know but I feel so addicted to that drabble. I've read it over and over again.

Like, the little details how he treats you purely professionally when you're not fucking, how he wraps himself with that condom every single time and doesn't even feel bothered, how he chooses solitude (or someone else who knows) over you whenever he wants, how he doesn't seem to even feel much of anything besides the occasional lust?! It's DEVASTATING and I'm frothing at the mouth. I need help haha

Oh and even the pic at the top, that lonely ethereal unseen message "I dream about kissing you often". Wtf dude. Jesus Christ.

Brilliant. I'm just. Out of words. That drabble is art, thank you for sharing ❤️❤️‍🩹❤️ (Also please wish me a speedy recovery)

i think you have just melted my heart❤️❤️❤️

it is a huge compliment for me when people say they reread my fics. this ask has given me inspiration to do a drabble of the situation from könig's perspective.

warning: this may break your heart too...

part 2 of Relapse

part 3

TW: mentions of NSFW below the cut, self-hatred, könig being kinda toxic, brief brief mention of self harm, mentions of canon-typical violence, obsessive!könig, MDNI and just block me atp

the moment könig laid eyes on you, the task force's incredibly skilled - and beautiful - sniper, he hated you. or rather, he hated how much he was obsessed with you. he wasn't stupid; he knew how all the men on base would stare at you, the way they'd talk about you as you walked by, not even realizing how good your ass and hips looked in your uniform cargo pants. but unlike most guys on base, he saw more than just your curves and feminine charm: he saw a soldier who gave her all to get to where she was, a soldier who dedicated her entire being to her profession and was damn good at it.

unlike him, you never so much as moved a muscle when you lay prone with your sniper rifle. you never fumbled while you reloaded or looked around anxiously, fiddling with a knife so your hands never felt empty. you interacted with others with ease, never seeming to second-guess your words or demeanor. you were the best shot on the task force (don't tell ghost, though), you had the best concentration, and you were irreplaceable. sure, könig was irreplaceable too: no one had his aura, his physical prowess, or his intensity that made enemies flee the moment he saw them. but to könig, that didn't matter: you were everything he could never be.

he knew - thought - that he had no chance with you. you were secretly desired by almost every man on base, so why would you choose him? the jittery and intense newest addition who was just a little too tall, who fidgeted a little too much, and whose accent, he thought, was a little too thick to be alluring. but he also just hated you. hated to see a little woman like yourself literally living his dream of being a sniper. he was usually assigned to guard you when you lay prone while sniping on a mission, and when könig was sure you weren't paying attention, he would glare angrily at you, staring daggers into the back of your head. his eyes would lazily take in your body, but not in a lustful way. könig hated how still you could lay, how you could just concentrate simply on what was through your scope rather than what was in your mind.

but könig couldn't deny the part of himself that just simply wanted to take you. despite how much he hated your skill, he couldn't deny your soft curves, your pretty smile, or how you always wore your favorite perfume when off duty. many nights when könig lay alone in his room on base, he would furiously jerk off the thought of you while clenching his teeth in self-hate, absolutely disgusted with himself for desiring the person who was everything he could never be. könig also hated the way he would come so hard to the thought of forcing you on your knees, making you take all of his throbbing cock in your mouth, fucking into your throat roughly, punishing you for being the soldier he could never be. he loved to imagine the tears that would spring in your eyes at the burn of his thick cock stretching your throat. but worst of all, könig hated himself for wanting to ruin such a pretty little thing like you.

that was, until you began talking to him. the first time you approached könig, you said you were curious about his knives. he froze, thankful that his sniper hood hid his almost blushing cheeks and agape mouth. but könig couldn't help the excitement of your question. someone was interested in something he liked? with quiet, jittery movements, he quickly took out one of his favorite knives from a pants pocket and shoved it almost right in your hands, talking about it wildly in german before you looked up at him with a confused smile. he blushed under his hood and began to speak calmly and quietly in english about his favorite knife that you now held in your small, soft hands. even when you handed the knife back to him after learning all about it, the warmth from your skin lingered on its cold hilt. könig's eyes widened slightly when he felt just how warm it was, and he couldn't help but wonder what other parts of your body were just as warm, or even warmer.

könig began to grow more and more at ease the more you approached him. the night that your conversation ended up with you naked on his bed, he truly thought he was living a dream. the way your soft, feminine curves lay on his bed in his room, how you looked like an absolute goddess surrounded by his knives and guns lying around, was mesmerizing to him. his hatred of you be damned, könig needed you. so he took you just like you wanted and craved.

but even though you had willingly spread your soft, wet folds for him, könig could never bring himself to voice his desires for you. so the next time he saw you in the hallway, his eyes widened as he slowly approached your form, unaware that he was behind you. könig tried to open his mouth to say something - anything - but his mouth went dry and his throat tightened. so instead, he decided to gently cup your waist as you walked past, and went right towards his room. you smiled to yourself and followed him. könig was grateful that no words were needed between you two.

but despite how much he loved being able to be so close to you, to touch you, to be inside you, he could never allow himself to get too close. könig would've rather slit his own wrist than kiss your glossy, warm lips. you were a succubus, he was convinced. if his lips touched yours, he would have been yours forever. and that was something he could not have, no, not with how his hatred for you still lingered in the back of his mind. but the way you'd look sad about his lips never touching yours would make his heart twitch, just a little. some nights könig was so desperate to feel your skin on his tongue that he would gently lick your neck or your breasts, just to get a taste. but könig was used to living without the things he wanted.

there were many nights when könig was too deep within his darkness to reach out to you. he couldn't bring you down into his self-loathing spiral, or show you his weaknesses. on the nights he walked by you without even acknowledging your existence, he simply couldn't bring himself to look at you. if he did, he knew he would budge instantly and gently touch your waist once again so he could take solace in your warm, soft walls. but no, he would rather drown himself in the abyss of his heart than bring you down with him. you had things to live for: friends, family, incredible skill. but könig only had his guns, knives, and a large hand to wrap around his aching length. he never slept with another woman on base. but you were not to know that.

even more so, könig took to the box of condoms like a lifeline. if he kissed you, you'd have his soul. but if he allowed his cock to be fully surrounded by your warm, wet walls? no, no. you would've tied him to you for eternity. that was something that könig could not have, no matter how much he wanted it. he always made sure that condom was on perfectly, making sure that not a single inch of the skin of his cock ever completely touched your walls. even when he would tease the tip of his cock on your clit, there was a layer of thin plastic separating you. (he just loved the way you would gasp and blush when he did that). könig would never allow himself to truly take absolute pleasure in you, no matter how badly he just wanted to fill your womb entirely with him when your legs were pried open perfectly against his broad shoulders, with his sweaty forehead pressing into the mattress.

but as your relationship - if it could be called that - went on, könig realized that he never hated you. he only hated himself for never being able to be the person he wanted to be. you were everything, and he was nothing. you were caring, friendly, warm. but he saw himself as distant, cold, and aloof. sunshine could never reach the deepest, darkest caves under the earth, he thought. what could könig even say to you now, after you two had been with each other time and time again? what could he possibly say to the woman who unknowingly ripped apart old wounds he thought he had stitched? what could he say to the woman who achieved everything he could not? what could he say to the only woman who had ever shown him kindness, the only woman to have ever let him touch her, hold her, fuck her? so, könig opted to only ever say things to you that were necessary to work with you. he could never treat you poorly, not after the way you unknowingly healed the very wounds you created for him, not after the way you welcomed him into your body like he was an extension of yourself.

it was easier for könig to pretend that you weren't somewhat emotionally dependent on him. he could never pluck the flower whose roots were shallow. he was a monster enough as it is, but to just trample and rip up an innocent and beautiful thing? even he couldn't bring himself to do that. so, könig tried to water you in the only way he knew how, but he guarded his life-giving waters from your fertile womb, and only ever teased you with the nutrients you needed. it was enough to make you come back for more whenever he asked for it, but he couldn't allow himself to take advantage of you, too much. könig wanted to see you grow and blossom, not to be the one to dry you out and wither you.

so könig chose to edge you with his affection whenever he chose, and hoped that you would understand. he hoped that you wouldn't grow tired of the balm he offered you on the nights that he was able to crawl out of himself; the balm that was covered in blood and semen and tears.

[fictionalwh0ree]

golden globes- austin butler

gif creds to @dearaustinbutler

summary: you embarrassingly crash into your celebrity crush at the golden globes and then, by what seems like fate, get seated right next to him.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: none

pt. 2

you clutched onto your long dress, lifting it slightly as you climbed up the few stairs of the golden globes red carpet. the area was filled with people; staff and celebrities, some you knew, others, you didn’t. the clicking of the paparazzi you had just moved past on the carpet was still in earshot and the abundance of cameras everywhere was not helping your nerves. being a shy person who caught a big break and had your life flipped upside down almost overnight, you were left with no time to adjust.

one of the staff began to guide you to the two interviewers who were currently standing alone. you collected yourself and took a deep breath as you walked towards them. you noticed the woman signaling to the cameras. you smiled widely as they greeted you. once past formalities and compliments, they moved to ask you questions about the movie that had gotten you nominated for best actress in a drama motion picture.

finally, the brief interview was reaching its end and they asked their last question.

“is there any celebrity you’re hoping to meet while you’re here?” the woman asked.

“umm,” you began, giggling a little as you thought.

“maybe natasha lyonne. i love but i’m a cheerleader. it’s one of my favourites, and orange is the new black,” you continued, “and also, i feel like this is really basic, but austin butler. i mean elvis was just, incredible. i really admire his dedication to his role and just how much effort he put into making that movie.”

“i agree completely. good luck,” the man concluded.

you gave them both a short hug before walking off and waiting for another member of the staff to guide you into the actual room. you checked in and were given your table and seat number on a paper. you began to walk between the busy tables in search of your own. your head swivelled from side to side as you looked at the placeholders, when suddenly, you crashed into a tall figure in front of you. you immediately stepped back and before he could even turn around, you were apologizing, your cheeks heating up.

“i’m so sorry,” you said, wide-eyed.

“it’s all good,” the man, you now recognized as the austin butler, said.

your jaw dropped slightly as you stared. as if crashing into some stranger at your first golden globes wasn’t embarrassing enough, it just had to be him. not only did you love elvis, but you’d begun to harbour a small crush on the man. yes, you’d said you’d wanted to meet him in your interview, but did you totally mean it? no. especially not this way. you realized that you were staring when a smile began to tug at austin’s lips and he tipped his head forward slightly, waiting for you to speak again.

“i’m really really sorry,” you began.

“i was just looking for my seat and i wasn’t looking where i was going. this is my first time here, not that i didn’t make that obvious enough by crashing into you like an idiot and all,” you rambled, not able to meet his eyes.

“it’s okay, really,” he laughed, “here, let me help you find your seat.”

he moved to stand next to you as you pulled your paper out. his entire left arm was pressed against yours and he held one side of the tiny paper, you holding the other. he leaned down as well, his head now near yours as he examined the paper, squinting slightly.

“you’re in luck,” he said, “i’m sitting at the same table.”

he smiled at you and you smiled back weakly, trying to hide the fact that you felt like you were going to melt out of embarrassment. you followed him as he walked between the tables until slowing down.

“i think our table is right… here,” he said, coming to a stop.

he pulled your chair out from under for you and signalled for you to sit. you did just that and he proceeded to push your chair in before he took his own seat, right by your side.

“thank you,” you said, turning towards him.

“no problem,” he responded.

“i’m y/n, by the way,” you said.

“yeah, uh, i know,” he said laughing nervously, his cheeks taking on a pink tint.

“i watched your movie, it was amazing. you were incredible,” he continued, the compliment making that familiar heat rise to your cheeks yet again.

“thank you,” you said shyly, “i watched elvis, too.”

“did you enjoy it?” he asked expectingly.

“yes! oh my god, yes. i mean, i was always a fan of his music and the movie just made it better. not to mention, you were amazing,” you said.

“thank you,” austin said, his voice deep and thick with a hint of elvis’s accent still remaining.

jerrod carmichael, the host for the evening, called everyone’s attention to announce that the awards ceremony would be starting in five minutes.

“i haven’t met that many people nowadays that were fans of elvis before the movie,” austin spoke again after the brief interruption.

“i love his music. i have a bunch of his vinyls. i don’t really care how many times i have his songs repeated on different albums, i always buy them,” you said.

“you collect records?” he asked, intrigued, to which you nodded.

“so i’m assuming you like old music?” he asked.

“i love it,” you answered, “old rock mostly. elvis, the kinks, hendrix, zeppelin, motley crue, joan jett, y’know? all that stuff.”

“oh wow. you have records for all of them?” he asked curiously.

“yeah,” you confirmed, “do you collect?”

“i started, but i can guarantee your collection is way better than mine,” he said, laughing lightly.

“oh, i’m sure you have a good collection too,” you assured, causing him to laugh.

“no no,” he said, still laughing, causing you to laugh too.

“it can’t be that bad,” you said, smiling widely.

“well considering it’s mostly hand-me-down shitty yacht rock and hall and oates, i’d say it is,” he smiled.

“hey, don’t shit on hall and oates,” you said playfully.

“alright, alright,” he said, an amused look in his eyes, “you’re right, hall and oates is good.”

“that’s better,” you laughed.

“y’know, i’d really love to see your collection,” austin spoke, a hint of shyness in his voice and a pink hue reaching his cheeks again.

“here, i’ll give you my number and we’ll arrange it,” you smirked.

“okay then,” he said, satisfied with himself as he pulled his phone out and handed it to you.

you typed in your name and number, trying to suppress the jitters you had from the fact that you were giving your celebrity crush your phone number.

the lights dimmed and the crowd went silent, marking the beginning of the eventful night, and although you were at the golden globes, you couldn’t wait for it to be over so he would text you.