#the way the light filters through the tree leaves

[someonelol1872]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐚𝐜, ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ♡"𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬"⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

𝕿𝖜𝖔 𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖔𝖋𝖋 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉, 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊'𝖘 𝖘𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖆 𝖑𝖔𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖊𝖊, 𝖂𝖊'𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖆𝖒𝖊 𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖇𝖔𝖜'𝖘 𝖊𝖓𝖉, 𝖂𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖓𝖉, 𝕸𝖞 𝖍𝖚𝖈𝖐𝖑𝖊𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉, 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖗𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖊 -Audrey Hepburn, Moon River, (from Breakfast at Tiffany's)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Isaac's estate was expansive, adorned with lush gardens, winding paths, and a tranquil lake that mirrored the sky. Ever since you arrived, Isaac had been wary of letting you venture beyond the confines of his home. The traumatic memories of losing his parents had made him overly cautious about your safety. Yet, he could see how being cooped up inside day after day weighed on you. You longed for fresh air and the simple joy of the outdoors.

One bright morning, after much internal debate, Isaac made up his mind.

The sun shone brilliantly, birds sang harmoniously, and the flowers were in full bloom. Your excitement was contagious, and Isaac found himself relaxing as you walked hand in hand. He grabbed a blanket and a couple of books, and the two of you made your way to the lake. The day was warm, the sky a brilliant blue with fluffy clouds drifting lazily across it, the sunlight filtering through the trees, casting a golden glow over everything.

As you reached the lake, you gasped in delight. The water sparkled under the sun, surrounded by lush greenery and wildflowers. Isaac spread the blanket on a grassy spot near the water, and you settled down, basking in the serene beauty of the place. He laid the blanket under a large oak tree, and you marveled at the tranquil water, its surface shimmering in the sunlight. Isaac unpacked a basket while you wandered around, picking wildflowers.

Isaac opened a book, his mind half on the words and half on your delighted expressions as you explored the surroundings. You returned with an armful of blooms and sat down next to him, weaving them into a crown. The flower crown featured an artful blend of white daisies, sprigs of lavender, golden buttercups, and pale pink wild roses. Tiny clusters of baby's breath filled in the gaps, all woven together with slender vines and green leaves.

After a while, you finished your flower crown and turned to Isaac, who was absorbed in his reading. With a playful smile, you crept up behind him and gently placed the crown on his head.

"W-What? Oh—" He chuckled, feeling warmth spread through his chest. "I feel a bit ridiculous, but if it makes you happy, I'll wear it."

You rolled your eyes playfully, "You look adorable," you said, before frolicking to another flower field, your laughter echoing through the garden. Isaac couldn't help but smile fondly. He reached up and gently took the flower crown off his head, holding it delicately between his fingers. Studying the intricate arrangement of blooms, he couldn't shake the feeling of warmth that enveloped him. It wasn't just the flower crown—it was the joy in your eyes when you placed it on his head, the carefree laughter that filled the air, and the simple happiness of being together in this tranquil garden.

You spotted a dandelion and, with a soft gasp of delight, knelt down, your fingers delicately plucking one of the fluffy white seed heads from its stem. Cradling it in your palm, you turned to Isaac, a playful gleam dancing in your eyes.

"Isaac, close your eyes," you whispered, your voice as light as a feather.

Isaac complied, the corners of his lips curling into a smile as he anticipated the surprise. He felt a gentle rustle of air, followed by a soft puff against his cheek as you blew on the dandelion.

As he opened his eyes, he was greeted by a shower of delicate white seeds, floating through the air and his ebony hair like ethereal snowflakes. They danced around him, catching the golden rays of sunlight and casting a magical glow over the garden.

"Oh, Pickle..." he murmured, his voice filled with a tender affection. The moment was perfect, a snapshot of pure, unblemished happiness, a day neither of you would ever forget. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

[gh0stbunnii]

[headspace-hotel]

nature things that a lot of people don't know about and weren't even taught about adequately, but they're actually really fundamental and important to know about

how rivers work. Where do they get started? how do they decide which way to flow?? what makes one river muddy and the other one clear?

[They flow downhill. Always. If a river is flowing a Way, that way is Downhill. They start with rain flowing or soaking downhill until it forms into a little trickle through a channel like a gully or drainage ditch, and the farther it flows the more other trickles flow into it from the land around it, until you have a stream, and the streams all flow downhill until they run into each other, and eventually you have a river which finally reaches the ocean. Rivers never flow FROM the ocean because the ocean is the most downhill you can possibly go. I don't think rivers usually split in two—a fork in a waterway is usually two rivers joining together.]

[On the subject of pollution, rain is usually supposed to soak slowly through the layer of leaves, roots, and dead plant material that covers most biomes. But if you tear up the plants and leave bare mud, or replace a forest with a muddy cow pasture, there's no filter, and mud and contaminants wash into the river. Just plain mud can be pollution.]

how soil works. What makes different soils different? Why are some soils good for growing a garden and others terrible? Does it need more fertilizer?

[The sand, silt, clay diagram is very simplified and only deals with one aspect of soil. Roots, soil animals, fungi, and dead plant material are all part of soil and affect its structure, making it spongy and full of holes and passages for nutrients, water, and new roots. Tilling can break hard soil, but tilling doesn't make soil light, fluffy, and permeable—disturbing the soil as little as possible, protecting it with a layer of plant material, and allowing the natural life forms of the soil develop their networks and tunnels and slowly break down the plant material layer does. This is also very simplified. Soil is COMPLICATED.]

what fungi are, and whether they are dangerous.

[fungi cannot harm you unless you eat them or unless they're growing inside your house and you're inhaling their spores in a concentrated space. There's like, one species in Japan that causes skin irritation. You can touch any other species without any harm whatsoever. *Most* of them don't harm your garden either—in fact, most plants connect their root systems to the fungal mycelium in the soil and receive nutrients from the fungus in exchange for the products of photosynthesis.]

Whether lichen harm trees

[no. They're just hanging out. But a LOT of lichen on a tree might be a sign that the tree is dying. It's not the lichen's fault though.]

What moss is??

[it's a plant, but a very simple plant that doesn't have any vessels for transporting water, so it has to live somewhere damp and soak it up like a sponge. There are hundreds of species of moss, and different species live on the side of a boulder vs. the top, or a living tree trunk vs. a fallen dead tree trunk!]

where bugs go in the winter? I straight up had a book as a kid that told me that they just die, without explaining how the species doesn't go extinct if the winter kills them all.

[Tl;dr they're usually hibernating in fallen leaves and dead wood and plant material. Some do this as eggs or larvae/caterpillars; in this case the adults do die, but their children sleep peacefully through the winter to awake in the spring. And still others hibernate as adults. This is why you don't clean up your flower beds until late spring.]

How Many plants there are

[WAY more than you think]

How ecosystems work apart from "everything is out to get everything else and take resources from other organisms."

[Competition and cooperation are both important in ecosystems! Weeds are competitive and they can choke out other plants, but they also protect the soil from erosion and harsh sunlight, keeping it moist and helping organic matter to build up. A lot of plants, when they're young, need to be sheltered by other plants that protect them from dryness, heat, and herbivores. This isn't even getting into how some plants will send nutrients to seedlings or to understory plants in a forest! Before industrial agriculture made monocultures dominant, people used and were familiar with cooperative relationships between plants a LOT more.]

The range of creatures that are pollinators, and how important the variety is.

[Bees, wasps, butterflies, moths, flies, ants, beetles, hummingbirds, and bats are all pollinators, and flowers are usually shaped and colored and scented to attract particular pollinators. Bees can't do everything, and honey bees are only one kind of bee. Red flowers and long tube shaped flowers are often for hummingbirds, pale-colored flowers that open at night need moths, and flowers that give off strong foul odors often attract flies. It gets WAY more complicated than that—sometimes a flower is only pollinated by a single species of bee or wasp or beetle.]

How many bees there are besides honey bees

[LOTS. And you've probably never seen most of them, if you don't regularly spend time around native plants! There are 140 species of longhorn bee alone, and most people haven't even heard of longhorn bees! There are well over a hundred bumble bees too! Bees come in bright, metallic green, blue, and pure gold. In the USA where I live, some of the most endangered bees are the adorable, fluffy bumble bees—the American Bumble Bee is threatened, and we have some species, like the rusty-patched bumble bee, that are critically endangered.]

[Please, please, please do not use pesticides on plants unless it is a necessity, and please do a LOT of research on the specific pesticide you are using and its effects on non-target insects. If there is any alternative, Do Not Do It. ESPECIALLY not pesticides that come in dust or powder form, ESPECIALLY in the USA, because regulations are so loose here that regular people can buy pesticides in dust form that are horribly toxic to bees.]

[How horribly toxic? A pesticide like Sevin dust will cling to the fuzz on every single bee that visits your plant—like pollen—and those bees will probably die. And in social bees, before they die, they will take the poison back to their hive (like pollen) and potentially kill the entire hive.]

[teddiesworldd]

after the world ends.

ghost finds you out in the woods during a zombie outbreak and falls in love with you. (2.6K words) read part 2 here!!!

a/n: this idea has been on my mind for a while and it was so sweet i just had to write it down and share it with you <3 also, if you'd like to be added to a taglist, let me know!

pairing: simon ghost riley x female reader

tags/warnings: nsfw, mdni!!, apocalypse au, mentions of weapons, killing (zombies), survival situation, unprotected p in v sex, cute fluffy stuff in the middle of a zombie apocalypse because why not?!, soap makes an appearance

day 17 of the apocalypse, 3 weeks after the first outbreak.

you had lasted this long purely by camping out in the back of your car, driving somewhere more remote to avoid the infected and rationing whatever you'd managed to bring in from your kitchen at the beginning of it all. but as supplies got low and you were down to your last water bottle, you were forced to venture out into the nearby woodland, gathering whatever you could forage from the streams and bushes. you knew absolutely nothing about surviving out here. you couldn’t hunt and could barely light a fire. the first day of winter was in less than a month and you had no real shelter to keep you warm. you had no idea which berries were safe to eat or how to filter water. all you had was your kitchen silverware for protection and your best winter jacket for the weather.

you’d last about 2 weeks out here at best, and that’s without the fucking zombies. 

you'd been walking for about an hour since leaving your car, and to be honest, you didn’t think you could find your way back now. everything looked the same. you had found only a pocketful of what you could only guess was edible, and a protein bar from the pocket of a dead guy’s jeans. every single noise scared the hell out of you. and the bite marks on his neck raised your adrenaline tenfold. 

thud. thud. snap.

footsteps. sticks breaking underfoot. 

“who’s there?” you called out. “i’m- i’m serious, come any closer and… and… i’ll kill you!”, shouting now, cold hand gripping your rusted kitchen knife tightly.

you saw a huge figure behind the trunk of a nearby tree, and he chuckled lowly at your brave attempt to scare him away. “you don’t scare me, sweetheart”, the voice said, deep and rough, walking out from behind the tree, “thought y'were a rabbit or something - cute lil' thing, rustling in those bushes. and if i was infected, you’d be dead by now, with a mouth on you like that.”

he was an absolute giant of a man, 6 and a half foot at least and built like a brick shithouse. he was in full military gear, skull mask over his face, armed with a rifle in hand and knives strapped to his chest and belt. he approached you slowly, palms facing you like he was trying not to spook a stray cat. part of you wondered if you were hallucinating - you'd not been sleeping well from the nightmares of the infected night after night.

“no use shouting, anyway - they’ll find you straight away making all that noise.” he continued, leaves crunching under his black boots, walking closer, “what’s a girl like you doing out 'ere, all alone?”

you were frozen in place, like a deer in headlights. he was already intimidating as fuck without the massive armoury hanging round his waist, but now he was so close you could feel his breath on your face. a thought crossed your mind that if he tried to kill you now, there would be absolutely nothing you could do to stop him. it made a shiver run down your back.

his gloved hand reached out to hold your chin. you looked up at him, eyes welling up from the pure fear that ran through you.

“lost?” he said quietly, tilting his head to get a proper look at you. 

you nodded slowly.

“well, you won’t get far with that old thing, love” he smirked through the mask, eyeing the blade in your hand. “here, i’ll take you back to camp with me, make you a proper meal, yeah? when did you eat last?”

you engaged in some light small talk on the way, finding out he was called “ghost” and he used to serve in a special operations unit for a private military company. i guess it made sense that the best survivors would be the soldiers. you mentioned how you’d been living in your car for the past two weeks, which seemed to amuse him. he probably thought you were just some dumb girl who’d somehow managed to scrape through until now.

he wasn’t wrong, really.

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

his camp was much nicer than the back of your car. 

it wasn't far from where he'd found you. they had lots of weapons and food and beds. and people. there must of been about 10 men in total. the infected weren’t really an issue with their impressive arsenal. there was a large fence surrounding the camp and the men took it in turns to kill anything that tried getting inside. it was pretty clear that ghost was closest to one of the other ex-military guys called "soap". they sat together when they ate and stayed up late at night talking together around the fire - matching dog tags glinting in the dim light. you often watched them through your tent door - enjoying their company but not wanting to interrupt their conversation. you listened as they talked deeply, recounting their time serving together, telling stories of bravery and bloodshed. it became your routine to fall asleep listening to them.

after about 3 or 4 weeks, following the first snowfall, you’d adjusted to life in the camp. soap had taught you a few things and often spent the mornings taking you hunting or showing you how to use the guns - a hand on your waist as he lined you up for the kill shot. he had a sweet nature and silly charm to him, telling you ridiculous jokes that only made you laugh because they were so stupid. you would never tell him that though - he thought you found him hilarious.

however, it was ghost you’d grown closest to, giving you anything and everything you needed. he was mysterious and that drew you to him. one time, he took you down to the river to wash the cookware and yourselves, and you'd caught a glimpse of him pulling off his clothes and mask, blonde hair and muscles seeing the light of day. you couldn't deny it - he was gorgeous.

he often checked on you in the evenings, making sure you’d settled in okay. he sat next to your bed, running a gloved hand over your hair, rubbing small circles into your scalp.

“you like the boys?” he’d ask, “they treating you okay?”

and you’d nod, just like you’d do every night.

“not scared, are you, doll?”

you shook your head.

“good. just making sure.”

and with that, he’d leave, heading to his own tent to rest, or out to guard the fence.

but one night, before he got up to get some sleep, you grabbed his hand. he looked back at you, dark eyes watching yours.

“stay?” you whispered.

and he did, without a word. stripping off his heavy gear and perching next to you in bed, rough camo trousers scratching against your bare shoulder. 

and he stayed, just like you asked. watching over you like a dog and keeping you safe.

sometime in the night, you’d turned to face him where he sat, resting an arm over his thigh. but he didn’t push you off. he just let you rest - your warm breath causing a dampness throughout the tent. 

it was only when the winter sunlight streamed through the tent that you realised he really did stay - all night. you opened your eyes to see he’d settled in next to you, his sleeping body alongside yours in the small camp bed, your arm still around him. 

and when you tried to pull yourself away out of embarrassment, he pulled it back, keeping it over his chest. 

“for warmth, yeah?” he said quietly, voice all deep and sleepy.

and how could you argue with that? these were trying times, after all. 

after a moment's silence, he said “you’re a pretty thing, love. always thought so, even when i first met you and you were all scared and dirty.” he continued, heavy eyes looking down at your vulnerable form. “soap thinks so too, but you’re mine, yeah? i found you - you’re mine.”

there was something about the possessive glint in his eye that showed you he really meant it - his gaze trailing down from your face to your uncovered hips that had shuffled out the sheets in your sleep.

"cm'ere" he said, taking your arm in his grasp and pulling you towards him. "i mean it, love. do you wan' to be mine?" eyes watching your face to see how you'd react to his question. your faces were close now, closer than they'd ever been. he'd looked after you so nicely, giving you everything you needed, protecting you from harm all this time. you couldn't help but agree with him. how could anyone not fall for this attractive man who cared for you so much? and the feeling of his chest under your hand made you fall for him even harder.

"yeah," you whispered against his masked face "...yours."

your small hand reached up to reveal his lips under his mask. he pulled you in, kissing you softly. it was short but there was so much behind it. you could tell he wanted more but he was holding back. he didn't want to accidentally push you away by moving too fast. he pulled back to look at you, hands cupping your soft face, which was still clouded with sleep.

"you're so beautiful, you know that?" he spoke so softly now. it was like the walls he'd put up had fell instantly. he just wanted a moment to be yours. no one else's. not the camp's cook or the guard or the hunter. just yours and nothing else.

you pulled yourself back to his face, kissing him again but soon moving your lips down to kiss his chin, and then his neck. but you didn't get far before he stopped you.

"no, no, love. let me take care of you - you deserve it." he said, turning you around so you were on your back, head resting on your plush pillow as his touch relaxed you.

it was almost as if for just a moment, you weren't in the middle of a fucking nightmare. you were at home, in your own bed. maybe you'd met him at work or out on a date - anywhere that wasn't in a forest full of zombies. and he'd taken you out for dinner a few times and you'd decided he was sweet enough to be kissing down your body, rolling his tongue over your nipples.

but here you were, in a camp full of strangers, being transported by this man who you barely knew, covered only by the walls of a thin tent. but it just felt so right to let him take you like this. you trusted him with your life. and in return he worked your body like magic. his touch was so gentle - yet his skin was so rough compared to your own.

"you want me inside you, baby?" he spoke to you so softly, having kissed down to the top of your underwear now. his eyes watched you, waiting for your permission to carry on.

"please," you replied, "i want you."

that was all he needed to hear. he pulled off his shirt and your underwear, tossing them both to the side. he admired your body shamelessly, eyes tracing the outline of your waist and your body. you couldn't help but do the same, entranced by the way his muscles practically glowed in the light that came through the tent. he was built like a rugby player, pure muscle but with a good layer of fat on top to smooth everything out. you watched as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock.

he was huge. you knew he was a big guy but you weren't expecting it to apply to all of him. it was definitely bigger than anyone you'd ever been with. his tip was an angry shade of red from how hard he was, precum running down his shaft. noticing the expression on your face, he reassured you.

"don't worry, i'll be gentle with you."

he lined himself up with your entrance, your wetness being enough to allow himself to push slowly inside. it stretched you more than you ever had been, causing you to hiss as it dipped inside you. he bent forward down to kiss you sweetly, silencing your pained noises, shushing you each time his lips left yours. he continued to move in until he bottomed out inside of you.

"you okay?" he grunted, "tell me when to move, love."

you paused for a moment, adjusting to his size before nodding to let him know he could start moving.

he didn't fuck like you expected him to. you thought a guy like him would be railing you like an animal, but no. he made love to you, his slow but deep thrusts hitting all the perfect spots in your gummy walls. it was pure bliss, and he thought so too, struggling to keep back his grunts each time he thrust into you.

"fucckkkk baby," he'd say, dog tag hanging down as he fucked you, "your pussy is so tight, gripping me so good". he hooked your legs behind his back and moved his big hands onto your hips to hold you in place. " is it good for you too, doll? you look so pretty with that fucked-out look on your face." he went on, smirking at you like he was proud of his work.

you couldn't even form words, let alone piece together a decent response. he felt amazing, pulling all the way out so only his tip was inside of you and then pushing all the way back in again, until you were an absolute drooling mess, jaw slack and whining on his cock. and just when you thought it couldn't get any better, he moved his hand between your legs and rubbed lazy circles on your clit with his thumb. almost instantly your pussy started pulsing around him - with you blubbering out incoherent swears and moans - having sent you completely over the edge in a matter of minutes. he wasn't far away either - your clenching making his hips stutter back and forth as he helped you ride through your orgasm. you could of swore you were seeing stars by the time he pulled out of you and came over your stomach with a moan, pressing his forehead to yours.

it took you both a few minutes to come back down again, giggling and kissing his lips once more. your arms found their way around his neck, holding him close to you. you were both a panting mess, clothes discarded across the tent floor and the scent of sex heavy in the air.

"my girl- you're gorgeous," he managed to huff out, catching his breath. " 'm never getting over you."

when news broke that a zombie apocalypse was spreading, you had no idea it would lead to this hunk of a man in bed with you - spoiling you and loving you like this. you weren't complaining, though. not at all. at least something good came from it.

he cleaned you up so carefully, being sure not to press too hard on your sensitive body. and when he'd made sure you were okay, he brought you something to eat and led down with you, stroking up and down on your back, drawing shapes and letters on your skin. part of you couldn't believe this was the same guy who you watched shoot a zombie in the face through the fence the other day. his hands were so gentle, always cautious not to hurt you under his touch.

and as your eyes grew heavy again, revelling in his embrace, you heard him say something into your skin.

"simon," he said quietly, face buried in your neck. "my real name's simon."

˚✧. thank you for reading!

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˚✧. dividers by @ saradika-graphics and @ si-eunnis

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[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, gn!reader, somnophilia, oral sex, victim blaming, implied stalking, and obsessive behavior.

Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing.

He knows he's not the best guy out there, but if he's given a choice between saving a cat from a tree and pushing a stroller into oncoming traffic, there's a good chance he'll choose the cat. His students might give him a hard time, but he knows better than to take it to heart when Megumi says the only useful thing about his dutiful guardian in his platinum card or Maki claims he could be replaced with a low-level curse and they'd struggle to tell the difference. He's not a saint, sure, but he doesn't entirely miss the mark.

That's why you felt so comfortable tag-along with him on a mission that took you to the other side of the country, why you didn't panic when you found out the higher-ups expected you to share a single (admittedly, still bigger than he'd like for it to be) bed, why you didn't think twice before stripping down to a tank-top and sleeping shorts and passing out - too exhausted to care about sorcerer decorum. Because Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing. Gojo can normally, generally, almost always be trusted to do the right thing.

It's just that he can't be trusted to do the right thing right now.

It's not his fault, Gojo reasons as he stares unblinkingly at the mold-stained ceiling, doing his best not to let his eyes drift. He's a hot-blooded man in the prime of his life, and you're... well, you're you - beautiful, smart, oblivious you. It's not his fault that you looked so pretty in the dim light filtering in through cheap curtains, that the stuffy motel room was too hot to justify using the paper-thin bedsheets, that all your tossing and turning meant your shorts were starting to ride up your legs in a way that wanted to make him dig his teeth into your thighs and--

And look at you. With a shaky breath, he sits up and rakes his fingers through his hair. Looking never hurt anyone. That's what he tells himself, at least, as he shifts onto his knees and lets his eyes rake over the length of your body. You'd rolled onto your side since the last time he could bring himself to check - your knees pulled up and your head tucked downward. He watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest for a moment, than another, before letting his attention fall lower - to where the waistband of your shorts had drifted below your hip, leaving a strip of supple flesh just a touch lower than what even the lowest-set of your jeans revealed. Both straps of your tank-top had managed to fall off of your shoulders sometime during the night, and careful not to touch you and cross a line he'd only half-heartedly set for himself, Gojo catches the flimsy fabric of your top between two fingers and tugs it downward, just enough to expose the swell of your chest and draw the material taut. Your nipples are already hard, he notes with just a little too much satisfaction. You wouldn't have been happy if you knew what he was doing, but your body might've been.

He feels his cock twitch, and he's palming it before he can stop himself. Touching himself wouldn't hurt you, either, and he wouldn't leave a mess, not if he could help it, not if he could summon that much self-restraint. Cursing under his breath, he shrugs his sweatpants down to his thighs and spits into his palm before wrapping his fist around his shaft. He's already stiff - had been from the second you started to undress, as hard as he'd tried not to acknowledge it. Biting down on his bottom lip, he pumps his hand over his cock to the tempo over your breathing, letting his mind wander to the space between your thighs. He couldn't, not without waking you up. He couldn't, but..

His attention drifts back to your lips, wet and ever so slightly parted. It wouldn't compare, but it'd have to do.

He positions himself carefully, his knees sinking into the mattress next to your head. Arousal beads at his tip, dripping down his shaft and filling the cramped room with a soft 'click, click, click' as he brings the head of his cock to your mouth, resting it gingerly on the crook of your lips. He does what little he can to swallow down his voice and smother the movement in his hips as your warm breath fans over his cock, as his fist tightens in a weak attempt to imitate how tight your throat would be, if he ever got the chance to fuck it properly.

He's thinking about how hot it would be inside of you, how adoringly your body would welcome him when his self-control snaps, when his hips buck forward and the head of his cock collides with the back of your throat. You gag sharply, your eyes snapping open and find his in an instant, expression a mix of shock and confusion and horror, pure and unadulterated. He wants to draw back. He wants to apologize. He wants to do the right thing.

Instead, he cums. His free hand falls to your head, and he holds you in place while he fucks shallowly into your mouth and rides through his orgasm. Your reaction is a pitiful thing - all choking and betrayal, but he can't seem to stop himself from grinning.

When he really thought about it, this was all your fault. You have no one to blame but yourself.

After all, Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing.

This time, you just didn't give him another choice.

[pandoraslxna]

i love ur neteyam writing sm. could you maybe do something like hide and go seek but like predator and prey type of hunting and once neteyam finds them it leads to smut if that makes sense?!? if not its totally fine💗

Feral hearts

adult Neteyam x female human reader

Words: 2.5k

Summary: There is always a thrill to the chase.

Warnings: explicit smut, cnc (that means there are dub/con elements, but nothing too bad), predator/prey play, chasing kink, oral (f receiving), handcuffs, p in v, fingering, rough sex, clit slapping (just once), size difference, overstimulation, praise kink

Translation:

Mawey = calm

Muntxate = wife, female spouse

You’re running. As fast as you can. As fast as your legs allow. The only thing keeping you from stopping or slowing down, are the sounds of footsteps right behind you– chasing you.

As you sprint through the dense, humid forest, your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline surging through your veins. The tangled undergrowth and towering trees blur together as you push your body to its limits, driven by both fear and an instinct for self-preservation.

So this is how it’s going to end?

Your lungs are burning, pleading for oxygen but you could only take short ragged gasps of air. The whirring and humming of your exopack mask as it filtered the air for you was almost as loud as the sound of your heart thumping inside your chest, beating so hard it was daring to break your rips.

But there’s also the distant sound of snapping branches and heavy footfalls that grow louder behind you. Moonlight filters through the thick canopy of trees, casting fleeting patches of light on your face as you weave through the bioluminescence flora like a shadow.

Your muscles burn with exertion, but you don’t even dare to slow down. The forest seems to conspire against you, with gnarled roots and low-hanging branches threatening to trip you up at every turn. Yet, fueled by a primal survival instinct, you push forward. A snarl echos through the forest, spurring you to greater speed.

More adrenaline courses through your veins, sharpening your senses and heightening your awareness of the world around you, your mind hyper-focused on the path ahead.

Leaves rustle underneath your running feet, and the scent of damp earth fills your nostrils, mingling with the scent of your own fear. Your heart races as you navigate through the labyrinth of trees, branches whipping against your skin, and time seems to stretch and compress simultaneously, each second feeling both fleeting and eternal. Your thoughts become a single, desperate mantra: escape.

With every stride, you push yourself harder, willing your legs to carry you to safety. The forest seems to blur into an indistinguishable frenzy of greens and glowing dots of colors, as if the very fabric of the world is collapsing around you. Your breathing becomes more labored, your body screaming for respite, but you refuse to yield.

Finally, as your strength wanes, you burst through the edge of the forest, emerging into a clearing bathed in moonlight. You stumble to a halt, gasping for breath, scanning your surroundings. The forest stands still, as if holding its breath, and you realize you have outpaced your pursuer.

Relief washes over you, tinged with a lingering sense of unease, a constant reminder of the primal fear of what lurks in the depths of the unknown forest.

Just as the adrenaline starts to wear off, a pair of hands suddenly grab you and the next moment, you find yourself flat on the mossy ground. You gasp sharply, instinctively writhing against the hands that roughly pin your wrists to your lower back, tying them together tightly.

"Got you", a low voice speaks directly into your ear, chuckling darkly, and a wave of goosebumps washes all over you.

Your body feels frozen with fear and your pulse quickens as the Na‘vi behind you draws even closer. His hands are smooth as they run up the backside of your thighs, all the way up over the curve of your ass, until they reach the waistband of your pants. There’s barely any effort needed to tug them down to your ankles, pull your jeans off and with them your panties too. The low hum coming from behind you let’s you know that he appreciates the sight of your glistening wet folds.

The same hands that had been roaming your shivering body now manhandle you into position– kneeling, thighs spread and back arched, and with your wrists still bound behind your back, your cheek is uncomfortable shoved against the cold glass of your mask as you’re lying face first in the grass.

"Hmm, you look delicious enough to eat, little one", the Na‘vi chuckles, running a set of long fingers through your slick before he pushes them into you without warning. You suck in a sharp gasp, but it quickly turns into a whiny moan that tumbles from your parted lips, as he thrusts them in to the last knuckle, just to harshly pull them back out entirely.

You can’t really see him from your current position, but you feel him shift behind you, settling to his knees between your spread thighs. The next thing you feel is a warm breath on your skin, and then something even warmer, something wet, that licks a board stripe from your clit to your entrance.

"So sweet", he groans, and then it dips back into you, lapping up your juices and you gasp for air at the invasion of his big tongue.

"Oh– holy sh-it", you moan, thighs quivering but he holds them spread in a strong grip with his big, three-fingered hands, holding you more open than you were before, so that he could taste you again and again, his tongue dipping deeper and deeper inside every time.

You could feel the pleasure growing inside you, in your toes, in your spine and even behind your eyelids. You arched against him, moaning at each touch of his tongue, his lips against your clit– sucking and slurping and kissing. Your orgasm was building fast, so incredibly fast, and you’re already reaching for it, but then he suddenly pulls away, and your hips jerk violently as though to follow.

"F-Fuck", it comes out as a frustrated sob, and you squirm helplessly against the restraints around your wrists. "Please!"

"Needy little human", the na‘vi grunts, and then dives back down, his tongue delving deeper than before, sucking harshly on your clit until your back arches like a bow. He’s feasting like he’s never been taught proper table etiquette, his face practically shoved against your pussy as if he’s actually starving.

You’re drooling, hands twisting uncomfortably and nails digging into your palms as you come for the first time that night, listening to the obscene sounds of him slurping the sweet nectar between your thighs as you come undone on his tongue.

Only when your thighs begin to tremble, hips twitching and bucking away from his mouth on your oversensitive clit, he finally lets up on you.

You hear him huff out a breath behind your back, probably at the pathetic sight of your physical condition– panting, with little spasms of overstimulated nerves and slick arousal running down the inside of your thighs.

You can’t help the chill running up your spine when his hands slide up your sides and up between your shoulder blades, putting some pressure right there to arch your back more.

"Mawey", he says, his voice low and raspy, laced with hunger, and you swallow thickly as you feel him shift once again, untangling the woven loincloth around his hips to discard it to somewhere behind him. "Don’t resist", you hear the thick na’vi accent on his tongue whenever he speaks your language. "It will hurt when you fight it."

Your brows furrow for a moment, but then you feel him shuffle closer and something presses against your slippery opening. Inhaling sharply, you feel the mushroom-like head of his cock nudge itself past your entrance. It’s thick, bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, and you can’t help but whimper at the stretch.

The Na‘vis hands are on your hips, holding you in place, but at the distressed little noises you make, one of them starts to rub up and down your spine, almost soothingly.

"It– its not going to fit", you whimper softly, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushes another inch of himself inside you. "You’re too– big, fuck."

He waits for you to inhale, then another inch slides into you and your exhale comes out a little shakily.

"You can take it", he simply says, but you hear the restrain in his voice like he’s holding himself back from slamming into you without mercy. "Look how your tiny cunt is swallowing my cock. She’s so tight, but hungry for it." He chuckles lowly, then slowly slides more of his never ending length into your clenching hole.

By the time he’s halfway inside you, you already felt full to brim. The stretch his girth bought you was deliciously painful, making you feel every tingle of sensitive nerves inside your core. You also feel the slight curve of his cock, his tip nudging against your g-spot before he draws out an inch and then pushes back in.

You make a punched out little noise at the first lazy thrust, and he repeats the same motion again. The drag of his shaft against your gummy walls is slow and languidly, but soon he picks up his pace. With ever thrust, he pushes more of his cock into you, working you open, before your body can properly adjusts to his size.

"Good girl", he breaths against the skin of your neck, "Just relax, let me claim the price of my hunt." And then his tongue licks broad, wet stripe up the side of your throat. You shiver underneath him, more moans falling from you lips when his pelvis finally makes contact with swell of your ass and he’s flush against you, seated so deep in your cunt that you feel his tip press against the opening to your womb.

The next thrust he gives you is a little harder, and it knocks the breath straight out of your lungs. Then another, making you gasp. Everything after the third thrust is a blur.

His pace changes dramatically once he’s certain your body can take it without breaking. They soon turn relentless and rough, and you find yourself clenching your teeth hard as you take take take whatever he’s giving you.

It takes you by surprise that, while you’re moaning, panting and gasping, breath hitching, one of his arms sneaks around your middle and his hand dips between your thighs. He finds your clit expertly fast and you almost bite through your bottom lip, a sob bubbling up your throat as he starts to rub it.

"Oh my god", you whimper and then it feels as if your body is breaking into a thousand pieces as he flicks your clit between his rough fingertips. "Fuck, please. Oh pleasepleasepleaseplease—"

Your insides turn to liquid and your brain slowly begins to melts out of you in a slick gush between your thighs as you come for the second time. The Na’vi fucks you through it, hitting all the right spots on the way in. Your pussy clamps down hard around his cock, sucking him in and keeping him right there until you feel yourself floating back to earth.

"Eywa, fuck", he curses behind you, sounding a little breathless himself. He was completely absorbed by the feeling of you, hypnotized by the sight. Your cunt seemed to lovingly embrace his cock, to massage it and cling to it whenever he pulled out just a few inches. "You’re so tight, so good."

You were shuddering from each firm, deep stroke of his cock, inner walls clinging tightly to his shaft, squeezing him, flexing around his warm, intruding length, coaxing him deep inside with each thrust. Despite the whiny little noise you make, and the way your hips buck and twitch, trying to get away from his hand, he keeps his fingers on your clit. He’s not touching it directly, skillfully avoiding the oversensitive bundle of nerves, but it’s enough to get you close again.

"C-Can’t, I can’t", you sob, squirming more and more. "Can’t come any– fuck, I can’t come anymore. I- I just came!"

"Oh, I think you can, little one", he groans, the pads of his three fingers giving a teasing slap to your clit that makes you choke on a another moan. The sound of skin roughly smacking against skin as he continues to pound into you almost drowns out the sound of his voice. "Hmh, fuck. Just take it, take what I give you. Let me feel you."

Sobbing, you shudder and twist and beg, your words pleasure-blurred into one long moan of, "coming!" And then you’re gone, flung into your orgasm, crying out and shaking, shuddering and twitching like you’ve been struck by lightning.

At the same time you feel his hand finally leave your clit, he returns them in a bruising tight grip around your waist, pulling you back to meet his final thrusts. Your eyes flutter close at the sudden feeling of warmth flooding your insides and your toes curl into your soles as he slowly fills you to the brim with his seed.

"Good girl, fuck, take it all. Every last drop", he grits out between clenched teeth, sharp fangs sparkling in the moonlight.

You cringe a little as it begins to leak out of you, but he is quick to push it back inside with a couple of lazy strokes. That’s when your knees finally give in under you, collapsing flat to the soft mossy ground with shallow pants of air.

"And?", Neteyam asks after a while. Your wrists have long been freed from their restraints and now you’re laying on your back, chest still heaving as he rolls over and almost crushes you under his weight. He lays the upper half of his entirely too big frame onto your chest, misusing your breasts as comfortable pillows. "How did you like it, muntxate? Was it to your satisfaction?"

"God, yes", you exhale a long breath, panting but smiling happily and content as ever, "It was- it was great. I’m very, very satisfied!"

"I‘m glad. I enjoyed myself too", Neteyam chuckles softly, "I have to admit, more than I thought I would, when you first asked me to do this."

His confession makes you blush sheepishly.

"I did not expect humans to be into such things, but I could get used to these type of hunts. You’re certainly more fun to chase after than a yerik!" Neteyam laughs.

You can’t help but giggle with him, as his arms encircle your middle and pull you into a tight hug, snuggling his face in between the space of your breast and nosing your scent that he always claims is very sweet to him.

"Maybe next time you could hide somewhere and I could read your tracks to find you", he then says quietly, his voice muffled against your skin. You don’t miss the way his tail curls in anticipation and his ears twitch, waiting for your response. "I-If that’s something you’d like to try, too", he quickly adds, and it’s almost comically how fast his mannerism can change from being the chasing predator to the absolute sweetheart that your mate is.

"Sure", you say, and you find yourself smiling at his eagerness, "I’d love that."

[greatstormcat]

Into the Fire

TF141 x f!reader Medieval AU

Part 2

Series Masterlist

TW: MDNI 18+, injury detail, kidnap, talks of violence

Dawn light filters through the trees, thin and watery, as you open your eyes. It takes a moment to catch up on where you are and why you felt as though you had been dragged behind a horse. Soon, though, the memories of yesterday return: being pulled from your house to certain death, the man on the horse… Kyle… the men.

You sit up and look around frantically. The camp exactly as you recalled it, small and functional, the weapons and bags….

“Hey, you’re finally awake. I thought we were gonna have to leave you,” a deep, annoyingly jovial voice greets you, and you look up into the face of your rescuer turned captor standing beside the extinguished fire. “Although I did consider tying you to the saddle bags. That would be a sight.”

“I’m awake now, thank you,” you reply curtly and climb to your feet, shaking slightly. The feel of loose bodice pulls your eyes down again and you see the tight knots you made last night have been loosened and re-tied. Your eyes snap up to his and you see a hint of challenge behind his sharp toothed grin.

“You had them too tight,” he says with that same smooth voice and level tone, as though what he did was perfectly within his rights.

“I had them how I wanted them,” you snap back, and something burns in his eyes for a moment, but just as quickly it vanishes. He looks down into one of the packs, rummages around and pulls out a small cloth wrapped bundle which he throws to you. You just about manage to catch it.

“C’mon, get yourself ready. We’re breaking camp,” he tells you, turning away to walk towards the horses. You look inside the wrapping and find a heel of bread and a small piece of cheese, breakfast. You slowly get up, nibbling on the bread as you watch them pack the camp away into the packs, keeping out of the way.

The weapons strapped to the saddles catch your eye, swords longer than you’ve ever seen before, and far more deadly. These are men that are prepared to kill, and are obviously more than capable. You see MacTavish adjusting the straps of his sword, embellished at the tips of its quillons with a group of small conjoined rings.

They drive the horses hard once everything is packed away with amazing efficiency, a routine that spoke of practice. The wind whips at your face as you ride with Kyle, and you are glad of the thickness of his arms around you to give you some warmth. Your dress is not suited to riding, and the burns and holes were beginning to unravel the fabric, leaving you exposed to the bitter air save for your linen smock underneath. You almost suspect he enjoys feeling you leaning into him against the chill as he tightens his hold around you.

By noon you see a group of carts and horses on the road in the distance as you crest a hill, and the pace picks up once again. The huge, heavy beasts you rode ate up the distance between you and the group ahead and soon you caught up with the rear. Price tells Kyle to take you to the cart with the wounded men, and rides to the head of the line with Simon and MacTavish to do whatever it was they need to do.

You suspect these four are Hedge Knights employed by some minor noble, you’d seen them often enough passing through the village looking for a Lord or Lady that needed a hired sword. Sometimes they were on their way to or from a grand Tournament. Either way they were usually poor as mud and surly individuals, which at least part way matched these four.

“Let’s see if you were worth burning my boots for,” Kyle mutters as he takes you to the injured soldiers in one of the carts.

“I’d hate for you to have to wasted the effort,” you reply tersely, and feel his chest rumble as he chuckles against your back.

Thankfully there are only two wounded soldiers in the back of the cart. It’s loaded with boxes that have been hastily moved to give the men somewhere to lie down. One looking very ashen with a broken off arrow lodged in the side of his knee, something you’d treated more than once due to accidents around the village. The other appears to have passed away already, or is so close to death he couldn’t be saved by any mortal medicine, his stomach wrapped in many layers of bandages and likely all that was holding his insides in place. You pull yourself from the back of Kyle’s horse onto the back of the cart and make a quick assessment of them both, giving Kyle a sad shake of the head when you look at the man with the stomach wound.

You make the best of what you have in your bag, talking to the stricken man as you work to remove the arrow which comes out cleanly. As you wrap a new linen around it, heavy hooves approach and Simon rides up beside Kyle, giving you an appraising look from behind his helm.

“Laswell sent a messenger, we need to make better time so we’re moving ahead of the rest,” Simon announces brusquely. He eyes you through the skull’s eyesockets. “If she’s done here, bring her with you. She might prove useful.”

Soon enough you are hauled unceremoniously back onto Kyle’s horse and rejoin Price and MacTavish who wait at the front of the line of men and animals. Those at the front carry a standard the swishes in the breeze with a bear emblazoned on it, but before you have time to look at the knights in armour, the four men ride on.

“Who were they?” you ask Kyle over your shoulder.

“Some of the Earl’s knights,” he replies, taking the excuse to lean close to your ear to speak.

“Is that who hired you?”

“You could say that,” he replies against your ear, breath warm against your skin despite the cool breeze.

You ride for the rest of the day, tiredness eating into you along with the cold as the day wears on. After several hours you notice something other than rolling hills and farmland in the distance.

A walled city appears on the horizon, smoke hanging over it from the many fires burning inside at smithies and various other industries. The smell of so much humanity also wafted closer, slightly dampening the overall effect. The sun was beginning to droop towards the horizon, staining the sky ruddy and turning the clouds pink and gold.

“D’ya fancy a real bed tonight?” MacTavish calls to Price, nodding towards the city on the horizon. “Or have ya not had yer fill of sleepin’ in the mud yet?”

Price scratches at his beard, mulling over his thoughts before nodding.

“Sounds like a plan, we’ll make better time if the horses get a good feed too,” he agrees and moves the group along the road towards the fork leading towards the main gate. A tiny thrill of excitement runs through you at the thought of seeing behind those high walls, having only ever known the village and immediate surroundings.

“You okay?” Kyle asks, feeling you shifting slightly.

“Just looking forward to getting off this horse,” you admit.

“Not used to riding so much?” he asks, letting go of the reins with one hand and placing his hand over your stomach. You tense slightly but he doesn’t remove his hand.

Your group rides through the city gates without being stopped by the guards. Torches are already being lit in the narrower streets to light the way as shadows gather. Something about the way the darkness pools between the buildings makes you shudder involuntarily, it wasn’t like the fall of night you were used to. The shadows seemed deeper, darker, something crawling in them unseen and unwelcome. It makes your skin crawl and a memory of crackling flames rise.

“Garrick!” Price calls over his shoulder snapping you from your thoughts, and Kyle moves his mount up beside the huge man in the bearskin cloak. “Take her to the apothecary and get her whatever supplies she needs for that bag of hers. Just to tide us over until we get home.”

“We lodging in the usual place?” Kyle asks, clearly not concerned by the request.

“That’s right, meet us there when you’re done,” Price replies.

“Maybe get the lass something better tae wear, ya ken?” MacTavish chuckles, giving you a wink. Your clothes are still charred and filthy, your skirt pulled up and showing your blistered skin.

“Might be an idea, she’s shivering and we’ve got a ways to go yet. Don’t want it bleating the whole way,” Simon added. You hadn’t noticed him watching you and that was very disconcerting. You decide not to raise the way he called you ‘it’. The trio carry on riding up the avenue, while Kyle turns his mount down another street, hooves clattering and echoing between the buildings.

You ride through the wide, flagstones streets lined with tall merchant buildings, your eyes bouncing from each new sight to another, the buildings, the people, their clothes… it’s all a world away from what you have seen before. People walk by dressed in fine, colourful clothes and merchants line the pavement outside their shops with all manner of wares. Eventually Kyle brings you to a halt outside a building with a shingle showing a pestle and mortar.

“Here’s our first stop,” he announces, slipping down from the saddle and tying the reins to a post, before helping you down. Every muscle in your body is stiff and aching from so long on the horse and you’re glad to stretch. “I’m glad to get my feet on the ground again,” you groan. Kyle chuckles, clearly not affected as you are. He wraps his gloved hand around the back of your neck and lightly grips you with his fingertips, almost scruffing you, and your frown in annoyance.

“This way, let’s see what you need to replace some of what was trashed,” he says as he marches you up the stone steps into the building. The smell of camphor, sandalwood and lemon balm almost knocks you back as you enter through the low door, Kyle having to tilt his head to fit under the lintel. Lamps burn inside and illuminate a room crammed with thick wooden shelves, holding more glassware than you’ve ever seen. Bottles and vials with neatly written labels line them all. Bundles of dried and drying herbs cover the ceiling to the point you can barely see the beams above them.

A table sits in the middle of the chaos with brass scales, ornate bowls and a range of sizes of pestle and mortars for grinding concoctions.

“How exactly are you going to pay for this?” you whisper in a hushed tone, your eyes boggling at the shelves stocked with herbs, tinctures and resins that you’ve only ever read about before.

“That’s my concern, not yours,” he answers in an off handed tone. “Just get the essentials and I will sort the coin out.”

A short, stocky man in a dark robe shuffles forward, and immediately addresses Kyle asking what he can get him. Kyle indicates it’s you that is making the purchase, and the apothecary twists his mouth as he rudely looks you up and down.

With your bottom lip between your teeth you hurriedly think about what you lost back at your village. Once you begin to list the items you need to the apothecary, he quickly realises you know what you are talking about. He asks questions, and makes suggestions about alternative herbs and compounds, sparking a lively discussion between the two of you.

Kyle takes a seat by the window, stretching out his long legs, and settles in to watch you. A look of pride softens his face, and you feel yourself warming under his constant, possessive gaze.

A dozen parchment packets are filled for you, and several jars of healing compounds pulled from the shelves. When you hear the cost your heart stops for a second.

“Oh… my… I don’t need the…” you begin but Kyle quickly gets up and grasps your shoulder to pull you aside.

“Just pack your bag, I will deal with this. Price’s orders remember?” he winks. He pulls a pouch from his belt and shining metal is exchanged between the two men while you carefully nestle your precious supplies inside your leather bag and hug it to your chest protectively.

“Right, c’mon and let’s find a seamstress before they go home for the evening,” he tells you and shoos you out of the door into the street once more.

“That was more money than I’ve ever known someone carry,” you observe carefully as you walk beside him up the hill. Kyle leads his horse by the reins and peers at you from the corner of his eye.

“We’re well paid,” he shrugs nonchalantly, and waits to see if you’ll ask anything further. You decide to keep your mouth shut, clutching your bag as though it might turn to smoke and disappear.

At last you turn into a narrower street lined with cloth merchants, tailors and seamstresses. Kyle picks one seemingly at random and pushes you inside, calling for someone to come forward and see you both. A kind faced older woman in a plain green dress and brown apron comes forward, a warm smile on her face.

“By the gods, what happened to you?” she exclaims when she sees your charred clothes.

“My house caught fire,” you lie quickly before Kyle can say anything.

“She needs something to wear while we travel,” he explains.

“Oh you poor thing! I can make you something by the end of tomorrow,” she says, clasping your hands warmly in hers.

“We don’t have time, we leave in the morning, so what do you have that could be made to fit her by then,” Kyle says firmly. “She can’t go around looking like she slept in the fire pit.” You shoot him a dangerous look, and he smirks back at you.

The seamstress bustles about and finally appears with a dress draped over her arm.

“This was made for another Lady but she changed her mind,” she says hopefully and eyes you bust and hips. “It won’t take much to adjust it to fit and its a riding dress so good if you’re traveling.”

“I can’t wear that!” you cry, looking at the dress. It's a dark russet with simple embroidery on the bodice and sleeves, maybe nothing fancy by the standards you’ve seen today but easily the most elaborate thing you’ve ever even come close to wearing. The seamstress cocks her head as she looks between you and Kyle, as though baffled by your reaction.

“I’m sorry it's just a simple riding dress, m’dear,” she says as though talking to a child. “You don’t have to wear it to Court, does she?” She looks at Kyle, suddenly looking concerned. It shakes his head quickly.

“It’ll be fine, how soon can you have it ready? And a cloak?” Kyle buts in before you can protest anymore. Once again his purse appears and gold coins paid, and you leave with a wrapped bundle in your arms and a strange feeling in your chest.

“Right, time for food and rest,” Kyle announces as you try to reconcile what has just happened.

“Fine but… let’s walk,” you beg him.

The Inn is well maintained with flower boxes outside the windows, neat and tidy. It’s not the sort of place you’d have ever been into before, and how these men were going to have the coin to cover it was beyond you. Something begins to niggle at the back of your mind that you haven’t quite worked out who these men are, and that manifests as a twisting feeling in your stomach as Kyle hands the reins of his horse to a stablehand who gives him a curt bow. Kyle’s hand falls to the nape of your neck again, the habit becoming extraordinarily irritating, and guides you up a narrow staircase at the back of the building. He clearly knows where he is going, steering you towards a door at the end of the short corridor, entering without knocking and pulling you in with him.

The room beyond the door is warm and comfortably furnished with a bed against one wall, a table and chairs, and a window looking out over the busy street below. A large bowl of steaming water rests by the hearth with a clean cloth and a small bar of soap. The thought of being clean makes your skin tingle, and being able to treat your burns properly an added temptation.

“I’m going to leave you in here for a bit, I need to go see Price. Are you going to behave or do I have to lock you in?” Kyle smirks.

“Where would I go?” you reply, rolling your eyes at him as you put the parcel of clothes down. He gives you a dark look before closing the door behind himself.

Once he leaves you wash and change from your filthy linen dress and smock into the new linen and dress, finding a small polish mirror on the wall. It fits surprisingly well and looks like nothing you've ever worn before, making you preen with selfish joy. Your gaze travels to your face in the reflection, and you see the twisted and frazzled sections of hair, damaged by the heat of the pyre, and your excitement turns sour. You shouldn’t be enjoying this, you’ve been snatched from your life by these men and have no idea where they’re taking you.

Suddenly you want to take the dress off, and reach for the laces but the door opens and Kyle returns, the smell of stew wafts before him and you see the two steaming bowls he has with him.

“Here you go, eat up. We’ve got a long days riding tomorrow and Price wants to avoid stopping unless the horses need it.” He sets them on the table.

“Why am I going with you?” you demand, your confusion shifting to burning irritation as he starts to eat, paying you no attention.

“Why not?” he grunts, not looking up. You eye the door for a moment, it still isn’t locked.

“What kind of answer is that?”

“The one you’re getting,” he huffs, dropping his spoon on the table and glaring at you. Tension bleeds into the air, and the need to get away from him intensifies. You may have nowhere to do, but that doesn’t mean staying put is the best tee option.

“I helped those injured soldiers the way you asked me to, so the way I see it I’m free to go now.” You stride quickly towards the door, reaching for the handle and your fingertips graze the iron just before Kyle leaps from the chair and surges towards you with a half covered snarl of frustration. His hand wraps around your throat, your hands come up to defend yourself but he knocks them away easily. He pushes you backwards, pinning you to the wall and knocking the breath from you momentarily.

“You are staying here,” he growls into your ear, the tip of his nose grazing the shell of your ear as he speaks. A tremor runs down your spine, and you shut your eyes. “Just remember, you owe me your life and I get to decide when that debt is paid.” He takes a slow step forward until his body is lightly touching your front, his hand still at your throat but slightly relaxed now.

“Until I say the debt is paid, you do exactly what you’re told. If not, I needn’t continue to keep you safe, understand?”

You manage to nod, not trusting yourself to speak for fear of making things worse. He must be able to feel the thrashing of your pulse under his palm, its so wild with panic. It is panic, isn’t it? Too late you notice your hands have settled onto his hips, but he has already felt them there and smiles like a predator, resting his forehead against yours.

“See, not so bad is it?” he croons sweetly, as though he hadn’t just threatened your life. “Now sit down and eat, like I told you too.”

You give up and stomp to the table, sitting down to eat as you don’t feel like starving. Afterwards you face the long night sharing the bed with him, his arms wrapped around your still clothed middle while he presses himself to your back but doing nothing more than that. You struggle to close your eyes, staring at the wall instead and fighting back tears until the sun begins to rise again. Exhausted and drained, you follow Kyle to the stables in the morning.

“Did you get any sleep?” Simon asks, eyes flitting from you to Kyle. MacTavish stands near him, a fresh bite mark on his neck above the collar of his tunic.

“More than you did by the looks of things,” Kyle answers with an obvious note of bitterness in his tone. For some reason you feel a surge of pride that you are the cause of his discomfort, a smile threatening to break across your face, and you fiddle with the clasp on your new cloak to hide your face.

“That’s enough,” Price interrupts, “let’s go. I want to get back before nightfall.”

The horses are well rested and seem to want to do nothing more than cover the miles along the road. Your body bounces and jostles against Kyle and his mounts the entire day, causing you to ache and tire. At least you are warm now thanks to the dress and cloak, and once your body goes numb you find yourself nodding with tiredness.

“You can sleep if you want to,” Kyle whispers into your ear, and you jerk awake.

“No, I’m fine,” you snap back.

“Nothings going to happen, sleep if you need to,” he says with an unexpectedly gentle tone. He tightens his arms around you, cradling you to his chest, and you struggle to keep your eyes open for much longer with the swaying of the horse.

You awaken hours later, blinking your bleary eyes open and taking in your surroundings. The landscape has changed to open, windswept moorlands of low grass and granite boulders atop rounded hills. It has a barren beauty that you’ve not seen before, and larks sing in the sky above.

After a while the moorlands sweep down towards the coastline, the tang of salt carries on the breeze and ripples over the heather and gorse bushes beside the road. As the day draws on the cobbled road winds around another rounded hill and below you is the most beautiful view you’ve ever beheld. A town of squat, whitewashed houses clings to the shoreline where a narrow strip of golden sand lies. The sea stretches out to the horizon, sparkling as though precious stones were scattered across its surface and catching the setting sun beyond.

The most spectacular thing though, is a causeway that meanders out from the beach, made of huge slabs of rock that must have taken a giant to move and place them. It curls through the water out to an island, with its own little harbour and breakwaters tucked into the protected side. A handful of buildings cluster around the harbour, nestling in the shelter provided by the steep hill in the middle of the island.

Perched at the top of the hill, in defiance of the stormy weather that would hammer it in winter, stands a castle. It give the appearance of having grown out of the rocks themselves against all probability.

“What is this place?” you ask Kyle in a reverential whisper.

“Home,” he answers fondly. “The castle on the island is the home of Earl Price and his Knights.”

You twist around to stare at his face and that irritating grin of his.

“You? You’re the Earl’s Knights?” you exclaim.

“Well, they are,” Price interrupts your shock. You turn to face him with the castle visible over his large shoulder, and he winks.

Lord Price, winks at you.

—————————————————————————————————

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[witchywithwhiskey]

12 and 17 Andy Barber💖

dreaming of a rainy spring morning

pairing: husband!andy barber x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, dry humping, consensual somnophilia, piv sex, creampie, cockwarming, dirty talk, praise kink, very light bdsm, begging, teasing, pet names (wife, husband), sleepy cuddling, fluff, established relationship

word count: 1,200ish

a/n: i hope it's ok that i pulled from the smut prompt list instead of the fluff one—they were just more inspiring: “where are your manners?” + “beg for it.” i wanted to do something soft and i had the idea for this because it's rainy here today (and i probably should've done more rainy day fics since it rains so much in the spring 🫣). anyway, hope you enjoy!! ♡♡

The rain was a steady pitter patter against the windows, a soft morning light trickling through the glass and casting a cool, gray glow over the chilly bedroom. You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of earth and water that filtered through the cracked window that had been left open overnight. Letting your eyes flutter closed again, you reached blindly across the bed until your fingertips brushed against the familiar warmth of your husband, Andy Barber.

Outside, the rain picked up its pace and a fierce wind ruffled the newly sprouted leaves of the spring trees, but inside your home, you were safe and warm—and you had other things to concern yourself with. Like squirming across the bed beneath the blankets so you could curl around your husband’s side, draping a leg over his thigh, feeling the hair on his tickling your skin.

With a soft sigh of relief, you settled in beside Andy, breathing in the familiar scent of his soap and feeling your body warm at his closeness. You tried to let sleep reclaim you, but there was a restlessness in you—a low, simmering heat in your core that didn’t allow you to slip back into the comforting embrace of sleep. Instead, it smoldered until it refused to be ignored.

Sleepily, you shifted your body until you lay on top of your husband, your thighs on either side of his hips and your bare pussy pressing against his soft cock in his boxers. You’d worn one of Andy’s t-shirts to sleep, but that was all you had on, while he wore his boxers and a t-shirt of his own. You grumbled a little at that, wishing you were pressed skin to skin with him, but you didn’t want to make the effort to wake him and undress.

Instead, you rocked lazily against Andy’s bulge, feeling his cock twitch and come to life. A mischievous smile curled the edges of your lips as you felt him harden beneath you, his cock stiffening beneath your puffy folds. You slid your messy slit against him, your clit bumping against the tip in such a delicious way, you had to bite back a moan. 

You still had your eyes closed, your cheek pillowed on Andy’s broad chest while you took your pleasure at a leisurely pace. But soon it wasn’t enough. With as little movement as possible, you inched up Andy’s body until the tip of his cock was prodding against your slick hole. You were wet enough that he slipped in easily and you pushed back, taking the head into your tight, warm cunt.

“Where are your manners?” Andy rumbled, his voice gruff with sleep and startling you a little. But there was a hint of teasing in his tone that made you smile, happy your husband was up to join you in your morning delight. “So needy, wife—you can’t even wait until your husband’s awake to start playing with his cock, huh?” 

“Sorry, husband,” you purred, not feeling sorry at all as you arched your back and pushed your hips down further on Andy’s hard length. “You shouldn’t have given me permission to do what I want while you’re sleeping if you didn’t want to wake up with my needy pussy wrapped around your hard cock.”

Andy groaned, his hands lifting to your hips and, with a brutal shove, he impaled you the rest of the way on his length,  stuffing you full with one move and wringing a sharp gasp from your lips. He grunted at the tight squeeze of your inner walls and pressed a kiss to your temple, his beard rasping against your skin and making you shiver.

“Love waking up to your perfect cunt on my cock, wife,” he rumbled, his hips thrusting up lazily while you moaned and rocked back onto his cock. “So soft and warm and wet for me—you feel perfect, wife, perfect.”

Your fingers sank into Andy’s thick hair and you guided his mouth to yours as best you could without opening your eyes, your lips finding one another in the dim light of the morning. Your husband kissed you as sweetly as he’d spoken his words of praise, filling you with every ounce of love in his heart while you poured your own back into him. 

The soft clapping of your skin against his set a new rhythm in the room as the rain continued outside, but you were too wrapped up in your husband to notice anything beyond him. When your mouths finally parted, you gasped and moaned while he grunted and groaned beneath you, your bodies writhing together and seeking pleasure in each other. 

“Andy,” you cried softly on a gasp, burying your face in his neck while your fingers curled in his hair, clinging on to him as ecstasy swirled through your body. “I’m gonna—please, husband,” you mumbled, knowing you didn’t make sense, and knowing it didn’t matter because Andy would know what you needed because of the way your pussy was fluttering around his thrusting length.

But it seemed your husband wanted to pay you back for waking him up early because his next words weren’t a soothing acknowledgement of your looming release. They were a dirty demand, rumbled right into your ear.

“Beg for it.”

A whimper escaped your lips at the command, the gruff sternness in Andy’s voice only making your body clench tight as you barreled toward your release. You were so close that all you could do was submit and give Andy what he wanted. 

“Please, husband, please make me come,” you babbled, the words falling from your lips easily as you were driven by your need for satisfaction. “Wanna come all over your big cock, wanna feel you spill inside me—please, please, oh god, Andy, please!”

“Good girl,” he cooed in your ear, gripping your ass in his big hands, making you squeal as his fingertips dug into your plush softness. “Now, come,” he growled through gritted teeth, holding you still as he fucked up into you, bouncing your hips on his cock and grinding against your clit in just the right way to set you off.

You came with a scream that you muffled against Andy’s shoulder, your mouth open wide as you wailed in ecstasy, your whole body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you. Andy’s arms flexed against your sides, holding you pinned down on top of him, your pussy rhythmically squeezing his cock while he rutted up into you. It wasn’t long before he was groaning his own release, his cock twitching deep in your cunt as he came inside you.

When he was spent, Andy heaved a heavy sigh and sagged back into the bed, leaving you to stay sprawled across his chest, his softening cock still wedged in your pussy. Your chests were pressed so tightly together, you could feel his heartbeat pounding against his ribcage, and you smiled, ducking your face to press a kiss right against his sternum.

“Go back to sleep, wife,” Andy muttered, running his hand down your spine to soothe you. His soft touch made your muscles melt, and sleep crowded into your consciousness.

“Yes, husband,” you mumbled, already halfway there.

Between the steady beating of Andy’s heart and the constant pitter patter of the rain against the windows, you were lulled back to sleep with a smile on your face. As you slept, you dreamt of your husband, and the love you felt when you were tucked safely into the warmth of his arms on a rainy spring morning. 

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Crawl Home to Her

Pairing: Osferth x f!reader Warnings: Religious guilt. Canon-typical violence. Mild angst. Loss of virginity. Smut. Word count: ~3.5k

Summary: Part two of Deathless Death. Osferth has a crisis of conscience and faith, however, an attack on their party by the Danes makes him realise what's at stake. Based on this request. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @valeskafics. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Osferth rouses slowly into wakefulness, blinking his eyes open. For a moment, his mind is blissfully silent, focusing only on the canopy of green leaves above and the chirping of the birds in the woodland that surrounds him and his travel companions.

That is until the memory of the previous evening floods back to him; the taste of her upon his tongue, her cries of pleasure that had echoed through the trees and up into the night sky. He can still feel the smoothness of her thighs beneath his fingertips, the way the softness of her flesh had yielded beneath his hands as she’d hovered above his face while he’d devoured her like a man starved.

His throat tightens at the thought, his cock stirring in his breeches. He turns on his bed roll to face her, expecting to see her peacefully sleeping next to him, just as she usually is, her features a vision of angelic beauty. However, the space beside him lays empty and his brow furrows in concern as he props himself up on his elbow to look around for her.

He spots her. She kneels at a fallen log, her hands clasped in prayer against it. The early morning sunlight filters through the branches casting the top of her head in golden light. She is the picture of innocence, truly angelic, and guilt and shame wash over Osferth in thick, hot waves. He would have sullied her upon the filthy forest floor, if the others had not come back and interrupted them. Worse still, she would have allowed him to. This pure, devout, impressionable girl had been a vessel for his lust. Seeing her as she is now, Osferth vows to keep his distance; he must do better by her, despite his yearning for her.

He is startled momentarily when she opens her eyes and looks directly at him, clearly having sensed his gaze upon her. Her smile is warm, making her eyes soften with fondness as she looks at him.

“You’re awake,” she says, her voice gentle. Osferth will never have enough of that dulcet sound, it is sweeter than honeyed wine. “Will you join me?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak and makes his way over to her, kneeling on the opposite side of the log. It’s a deliberate choice, a need to place a physical barrier between the two of them so that he is not tempted to reach out for her, to feel her lips upon his once more.

If she is offended by his decision, she does not show it, lowering her head once more and closing her eyes. Osferth wonders what she prays for. Had she awoken this morning filled with regret for what they’d done and is now praying for God to cleanse her of her misdeeds?

Pressing his own hands together, he closes his eyes and bows his head.

Please, Lord, give me the strength to resist her. Do not allow me to sully her innocence with my sinful behaviour any more than I already have. Forgive her for transgressions, for she does not understand fully what she has done, and was led astray by my lust.

“First one awake’s meant to light the fire,” he hears Finan grumble sleepily in annoyance from a few feet away.

He sighs, standing and walking towards the pit that had been dug the day before. “Apologies, Finan, I’ll do it now.”

The rest of the morning passes peacefully. Uhtred’s talk of their travel plans serves as a welcome distraction, though he is unable to stop himself from glancing over at her. She looks at him with such adoration that it makes his heart squeeze. He is not worthy of basking in the affection of her gaze, yet he craves it all the same.

When it comes time to move on, she leans back against his chest as they ride, and it takes everything he has not to wrap his arms around her waist. His knuckles turn white from the intensity with which he keeps a hold of his horse’s reins, knowing that if he lets go his hands will be upon her in an instant.

She tucks herself against his chest as they bed down again that night and he is glad to wrap his arms loosely around her, keeping her close. He reasons he is simply keeping her warm, nothing more, until she looks up at him doe-eyed and expectant.

“Will you kiss me again?” She whispers into the darkness and he feels a pit open in his stomach.

“Not tonight, my lady”, he tells her quietly, “get some rest.”

He hates telling her no. The way her face crumples in disappointed sadness feels like a dagger to his chest, but it is for her own good. A kiss would lead to more and he cannot do that to her. He must control himself for the both of them.

She nuzzles into him, closing her eyes and he allows himself a moment to simply let his hands stroke through the silken strands of her hair, soft as angel’s wings.

He is thankful that the constant presence of Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric during the day prevents her from asking about the night he had tasted her. He can see it in her face each time she looks at him, longing in her eyes and questions on the tip of her tongue, but she’d never dare speak of it in company, so he always ensures they are never alone.

Come nightfall she clutches against his robes as they lay together, and he savours her closeness, her warmth, her scent, pretending his actions are a matter of duty that he derives no pleasure from.

She catches him off guard a few mornings later, excitement in her eyes as she approaches him.

“There is a river close by. I’d like to bathe. Will you join me?”

Osferth feels himself flush scarlet all the way to the tips of his ears. The thought rivulets of water running down her skin, tracing the curves of her body, has him swallowing thickly in order to maintain his composure. But he cannot give in.

He picks up his sword, fastening it to his belt. “I will keep watch to ensure you are safe, my lady.”

Her gaze lowers, he can see he has disappointed her yet again and guilt gnaws at him. He detests that doing the right thing makes her so sad.

She turns and walks off in the direction of the riverbank, and he dutifully follows her. He has to physically force himself to turn away when she begins to undress. Never having seen her fully bare before, he is desperate to look, but knows he will not be able to control himself if he does.

In his peripheral vision he sees her form illuminated by sunlight as she steps from the bank and into the water. Her movements are slow, deliberate, and he glances quickly at her, seeing how her hands move through the water, over her hair and down her body. 

Looking quickly away, he wonders how someone so angelic can be such a temptress. He wants to protect her virtue, yet ravage her at the same time, and it seems she is attempting to lure the latter half of him out to play. She does not know the full weight of what she is asking, however, and Osferth could not live with himself if he laid with her, only for her to regret it.

He keeps his focus on the surrounding woodland, to make sure no one approaches or sees her as she is bathing. He does not look upon her again until she returns to him, dressed once more, her hair damp from the river.

She looks up at him with wide, imploring eyes and Osferth feels panic flutter in his chest. They are alone. They are alone, and she is going to ask him about what happened between them and he will not know what to tell her. What could he possibly say? That he is a sinner? That he cannot control himself? That he swore to protect her and has taken advantage of her instead?

“Did I do something wrong?” She asks sadly.

The question hits him like a punch to the gut. How could she assume she is to blame for anything?

He opens his mouth to reply, but she beats him to it. “Was it not good…the other night? Have you decided you don’t want me after all?”

Her tone is filled with insecure hurt and Osferth feels as though he wants to cry. He had never meant to make her feel unwanted. If only she knew that she is everything he has ever wanted and everything he does not deserve simultaneously.

“Osferth?” Sihtric’s voice echoing through the trees interrupts them, as the crackle of branches heralds his approaching footsteps.

He turns to face the direction he is coming from, brows rising in concern as he sees the hardened look upon Sihtric’s face. This is serious.

“Get ready to go,” he tells them both. “We are being tracked by Harald’s men.”

Without thinking, Osferth grabs her hand, rushing her back to camp. They hurriedly pack away their belongings, kicking out the fire, before mounting up and moving on at speed.

She rests wordlessly against his chest, and he knows they will eventually need to continue their conversation from earlier, but right now his only focus is on keeping her safe. If he cannot do that then he has failed in his entire reason for taking her with him from Alton in the first place.

Their horses are brought to an abrupt halt, rearing up slightly when Danes ambush them in a clearing, surrounding them. Bile rises in Osferth’s throat, icy fingers of fear wrapping around his heart - not for himself, but for what may happen to her.

As Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric dismount, withdrawing their weapons, he leans forward whispering quickly to her. “Run. Run away and don’t look back. I will find you after.”

He feels her trembling like a leaf, and wishes he could do more to comfort her, but in this moment the best source of comfort is to protect her and, so as she flees, he jumps down from his horse and unsheathes his own weapon.

Osferth is not a masterful warrior, but travelling with Uhtred has sharpened his skills and he fights with more confidence than terror with each passing day. 

Allowing pure instinct and adrenaline ro guide his movements, he drives forward, slashing with his blade, ignoring the ache in his shoulder and the wet, dull sounds of steel biting into flesh.

A sharp sting against his temple happens so quickly that he barely registers he is cut, until he feels the warm trickle of blood in his eye. He blinks it away in time to see Uhtred run through the Dane responsible for causing the injury.

He is panting, sweaty, sight in one eye reddened by ichor by the time they have cut down Harald’s men. Those not killed have fled, but any solace he feels is short lived as dread and regret spur him into action, he runs through the woods in search of her.

Stupid fool.

If he’d have known better, he’d have taken her and rode away, not left her to fend for herself. What if some of Harald’s men have come after her? What if she’s dead?

As Osferth races through the trees he can no longer tell if the warmth upon his cheeks is blood or tears, he simply knows he has to find her.

His heart soars, relief and exhilaration flooding through him when he spots her cowering in a thicket, fresh tears pricking his eyes.

She is safe.

He calls out to her and she raises her head, her eyes wide with fright, though she visibly relaxes when she sees him, stepping out from her hiding place.

His jaw clenches in anger when he sees the slash in the sleeve of her dress, a long, angry looking red gash adorns the flesh of her forearm.

“Did they hurt you?” He asks, unable to mask the worry in his voice.

She shakes her head. “I caught myself on a low hanging branch when I ran away. It is my own clumsiness that is at fault, no one else.”

Reaching up, her fingers brush over the cut to his temple. “You are hurt…”

Osferth winces, though does his best to sound brave in spite of the pain. “It’s only a scratch. The fact that you are safe is all that matters to me.”

They stare at each other unblinking for a moment, her thumb tenderly wipes away the tears that have tracked down his cheeks. 

If they are not meant to be together then why would God deliver her safely back to him? They both could have died today and all he wants to do is kiss her.

Before he can second guess himself, he leans in, pressing his lips to hers, smiling into the kiss as he feels her return the gesture, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him close.

She is alive, they both are, and he has never felt more so than in this moment.

That night, they do not sleep upon the forest floor. Uhtred finds them lodgings at a village alehouse, stating they have all suffered enough for one day and deserve the comfort of a decent night’s rest.

Retreating upstairs, bellies filled with ale and stew, Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric pile into one room, leaving Osferth and her to the other. It is humble, simply furnished, with a small double bed.

Osferth’s pulse races, keeping his back to her as he removes the light leather armour from his wrists and chest, leaving himself in just his robes. They have never spent the night alone together like this before. What would she be expecting of him?

He lips part involuntarily as he turns back to see her dressed only in her cotton shift. She has removed her dress, and tended to the cut upon her arm. She is beautiful, so beautiful, and he feels himself redden with embarrassment as she looks up and smiles, clearly having caught him staring.

She squeezes water from a cloth into a basin, before turning back to him. “Here, let me,” she says, gesturing to the wound on his temple.

Osferth approaches her slowly, his breathing unsteady. He hisses lightly at the sting of it as she gently presses the dampened cloth to his injury.

“Forgive me,” she whispers, lightening her touch, and his chest tightens.

As if my forgiveness is something you would ever need to seek.

She dabs at his face, placing the cloth into the bowl several more times as she goes, wringing it out, until she is satisfied he is clean.

Dropping the cloth back into the bowl, she places her hands against his face. She regards him with such tenderness that he has to close his eyes, unable to stand the way it makes it feel as though his heart will burst out of his chest.

Her fingertips move lightly over the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, over his lips, chin and jaw. If this is what it feels like to be worshiped then the satisfaction God must experience is beyond gratification.

He gasps as he feels her lips press eagerly his once more and moves his mouth hungrily against hers, tangling his fingers into her hair and walking her back towards the bed.

Pushing her back, he hovers over his, his lips trailing a path down her neck to her collarbones, before kissing the rest of her body through her shift. Eagerly, he pushes the cotton above her hips, finding her wet and wanting, eager to be tasted again.

Osferth’s gaze flickers back up to her face. Her eyes are glossy and darkened by desire, her lips swollen with kisses and parted as she breathes heavily through them.

If he had died today, he is certain the grave he ended up in would not be enough to hold him back from crawling back to her, if only to see her like this. But in that same moment, he remembers the men he has killed today, his hands sullied by blood, lives ended by his hand.

He is unfit to touch her. He cannot besmirch her virtue with his uncleanliness.

He bows his head, exhaling sadly. “I–I cannot go any further, my lady,” he whispers, “I would not dirty you with hands that are not worthy of you.”

She props herself up on her elbows. “And what about what I want? It is my virtue to give away, don’t I get to decide who takes it?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking, you cannot give me this,” he argues, eyebrows drawn together in a pleading expression.

“I know perfectly well what it is that I want,” she replies, her tone defiant.

She shifts on the bed, pushing him onto his back, and he lets her. All his fight has left him, so he simply lays there, watching her with curiosity as she sits astride him.

Carefully, her hands pull at his clothes, stripping him of his robe, trousers and breeches. He quietly allows her to do so, lifting his body as needed to aid her task until he lays utterly naked before him.

Osferth has never been nude in front of anyone before. He had anticipated feeling shame and embarrassment, wanting to curl in on himself to hide from her. However, her gaze is filled with such warmth and innocence, she looks upon him in wonder, the way that people gaze at sunsets and meadows of wildflowers. It makes pride swell within his chest to be looked upon as though he is worthy.

Her lips brush gently against his, and as quickly as he leans up to kiss her back, she is moving away. Her mouth trails a path down his neck, across his chest and over his abdomen, before she allows her fingertips to take the same journey. He shivers, feeling his manhood pulsate under her attention.

He sucks in a breath when he feels her hand wrap around his cock, testing the weight and feel of it in her palm, eyeing it reverently, before she lets go and comes to lay beside him.

She pulls her shift over her head, discarding it upon the floor, and his eyes widen, drinking in the sight of her. Not even the most diligent monks in his days at the monastery could illuminate visions as lovely as she is.

“I do not know what I am doing. I’ve never done this before, but I want to. Osferth, please.”

Her quiet plea is all he needs to hear. He turns her onto her back, hovering over her and kisses her deeply. A rumble of appreciation vibrates through him as he feels her instinctively part her thighs.

Pulling away, he grasps the base of himself, guiding his tip to her waiting entrance.

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes locking with hers.

“I have never wanted anything more. Please.”

Her words make his stones ache and he presses forwards, jaw going slack at the feeling of how tight she is as his length forces apart her walls.

She whines quietly at the intrusion, though as he studies her face he is met with desire rather than the discomfort that he had anticipated. It excites him to know that she wants him, though he fears he would not be able to stop now even if he wanted to.

If lying with other women has been the closest he has come to seeing the face of God before, then in this moment he has truly died and gone to heaven.

His thrusts into her are slow and soft, his lips linger against hers, exchanging sticky kisses and laboured breaths. As his passage eases, his movements become slightly harder and faster, groaning as she grows wetter, clenching around him as the wooden bed frame creaks with their efforts.

This is his forbidden fruit. He has tasted her and now there is no going back. He loses himself in the sensation of her, his grip on her tight as she writhes beneath him, the sounds she makes are sweeter than any music.

Noticing her tensing when his thrusts are shallower, he repeats the motion in earnest until suddenly she is crying out, pulsating around him, pulling him quickly towards release. He pulls out, stroking himself to completion, watching the way his spend paints her bare flesh in pearlescent ropes.

Breathlessly he falls back against the mattress, pulling her to him, wanting her close. She is pliable, eager, and snuggles against him, her head upon his chest.

He looks down at her through hooded eyes and she smiles back up at him, her gaze filled with warm affection.

“I love you,” she whispers.

The words stick in his throat. They are not enough to convey the depth of his feelings for her. They are just words, much like heaven and hell, and they are worthless. He will never want for anything, as long as he has her.

So, he simply kisses her, hoping that it is enough for her to understand just how precious she is to him.

[transvampireboyfriend]

@steddie-week day 3: discover + first kiss

"There you are!" Eddie says, like he's been looking for him everywhere, his face even lighting up as he enters the kitchen.

"Here I am." Steve shoots back.

Steve's sure that he's wearing a similar expression. He missed him.

After Eddie and Robin graduated, Eddie took a job at a local auto shop while Robin and Steve took jobs at the library and filled out college applications.

During that time the three of them had gotten really close, talking each other through tough times and celebrating what they achieved together.

Steve moved with Robin to start school at the beginning of this year and Eddie stayed with his uncle, still figuring out what he wanted to do with his future.

So, this is the first time they've been apart for months since they met, and Steve did not anticipate how much he would need to see him, to hear him.

The phone doesn't do his voice justice.

Steve puts the dough down to wipe the flour off his hands, but his eyes never leave Eddie as he drops his tote bag on a stool across from Steve.

"Can't believe they left you here with all the work, man" Eddie laments, shaking his head and walking around the kitchen island to where Steve is.

Steve's heart beats oddly fast in his chest as he huffs a small laugh and tries to figure out if a hug is okay in the split second before Eddie pulls him into his arms.

Steve wraps his arms around him and rests his chin on Eddie's shoulder, relieved.

"I don't mind" Steve murmurs, about making the pizza while the kids catch up with Robin and Nancy in the living room.

Eddie chuckles, softly claps his back and pulls away to grab Steve's shoulders instead

"Of course you don't" he says, with mirth in his eyes "How are you, Stevie?" he asks, his head tilting to the side and his dimples showing.

"Hi" Steve says to those dimples he hadn't seen in so long "I mean- good. I'm good" Steve smiles, genuinely delighted. "How are you? How was the drive?" Steve asks

"Ugh, it was hell!" Eddie slumps a little when he says it, his exhaustion evident "but I'm good!" he assures, "you know what I need?"

Steve shakes his head no "What?"

"To help you make like seven pizzas right now," Eddie answers, squeezing Steve's shoulders before letting go. "Where do you need me?"

That's a question.

It's not like Steve hadn't notice his crush on Eddie before he moved away, but he was kind of ignoring it, or at least trying to for the sake of their friendship.

Clicking with someone the way he did with Eddie was rare for him, he didn't wanna risk losing that, especially after so many failed dates; Steve was just kinda over the whole thing.

And Eddie never showed anything more than friendly affection so, really, it was the right thing to do to just, pretend like Eddie's eyes weren't the only thing he could think of when the sun first filtered through his windows.

And he'd thought it would go away in time, and then with so many miles between them.

But here he is again, asking how he can help Steve cook pizza for their friends and Steve kinda wants to cry a bit, because no, of course it wouldn't go away.

If anything it seems distance has made it worse, Steve feels intoxicated by the smell of cigarettes and pine trees.

"Um, there's two in the oven" Steve points out, "and everything's already chopped up, I guess you can help me put the toppings on these next two?" Steve suggests, going back to knead two more bases out of the dough he left on the island countertop.

"Yessir!" Eddie salutes, walking back to rummage in his tote. "I brought brownies for dessert," Eddie offers, bringing out the container "totally safe." he assures.

"I have ice cream too, which I assume im putting there?" Eddie asks, pointing to the refrigerator behind Steve, Steve nods.

Eddie brings out the tub of ice cream and spots something else in his bag "oh and I had olives!" he places an olives jar on the table before walking towards the fridge.

"I thought you didn't like olives" Steve comments

Eddie sticks his head in their freezer and answers "oh, I don't mind them"

Steve fully turns to him with a confused frown "no, i remember you specifically requesting no olives in our pizza for the past, like, year"

Eddie's making space in their freezer, moving things around. He casually says "that's because you don't like them, Stevie" and continues his task like what he just said has no significance at all.

Steve blinks, feels stuck to where he's standing.

Steve had mentioned he doesn't like olives maybe a week after the whole upside down business, when the kids had been at Dustin's and Claudia had offered him salad during dinner, which he politely refused, because it had olives.

Eddie was there, they had all been working on characters for their next campaign and stayed for dinner. Steve had only dropped by to deliver a book Dustin left in his car, and Claudia invited him to stay.

Come to think of it, Eddie had enjoyed that salad just fine.

Steve never mentioned olives again.

And it wouldn't be until a month later that Eddie would first order pizza for them making that specific request.

For Steve.

And it's so silly, it's such a small thing, but all of a sudden a myriad of small things are thrust in Steve's face.

Eddie watching Grease with him, Eddie always knowing how he takes his coffee, Eddie singing along to ABBA in Steve's car, Eddie complimenting the jacket everyone said made him look dorky, Eddie keeping a Tears For Fears tape in his car, Eddie using one of his sick days to help him pack the stuff in his room, Eddie memorizing his schedule and calling him multiple times a week for the past few months exactly when he knew Steve would be home and bored without Robin.

It's like someone lifts a veil off his eyes.

Steve's watched Friday the 13th five times and would watch it again if it was with Eddie, he knows Eddie takes his coffee with a frankly concerning amount of sugar, there's a Black Sabbath record in his room right now!

He's never put in this type of effort with friends before! They either have similar tastes already or Steve doesn't feel the need to match them anyways.

It's different with Eddie, it's like he wants to be connected to him somehow, make sure they're close.

He didn't know Robin liked tea until they moved in together! He knows Eddie categorically refuses to try tea in any form. And actually, his uncle got him thinking about it and he's considering to change that, Eddie told him about it last Thursday while Robin was at band practice.

He's never tried somebody else's music without them asking for it, he's never volunteered to watch a horror movie, he's never worn clothes he thought wouldn't fit his style, he's only ever done that with

"Eddie" he says out loud, it comes out a little breathless but Eddie doesn't seem to notice.

"Hmm?" he acknowledges, finally placing the ice cream in the freezer and Steve catches a glimpse of it as Eddie shuts the freezer door.

He turns to Steve and raises his eyebrows.

"Was that cookies and cream?" Steve asks

"Mhm. Yep" Eddie confirms

"Why'd you buy that one?" Steve wants to know.

Eddie shrugs " 'Cause it's your favorite" he answers, easy.

So easy. Like he didn't even consider any other flavor.

"Why did you buy my favorite ice cream, Eddie?" Steve insists,

Eddie splutters "I- I um, I mean do you not-?" he trails off and looks at Steve's posture, the way he hasn't moved a hair in the last couple of moments must click then. His eyes trail up to meet Steve's again and realization dawns on his face.

"Holy shit, Steve. You didn't know?"

"What?! What do you mean I didn't know? Who knew?!"

"I-! um, everyone? I'm not exactly subt-"

"oh my god!"

Steve can feel the blood warming his face and ears and it seems to spring Eddie back into action.

"I mean! Clearly not everyone knew! You didn't know!" he says walking over to him and running his hands up and down Steve's arms "pfft, practically no one knew!"

"Eddie" Steve wants to laugh but he's afraid he might burst into tears.

"I thought you knew" Eddie says in the smallest voice he's used so far, his hands stilling.

"I'm sorry" Steve says,

"No!" Eddie protests, his hands coming up to grab Steve's face "No, sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry about"

Steve scoffs,

"Of course you didn't know!" Eddie continues "I never told you!" his hands caress Steve's cheeks and Steve thinks his knees might give out.

"So, I'm telling you now" Eddie says, determined. He takes a deep breath.

He looks into Steve's eyes and says "Steve, I am crazy about you. Not a day has gone by since the eighth fucking grade where I haven't thought about you. And since last year, it has been nothing but good things. I promise"

Steve snorts a laugh at that, his hands coming up to hold on to Eddie's wrists as they both shake with soft laughter.

"You have the most beautiful smile i have ever seen in my life" Eddie goes on. "You are the bravest, kindest, most badass person I know, your hair is a fucking miracle and your eyes. god, your eyes. i have tried to find something that even remotely gets close to the color of your eyes and I can't, and I've resigned myself to never finding it because even an exact match would not make me feel the way your eyes do. Because they're very pretty, but it's not about the color. It's just the fact that you're looking at me"

"God, Eddie" Steve sniffles, not sure what to even do with all the happiness inside of him.

Eddie scoffs a soft laugh "Seeing you happy makes me very happy." he explains "So i try to do little things that'll help that happen. That's why I bought your favorite ice cream, Stevie"

Steve smiles at him and rubs circles against his wrists.

Eddie, seemingly unable to stop talking says "it's selfish really, if you think abo-"

"I'm gonna kiss you now" Steve tells him

"Oh, oka-mmph"

Eddie's lips are soft and gentle and Steve has to coax him into being less tentative but once he does, Eddie kisses him insistently, never letting Steve get too far away, like he can't get enough of Steve. It makes Steve's heart flutter in his chest.

When they finally come up for breath Steve tells him "I can't believe you like olives" trailing his hands down his sides.

Eddie laughs, Steve loves that sound.

"I can stop" Eddie reminds him, placing a peck against Steve's smile.

"And I don't like them" he continues "i just don't mind 'em"

Steve hums a disapproving tone but still leans in for another small kiss.

"I only brought them in case anyone wanted them! they were left over I swear" Eddie excuses against his lips. Steve giggles, his hands now on Eddie's waist, toying with his chains.

"You look good today" Steve tells him

"Oh?"

"Smell good too." Steve says, nosing his cheek. Eddie shivers.

"Always do" Steve clarifies, his mouth coming back to kiss Eddie softly as his hands trail up to play with strands of his hair.

"Your hair's so soft" Steve continues "and pretty. You're pretty"

It makes Eddie blush and Steve grins, delighted by what he achieved.

"And you're brave too Eds, and badass, and cool and fun" Steve smiles when Eddie scoffs but once he sobers up he continues "And I think your eyes are prettier than rays of sunshine." Steve tells him "And I think I'd do anything for you" he adds.

Before he can register the way Eddie's looking at him, Steve's being kissed again with an assuredness that makes him sigh.

The only thing that parts them is the oven timer dinging and even then, Steve has to threaten Eddie with no pizza if he doesn't let Steve go.

Steve doesn't think he's ever been happier.

[ahqkas]

Hello dearest author, i would like to request if they are still open something where Theodore is just relaxing with gf!reader. Like it’s a nice summer afternoon, the wind is blowing wonderfully and suddenly gf!reader says something romantic or just “I love you” in Italian shocking Theodore as he was sure she couldn’t even pronounce his native language right months before dating

-♾️

TI AMO ; theodore nott

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

IT WAS A PERFECT SUMMER AFTERNOON, THE KIND THAT SEEMED TO STRETCH LAZILY ACROSS THE HOURS WITH A GOLDEN HUE. The sky was a brilliant blue, untouched by even the hint of a cloud, and the gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass. You and Theo had found a secluded spot under a large oak tree on the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, its expansive branches providing a cool, dappled shade. Summer break was right behind the corner.

Theodore lay sprawled out on the blanket you’d brought, one arm tucked behind his head and the other loosely draped over his stomach. His eyes were closed, a soft smile playing on his lips as he soaked in the atmosphere of the moment. The rustling leaves above created a soothing symphony, a natural lullaby that complemented the soft sound of distant laughter and the occasional chirping of birds.

You were sitting next to him, having his head resting in your lap, your eyes tracing the lines of his relaxed form. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across his face. He looked so peaceful, so content, that you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with love and admiration upon the sight of your boy. The months you had spent together had been a picture of sweetness and joy, and every moment had only deepened your feelings for him.

As you watched him, a sudden thought struck your mind. You had been practicing something special, something that you hoped would surprise him in a good way. Taking a deep breath, you leaned closer, your voice barely a whisper as you spoke the words you had practiced over and over.

"Ti amo,” the Italian syllables rolled off your tongue with surprising ease. You had been so nervous about getting it right, but the words felt natural, infused with all the love you felt for him.

Theo’s eyes snapped open, a mixture of surprise and delight flashing across his face. He lifted his head a bit to look at you, his blue eyes wide and sparkling with emotion. For a moment, he simply stared, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard.

"Did you just . . . ?" he began, his voice trailing off as a grin spread across his face. "You speak Italian now?"

You laughed softly, feeling a rush of warmth at his reaction. "I’ve been practicing," you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly. "I wanted to surprise you."

Theo’s smile widened, his eyes softening with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. He reached out, gently cupping your cheek with his hand. The touch was warm and reassuring, grounding you in the moment.

"You did surprise me," he said in a low tone of his voice. "And you pronounced it perfectly. When we first started dating, I didn’t think you could even manage ‘ciao’ without stumbling."

You chuckled at his teasing remark, remembering the early days of your relationship when you had struggled with even the simplest Italian phrases. "I had a good reason to learn," you replied, your voice softening as you looked into his eyes. "I wanted to be able to tell you how much I love you in your native language."

Theo’s expression grew even more tender, his thumb brushing lightly against the apple of your cheek. "You have no idea how much that means to me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Ti amo, too."

The words, spoken in his deep, gentle voice, sent a shiver down your spine. He always managed to make you fall for him even more. You leaned in, closing the distance between you, and pressed your lips to his in a gentle, lingering kiss.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your little haven under the oak tree. The warmth of the sun, the rustling leaves, the distant sounds of summer — all of it became a backdrop to the profound sense of love and contentment that enveloped you both.

[prythianpages]

Cruel, Wicked Thing | Eris x Reader

summary: you are betrothed to Sawyer Vanserra yet that doesn't stop the eldest Vanserra from wanting you.

warnings: I can't really think of anything? this isn't really fluff or angst, just eris longing. slow burn maybe?

a/n: this can be read as a stand alone imagine but it's a part two to this. I intended the second part to be something else but then I ended up writing this scene and it didn't really fit the vibes I was going with so I decided to just post it separately.

As Eris steps out into the courtyard gardens, his gaze is immediately drawn to you. You’re seated upon one of the stone benches that faces the grand water fountain, the one where he first met you. His steps slow, compelled to take in the sight of you. The sun’s light filters through the clouds, caressing your features with a golden glow as you delicately turn the pages of a book. A gentle breeze rustles through the Autumn trees, creating a ballet of falling leaves and causing loose strands of your hair to dance in the air. As the wind carries the sweet scent of rose and honey to him, Eris inhales deeply.

Among the fluttering leaves, a single one lands atop your head, a delicate crown bestowed by nature itself. Yet, you remain unaware. You’re completely lost to the realm of literature in your lap. The same way Eris is lost in you.

He wonders if he should turn and walk the other way. Much like he has done in the weeks that you’ve moved into the Forest house. He doesn’t want to avoid you but the magnetic pull you exert is thrilling yet fear-inducing. So he's resorted to studying you from afar. He knows you enjoy walking around the gardens, reading and hanging around the stables. He knows you well enough to know you don't belong in a cruel court such as this one.

Yet, the Cauldron has unequivocally marked you as someone special to him and he finds himself wary of the potential depth of affection you might set ablaze within his guarded heart. It’s laughable, how someone as sweet and pure as you is so dangerous to him.

You are engaged to his younger brother, Sawyer. And Eris? He’s engaged in the delicate balance of playing the role of the perfect son—perfect heir—all while conspiring against his own father. He cannot afford to harbor any weakness nor does he want to drag you into the depths of his hell. 

But as he looks around the gardens, he confirms there’s no one else around. He then decides to indulge himself, even if only for a little bit.

As he walks toward you, he deliberately steps on the fallen leaves, allowing them to crunch under his boot. The intentional sound announces his approach and has you looking up. Your eyes widen in surprise as you sit up straight.

“Lord Eris.”

The corner of his lips quirk up and he greets you with the same formality. “Lady y/n.”

His fingers reach out to delicately pluck an orange leaf from the crown of your head. The touch lingers longer than necessary, and “accidentally,” his hand brushes against the softness of your cheek as he lowers it. The lingering contact leaves you slightly flustered, a soft blush creeping up on your face—a reaction he takes delight in.

“I’m surprised you haven’t run away,” he remarks.

Eris knows the past three weeks have been rough for you. He’s not only seen it as you chased Sawyer, your unfortunate husband to be, like a lost puppy but he’s also felt it. On occasion, he sends one of his hounds, Clover, to cheer you up. Even the vicious little creature has fallen victim to you, revealing a softer side in your presence. One she normally only shows Eris.

Your father, a busy and highly esteemed merchant, departed as soon as he signed your marriage contract, leaving you to navigate the Autumn Court alone. Sawyer barely gives you the time of day. It’s a double edged sword because though Sawyer is content with neglecting you, he is the lesser evil of his three remaining brothers. 

Sawyer’s disinterest for you, however, often leaves you vulnerable to his two other brothers, Hunter and Oliver. Hunter, who much like his name, always has a thirst and desire to give chase to anything that isn’t his and Oliver–well, Oliver lusts after anything with two legs. The thought of them touching you–hurting you–sends a fire to course through his veins. It reaches his hand, small flames emerging from his fingertips and the leaf in his hand succumbs to ashes. He brushes them off, feigning nonchalance, grateful that you're unfazed.

With a deft motion, you dog-ear the page you were on before closing your book and gracefully rising to your feet. Upon realizing his attention drifting to the book in your hands, you swiftly hide it behind your back. 

“Why would I run away? Maybe, I’m right where I want to be.”

As his gaze lifts to meet yours, a flicker of surprise and curiosity dances in his amber eyes. Bold words. Unlike you. Despite your hands held behind your back, the subtle nervous twitch of your arm muscles is not lost on him.

“But you’re unhappy,” Eris says and he almost expects the emotions churning within you to come to surface. For you to agree. For you to complain. He leans in closer to you, willing to listen.

You do none of that, though. Instead, you force a smile onto your face. One that fails to reach your eyes. "I'm very happy.”

 “Well, you’re very convincing.” 

“And you’re very nosey.” 

Eris lets out an exhale through his nose and you shrink back, worried you have offended him. The small smirk that lifts the corner of his lips soothes your concern. “I kind of have to be, angel. This is my court and I am to rule over it someday. It is my duty to be aware of everything that goes on.”

“Perhaps, I should start with finding out what had you so captivated earlier.”  Eris adds, eyeing the book you continue to conceal behind your back.

You take a step back, fingers tightening against your book but it’s useless. In a heartbeat, the book disappears from your grasp and reappears in Eris’s thanks to his magic. He holds it up in a taunting manner and you’re running after him.

“Eris!”

A spark ignites in his amber eyes as he recognizes the title, and a chuckle escapes him at your adorable yet desperate attempt to reach for the book. He holds it higher, taking full advantage of his height.

“You shock me, angel. I didn't pin you to be the type to read–”

“Please give it back.” 

Eris pauses for a moment in deep contemplation. You are asking so nicely–begging, more like it. But he finds that he likes the way you’re madly blushing at him too much. He shakes the urge to give into your puppy dog eyes. “I don’t think so…shall I start reading where you left off, hmm?”

Panic flashes in your wide eyes as you desperately lunge forward to retrieve your book. However, Eris's quick reflexes had him turning away, causing you to trip over the pavestone. With Eris's body no longer there to block your path, you found yourself tumbling into the water fountain with a loud splash.

The water is cold and has you gasping, goosebumps rising on your skin. You lift your gaze and though you glare at him, he finds it adorable. Absolutely endearing. He tilts his head back in laughter and the sound softens your gaze.

Eris is still laughing when you hold out your hand to him expectantly. “What?”

Your eyebrows knit together in disbelief. “Aren’t you going to be a gentleman and offer me your hand?”

Unspoken desires stir within him as he gazes at your outstretched hand. In his eyes, there's a subtle ache, a silent wish to offer you more than just his hand. The wave of your hand has him breaking from his thoughts. This time, he takes it. He fails to notice the gleam in your eyes as he does. He doesn’t realize his mistake until it’s already too late–until he’s falling into the fountain and on top of you. Quick reflexes save your book from the water, while one hand is planted at your side to avoid the full weight of his fall.

“Not so funny now, is it?” Your laughter dies in your throat and your voice embarrassingly losing its vigor as you both find yourselves unexpectedly close in the watery aftermath.

Wide amber eyes, bathed in the warm glow of honeyed hues, lock onto yours. His chest is pressed against you and his nose is so close to yours, they’re almost brushing. All you can hear is the soothing sound of running water and his soft breath. You can feel the warmth of it too and the way his chest rises and falls with every breath. 

“You cruel, wicked thing,” he murmurs, voice dripping in velvet, capturing the not so subtle shift in your gaze from his eyes to his lips.

He does the same, also well aware of how close he is to you. Gods, you’re dangerously close to him and as your eyes flutter shut, anticipation charges the air. A mere inch closer, and he could savor the allure of your lips—your pretty but devilish lips. The mere notion sets his heart aflutter. The golden string, binding you both together, seems to tug at him insistently, reeling him in.

Closer, the bond in his chest sings. Closer–

A series of distinct and deliberate chimes has both of you abruptly turning your heads towards the grand clock that oversees the gardens. Eris suppresses a sigh. He has to go but doesn’t want to leave. Reluctantly, he pulls away and rises to his feet, stepping out of the fountain. He then offers you his hand, helping you up. When your shoes slip along the fountain’s tiles, he chuckles and helps steady you by bringing you close to his chest.

“Thanks,” escapes you in a breathless whisper, the frenzy of your mind leaving no room for any other words. 

Once you’re back on steady feet, he distances himself from you, careful not to betray the protest of his heart. While you wrap your arms around your cold, trembling form, your gaze lowers to the book he safeguarded through the entire ordeal. Eris summons every ounce of strength to resist the urge to rush towards you and warm you with his kiss. He has to leave now.

“I’ll return your book to you,” Eris promises, smirking at the small sigh of relief you let out and mischievously adds:  “Once I’m done with it.”

Then, Eris leaves before you can say a single word. Before you can unravel his resolve further. You’re dangerous, he reminds himself. A cruel wicked thing that beckons a wayward soul like his to crave entry into heaven. Not just any heaven, but yours.

a/n: what type of book do we think the lovely reader was reading? lol I do have 2 more parts planned for this little au and maybe more 👀 depending on how the other 2 parts go (they're both inspired by songs and i'm literally just going with the vibes now since I'm really indecisive on how I want to go with this au. I have so many ideas.)

[hyperactively-me]

king!ghost x reader -- home (part 2)

continuation from 'home (part 1)', word count: 6.1k

warnings: descriptions of injuries/blood/bruises, heavy angst, mentions of torture/torture tactics, trauma responses, ptsd, nightmares, deteriorating mental health

You’re awoken by Simon shaking you gently. As consciousness returns, you become aware of the warmth beside you. Opening your eyes, you find Simon, his features softened in the morning glow filtering through a curtain. 

For a fleeting moment, you think you’ve just woken up in your chambers beside Simon, not a care or worry in the world, until you feel the dull ache of your battered body seep into you.

Right.

“Darlin’, you have to get up. It’s time to go,” Simon says as quietly as he can, yet you can sense his tone is slightly stern. 

“We have to keep moving. Gonna go back home. How does that sound, lovie?”

His words pierce through your remnants of sleep, and you finally register the urgency in Simon’s tone. Reality floods back, dissipating into the sobering truth. You have heavy bags under your eyes that could be easily mistaken for bruises. 

You nod, exhaustion still clinging to your limbs. “Home sounds good,” you whisper, your voice raspy but determined.

Simon helps you sit up, his touch gentle yet purposeful. The room spins momentarily, a reminder of the pain you’ve endured. You steady yourself, leaning against him for support. As you gather the strength to stand, Simon retrieves a bag packed with essentials, evidence of the necessity to keep moving.

“How far away are we?” 

“Just over an hour or so away by horseback—”

You wince at that, and immediately Simon is reassuring you. 

“Can’t promise it’ll be an easy ride, but we just need to get you back to the castle as soon as possible, yeah? Gaz is already preparing the horses.”

You bite your lip and nod reluctantly, “Okay.”

With Simon’s assistance, you manage to stand on your own, the room tilting slightly before steadying. Simon slings his arm over under your shoulder and takes a moment to look at you, concern etched in his features.

As you make your way out of the bedroom, you’re met with the kind faces of Soap’s mother and sister. 

“Thank you for everything,” you say, your voice filled with genuine gratitude. “I’m sorry, I was kind of out of it yesterday—”

“No need to apologize, dear,” his mother gently scolds, yet reaches out for your hand to hold it, patting the back. 

Soap’s sister smiles warmly, “Take care of each other. You’re always welcome here.”

Simon nods appreciatively, and you both step out into the crisp morning air. The small cabin provided a temporary rest, but you all knew you had to return home as quickly as possible to receive the best medical attention. 

Gaz is waiting by the horses, their reins in his hands. His expression is stoic, but the concern in his eyes is evident. As you approach, he hands Simon a canteen and a small pouch of provisions.

“Stay vigilant. We don’t know what’s waiting for us out there, but it’s highly unlikely we’ll be met with anything dangerous on the trail we’re taking,” Gaz advises, his eyes flickering towards the dense trees surrounding the cabin.

“Understood,” Simon replies, giving Gaz a firm nod.

You take a deep breath, trying to muster the mental strength for the journey ahead. Simon helps you onto the horse, adjusting his cloak around your shoulders once more. He mounts behind you, ensuring you’re securely in place.

Gaz takes the lead, guiding the horses along a well-worn path that cuts through the forest. The early morning light filters through the leaves, casting a dappled pattern on the ground. The air is cool, carrying the scent of pine and earth.

As you ride, the rhythm of the horse’s gait reverberates through your body, each jostle sending waves of discomfort. Simon’s arms hold you firmly, providing stability as the forest passes by in a blur.

The journey is arduous, but the determination to reach your home keeps you going. After what feels like an eternity, the forest begins to thin, giving way to open fields. The castle looms in the distance, its towering spires a symbol of safety and familiarity.

You let out a sigh of relief when you see the towers, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. How exhausted you were, and the amount of pain you were in weighs you down. 

“We're almost there,” Simon says, his voice carrying a mix of relief and anticipation.

As you approach the castle gates, guards spring into action, recognizing Simon and Gaz. The heavy gates creak open, revealing the courtyard beyond. The castle walls hold you inside their protective embrace,  The horses are led to the stables, and you’re carefully helped down by Simon.

Almost immediately after you dismount the horse, you’re being ushered inside by royal personnel, advisors, and doctors. It all feels too overwhelming, having so many people around you when you just arrived home. 

You start to breathe hard, chest heaving as you try to calm yourself down. Simon, ever attentive to you, notices immediately. 

“Give her some space,” he growls, his protective instincts flaring up. The small crowd retreats, standing quite a few steps behind you two, giving you the room you need to breathe. Simon doesn’t waste a moment, keeping a steady arm around you and guiding you through the familiar corridors of the castle. The posse behind you follows, their murmurs and exchanges filtering through the hallways. 

Eventually you reach the infirmary, sighing when a hoard of doctors rush to receive you. Their faces shift between concern and relief as they realize you’re alive and back. Simon doesn’t let a single person touch you until you’re firmly laying on a bed, and even then, he’s keeping close watch on where their hands travel. He knows they’re just doing their job, but he can’t help but notice your face contort into something akin to fear. 

Gentle hands deftly unwrap the bandages Soap’s mother had done up for you, examining the various wounds and cuts underneath. Another inspects the splint for your wrist Soap’s mother had made, but decides to keep it on as it’s sturdy. The doctors work efficiently, tending to your injuries with a mix of salves, poultices, and heat compressions. A nurse appears with herbal tea, urging you to drink. 

Simon stands by your side, his eyes never leaving you. As they work, you catch glimpses of Simon’s expression—a mix of guilt, worry, and a fierce determination to make things right.

He can sense you’re grappling with the overwhelming environment of the infirmary. The sterile smell, multiple people tending to you, and the constant bustle of medical staff was disorienting to say the least. Especially after being treated extremely harshly at the hands of your captors. He takes your uninjured hand in his, offering a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s alright, dove. They’re just making sure you're okay,” he whispers in your ear only for you to hear.

You manage a weak smile, appreciating the grounding presence of Simon beside you. The doctors and nurses work diligently, their experienced hands moving with precision. The pain is dulled by the herbs and salves they apply, and gradually, you start to feel the exhaustion seeping in once again, having had only about four hours of sleep the night before. The new bandages around your wounds feel fresh against your skin. 

The head physician, a wise-looking woman with graying hair, steps forward. She speaks in hushed tones to Simon, discussing the details of your injuries and the required treatments. Simon nods, his expression serious but determined. You appreciate how involved he is, ensuring that every decision made aligns with your overall well-being. You missed having him around the past few months, having to fully take care of yourself in his absence. Not to say that you never took care of yourself when he is around, but it was nice to know that your husband was looking out for you to the best of his abilities.

As the medical team finishes their work, the physician turns to address you. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal, but you’re in good hands now. Physically, you’ll recover with time and care. Rest is essential for your recovery. Emotionally, that’s another thing. That may take longer to heal.” 

Simon nods, his jaw set. Your eyes flit down, swallowing thickly at the doctor’s words. 

The doctor nods solemnly. “We’ll keep a close eye on you, and if you need anything, don't hesitate to let us know, your majesty. Other than that, you’re free to retire to your bedchambers to rest there. We can accommodate and bring the medicines to your chambers if that’s what you prefer?”

You nod gratefully, the thought of returning to the familiar comfort of your bed sounding like a dream. The doctor gives you a gentle smile before instructing the attending nurses to prepare the needed medications and supplies.

Simon helps you stand, steadying you with a supportive arm around your waist. The room seems to tilt slightly, and you’re reminded once more of the toll the past days have taken on your body. The tea you drank helped slightly with your dizziness, but it was still lingering in the corners of your vision. 

“Take it slow, love,” Simon murmurs, guiding you out of the infirmary.

After a few more steps, the blows you took to your body start to ache even more. With a frustrated sound, you look up to Simon, “Can you please just carry me?” you ask.  

Simon’s expression softens, and without a moment’s hesitation, he scoops you up into his arms, cradling you with the utmost care. The weightlessness is a relief, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent – a musky mix of earthy cologne and spices.

He carries you through the castle halls, ignoring the curious glances and hushed whispers from the castle staff that follow your passage. Simon’s protective embrace is a reassuring presence, shielding you from prying eyes. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his steps starts to lull you to sleep. God knows you’ve needed it after barely sleeping the past few days. 

Simon kicks open the doors to your bedroom and immediately beelines towards the bed. The softness of the mattress welcomes you, and you release a sigh of relief as Simon carefully lays you down. He pulls the covers over you, tucking them snugly yet carefully around your body. The dim light filtering through the curtains casts a warm glow in the room.

Do you need anything?” he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

“Just you,” you reply softly, reaching for his hand. Simon’s lips curl into a small smile, and he settles beside you on the bed. His eyes are fixed on you with tenderness and concern, and he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch feather-light. 

For a while, there's a comfortable silence as you both absorb the fact that you're finally back in the safety of the castle. Simon runs his fingers through your hair, a soothing gesture that eases the tension in your shoulders.

“I'm going to make sure they pay for everything,” Simon says, his voice low and determined. “No one hurts you and gets away with it.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, appreciating the fierce protectiveness in his gaze. Yet, beneath the surface, you just want him to comfort you, stay with you. “I just want to rest."

Simon's expression softens even more, and he nods understandingly. “Rest, lovie. I'll be right here.”

As your eyes fall closed, you feel the weight of the past days finally catching up with you. The torture, the pain, the fear—all seem to blur into a haze as the exhaustion takes over. Simon remains by your side, a silent guardian watching over your sleeping form.

. . .

“Well, what’s it gonna be, hm? Answer me, little princess.” A voice rings out.

You’re stuck, the restraints on the chair biting into your wrists, and you instinctively pull against them, but they hold you captive. Shepherd stands in front of you menacingly, tools of pain and destruction strewn about in front of you.

“Stop, stop,” you sob, tears streaming down your face as the man approaches. 

Shepherd leans in, his face now partially visible, twisted into a sinister grin. “Oh, you know exactly what I want, don’t you, little princess? Information. Secrets. Things only you can provide.”

“Get away from me!” you cry out, desperation clawing at your throat. The room feels oppressive, the darkness seeping into your bones as your heart races.

He picks up a menacing looking tool, running it along the table with a sickening scraping sound. The metallic echo reverberates in your ears, intensifying your terror.

“Not until you talk.” Shepherd's voice is a low growl, and he looms over you, his eyes devoid of mercy. “Ghost won’t find you here. Not ever.”

You jolt awake, gasping for air, your body drenched in a cold sweat. The room is extremely dark, and you’re barely able to see anything. Anxiety is immediately tightening its grip around you, constricting your lungs. Your breath comes in ragged bursts, and you clutch at the sheets, trying to make sense of your surroundings. 

Where are you? Are you safe?

“Simon,” you call out, your voice a soft plea in the darkness. Tears pool in your eyes, threatening to spill over. 

The darkness feels suffocating, and for a moment, the memories of captivity wrap around you like a vice. The echo of your own voice lingers in the quiet room, and then you hear the rustling of sheets as Simon moves beside you.

“Simon,” you say again, louder, now trying to stifle a sob. 

In the hushed darkness, you feel the mattress shift as Simon sits straight up, moving to hover over you. His voice cuts through the shadows. “‘M here, love. Right beside you." His hand finds yours, offering a comforting grip.

You wrench your hand back from his grip, shooting up in bed, breaths quick and shallow. Panic claws at every fiber of your being, and your surroundings seem unfamiliar, even in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. Simon recoils, concern morphing onto his face.

“What—love, what’s wrong?” Simon’s voice is sharp, confusion and worry creeping in. 

You scramble backward, pressing yourself against the headboard, eyes wide and scanning the room. The walls, the furniture, everything is a puzzle, pieces that don’t fit together. The air feels thick with dread. You blink rapidly, trying to orient yourself. 

Simon tries to reach for you again in an attempt to calm you down, to ground you. The moment you see his hand reaching for you, you stumble off the bed, nearly falling down.

“Don’t touch me!” you plead, your voice trembling with fear. Your heart pounds against your ribs, and the room begins to spin.

Simon freezes, his hands mid-air, caught between wanting to comfort you and respecting your distress. His eyes search yours, desperate to understand and help. “Dove, it's me. It’s Simon. You’re safe.”

But the words fall on deaf ears, clouded by anxiety and disorientation. The room seems to shift, and the castle walls close in, reminiscent of the confined space in the dream. Every sound, every shadow, feels like a potential threat.

“I don’t… I don’t know where— I need air,” you choke out, desperately seeking distance from the nightmare that still clings to your mind. Simon watches, helpless, as you retreat further, eyes darting around as if expecting something to pop out of the shadows. 

This is something he’s heard of before, experienced himself. Simon remains on the bed, his eyes tracking your every move with a mix of concern. He wants to reach out to you, to pull you back into his arms, but he knows he must tread carefully. The trauma you’ve endured has left scars, and he’s acutely aware that pushing too hard might only intensify your distress. 

“Darling,” Simon calls softly, the tenderness in his voice cutting through the darkness. “You're safe, in the castle. No one can hurt you.”

You clutch onto the soft fabric of your pajamas, your gaze fixed on some invisible threat only you can see. Simon inches off the bed, moving with caution, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Let me help you,” he implores, his voice a soothing murmur. “We’re in the castle. Look around, love. This is our home.”

Your breathing is erratic, chest rising and falling with each panicked gasp. Simon takes a step closer, making sure to keep a respectful distance. He can see the distress on your face, the haunted look in your eyes.

“Remember, you’re not there anymore. You’re here with me. Simon,” he says, pointing to himself. “Your husband.”

You blink rapidly, the fog of the nightmare gradually lifting. His familiar voice, the gentle reassurances, start to cut through your panic. The corners of the room seem to retreat, and the shadows lose their threatening edge.

“I’ve got you,” Simon continues, inching closer. “‘M here, and you’re safe.”

Recognition flickers in your eyes, a spark of awareness breaking through the remnants of the nightmare. Slowly, your breathing steadies, and you start to fully register the details of the room—the familiar furniture, your bed, and Simon, standing there with genuine concern etched on his face.

“I’m here,” he repeats, now close enough to reach out if you allow it. “Can I touch you, dove?”

You nod shakily, granting him permission. Simon extends a gentle hand, letting it hover in the air for a moment. When you don’t recoil, he brushes his fingertips against your arm, a feather-light touch. 

“You’re back in the castle, with me,” he murmurs, his other hand moving to cup your cheek. “No one can hurt you here. Nobody.”

The reassurance in his touch begins to dissolve your residual fear, and you find yourself drawn to the warmth and familiarity of Simon’s presence. The room stops its disorienting spin, and you lean into his touch, grounding yourself in the reality of the castle. 

You finally sink into his embrace, and Simon pulls you in gently, his arms secure around you. A hiccuped sob escapes you, tears freely falling down your cheeks. He lets you release the pent-up emotions, pain radiating through his entire being. Your tears dampen his chest, his heart constricting when he feels them. All that matters to him at this moment is providing you with the comfort you need.

“It’s okay, dove. Let it out,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm. He continues to stroke your back in soothing circles, offering silent support. The heat radiating from his chest comforts you, pulling you into something real, something tangible. The walls of your bedroom, which once felt like they were closing in, now provide a protective barrier. You’re safe, and Simon is here with you.

As your sobs gradually subside, you pull back slightly, meeting Simon’s gaze. Those ever reactive eyes reflect genuine concern, love, and a fierce determination to be there for you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently, fully prepared to listen. He himself has experience, knowing that sometimes, putting those nightmares into words can be a step towards processing. This is your first of many, unfortunately. 

You take a deep breath, the tremors in your chest slowly easing. “It was... Shepherd. The torture,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. The memories of the nightmare still cling to the edges of your mind.

Simon takes a sharp intake of breath, jaw tightening at the mention of Shepherd, a surge of anger flashing in his eyes. He pulls you into his embrace once more, arms tighter. “You’re safe now. He can’t reach you here.”

You press your cheek against his chest, finding peace in the steady beat of his heart. You run your hands up and down his back, breathing in his scent. 

Simon takes a moment before speaking, choosing his words carefully. “I can’t promise that the nightmares will go away overnight, lovie. But I can promise you this—I will be here for you, through every one of them.” 

You look up at Simon, your eyes locking with his. His sincerity and determination resonate in those brown eyes that have seen far more than what you ever could imagine. A sense of gratitude washes over you. “Thank you,” you whisper, the weight of his words and the support he offers lifting some of the burden from your shoulders.

Simon places a gentle kiss on your forehead, a silent reassurance. “Get some rest, love. ‘M not going anywhere.”

Simon guides you back to the bed, helping you settle in comfortably. He tucks the blankets around you, making sure you’re secure. He remains by your side, a vigilant presence, until your breaths even out, signaling that you’ve fallen back asleep. 

Simon shuffles closer to you, laying an arm over you so you can feel his presence subconsciously. As he watches over you, his mind churns with conflicting emotions—anger towards those who hurt you, concern for your well-being, and an overwhelming love that makes him swear to protect you at all costs.

Simon reflects on the challenges that lie ahead, knowing that he’s going to do whatever it takes to take down Shepherd. 

. . .

Simon refuses to leave your side for the next two days, spending every waking moment right next to you. You don’t leave your bed at that time, opting to have the doctors come to your room to check you out twice daily. The doctors administer more medicines and herbal remedies to you, checking your vitals, your wounds, and your fractured wrist. The castle staff has been informed of the situation, and they treat you with a combination of respect and sympathy. During the times Simon did have to leave your side to tend to important meetings of discussing striking back against Shepherd, multiple members of court would approach him left and right, inquiring about your state. Although Simon didn’t speak much to them, he still ensured them that you would be fine, in time.

Simon attends to your every need, fetching whatever you desire and offering quiet companionship. His protective presence provides a sense of security, giving you peace of mind for the most part.

Another morning passes, and the doctor comes in. “How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to assess yourself. The dull ache is still present, but it's a far cry from the intense pain of a few days before. You manage a small smile, "A little better, I think."

The doctor reaches for a tray on a nearby table, revealing a light breakfast. “You need to keep your strength up, your majesty.” 

You nod appreciatively, understanding the importance of nourishing your fragile body during the recovery process. As you eat, the doctor continues to monitor your vital signs and asks about any specific changes in your pain levels.

Simon, ever attentive, hovers nearby, ready to assist with anything you might need. He pours a cup of tea and hands it to you, the warmth soothing against the palm of your hands. 

After the examination, the doctor offers a reassuring smile. “Your progress is promising, your majesty. I’ll continue the current treatments, and we'll monitor your recovery closely. If there's anything specific you need or if you’re experiencing discomfort, don’t hesitate to call upon us.”

You express your gratitude, acknowledging the doctor’s expertise and care. As they leave, Simon settles back into his seat beside you, his gaze filled with a mixture of concern and affection.

“I was thinkin’,” Simon starts, his tone gentle, “maybe a change of scenery would do you good. How about we spend some time in the garden? Fresh air might help you feel a little better.”

You consider the suggestion, appreciating his effort. “That sounds nice, actually. A bit of sunlight might help.��� 

Simon helps you get dressed in comfortable clothes and ensures you’re bundled up appropriately. Slowly, with his arm supporting you, you make your way to the castle courtyard. Each step feels heavy, but getting out of bed even just for a little bit feels good. The sun, though not too high in the sky, is hidden behind some rain clouds, yet there’s a faint glow over the cobblestone paths and surrounding greenery. 

The courtyard is alive with the sounds of birdsong, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of blooming flowers. Benches are scattered around, inviting you into their embrace. Taking a deep inhale, your lungs fill with the fresh air, invigorating your sore body. 

Simon guides you to a secluded spot and helps you settle on a bench. He takes a seat beside you, looking out into the blissful garden. 

As you sit in the open air, you feel a subtle shift in your mood. You feel a bit lighter, and the combination of sunlight and fresh air brings a sense of renewal. For the first time in almost a week, you feel distracted from the trauma you had endured. The pain persists, but it’s a bearable ache compared to the torment you endured. The weight on your shoulders Simon, sensing the change, smiles at you.

“It's good to see you out here, y’know,” Simon says, his gaze filled with genuine joy.

You return his smile, appreciating the effort he’s put into making sure you’re okay. The garden, with its brilliant flowers and the soothing sounds of nature, provides a welcome distraction. The gentle rustle of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and the subtle fragrance of flowers create a serene atmosphere.

“Being out here helps,” you say quietly, leaning your head against his shoulder. 

Simon nods, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. 

A distant rumble of thunder draws your attention, and you look up at the sky. The clouds gather above, hinting at an impending rain shower. A few droplets fall, and Simon stands up, extending a hand to help you up.

“We should probably go back inside before it starts pouring,” Simon suggests, not wanting you to catch a fever in your already vulnerable state. 

You agree, letting him pull you up. Slowly, you both make your way back to the castle, the raindrops intensifying as you reach the door. By the time you’re inside, the rain is pouring outside, tapping against the windows. 

Back in the comfort of your chambers, you change back into comfortable clothes. The sound of rain is like a gentle lullaby, and you find solace in the sound. Your exertion just from going outside catches up to you, making you feel tired. 

“Thank you, Si,” you say, sincerity lacing your words. 

Simon smiles. “Always, love.”

As the rain continues to fall outside, you settle back into the warmth of your bed, grateful for your garden outside. In this moment, surrounded by the gentle pitter-patter of rain, you find a glimmer of hope and the strength to face whatever lies ahead.

. . . 

You wake up in a cold sweat, chest heaving with each ragged breath you take. 

“I’m right here, love,” Simon's voice reaches you, a comforting presence in the blackness of the bedroom. Your breaths are ragged, and it takes a moment for you to recognize him. His fingers lightly trace over your hand, allowing you to pull back if you needed. You don’t, instead lacing your fingers through his.

An involuntary shiver runs through you, the echoes of your torture still lingering in your subconscious. Simon senses your unease and shifts closer, his warmth a shield against the shadows. 

“Do you want some light?” he asks, his voice filled with concern.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. The room is illuminated by a soft, warm glow as Simon lights a bedside candle. The familiar surroundings of your chamber come into focus, and the anxiety begins to ebb.

“Better?” Simon asks, his eyes searching yours.

You manage a small nod. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Simon’s gaze remains gentle, trying not to let his concern worry you. He shifts to a more comfortable position, propping himself up on his elbow and running his fingers through your hair.

“Nightmares again?” he asks softly, already knowing the answer.

You nod, the images still vivid in your mind. Simon leans down, placing a tender kiss on your temple. 

“I wish I could take away those memories, dove. I hate seeing you go through this,” he murmurs, his voice filled with empathy and frustration.

You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare.

“It's like they never want to let go,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I hate seeing you suffer like this. If there’s anything I can do—”

You cut him off gently, your fingers finding his. “Just having you here is enough. I know it's hard for you too.”

Simon sighs, a heavy weight in the sound. “I wish I could do more.”

Your gaze meets his, filled with gratitude. “You’re doing everything you can. It's not your fault.”

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I just want you to be okay.”

You swallow thickly, nodding in agreement. 

“I felt so alone,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "In that cell, in the darkness…” 

Simon's hand tightens around yours, as if grounding himself in the reality of your presence. "You're here now. That's what matters."

. . .

Simon is more of a man who searches for solutions to issues rather than sitting around waiting for someone to do something. He grew into being a natural leader from a young age, taking charge no matter the cost. In the days that follow, as you continue your recovery, Simon becomes more involved in the plans to get revenge against Shepherd. He spends hours strategizing with military advisors, intelligence officers, Price, and Gaz. The plans are kept secret from the vast majority of the castle, only a select few involved in them. 

Simon’s heart aches witnessing the toll Shepherd’s cruelty has taken on you.

He notices how quiet you’ve been, how withdrawn you’ve been. He doesn’t miss the way your face is almost always twisted into a small frown, or how hollow your normally bright eyes look. He doesn’t miss the way you clutch onto the nearest thing when he approaches you, hands tense and gaze intense until you’re reassured that you’re not being threatened. 

It was enough so that you admitted you couldn’t sleep in the spot of the bed closest to the balcony where you were originally abducted. That same day, Simon had your bed moved to the complete opposite side of the room, and you slept in the corner farthest away from the doors. Simon had also stationed his top knights in front of your bedroom door and balcony doors, their figures menacing and imposing, yet providing a level of protection Simon was satisfied with.  

Some nights are better than others, but for the most part you wake up in a panic, flinging yourself off the bed. It always takes a few minutes to coax you back to the bed, to calm you down enough for you to realize that you’re in Kastron and that you’re safe. It breaks Simon’s heart a little bit every night, the way your face contorts into pure, unbridled terror when you wake up in the middle of the night. 

The knights outside hear your screams sometimes, tensing until they hear Simon’s reassuring voice calling out to you. 

These meetings that Simon told you he was going to, you knew the true nature of them. 

You always knew in the back of your mind that Simon was determined to find Shepherd, enough to the point that he won’t rest until Shepherd pays for the pain he inflicted upon you and Kastron. Revenge is not something you seek, but the idea of Shepherd facing consequences for his actions is a step toward closure. And, unbeknownst to you, Simon had already asked Soap to stay by your side in the days he’s going to be gone. 

Simon refuses to talk about the plans to you, with you, and around you. The plans were strictly talked about in the war room, and if anyone was caught talking about them outside of the space, they would be punished. 

Simon feels as though he’s running out of time to find Shepherd, each day passing making it harder to track him down. 

In the war room, Price’s voice is steady and authoritative. 

“We’ve gathered enough intelligence. Shepherd is holed up in a fortress to the southwest,” Price says, his gaze meeting Simon’s. “The plan is to assemble a team and launch a strategic assault. It won't be easy, but we’re preparing the most capable soldiers we have.” 

Simon’s eyes reflect a burning resolve as Price speaks, looking over at Gaz. His jaw clenches at the mention of Shepherd, his eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and determination. 

Simon nods at Price. “We go in under at night. Stealth is our advantage. We hit hard and fast, catching them off guard. But I want to minimize casualties. We’re not stooping to Shepherd's level.” 

Gaz affirms the plan. “Agreed. We’ll need every advantage we can get. They won’t see us coming.” 

The select few in the room nod, the plan now to be set in motion any day now. 

. . . 

The small specialized force group is abuzz with whispers and preparations, but Simon keeps you shielded from the specifics. He spends every available moment with you, offering a reassuring presence amid his preparations to leave, this time for at most two days. 

The evening before the group is set to leave, the moon hangs high in the sky. Simon enters your shared chambers, his expression tired yet determined. You’re reading a book, encapsulated in the story. Reading has provided a great distraction the past few days. Simon sits in the bed beside you, taking a breath. He takes your hands in his, causing you to drop your book. The warmth of his touch seeks to reassure you, however, the tension in his shoulders doesn’t waver.

“I need you to know,” he begins, his gaze unwavering, “that everything I do, every decision I make, is to protect you and our home.” 

That immediately catches your attention, and a sinking feeling rushes through you. 

“Shepherd will be held accountable, but I want you safe. I won't let anything happen to you.”

Of course. This is about revenge. You really don’t want him to leave, yet a tiny part of you was happy knowing that Shepherd would get what is coming to him. 

“I need to leave for a couple of days,” Simon says, his voice steady but carrying a hint of sadness. Despite the fatigue etched on his face, there’s a fire in his eyes, a determination that both worries and frustrates you.

“I know, Simon. But you can't keep leaving like this,” you respond, frustrated. “Every time you go, I’m left here wondering if you'll come back. It’s tearing me apart.”

Simon tightens his grip on your hands, his gaze never leaving yours. “I hate leaving you, love. You have no idea how much it breaks my heart. But we’re at a crucial point, and I can’t afford to let this opportunity slip away. Shepherd needs to pay for what he’s done, and Kastron and you deserve justice.”

Your anger flares, and you pull your hands away. “I’ve been through hell, and you leaving doesn’t make it any easier. I need you here. I need you to help me get through this.”

Simon's jaw clenches, his frustration mirroring yours. “And I want to be here, more than anything. But if we don't act now, Shepherd might get away, and who knows when we’ll get another chance. I promise, this is the last time. Two days, love. I’ll be back in two days.”

The room falls silent, the weight of his impending departure settling heavily. You feel torn between understanding the necessity of his actions and the desire to keep him by your side.

“I hate this,” you admit, your voice breaking. “I hate that every time something goes wrong, you have to go.”

I feel so alone. 

Simon’s eyes soften, and he cups your face in his hands. “I swear, once this is over, I’m dedicating all my time to you. No more running off.” 

He leans in, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead. “I love you, and I'll be back before you know it.”

A sense of emptiness lingers within you. You can’t shake the feeling of being left behind, no matter the cause. You’re left grappling with conflicting emotions, feeling sickened at the thought of being away from Simon once again with no guarantee he would come back. 

When Simon left to find Shepherd, you didn’t know how much his absence would truly affect you…

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[enbesbians]

'TOUCH ME'

bottom ellie x top!reader

cw: oral (e! receiving), spit play if you squint, fingering (e! receiving), hickies, nipple play, clit rubbing, oral, no use of y/n, reader struggles with self identity

MINORS DNI

if you enjoyed this, read part two and part three.

summary: ellie and you were childhood neighbors, with you battling your sexuality and ellie's being a mystery (she's a lesbian but never told you you've always questioned if your attraction was mutual but there's an undeniable lust between you two that you both choose to act out on. with her being a virgin and you wanting to touch her and make her feel what she's always deserved to feel.

a/n: this is my very first tlou fic... please be kind and if there's any mistakes i truly apologize.

the rain poured heavily, with the strong smell of cement filtering the air— the shiny green leaves fluttering from each droplet while the trees sway at the surprisingly calm wind. there you both sat, underneath the bus stop arch, your mitten covered hands clasping tightly on the plastic handle of your umbrella and ellie's eyes latching on the puddle that rippled a few itches away from her feet.

despite its gloom, it was a weather that you both loved— the grey skies and lack of sun, the rain gave you comfort.

you grew up near one another, meeting for the first time when ellie's family introduced to your family as the new neighbors. she wore some faded band tee shirt and dirtied dark blue ieans with red converse that looked like she had them in her possession for a decade. at first, with your shy personalities, it was a bit hard to bond with one another. the consistent neighbor dinners and (by default) going to the same schools, it was almost like you had to see each other by force. yet, one rainy day during the year you both turned 16, ellie's family was over, with them to be found in your bedroom, briefly talking about the weather.

"the sky looks so sad..." you sulked, your attention fixated on the raindrop covered window.

"it's just the earth leveling itself up. think of it as it's rebirth, the greens will grow... the sun will shine again... you know?" ellie replied, her response sounding very nonchalant, silly even but flowed sweetly, her attention only on her sketch pad where she drew different characters she'd usually draw randomly. she didn't notice what she had said, if it was in any way serious or logical but you took to heart, your bored eyes widening like you had been introduced to a new way of thinking.

"yeah.." you replied.

it was simple interaction. awkward even, but that's how your relationship was. from age twelve to now, both twenty one. there was an evident space between the bench you both sat on, the metal seat feeling like it was freezing through the thick jean of your pants. you turned your head, looking at ellie who usually never notices when you would stare—or you think—seeing flashes of her drawing in her sketchbook—the same stare, her auburn hair fluttering against the light scatter of her freckles that painted her skin. you didn't know why, but you wanted to smile. something about how ellie always seemed like she was in her own world, not paying attention to what surrounded her and zoning out, that's what she always did. you felt different from her- your thoughts were always so loud. jumbled, thinking and worrying, it made you sick, but just from the sight of ellie's peace, her patience and her sense for life felt like a bandage on a wound.

"how do you feel finally coming home?" you asked. you had both went to college with you attending different universities. you were accepted into one a few months after her, during your 18th year (of age), and since then, it was rare for you to see each other. yes, there were glances whenever you both came home from break, but since majority of your time was spent apart in your own universities and dorms, it felt like each time you saw each other, it was like you were strangers.

"weird..." she replied, her response having an elongated pause before turning her head to return your stare.

your heart felt as if it dropped. it was an immediate feeling, sighing out a nervous laughter with staggered nodding and your tongue gliding against your dry lips.

"it also... feels weird seeing you as an adult... you know?"

‘why was she so pretty?’ you thought.

•••

"it was loving seeing you girls! we won't bother you anymore!" both your mothers chirped as both her and your parents situate themselves in your family room. the both of you smile, full from the meal your families prepared, walking upstairs to be greeted by your bedroom. memories flooded you both, with a bitterness filling your stomach, remembering all the feelings you had dealt with in here.

"wow." you breathed. the coldness of the air was sharp, stabbing your lungs, hurriedly needing to escape with an exhale full of tension and worry.

this bedroom held a lot of grief. coming to terms with your sexuality, not allowing a single soul to know. the bed all made up in your dark blue comforter, a plush toy in the shape of a dog probably still wet from your tears you mindlessly wiped against its soft surface. those memories fueled you, your eyes wondering like a deer in headlights not knowing how to remain calm or even face ellie. this room was filled with sin. being gay was hard to grasp, being in the closet was even worse and to have a person you'd often day dream about made it all but impossible to relax.

"there's still that burn spot on the floor." ellie pointed out. the dark mark against the light oakwood floorboard due to you both trying to light a defected firework. it was stupid thinking back, but luckily it had a small reaction, with the floor catching fire for a good five seconds before ellie splashed water from a cup that had been resting beside her.

your attention turned to the floor, laughing, allowing this fond memory of your stupidity bring you happiness. her awkward yet hysterical laugh afterwards and the look of embarrassment when your mom scolded you both. "oh yeah. still can't believe... we did that and how it's still on the fucking floor no matter how much we scrubbed it."

"your mom was so mad." ellie laughed. her low voice rumbling within your eardrums. she turned your way, taking off her big raincoat, occupying it against the door hanger. you did the same.

it was safe to say the two grew into women. your bodies more defined and grown, with ellie's arms occupying itself with muscle and your hips dipping in its wonderful curves, it was hard for you both not to stare. for ellie, she was questioning herself when it came to relationships yet she's never been open about her interests or intentions when it came to partners. growing up, she never talked about boys or girls for that matter. dating seemed nonexistent to her while you on the other hand had many boyfriends. all ellie could think of while seeing your body and how your sweater clasped so heavenly against your frame was how lucky any guy would be to have you.

in unison your eyes drifted apart, looking for something else you could bring up and talk about. unfortunately nothing came along. between every conversation came a long pause, the connection of your eyes lingering each time.

"so." ellie sighed, "ya' have a boyfriend?" the question abrupt but she needed to know, for what reason? maybe curiosity or did the question have a purpose? you and her now sitting on your bed, legs crossed with the familiar view of ellie drawing in her sketch pad she'd always do whenever she came over, with you being drawn, by your own request.

"no."

"no?" her head raised, as well as her eyebrows. "don't believe it." a quiet laugh filled the silence of the dead, cold room, allowing the sounds of her pencil on paper and staggered breathing to filter through. your eyes couldn't look at ellie even if she, herself wasn't even looking at you.

it felt like you were forced not to look at her. your eyes watered at how they bounced everywhere around her, chewing at the loose skin on your lips. you had forgotten that ellie wasn't aware of your own discovery, about you being lesbian, as if at some point, even if not brought into conversation that she'd know that you were and that she was the culprit of your dreams.

"what about you? you dating anyone?" you breathed, clearing your throat as your eyes studied the pen being gripped by ellie's delicate fingers. the way the veins poked through at each sway and scratch of the pencil. she shook her head shamelessly. she didn't have any want for a partner, since she was the type of girl to be too 'busy' to mind. everything she did had a purpose and was too time consuming to venture out into romance. "no, haven't really gotten into the dating thing."

" never see you in relationships." and that was true. your eyebrows furrowed realizing that whenever you hung out as kids or have family dinners, 'no' was always her answer when a relationship was asked. at that moment your heart dropped. is it possible that she was gay too? you wanted to question but you didn't know if that was too forward. it shouldn't be, but it was. a soft broken hum left your throat, your own fingers tearing the side of nail out of nervous habit.

"what about.." the question now being out into the air, your eyes now finding the confidence to look at her concentrated face who has yet to look up from her sketch pad. "a….. girlfriend?"

ellie chuckled. she caught onto your nervousness as she simultaneously felt nerves fill her chest. at a tilt, her head rose, and her green eyes looked up at you who sat erect opposed to her slouch. she shook her head no.

ellie was awkward. you and her both. she rarely showed affection or even got close to people within her circle but when she was given affection, it was always so awkward and hard to watch in an endearing kind of way. the only thing you knew was that she loved to draw, she liked comic books, she knew how to play guitar and her favorite foods, her favorite color. you knew the basic stuff. things a 'best friends' should know, you didn't. maybe if you had just asked, ellie would answer like she had just now. a simple answer to a anxiety filled question.

"you?" ellie asked. with that you couldn't sit still, clearing your throat and fixing your posture, rolling your tongue over the exposed skin of your lips from biting them.

"i…..im... uh." there was your chance. the pale sky glowing off of ellie's face, with anticipation written all over it. she looked like an angel. her stare was strong, piercing through your body with a need for an answer that you seemed to struggle to give. this was now the time to tell her, lay it all out after all these years. all the years of hiding from others and yourself, to tell her that you were lesbian.

the air was heavy and the tension grew. if cut with a knife, emotions would spew, drowning you both.

"can i kiss you?" ellie asked, her voice deep and raspy.

a gasp was given in return. nothing had to be answered to ellie's previous question. your actions showed that this was what you wanted. though ellie's oblivion was high, she paid attention to your body language, your words. she felt your stares.

you didn't say a word, only a slow hesitant nod.

she leaned forward, both of your lips parting, with the creek of the bed as she set aside her sketch pad. the palms of your hands held gently over ellie's shoulders, faces inches from one another as her eyes fluttered shut. a soft press of your lips was given. your gut dropping, finally feeling the lips of who you had imagined all this time. they were soft. they were sweet. you both sat there stiff and still, breathing in heavily, holding your breath, pushing your face in to chase her lips as if you wouldn't be able to again.

noses nudged against one another's, with awkward laughs that made you both embarrassed but the lust between you both overlapped that quickly. "was that okay?" you whispered, feeling ellie's hair tickle the side of your face.

"again" she replied.

"okay."

your lips connected. more eager this time, your faces smashing into each other's, with ellie's hands inching to hold your face. she couldn't though, her fingers curling right before she touched you, lowing her hands into her lap as you continued to press your lips on hers. no movement, just a press. like you had never kissed before. you changed that, your lips parted and your tongue grazed the bottom of her lip. she followed. tongues slipping into each other's mouth with sweet gasps being drowned in your mouths.

it started to get hot, ellie's heart beating like it needed to escape her chest. it hurt, but she wanted more. how though? how could she if she had never done this before? if she never had any interest in doing this with anyone other than you right now? she didn't care for romance, porn, anything of the sort. she knew she liked girls but she was too fearful to pursue them. you on the other hand did. you never explored another woman's body but it shouldn't be any different than being with a man, right? but it surely felt different. your body roared in arousal. the simple feeling of her lips made your body tingle like static. you felt heavy, like you couldn't move. your tongues hadn't stopped, and you really didn't know how to use them. it turned sloppy because of it, your chins glistening in spit, all around the upper and lower part of your lips and somehow beneath both of your noses.

she pulled back, wiping her lips with the sleeves of her shirt, swallowing the large lump she had in the center of her throat.

"can i... can i touch you?" you asked, your eyes still looking at ellie's now swollen lips. her chest heaved at how heavy she breathed, trying to catch her breath from holding it as you kissed. she nodded.

your hands occupied itself at her clothed abdomen, running them up and down, feeling the outline of her stomach. ellie leaned back, resting on her hands, allowing you to touch her. your fingers slid underneath the fabric of her shirt, finally feeling the softness of her skin and the patch of her happy trail that stopped at her navel. she gasped, the cold sweatiness of your palms startled her yet excited her. your hands slowly slid up and down just below her breasts. the tips of your fingers felt the warmth of her bra, cupping them and giving gentle squeezes. you could feel your body shudder, you couldn't believe that you were touching her and with her lips parting, a low sigh filled your ears, you felt like you would pass out any second.

she continued to look at you with her pale green eyes, slightly raising her shirt just to see your hands play with her. you pushed them together, seeing them squish against one another, and the grip of your fingers pressing down into her skin. you leaned your face closer, pressing it right at her center, pressing wet peppering kisses at her cleavage.

“fuck…" she sighed. you could feel her heart racing against your lips as they sunk into her warmth. each kiss was filled with intent, love and affection. opening your lips, letting your teeth graze against it, sucking softly at her skin. her face followed you, a strand of her hair falling down the middle of her eyes, blowing at each deep breath she took. you pulled away, biting down at your lips as you see the faint pink marks coat her breasts.

with your eyes looking directly at her face, watching how her lips parted and exuded a shaky sigh, wondering how it felt to be touched by your hand, does she feel good? as stupid as that question may be, you wanted to know so badly. it certainly made you feel good.

"ah? it... feels..." ellie sighed, the pained pleasure feeling foreign but enticing. she jerked at the sharpness of your scratches, the fresh bitten nails was starting to hurt, but it molded itself into pleasure shooting it directly at her now throbbing clit.

"do you want me to stop...?" you asked, your hands halting.

"no... just wait." she grunted, taking her shirt to see the markings that you had painted on her, it was pretty. looking ahead, you could see the pink tint that resided against her cheek. the hunger in her eyes, the need to continue. "keep going..." and that you did. this time holding her waist, pressing your fingers deep into her skin as you pulled her closer. your hand hovered her jeans, cupping it as you press down at an achingly slow pace and that is when you felt the heat she made at your palm.

"oh my god..." you're doing this. you couldn't believe it. this felt entirely different from any other time you had done this. with men you felt unsure, unaroused like you were lying to yourself. you felt so free and alive yet scared and tensed. ellie's mouth ajar, eyebrows knitted inward as she sucked in air, exhaling a moan.

“feels good?”

“feels good…”

ellie hummed, her fists turning yellow from the tightness of her gripping the bed's comforter. her hips bucking upward barely moving yet rotating it in circles. the friction from your hand was sending shocks up her body and you weren't even touching her skin. ellie felt a thrill like no other. you on the other hand, felt like nothing can stop you (despite your parents walking through the unlocked bedroom door). all these years from your closeted fears, are being in play with the both of you. no confessions, just allowing your wants do the talking.

your fingers grasp the button of her jeans, unclasping it and undoing the zipper, her thin boxer briefs being showing through the heavy jean. you pulled them down, her hips following by lifting up for it to puddle down at her ankles. there, more skin. her thighs, so toned and soft.

"fu...ck" you staggered. it was impossible to think a person like ellie existed. how? "what do you want me to do?" you asked wanting her input since no words were really coming from her besides those godly expressions.

"uhm." she had to think. nothing came to mind though. all she wanted was you to just touch her in any way you wanted. it didn't matter, whatever you were doing already was enough for her. being a mindless virgin pissed her off at this very moment, she wished she could be more or do more. maybe this wasn't enough for you? like she was disappointing you? "you can do Whatever you want, it's okay."

you were in awe. it didn't matter that she didn't know what to do. it felt nice, it felt raw. it felt like this was both your firsts. the feeling of exploring ellie's body made happiness overflow within you. she felt like she was going to explode- her exposed abdomen, with marks all over, breathing so deeply and out of sync. now with her bottom half nearly naked. what a masterpiece.

your hands rest at her knees, running up her legs. your soft calloused hands massaging ellie, with her watching your every movement. the dip that resided at the bottom of her stomach took her by surprise, gripping the deep blue blankets underneath you both. everything went so slow, even still you both savored every second.

you bend down, your lips pressing against the elastic of her briefs, kissing alongside it as you breathed in heavily, inhaling her gentle scent. your finger pressed down at her clit, running it down her clothed slit to feel a patch of wetness. she was so wet, it stuck against her pussy and it's slick was thick, coating your fingers.

"that... that feels good." her eyes closed as she leaned her head back, her chest heaving as she let out deep, breathy moans. "oh god that feels so good."

you continued to rub over her underwear, pressing firmly to feel her clit pulse like irregular heartbeats.

"allow yourself to feel good ellie... feel it." you reassured, your voice vibrating against her pubic bone as you continued to kiss her there. the scent of her arousal was a drug. her body exuded such a wonderful scent and the sound her pussy made just from your rolling your fingers over her clit was addictive.

"you're so wet."

she laughed, biting down her bottom lip as she returned her gaze to you, admiring your face and how focused you seemed to be. "because of you."

"can i do more?" you sigh, your eyes looking down to see the small imprint of her clit puffed out against her briefs. she nodded. your fingers curled at the elastic, her hips lifting as you pulled it down to see her swelling clit. what a sight- the connection of her happy trail to the light pubes that spread at her pubic bone. you could see her clit glisten with her own mess, how fleshy it was and how it sat so nicely above her slick folds. "your pussy is so pretty."

it was better than you imagined. all you wanted was to touch it, run your tongues against it, see what she tasted like and the sounds that could from her mouth.

"im gonna touch it." you announced, your hand inching towards it.

"okay." ellie moaned back quietly, her expression full of lust.

you situated yourself, almost laying down with your hands flatly pressing down on her tense thighs. leaning down, you gathered spit, letting it drop down on her clit, watching slide down her folds. your thumb pressed down on it, letting it circle against it just to see the bud of her clit being exposed as her clit hood would move with the way you rubbed. you could hear how wet she was, seeing her slick run from her pussy and down onto the bed. ellie and let out little mewls. her sounds so deep and seductive, rolling out from her throat more often than you thought she would.

ellie clearly embarrassed at the fact that she's making this much noise, her hand covering her mouth as she moaned into her palm. you would've moved it for the sake of hearing her but there were people downstairs and you didn't want them to hear, only you. the muffled sounds still tickled your chest. your heartbeat was quick and erratic. eyes connecting as one.

your finger slid down with your thumb still on her clit, her pussy lips almost hugging your finger, feeling the warmth she had. "you're driving me insane." she announced, her hips rotating and flexing just enough for her faint abs to seep through her stomach.

"so are you. i wanted this so bad ellie. so fucking badly"

°i want it in my mouth' you thought. 'i want to know how she tastes'. it took everything in you to do it. a few extra rubs and you couldn't help yourself, opening your mouth as you lower your head and latched yourself on her clit replacing your thumb. ellie jerked upward, her hand mindlessly holding the back of your head, letting out a gasping moan.

"oh fuck... oh fuck... oh fuck... god." she grunted, trying to be quiet as her eyes squinted shut. rose painted her cheeks as her hand pushed you down further into her pussy, your nose pressing deeply into her pubic bone. she tasted sweet, taking in all the mess she made and continuously inhaling her natural arousal. your cheeks hollowed itself, feeling the flesh of her clit being suck against your tongue- it twitching vigorously and your chin getting wet from her slick.

"don't... don't stop... please. please don't fucking stop. it feels so good. i don't why it feels this fucking good." she rambled, her words coming out like she were drunk.

her hips continued to buck upwards and grind into your face, humping it as she got off to it.

all of this made you both go crazy. your minds flooding away within the pleasure you both shared. with your lips wrapping tightly around her clit, humming, sending sweet vibrations that made ellie feel as if she was going to see stars. your tongue lapped against her lips, running it over her opening. her hips fucked itself upwards, tilting her head to see your mouth pleasure her. the way they expanded, the obnoxious noises it made. you popped yourself off, seeing how wet your spit glistened against her clit, pulling back the skin from her pubic bone just to see her clit dance as it throbbed.

"do you see that? looks like you really like my mouth." you teased, you both laughing as you watched her clot continued to move.

your finger pressed down her hole, looking up at her as she looked at you, her bottom lip being bitten. "is it okay if i finger you?" she nodded.

"tell me if you feel uncomfortable."

"okay." she hummed.

you smiled, not realizing how wet the ring of your mouth looked but none of you seemed to care about that. "wait." you whisper, lifting your body as your face levels itself with hers, your hands clasping her face as her press your lips against hers. this time, the kiss wasn't shy or slow or awkward, it was full of hunger. your tongues plunging in each other's mouths as ellie tasted herself on your tongue. noses nudging and faces tilting, rolling your tongue at her bottom lip as you bit it, pulling it back. ellie moaned pathetically in your mouth, her hips still moving, needy for your touch that had been removed.

removing your lips, your squeeze her cheeks with your hand, her eyes glassy as if she were about to cry. she was so laced with lust that all she was able to see was you. nothing or anyone was able to distract her from this very moment. she only wanted you. she wanted to feel good by you. she wanted to be good for you.

"open your mouth." you whispered, your eyes dancing along her swollen lips, seeing how she obeyed. you gathered spit, allowing it to drop in her mouth with some sliding down her chin. "good girl. taste yourself with my spit.”

she swallowed it, her eyes doe.

you started to kiss her neck, trailing down to her collar bone then the center of her chest against the faint marks you had already created, unclipping her bra and seeing her fully exposed by your hand. she was so beauty. she was so fucking cute. you could see how shy she was just by this alone but she wanted you to see. she wanted you to see her from the inside out. she felt safe with you. clasping on one breast, your mouth did with the other, suckling on her hardened nipple, feeling her skin mold itself by your sucks.

she grunted, looking down at you as you continued to praise her body with your mouth. she felt the sharpness of pleasure electrify her body, through every vein and blood vessel. her sounds ran through you, soaking your panties and probably even through your jeans. before giving the other nipple some attention, you let your hand go to your lips, sitting on it and hover over her pussy, rubbing her clit once more before you slide down to her opening, rolling the pad of your finger as you teased it slightly.

"im gonna put it in okay?"

"okay."

and so you did. your finger slowly slid into her, watching her as her face formed a pleasured yet unsure expression. her pussy was hot and immediately clenched itself around your finger, her walls beating a you pushed little by little before it was all the way inside.

"you okay?"

"im okay" she breathed while you pressed gentle kisses against her breasts. your finger held still, allowing her to get used to its form before you pumped it in and out. each movement could be her as her slick dribbled out as your finger fucked itself out.

ellie never felt this before and it showed. her body reacted without her realizing it did. she made grunts that didn't understand if this felt good or not but her restraint went away each time she pushed her finger in and pleasure deepened. tightening and dreading your hand, it's pace quickened, feeling her walls brush up against your finger. «it's starting to feel good." she admitted, looking down at her own pussy to see your hand thrusting itself as your finger disappears inside of her.

"good. take it."

your face again in front of hers, foreheads pressed against each others, lips ajar, moaning at each other like that was the only language you spoke. she breathed heavily, her hand occupying itself at the back of your neck, gripping tightly so you wouldn't move. her eyes and your eyes studied each other. they made love with one another, seeing her pupils expand and the green of her eyes disappear.

rub your clit for me." you instructed which she did without hesitation. two fingers pressing down, rolling it over her clit mirroring the pace of yours. "im gonna add another." your ring finger slowly pushing itself in her entrance. little by little both your middle and ring was inside of her until it reached your knuckle, curling your fingers.

"holy fuck. fuck... it really feels good."

you kept pumping. her pussy so loud mixing in with your breathy moans. you created music with her pleasure. lips tickling each other as they ghostly press against one another, breathing down into each other's throats. she could feel her get closer by the second, her toes curling and hips lifting like she was chasing her own orgasm.

"i can't- wait... wait... fuck-" she announced, her body jerking forward as she roughly pressed her lips against yours, needing you more than ever, tongues fighting as they went down both your throats. her body twitch, paused then trembled. the feeling shot through every inch of body.

"cum for me ellie." you pleaded in between kisses. your fingers didn't stop it's pace, they couldn't. you fucked her through her high, taking in all of what she was feeling, moaning roughly down her throat, feeling her pussy tighten around your finger as her walls pulsate. her thighs trembled, closing themselves, capturing your arm almost halting your movements but you stopped her by grabbing her knee and pressing it further down the bed. a white ring formed at your knuckles, sliding down the palm of your hand as she continued to cum.

finally, ellie's breathing started to calm itself, her chest heavily heaving as she leaned back onto the mattress. her breast expanded as she lay and her eyes closed while recollecting herself. the sight of her was perfect. she was perfect. the gloomy sky painting it's light against her skin with the reflection of the rain's droplets from the windowpane. you now know what your dreams looked like in reality. ellie felt so warm and soft and her moans were like notes of a song, so deep and beautiful.

"you did so well." you breathed, giving her a few more pumps before you slid them out. you looked at your finger laughing as you lay beside her, "look." hovering you hand covered in ellie's cum in front of her face.

"oh my god.." she laughed, "i did that?" you nodded and a silenced hum ran through, admiring the work she made and you gave her. her slender fingers wrap around your wrist, lifting her head just enough for you to see letting her lips take them both into her mouth. she sucked them so gracefully, her eyes watching you as she bobbed her head slowly, tasting her own cum.

"you're so fucking hot." you told her, hearing the pop of her mouth as she releases your fingers.

"no you.” she admitted, "but what about-"

"GIRLS WE HAVE A GIFT FOR YOU!" ellie's mother yelled from the family room downstairs. you both jumped up, scattering to clean yourselves up and put on your clothes. luckily you and ellie weren't too loud or but you wished there could have been more. you didn't want to stop, you wanted to do this forever. being with her felt like you were reborn. you felt comfortable knowing that you were able to be yourself, be with a woman and the woman being someone you had long desired for.

[endelineinwonderland]

In the Garden

Words: 2K

Pairing: Paige Bueckers/ Reader

Warnings: Smut, fluff

A/N: I needed to make a formal apology for the angst, or at least thats gonna be my excuse for how unhinged I got writing this.

“You’re the love of my life” Paige whispers softly against your lips, pulling back to rest on the soft grass below. Her breath coming out in shallow gasps, broken by occasional giggles that dance in the air and fill your senses. 

The blonde's face is bathed in a warm glow as the sun filters through the trees above. Her eyes sparkle with the reflection of the light and her hair cascades delicately down to the ground, weaving through the strands of tall grass around her head. 

As the intensity of the moment grips you tightly, you are unable to resist the overwhelming impulse to claim her lips in another kiss. Lowering your body slightly, you bring yourself into alignment with her, just above her hips, and settle your legs neatly to either side of her.  “You’re the love of mine.” You murmur, the words carrying a weight of sincerity that makes her eyes flutter closed for a moment. 

Her hands find their way to your back, fingers tracing delicate patterns that send shivers down your spine. 

A gentle breeze rustles the leaves above, and the scent of wildflowers fills the air, blending with the sweet scent of her skin. 

You lean down, pressing soft kisses along her jawline, moving up to nip at her earlobe. She shivers beneath you, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

You’d initially been hesitant to book the cottage, not overly enthusiastic about being in the middle of nowhere with no one else around. But now, you’re not entirely sure you’ll be able to make yourself leave when the end of the week eventually comes.

Paige runs her fingers through your hair, her touch gentle and soothing. “I’m glad we came here,” she says softly. 

“So am I. I keep forgetting that anything else exists.” You smile, letting the moment take over. 

She hums, pulling you down to press the weight of your body fully against hers before rolling the two of you over, so she rests above you now. 

The sudden change in position leaves you breathless, a laugh bubbling up from your chest. She smiles down at you, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Then let’s not think about anything else,” she whispers, lowering herself to kiss you again. 

Her lips are soft and insistent, you lose yourself in the taste of her, the feeling of her body pressed against yours. Her hands move to cradle your face, her thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as she kisses you with a fervor that matches your own. 

The world around you begins to fade away, as if it were nothing more than a distant memory. There is nothing but Paige, the warmth of her body pressed against yours, the taste of her lips against yours, and the feeling of her breath against your skin. 

You wrap your arms around her, pulling her even closer to you, not wanting to let go, relishing in the fact that you don’t ever have to.  

“I had this dream last night that in a past life we were trees together.” 

Paige's fingers trace lazy circles across the skin of your hips, each touch igniting sparks that send shivers down your spine. Her lips, pressed against the hollow of your throat, send waves of pleasure coursing through your body. “Yeah baby?” She hums out clearly amused, the sound of her voice reverberating against your pulse point. 

“Yeah” You let out in a gasp, before continuing to tell your story. “We were willows, your favorite, and eventually one of us fell after a strong enough gust of wind but our branches had become so tightly intertwined we fell together.”  

Paige presses her body closer to yours, her fingers digging into your hair, holding you tight. You can feel the heat of her body, the way her chest rises and falls with each breath she takes.

“But it was okay that we weren’t standing anymore because we knew that once we finally had gone, the seeds that we had grown when we were alive would be planted again and over time those seeds would grow and more branches would begin to grow. Slowly becoming longer and longer, looking for others branches to intertwine with until one day suddenly we’d both look the right way and they find each other again.”

As you break for air, you stare up at her, watching the sunlight dance over her features and make her fair skin glow. She gazes down at you, a small smile playing at the edges of her lips. “I love you,” she whispers, the words carrying weight despite their soft and hushed tones. 

“I love you too, and I’m so happy our branches finally met again because I can no longer imagine my life with out yours.” 

Paige lifts her head to look at you, her eyes glimmering, lost in her own thoughts and feelings before she leans in again to capture your lips in another kiss. “I really, really love you.”  Your bodies are slotted perfectly against each other, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.

It's as if the two of you are the center of the universe. Your own heart is thrumming in your chest, the rhythm of her kisses syncing with its beat. You're lost in the moment, your senses clouded by her presence. You barely register the feeling of Paige's lips moving to your neck, planting soft kisses down to the hollow of your collarbone. Her thigh moving between yours to press up against your core, however, is unmissable.

You feel your body involuntarily respond to her touch, your breath coming out in shaky gasps as her lips move down your chest. You can't help but press yourself even further against her.

“Lift your hips for me baby,” she mumbles, eyes flicking up to meet yours and you almost groan at the sight. Your respond to her command at once, lifting your hips obediently, the thin fabric of your dress riding up your thighs, revealing more and more of you to her as she pulls it up to rest just above your stomach.

The feeling of the cool air washing over your skin is quickly replaced by the warmth of her touch as Paige's fingers trail up the inside of your thigh. She presses a line of kisses down your stomach, her breath hot on your skin. Your mind is fuzzy, consumed by the sensations coursing through you as she nips at your exposed skin, her mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake.  

As she continues to move herself down your body, your own hands move to tangle themselves in her hair, holding her firmly in place as you arch into her touch, a low moan escaping your lips. “Paige please,” you let out in a low groan. Her name falls from your lips like a plea, a desperate plea for more of her. Her response is immediate, a low hum that vibrates through you as she presses another kiss to your hip bone. Her ministrations pause for a moment as she looks up at you, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "Patience, my love," she murmurs, her mouth teasingly close to where you want it to be.  Your hips jerk slightly as her nose nudges at the edge of the lace covering your core, sending a shock of electricity through you. “Not even doing anything yet baby.” She glances up at you, an amused smirk on her face as her fingers loop around the fabric to pull it to the side. You whine softly, desperately, arching your hips towards her. “Please,” you gasp out, the word sounding more like a plea than a command. 

She keeps her eyes on you, fingers gathering your arousal from your now uncovered core before moving up to circle your clit, slowly, her touch teasing. 

Your breath catches as her fingers glide over your skin, a low whine escaping your lips. She's driving you wild with anticipation. Her touch is gentle, almost too gentle, just barely grazing the places you want, no, need her to touch most. 

Tears pool in your eyes as you look down at the blonde, “you’re gonna be the death of me.” This does it, her mouth finally detaching from your inner thight to leave a wet lick up the center of your slick folds. Her tongue is warm and insistent, and the sound that escapes your throat is halfway between a moan and a whimper.

She's taking her time, her tongue flicking and swirling over your sensitive flesh in teasing circles. The heat between you is electric, and you can't help the way your body responds to her touch, arching and rolling against her mouth. "There you go my love, take what you need,” she groans into you, guiding your hips closer to her face.

She flicks her tongue over your clit, teasing and coaxing, driving you closer and closer to the edge. "Oh god," you gasp, your fingers digging into the grass beside you. Your body is tense, on the cusp of release, but she slows, prolonging the pleasure. You moan, frustrated but desperate for more, pleading for her to finish what she's started, to make you come undone. 

“Doing so good for me, you always do so good for me, don’t you baby?”

When her mouth is finally placed back onto you she's not just pleasing you, she's worshiping you, with long licks through your folds, pressing the tip of her tounge into your core before sucking at your clit, her thumb still constantly circling the sensitive nub.

"God, Paige, please," you plead, your words a mixture of a prayer and a gasp. “Say it again,” she groans, fingers digging into your thighs, holding you in place as she pushes you towards the release you so desperately crave, her every move calculated and perfect.

Her tongue flicks over you, and you can almost feel yourself ready to fall apart. “Oh god, Paige,” you moan, your hands grasping at the grass desperately now.

Her blue eyes lock into yours, mouth never leaving you as she inserts two fingers, curling them inside of you until your hips are almost lifted off the ground, bucking against her desperately, silent tears streaming down your face.

You're lost in the sensations overtaking you, your entire world reduced to the feeling of her tongue and fingers working over you, her moans muffled against your skin. You're completely at her mercy, your body shaking and trembling under her touch. When she finally pushes you over the edge, your orgasm washes over you, vision immediately going white, and all you can do is cry out her name.

The intensity of your orgasm is all consuming as wave after wave washes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake. Her fingers and mouth slow as she works you through your climax, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure from you. You're trembling, every muscle quivering as you come down from the ecstasy, completely spent and blissed out. You collapse back onto the soft grass, breathless, your body still humming with pleasure.

Paige lifts her head to look at you with a satisfied smile, her chin glistening. She crawls up your body, planting a soft kiss on your lips, draping her body gently over yours.  “I could do that for the rest of my life if you’d let me.”

You can feel her body pressing against yours, soft and warm, a comforting weight. You wrap your arms around her, holding her close as you catch your breath. “I think I’d die if you didn’t.”

[sonamytrash]

Temptress

An: As usual, I don't have anything to say for myself. I started this off quite enchanted and romantic, and it turned to filth pretty quickly.

Warnings: Pure smutty filth, public sex, outdoor sex, poor tree, fingering, dirty talk, multiple orgasm, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex, name calling, dom Levi, daddy is used, female anatomy described, porn with plot, but mostly porn. MDNI.

The air was thick with the musky scent of damp earth and the crisp tang of pine needles as Levi made his way through the dense woodland, the sunlight filtering through the canopy above, casting long, dappled shadows over the forest floor.

A light breeze rustled the leaves, carrying with it the sweet scent of newly bloomed flowers. In the distance, the gentle murmur of a nearby stream provided a soothing background score to this picturesque scene. It was in this serene setting that Levi Ackerman found himself, taking a shortcut through the woods as he made his way back from a nearby town where he'd been to buy tea. Suddenly, he heard a rustling in the bushes nearby. Curious, he carefully crept closer, peering through the foliage. There, hidden among the undergrowth, he spotted you, one of the scouts' medics. You were clad in a blush pink dress, your hair loose and flowing down your back, catching the golden rays of the sun. You seemed to be engrossed in your task, humming softly to yourself crouched down, carefully plucking plants from the ground.

You smiled to yourself, your hands expertly weaving through the dense undergrowth. The woods were your sanctuary. You knew every nook and cranny, every hidden path and secret grove. It was here that you found solace from the chaos of the world beyond the trees.

Having studied medicinal plants since you were young, and now, as a member of the scouts medical team, you were able to put your knowledge to good use.

The fabric of your dress was cool against your skin, a welcome relief from the muggy air. You bent down to pluck a particularly plump-looking leaf, your movements graceful and fluid.

You paused for a moment, listening intently to the sounds of the forest. The rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, the gentle sigh of the breeze. It was a symphony that only nature could compose, and you found yourself lost in its beauty.

Levi cleared his throat, making his presence known. Startled, you looked up at him with wide, expressive eyes. "Ah, Levi," you said, her cheeks flushing slightly, "I didn't hear you." You glanced back at your collection, clearly torn between finishing what you were doing and attending to the stoic, dark-haired figure standing before you.

"What are you doing out here?" Levi asked, his voice low and curious. He leaned against a nearby tree, crossing his arms over his chest. You stood up, brushing the dirt from your knees, straightening out your dress as you smiled sheepishly. "Just collecting some medicinal plants," you replied, gesturing to your collection.

Levi arched an eyebrow, amused by your reaction. "I couldn't help but wonder what kind of strange animal might be lurking around in the bushes." he teased, stepping closer. A smirk crept across your lips. "Oh, you know, just the type of weird animal that spends their day's off in the dirt."

There was an awkward silence as you both took in each other's presence. You felt your cheeks flush again, remembering the flirtatious banter that you often shared. Always tethering on the edge of something more. But never had you been alone like this before, away from the eyes and ears of the scouting headquarters.

Levi, on the other hand, couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight danced across your shoulders, and your breasts filled the dress you had chosen to wear highlighting the soft curves of your body, a welcome change from the usual scouts uniform. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "So, did you find everything you needed?"

You nod, your eyes not leaving his. "Yes, I think so. Thanks for asking." You shifted your weight from one foot to the other as you tried to climb back up the rockery, not entirely sure how you managed to get down there in the first place. "You're not out here just to chat. Are you, Levi?" You gave him a playful smile, trying to break the tension.

Amused, Levi didn’t return your smile, but his expression softened. "No, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You know, in case there were any other weird animals around." He teases, reaching his hand out to you for assistance.

You felt a thrill run through you at his touch as he effortlessly pulled you up. "Nope, just me," you teased, your voice a little breathless. Your final step closed the small distance between the two of you, as you laid a hand on his chest for support. The contact sent a wave of heat through your body, and you could feel the strong muscles and steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, "And I'm fine." You assured him.

Levi looked down at your hand on his chest, his own hand curling gently around your waist to support you. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You raise your eyes to meet his, your gazes locked, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between them seemed to crackle with an almost palpable energy, and time seemed to stand still.

No, you were not okay. You were never okay around this man.

Levi's grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, drawing you closer still. Your heart racing. You could feel the warmth of his body, the strength in his arms, and it made you want to be even closer.

"I'm sure," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. You could see the desire flickering in Levi's eyes. It was a look you had seen many times before, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You knew what was coming, and you wanted it. You wanted him.

He took note of your features. Delicate and beautiful, but there was something wild about you, too. Something untamed. You seemed to be waiting for him, and he could feel his heart racing with anticipation.

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" he asked, his voice low and steady despite the pounding of his heart.

You smiled at him. The expression on your face was both mischievous and enchanting. "Maybe I have, haven't you too?" you replied, tilting your head to the side. His hand reached out, gently brushing against your cheek, and you instinctively leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment. "Tch, don't get cocky, brat." his fingers further ghost along the side of your face as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I may be a man, but I still have control over my urges." his gaze smoulders with a hint of barely restrained desire. "Though I admit. You make it damn difficult sometimes."

With a gentle nudge, he guided you backwards until your back was pressed against the rough bark of a tree.

He leans in, your breaths mingling as his lips brush against your own.

You gasp, your hands finding their way to his shoulders. Your lips were soft and yielding beneath his, and he could feel you respond to his touch, your body moving in time with his. He deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out to explore the sweetness of your mouth, and you moaned in response, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He reached around, his hand finding the softness of your backside, and he squeezed, pulling you closer still. You arched your back, pressing yourself against him, your hips grinding together desperately.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, and looked up at him with eyes that were now dark with need. Your hands moved over his chest, his shoulders tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the tautness of his skin. "I want you," Levi rasps, his voice thick with desire. His hooded eyes roam hungrily over your form. "Right here, right now." His calloused hands slide down to caress your curves, igniting sparks of pleasure. "I can't wait any longer." He kisses your neck and nips his way lower until he reaches the valley between your breasts. With a growl, he pulls the fabric loose, freeing your flesh from the confines of your dress. He cups your breasts in his hands, feeling the weight of them, the warmth that emanated from your skin. He takes one nipple between his lips, sucking gently, teasing it with his tongue while rolling the other one between his fingers. You arch your back, hips grinding against him, your fingers tangled in his hair. "Levi," you moaned, your voice dripping with desire.

He watched as you lowered your eyes, taking in the hardness of him through his pants before meeting his gaze again. "Then take me, Captain." You reply, and with a slow, deliberate motion, reaching down to free him from his trousers. You let out a moan at the sight of him, his gorgeous cock, hot and twitching in your hand.

Levi's breath hitches as you free his throbbing erection as his grip on your waist tightens. "You're a fucking temptress, you know that?." he growls, pressing you harder against the tree. He reluctantly leaves your nipple and captures your lips in another hungry kiss, his hips instinctively bucking into your touch. One hand continues to caress your plump breast while the other slides beneath your dress, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Pulling away briefly, he murmurs against your lips, "You're going to be the death of me," His voice is thick with want. "Humanities strongest soldier, reduced to this by a fucking siren. Tsk." With that, he spins you around, pinning you firmly against the tree, hiking up the skirt of your dress, his hard length presses insistently against your backside as his nimble fingers work to divest you of your undergarments, a satisfied smirk painted accross your lips the entire time. "But what a way to go." He relishes the feeling of the heat of your skin and the dampness between your legs. You gasped, your hips moving restlessly against his hand.

He bunches your dress up around your waist, revealing the curve of your rear. "And what a tempting sight," he murmurs, his hands caressing your supple flesh, parting your folds with his fingers, teasing you and circling your sensitive bud. You cry out, hips bucking against his hand. He presses one and then two fingers inside you, feeling your tight, wet cunt. You were so ready for him, so desperate for release. He slides his fingers in and out of you, in time with his thumb, circling your clit, as you moaned and writhed beneath him, your hands gripping the bark of the tree. Levi's fingers curl inside you, stroking all of the right spots. A guttural groan escapes his lips as he feels your silken walls clenching around his digits.

Your body arched, your back bowed as his name spilt from your mouth, and then you came, your voice shattering the tranquillity of the woods. Your muscles spasmed around his fingers, and your breath came in ragged gasps as the pleasure coursed through you. Levi's eyes flash with wicked delight at your wanton display.

"You have no idea what you're in for, pet." He growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as you catch your breath. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, he sinks his cock into your slick heat, stretching and filling you deliciously. Your body still sensitive from your first orgasm. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he hilts himself fully. "Levi!" You cry throwing your head back.

"Fuck, yes," he groans, pausing momentarily to allow you to adjust to his impressive girth. Then, with a sharp snap of his hips, he begins to pound into you relentlessly, "That's it, let me hear those delicious sounds."

A guttural moan escapes his lips at the sensation of your velvety walls enveloping him. He fills you completely, stretching and satisfying your aching need as you moan loudly for him.

Bracing his hands firmly around your hips, he begins to thrust into you with deep, powerful strokes, his hips snapping forward with a primal urgency. "You feel so fucking good," he growls through ragged breaths mingle with your desperate moans, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the air around you. "So hot and tight around my cock."

He sets a hard, relentless pace, pounding into you against the tree. His mouth latches onto the delicate skin of your shoulder, sucking and nipping, determined to mark you as his. One hand snakes up to knead your heavy breast as they bounce and slap one another from his assault. His other hand clutches your backside, pulling you flush against him with every powerful thrust.

"Levi...it feels so good," you mewl, He leans forward, his chest pressing against your back as he grunts with each powerful thrust. "That's right, keep saying my name with that pretty little mouth." he commands, his voice rough with lust.

His hand snakes from your breast to your clit, stroking it in time with his ruthless thrusts.

"You feel so fucking good, taking my cock like this," his breath hot against the back of your neck. His teeth graze the sensitive skin there, no doubt leaving his mark. Levi's pace becomes increasingly frantic as he drives into you, his hips snapping sharply. Each powerful thrust elicits a wanton moan from your lips, driving his lust even higher.

He slams into you with bruising force, his hips snapping against your rear with each powerful thrust. The pressure and friction is delicious, and he can feel your walls fluttering around his throbbing shaft.

You arched your back, crying out his name as you came, your body shuddering with release. He continues to thrust into you relentlessly, feeling your body relax and then tense again with each thrust, your wet heat enveloping him as he continues to apply pressure to your clit expertly allowing you to ride out your orgasm. And then, just as you thought it couldn't possibly get any better, you felt it building again as you allowed the overstimulation to consume you, a second wave, and with it, the rush of hot liquid that trickled down your legs leaving you breathless and astonished as you moaned breathlessly beneath him, you inner walls desperate to milk his cock. Levi felt the fluid spill over his hand and smirked, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste your essence, "Dirty fucking girl," he says with a groan of pleasure, "I don't think you even knew you could do that." He comments seductively as he his thrusts grew more frenzied, his hips slapping against your ass with an urgency that left you both gasping for breath. "Give daddy one more." As he reaches down to rub your clit again, you mewl at the contact of his wet, slippery fingers returning to circle the already sensitive nub. He feels your body quickly contract around him, your muscles gripping him in a vice-like hold again. You felt yourself losing control, tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks, "Don't stop, daddy please" you mewled, the words effortlessly rolling from your lips. With a loud cry, your body convulsed, your muscles tensing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. "Fuck, that's it. Milk my cock dry." His thumb circles your swollen clit as he chases his own release. Consumed with feral satisfaction at the sight of your debauched state. "You're such a good slut for daddy." With a final few deep thrusts, Levi buries himself to the hilt, spilling his seed deep inside, moaning your name as empties himself into you.He holds you flush against him, painting your walls with his hot, thick cum.

Levi's chest heaves as he catches his breath, his grip on your hips unwavering. "Tch, look at the mess we've made," He gazes down at you with a glint in his eyes. "But I have to admit, it's a sight I quite enjoy." 

You blush furiously at the events that have just unfolded. Your sweat-slicked bodies pressed together, hearts racing, and your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Your grip on the tree had turned your knuckles white as you turned to meet his gaze. "Guess I'm not the only animal around here."