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tastefulstars · 11 months ago

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All That And More [chapter two]

gender neutral!reader x oc!male werewolf a/n: this is my story The Colder The Nights, The Warmer Your Hands updated and rewritten, and it didn’t feel right to keep the name the same. Dividers by @firefly-graphics w/c: 2,169 c/w: death of a relative, grief and mild depression. masterlist

[previous]

Aylesbury was a small town, nestled in at the base of mountains and forests. It was one of those picturesque story-book type of towns, with rows of little houses surrounded by gardens and wooden fences. It was small enough that everyone knew everyone but large enough that there was space between neighbours - the main hub of the town was lined with the town hall, a small library, a single grocer, post office, a cafe, a few little shops selling odds and ends, and a lovely park filled with flowers, benches and play equipment.

Your new cottage was slightly further up the mountain than the rest of the homes, a little further out from the main cluster of buildings but you didn’t mind, after living in townhouses and apartments your whole life, the space and privacy was a nice reprieve.

You took your time driving to Aylesbury, enjoying the scenery change from bustling cityscapes to countryside towns to rolling hills and looming forests. It was well into the morning when you finally drove past the Welcome to Aylesbury sign and you were unsure how to get to your new home. Pulling off to the side of the road, you pull out the address and maps Justin Sanders had provided you with.

You were so focused on the map that you hadn't noticed the approaching stranger until they knocked on your window, making you startle, a yelp slipped past your lips and you press your palm against your pounding chest. The man leans down and inspects you through the window, your breath catches in your throat - the man watching you looked exhausted, his skin dull with dark circles under his unfocused eyes. Everything about him seemed disheveled, his hair, his beard, his clothes - he was handsome, no doubt about it but he also looked like he needed a good sleep making you want to cook him a good meal and tuck him into bed. You feel surprised at your reaction to him, unsure and nervous. His lips curl downwards and he gestures for you to lower the window.

You feel yourself fluster, realising you were just staring at him wide-eyed so you quickly wind down the glass separating the two of you.

“Y’lost?” He says, voice gravelly and as rough as he looked.

“Um, I - Kind of? I’m moving into my cottage up the mountain,” You explain, you can feel the strangers eyes raking over you and you want to squirm.

“‘Melda’s place? Heard she passed,” He looks down and your throat closes up, glancing back at you he continues, “Just up the road on the left, can't miss it.”

You give him a weak smile and thank him, not wanting to linger and hear the usual condolences from him, you mutter an awkward goodbye and wait for him to move far enough away for you to pull back onto the road.

You find the turn off easily, following the long and winding road until the bitumen turns into gravel which turns into dirt. You drive carefully, slowly, and once you take the final curve, your new home comes into view. You thought the city house was beautiful but this was on another level - a stone cottage sat in the middle of a small clearing, surrounded by the trees that made up the forest. You could spy a few stepping stones amongst the grass and It was clear to you that there used to be defined garden beds but they were now overrun with grass, weeds and a riot of colourful flowers.

An unruly hedge lined the right side of the cottage, grown wild and large, which covered most of the window while a wisteria grew on the left side of the house - its vines reached the roof and had twisted around the corner of the building and covered the majority of windows along the left side of the house. It looked beautiful, twisting branches and green leaves with those delicate purple flowers and you were devastated at the idea of trimming it.

You step out of your car and you take in the floral perfume and the scent of the grass and trees. You take a moment to absorb everything before carefully making your way to the front door, stepping over gnarled roots and broken stones.

Your heart leaps up to your throat as you slide the key into the lock, nerves swirl around your stomach and excitement makes your hands shake slightly.

The cottage was dusty and dim due to most of the natural light blocked by the overgrown plants outside. You flick the light switch and sigh, grateful that your lawyer had the forethought to help you arrange the basic amenities like electricity, gas, and water before you made the trip.

The air inside is stale and smells vaguely musty, a layer of dust coats every surface but the furniture was covered with white protective sheets. You prop the door open with the hopes that the cottage will air out as you continue further in.

You continue to inspect your home, checking each of the rooms - two bedrooms, one bathroom, the living room, kitchen with attached dining area, and a sunroom. The inside of the cottage was well kept and only really needed a good clean which lifted your spirits, not really wanting to have to replace walls or windows.

You choose your bedroom and begin to clean, wanting somewhere comfortable to sleep after the long drive. It's early evening when you settle for the night, bedroom in an acceptable state for now and bathroom scrubbed clean. Your muscles ache and you can feel the long day catching up to you; a warm bath and an early night sounds like heaven to you.

It becomes your routine for the next few days - wake with the sun, spend a few hours cleaning and sorting through Imelda’s possessions while bringing your own in from your car, eat a small lunch made from the meager groceries you had brought with you, continue to clean and arrange before settling down for the night with a hot bath, warm drink and sleep.

It's almost five days after you arrived that you make a trip down to the town, finally running out of food and needing more supplies to continue cleaning, as well as wanting to find somewhere to donate a few items that you did not need.

You park your car on the main street, clutching your shopping bags like a lifeline. Glancing around you as you walk, you see people staring at you. You can feel their gaze on you and hear soft whispers as you walk past, your eyes burn and your jaw clenches. You want to run back to your car and go home but you need food, and you can't keep boxes of your Aunts’ old clothes in your car forever, so you blink away the tears and pick your pace up.

A bell hangs on the door handle of the grocer and it tinkles as you push it open. The cool air greets you and you can feel your emotions settling down now you're away from prying eyes. You're grabbing a basket when a cheerful voice greets you.

“Hi there! I haven't seen you around before, just passing through?”

You look over at the woman standing besides the counter, a box of items at her feet. She's middle-aged, with long dark hair streaked with silver and white. Her skin is textured and laugh lines surround her eyes which are warm and kind. Her demeanor puts you at ease and you introduce yourself, explaining that you've just moved into your late aunt's cottage.

Her smile dims slightly at the mention of Imelda but she doesn't offer any empty words which you're grateful for.

“Well, it'll be a treat to have a new face around here!” She says, smiling wide again, “I'm Donna, I own the store. You need anything, you just let me know, alright?”

You smile politely before you make your way around the store, gathering items you'd need. As you wander you hear the bell ring and then Donna's voice, the soft murmurs of a hushed conversation fill the store.

It doesn't take long for your basket to fill and become heavy - overflowing with fresh vegetables and fruits, pantry staples like flour and rice, oil, and spices. Rounding the aisle, Donna and her companion fall silent, turning to watch you as you approach.

“Found everything you need?” Donna smiles.

“Uh, no. This is just too heavy, can I leave it here while I get the rest?” You glance at the stranger, smiling awkwardly when you realise they've been staring at you the whole time.

“Oh, of course!” Donna throws her hands out as if she's about to take the basket from you before gesturing to the counter, “Pop it here, Hun! This is Edan, by the way.”

She introduces you to the man who grunts at your greeting. Your stomach falls, realising that the entire town is probably going to react to you in a similar way. He watches as you shuffle around him and reach for a new basket, you feel his gaze burning your skin until you move down an aisle. The hushed conversation begins again.

You feel your shoulders tense and you chew on your lower lip, trying to convince yourself that they’re not talking about you, making you feel like you were intruding on this peaceful little town. The doorbell rings again, and you assume that Edan had left and you hate that you feel easier knowing it was just yourself and Donna in the store. You relax your shoulders and continue gathering your shopping.

Returning to Donna, you observe her as she rings up your items before placing them into your bags and you’re overcome with the irrational need to make her like you. She chats with you as she works, her easy kindness and openness has you feeling like you’ve known her for years rather than a handful of minutes. With each question she asks, you feel as if she’s genuinely interested in you as a person, that she wants to get to know you.

You bask in her warmth and kindness for those few moments.

“Don’t be a stranger, alright?” She tells you as she hands you back your change and receipt, and for the first time in a while, you feel as if there’s someone who cares about you.

Arms laden with heavy shopping bags, you say your goodbyes and turn to leave, the man that gave you directions when you first arrived opens the door. He’s even larger and feels more imposing than you remember; taller, thicker. His flannel strains over his shoulders, is tight across his chest, and he looks just as wild as you remember with long, messy hair and beard.

His eyes find yours and you’re unsure if you should feel small under his intense gaze or if you want to keep his attention forever. He steps to the side, holds the door open and watches you. You smile at him, murmur a thank you and slide past him - you try not to touch him but your arm grazes his stomach as you pass, the warmth radiating from him has you wanting to lean into him. He shifts a little bit and takes a deep breath, you bite your lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises and hurry your steps up. You throw a smile over your shoulder, noticing the way his eyes drop to your lips.

It doesn’t take you long to return home and begin to unpack and arrange your pantry which takes longer than it should have but you’re left satisfied at a job well done by the end.

You make a cup of tea before heading out to the front of your cottage. You’re eager and excited to begin the yardwork, unsure where to start and dreaming of the day you could say your garden was perfect.

You could almost picture it as you stood there, mug warming your hands. A small knee high fence marking the boundary of your yard, a few raised garden beds lined up at the back most part of the yard for growing herbs and vegetables, a lemon tree in the corner beside them, a little bench under the largest tree to your left, colourful flowers in their garden beds, maybe a little green house off to the right, and some stepping stones from the back door leading you throughout the garden.

You feel yourself relaxing, leaning against the stone wall and listening to the sounds of the forest surrounding you when movement in the trees catches your eye, an animal slinks through the trees; you tense, worried about wild animals and danger before you can make out the general shape of a large dog - perhaps a wolf. You watch from your perch beside your front door as it weaves its way through the trees, deeper into the forest until you lose sight of it.

[next]

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tastefulstars · 11 months ago

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All That and More [Chapter One]

Your last living relative passes away, leaving you with a substantial inheritance. Your life changes overnight, hopefully, for the better.

gender neutral!reader x oc!male werewolf a/n: this is my story The Colder The Nights, The Warmer Your Hands updated and rewritten, and it didn't feel right to keep the name the same. Dividers by @firefly-graphics w/c: 1,789 c/w: death of a relative, grief and mild depression. masterlist

A dull grey light broke through the gap in your curtains, not quite enough to be the first light of the day but enough for you to wake - the early moments of dawn.

Using your feet to kick the covers off your body, you let out a groan as you force yourself upright. You press your hands against your face for a moment, the warmth of your palms and the darkness they provide almost has you slipping back into a light doze. Another quiet groan slips from your lips and you scrub your hands against your face, rubbing at your eyes and you yawn.

You glance at the time as you shuffle your way to your kitchen, too early to be awake and yet, despite this - you don't seem to have enough hours in the day. You begin your morning routine, the motions familiar enough for you to fall into a half-sleep as you make breakfast.

How much longer can I keep doing this?

The thought rolls around your mind absently, it's not the first time you've thought it. You're exhausted and it doesn't seem to matter what you do or how hard you work, or how much you sleep on the weekends - you can't escape it and you're beginning to realise something needs to change or you’ll collapse.

You feel numb as you finish preparing for your day, as you drive to work, as you settle down at your desk - despair wells up in your chest and you question if this would be your life; working from sunrise to sunset, the crushing weight of exhaustion dogging your steps, your boss adding more and more to your already heavy work-load, the loneliness of coming home to a cold, empty apartment.

Your lunch break isn’t much of a break - it's just enough time for you to quickly eat and check your phone. You frown at the notification of two missed calls from an unknown number but you don’t have the time to investigate further, you can feel the burn of your boss’s eyes already. It slips your mind as you refocus on your work, the hours slip by you as you stare at the computer screen.

It’s dark by the time you’re shutting down your computer and packing away your belongings, your eyes burn, your back aches and your head is pounding. The drive home is quick thanks to the late hour and before you know it, you’re shuffling into your apartment. Sitting on the couch, you eat slowly and scroll through your favourite apps when your intercom begins to buzz. Your eyes slip closed and you think for a moment that you can just pretend that you didn’t hear it but the buzzing seems to grow louder and more annoying as the seconds pass.

You lean heavily against the wall as you press the answer button, eyes closed.

“Hello? Can I help you?”

“Good evening, my name is Justin Sanders. I’m a lawyer here on behalf of your Great Aunt Imelda. I apologise for disturbing you so late but I have some important things to discuss with you and haven’t been able to get in touch with you via phone. May I come in?”

It takes a moment for you to process what is being said to you and if you hadn’t been so tired you might have thought twice about letting in a stranger so late at night, but you were and instinct had you pressing the button to let him in. You stay leaning against the wall until there’s a firm knock at the door.

Opening it, your eyes land on the man claiming to be your Aunt Imelda’s lawyer - a well dressed, well groomed man but despite his pressed suit and fancy watch, he looked absolutely average. There were features of his face that stood out but only once you looked at the individual features rather than his face as a whole - buzzed brown hair, brown eyes with a nose that was slightly hooked at the end and crooked along the bridge like he’d broken it one too many times, and his lips were slightly too small for his face.

You realise you’re probably taking too long to greet him and step aside, gesturing at your tiny, cluttered table for him to take a seat. He places his briefcase down before offering you his hand.

“Thank you for meeting with me, again - I’m very sorry to have to do this so late. I usually wouldn’t have but I’m afraid this is urgent, and important.”

You sit beside him, the tiny table making the situation feel intimate and uncomfortable, and rub your eyes, wanting nothing more than to tell him to leave and climb into bed.

“It’s fine,” you sigh, “Is Aunty Imelda okay? Why are you here?”

You were curious, you weren’t overly close with her but you liked her well enough. You could recall moments in your childhood when you would visit her with your parents - there was always something new, something big and adventurous with Imelda and you adored her for it, but that was a long time ago.

“I-” Justin starts before cutting himself off, softly sighing, “I’m so sorry to inform you, but your Great Aunt has passed away, I’m here to execute her will.”

“Oh”

You weren’t sure if it was how burnt out you felt, or if you were just numb to everything at the moment but the news just washed over you with little emotional response.

“Would you like a moment? Can I get you anything?” Justin asks softly, he seems genuine in his remorse with an air of sympathy and understanding.

“No, I’m okay, thank you though. If it’s alright, let’s just go ahead and go through what you need to. It’s been a long day.”

Justin observes you for a moment before nodding, reaching for his briefcase and popping open the locks.

“Of course,” He removes a stack of papers and places them onto the table, “You are the only living relative of Imelda and she has left her entire estate to you.”

Something sparks in your chest, loneliness and grief, at the acknowledgement that you were entirely alone.

“Imelda owned a property in Aylesbury,” Justin continues, rifling through his papers until he finds what he was looking for and hands it to you, “It’s a lovely cottage with some land, nestled in near the forest.”

You look at the papers and your eyes skim over the titles, deeds, contracts to the house, you’re not entirely sure what it all means and you’re beginning to feel overwhelmed. Justin’s voice brings you back to yourself and you look back at him, eyebrows raising in shock as he continues to list items you’ve been given.

“She also left you her property in the city, where she was residing until her passing, a beautiful brownstone. All the items within both residences, as well as two vehicles and all of her monetary assets are yours. You are inheriting everything, her total estate values to just under ten million dollars - I have the exact number here.”

Justin hands you another paper and you stare at the number written, eyes wide. It was a lot. Enough for you to live comfortably without having to work again.

“Is this a joke?” Your voice is weak and you can hear your own disbelief - no doubt Justin could as well.

Justin smiles softly at you and shakes his head, your stomach flips.

“No. I understand it’s a lot to take in, there is some paperwork involved to transfer everything into your name. Would you like to go through it now or would you like to schedule an appointment in the next few days?”

You take a moment, staring unseeing at the piles of paper on your table, emotions and mind a whirl. You hadn’t seen Imelda in years and she was giving you a life-line, a way out of this dreary existence; you could quit your soul-sucking job, could take a vacation, could get out of the claustrophobic city. You could live rather than exist.

You lift your gaze and set your shoulders, despite your weariness, you felt more alive than you had in years.

“Lets get started now,” You stand and move to the kitchen, “Would you like a drink? I’ve got coffee, tea, and water.”

Justin stands to remove his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of his chair, he smiles at you as he rolls his sleeves up.

“A tea would be lovely, thank you.”

The two of you go through every last thing, Justin taking the time to explain the more confusing legal jargon, and by the end of it - you had signed everything, understood everything. By the time Justin leaves, it’s the early hours of the morning and you absolutely refuse to go to work before you crash face-first onto your bed, not bothering to change.

Sleep takes you quickly.

The next days pass in a blur after calling in sick for the rest of the week. You sleep a lot. Justin keeps in contact with you, updating you with how the transfer was going and organising a day for the two of you to inspect the city property and vehicles.

It’s a few days after the initial meeting with Justin when you meet him at his office, feeling light and well rested. Imelda’s home in the city takes your breath away. It was beautiful, filled with stunning artworks, furniture, books, plants, clothes and knick-knacks. Justin left you to it, giving you space to go through Imelda’s belongings without a stranger hovering over your shoulder.

Being surrounded by Aunt Imelda’s possessions for days on end left you feeling drained. The grief and loneliness welled up at random moments, usually when you were sorting through books or photo albums, and you had to stop and let yourself weep over your lost family.

Weeks pass as you sort through things you’d keep, donate, sell and place in storage - you put your notice to resign in and your last day felt like stepping out of a prison into freedom. It doesn’t take you long to decide that the city property wouldn’t be your home and you decide to make the move to Aylesbury. The prospect frightened and excited you, you weren’t leaving anyone or anything of value but the idea of moving to an unknown town, filled with unknown people, and the unknown state of the cottage was daunting.

You spent some time sorting through your own apartment, cleaning and donating things you wouldn’t need and a few months after Justin Sanders showed up at your apartment, you were packing your car and preparing to make the move to your new home.

----

[next]

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tastefulstars · 11 months ago

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i've decided to fix up the colder the night, the warmer your hands and continue the story :))

#i:misc #tbd

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tastefulstars · 1 year ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/tastefulstars/756044446995464193/my-darling-cat-is-14-years-and-6-months-and-shes

TIME TO PUT THAT MF DOWNNNN

Why? If it was affecting her quality of life and there wasn't any way to assist with medication I would consider it but she's still healthy despite not being able to move as much as she could when she was younger, and the medicine she's on helps with the inflammation.

#star answers #theres no need to be rude

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tastefulstars · 1 year ago

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my darling cat is 14 years and 6 months, and she's got arthritis in her elbows and spine :(((

#i:misc #shes my darling baby angel

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tastefulstars · 1 year ago

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Hi, loved your sub Billy Hargrove fics ;) could I request something similar where reader is still in control but a much softer version ? So no degradation play/kink if that makes sense. Like, I wouldn't even call it "take control", it's just her being extremely gentle with him and taking the lead and let him just be himself, get lost in the moment, show him that sex doesn't have to be performative. Passionate, affectionate, loving sex. He loves it so much that he ends up crying. And it would be great to see HIS perception of all of this. In so many smut fics the focus is on how horny reader feels, how much pleasure she is in etc, and it would be cute to focus on Billy you know. I want all the sweet details lol. This boy needs so much love. Thank you so much ;)

Im not entirely sure if this is what you wanted but here we go :))

unedited as always but so full of love for baby boy billy.

It wasn't unusual for Billy to be pinned to the bed by you. He didn't mind, liked it even, when it was you.

The first time it happened - firm hands guiding him above you with a simple demand - had his brain going quiet, his body shaking with the need to follow your orders. You had him feeling so weak and he was hopeless, he needed you like he needed air - needed you to help him settle the angry noise in his mind that sounded a lot like his father, needed you to soothe his hurts with your words.

It was only ever you who he allowed to see him like this, vulnerable and not in control.

So it wasn't unusual for him to be held down on the bed with you straddling his hips. You have that look in your eye, and Billy knows you're going to take care of him, make him feel good. Today is different, though, your hands firm but gentle, your touch a soft caress and that unnerved him more than the idea of submitting to you.

You hush him softly, fingers smoothing the confused frown away.

"I'm going to look after you, baby." You murmur, lips caressing his cheek as you speak.

"You want that, don't you? You want me to look after you? You wanna be a good boy for me?"

Billy feels like he should be ashamed at how quickly you can have him whimpering, hard, and begging for your touch, but he isn't. He can't be, not when he's hopeless for you. He lets himself go slack, lets his worries go because you'll take care of him - you always do. You're watching him, eyes soft as you take him in and the smile you produce when he nods is almost blinding.

"Close your eyes."

Billy lets his eyes slip closed, his body relaxing further into the bed at your whispered praise. His breath hitches and catches in his throat when you drag your lips across his collar bone, soft kisses are pressed against his warm skin and it has heat boiling underneath his skin.

"Gonna worship you, baby. Wanna make you feel how much I adore you, you're so good for me Billy. My good boy."

Billy's heart swells and his stomach flips, his skin feels too tight and he's not too sure if he deserves this. He wants you, needs you, so badly but he can't stop the slight tensing of his muscles - can't stop the thought that he doesn't get to have you like this. You know him too well though because you're already soothing him, hands brushing down his torso and lips caressing his skin. You hush him again.

"Baby, let me love you."

Billy can't stop the helpless whine that escapes his lips because he wants that, wants it so badly. He shudders when you press a 'good boy' against his throat before you start to make your way down his body. By the time you settle between his legs, he's so hard he's aching, almost ready to start begging you for something - anything.

You don't make him wait, your lips wrapping around his cock and sinking down on him. Billy shudders and moans at the wet heat suddenly encasing him, he can't stop the soft moans and whimpers as you work him over with your mouth - especially when you pull off him every so often to whisper softly good boy, perfect, so perfect for me.

It doesn't take you long to have him worked up and close, you pull away before he could loose himself to the bliss of his climax and he whines, thighs shaking as he pants. You give him a moment to collect himself, to let the burning fire settle back into a warm heat before you lean up and kiss him.

"Want you to come inside me, okay Baby?"

He nods, relaxing again as you settle yourself next to him. Your leg is thrown over his waist.

"Hold me," you murmur, leaning over his chest and pressing kisses onto his warm skin.

Billy's arms automatically close around you, one wrapped behind your back, his hand pressed against your spine and keeping you close to him while the other holds onto the thigh splayed over his body.

"Open your eyes."

The whispered instruction has Billy snapping his eyes open and searching for yours. He drinks you in like a man starved of thirst, like he hasn't seen you in years rather than minutes. You're leaning on your elbow, holding yourself up to lean over his chest - it would be easy for you to slide on top of him in this position, or for him to shift you onto your back and press you down into the mattress.

You reach up with your free hand and cup his cheek, thumb stroking his face gently, he keeps his eyes on yours as you shuffle impossibly closer, your hips shifting. You let go of his face and he mourns the loss for a brief moment before you're gripping his shaft and pressing yourself down. It's heaven as he slides into you, warm and made just for him. He watches as your face slackens and a shudder wracks your body. You press your forehead against his as he slides home, you whine his name.

Billy knows his hands are probably gripping you too tight but he can't make himself let go. He needs you close, as close as two people could be. His eyes burn when you start to whisper to him, rolling your hips with each praise and sighing when he gently thrusts into you - following your lead.

Your fingers cling to his chest and face and you tell him how good he is - how perfect and lovely, and strong and how much you love him - as the two of you rock into each other. His throat closes up and he can't find the stinging at the back of his eyes, he lets them fall shut and presses his face against your check. His body trembles with it, you hold him a little bit tighter and keep whispering your love to him as he falls apart.

He feels desired, loved, wanted, good.

Tears wet your skin where he's hidden himself away from your eyes and you press a hand into his hair and he sobs as you tell him to look at me, baby please look at me want to see you I love you baby come with me - he obeys, lifts his head and let's his eyes find yours again. He's already so close and when he sees the adoration, the warmth, the love, written on your face, he hurtles off the edge. Fireworks explode under his skin and he feels you shuddering against him.

The two of you cling to each other while you catch your breath, sweaty foreheads pressed against the others. Billy can still feel tears leaking from his eyes, but it doesn't matter because you're kissing them away.

"Baby, are you okay?" Your voice is soft and your hands gentle as you work to bring Billy back to himself.

He nods, unable to find his voice, but he's okay, he feels like the sun - warm and happy and loved.

#self reblog #i:my writing

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tastefulstars · 1 year ago

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Im not entirely sure if this is what you wanted but here we go :))

unedited as always but so full of love for baby boy billy.

It wasn't unusual for Billy to be pinned to the bed by you. He didn't mind, liked it even, when it was you.

It was only ever you who he allowed to see him like this, vulnerable and not in control.

You hush him softly, fingers smoothing the confused frown away.

"I'm going to look after you, baby." You murmur, lips caressing his cheek as you speak.

"You want that, don't you? You want me to look after you? You wanna be a good boy for me?"

"Close your eyes."

"Gonna worship you, baby. Wanna make you feel how much I adore you, you're so good for me Billy. My good boy."

"Baby, let me love you."

"Want you to come inside me, okay Baby?"

He nods, relaxing again as you settle yourself next to him. Your leg is thrown over his waist.

"Hold me," you murmur, leaning over his chest and pressing kisses onto his warm skin.

Billy's arms automatically close around you, one wrapped behind your back, his hand pressed against your spine and keeping you close to him while the other holds onto the thigh splayed over his body.

"Open your eyes."

He feels desired, loved, wanted, good.

"Baby, are you okay?" Your voice is soft and your hands gentle as you work to bring Billy back to himself.

He nods, unable to find his voice, but he's okay, he feels like the sun - warm and happy and loved.

#self reblog #i:my writing

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tastefulstars · 1 year ago

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Keep Me Close

You get to see a side of Billy that no one else has.

billy hargrove x f!reader

a/n: ok i know a lot of people hc billy as daddy dom but no. no that boy is prime sub material and who am i to deny every desire my pea brain comes up with? this isn’t what i planned and it took a hard left turn but i cant bring myself to care.

warnings: 18+ only. mdni. unprotected sex. piv, oral (m receiving), sub!billy, dom!reader, restraints, sensory play (kind of), praise kink, jealousy, no real proof reading.

masterlist

Keep reading

#self reblog #we're in our loving billy hours #i want to take care of him so bad

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tastefulstars · 1 year ago

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I'm reading all of my works, as treat

#tbd #mayhaps i will perchance get back into the writing mood

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tastefulstars · 1 year ago

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Im not entirely sure if this is what you wanted but here we go :))

unedited as always but so full of love for baby boy billy.

It wasn't unusual for Billy to be pinned to the bed by you. He didn't mind, liked it even, when it was you.

It was only ever you who he allowed to see him like this, vulnerable and not in control.

You hush him softly, fingers smoothing the confused frown away.

"I'm going to look after you, baby." You murmur, lips caressing his cheek as you speak.

"You want that, don't you? You want me to look after you? You wanna be a good boy for me?"

"Close your eyes."

"Gonna worship you, baby. Wanna make you feel how much I adore you, you're so good for me Billy. My good boy."

"Baby, let me love you."

"Want you to come inside me, okay Baby?"

He nods, relaxing again as you settle yourself next to him. Your leg is thrown over his waist.

"Hold me," you murmur, leaning over his chest and pressing kisses onto his warm skin.

Billy's arms automatically close around you, one wrapped behind your back, his hand pressed against your spine and keeping you close to him while the other holds onto the thigh splayed over his body.

"Open your eyes."

He feels desired, loved, wanted, good.

"Baby, are you okay?" Your voice is soft and your hands gentle as you work to bring Billy back to himself.

He nods, unable to find his voice, but he's okay, he feels like the sun - warm and happy and loved.

#billy stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #star answers #i:my writing #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove smut #whats this?? a story??? incredible

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