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kaciebello · 2 months

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Delivery Express ✿

Summary: The reader sees an opportunity to run an untapped market in Hogwarts. Feeling like not doing enough, some books about vampires will help.

Warnings: Making the reader feel bad, no use of y/n

Authors note: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. Still mad that they took my yellow text coloring ⋋_⋌. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

Previously: Too many voicemails

word count: 1.2k

Notes to deliver: 1057

The dining hall was as busy as always. Piles of food on each table and chatter all over the place. Even the professors talked among themselves. It was hard to hear people next to you, but you for sure could hear the conversations of other people on the other side of the table. Everyone kept to their house, talking to their housemates. And that is why nobody even batted an eye at a girl in a green uniform wearing a suspiciously yellow bow in her hair, sitting next to the Slytherin royalty. The boys did not pay her much attention, talking among themself, in their minds, planning school and world domination as if it was a game of chest. Granted none of them were good at chess but they can still try and play it. In reality, they were planning how to beat Ravenclaw at Quidditch later that week. What weirded them out was the lack of envelopes she liked to have with her. Something about everyone being in the hall made them easy to track.

She received pointed looks from the boys, not noticing them, however. Draco jabbed Blaise in his ribs, trying to get him to say something. None of them dared to say anything. None of them wanted to look like despraed second years waiting for a note from their crush that had never written back. Well, that was until Lorenzo mustered up the courage.

“Where are your love notes at?” He says reaching for the plate full of chicken and bringing it closer to her. Knowing the girl would crawl over the whole table for them if he didn't.

She shrugs and reaches for the chicken strip, the plate now sitting in the middle of the group. Taking a bite before speaking.

“I sold it.” Confusion on their face as she continued to eat and pile more food on her plate.

“ Wha do you mean you sold it?” Asked Blaise. Fork pointing at her.

“Exactly what I said. I no longer run the delivery business.”

“Who did you sell it to?”

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she put down her food.

“Okay listen. I had a dream right? na in that dream an owl came to me and said if I sold it to her, she was gonna get me a limited edition of that muggle book I've been wanting. So I agreed and sold it to her.”

“You sold it in a dream?” she nods at his question. “ I don't think that's how business works.” He's sure to give her a bit of a side eyes. Maybe it is one of the muggle ways of conducting business he's not aware of. Theodor started to laugh and soon enough others joined him.

Others at the table give them looks but they have been unbothered by it. The girl started to pout, not knowing what was so funny. the boys crack more jokes about owls and cryptic dreams, she however did not pay attention to those. Not even understanding the joke about the owl possibly being Mattheo's dads. She felt a bit sad that her friends made fun of her in the dining hall. Mattheo notices this and stops.

“Wait, you were serious?” He yelps, stopping the other boys from laughing. She just nods hint of tears in her eyes.

“I don't get what's so funny.” Her voice was unstable as she said this and rather than engaging in conversations with them, she piles more food on the plate and eats without looking at them. The boys feel bad for making her feel like that, but you can't blame them. It is not every day somebody tells them they sold business to an owl.

Lorenzo feeling the worst of all of them decides to speak up.

“What is the book about?” Just like that. It was like a switch flipped inside her. She turned to them with a wide smile and sparkles in her eyes. Some would even think she was faking it before to make them feel bad. None would dare to say it aloud.

“I'm not sure, it has something to do with vampires and werewolves.” She says, gesturing with her hands, what only the boys could interpret as a werewolf.

“We have werewolfs too.” Says Mattheo, knowing damn well he did not pay attention when they covered them. He could be only half sure. Even less when the girl shook her head.

“These are sexy werewolfs.” She made sure to emphasize the word sexy. Frustrated at not having any proof for her words. Theodor just rolled his eyes at her comment.

“ I can howl if you're interested.” He says gesturing to his body. A disgusted look from Blaise and a sigh from her discouraged him from actually howling.

“What else is it about.” Says Draco, although it was hard to understand him, as he was showing his fifth scone in his mouth.

“Something about the thing that shall not be named.” She says and Mattheo's ears perk up.

“My dad?”

“No, not that one.” Mattheo just made a disappointed sound at her answer.

They have seemingly moved from the conversations. Not bothered by the fact that their friend quit her business and sold it to an owl in her dream. It wasn't so strange after all in a school of magic and wizardry. Well, no, it was strange, but not as much as people would expect.

Lorenzo however stopped his chatter when a little note fell in front of him, catching it before it could touch his food. None of his friends seemed to notice this. All caught up in their conversation, trying to see how many scones can Draco actually stuff in his mouth. So he turned to a girl, leaned closer to her, and whispered.

“I thought you stopped.” A sly smirk appears on his face. The girl looks at him confused before turning red all over her face and ears. Her eyes fell on the note that sat between his fingers. Avoiding his eyes, he put his arm around her shoulders to make her look at him. She took a breath to answer him but she only managed to stutter a few words before a yell from Mattheo interrupted her. Both Lorenzo and her look at the other boy, also holding a note in his hand. They exchanged confused looks before other one fell in front of Blaise.

More and more notes started to fall around them. Along with other mail as the wols flew circles around the hall. Everyone looked up amazed, the amount of love notes made it look like it was snowing. Few love confession howlers could be heard at the other tables. Professor McGonagall was holding a love note on her own, blushing and hiding her face behind her hands.

That's when they heard a thud on the table. A box set of limited editions of books landed right in front of their friend. The girl squealed in excitement, completely abandoning her food to immediately pull one out to investigate it. They all looked at her in shock not believing their eyes. Lorenzo's note was completely forgotten. Coos from an owl sounded above their heads. The girl snickered at their shocked faces.

“I guess I did sell the business after all.”

Notes to deliver: 0

Final author note: We have come to the end of the series! Hope you liked it! Don't hesitate to send me questions if you have any. Anyone on the tag list will be automatically added to the sequel tag list, if you're against it please let me know and I will remove you! I hope you're doing well and I'll see you next time. ♡(ŐωŐ人)

Tag list:

@daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone , @enfppixie , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @iwishigotswallowed , @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers

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flemingsfreckles · 12 days

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Better Boyfriend than Him (18+) pt. 6

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read the previous parts here

Warnings: SMUT (18+), fingering (r giving), oral (r giving), tit sucking, cursing, non-sexual nudity

WC: 5.6k

A/N: this is the end folks :) thank you to all of you who interacted with any part of this series or sent me suggestions I really appreciate it 🫶

It had been 5 weeks since you and Jessie officially became girlfriends and 5 weeks from the day Jessie had asked to join you in the shower.

“Can I join you?” You looked back and Jessie was still sitting on the bed that the two of you had just messed up. Despite fucking you Jessie was still completely clothed as well. Her eyes met yours for a moment before she looked down to the floor.

“Only if that’s what you want. You don’t have to just because I asked when I’d be able to touch you.” You didn’t want her putting herself in vulnerable positions just trying to please you.

“I want to.” She pulled the blanket off from her waist and moved out of the bed toward you.

You started the water and got out a second towel for Jessie. You could feel your heart racing. A new feeling of nerves and excitement racing through your body.

“I can get in first, if you want to just come in when you’re ready, or I can wait. Up to you.” Maybe she was comfortable with the idea of showering but not the idea of stripping off her clothes in front of you yet. You looked at her and she leaned against the counter, hands crossed against her chest.

“Yeah go ahead, I might be a minute.” You could tell by her voice she was uncertain in what was happening. You stick your hand into the shower, turning the heat up a little more before walking across the cold bathroom tile to place a kiss to Jessie’s lips.

You grab her hands as you pull away, holding them firmly in your own. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Looking into her eyes as you talk to her. “I want you to be comfortable, whatever that means to you is okay with me Jessie.”

She just nods and when you squeeze her hands she returns the gesture. You let go and walk back, opening the shower door and stepping in. The shower door was glass but fogged. You could make out the shape of Jessie against the counter through it but not actually see what she was doing.

You moved under the water letting it run down your face, your hands coming up to wipe your eyes before you get your hair under the water. You shampoo your hair, rinse it and put in conditioner. You grab the body soap and give a glance back through the fogged door. Jessie hadn’t moved.

“You okay out there?” Having to slightly yell over the sound of the loud shower head.

You hear her clear her throat. “Yeah I’m good.” Her voice sounds shaky. Deciding not to press, you try and change the subject.

“What do you want for lunch? I’m not sure what I have in the fridge so we might need to run to the store to make a real meal but I’m thinking maybe burgers or we could do chicken, we could do pasta,” you start throwing out any meal ideas to her. “Maybe we could just have salads that one with the shrimp you like,”

“Please stop.” Her voice comes from over the shower. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“I’m just trying to figure out what we’re going to eat.” Acting innocent, you try to sound normal.

“No you’re trying to distract me. I appreciate it but if you always just distract me, I’ll never get any further than where I am.”

“Sorry.” You really had meant well, trying to get her mind off the stress and anxiety you could feel she was having. You finished rinsing your body and started to rinse out the conditioner. You turn for a minute, facing away from the door. That’s when you hear it open, and you can sense Jessie now standing behind you in the shower.

“Hi.” Her voice is still shaky, quieter now that she doesn’t have to yell through the shower door.

“Hi babe.” You stay facing away from her, you weren’t sure if she wanted you to turn around or if just she wanted to be in your presence without your gaze for the first time. It’s quiet for a minute, you don’t move, having already rinsed your conditioner out you’re just standing under the water, facing the wall.

“Um, I’m done in the shower, do you want me to leave so you can shower? I can stay or go, whatever you want.”

“Stay. Please.”

“Can I turn around?” You had to turn around at some point, even if it was to just leave the shower. You hear her take a deep breath behind you.

“Yeah, you can.”

You move slowly, giving her enough time to stop you or change her mind or even run out of the shower. But she doesn’t and when you turn you’re met face to face with your red cheeked girlfriend. You don’t dare let your eyes drop, you’re practically staring at her eyebrows instead of her eyes, not wanting to look at her and make her uncomfortable. You can tell she’s got her arms across her chest, holding her breasts tight against herself.

“Hi Jess.” She doesn’t respond just giving you a weak smile.

“Stop staring at my forehead, it's weird.”

“Sorry.” You make an effort to look down at her eyes.

“Here let me move.” You start to shuffle to one side of the shower. “You can get in the water.” She passes by you, her skin gently grazing against you and it leaves you with goosebumps.

Your turn facing her again, she’s facing you. Her eyes move all over, yours stay glued to her face.

“Want me to wash your hair?” You offer, it was something simple but you thought it might help given that she had yet to take her arms away from her chest, making it hard for her to wash her own hair.

“Yeah that would be nice.” She finishes getting her hair soaking wet. She then turns her back to you. You each a hand over her shoulder putting out your palm.

“Shampoo please.” Jessie removed one hand from her chest, grabbing the bottle and squeezing a dollop into your hand. “Thank you. I’m gonna touch your hair.” You don’t know if she wanted the warning but you figured it was the polite thing to do.

“Okay.”

You lather some of the shampoo in your hands, the smell of it filling the shower. You place your hands gently on her head. Starting with gently working your hands through her hair. She tilts her head back letting you reach the front of her scalp. As you work your hands down toward the base of her neck you feel Jessie’s neck and head relax, putting its weight into your hands. She lets out a soft groan as you work your nails harder into the base of her scalp.

“Good?” You say to her.

“Yeah, this is really nice.” You keep scratching at her skull, mixing between soft and harsh movements. You’re looking at the back of her head, barely touching her but you can’t help but think this is the most intimate experience of your life. Here you were, both naked, but with no sexual intentions in mind, you were providing her a simple task and yet it made you feel so close to her.

“Conditioner?” You remove a hand from where it was tangled within her hair and you place it again over her shoulder palm out. Jessie repeats her actions grabbing the bottle and squeezing the conditioner into your hand. You spread it and run your fingers through her hair.

You remove your hands from her, placing them back at your side. Unsure of what to do while she let the conditioner sit. You both just stood, only the sound of the running water filling the bathroom.

“Do you mind stepping out so I can wash my body? I’m sorry, I’m just not,”

“Of course babe. Don’t apologize.” You don’t even let her finish apologizing. You open the shower door, stepping out onto the bath rug. “A clean towel for you is on the hook.”

“Thank you.” You can see her silhouette moving around in the shower. You give her one last look before you move into the bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind you not wanting to be waiting in the bathroom when she gets out. You stood in your bedroom, pulling out two pairs of sweatpants, two sleep shirts, and two hoodies. The water stops running in the bathroom. Jessie opens the door, peering around it.

“Hi!” You were in love, nope not in love you hadn’t even been dating a whole 24 hours, you were smitten, with the way she always gave you a sweet “hi” when she was shy.

“I got you clothes.” You point at the obvious pile of clothing you had gotten out.

“Thank you for giving me privacy earlier.”

“Thank you for asking for it. I’m proud of you for taking that step today, I’m sure it was scary. I’m really proud of you Jessie.” You kiss her temple.

You drop your towel, grabbing from the clothes laid out on the bed. You slip on panties followed by sweatpants and a shirt. You then turn around, facing away from Jessie giving her the privacy to get dressed. You hear her move behind you, when she’s dressed you feel her arms wrap tightly around your waist.

“Thank you.”

You had progressively seen more and more of Jessie’s body over the 5 weeks. First it was in the shower, she then started joining you more and more frequently especially after the two of you would have sex. She progressively started to remove her hands from her body, you kept your eyes up, but you could tell she was getting more comfortable. She would wash her body in front of you, though you still kept your eyes nearly to the ceiling . You no longer left to let her finish in private, she didn’t ask you to leave.

Next she had started changing in the room with you, not giving you warning. The first time she did it you nearly panicked, but then realized making it a deal would be worse so you acted as if nothing happened as she changed into her pajamas.

When you had sex she still kept on her bra and underwear but she let your hands roam over her more and more. Quick touches to her waist, then to her thighs, eventually she allowed you to have your hands on her ass squeezing and grabbing while you made out. You could tell she was trying and that was all you needed. With every milestone you felt so proud of her.

And then she flashed you, and you nearly fell over. This was 3 days ago and you couldn’t get the image out of your head. Jessie had called you into her bedroom from where you were sitting in the living room. When you entered the room you saw the look on her face, a smirk as she stared at you across the room. It was a look that told you she was up to something.

“What did you do?” You questioned Jessie

“Nothing but I have to show you something.”

“Okay?”

She just smiled at you before shouting “Look!”, and she grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it up, exposing her chest to you.

Your eyes fell to her chest and your jaw dropped, before you could register that you were staring at her boobs, her shirt was back down, covering them up.

“I’m going to make popcorn.” She says as she walks past you back to the kitchen. You were absolutely shocked at what had just happened. An overwhelming feeling came over you, a mixture of happiness, pride, and being incredibly turned on all washed over you. You weren’t super proud of being turned on, knowing you should be more happy about her milestone but it was your girlfriend's boobs that you had just seen fully for the first time. You take a deep breath before following her to where she was standing in the kitchen.

“What just happened in there?”

She just shrugs as she looks at the microwave. “Just felt like it.”

You walk up behind her giving her a tight hug around her waist and placing your chin on her shoulder. You place quick kisses to her neck. “I’m proud of you, as always.”

“Did you like them?” She turns a big smile on her face as she asks.

“They were,” your mind goes blank as you think about the image of your grinning girlfriend holding up her shirt, “so good, really Jess, like those,” you tilt your head in the direction of her chest. “Those are perfect.”

“Thanks, grew them myself.”

“What the fuck babe.” You laugh at her comment.

Now it was 3 days later, the two of you were sitting on Jessie’s couch, sharing a bag of chips as you worked on chemistry homework.

“Can I tell you something?” Jessie said tapping her pen rapidly against the table, feeling anxious.

“Always.” You stop the problem you’re working on to give her your attention.

“I think I’m ready.” She waits looking at you.

“For?” When she leaves you hanging you have to nag.

She lifts an eyebrow suggestively at you, when you don’t get the hint she fills in the blank. “Sex.”

“Oh!” You realize what she’s implying. “Okay, are you sure?”

She nods. “Maybe tonight?” She has a small red flush to her cheeks.

You lean over to give her a kiss “Whenever you’re ready.”

It was later that night, you had gone home for a few hours and returned to Jessie’s for the evening. Upon walking through the door the Canadian had her lips on yours hard, indicating she was still up for what she had suggested earlier that day.

You kiss Jessie’s soft, plump lips for a minute before you pull back from her, pushing her off with your hands on her chest.

“If you want to stop just say something, stop, wait, no, anything I’ll stop what I’m doing. If you don’t want to say something but need me to stop just tap me three times in a row.” You grab her arm to show her what you mean, tapping her gently. It wasn’t something the two of you had used before but you had done some research on how to make this experience comfortable and read that verbal no’s can be sometimes difficult and it’s good to have another option. The article had recommended the three taps and you figured you could offer it.

“Okay.”

“Promise you’ll stop me if I make you uncomfortable or you change your mind or if you just don’t want to?” You hold out your pinky to her, she links hers with yours.

“I promise.” With that you grabbed her hand, pulling her gently down the hallway toward her bedroom.

You kissed her, holding her tightly to you as you stood in her bedroom.

“Can I take your shirt off?”

“Yeah babe.” You had taken her shirt off numerous times, but you always asked anyway. Your hands found the hem of her shirt and Jessie lifted her arms above her head. You slowly lifted her shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

“Are you okay if I move us to the bed?”

“Yes.”

You bend down, picking her up and moving to the bed. You set her down so she is sitting on the side of it and you’re standing between her thighs on the ground. Still taking it slow you just make out for a couple of minutes. You let your tongue softly meet hers. Your hands are on her waist, gripping her tightly, your fingernails probably leaving small indents in her skin. Her hands are on your face, one on each cheek, pulling you into her.

You kiss her until she pulls back. “As much as I enjoy making out with you, can we pick up the pace here?”

You nod rapidly at her and release your hands from her waist. She moves herself up the bed, resting her head back on the pillows. You follow her, crawling to place yourself above her, your legs between hers. She wraps her thighs around your waist. Leaning in, you start kissing her again, Jessie’s fingers start to play with your waistband under your shirt, she knew you loved the soft traces of your waist she would tease you with.

“Shirt off?” She pulls back from your lips and asks.

“Please.” Helping her, you both take your shirt off. When you move back her hands come to your covered chest, squeezing your tits through your bra. You move your head toward the crevice of her neck, kissing down the side. When your lips meet her collarbone she lets out a breathy moan.

“That feels good.” Her hand comes up to grab the back of your head, keeping you in the spot she liked. You listened, kissing, licking, and gently sucking at that spot before giving the same treatment to the other side of her neck. You move down further, kissing what skin of Jessie’s tits was above her bra. Your hands come up, finding the elastic at the bottom of her bra.

“You can take it off.” She tells you before you even have the chance to ask. As Jessie sits up you gently place the tips of your fingers under the band, giving Jessie another look, she nods and you pull her bra over her head and arms. Before you look at or even touch her chest you smile at her and place a kiss on her cheeks.

“Can I touch them?”

“Yes baby, use your mouth too.” You’re a little shocked by her forwardness. You follow her instructions. Sitting back you take in the sight, your beautiful girlfriend laying under you, shirtless for the very first time. Your eyes move from one breast to the other, taking in her skin. Moving you gently cup your hands around her chest, giving both a soft squeeze before leaning down to connect your lips to her collarbone again.

You leave a path of kisses all the way down until you lips find her nipple. You pause before putting your lips on it and glance up to see her watching you intensely.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. You can put your lips there.” She looks down to the nipple you had avoided kissing. You once again happily follow Jessie’s request, placing your lips around her nipple. You let your tongue swirl around it, softly sucking it into your mouth. Another moan falls from Jessie’s lips. “Fuck babe, that’s good.”

You continue giving her right nipple the same attention until you hear Jessie again.

“Babe?” You release her chest from your lips with a pop.

“What? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it was getting a little sensitive. Can you move to the other one?”

“Of course, thank you for telling me.” You smile and drop your head back to focus on her left breast. Giving it the same treatment only this time for less time. Jessie is gripping the back of your head, pushing you into her chest harder. Your hands start to wander down, finding the waistband of her pants, letting your fingers just barely dip under them.

You let your lips move off her nipple.

“Pants?”

“Off please.” She answers. Your hands come to the tie on her pants and undo them.

“Are you still okay? We can stop anytime you want.”

“I know babe, I’m good, really good. I promise. I’ll tell you.” Your hands dip into Jessie’s waistband and pull her sweats down and off her legs, you crawl back up letting Jessie’s legs wrap around you once again. One of your hands finds her thigh, gently scratching up and down, the other holding your body above hers.

Kissing her again, still soft but with more intention than you had before. It was setting in that you were finally having this moment with Jessie. Making out with her gave you a second to clear your mind, you relaxed a bit, feeling that you were previously on edge, so caught up in making this a bad experience for Jessie. But the more you two moved together, those nerves faded.

Jessie’s hips gently thrusting upward has you pulling away from her lips. You raise your eyebrows at her, glancing at where her hips had been moving and then back up to her face.

“Can you touch me please?” It’s really a simple request but it had so much meaning behind it.

“Yes baby. Do you want your boxers off or?”

“Yeah, take them off.” Leaning in for one sweet kiss, your lips find hers. You move down, kneeling between Jessie’s legs, your hands resting on her waist where the top of her boxers were.

“Good?” You feel the need to give her another check in.

“Good.”

You slowly move her boxers down her legs, she tuck her legs slightly to bring her feet together so you could slip them all the way up. She doesn’t spread her legs back on the sides of you once you have her underwear off. You don’t throw the boxers, just placing them on the bed so that if she wanted them back she could have them almost immediately.

You could tell she was nervous now. Her bottom lip being chewed on by her teeth, her hands picking as her skin, her eyes not meeting yours like they had up until now.

“Tell me what you need.”

“Just a minute, I think.” She says quietly.

You watch her continue to stare at the wall behind you. You keep your eyes watching her face. She takes a few deep breaths, then straightens out her legs, one coming on to either side of where you sat. The hormones in you tell you to look, but the girlfriend in you instead leans over to her, placing yet another reassuring kiss to her lips.

“What do you want me to do?” You didn’t want to make the call on using your hands or your mouth without asking.

“Uh.” You watch as Jessie just looks at you, “your fingers, maybe, just on my clit.” She blushes a bit when she says it, her eyes darting away for a second.

You nod and start to move your hand down until you feel her slit. You gently push her legs open, glancing down to see what you were doing. Finally seeing your girlfriend fully naked in front of you. It takes your breath away for a second, maybe it was silly to other people the thought of seeing someone naked being such a big deal but seeing Jessie in such a private way caused a wave of affection and lust to flow through your body.

Once you’ve taken in her body, you look back up to Jessie’s face. Her expression is hard to read.

“Okay still?”

“Yeah, it’s just, weird, in a good way but still weird, I feel like I’ve never done this, even though I have.”

“Okay babe, just talk to me, whatever you need.” She nods and you let your fingers slide between her folds. Her legs tense for a second before relaxing as you place your other hand out to hold hers, your fingers interlocking.

It only sets in when you feel the pool of wetness under your fingertips, that you’ve never done this before. Now your nerves were back, only for a completely different reason. You didn’t know what you were doing. You weren’t going to be any good, she wouldn’t like it.

“Hey,” Jessie snaps you out of your spiral. She had felt your hand stop moving and looked up to see you staring off into space.

You pull your hand back away from her instinctively thinking she wanted you to stop. “I’m sorry did I hurt you?”

“No, but I can tell that now you’re freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out.” You hold up your hands, not liking her accusation. “I’ve just, never done this to someone.” You mutter the second part under your breath as if Jessie wasn’t already aware that you had never fucked a girl.

“I know.” She says, it’s a simple reply, it puts some of your anxiety at ease. The rest of your nerves leave when she keeps talking to you. “Remember when we started dating, and I was worried because I haven’t dated in so long? I was scared of being a bad girlfriend. And you said you didn’t expect me to be perfect and that it’s all really trial and error? Think of it like that.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t expect you to be perfect, honestly, and don’t take this the wrong way, this has been perfect so far, but I still have nerves, so I’m not sure you’ll even be able to get me to finish. It might take a few tries and that’s okay. I’m not expecting earth shattering orgasms. I was expecting you to be caring, and gentle, and sweet and you have exceeded my expectations already in regard to that, if I cum great, if not, this has still been great babe.”

As you look at her, those words coming from her mouth you can’t help but think of those three words. They sat in the back of your mind for the past few days, you felt it, you wanted to tell her, it was bubbling out of your chest.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Always.”

“I love you.” There’s a long pause before you continue. “You don’t have to say it back.” And she doesn’t. Jessie doesn’t say anything, she just lays, motionless starting back at you.

“Oh my god I just fucked this up didn’t I?” You want to backpedal, go back to when she was comfortable. Your chest feels tight as you put your hands over your face.

“Um,” she starts, you look notice her eyes looking glossy.

“I’m so sorry Jessie, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. I can leave if-”

“NO!” Her hand comes to grab at your shoulders.

“Oh” her touch on your shoulders relaxes you slightly.

“I” she lets out a huge sigh, “I love you.” You feel your heart racing. You can barely hear her continue to talk over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. “I actually said it to you the other day, when we fell asleep on the couch together. You were sleeping obviously but, that’s when I realized it, I had felt it before but I couldn’t place it. Seeing you peacefully sleeping, I felt like my heart was going to fall out of my chest, I was so overwhelmed with you, everything about you. I love you.”

You now have tears in your own eyes, feeling so overwhelmed with emotions. You kiss Jessie hard, pouring your feelings for her into the kiss as best you can and she does the same.

When you pull away she smirks at you. “So are we going to finish this, or did we just kill the mood?”

“Definitely didn’t kill the mood, plus now I think this is considered ‘making love’” you hold up air quotes around the words.

“Ew! No.” She gives you a gentle shove on the shoulder. “Please don’t ever call it that, you make us sound like old people.” She laughs but you can also tell she’s serious about not calling it that.

“Fine, now where were we?” You put your lips back on her and let your hand fall back between her legs. You find the same wetness that had started your anxiety before. This time to take a deep breath and remind yourself it’s just Jessie, it’ll be okay.

You use your fingers to drag some of her wetness up to her clit, making your fingers slide better. Drawing circles around it for a bit, you feel Jessie flexing and moving her hips slightly to meet your fingers.

“Can you press a little harder?” Jessie’s voice comes out a little raspy, how it sometimes would sound after she fucked you, it was hot.

You listen, pressing your fingers more firm against her body. “Just like that.” A tingle runs down your spine at her praise. You continue circling her clit, occasionally dipping back near her entrance to collect more of her arousal. One of the times when your fingers drift down Jessie speaks up.

“You can put them inside, if you’re comfortable, and then your other hand or maybe your tongue, on my clit.” You smile at the was she looks away saying the last word, she was so mouthy in bed when she was fucking you and yet so bashful right now.

Eager to taste her finally you move to your stomach keeping your fingers against her. Having your face this close to her you can smell her arousal, it’s similar and yet completely different than your own, having tasted and smelled yourself off Jessie’s lips and fingers on numerous occasions. You adjust your position again so that your mouth is just above where she wants you, your middle finger sitting at her opening.

Unsure of what to start first you’re frozen for a minute.

“Are you okay?” It’s now Jessie asking you instead of you asking her.

“Yeah, I’m just new to this.”

“Put your fingers in first.” You loved how she could tell what the dilemma was you were having without having to tell her or explain.

You do as she says and slowly slide your middle finger into her, the sensation is warm, smooth, and definitely wet. You let a moan fall from your lips when your finger is fully inside, finally feeling her around you. You pump it in and out slowly a few times before picking up the pace.

“Add another.” Jessie requests and you uncurl your ring finger, putting it next to your middle and slowing down your thrusts when you push both fingers in.

“Oh fuck.” You hear Jessie whisper. You look up and her mouth is open, eyes locked on where your hand was entering her. Keeping eye contact with her, you drop your tongue out and let it find her clit. With a single swipe you earn a loud moan from Jessie. “Keep doing that.”

You’d be lying if you said your ego wasn’t being inflated by this moment, your girlfriend moaning under you, because of your fingers and your mouth, you can see why Jessie loves being the one giving.

You find a workable rhythm between your fingers and tongue movement. Jessie is still moving her hips, her hands now both on your head, also applying pressure to move you where she needed you. It was helpful to have her guiding, and also hot the way she tugged harder on your hair when she would moan.

“That’s so good babe, keep doing that, I’m going to cum.” Her words made your eyes that you didn’t even realize you had closed snap open, finding her face. You wanted to watch as she fell apart from your touch. A couple seconds later, you get to see exactly that. Jessie’s fingers twist themselves hard in your hair, nearly painful, her mouth falls open, moans and a whine of your name comes out. Her legs close around your head and her pussy clenched tightly on your fingers making it hard for you to keep them thrusting.

“Okay, babe, fuck.” She shoves your forehead, taking the hint she was sensitive you pull back, carefully removing your fingers from inside of her.

You move up toward her head, leaving kissing sporadically across her body, one to each thigh, one above her hip, one next to her belly button, one under her rigt breast, one between her chest, two to her shoulders, one on her neck and then a kiss to each cheek before her nose and forehead and finally placing your lips on hers.

“Hi.” You say as you hold your face above hers, she looks sleepy, dazed, but happy.

“Hi.”

“Are you okay?” It’s maybe the 15th time you’ve asked her tonight, but you want to check.

“Yeah, are you?”

“Yes, I love you.” You say before leaning down to kiss her again.

When you pull back she says “I love you.”

“Can I lay?” Jessie nods her arms wrapping around your back to hold you tightly to her.

You both lay in silence, catching your breath, your head rests on her chest and you can hear her heart still racing.

“Thank you.” The quiet voice comes from above your head, you tilt against her chest to see Jessie looking at you.

“I’m proud of you.”

She just hums back at you. As you lay you hear her heartbeat slow, returning to its resting rate. You can tell she’s falling asleep, her leg twitching a few times before it stops and her breathing becomes slow and relaxed.

You close your own eyes, falling asleep to the sound of Jessie’s heartbeat, feeling safe in her arms, safe with her. You loved her, she loved you, everything was perfect.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso smut #canwnt x reader

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sacharinee · 11 months

Note

thinking ab peter having a bad tiring day and reader giving him face massages and body massages after they take a bath ‼️

pairing: bf!peter parker x reader

w/c: 780

a/n: hi anon!! i loved writing for this request sm so thank u for sending it <3 i did, however, completely forget to write abt the part about them taking the bath together. im so sorry 😭 but i hope u still enjoy :(( about one spider-man kiss and a ton of domestic!peter

peter knows exactly what he needs right now after a long day.

there’s only one thing in the world that could make up for having a shitty day and that’s you.

but unfortunately for peter, when he patters into your shared apartment, you’re nowhere to be found.

“babe?” he calls out.

he strips himself of his shoes and walks down the short hall to your bedroom, only to find the closet open and your work clothes missing. peter skrinks at your absence and pouts, “great.”

he ponders about taking a nap, but it’s a quarter to nine and he’d rather be awake when you arrive home.

when his stomach growls, he realizes he’s gone almost an entire day without a proper meal, save for the granola bar you shoved in his hand before he kissed you goodbye.

as he enters the kitchen, he finds a note left on the counter, scribbled in your handwriting,

“emergency shift at the hospital, back by 9 tonite. food in the fridge, love you!”

peter frowns at your note, sticks it onto the fridge, and pulls out the meal you prepared for him.

he heats up the food and chews the stale chicken slowly. he really misses you. even with your bland food and lack of seasoning, he still enjoys anything from you. you try your best for him.

when he’s finished cleaning his dishes, peter debates on showering. he wants to wait for you, to take a nice hot shower with you, and clean each other’s stress away. but he’s really stinky from work, and he’d rather just go to bed with you. so he undresses and takes a long shower alone.

—

peter’s prayers are answered when he reenters the shared bedroom dressed in pajamas.

“hi baby,” you chirp. you take off your glasses and set the book you were reading aside.

peter’s heart swells at the sight. you’re laying on your side of the bed, hair in a bun, away from your face. you’re dressed in your boyfriend’s plaid boxers and a geeky t-shirt you stole from his dresser.

the tv is playing some rerun of your favorite tv show as he crawls himself across the bed and plops himself in between your open legs.

peter nests his heavy head upon your pelvis and lets out a deep sigh. your palms run down his clad back, kneading the tense muscles.

“did you eat yet?” he tries to nod his head, “yea, chicken was good, super tasty, thanks, y/n/n” he replies.

he may or not be telling you the whole truth. you’re cooking wasn’t amazing, but he would never tell you that.

peter flips himself over, staring at you adoringly upside down. your soft hands trace his buff arms, comfort spreading throughout his skin from your touch, “what happened today, petey?”

he exhales, furrowing his brows, and squeezes his eyes shut. he juts his bottom lip out while you weave your fingers and pull through his damps locks.

“everything went wrong today. everything,” he takes a deep breath, “i was late for biochem, had a pop quiz for psych. not that it was hard but still. i forgot i had tutoring today too, so i'm out fifteen bucks. and we were understaffed for work, so that was a bust. so many mean customers in queens,” he takes a look at you, “we should move somewhere else.”

you snicker at his comment and slide your fingers over his funky left eyebrow, smoothing out the knit and massaging his temples, “yea, like where?”

you love all versions of peter, but you think this is your favorite. relaxed at your touch, devoting himself wholeheartedly to you. he’s embraced and fully engulfed by you, like putty in your hands.

“like,” your boyfriend seems distracted, voice deep, staring at you with nothing but affection, “sunnyside? maybe?” peter licks his lips and clears his throat, “just somewhere safer, nicer. for you.”

you’re beaming down at his face; your warm hands cup his cheeks while you land a long and overdue tender kiss upside down. you feel peter smile into the kiss, exhaling through his nose in contentment.

you keep your hands on his face and gently caress the soft skin as you pull away.

“that sounds nice,” your heart squeezes at the thought as he continues, “we could settle down there, have a family, you know? white picket fence and all. ‘m picturing you in your hot scrubs, bringin’ home the bacon. and i’ll be at home, taking care of the kids.”

you’re giggling at the scene as you chime in, “and we could have family dinners every saturday night, or- ooh! i could take yoga classes sunday mornings and-”

peter snickers at you, “what you need are some cooking classes.”

gasping, you flick his forehead, “you said you loved my cooking!”

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lu-sn · 1 month

Text

pete is an early riser. this irks vegas to no end, especially since he's needed twice the amount of sleep after getting shot and he's not very keen on doing that in a cold, desolate, pete-less bed. but pete is a creature of habit, accustomed to training at the crack of dawn from a young age, and he refuses to budge. "i need to stay in shape," he'll say apologetically as he tugs his wrist away from a clingy, cranky vegas. "i'm not about to let you get shot again."

vegas has many problems with this statement, starting with "i got myself shot, idiot," and ending with "you're not my bodyguard, so stop fucking acting like it," but somewhere in between he always ends up twisting the knife too deep, and pete will smile that strained, empty smile that vegas never wants to see again. so vegas has learned, with great difficulty, to let this fight lie.

besides, vegas has discovered a silver lining in all of this: post-workout pete is hungry.

he's sweaty and disheveled, too, if vegas can manage to lure pete to the kitchen before he wanders off to shower, and vegas has always liked him like that. so when vegas has the energy, he'll make tom luad muu from scratch with all of the trappings, slicing up pork blood and intestine and liver in the early light of dawn, leaving them to simmer and burble pleasantly on the stove. he'll pull out strips of chicken he left to marinate overnight (he loves feeding pete meat, he loves it), grill them over open flame, and the enticing scent of it will fill up the kitchen and the hallways beyond. it works like a charm; pete will stumble in nose-first, and the look of awe of his face will settle like contentment into vegas's bones.

and then vegas gets to watch pete steadily work his way through a ridiculous amount of food, humming with satisfaction and moaning in pleasure as he slurps up soup and tears through chunks of meat, licking traces of grease off the corners of his mouth, and something warm and heady will curl in the pit of vegas's stomach -- and he'll get hard. sometimes he'll do something about it, leaning over to taste the salty sweat on pete's neck and the lingering spice on pete's mouth; but most times he finds himself doing nothing but sitting in the intensity of his own love for pete, basking in the warmth of pete's delight, and thinking to himself, this must be what happiness feels like.

inspired partially by a convo with @fleet-off about vegas's passive horniness and partially by this bingqiu fic about making obscene sounds while eating. hehe

#on days when vegas doesn't have the energy he'll at least manage to whip up an omelet for pete #it will feel eerily like failure #but pete never seem to mind #kinnporsche #vegaspete #vegas theerapanyakul #pete saengtham #mine: notfic

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eggedbellies · 10 months

Note

Think of this - you're the only fertile member of your tribe left after the tribe elders sacrificed your friend to the island deity. While you've spent a good few years hooking up with the strong hunters and keen trackers of your tribe (which were either hung like horses or fucked like rabbits) to ensure the success of your community, the deity demands another sacrifice. Being the only fertile member left, you really have no choice.

You're covered in protective sigils, stripped naked, lathered in honey, given a basket of meat and fruits before being sent into the depths of the forest. All the sounds of the native wildlife are far away - no one dares to encroach on the stomping grounds of your god. You reach the clearing, climb the rocky platforms and wait. From the treeline, you see the crown horns of your cod as they come striding out of the forest. It looks similar to a human, which eased you - save for the crown of horns, the heavy reptilian tail, digitigrade legs and the extra pair of arms.

You push the offering basket towards them and instinctively throw yourself to the ground, grovelling at its feet. It approaches you, devours the offering and then starts licking up and down your body. You assumed they were going to eat you. It's giant hands, big enough to hold your leg like a chicken's, manipulates you onto your back with your legs spread open. One set of arms supports it's body on the rocky 'throne' while the other pair keep your legs open with such strength that could tear you limb from limb. You see your deity's slit ooze with a clear fluid, before a pink nub peeks out between the folds, then it grows into a monster of a cock; one becomes three; the central cock reminiscent of the wild horses that the hunters ride while accompanied by two writhing tendrils with skin that looks too tight for them, it's muscles bulging out from underneath it.

The tentacles slick you up vigorously, excess flowing to pool at your ass. Then they pry your entrance open so the central appendage met no resistance as it plunged into your body without preparation, making you squeal out in pain.

Once you grow accustomed to the monstrous size within you, it begins to rock back and forth, pulling your legs towards them or you'd be scraped on the rocks. It's now you realise the sigils were not for protection, but to turn your cervix into jelly as your divine god plows into your womb, using it as a fleshlight. The accompanying tentacles writhe excitedly: the upper one molests your torso, grabbing onto your chest and slicing you up while the lower one explores your ass before plunging into your second hole; churning your guts like a parasite.

You lose all sense of time, seemingly fucking for hours until you feel a large mass at the base of your cunt; about as big as the child you birthed for the chief that was built like an ox. Your god kept thrusting, pushing the orb harder and harder against your abused hole. The tendril in your ass leaves, slipping into your pussy to pry you open, allowing the orb to enter your body with a heavy plop, followed by a torrent of hot gloopy seed. When the deity pulls out of you, you feel as if all your organs are going to fall out of your pussy, unti it's thumb smears away a sigil on your stomach, cinching your cervix back to optimal tightness.

There was only one egg inside you, you already looked nine months pregnant. You can't wait to give birth.

Oooghghgh hths is incredibly well written well done

what a fucking amazing scenario ngl ngl... getting turned into nothing but a godly fucktoy, sure you're going to hang out with the rest of those sacrificed, all taking care of each other as you waddle around with your immensely heavy bellies...

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heartfullofleeches · 9 months

Note

I imagine that werewolf bodyguard reader has a big appetite so I'd like to think they'll cuddle up to anyone that offers them food, may i please request an affectionate wolfie reader?

Skipped lunch again... Something you shouldn't with strength being your most contributing factor, but with so many prying eyes recently you were dedicated to your post. You eventually crawled away with your tail tucked between your legs as the howls from your empty stomach alerted your fellow guards. You'd serve no use to the team in this state and thus you excused yourself to scrounge around for something quick to hold you off until you got off. You could probably eat an entire city with how your hunger pains clawed at the lining of your stomach - but a sandwich would do for now.

"Y/n! Come here for a sec, we got something for ya!"

The smell hits your nose before their whistle catches your ear. Mouthwatering chicken, hot out of the fryer. You sniff around, following your keen sense of smell to the bed of a truck where two of your coworkers sat with a large plastic bag between them. The bag was tilted on one side and you could see the bucket full of golden chicken within. You wipe the corners of your mouth as you address them.

"Need me for something?"

"Guess you could say that. We were just on break and saw this local joint was still open at this hour so we stopped by for a bite. Noticed you'd been on your feet all day and brought you a treat for your hard work."

The non-speaking party pulls out the bucket and places it on the floor of the trunk. It pains you to tear your eyes away. If you had one, you'd need it all. "Maybe some other time. I don't get off for another hour."

"Aw, don't be like that! Our wolf needs their strength. Just a couple bites, yeah?" The guard grabs a drumstick and waves it at you. You will your eyes shut, but the smell lingers and takes pilot of your feeble mind. You climb aboard the truck bed, squeezing between the two as you hold their wrist steady. You strip the bone of its meat in the matter of seconds, setting your head on the lap of its giver as you chew. Your arms hook around their leg; teeth snatching the bits of chicken they offer as their companion rubs your back; gently reminding you to chew before swallowing with a tap to your shoulder blades.

You swore you stop after one more piece. You had a post to return to and a boss depending on your loyalty. One turned into three til you'd eaten three quarters of what was intended to feed a family of six. You lay between the pair sluggish and a sponge for their soft pats and praise. It reminds you of being the runt of the litter being given extra attention - something you hadn't been in a long time. Couldn't say you didn't miss the treatment despite being bigger than most humans you'd met thus far.

When a hand comes to stroke your jaw you find yourself leaning against it as your head hangs from the weight of fatigue. Your lips rest on their wrist and you instinctively nestle into their warmth as your breathing slows. The heavy bounce of a heel on concrete drags you from sleep and towards the unamused, jealous gaze of your boss.

"Evening, Y/n. You two."

Crumbs fall off your face as you sit upright. "Evening, boss...."

"I believe I've told you before about spoiling them with junk food. In the car, Y/n. Now."

Expecting to be chewed out for abandoning your post you're surprised to end up at a fancy steakhouse after a silent drive. Sitted at the table already stacked with nearly every meal on the menu, the waitress sets a fork and knife in front of your boss while leaving you with no utensils.

"Um... can I get a fork too?"

Your boss cuts a piece of meat and holds the fork to your lips. "No. This is your punishment for skipping lunch and not asking me to bring you food first. You are not leaving this table until these plates are licked clean."

Your stomach grows. "I'm not sure if that will really be a challenge..."

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #werewolf reader #yandere drabble #yandere oc #soft yandere

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naffeclipse · 6 months

Text

Heya @skizabaa! I'm your Secret Skeleton! I might have gone a bit over the word count minimum, but I had so much fun writing this! Your interests/likes are exactly my jam and I loved crafting this little piece for a cozy and sweet Halloween treat for you! I hope you enjoy some creature Sun and a Y/N who wants a friend!

The Harpy and Hazel Trees

Harpy!Sun & Reader

Word Count: ~3,500 Warnings: N/A

You’re so used to the quiet—birds calling to each other, crying out about the cold, and the buzz of the last insects filling the air with the gentle crunch of leaves underneath your feet, fallen off the hazel trees. Your lone heartbeat pulses within your ears.

The quiet eats away at you in the way a caterpillar gnaws away at a leaf: slowly devoured. And yet, you remain. There’s still more of you left to be eaten. It surprises you every time you think you can’t take another moment of silence, of a lack of another’s voice.

Behind your simple wooden cottage, you kneel. Only a pale brown fence marks your lost lot within the forest for the deer merrily prances over it. Knees sinking down into the moist earth, you tug out the last few weeds crowding your pumpkins though they are only weeds in name. The plants, you’ve learned, hold nutrients that pair well in salads. You won’t have fresh greens for much longer.

Autumn sweeps back as if this was always its home, and you, its guest. Your garden is bursting with foods that make the harvest moon happy and the dreaded months of winter bearable. The late-season sun heats the crown of your head and strokes your hair, but it is not a substitute for a friend.

You toil away, cleaning out weeds, plucking fat cucumbers, and snatching a wide green head of lettuce. You’ll have a wonderful bowl of fresh salad tonight and cook an egg to go with it. Your chickens are still producing well but when the cold of the dying year steps in, the chickens will convert their egg-laying efforts to keeping warm, and you don’t blame them.

These winters are brutal, on body and heart.

You shiver under a cool wind. A gust flips leaves of dill and oregano and you mutter of the cold to no one.

Then a shadow falls over you. You lift your head.

You startle in your garden. Perched on your fence just a few feet away from you is a beast, one with a rather wide grin at that. A harpy. He tilts his disk-like head, a large mouth displaying sharp teeth fit for pulling meat off of bones. Beautiful feathers sway around his face, long and curved, bright as sunshine and exquisite. He holds a rather polite expression; if only you could ignore the sharp teeth.

His wide eyes, the color of cornflowers, hold the intensity of the hawk but soften upon gazing at you. His body is covered in a finer layer of plumage, off-white and yellow, with wings for arms and long claws on the ends of his fingers, though his large, raptor-like feet wield talons that currently balance upon your poor fence. He wears no shirt but an ascot tie of silky ruby around his thin throat. Billowy pants conceal his animalistic legs, stripped in a bright pattern of red and yellow. His wings are gently tucked against his side, hands curled in front of his chest in an almost nervous, shy manner. Radiant feathers of scarlet and gold decorate his wingspan.

You understand immediately that he is beautiful and, perhaps, dangerous.

“Hello, I’m so sorry to drop in like this,” he begins, voice bouncing and cheerful, though a touch strained. “I hope I haven’t startled you.”

You slowly get to your feet, stunned. You clear your throat, afraid of how raspy your voice will be—the only conversations you hold are with the chickens and the goat.

“I don’t usually get company out here,” you begin, though you sound a touch defensive. You clear your throat again. “Are you lost?”

“Lost?” The harpy cocks his head to the other side, feathers swaying like a rooster’s tail. “Oh, well, I’m only lost in that I have yet to find what I’m looking for and that I don’t know what I’m looking for yet, but the most pressing matter, currently, is the oncoming storm.”

He lifts one wing, long fingers nearly hidden under the cloak of gold and scarlet feathers, to point to the sky behind you. Careful to not turn your back on the stranger, you glance in the direction.

The harpy is right. Creeping forward are black, angry clouds. They gather low, pushing through the blue skies like a stain of ash. The storm wasn’t climbing the horizon this morning but swiftly it arrived.

He is being very polite, you muse.

“Oh,” you say, then face the harpy again. You clasp your dirt-covered hands, wishing you had thought to wear your apron so you might make yourself a little more decent. Of course, who could have predicted a visitor? Certainly not you. “Yes. I assume you don’t want to be caught in it? You’ve probably flown a long way here, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” he echoes with a grin that’s still toothy but much less sharp. His eyes upturned, the cornflower color beaming. “Could I trouble you for shelter for the evening? I won’t be in your way and I’ll gladly stay in your chicken coop or wherever won’t disturb you.”

You laugh gently. The harpy waits, his nervous hands returning once more to his chest, feathers rustling.

“Oh no, you’re far too big to stay in the chicken coop. You’ll scare my rooster half to death.” You look at him, resting a hand on your hip, forgetting the dirt caked on it. “No, you’ll come inside and out of the storm. The wind that will come will be fierce.”

“Oh!” The harpy leaps from the fence in a flurry of plumage. You start at the snap of his wings but find yourself gazing up into his towering expression, his smile absolutely delighted. “Thank you, friend! You’re so sweet!”

You look away, coughing once, unsure how to take the title he already bestows upon you. Is it even true? Could it be?

“It’s nothing,” you give.

You bend down and snap a pumpkin from its stem, the bright orange gourd is more than ready to be harvested for its seeds. On second thought, you’ll roast pumpkin seeds and have a stew today. A meal that will honor your harpy guest as much as your little garden can.

“Would you take this into the cottage for me?” you ask, pointing. The harpy is watching you closely, his head ticking with sharp adjustments to his gaze, his alertness unparalleled and fascinating. “I could use a hand for a few other things, too… friend. If you don’t mind.”

You hesitated, but saying it out loud dusts a lightness in your chest.

“Of course!” He kneels and scoops the pumpkin into his feathered arms as if it were a mere trifle, not a fully grown vegetable. His claws carefully cradle the orange shell. “My name is Sun. I am at your service!”

You give your name in return.

It’s been so long since you’ve heard someone call for you, but when Sun says it, you feel a little more alive. A little more real.

“Do you like stew?” you ask, plucking your gathered leafy goods that will wait in the cupboard until tomorrow, and lead the way to the back door of the cottage.

“Stew sounds heavenly compared to what I've been scourging these last few days—bugs and berries and other bitter things!” Sun’s jubilee voice is no less dampened by recounting his horrid meals. “Yes, stew sounds lovely. How might I help you, friend?”

He doesn’t see you smile. You lead him to the door and open it, holding it so that he might duck inside and not fumble the precious pumpkin.

“We’ll need a few spices, celery and potatoes. Help me dig some up.”

* * *

Harpy claws, as it turns out, are great at digging up dirt, though you think he might have put them to better use hunting. Sun is cheerful and he easily takes to work. It’s not glorious, digging up potatoes, but he does it all with a smile on his wide face.

You love his chatter. He sounds like birds trilling and cheeping, talking of the weather and the storm and how he was alone before he ventured into these strange but wonderful woods. He doesn’t tell you what he’s seeking, but he doesn’t seem to know either. A wanderer. A lost soul.

Like you.

People like you often end up here, in this forest. A woodland of spooky, lingering things, full of yellowing trees. Everyone is seeking something. A heart hungers beside the hazels. A person gets lost here, but sometimes, a person gets found.

Taking a much-needed breather from work, you lead Sun to the hazel trees. The leaves are soft and pale as butter and halfway melted, dripping to the ground. You show him the hazelnuts, perfectly round, dark treasures. In fascination, he gazes at the hard, black shells that you easily crack, shuck, and reveal the smooth nut hidden within.

For a while, you two snack on hazelnuts. Sun’s tongue is dark red and licks at his teeth, chewing away. You love the soft crunch, and how nutty the flavor is. In summer, you take what you have left from winter storage to mix with cocoa and sugar then crush into a paste. A treat that is so lovely you tell Sun that you wish he could be here to have a bite when you make it.

His feathers perk at the mention. He looks as if he wants to say something, something you earnestly wait to hear, but he only agrees. It does sound lovely.

You return to work. Sun is a bit quieter, back to his anxious hand curling and feather-ruffling, almost pulling a few from around his wrists, but you don’t ask. He would have told you if he wanted to. Why confine a stranger when he’ll be gone after the storm blows through?

You taste something bitter in the back of your mouth.

He helps you haul in the potatoes, celery, and carrots. Your cottage is small, but it fits him and you just right. You begin bowling the pot, adding in bits of beef you fetched from the wooden barrel where it sat in a brine of water and salt to preserve the meat until you were ready to cook. Then you begin chopping the vegetables. Sun fetches you an onion you had forgotten, and when he returns, his feathers blown against his body due to the picking up wind, he begins asking you questions. So. Many. Questions.

You can hardly pause between them. He’s so intrigued by your every boring answer. There’s very little for you to talk about except for the years you spent here and how long you’ve been alone (you don’t tell him the last part, though he does ask about family, and you simply comment that you have none with a sharp chop of your knife across a deep orange carrot.) He smoothly moves on, tending to the boiling pot and feeding the fire when it needs more logs.

You can’t help but stare. A harpy tending to your stew. You think this must be a dream, a wonderful, heart-breaking dream.

Tossing the ingredients into the heated meat and broth, you and Sun wait, listening to the howl of the wind and fearfully eyeing the flames as the pressure in the air snatches at the flames by reaching down the chimney. You’ll let the fire go out when the evening ends instead of fighting with it all night, but it will get cold. You ask Sun if he’ll be alright.

He taps his chest with a wicked sharp finger and promises that his plumage is more than enough to fight off the chill.

You stir the stew and spoon it into simple wooden bowls. You hand one to Sun. His large, clawed hand easily grasps it. He’s so sweet, so grateful. You sit down beside him at your small kitchen table—there was never a need for a full dining room set, and now you worry it’s too humble. You never expected company.

The stew, however, is heavenly. You’re relieved and immediately warmed by the savory broth and melt-in-your-mouth bites of beef and potatoes. Sun tears into the stew and you give him a second, then a third helping. You almost laugh at how sheepish he appears until he eats once more.

He helps you clean up… You didn’t know what you expected, but certainly not his methodical ability to sweep the floor and scrub the pot.

“Thank you, Sun,” you say softly, handing him the last dish to set high on the shelf. “You’ve been a great help today.”

“It’s the least I could do to repay your generosity.” He faces you after setting the bowl away without any stretching or tip-toeing, unlike you. “You’re so kind and there’s so much for you to do by yourself. I’m amazed you can handle all this work. It would put a whole team of fieldhands to shame.”

“Oh, stop it,” you wave him away, ducking your head to hide your bashfulness. “I put you to work. I do hope you’ll sleep well tonight, despite the storm.”

As if summoned by your mere mention, a clap of thunder reverberates through the air. Your heart quakes in the strength of the ferocious growl. Sun whips his head towards the front door as if expecting the storm to rudely barge in without your invitation.

“It’s a very good thing you stopped here,” you say, breathless.

Sun slowly looks back, his hackles raised, and his cornflower blue eyes fall down. You follow his line of sight to your hand touching his feathered wrist, fingers anxiously curled.

“Oh.” You drop your hand away. “My apologies. Let me get you a comfortable place to rest. I’m afraid I only have one bed.”

“No need to apologize,” Sun says quickly, “Were you concerned for me, friend? That’s alright. Friends can be concerned for each other and there’s no shame in that. I truly don’t mind.”

You nod but don’t meet his gaze.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Friend?”

You stop, looking back at him. You wonder if he intends to leave, but that can’t be right. The storm is descending with a vengeance.

“I need only sit by the hearth. I don’t need beds or other human comforts, though I appreciate your offer.”

“Oh.” You look around, the smell of stew having long since drifted away as the fire slowly begins to die. A thick darkness descends. You regard the harpy with a worry for the morning. Sunshine will come, yes, and the skies will be clearer, but he will leave.

You find yourself dreading tomorrow.

“Very well.” You hold his gaze for one brave moment. The cornflower blue holds you. “Goodnight, Sun.’

“Goodnight, friend.”

You close the door to your bedroom. In quiet reflection, you dress into your night clothes and slip under the quilts on your bed. You are so caught up on Sun’s ruffled feathers, his cheerful demeanor, and how anxious he holds his claws.

He calls you a friend. You’ve only just met. You shouldn’t be so attached to a fellow so quickly, yet, you find yourself wondering how you might combat the silence in the afternoon after the thunder ceased its grumbling and the harpy has continued on his way.

You hardly sleep a wink before the storm splatters rain upon the roof and sends winds to rattle the shutters. A quaking bolt of lightning strikes, the thunderous cry shaking the very cottage and you bolt upright. You cry out, disturbed from dozing, dark dreams.

The very world is being torn apart by a dark tempest.

“Friend!” The shout is muffled through the door, but you hop out of bed, bewildered and frantic, and throw it open to find the harpy.

He stoops low, his height eclipsed by the stout door frame. You stare up into his concerned eyes, long hands almost reaching for you but hesitating.

“I heard you shout. Are you alright?”

You lay a hand over your chest and breathe out. The wild blood pumping in your veins has yet to calm, but the sight of Sun’s cheerful face plumage, swirling about his expression like rays of the sun, and his big blue eyes, looking over you for injury or harm, touches your heart.

“Yes, I’m alright. The lightning—the thunder scared me!”

“It’s alright. It startled me, too,” he gives, though grinning with the energy of a thousand afternoons.

Sun peers through the small window in your bedroom. The lightning flashes again, not so close, but the thunder roars upon the little cottage as if a beast had snatched your home into its mouth.

You shudder to think of lying down now.

You hesitate, contrite, then ask quietly, “Sun?”

He visibly perks up and almost hits his head on the top of the doorway. His golden feathers brush against the ceiling of the cottage.

“Yes?”

“Can I sit with you for a while? If I’m not keeping you awake, that is…”

His expression blooms as if a flower under the sun. He grins, the sight so lovely and tender before he takes your hand in his down-soft palm.

“Of course! There are still hot coals in the hearth, and I do hope I can help you stay warm, just a little.”

You lower your shoulders. A calming pulse moves through your chest as Sun, your friend, guides you into the room with the dying embers that beat a last, desperate red in the sooty black.

“Are you cold?” you ask, concerned.

“No,” his eyes upturn, “If it’s alright, I would like to keep you warm.”

He opens his arms, the plumage of his wings falling like a cloak of ruffled sunshine and scarlet. His chest is fuzzy with soft down, and his billowy pants cross to make a comfortable seat on the floor before the cooling heart.

You want nothing more than to enter his embrace. Worry of the morning strains against your weary thoughts, holding you away.

“Are you sure?”

You only met him today. Why do you feel so much for this blossoming friendship, newly made under the threat of a storm and in the dirt of hard work?

He inclines his head gently, his feathers softly sashaying with reassurance. “Yes. I would be delighted to help my friend.”

His warm confidence chips away at the last of your reservations. Breathing in, you ease yourself into his embrace. Settling into his warm body—you didn’t realize how wonderfully comforting his form is, wrapped around yours, like a drop of sunshine. It immediately chases away the autumn cold nipping at your edges. Once you set your back against his chest, feeling a bit conscious of his presence and how you hold yourself, Sun wraps his arms around your shoulders. His beautiful wings cover you up in the burning colors of sunsets. Outside, the thunder and rain harmonize.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

You nod and hook one hand over his fluffy wrist. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yes,” you murmur.

It’s nice to have a friend.

You sit a while, gazing at the fire. Sun hums a low, throaty sound that reminds you of birds calling to each other, and you drift quietly. Your head begins to fall. In smooth, careful motions, Sun shifts your legs so they drape sideways off his lap and guide your cheek so it might rest on the soft pillow of his shoulder. His arms fall upon you again. You are blissfully warm, sleep whispering in your ears.

“Friend?” he says. His fingers curl against your arm. An anxious clench.

“Hmmm?” Your eyelids flutter.

“I was thinking—in the morning, you’ll have so many branches to pick up off your garden and you’ll need to check your chickens and see if any of your precious vegetables have been harmed, and you have so much work to do! I could stay a bit longer tomorrow, just to lend a hand, as a final thank you.”

“Sun?”

Your eyes open in the blue dark of the autumn night. Your heart melts quietly in your chest, and you think you might be brave. You dare to want to be bold enough to let him stay with you, beside you.

The harpy titters nervously. “Well, only if that wouldn’t be an inconvenience for you, of course. I don’t want to impose or linger where I’m not wanted—”

“Sun?”

“Oh! Yes?”

You sigh softly and close your eyes.

“Would you like to stay?” You hesitate quietly. Your heart thumps with all the desire of your being. “My friend?”

The beat of silence is devastating. The echo of nothingness deafens your ears and you almost lift your head to see if you cross a boundary or assume too much, but Sun quietly trills.

“If you’ll have me.”

You smile.

“Yes, I will.”

“Then you know my answer, dearest friend.”

You soften in relief, and in Sun’s gentle melody humming in his chest and soothing your very soul, you drift away. In the morning, there will be Sun. For every day after, it will be you two in the cottage.

You and your dearest friend.

#DCAH2023 #harpy!sun #sun & reader #skizabaa #i hope you like it!!!#naff writing #happy halloween

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avocado-writing · 3 months

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little mage - part 2

notes: this ended up so long. but yall wanted to be patient for porn so here we are lol. sequel to this

words: 5.4k

rating: E

pairing: astarion x reader (no pronouns used, reader has a vulva)

The camp in Wyrm’s Crossing is alive with joy.

Orin the Red has been killed, the party is one Netherstone closer to getting the tadpoles out of their heads, and everyone’s using it as an excuse for a booze-up. The campfire is roasting a pork loin for the main course and you’ve all gathered around it to enjoy each other’s company before dinner. Tav has their lute out and is playing a raunchy song, much to the group’s delight, and their clear voice fills the night with music and laughter.

Across the crackling embers, they catch your eye and give you a wink. You find yourself grinning. You can see why Gale is so totally smitten with them, their upbeat attitude is magnetic. No wonder they became the impromptu leader of this little group, you could quite easily see yourself following them into battle too.

As Karlach drunkenly sweeps the bard up into her arms with a whoop, you let yourself look around the campsite. Lae’zel and Shadowheart are bickering about something inane, but not with the ferocity they once did - it seems more like banter now than anything. Well, as close to banter as a githyanki can get. Halsin and Jaheira are reminiscing about the ‘old days’, and, next to the High Harper, Minsc is loudly telling a tale of his wild past to Wyll who looks equal parts interested and bewildered.

It is lovely to be part of this little family. You’ve never felt more like you belonged somewhere, amidst this group of colourful oddballs.

And finally your eyes settle on the furthest member of the group.

Astarion rarely lets himself be caught up in the middle of things. He sits at the edge of the circle, quietly swirling a glass of wine which you know he doesn’t really want to be drinking, but does so in order to look like he’s busy. He watches the rest of you laugh and joke and be merry in a way which he can’t quite bring himself to be.

You wish you could get him to smile. He looks lighter when he does.

A few days have passed since the… incident in the alleyway, and it’s been enough for the heat to die down both in camp and between your legs. You can look at him without throbbing, now. The two of you haven’t really spoken much outside of quiet morning pleasantries when grabbing a coffee, and those interactions are always around the others. You’ve felt the heat of his eyes bore into you though, and desperately tried to keep yourself from meeting his gaze.

To be honest, you’re glad that you’ve been so busy recently, and that business is keeping you away from Astarion. There simply hasn’t been time to explore things further with him, and you’re not sure you want to.

Well, no. That’s a lie. You do want to, desperately, but you’re worried. Astarion strikes you as being like belladonna: beautiful, but deadly if you let yourself touch.

He is, after all, a two-hundred year old vampire, with all of the baggage that comes with it. And you’re just a little mage.

“Well, seems like someone’s a million miles a–”

You shriek and drop the chicken leg you’re holding to the camp floor. Gale holds up his hands in a gesture of peace.

“My apologies. It was far from my intention to surprise you, especially at the cost of your first course.”

You sigh and grab the chicken, using a quick Prestidigitation to clear off the dirt as Gale takes a seat next to you.

“No, it’s fine. Sorry. My mind was elsewhere, which it shouldn’t have been. I know how important it is for a wizard to keep their wits about them.”

He smiles at that. He always does when you remember one of his lessons. He nods to the chicken bone you’re stripping the meat from.

“You’re getting better at that.”

“Eating floor food?”

“Well, that too perhaps, but I was referring to your grasp on magic. It’s much improved since our last lesson.” He looks a little downcast for a moment. “I’m sorry. We haven’t been focussing as much on your studies as I’d have liked - but, well, I’m sure you can understand that I’ve been somewhat waylaid due to an unwelcome guest.”

“Gale!” you say, faux-shocked, “That’s a horrible way to refer to Tav!”

He looks appalled, then realises you’re joking and grins in relief. You give him a friendly elbow.

“I understand. You didn’t ask for any of this, and we can only take each day as it comes. If anything is a reason to put teaching on a back burner, it’s the threat of being turned into an illithid.” There’s a pause. “And Tav is good for you, you know. You smile more now.”

You see his ears go a bit red, even in the low light of the fire.

“Thank you. I’m inclined to agree. They’re so thoroughly… good,” he decides, reduced to wordlessness in his ardour. He turns to you, and his posture shifts a little. Oh no. He is going to try and be Serious.

“And you know, it isn’t wrong to want to find companionship. If there was someone who you…”

Nope, no. You have to stop this. You can’t talk about your love life (or lack thereof) with Gale, it would be like having The Talk with your big brother. The idea makes you panicked and nauseous.

“Besides, Gale,” you say, quickly, interrupting him and steering the conversation back to magic, “what I just cast was a cantrip, I’ve been able to do those since I could tie my shoes.”

Gale seems relieved that you’re on more solid ground, crossing his arms over his chest with a smile.

“Is that so? Well, please, show me something spellbinding. As it were.”

He sits back and waits for you to show off. You run through your prepared spells in your head and settle on one which feels right: carefully, making sure that nobody will get hurt, you reach out and cast a careful Pyrotechnics on the campfire.

Fireworks shoot into the air, exploding into the night sky with colourful whizzes and bangs. The party all looks up and gasps in surprise and delight at the impromptu little display. You carefully shape the spell so as to keep it vertical, change the colours with a wiggle of your fingers, pulling invisible strings of weave until you feel it naturally come to an end. There’s a beat of silence before the campfire erupts in a cheer, Gale grinning proudly next to you.

“Look at you!” he says, slapping you on the back in triumph, “I’m certain that we’ll have an archwizard on our hands in no time.”

You know he’s exaggerating, but your tutor’s praise does make you beam anyway. In between compliments and Minsc’s pleading for a repeat performance, your eyes drift to the outside of the circle.

To Astarion.

And he’s watching. Of course he is. There’s something unreadable in his expression, something which makes you feel hot under the collar.

Oh, gods. This is a mistake.

You’re suddenly aware of how much the centre of attention you are. Everyone’s eyes are on you, boring into you, watching for the next thing you’ll do.

Astarion’s eyes are on you.

No. You don’t like it. The limelight takes to Tav, not you. You’re a bloody apprentice wizard, not a fabulous bard. The heat rises until it’s eclipsing your face and gods you need to get out of here, now, choking out some half-baked excuse and getting to your feet.

“Are you–?” begins Gale, but you wave him off and quickly scamper away, heart beating in your throat.

Unseen, Astarion slips after you.

The longer you walk, the quicker you go, the more you calm down. Soon you can feel your panic get under control; yet questions swirl around your mind. What were you thinking, doing something so public? You berate yourself for your childishness only to know the answer is there in plain sight.

You wanted Astarion to look at you. To notice you. Oh gods, you are such a little fool. He’d never be properly impressed with you, ever, and to get wound up about it is–

“Well, someone made quite a scene back there.”

You jump. His voice is like an ice cube being run down your spine, chilling and exciting you all at once. In the forest clearing you’ve found yourself in, you turn to face the pale elf, watching as he leans up against a tree, jealous at how easy he can be in this situation.

“I hope you aren’t too put off by the fact that I followed you as you scurried off… though, judging by the way you were looking at me over the campfire, I don’t think you mind the company.”

Then it occurs to you, oh gods, you’re alone with him again, aren’t you? Far from the camp, just the two of you, and with nobody to watch he can do whatever he wants, you can do whatever you want, and…

“You’re overthinking.”

His words cut like a knife through the thick air between you, and then he’s closing the gap, getting close enough to feel your shaky breaths on his skin, red eyes gleaming. His white shirt seems to be particularly unlaced today, revealing broad plains of perfect alabaster.

You want to touch him. You can’t move under his gaze.

“I am,” you manage to confess, voice barely more than a whisper. Astarion chuckles, and you want to hear that sound over and over and over again.

His fingers brush your arm and you gasp. His vulpine smile grows wider, looking at you from under hooded eyes.

“Would you like me to help you stop thinking?”

You nod all too eagerly, and he loves it.

His mouth is just as wonderful on yours as you remember. He tastes nice, too, of vanilla this time - you wonder if he sweetens his breath before he seeks you out. You let him lead the kiss. He has far more experience with this, after all, and it shows: the way your tongues entwine makes you moan in anticipation, the soft clack of his teeth on yours a melody unto itself. When he begins to walk you backwards you immediately follow. It’s a waltz, of a kind, something intimate and sensual, and you reel with ecstasy when you feel your back hit the rough bark of a tree.

Yes. Yes, anything. Anything that he wants to do with you, you’ll offer it all up. You’re drunk on him already, head swimming, only after more Astarion, and then you feel his hand press up against your stomach and start to gently sneak in under your waistband, and he is so so close to touching where you need him most, and –

With far more self-control than you ever realised you had, your hands reach out and grab his forearm in a vice-grip.

“No, no. Astarion. Stop.”

He does, immediately, backing away so that he can scan your face. Your chest may be heaving and body thrumming with desire but you’re not so lost in the thrill of it that you can’t see he’s genuinely concerned. His eyes are wide, searching, trying to work out what he’s done wrong. It’s the first time you’ve seen him be unsure of himself - at least in front of you.

“Did I… do you not want…?”

“No, I do. I do, but… gods, look…” this is so embarrassing but you need to say it or it will be buried forever, and any real chance of connection will be lost, “... if this is just sex for you then I don’t want it, Astarion.”

He looks absolutely bowled over by that. His eyes flit across your face as he attempts to read you; he must think you’re trying to trick him. How far that is from the truth.

You carry on.

“I know… I know you think it might be something you have to do to win me over, or to make me like you. But it isn’t, because I already do like you! I really like you, Astarion. And while, gods know, I want you to take me here on this forest floor, I don’t want this to be some little fling. I want to go out to bookshops with you, and drink coffee, and judge people as they walk by us.” Despite everything he gives a flicker of a smile at that. “I want to hold your hand while we walk places. I want to sit in the park and look at clouds with you. I want to go to sleep next to you, gods damn it, every night if you’ll let me. I want to be there if you need someone on your side. I want… I want all of you, every messy, wild piece of it. So if this is just something physical? I can’t. It would break my heart.”

Astarion lets that little confession settle. He looks utterly gobsmacked, no matter how well he tries to make it seem otherwise. You can tell he’s thinking. That his mind is going a mile a minute trying to work out if you’re being serious, and second-guessing himself when he comes to the conclusion that you are.

And he doesn’t know what to do with that.

The moment hangs in the air, pregnant with possibility, and eventually he reaches in to kiss you. But it is not all tongues and teeth and hunger this time. It’s sweet. Affectionate. And you love it even more than the ones that came before it.

“Aren’t you full of surprises, little mage?” he asks, voice as light as a feather, caressing like velvet. Another kiss before he pulls back, returning to his typical bravado, sighing as if this is all so much, but with a sincere smile on his face which he can’t quite seem to wipe, “Alright, tomorrow, then. We’ll go out for tea. I know a little place I think you’ll like - chamomile is your favourite, isn’t it?”

Your eyes go wide as you nod. It is. And he just knew that.

“It’s a date,” he grins, and your heart skips a beat.

He’s as good as his word.

The next day you head to a little café in one of the quieter areas of the lower city, one with quaint outside tables under large gingham parasols, and the two of you sharing a pot of tea while people-watching. He grins at every bitchy comment you make about someone’s dress sense, and when your feet brush up playfully together underneath the table your heart jumps as if you’re a schoolchild again.

When you finish your cups he indulges you as you go shopping, linking his little finger in yours and letting you pull him along as you go through your new favourite bookstore. He complains but you can tell he doesn’t mean it, not really. He carries your things for you while you let your hands run over the spines of newly-printed tomes, occasionally picking one out and adding it to the pile in his arms. When you’re done, you take the long way back to camp, just to be alone together for a little while longer.

That night you sit with him by the campfire as you eat, lost in quiet conversation, and you absolutely ignore the way that Gale is grinning and trying to catch your eye because oh gods it’s embarrassing when he’s smug - and then, at night, he retires to your tent with you. You thrill as he wraps you in his arms, burying his face in the nape of your neck and drifting off to sleep.

A few days go by and you suggest that, whilst you know Tav has let him feed from them for ease, you’d happily volunteer to take the position. He grins, and whispers something filthy which makes your face hot, and you start waking with a pleasant pain over your jugular from the next morning on.

A few more days on from that, the two of you start kissing in front of the rest of the party. This earns a “yeah, baby!” from Karlach and a good-natured ribbing from the others. You’re insightful enough to know that he likes to show you off a bit, not out of any self-satisfied reason - or at least, not entirely - but because he is genuinely pleased to have you as his paramour. Sitting in his lap at dinner, holding his hand as you stroll through the city, these things become as easy as breathing. Every part of you sings for Astarion, Astarion, Astarion.

One night, he confides his fear about sexual intimacy for you. You’re so glad you didn’t give into him those times before, and tell him you’re happy to wait as long as he needs. There is no rush for you. It breaks your heart how relieved he looks.

Were this your regular day-to-day life, a romance would have blossomed slowly. But it is not your regular life. There is no chance to feel emotions other than intensely on the road you tread, to throw yourselves into one another and be known completely.

When Cazador Szarr dies, you are there. You told Tav you were coming, despite everyone pleading you to stay behind - there was no way you would let Astarion face him without you, and you can tell that he’s secretly relieved to have you there. You sling spells from the back line and pick off his master’s minions, one eye on the vampire lord and the other on your partner. And when the fight is over, and he is offered the possibility of ascension - he looks to you straight away.

A little shake of your head is all that’s needed to dissuade him from the idea entirely.

That night he cries and you hold him, so so tightly. So tightly in fact that you’re scared you’re going to hurt him. But he says nothing, he just presses his face into the place where your shoulder meets your neck and weeps, long and loud and raw and intimate. You stroke his hair and wait until he’s exhausted, then lay him down to sleep wrapped in your arms.

He looks like the weight of the world has been lifted from him the next morning.

When he takes you to his gravestone the two of you sit, hand-in-hand, understanding how much you have come to mean to each other. It is a sweet and intense love you have fostered, so far from the vampire who would have taken you in that alleyway on the way back from Sorcerous Sundries.

Well, maybe not that far, because as you leave the cemetery he sweeps you up in a burning kiss, all tongues and teeth and fire.

Oh. Tonight, then. You can do tonight.

As you head back to the Elfsong, you get him to pause by the front desk, and he watches as you dish out the coin with shaking fingers to rent a suite for the night. You have no intention of going back to the party’s shared floor. When he realises what this means, Astarion is half elated and half trepidatious as the two of you ascend the stairs to your private room.

“My sweet,” he says, eyes blazing salaciously but sincere in his words of comfort, “you know that we don’t have to…”

“I know. But I want to,” you tell him, utterly sure, “but only if you want to, as well. I know how you feel about… all this. If there’s even a single doubt in your mind, then—”

He kisses you so fiercely that the breath is stolen from your lungs. You don’t even realise he’s taken the keys from your hands until the door swings open and the two of you tumble back into the room, into bed.

His mouth is hot and delicious, kissing every inch of your skin he can find. Little nips of fangs only serve to excite you. He is thorough in his exploration; lavishing attention only onto what is exposed, and it leaves you a mewling mess beneath him.

“Astarion… please,” you beg. His eyes are heavy-lidded as he looks up at you from your chest, your sternum aching pleasantly from his ministrations.

“Please what, little mage?”

Oh, he knows how it excites you when he calls you that. Without even thinking, your hips rut up into his. He smiles in hunger and delight.

“Use your words, my love.”

“I need you to touch me.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

This seems to satisfy him, and he tugs at your shirt until it becomes untucked from your waistband, slowly lifting it until you take it off properly. Chest bared to him for the first time with the promise of lovemaking, he slowly reaches to take a nipple in his mouth and sucks. You moan and cant beneath his body, letting his teeth graze your areola, allowing his fangs tease the soft skin he finds. When his hand reaches up to touch your lips you let them fall open easily, letting him fuck your tongue with his fingers.

“Good… you’re so pliant, aren’t you? Naughty little thing. Desperate for me.”

This talk is driving you wild. It will kill you, you’re sure of it. You throb, actually throb, and moan as he reaches for your trousers. It’s an easy shucking and oh gods he’s taken your underwear too and then you’re lying there, bare beneath his gaze.

He looks you up and down. Your chest heaves.

“Like what you see?” you want it to be playful, but instead it’s full of nerves. You really, really hope he does. If your body is anything less than desirable to him you’ll be shattered.

He senses the worry in your words and, rather than continue his work on your chest, reaches over to kiss you, slow and sweet. It’s a kiss you know well, one you’ve given him a dozen times over: a kiss of reassurance.

“You’re divine,” he whispers. A thrill runs up you. This man - this man, who could have been carved out of marble by the gods themselves - thinks you’re divine. A surge of courage runs through you and you sweep him in for another kiss, taking his hand in yours and guiding it down your body.

When he first touches between your legs you think you might explode. His long, dexterous fingers slowly spread you open, running along the soft seam of your cunt. You find yourself reduced to jelly, a quivering mess as he explores you for the first time. His touch is gentle, reverent, careful; his fingers find your sweetest spot and rub there for a moment until you see stars light up behind your eyes.

It’s good. So good. When he presses those fingers inside you gasp a little but he is attentive to what he does. There is no urgency as he slips in one, then two, slowly pumping you as you hope he plans to with his cock later. Your legs spread and he settles between them better, lavishing your skin with kisses and your ego with praise.

“So lovely… so wet. I’m going to make this good for you. I’m going to empty your head of every piece of magic you know, you gorgeous thing, and replace it only with the feeling of this.”

At that he crooks his fingers upwards and you squeak as he hits a spot that sends electricity along every nerve in your body.

“Astarion—!”

“Yes, that’s it.” He drops a kiss to your shoulder and continues his work, fucking you with his fingers. He slips in a third when he feels you’re ready enough, and when his thumb presses into your clit you know you’re hurtling towards the first orgasm someone else has ever given you.

It’s magnificent. It’s syrupy and sweet and shocking, crashing over your body like a wild tide and dragging you out to sea with it. You come all over his hand and ride it out, pressing your cunt down into his palm and rutting up against it like a dog in heat. Astarion smiles, and though it’s lustful and heavy-lidded you can see the genuine affection for you there too, a true happiness that you’d give yourself to him like this.

When the feeling has passed he kisses you before slowly removing his fingers and pressing them into his mouth. Your eyes go wide.

“Astarion!” you squeak. He gives a blasé shrug.

“I wanted to taste you. Can you really blame me? You look delicious.”

Face hot again you do the only thing you can think of: thump him playfully with one of the decorative cushions on the bed. He looks actually shocked at that before he bursts into genuine joyful laughter, and you do too - and it’s good. It’s so, so good. You’re in bed with the man you love and laughing because it’s silly and you feel safe and adored. And it occurs to you: yes, you do love him. You want to keep him happy and safe and in your arms for as long as he’ll let you, which is hopefully forever.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes,” you point out. He looks down to where he’s still fully dressed, cock pressing achingly against the front of his trousers.

“I suppose I am. Let’s remedy that.”

You help him remove his shirt, caressing the expanse of smooth chest he reveals, undo the laces of his bottoms and pull him free. His length stands hard and ready in front of you and it gives you a not insubstantial thrill that you’re the one who managed to do this to him. You!

You take him in your hand, carefully, and he groans. Smiling, you let your body take over - pumping him slowly and languidly, as easy a pace as he set with you. He’s a decent size and thick, something you can see fitting quite comfortably inside you.

Emboldened, you reach forward and lick a stripe up him. Astarion arches as if he’s been electrocuted, and his hands dig into your shoulders to halt you.

“Oh… did I do something wrong…?” you ask, but when you meet his gaze you don’t find scorn or anger. You find such unbridled, carnal desire you’re overtaken with it.

“No. Quite the opposite. If you do that I will end up finishing in your mouth. And while it’s a lovely thought - I want this to be about you.”

You release his cock and let it bob against his stomach, moving to give him another tender kiss.

“It’s not about me. It’s about us.”

He smiles, softly.

“Indeed it is, my love. Indeed it is.”

He manoeuvres you, carefully, so that you’re lying back on the bed, legs spread open for him as he takes himself in his hand and rubs it against your already orgasm-drenched cunt.

“Will it hurt?” you ask, suddenly a little scared. This is happening. It’s happening.

But Astarion is sweet. A kiss is dropped to your shoulder, tender and reassuring.

“If it does, tell me, and I’ll stop. I swear.”

You trust him. You lie back and fan your legs open a little further, letting him press the head of his cock against your entrance and start to slide it.

It’s an unfamiliar but welcome feeling. You’re full for the first time, in a different way to his fingers; his cock is thicker and spreads you in a far more lucious way. You gasp as he enters into you, each little thrust of his hips easing him inside deeper, and though it does sting a little the pleasure that he brings is far more easy to concentrate on.

“Oh… oh…” is all you can manage, and when you look up Astarion’s eyes are screwed shut in concentration, like he has to actively prevent himself from fucking you with the vigour he wants to. That’s promising. You hope the next night you spend like this will be far more wild, once you’re used to the feeling of him.

Eventually he sinks all the way up to his base. He groans, cock throbbing inside you, totally sheathed. Together as one. His forehead presses down against yours, and he takes deep and slow inhales he doesn’t need - encouraging you to get your own breathing in sync with his, calm you down and adjust to it.

Soon you’re used to the intrusion of him, and you nudge your hips up against his. He smiles.

“And here I thought learning magic required patience. You seem to have none of it.”

“I’m patient when it comes to how to cast a bloody fireball, Astarion. If you don’t start moving now, I might explode.”

He chuckles again, genuine in his glee, and slowly begins to buck his hips. His cock stretches you wider, and his head grazes that sweet spot over and over. Oh, it is delicious. Your body is on fire for Astarion Ancunín and you never want to extinguish it; you want him to keep on fanning this flame forever. You will become a roaring inferno under his touch and nothing has ever seemed more appealing to you.

“My love,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer. He peppers your neck and shoulder with kisses as he thrusts, utterly enchanted by you, fangs tracing your throat as your racing heartbeat echoes in it.

“My love,” he replies in kind, speeding up as he can feel how soaked you’re getting. You cup his face with your hands so that you can see him properly. Oh, Astarion. Your Astarion. The moon in your sky and every star around it.

Your cunt aches, but not from discomfort but from pleasure. You can tell you’re going to come again soon, and want it to harmonise with his own release, have the two of you crescendo together. If the way his hips are beginning to move arrythmically, erratically, you can sense he’s not far from completion either.

“Please… inside…” you manage, and oh gods he is gone. His hips stutter as he empties himself inside of you with a little moan, flooding your cunt with hot jets of his release and toppling you over the edge with him. You sink your fingernails into his back, over his scars — those damned scars, scars he’s never going to have to be afraid of again — and cry out your pleasure.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breaths. You need it, he literally doesn’t, but feels he probably ought to take a moment anyway to let you collect your thoughts. He rolls off and lies on the bed next to you, eyes roving up and down your panting, sweat-slicked body.

You can tell there’s a tiny hint of nervousness in him. A bite of worry that you didn’t enjoy it. To quell his mind you reach over and bring him into a slow, long, tongue-twisting kiss. He noticeably relaxes under you.

“That was… everything,” you confess. “More of that. Please.”

He laughs.

“Oh gods, I’ve made a monster. You’re going to be insatiable now, aren’t you?”

You playfully bite the air above his face, baring your teeth like an animal, before grimacing as your newly-abused cunt twinges. You reach between your legs and find him dripping out of you sinfully, but also that your fingers come back coated a little in red. Proof of what just happened.

Without warning Astarion grabs your wrist and presses your bloody fingers into his mouth, sucking on them with a groan.

“Astarion!” you shriek with a shocked giggle, reaching to grab the pillow and give him another swipe with it - but he wrestles you back into the mattress, pinning you down playfully. He kisses you again, then, and you feel the affection rolling off of him. Adoration, there’s no other word. Devoted adoration.

“I love you, my little mage. My heart,” he confesses, in the low light of the inn’s room, face dancing in the moonlight from where the two of you didn’t bother to join the curtains. The words sound odd coming from his throat. As if he’s had no reason to say them for a long, long time.

You’re glad you were the spark he needed.

“I love you too.”

Whatever comes next, you’re in it together.

Dividers by firefly-graphics!

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate@dhampling (lmk if you want to be added!) and those of you who seemed interested in the original lol: @the-littlest-bruja @ravenswritingroom @piperd06 @thedump1inhere @flustered-fawn @hopeful-n-sad

#astarion x you #astarion fic #astarion imagine #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #request

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waklman · 11 months

Note

Hi Tilly! So, I’m living by myself for the first time and my dishwasher just flooded my apartment 🫠I’m fine😀, really… 😭. Anyways, I just wanted to ask you to maybe write something with Bradley and babybear 🥺. They are my comfort characters! love ya ❤️

summary: you and bradley go out for a late night snack or bf! bradley who stands there in silence x gf! who orders food for them both.

warnings: mentions of strict dieting, one or two suggestive jokes. fluff, 18+ blog.

note: helpp the way that kind of made me laugh. as a fellow girlie who also gets herself in trouble when left alone, i hope your floors are okay! excuse the quality as writers block has me by the neck

something 'bout you masterlist.

It’s not often that Bradley dines out. He’ll indulge in some of Penny’s greasy bar snacks once in a while—nothing more than that.

With the one time he did slack off, it wasn’t exactly easy to get back to his original physique. In fact, Bradley even found himself struggling to keep up with the likes of Hangman at one point.

And that was just the wake up call he needed to finally get back on track.

Since then, he’s made sure to double down on his efforts to stay in shape, scarfing down his protein packed, repetitive, plain meals. It’d be a lie to say that it wasn’t a bit tasking, but it's nothing Bradley Bradshaw couldn’t put up with. And when Bradley was committed towards something, he was all in.

But what he forgot to include in his ‘fool proof’ plan to remain loyal to his diet, was his stubborn girlfriend who loves to spoil him rotten. Which is why he's finding it difficult to swallow down his food tonight.

The usual pre-prepped dinner has never tasted so bland and downright dry, especially when you’re planted in front of him with that tablet in your hands.

For the past thirty minutes, Bradley has been subjected to a screening of strangers eating a variety of foods—from huge portions of instant noodles—to enormous crab legs being dipped in buckets of cheese.

He’s seen it all.

“Give in,” you whisper, fingers tightly curled around the edges of the ipad, though, you’re careful enough to not block the screen itself.

Across the rounded table he’s sat in, you’re standing there like you’re getting paid to show him a compilation of mukbang videos. You’d put the billboards lined up on the nearby highways to shame.

“Not a fucking chance,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head firmly.

Stabbing his fork into another piece of boiled chicken, Bradley stuffs it into his mouth in defiance. He refuses to wave the white flag, not when he’s worked so hard to finally restrain himself.

Maverick would have to come twirling into the living-room in ballerina-get up for him to take it as a sign to treat himself to a cheat meal.

At his clear refusal to give in, your head peeks out, just so slightly, behind the thirteen inch screen, eyes narrowed with fiery determination igniting them.

“Mcdonalds. Wendys. Burger King. In and Out,” you repeatedly chant, legs starting to tremble under the strain of standing up for so long.

Bradley only flares his nostrils, a sign that he is not backing down either.

In any other scenario, his knees would’ve immediately buckled after one plea from you. But right now, he knows you’d stuff his face with junk—that he’s been successfully cutting out for months, if you were given the okay from him.

Though, he does have to admit, he’s finding it hard to keep a stern face because your legs look like they’re about to completely give out. Not wanting to keep you up any longer, Bradley tunes out your endless chant of fast food chains—which somehow turns into a catchy song, as he shovels more strips of chicken in his mouth.

Maybe if he finishes his dinner faster, he could coax you onto the couch to watch more Ryan Gosling movies.

Following your gut feeling, you lift a finger to the front of the screen, tapping repeatedly on the skip button—until it felt right. After spamming your pointer just a few times, you lift the index off the glass, letting it play at a random point in the compilation.

Bradley’s tongue prods his cheek, straight face starting to falter. “Baby it’s not gonna work. Please just sit dow—”

His mouth immediately clamps shut, throat moving as he swallows back a wad of drool pooling inside his mouth. The boring dinner under him is long forgotten.

Noticing his dazed state, you lower the screen to probe what finally caught his attention. Bradley’s eyes practically trails the movement of the tablet, not looking away for a second.

A platter of juicy burgers leaking oil and mountains of fries is what breaks him.

“And he’ll have the double bacon-burger, two large fries, one coke and—”

The teenage boy behind the register blinks in disbelief, watching the giant man in front of him lean down towards his girlfriend, shyly whispering in her ear.

Bradley draws back again, standing a head taller than you with his arms crossed around your front, glassy eyes roaming the lit-up menu stretched above the line of registers.

“Oh, can we actually make that a root beer? Also I’m really sorry, but can you remove the tomatoes from the burger as well?” You request, giving Bradley comforting strokes on the forearm he has slung over your chest.

“Yes, Ma’m I can…I can do that for you,” the worker clears his throat, editing the order on the screen, customer service voice practically cracking.

When you two first walked in, with matching pajama pants, the fast food employee assumed he was dealing with a pair of psychos from the streets.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, he’d always get one or two unsettling visitors in the duration of his night shift. But they’d always prowl inside the joint by themselves—they never had company—nor have they ever teamed up on him before. Briefly, he considered hovering his hand over the dusty emergency button directly under the counter.

But to his surprise, you two were just a relatively normal couple with a craving for burgers at midnight.

“Alrighty, your total comes out to 18.50,” he reads, eyes nervously darting between the two of you. “...Will that be cash or card?”

Almost in a race with each other, you both drop the lovely couple act, digging in your own pajama pants for your wallets. The anxious worker behind the counter starts taking a careful step back, afraid you two were going to pull out a weapon on him all of a sudden. God, he shouldn’t have let his guard down so easily.

He stills as you beat Bradley to it, holding out a credit card between your fingers, excitedly pointing it towards him.

Bradley begins to panic, patting down his empty pockets. “Babybear, where the fuck is my wallet?” He tilts his head down at you, a knowing look settling on his face.

As the credit card is taken from you, your mouth stretches into a wide smile, and you crane your neck backwards to look at him. “I tossed it in the back of the car when you weren’t looking,” you gleam in satisfaction.

Bradley sighs in disbelief, no wonder you were so clingy in the car.

“Is that why you were crawlin’ all over me during all the stop lights?”

“Gimme a kiss,” you suddenly demand, cutting him off.

Bradley blinks at your puckered lips.

It practically pulls him into a trance, because he’s already dipping his head down to give you a quick peck. In a strange way, it’s almost a perfect recreation of that upside-down spider man kiss scene.

Ultimately, he decides to keep the comparison to himself. If he were to mention it, you’d most likely start gushing about another movie actor.

He’s already heard enough of Ryan Gosling lately.

“I know you can open your mouth bigger than that,” you frown in his lap, readjusting the bundle of fries between your fingers.

The buckle of his undone seatbelt hits your ankle when you wriggle to find a comfortable position next.

Bradley licks the ketchup off his lip. “Yeah, you would know,” he teases, giving your butt a quick squeeze, sleazy look on his face.

Somehow, he’s the same person who was barely able to order food for himself inside the burger joint that’s currently behind his parked Bronco.

Receiving a silent look of disapproval from you, he finally clears his throat.

“Okay, someone didn’t find that funny,” he mumbles, stretching his mouth wider for you.

“A little more. Ahhh,” you sing, encouraging him to take the fistful of french fries. Under you, Bradley nearly chokes when you stuff one more in his mouth, slamming his jaw shut with finality.

“I like when your mouth is full. Less talking,” you jut your chin at him, all too pleased with the lapse of silence.

Bradley stills his chewing, raising a brow at you.

“Ugh! Stop it. Keep chewing those fries,” you complain, reaching for the large root beer resting on the dashboard behind you.

Bradley grins, mouth full of food, holding you steady when you twist your middle to grab the drink.

Swallowing down a large ball of potato, he leans forward, wrapping his lips around the straw, taking a long sip from the drink cradled between your hands.

“Are you full?” You question, watching him lean back after finishing off the remains of the beverage. You decide to set the empty cup into the driver's seat for now.

“Feeling so full, baby,” he groans, shutting his eyes as if it’ll help him digest it faster.

Pursing your lips to hold back a laugh, you place a suggestive hand over his stomach. “Yeah? Feel it all in your tummy,” your voice drops to a lower register, mimicking his dirty talk from the other day.

His eyes snap open, immediately.

The cramped Bronco, littered in empty paper bags and greasy wrapping paper jostles as he rushes to sit up tall. “You said no more jokes,” he scoffs, pinching your sides. What you said was worse than everything else he spat out tonight.

“Hey,” you whine, scratching his bloated stomach with your nails. “Don’t act all mad big guy. I know you’re about to give in anyways,” you giggle.

Bradley traces his teeth with his tongue, failing to conceal his growing smile. Because you’re right.

If you weren’t, he wouldn’t be thirty minutes away from home, favorite person in his lap and favorite cheat meal in his stomach.

join the taglist for this series here or follow me on @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!

tags: @s0uz4s @bradswolfe @swiftsgirlfriend @djs8891 @cherrylipgloss-baby @mannsachds @strokesofstokes @grxcisxhy-wp @anna1523 @coconut152 @goosterroose @chicomonks @pedrohoe04 @cruelmissdior @angelbabyange @shanimallina87 @ohgodnotagainn @cottagecori @maplesyurp07 @atarmychick007 @Olivia21blunt @s-u-t @hangmanscoming @geraltsaxii @wkndwlff @sammyrenae68 @bradshawed @roosterbruiser @gracelyn-writes @bubblegumbeautyqueen @angeliccks @zombiedeathsworld @blueoorchid @averyhotchner @laylaskywalker @swiftsgirlfriend @genius2050 @domeafavour505

#bradley bradshaw drabble #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster x y/n #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster fic #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #tgm fic #bradley bradshaw fluff #rooster fluff

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ebodebo · 4 months

Text

summary: basically, price finds a little something in your shared room, and he pretends he doesn't know what it is.

pairing: john price x f!reader

a/n: HEY i felt like i really needed to add more fics of peepaw because he's just that girl. hope you like it even though it is not the best!

word count: 1.3k+

18+ Content

wanna be on my taglist ? fill out this form !

NSFW CONTENT

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Table Eats

You had your music blasting as you prepared dinner in the kitchen while your boyfriend, John, was at work.

While preparing your prized charcuterie board, you heard keys outside the front door, signaling John was back from work.

You hurried and cut more cheese to put on the board while you heard the front door swing open.

"Hey." You swiveled to face him, noticing a bouquet in his hand. "Are those for me?" You cheekily smiled.

"No. I got them for the dog." He said sarcastically. You let out a laugh.

"And they say chivalry is dead." You chime as you bend to open the oven, checking on the chicken.

John quickly sets his things down and makes his way over to you, grabbing your hips with his rough hands and pulling your ass onto him, causing you to laugh.

"Missed me, huh?" You softly laugh as you continue to check the chicken.

"I always fuckin' miss you." He gruffly says, as his hand lightly roams under your shirt, grazing your bare skin.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" You finally lift your body back up facing him, his hands never leaving your hips.

He bends down, and his lips lightly brush yours.

"I'll let you seduce me after dinner." You peck his lips and move past him to the stove. A slight groan leaves his mouth.

"Can you go get me a hair tie from the bedroom?" You nicely ask.

"Sure." He turns to go to the bedroom, but not before gently smacking your ass, causing you to squeak. "John!" You shout as a smile spreads across his face.

He returns after a little bit with a hair tie in hand in one hand.

"Are you developing cataracts?" You chuckle as you reach for it. "What took you so long?"

"What're these?" He questions.

You stop stirring and turn towards him. You let out another chuckle. "Underwear." You say.

He cocks a brow. "How do these even work?"

You laugh hard as you bring your hand to cover your mouth. "I didn't know you were that old, John."

"I just don't understand how you would wear these." He states as he stretches the bundle of lace out, examining it more.

"Would you like me to demonstrate?" You tilt your head.

"It seems like the only option." He purses his lips.

You step closer to him, grab the fabric and head to the bedroom. "Watch the vegetables!" You yell as you step into the room.

You come back minutes later with the lacy panties over your sweatpants. "See?" You do a twirl.

He squints his eyes. "I'm still not understanding where they would go on your body." He tilts his head. "I think it's best for a bare demonstration."

"Really? You think so?" You cross your arms.

He pretends to contemplate. "I think it's best. I'm a visual learner."

You lightly tug your bottom lip with your top teeth before spinning on your heels and heading back into the room.

You strip yourself of both the lace panties and the sweatpants but swiftly glide the panties back on.

You step out of the room, feeling the cool air brush against your bare ass. "See."

He lets out a deep breath before slowly stepping closer to you. His fingers lightly graze your bare thigh, causing you to let out a shallow breath.

"Turn around fer'me." He lazily says, his voice sounding husky.

You oblige, turning around slowly, revealing your bare ass.

"Christ." He breathes out as he brings his hands up to gently cup your ass, eliciting a moan from you. He's quick to turn you back around and smash his lips onto yours.

He lightly glides his tongue across your bottom lip as he brings his hand up to cup your cunt, causing your mouth to open slightly as you let out a moan, though he is quick to fill your mouth with his tongue.

"More." You breathlessly say, in between kisses. "I need more."

"Ya?" He lustfully says, as his lips move down your jaw. "More what?"

His teeth graze your jaw before moving down to your neck, where he leaves sloppily kisses. "Huh?" He tuts.

"I just want more." You squirm in his arms as he sucks a sensitive part of your neck. "Touch me." You continue. "Please."

"I'll do you one better." He whispers into your neck before gripping the back of your thighs, picking you up, and laying you on the kitchen table.

"I'll make you feel good." He slowly drags his lips up your calf, then your thigh, then stopping at your hip. He gathers the lace fabric on your hip with his teeth and steadily pulls them off.

You shudder as his teeth drag down your body, and the fabric slides off, causing you to feel the cool air grazing your dripping cunt.

"Take your shirt off fer' me." He instructs. "Let me see those beautiful breasts."

You let out a quiet laugh. John is quick to cock his brow. "Breasts? Just call them tits." You say as you grab the hem of your shirt and lift it over your head.

"What's wrong with breasts?" He gruffly asks.

"It sounds too formal. Too old-" You promptly throw your head back and loudly moan. You look back at him and realize your nipple is in between his pointer finger and thumb.

"What was that?" He taunts.

"You can call them whatever you want if you do that again." You breathe out.

He gruffly chuckles as he bends down to get on his knees. "What're you doing?" Your lust-filled eyes dart towards him.

"I have to taste you." He lowers his head down so it's in between your legs.

You quickly lift the bottom half of your body so it's closer to his mouth.

"Eager, huh?" He presses his lips onto the inside of your thigh, slowly making his way to your aching cunt, causing you to whimper and squirm. He then focuses on your sensitive region, carefully sucking it.

You throw your head back. "Fuck..John.." You whine. "I need more."

"Put me where you want me." He mutters against you. You raise your hands to grip his hair and guide him where you ache. He immediately begins sucking and licking harder. "Right there." You moan.

"Touch me." You whimper.

He brings his hand up to graze your stomach, slowly moving up so he's cupping your breast. "I... I.." You breathe out.

"Use my mouth." He murmurs into your cunt. You take that as an invitation to grind your body against his wet, hot mouth.

"Fuck." You moan out as his tongue moves faster against your clit. "God, I love your tongue." You praise

You feel more electricity move through your body as you feel the vibrations of his laughter against you.

He could feel your body started to tighten, so he began massaging the breast that was still in his hand and sucking on your sensitive bud.

"R..Right there!" You cry out. "John. Coming." You felt the intense pleasure spread throughout your entire body. Your heart was racing, and your toes were curling.

Your post-orgasm bliss lasted briefly before you heard the smoke alarm go off.

You swivel your face towards an unconcerned John, whose beard and face are covered in your arousal.

Your eyes widen. "The chicken!" You screech as you slide off the table, still shaky, to go to the oven. You grab your oven mitts and open the oven. The smoke immediately hits your face and fills your lungs, causing you to cough.

You managed to grab the tray the chicken was on and pull it out, placing it on the stove. It was black and had a charred appearance.

You turn your attention back to John. "You made me burn the chicken!"

"How did I make you burn the chicken?" He tilted his head, eyes wandering over your naked body.

"You distracted me!" You stated.

"You could have made me stop." He countered, smirking.

"Well...I..I..." He raised his eyebrows as you struggled to come up with something.

"Exactly." He cockily said.

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taglist: @yuenity @callsign-artemis @fivenightsatnattys @minihotdog @theloneshadow24 @harpsinfinity @bleached-punk

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satorubi · 1 year

Text

# ON CAM ! — eren jaeger

ꕤ SYNOPSIS — you and your boyfriend discover voyeurism.

— • content warning - voyeurism, f!reader, dom! eren, sub! reader, praise & degrading mixture, reader finds out that she’s a squirter :0, eren and u have matching tats, slight choking, a little bit of tongue fucking & fingering, oral, missionary, breeding, mating press, use of pet names such as ꒰ baby, slut, princess ꒱ aftercare.

— • notes — bruh. i feel like this is SUPER long and i apologize for that but my mind just kept running. i hope u all enjoyyy!! reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated <33

“wait—so you wanna’ film us fucking?”

the emerald-eyed boy looked down at you with a quirked brow as you showed him a rather inappropriate video on your phone. you couldn’t quite read your boyfriend’s face. he looked confused— yet intrigued and by the looks of his pants, maybe even a little turned on.

“well, yes. but we most definitely don’t have to if you don’t want to. i don’t know— i just thought maybe it’d be kinda fun or something.“ you ramble, worried of what your boyfriend might be thinking of you. in all honesty, you didn’t really think eren would be into this — eren liked what he liked and your weren’t exactly sure that this was his sort of ordeal.

“what, you wanna’ be my lil’ pornstar or something?”

you giggle, the title going through your ear and down to your panties. eren placed a small kiss on your forehead before disappearing into your bedroom. curious, you trail behind him like a lost puppy. no little after your new found discovery, your boyfriend could be seen setting up his phone on the dresser at angle to where the mattress was in perfect view.

“what’re you doing ren’?” you inquire, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“you wanted to make a movie right? let’s make one.”

to say you weren’t nervous would be a lie. yes, this was your idea, but you didn’t actually think he’d do it — nor even consider it, but eren always seemed to prove you wrong.

“c’mon, don’t chicken out on me now, pretty.”

“i’m not!” you fight, folding your arms, “just didn’t think you’d actually wanna’ do this with me.”

the led lights stripped across your wall shined a light pink color as eren inched his way over to you. you could feel the callouses on his hands as he moved them from your shoulders to your cheeks, cupping them in his hands before whispering, “let’s put on a show,” onto your plump lips.

you gave into the kiss, and how could you not? it was impossible not to when his hands were now gripping and mounding at the flesh of your ass, the shorts that covered your bottom doing no justice. he had you damp from just a few simple kisses because when eren kissed, he kissed passionately, groaning and moaning into your mouth as your tongues danced in sync. his sounds only made your insides churn.

“get on the bed, baby— wanna’ taste you.”

you followed his orders without hesitation, laying your back against the cool silk bedspread and spreading your legs as wide as you could. without warning, a harsh slap to your thigh causes your head to lift, your eyes squinting over at eren who had a stern look on his face.

“flip over and arch your back. you know how i like to eat it.”

you quickly did as you were told, turning onto your tummy and perking your ass up high in the air for his appeal. he stared in awe as your cheeks jiggled from your adjustment. no matter how many times he’s seen it, he’ll never get over your ass — the way it ripples when he fucked you from behind. or the stretch marks that you’ve gotten over time. or maybe it was the matching tattoo of his small initials on your right cheek— yours being on his v-line.

yeah, that last one was definitely his most favorite.

“ren’ please do something— i need you,” you whine, inching your ass back in hopes to tempt him enough to get started already. you hated when he did this— teasing you. he knew how badly you ached for his touch, but you were just so cute begging for him like this.

“relax,” he grunts, lowering his body down to be leveled with your dripping cunt. you could feel his small breaths against your core, sending a chill down your spine. finally, after what felt like forever, eren’s rough hands gripped your cheeks, spreading them apart to get a clear view of your gushing opening.

“pussy’s so fuckin’ pretty,” he says, voice being muffled as he digs in. his tongue lapped at your folds before he entered it in and out of your hole, the cold metal of his tongue piercing causing you to flinch at the feeling. he smiles into your pussy as he ate at you like you were his final meal, your moans and whimpers encouraging his performance.

“oooo—fuck! eren, yes—you’re so good at that, baby.”

he must’ve liked your praise, because as soon as the words fell from your lips, eren’s tongue seemed to pick up speed. you began to move and grind your cunt onto him, fucking his face as your ass cheeks smothered him. for a brief moment, eren didn’t move his mouth an inch, allowing you to fuck yourself as you pleased — using his tongue as your toy.

“aah. ren’ oh my— shit! m’ cumming. m’ cumming.” you yelp, earning a long groan from eren that sent vibrations to your core— only making your orgasm approach quicker. something felt different about this feeling. you had a sudden urge to pee rather than cum and in fear, you begin to run away from your climax.

but eren wasn’t having that. not one bit.

his long arms extended outward, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back before sticking his middle and index finger deep into you, “wait— wait, wait, wait. i don’t know ren’— i feel like i’m gonna—“

“what? gonna’ make a mess?” he taunts.

“ren’ please.”

“it’s okay, baby. ill clean it up. i’ll clean it all up. go ahead, make a mess for me.” he continued to encourage you all while using his free hand to push down on your belly, making your orgasm come at a meaner, faster pace than usual as you stared at him with pleading eyes. you watched as he mouthed the words ‘cum for me’ and as if it were on cue, your pussy clamped around his fingers.

“yes, yesss. good girl,” he purrs, jolting his hand in and out of you until you could only see white spots around the room. once you gathered some sort of consciousness back, you looked down between your legs, eren slowly removing his fingers from your hole with a mixture of your juices and his salvia all over them.

“damn, i didn’t know you could do that,” he laughs.

“neither did i.”

you smiled and opened your mouth without him having to ask, your way of asking him to taste yourself. without another thought, eren stuck his soaked fingers inside of your mouth as your lips closed around them.

“mmh,” you moan.

“you taste good, huh?”

you nod, “think you can make me do that again? it felt s-so good ren’.”

“you don’t even have to ask. ima’ do that anyway,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss at your neck as he positioned himself above you. there wasn’t a single moment of clarity before he had you spread for him again— your legs on either side of your head as he gripped at your breasts. as eager as he was to finally feel you, he needed a moment to bask in all of your glory.

you were so beautiful like this — spread and open for him and only him to see. every time the two of you fucked, the only thing he could think about was how lucky he was to have you. it was more than just the amazing sex — it was like a sense of euphoria that couldn’t be achieved with anyone else but his pretty girl.

“eren, i need you, baby. please— fuck me.”

at first, eren had an intention of teasing you the whole night, but that idea quickly faded the moment he entered his cock into the warmth of your pussy. he stroked slowly, in and out at a gentle pace to get you use to the feeling of him splitting you open.

“ah— shit. you’re so tight. every fuckin’ time,” he grunts. everything around him seemed to be drowned out by your whimpers and whines. by now his strokes had picked up. the gold anklet on your foot hung by his ear as he pounded into you, his tip kissing at your plushy cervix.

it was a mix of pleasure and pain. the feeling of your pussy being filled to the brim with his length. he’d never fucked you like this before — like he needed you. just when you thought you couldn’t possibly fall more in love with him, he quickly debunked that theory.

“god— look at the way you’re squeezing me. you’re unbelievable. you like being fucked on camera, huh? give em’ a smile, slut.” he teases, his upper lip turning into a grin as he moved his hands to squeeze at your neck— your mouth producing strained moans from the back of your throat.

“eren, m-more please. i need you deeper. i wanna’ feel it here,” you say, hand moving down toward the pudge of your stomach. before you could say another word, eren pulled completely out of you. you groan from the empty void that was once stuffed full of him.

“nnngh— put it back. s-stop ren’.”

he chuckles at you, slapping his tip all over your clit before pushing your thighs all the way back onto your chest. now, he was directly on top of you, the weight of his body keeping you against the mattress. by the look on his face, he was determined and you knew this position all too well.

mating press. he was fucking you in a mating press.

this was a bit shocking. usually eren avoided this position, claiming that ‘it made him bust too quick’. but with the way you were sucking him in, he wanted nothing more than to paint your fluttering walls white.

“gonna’ take this dick for me right?” he asks, rubbing his tip against your cunt. you wrapped your arms around your knees to keep them against you as you nodded, eyebrows furrowed and lips formed into a cute little pout. eren’s cock twitched as he grabbed ahold of it in his hand, guiding himself in inch by inch until you were completely full.

“oh my fucking god— eren, shit! you exclaim, your moans were almost as loud as the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. his pace was slow, hard, but slow — just how you liked it. the feeling of his veiny cock sliding in and out of you was a feeling you’d never grow tired of.

“this what you wanted? hm, princess? who knew you w-were such a slut?” he asks, voice a bit shaky. you knew he was trying his hardest not to completely fall apart and he looked so good like this — sweat glistening on his skin, his man bun falling apart at the seams and small whimpers escaping his lips that he hoped you didn’t hear — so pretty. so yours.

“you feel so good around me. pussy’s a fuckin’ dream, y/n. i could stay here forever, baby,” he shakes in head in disbelief, eyes traveling down to look at the heaven between your legs. cream formed around the base of his dick and even then— he could feel you getting ready to coat it again.

“r-right there, eren. please, please, don’t stop.”

he hit the same spot over and over again while whispering a breathy, ‘right here?’ that’s when your eyes batted shut, the volcano in your tummy about to erupt— and eren felt it too, both of your orgasms approaching at the same time.

“shit baby, m’ gonna cum. can i cum in you? hm? make you my lil’ cum slut?” he grunts, pieces of his hair falling to to the front of his forehead, the built up sweat making it stick.

“yes! yes, yes, yes. i’m yours, please! fuck— cum in me eren. i wan’ it.”

with a few more thrusts, eren was there and so were you. his strokes became disorganized and his groans gradually got louder as he buried his head into your neck.

“m’ cumming’ y/n— fuck! baby, aah.”

the creamy sound of your cunt milking his cock was the only thing eren heard before he spilled into you. every grunt, moan and whimper filled your ears as you let your head fall back onto the pillow below you, eren still rocking into you to finish you both off. at this point you were too overstimulated to speak a word— your silence concerning him a bit as he came down from his his high, breathing hard while slipping out of you gently.

“was everything okay? i didn’t hurt you did i?” he asks, a look of worry plastered on his handsome face as he rises from the bed to grab his phone, pressing the red ‘end’ button on the screen.

oh right, you were recording.

“you were perfect ren’, like always,” you assure, your eyes slowly closing as you attempt to recover from the last few minutes. you could feel a small kiss on your cheek and a tap on your thigh before hearing the faint sound of your bath tub running. you could’ve sworn you’d fallen asleep until you felt the warmth of wash cloth being rubbed up and down your skin — eren wiping away the mess between your thighs.

“guess we gotta’ try something new more often?” he jokes.

you laugh and peck your boyfriends lips, “i guess we do.”

with that being said, you let your boyfriend scoop you into his arms, finishing the night off by carrying you bridal style to your awaited bath.

#eren x fem!reader #eren yeager smut #eren x black reader #eren x you #aot #i can’t get him out of my mind #saaturnowrites #snk eren #snk

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