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zepskies · 3 months

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Make It Right

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Summary: He didn’t mean to claim you. Not like this. Not before he’s meant to die.

AN: This was requested by this lovely anon. I've written Dean returning from Purgatory, so here is Dean returning from Hell in season 4, but with a twist…my first venture into A/B/O! Sorry if I didn’t get the dynamics quite right, I’m still learning this one. 😘

(@luci-in-trenchcoats Thank you for the encouragement! 💜)

Word Count: 4,300

Warnings: 18+ only! For smut, A/B/O dynamics, angst, mentions of torture, PTSD, and hurt/comfort.

You could’ve wept with relief.

You nearly did. Instead, you shuddered as his tongue swept along the fresh mark near the back of your neck.

A mark that claimed you as his.

Your core still quivered with the aftershocks of how hard you came around his cock, which was still buried deep inside you, locked in place with his knot. Dean nosed at your neck and shoulder as he tried to regain his breath, calm his wildly beating heart.

His skin was dewy against yours, especially where your thighs were hooked around his hips. He held himself above you so he wouldn’t crush you with his weight. You appreciated it, and you soothed up and down his sweat-slick back with grazing fingertips.

Through the newly formed bond, you could feel the frenzied haze of it all begin to clear from his mind, soon replaced by shock, and then, remorse. It made a tremor of worry churn in your belly.

“Dean?” you whispered. Your gaze met his with concern as you grasped his arm.

“What the hell did we just… I shouldn’t have…” His voice was coarse and his eyes filled with upset. “Fuck, this shouldn’t have happened.”

Dismay struck you deep, along with a pain that tore at your heart. Your only consolation was that the two of you were locked in this position, so he couldn’t slip away from you.

“How the hell could you say that to me?” you said. Against your will, your voice trembled. Tears began to sting in your eyes.

Dean faltered. He blew out a breath and reached for your cheek.

“You know why,” he said. His face became edged with desperation. He shifted his thigh and accidentally tugged at the base of his knot. You both groaned at the pain that flared between you, where you were joined.

Dean drew in deep, slower breaths in attempt to calm himself. His eyes shut, and his forehead dropped against yours.

“I’ve barely got three months left on my deal,” he said, through clenched teeth. “This isn’t…it’s not fucking fair to you.”

To you either, you wanted to point out, but you shook your head and held him close by the back of his neck. Your fingers trailed up into his hair, your nails brushing his scalp and eliciting a shudder from him.

Your touch both aroused him and soothed him. Your scent was everywhere, now mingled with his own that now covered you like a blanket. It was intense, and a bit overwhelming to his senses.

But it felt right.

“Don’t talk like you’ve already given up,” you said tersely.

It was with more vehemence than he expected. Dean pulled back a bit, just enough to meet your eyes. Your brows had drawn together, almost in anger. Your lips pulled into a frown.

“We’re going to find a way to break it,” you said. You reached up and held his face. Despite the strength of your words, your hands were gentle. “And I meant what I said, Dean.”

Between lusty sighs and the combined magnetic force of your heat and his rut and emotional tensions at their ultimate breaking point, the whispered words against his neck had come from the very center of you.

“Alpha,” you’d said, through abject need and burgeoning tears as you’d rubbed yourself against him. It was both biology and your heart’s longing. “Dean, I love you. Please…”

The tether of his restraint hadn’t lasted long after that. Because even though he couldn’t respond to you in words, he’d shown you in each and every action of his body molding with yours, wrecking you and claiming you on a dingy motel bed.

You deserve better, Dean thought, looking down on you now. You deserved more than what he had to give.

“I didn’t want to do this to you,” he said coarsely.

And yet, he still heeded the pull of you. Your guiding hands brought him down to your lips. It wasn’t the rough, manic, bruising kiss that had fueled your earlier passions. No, this was slow and warm and tinged with bittersweet.

Dean brushed sweaty strands of your hair away from your face. You held him to you and silently prayed that he wouldn’t let go either.

“I know,” you said. Even though the situation shouldn’t have warranted it, you giggled a little. “That makes you just about the most unselfish Alpha in existence.”

He snorted at that. His eyes took in your face, and further down, to the parts of you that weren’t covered by his body over yours. He let out a breath of defeat.

“No, I’m hella selfish,” he said. His lips quirked. “For better or worse, you’re mine, Omega.”

Your smile grew. “Good. Glad you’re finally caught up.”

Dean’s hand playfully tightened in your hair as he growled. It had little heat though, and you had the audacity to laugh. He shook his head and claimed you with another kiss.

You had to be just about the wiliest Omega in existence.

Dean never gave up.

But he also couldn’t fight off Lilith, or the hellhounds that tore his chest open and spilled his blood on the hardwood floors of some poor family’s suburban house.

You screamed as if your very soul was being ripped apart, along with his skin.

The mark on your neck burned something fierce. It had you clamping a hand down over it as you sunk to your knees next to Sam and cried over Dean’s body, his unseeing eyes. It wasn’t right.

You would never be right again.

It took about a week into your self-isolation. When you finally drew enough strength to get out of bed, you finally noticed it in the mirror—in the bathroom next to Bobby’s guest bedroom.

Your neck looked as if something had burned you. Your eyes widened in horror.

When you touched it, you hissed at the pain. The delicate nerve endings of your mating gland were even more sensitive and raw. Apparently, this was what happened when an Alpha mate died before their Omega.

However, even that pain was nothing compared to what you discovered, two months later.

Your mating gland had healed, and the claim mark was gone entirely.

You sank against the wall, all the way to the floor, and you cried until you were exhausted and frayed. Not even Bobby’s offer of a hot meal and a listening ear could penetrate your grief.

You were ashamed of the way you lost track of Sam after it all went down. You’d descended into yourself, and Bobby had been the only one there to catch you. Sam had forged on by himself, down a spiral of revenge, you were sure.

He wouldn’t come back to Sioux Falls, nor would he tell you where he was when you finally got him on the phone. He claimed he was better off alone as he tried to find a way to save Dean, but there was something off in his voice. Something that told you whatever he was doing was dangerous, and wrong.

“Sam, don’t you dare make a deal,” you demanded, through frustrated and sorrowful tears. “Dean wouldn’t want—”

“Don’t fucking tell me…what Dean would want, okay?” Sam seethed. “If it were me, he wouldn’t stop. If it were you, he wouldn’t stop. So don’t tell me to stop.”

“I’m not telling you to stop!” you shouted back. “I’m telling you not to do something stupid! And I’m asking you to let me help.”

There was a long pause on the line. You tried to calm your labored breathing as you waited for him.

“If you really want to help me, do what you can from Bobby’s. I’ll check in when I can,” he said.

And the line went dead.

Two more months had passed by the time you started to feel the barest hint of yourself again. You’d tried to go on a hunt with Bobby, but you really hadn’t been ready for it. Your head wasn’t in it, and that was how hunters got killed.

So you stayed behind and answered the phones for him. You pretended to be FBI and CIA and Homeland Security for fellow hunters trying to get their hands on police files.

You also helped Bobby with research and reorganized his extensive, and ridiculously chaotic home library. He was the only one you knew who could have A History of Paganism next to a guidebook on Chinese tea ceremonies.

But one night, you decided you were sick of sitting on your ass (and all the dust).

You were finally going out for a drink.

Bobby was locked at home in research for a case. You felt bad about bailing on him, but he insisted you were entitled to go out…

Not that you wanted to meet anyone. However, you did realize that you needed to reconnect with the outside world. You’d been staring at the peeling walls of Bobby’s house for four months now.

So you showered, found a simple black dress from deep in your closet, and started to blow-dry your hair. You didn’t do this often, but if you were going out, then you were going to make an effort.

You paused for a moment when a cramp hit your lower belly. You grimaced and pressed a hand there. A shiver ran down your spine.

Shit, not now, you thought. If this was your heat coming on, you would have to take another suppressant before you went out. You knew blocking your cycle wasn’t that good for you, but you hadn’t felt like dealing with it for the past few months. You just weren’t ready to go through another heat, whether by yourself, or with a stranger.

It…it was too soon.

After the cramping subsided for the moment, you continued drying parts of your hair, sweeping the brush through. With the hairdryer so loud in your ears, you didn’t hear the front door opening, or the resulting shouting and scuffle coming from downstairs.

Eventually, there was quiet. And then, heavy boots climbing up the stairs.

You saw the bathroom door push open out of the corner of your eye. You turned and nearly jumped right out of your skin.

Your scream echoed on the walls when you saw something that looked entirely too much like Dean Winchester.

Hit scent hit you then. Warm and musky, a hint of earthiness and soil, but no less familiar. It struck a blow to your chest and forced you to grip the counter for balance. You clicked off the hairdryer.

The doppelganger raised placating hands, though his wide eyes slowly softened as a smile tugged at his lips.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said.

His deep voice was the same. He looked dirty and disheveled, wearing a familiar gray buttoned down over a black shirt, his usual jeans, and boots. If your memory served, they looked like the clothes he was buried in…

Your hands shook. “Wh…what the hell are you?”

Dean’s smile began to fall.

“Look, I know it’s hard to believe. But I’m me. I’m, uh… I’m back,” he replied. When he tried taking a cautious step forward, you brandished your hairdryer against him—your only feasible weapon.

“You…you back the fuck off!” you snapped. You opened your mouth to shout for Bobby, but before you could, Dean’s trademark smirk took hold of his face.

“What’re you gonna do, blow me to death?” he quipped.

After you broke through a bit of your shock, you spluttered with laughter. And then tears.

Dean’s lips quirked, but he moved towards you in slow steps. He took the hairdryer from you and set it down on the counter. With a slightly shaking hand, he touched your cheek. You closed your eyes for a moment, sucked in a breath, and inadvertently inhaled his scent once again.

Your heart pounded almost painfully in your chest. Your fingers curled into the front of his shirt. You realized it then. You didn’t need silver or holy water to prove it was him. You knew.

Your eyes opened and met his.

“Dean,” you uttered, brokenly.

He couldn’t fucking take it anymore. Dean pulled you into him by your waist. He held you as you shuddered and cried into his chest. His hand clenched in your hair, while the other pressed into the small of your back. It anchored him, and trapped you in the cage of his arms.

He buried his nose into your neck and had to squeeze his eyes shut past a telltale burn in his eyes. Your name fell from his lips, both longing and reverent. Your hold on him tightened.

His lips brushed against your mating gland, igniting sensitive nerve endings and making a tremble run down your spine.

“Alpha,” you whispered.

Dean’s insides clenched in response. He ached for you, just like he had soon after he’d been able to free himself from that pine box in the middle of nowhere. But his brows furrowed.

He pulled back from you, just so he could brush the bare skin along your neck with a gentle thumb.

“What happened to the mark?” he asked. He realized that he couldn’t feel you, not like before. And even your scent was different…like you’d never been claimed by him. Like you weren’t his. That realization hit him like a sucker punch to his stomach.

You frowned and leaned back so you could meet Dean’s eyes. It took you a moment to find your voice, and even when you did, it was uncharacteristically small.

“After…after what happened, it burned like holy hell,” you confessed. Your hands travelled down his chest, clinging to the open edges of his shirt. “Then it was a scar. Then, it was just…nothing. It was gone.”

Fresh tears burgeoned in your eyes. They spilled down your cheeks as your frame shook with a sob, but Dean gathered you back into his arms. As shitty as it was, he started to think this was actually for the better…

“What happened, Dean? How are you here?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Haven’t figured that part out just yet…but something broke me out.”

He knew it wasn’t you who made a deal. Your shock was too real to be an act. He knew, however, that he needed to find Sam.

That could wait though. Dean’s gaze roamed your face. He wiped away the remnants of tears from your cheeks, brushed his thumb across your lower lip. Your eyes met his. He saw your heartbreak begin to fade—into a desire that called to his own. Despite the voice inside that warned him to hold back, he just couldn’t help himself.

When he finally leaned in to kiss you, it felt like coming home. You held his face in your hands and rose up on your toes to meet him. His arms wrapped around your waist and brought you flush against him, but it wasn’t enough.

Kisses became more frantic, with labored breaths and hands moving to remove each other’s clothing. Your sexy little black dress fell to the floor, along with your bra and panties and the rest of his clothes.

“You’re filthy,” you laughed, between the sloppy meeting of your lips with his.

Dean’s response was to peel back the shower curtain behind you and turn on the shower head, as hot as it could go. A growl sounded low in his throat before he bodily hefted you along with him into the shower and under the spray.

For a moment, he let the scalding water beat down on him. You grabbed the soap and drew it over his neck, chest, and shoulders. The suds trickled down his body, washing away the grime of the road, and whatever else he hadn't been able to wipe off after escaping his grave.

He blinked water out of his eyes as he took in the sight of your concentrated face, and your gentle hands washing him. Then the rest of your body, your curves that fit so well in his hands, your breasts that heaved along with your heavier breathing, nipples hard and aching to be touched.

Dean took the soap from your hands and put it back on the dish, shortly before he pinned you against the cold bathroom tile. He ravaged you with lips, teeth, and tongue along your neck, down your chest, and over your breasts. You moaned and held him to you.

You didn't care that your hair was getting soaked all over again. Your fingers ran through his now wet hair as he touched you and drew pleasure from your body.

Your lower belly was beginning to cramp in earnest now, and resonating deep inside you with heat. You felt a flood of slick forming between your legs as your core pulsed with need.

Your scent hit him in a powerful wave, nearly making Dean falter as his eyes rolled shut.

“Fuck. You’re in heat, Omega,” he choked out.

You nodded, though you had to fist a hand in his hair when you felt his fingers between your legs. They swiped between your drenched folds, gathering some slick and circling around your clit. You moaned loudly and arched against his hand. The back of your head pressed into the wall.

“Alpha,” you said. A whine sounded in your throat as Dean’s touch firmed in response. His thumb pressed and massaged your clit while two fingers slipped deep inside your tight channel.

A shiver ran down Dean’s spine, along with your nails grazing down his back. Already he was painfully hard for you. He had a suspicious feeling that your heat was triggering his rut, because he was becoming desperate to be inside you. His whole body felt tingling and alive, and charged with need.

His lips sucked hard on those sensitive nerves between your neck and shoulder, making you gasp. Your inner walls fluttered around his fingers.

“That’s it, Omega. Want you to come just like this before I fill you up,” he muttered. He earned your vocal agreement in response.

But then it hit him.

Flashes of memory. Darkness and blood. Agony tearing at his skin and insides.

And then, inflicting it himself, on other souls just as damned as him.

Your moan of release just barely managed to pull him out of his own mind. He felt your wetness coat his hand. Goddamn.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised. And yet, while his body caged yours against the wall, he couldn’t force himself to continue. He couldn’t back off either. He was fighting every instinct in his body that demanded he take you, right here and now.

“Dean?” you asked, sensing his hesitation. You cupped his cheek, but he didn’t want to look at you.

“I can’t,” he ground out.

Your eyes widened as shock and dismay threatened to overtake you. “What?”

Dean’s eyes closed. He was trembling with the force of both his need, and his restraint.

With a frown of concern, you wrapped a thigh around his hip, but he wouldn’t heed your attempt to bring him closer.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. No, you demanded to know. Because your body was quaking with desire as well. You needed his knot, and you wanted nothing more than for him to make this right—to claim you as his.

But Dean looked like he was in pain. He winced and pressed a fist against the wall by your head. He pressed his forehead against it.

You tried to comfort him with your hands soothing over his shoulders. There you finally caught sight of a mark on his right shoulder. It looked like a burn…a handprint. Your eyes widened with a small gasp.

He followed your gaze, but he eventually looked away with a frown. It was like he didn’t even want to acknowledge it, even if he didn’t know what it was. Whatever had hauled him out of Hell, he doubted it was anything good.

“I’m, uh…” He breathed raggedly through his nose. “I’m not…the same.”

You had a feeling it was very difficult for him to admit that.

Four months.

That was how long he’d been lost to you. That was how long he’d been in Hell. You couldn’t even imagine…

You swallowed past a lump of sorrow, but you weren’t deterred. You grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“You were my Alpha long before you claimed me,” you told him.

That affected Dean, probably more than you knew. He still shook his head though.

“It’s not right, Omega,” he said, even as his voice trembled. You don’t have a fuckin’ clue… You don’t know what I’ve turned into.

The water from the shower head was growing cold, but you’d never been hotter. The cramps were starting up again in earnest, making your teeth clench at the combination of pain and incredible arousal.

“I need you,” you said, through frustration, heat, and emotion all at once. “I would never leave you like this. I would never leave you.”

His eyes closed again, briefly. His breath came out harshly through his nose when you touched his cheek. Your touch was gentle, but it still ignited his skin and made every muscle in his body coil tight with strain.

It was hard to sort through the base instincts that were on the verge of taking over his mind, and then his body. Deep down though, Dean knew you were right. He knew you would never leave him. And that was kind of the problem.

“Alpha, please,” you said, through your own strain. Again, you took his face in your hands and shook him. It drew his gaze to your face. Your beautiful face that he’d seen over and over in the Pit, used as his own personal form of torture.

His whole body trembled.

You saw his distress, and it pierced your heart. You leaned up and brushed your wet cheek against his, while your fingers slipped into his hair in comfort.

“You’re here. You’re alive,” you said. “And you’re here with me.”

You nuzzled your way down his neck and pressed your lips to his mating gland, making him shiver for a whole different reason. You pressed your body against his and kissed, licked, and sucked at his skin.

“Omega,” he warned, but the growl in his throat was more pleased than warning. He felt your nails graze down his chest and sternum, and soon enough your hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

He sucked in a breath and pressed his face into your neck. His lips ventured tantalizingly close to the place you wanted him the most, and all the while you stroked him along sensitive flesh. Your thumb circled around his knot, and the dripping head.

“I know you need me too,” you said. You could smell his rut. Your lips edged at a smirk, and you decided to bluff. “But if you won’t make me yours, maybe I’ll find another Alpha who will.”

It didn’t take long before a vice grip closed around your wrist. Dean’s irises were rimmed with black when he met your gaze, half consumed by the Alpha as he pinned you harder against the wall. He grabbed your thigh and hooked it around his hip. And with the other hand he guided his cock to push into you and stretch your inner walls, inch by inch.

You both moaned in relief when he was firmly seated inside you. Your core throbbed around him in a spasm of pleasure. You cried out and rolled your head back against the wall, your nails sinking into his shoulders.

“Alpha,” you shuddered.

“I got you, Omega,” he ground out, just barely holding onto the tethers of himself. His fingers coiled tight into your wet hair and began to pound into you, a rough clip that had you gasping, toes curling as you arched against him.

His lips found your throat and laid a nipping kiss there. All you could do was hold on desperately. You knew he was close when his thrusts grew ragged, when it became harder for him to push into you with the swell of his knot forming. But it wasn’t until his fingers slipped between your joined bodies and circled more insistently over your clit that you came along with him, hard on his throbbing cock.

His teeth sunk into your neck, creating a newly forged bond through a haze of pain and pleasure. You cried out again at the force of it all—the sensations were nearly overwhelming, even more so than it had been the first time he claimed you.

And Dean nearly slipped in the tub.

“Fuck!” He managed to catch himself on the soap dish and the adjoining wall while you grabbed his arms steady. Shit, that really could’ve been disastrous, considering you two were now locked in place.

He glanced down at you. Through wide eyes and panting breaths, you broke first with a giggle. Dean’s lips curved with a smile. Soon enough, he was chuckling too.

The black around his irises receded, and he held you more gently and secure against the wall. After licking the line of blood clean from your neck with a slow, sensuous tongue, he brushed your wet hair back from your face. Then he turned off the frigid shower.

“We really shouldn’t have done this in here. Shit,” he said with a laugh. How were you two supposed to get to your bed? Or at least get dry.

You giggled harder and dropped your forehead against his chest.

“It’s okay,” you said teasingly. “I think this is worth catching pneumonia over.”

Dean shook his head at your antics, but he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. Smiling bright, you leaned up just enough to reach his lips. Your kiss was slow and tender; a release of your grief, a grateful thank you, and a reminder all at once.

“I love you,” you whispered. “That’s all that matters. We’ll deal with the rest afterwards.”

Dean expelled a long breath. He nodded after a moment, conceding defeat.

“I love you too,” he admitted. And he meant it, down to his bones.

He knew that afterwards wouldn’t be as easy as you seemed to think, but there was no turning back now.

You were his.

AN: And there we have it! lol This was definitely a fun challenge. I might like to try my hand at A/B/O dynamics again in the future, but let me know what you think of this one. 😘💜

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lovemouche · 3 months

Text

lovesick all over my bed ౨ৎ

satoru x fem reader

18+ / mdni

It was never meant to end up like this.

Satoru had stated the boundary of no strings attached prior to entangling himself with you — metaphorically and, quite literally too. The relationship was meant to start and end with physicality only. That was the one rule he made sure to implement for himself. That was where he drew the line.

"Y-yes. right there. Please."

And yet, these days, he's been finding himself caught in the cavern of a predicament, worn down to the point where he can't think of much, besides tangled limbs and open mouthed kisses, hot and wet as he'd breathe heavily against your form. Worn down to the point where he can't think of anything else besides you.

Even now, as you lay underneath him, needy and bare, shaped like a deity, challenging the outline of divinity, he's still thinking of you. Always.

And it's driving him crazy, consuming every waking thought of his. Because he just doesn't know how it all led up to this. Satoru can't fathom how an inkling of affection he dismissed as nothing more than a momentary impulse burgeoned into something more profound. Into something so alarming. Into—

No.

No. No. No.

No. He doesn't want to name the emotion just yet. He can't. Labelling it just solidifies his fear into truth, and the prospect that the feeling blossoming inside his chest aligns with what he’d dreaded feeling the most crosses every boundary he had set for himself.

Love, the most twisted curse of all.

"Ah, Satoru—"

The call of his name drags him out of his reverie. It's whispered softly against his skin, flushed as he clings to you desperately, secure enough to hold you in place, but never too much to hurt you.

"Yeah?" he asks tentatively, his movements being put to a pause. After loosening his grip around your body, he shifts the bend of legs on the mattress to keep his weight from overwhelming you. "You okay, princess?"

His hand travels from the curve of your waist to trace the outline of your jaw, carefully and, much too lovingly for someone who's only meant to use you for emotional release. "Does anything hurt?" he asks, thumbing the apple of your cheek with gentle strokes, noticing how you shiver under the touch.

You shake your head, but it's not enough to convince him otherwise; the lack of a verbal response only has his mind flooding with concern even more, especially because you've never stopped him mid-sex. Not once in the entire seven months of your arrangement.

"Talk to me," he encourages.

Instinctively, you lay your hand on top of the one toying with your cheek, your fingertips lightly rubbing at his knuckles in an attempt to calm him down. Satoru feels his chest constrict. It's not a big gesture, he knows. But it feels so intimate—so sweet.

Anyone would assume he would've gotten used to it by now, but even with familiarity and time, everything you do only seems to make his heart race even more.

He's grateful the dim lights don't manage to catch the flush beginning to spread throughout his features, but he's certain you can feel the way his cock hardens inside you, even if you don't comment on it—which he's also grateful for.

God, he's hopeless.

The control you have over him is dangerous, he realizes. Part of him wants to pull away before any damage can be done. But the other, bigger part welcomes the peril with open arms.

"It's just..." you trail off, letting out a sigh of frustration as you try to find the right words.

"Should I pull out?"

"No," you huff, tone authoritative. Out of reflex, your legs tighten around him, thighs caging his waist to keep him in place—because you definitely don't want him to pull out. Not with how good he's filling you up right now. "Just... shut up for now."

Satoru acquiesces to your request. Despite his reservations, he nods, albeit a bit reluctantly, and makes a testament to his obedience by pretending to zip his mouth up with pinched fingers.

"You just... seem a little out of it nowadays, like you're distracted. So I wanted to know if you were okay."

You take a brief pause. Satoru waits with bated breath.

"We're friends too, you know? You can talk to me about these things. It doesn't always have to be sex," you add softly, probing gently to gauge the situation while making sure to leave enough room for him to make the decision to open up. Because really, he doesn't owe you any explanation.

He doesn't owe you anything at all.

Satoru feels his heart swell, pressing up against his sternum, too big for his chest—everything he feels for you is too much for him to carry.

I know, he thinks bitterly to himself. That's the problem. I don't want to be your friend anymore.

But he doesn't want to lose you either, and he knows that if he let the dam break, if he let loose every emotion he's been struggling to keep at bay, he'd only ruin everything.

He'd lose you. And he'd lose himself in the process.

So Satoru parries your question with ease, because honesty isn't his forte—both towards you and himself.

"Nothing's wrong," he insists, raising an arm to pin your hand up against the bedsheet, intertwining your fingers with his. "Don't worry."

Resting his forehead on top of your sweat kissed one, he resumes his movements languidly. "Just...just focus on how good I'm making you feel, o—oh—okay?"

He trips on his words at the sensation of being sucked in and out of your sweet cunt, and he prays—god, he prays—that the feeling of being inside you is enough to compensate for not having you entirely, even if just for a moment.

But it's not enough, and Satoru can't help but feel that it never will be.

He slides in and out of you, his desire heavy. And you moan in response, chest rising from the laboured breaths that follow each sinful thrust, hips gyrating automatically to match his pace.

And it feels good. It feels so fucking good. But the pleasure isn't enough to cloud his senses and dispel his anxiety. Because he's looking at you and his heart is already tugging at its seams. And Satoru feels helpless.

And he's not sure what it is—if it's the high that ensues being wrapped around your tight walls, or the way you fit so perfectly against him, as if you were made to be held by him, as if he was made just to hold you—but something about tonight has him desperate for more than just late night messages that lead to loveless fucking.

Something about tonight has him desperate for all of you. Mind and body, heart and soul.

The notion is heady, and the revelation steals his breath. It roots itself inside his chest and demands his attention, aching to be acknowledged.

He's so caught up in his head, so lost in thought that he doesn't even register the fact that his movements have been put to a halt and his cock has stilled inside you. Not until you press a shaky palm to his chest in worry.

"Hey," you breathe out. "What's wrong?"

Satoru has to bite his tongue to refrain from telling you that: everything is. There are so many things he wants to tell you, but he's scared it'll poison every next moment. He's scared he'll lose you in the only way he knows he can have you.

Everything is wrong, he wants to say.

Instead, he stays quiet.

There an ugly feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach. He wants, so badly, to say something—anything. But he can't. The only reaction he can offer you is the widening of eyes, and his mouth parting in shock before his lips purse into a disappointed frown.

Being in... fuck he'll name it. Being in love shouldn't indemnify him from acting like an idiot, but love has a way of blurring all reason, all rationality.

He waits for you to speak again, unwilling to break the silence himself—too afraid of what might follow, too afraid that you've already seen right through him.

And he feels pathetic, of course, for being reduced to such a scattered mess, because he's supposed to be the strongest. And for the most part, he is. He really is. But when it comes to you, he can't seem to live up to that title. When it comes to you, he can't seem to be anything else but yours.

The yearning—to mean something more to you, to be everything to you—settles in his bones. It's draining his soul. He's standing on the edge of a cliff, left to teeter somewhere in between unbridled emotion and self restraint. It's a precarious position to be placed in, and he's hanging by a mere thread.

Seconds stretch into what feels like an eternity. The air feels like it's heavy with impending demise, and the silence engulfs him like black tar. It's suffocating, to say the least. Satoru isn't sure if he wants to prolong the moment or get it over with. He feels his heart pound against his chest—that treacherous thing.

So when you finally say something, he breaks.

"Satoru, what's wrong?"

He falls apart.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, voice timid and exceptionally apologetic, head hanging low in refusal to meet your eyes. The sight of him is pitiful; you can't, for the life of you, understand why.

It's strange seeing Satoru in such a vulnerable state. Not because you don't assume he doesn't have his own baggage to carry, but because you never thought he'd be willing to expose this side of himself to you.

It's everything out of the ordinary, like witnessing god crumble at your feet, or having an executioner beg to be pardoned for all his killings.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. Only this time, it feels more resigned, like he's admitting defeat. It almost feels like he's apologising to you. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

But how could that be? and why would it ever be?

"What? Sat—ah."

Satoru falls slack on top of you, pressing the weight of his body against yours. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, chin moving to rest on your shoulder as he evades your gaze. You feel his hands travel south as he continues whispering a mantra of apologies into your skin.

It's a vain endeavour, trying to lift yourself up to get him to talk to you properly. The grip on your hip keeps you anchored, leaving you no room for anything other than compliance; it's as if he's scared you'll leave if he lets go even for a second.

And honestly, he is.

"Satoru. Don't be like this please."

"I'm sorry," is all he says.

"Satoru, look at—"

"No."

"Look at me."

"I'm an idiot."

"No," you interject. "You are not."

"But I am." It's muffled, his voice. A Little shaky too. "I know I'm an idiot, so don't," he pleads. "Don't look at me. I don't want you to see me right now. I can't."

"You need to tell me what's wrong."

"You're going to hate me. I'm going to ruin everything."

"How?"

"I'm sorry."

"Satoru."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his grip on you tightening, fingernails digging soft crescents into your skin. "I'm sorry; I got too greedy."

Your eyebrows pinch.

Satoru can practically feel your confusion, and he wants to die, because you don't get it. You just don't get it. Not at all. Not one bit. Not until he whispers five words that knock all the air out of your lungs:

I love you. I'm sorry.

There's a pregnant pause, hesitant, unsure. And then:

"Wha—what? No. You—you're lying."

Satoru shakes his head in disagreement, vehemently refusing your claim.

Lying? How could he ever lie about such a thing? He could feign indifference at most, try to brush past it and let the feeling linger until it subsides. But he can't, and it hasn't, and he's tired of pretending that he doesn't love you anymore. Because he does. He loves you too much to push those feelings away.

"It's true," he admits. "I—I tried not to... you know? I tried not to—fuck, I'm sorry."

The confession should have lifted the burden, or at the very least, eased it. But his lips struggle to form words, and his heart ricochets against his ribcage.

"Look at me," you implore.

"No."

He's certain you must hate him now. That by tomorrow, or tonight even, he'll leave the place—the person—he's associated with home as nothing more than a stranger.

Even worse, a mistake.

"Please?"

But your arms crawl to wrap around his torso, and your legs squeeze around his own in silent reassurance, like you're trying to convey to him that you're not going anywhere. And if that isn't enough to convince him to listen, Satoru doesn't know what is.

When he finally raises his head, your eyes linger on the contours of his face, studying his crestfallen expression. He's anguished, that's for sure. You just can't wrap your head around the fact that it's probably you who's causing his misery.

Because Satoru is... well, Satoru—he's the strongest.

So who are you to be able to wreck him this much?

"Do you..." you swallow, still unconvinced, words quieting down to a whisper. "Do you really love me?"

Without looking at you, Satoru nods. it's not enough of an answer, though.

"Tell me, please."

He lets out a slow, shuddering exhale, chest stuttering on his next breath. He's silent for a few seconds, thinking. Until finally, with a slight crack to his voice, he says. "I do." very tremulously. "I love you."

Which is painful to admit, because he doesn't even know what to do now that it's been said. Satoru's not sure how he can give you something he's never been shown. He's not even sure if he deserves it, or if you'll even want his affection.

But there's so much of it, so much love growing in his chest that he fears it'll crack his ribs. So he's willing to try, even if it might ruin him in the process,

He's willing to do anything, so long as it's for you.

It's as simple as that, really.

"You're lying. I—you can't be serious."

Well, maybe not really.

"I am." Satoru nods pathetically, like a wounded puppy, like his heart is in tatters because you can't believe him even after he's laid himself so embarrassingly bare like this. "I love you."

"But you said—"

"I know," Satoru interrupts, and his lips are bowed. "I know. I'm a hypocrite. I got too selfish. But I can't help it anymore, I'm sorry. I love you too much to push these feelings away."

Satoru feels every muscle in your body go stiff at the admission. You're rendered speechless, once again; hesitant in your words, even more so in your actions. And he feels like he's made a grave mistake, that right then and there, he's ruined everything—he's lost you.

But then the right corner of your mouth quirks, hinting at the faintest of smiles, and an obtrusive feeling of hope sparks within him, fizzling out his nerves like cheap soda.

"Why would you be sorry?" you scold, flicking his forehead. "The only thing you should be sorry about is worrying me. Do you know how scared I was seeing you go MIA while you were still inside me?"

"I'm still inside," he reminds you.

You groan. "this is not the time."

"I know." He frowns, but the tension from earlier is nowhere to be found, and Satoru feels even more at ease now that you've begun playing with his hair, twirling the strands between your fingers. "I'm sorry. I don't really know what else to say."

"You don't need to say anything else."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You aren't upset or anything?"

"Why would I be?"

"I don't know." He lowers his head to rest on top of your chest, all watery and emotional, pressing his cheek just above where your heart lies to find solace in the rhythmic pitter patter of beats. "I just expected you'd be mad or... disappointed, you know?"

"Well I'm not, so don't worry about anything, okay?"

"Okay," he hums.

You don't say anything after that. Neither does he. It's quiet for a while, and you take the time to think while basking in the afterglow of such a raw moment.

It's all still so surreal.

You feel like the universe is playing a prank on you, like Satoru's orchestrating a sick, cruel joke to mess with your system. But you're cradling his head in your hand, lovingly tracing arbitrary shapes on his scalp, and you swear you can hear how fast his heart is racing.

It's in tandem with yours.

And perhaps, that's all that matters.

Maybe you were an idiot not to have realised it sooner. Maybe you were just in denial too. But it's as clear as day now, and you really can't deny the fact that it has always felt like you and Satoru were made for each other. Because when you take his hand into yours, and it feels like the spaces between your fingers were shaped just to hold him like this, you're certain that it's always been more than just sex.

"Satoru?"

"Yeah?"

"Me too."

He gives you a quizzical look. You smile.

"I love you too."

#writing #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #gojo smut

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goosita · 3 months

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no no billy taking you out on his horse and showing you the reigns but it’s a bit hard to concentrate with him and his wandering hands pushed up behind you

oh my god you don't understand this is peak romantic fantasy for me on GOD

riding around out in the fields with billy because he has a day to himself, and he wants to spend it with you.

and we all know billy loves his horse, and he's so good at riding the animal and taming it. he asks if you wanna go out with him for a ride and you're reluctant at first. of course, this is the wild west. lots of people know how to ride horses, it's a huge mode of transportation. but...you had never spent that much time around them. you lived in town and didn't tend to stray from there, and your interactions with the animals were mostly limited to carriage rides where someone else was in control.

"c'mon angel, it'll be fun. promise," he says, giving you those imploring blue eyes all round and wide. you agreed, knowing that billy would never let anything happen to you. not that you were scared. just a little uneasy, is all.

but then the afternoon comes and he's got you sat comfortably right in front of him in the saddle. his chest is warm and solid against your back, your bum is settled nicely in the cradle of his hips and his thighs, keeping you right there against him. your hands rest on the saddle horn while his arms are resting around your waist, holding the reins.

lady, his horse, wanders around where he guides her. she's a pretty horse, white with speckles and she's very calm. you can tell that her and billy have a quiet kind of trust between them.

"see?" he grins, leaning his head down to peck your cheek. "not so bad, is it?"

and it's not. it's not bad at all, really. you can tell your thighs might be a little sore later from the unconscious way you're clenching them to feel balanced, but this is actually kinda nice. the sun is perched in the middle of the sky, warming the fields and your skin. bugs and wildlife are buzzing around you as you ride, and billy seems so relaxed and content behind you.

"you wanna take the reins for a bit?" he asks, patting your thigh and giving it an affectionate squeeze. he likes to do that, give you these little pets and caresses sometimes. just because he can.

"oh...um....i don't really know-"

"nonsense, it's easy. here." he cuts you off gently, placing the leather reins in your hands. he explains to you what actions the horse will take as cues, and you don't dare do anything but encourage the animal to keep on moseying forward like she had been. billy chuckles softly at your hesitance, but he doesn't make fun. he lets you do what you're comfortable with.

you try to focus on directing lady where you want her to go, but it starts to get harder when billy's hands slide up and down your outer thighs slowly. you know he's probably not trying to distract you or rile you up, but you can't help the way your body and mind react to his touch.

billy rests his chin on your shoulder and hums, some silly little folk tune he must have stuck in his head. you can feel the vibrations of his voice against your back and it makes your tummy flutter with butterflies. no matter how long you and billy have been together, even little things like this make your heart stutter like a lovesick teen with a crush.

"you're doin' great, honey," he murmurs, and you can feel his smile against your cheek where he still rests over your shoulder. it makes you feel better, the praise. you like it when he praises you, even for little things like this.

his hands begin to wander, though, and you're not sure you can stay focused on controlling lady. billy brings his hands up to your hips, his fingers dipping into the waistband of the pants he'd loaned you to ride in. it's not inherently sexual, the way he's touching you. a little intimate to be touched out in the open like this, a little against decorum, but you're alone out here anyway. he strokes your skin softly, adoringly, like he just wants to feel you under his fingertips. as much as you like it, it's too distracting.

"here," you blurt, handing him the reins back. "can't think straight with you around." it comes out more playful than scolding, though, and billy chuckles.

"alright. whatever you want, angel," he tells you, pressing another kiss to your cheek before taking over again.

let's talk about billy, baby!

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid x you #tom blyth #billy the kid fluff #william h bonney #tom blyth billy the kid

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soullessdianthus · 7 months

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𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐨 "𝐑𝐮𝐝𝐲" 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚

A/N: Just some glimpse of life with your husband Rudy. I want to be his little spoon so bad, I'm always cold during the night. (╯▽╰ )

Warnings: nothing just lil' smut at the end (gentle sex, lotus), generally fluff

✧°. Definitely has a wife younger than him, because only recently he had begun thinking about settling down with someone. I personally believe that it wouldn’t be a person in their early twenties – someone who still studies and goes to parties. That would not feel right to Rudy, as he wants to start a family in the near future.

✧°. But on the other hand, let’s think about him being with someone much younger, in their early twenties for example – someone more vulnerable and in his opinion naive even to engage with someone like him. Rudy would be probably more protective and dominant in the relationship, trying to keep an eye on you all the time. He would protect his pretty baby girl at all costs. <3

✧°. He’s an absolute sweetheart and will take great care of you – spoiling his wife with massages, gifts or some romantic dates. He embraces love through the acts of service, quality time and words of affirmation. However, you cannot find a happier man on the planet than Rodolfo, when you wear clothes or jewelry he has picked out for you.

The bathroom was filled with the scent of your flower body wash as the two of you were sitting in a tub filled with warm water and bubbles. Your back was leaning against Rudy’s chest, sitting between his legs. You had no idea how exactly the two of you managed to squeeze in there. Rodolfo’s fingers were rubbing the scalp of your head, causing you to keep your eyes closed, taking in the relaxation with your husband. It felt so nice, you almost fell asleep right there in the tub. ━ Do you feel better, amor? To which you only hummed, drowning in the pleasant feeling spreading through your head that was aching for the whole day. Perhaps it was his magic touch working wonders.

✧°. He will show you off each time Alejandro visits him. Rudy encourages you to sit on your husband’s lap and spend some time with his best friend. His hands will hold firmly, but hot harshly onto your thighs or hips – this is how he shows his possessiveness over you. <3

✧°. Rodolfo is an excellent cook so therefore you often spend time in the kitchen together. Additionally, eating meals with each other is very important to Mr. Parra. I think he really likes to hum while doing house chores.

✧°. I can see him with a wife that has a feisty temperament that constantly worries about him and sets the ground rules he willingly follows – like eastern europeans, hispanics or latinas. Because our boy Rudy is the calmest man on planet Earth, he could calm you down better than anyone.

✧°. If somehow he managed to piss you off, you wouldn’t let him brush it off or keep silent, oh no.

One time when Alejandro came by your house to pick up Rudy, he saw (and heard) the two of you arguing (rather you scolding him loudly), which doesn’t happen often, he was slightly taken aback. A colonel of Los Vaqueros wouldn’t even try getting under your skin. Ever. ━ Cristo, how do you tame her? She’s a spitfire, hermano. ━ Alejandro asked, when his best friend got in the passenger seat. ━ In bedroom. When she cools off a little. Your husband’s reply made Alejandro smirk stupidly, before he shook his head. But Rodolfo was absolutely serious at that moment – he meant it.

✧°. Rudy could be a real tease and despite the common misconception about him being almost too soft and cautious during sex – your husband was able to fuck you to sleep or until you were breathless and sweaty underneath him.

He just returned home from the base. The clock hanging on the living room wall pointed at 1:27 in the morning. Mierda, he was supposed to be back earlier, but the meeting was prolonged. Rodolfo took off his gray jacket and shoes, before slowly making his way towards your shared bedroom. The room was illuminated only by the night lamp on his side of the bed – you must have left it on for him to find the way to bed. Oh, but you really didn’t have to. He would always find the way back to the love of his life. You were sleeping peacefully between the sheets, wearing a nightgown he had recently bought you – it was his favorite color. The hem of the dress rolled up over your hip, exposing some flushed skin and underwear. Rudy knew he shouldn’t do what he was about to, but the mere sight of his beloved, pretty wife splayed like this seemed to be too good to be true. Each time the intimacy felt like it was your first time together, exciting him like a teenage boy in love. He removed his clothes and kneeled on the mattress beside you. His fingers traced the outline of your arm, ribcage, waistline and then your displayed hip. His thumb and pointing finger slid beneath the elastic of your panties and slowly pulled it upwards, detaching it from your skin. Only when the material got really tight and taunted, he released the band of your underwear. A sudden sting on your skin, caused you to wake up with a loud gasp. But your husband was right there, leaning above your sleepy form, already placing kisses all over your face, neck and shoulder. ━ Rudy. ━ You purred through the sleepy haze, slowly turning on your back to face him. ━ Lamento llegar tarde, cariño [sp.: Sorry, I’m late, darling]. His strong hands slipped under your shoulders and lifted you off the mattress. You let him maneuver yourself until he placed you in his lap, sitting in a lotus position. You wrapped your hands around his neck, thumb caressing his occiput. ━ I missed you. ━ I know, I’m sorry, baby. But I’m here now. ━ The sergeant clung to your mouth like a leech and forced his tongue inside. The wet and warm sensation sent an electrifying desire pooled in your stomach. You moaned into his mouth, eagerly rolling your hips against his, searching for some friction. Rodolfo moved your panties to the side, before slowly sinking his hardened length in. A sudden stretch made you whimper and straighten your spine in his hold. Yet, you felt safe, he would never hurt you or cross your boundaries. His hands run up your ribs, until his thumbs could caress the curves of your breasts. Rudy shushed you, before slowly thrusting into you with steady pace. You looked at him through the shaky movements that caused you to rise and fall onto him. Despite the fastened heartbeat and heavy breathing, an overwhelming sense of home and belonging washed over you. As long as you were in his arms, you were being loved and kept safe. The arms of your loving husband.

#reader insert #cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #rodolfo parra #rodolfo parra x reader #rodolfo rudy parra #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #rudy x reader #rodolfo cod #rudy parra #rudy cod

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judasgot-it · 2 months

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String Me By My Sins, So I Can Be Clean

Scenario: You found out. Yandere!Fyodor x Reader. Part 1 Word count: 1.2 K @ceramic-raven because you encouraged me to write a part 2. I hope you don't mind being tagged <3

Sitting in your small bathroom, you stared at a small patch that stared back at you.

21 mg. Nicotine. A beige-colored patch.

Just a minute ago, it had been adhered to your skin while you were sleeping, as if you had put it on yourself.

You don't smoke. You never smoked.

The only person you knew to smoke was Nikolai or Fukuchi, but you didn't know them to use patches. They only smoked socially, on good days when they could people watch or when Nikolai could show off vape tricks.

Fyodor had never dared to touch a cigarette, always claiming it as a hazard to his health. His lungs were probably as weak as the rest of his constitution, so you believed it.

So why the hell was it on your skin?

You wanted to ask him yourself, but he was sleeping.

Was it a good idea to wake him up?

You looked out into the darkness of your shared bed with Fyodor, looking at his sleeping form. His small frame was curled in a pile of blankets, curled against a feather pillow - like the princess and the pea, as you could see that he never looked truly comfortable.

The patch could be left for the morning.

He was smart. It must have had some sort of reasoning, shouldn't it?

Fyodor always found things out with almost no context needed. He could figure out the reason. You trusted him.

You had gone back to the bathroom. The patch was missing.

The trash, for once, taken out. In fact, it seemed the whole apartment had been meticulously cleaned.

You remembered that patch stared at you. The pain of removing it from your skin. How hard you had to pull it from your skin.

So where did it fucking go?

"Hey babe!"

You called for Fyodor, knowing that he was most likely working on the same projects that he always was. Whatever it was, he would be able to answer you, right?

There was no response from him this time though. You called again, but you were left with silence.

Padding towards his 'office space' you found that he had his headphones on. Was he busy today and hadn't bothered to tell you beforehand? Usually, he was rather meticulous about that.

Gently, you poked his shoulder, hoping to get his attention.

Fyodor only grunted, giving a sign of recognition. You tried again, hoping he would respond.

"Are you busy? I wanted to talk to you about something that happened last night."

Fyodor turned only slightly, his eyes still facing his screen - absorbed on whatever 'work' was on his screen. Code that you never bothered to learn to understand, that became a source of frustration as it seemed more important now.

"Yeah, what is it?"

Complete disinterest.

"I found like. A nicotine patch, last night. On me. Fyodor, that's weird, right?"

His eyes finally looked at you, although they were only glancing, at best.

"It is. You don't smoke, do you?"

"What?"

You took a moment to look at him. What the hell was he implying by that? He knew you never did. You always rejected them, since he was so sensitive to smells.

"If you do, you can tell me. I won't judge you."

His voice was soft, unjudgemental at the implication of you even having an addiction. You tried to keep calm through you frustration.

"I don't smoke. You know I don't, asshole! It's really weird that it showed up on my body like that, isn't it?"

You hoped he would help you. But he didn't even seem to care about your predicament so far, instead lazily moving typing commands on his keyboard like a sort of wizard.

"It is weird. If neither of us smoke, then how did it get there, hm? Maybe someone is playing a prank on you. Do you have the patch? We can figure out more about it from there."

He had leaned back, as calm about this conversation as anyone could possibly be. You wanted to kill him.

"It was on the bathroom counter when I took it off last night. I can't find it though!"

You couldn't help raising your voice at the end. For some reason, your frustration was building up so easily it was nearly boiling over.

It wasn't fair to take it out on Fyodor. He gave you a look as well, because well, you knew that you were being emotional about this.

It was just weird. Why was this upsetting you so much? You weren't usually upset so quickly like this.

"Sorry. But I'm being serious Fyo."

Trying your best to calm down, you took a deep inhale. Your lungs filled with air, clearing your head, if only a little.

There was still a frustration coursing through your veins, making you want to pull at Fyodor's hair for being so...well, him. Just being himself, right now.

Is he doing it on fucking purpose? Is he trying to piss you off as much as possible?

He's the smartest man you know, this isn't any real detective work. Fyodor knows why you're feeling the way you are. He can clearly tell that this actually happened - that you aren't fucking crazy.

So why is he acting like you are?

"Of course you are. I believe you, sweetheart. But what's the real problem here?"

His tired eyes slowly blinked at you. There was an emotion lurking in there, but you really didn't know how to describe it.

It was gentle, but not kind.

"Well. It was put on me. That means someone is drugging me. It's violating."

"I can see why you feel that way, yes. But maybe it was just an accident? People on the street these days are rather crazy-looney."

Fyodor had the gall to laugh as he said that, finding humor in his own words as he didn't find your plight worth crying over. There was no fret - being drugged was an everyday occurance.

Tomorrow you could be stabbed with heroin and it would just be an everyday occurrence, right? Worse things could happen to you. Maybe you would accidentally inhale deadly amounts of cocaine since this was just normal.

"Oh I can't believe you."

You left the room. At that moment you just wanted to punch Fyodor.

Did he always look that punchable? With his stupid smirk and pale, dead-looking skin. His eyes seemed so dead, with no read smile attached to them.

It was hard to look at him without feeling enraged.

"And where do you think you're going, sunshine?"

"Anywhere! If I have to see you again, I would probably. Oh!"

You made a noise as you kicked the door, rushing to just get out and get away from the source of your anxiety.

It felt natural, running outside and walking - letting the adrenaline in your body take you as far as it would let you.

Where were you going?

A hand on your arm stopped you. You turned around, the calm face that matched the pale skin - his dead purple eyes were smiling, although it made you stop dead in your tracks.

Where were you going?

You didn't have anything besides Fyodor.

"Please. Just leave me alone."

"You're being irrational, my dear. It's embarrassing."

The hold he had on your arm was tight, some hidden strength he carried that you never knew existed. Pulled did nothing, and there were tears pushing against your face as you felt the feeling again -

Trapped.

"Please. Fucking just. Let me go."

Shaking his head, Fyodor pulled you in - his face rested against your forehead, but the pull his hand had on his scalp was anything but gentle.

He was mad. About what?

Why did it always end up this way?

Honestly this can be stand alone, but YAY i finally finished this !!!! To the people who wanted this, I hope you enjoy this cuz this was kinda lot for me idk why.

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x y/n #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor bsd x reader #yandere bsd #yandere fyodor #yandere x reader #hey fellas ignore the fact this took forever to write btw

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juuuulez · 6 months

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WE NEED MORE CARL JERKING KFF HEDCANNONS PLSSS

can’t believe i’ve just done a carl grimes jerking off trilogy…….but i have no regrets

once again, turned this one into a small oneshot, with x reader!!! soooo enjoy (also could definitely be read as same reader from capulet)

NSFW under the cut, all characters depicted are 18+, MDNI.

Due to your relationship being secret, yourself and Carl often had to go outside the compounds of both Alexandria and the Sanctuary to truly enjoy each others company.

Because of this, you two struggled to be intimate with each-other, as the time and place was never right. It was always too dangerous, or there wasn’t enough time.

Usually, you’d meet in the woods. It was like a fun game, stalking around the trees, careful not to make any noise. Whoever saw the other first got to lunge, try and capture their prey.

The two of you would roll through the twigs and grass, fighting to see who could pin the other down, prevail as the strongest. It didn’t really matter, except for bragging rights, until your next scheduled tousle.

You’d ended up near a fallen tree, Carl still squirming on the floor as he attempts to get you off him, but you’re determined to stand your ground. You snake your hands up his arms, using all your strength to pin his wrists above his head.

That’s it, he’s lost. As such, he accepts his punishment (or reward, for feeding your ego?), letting your mouth come down onto his to capture it in a hot kiss.

It’s heated, feverish from the start, licking into Carl’s mouth, your tongues swirling together in a mess of teeth and spit. It’s always like this, as if it’s the last time you’ll ever see each-other, that this moment will cease to exist ever again.

You take mercy on him, releasing his wrists from your grip, allowing him to grab onto the flesh of your hips. Now, you can snake one hand into his hair, the other gripping just below his jaw.

Wanting to shift into a better position, one where you can feel him under you, you sit up. Eager to keep your lips connected, Carl follows, shifting backwards enough so that he’s leaning against the fallen tree, with you seated on his lap.

A steady rhythm grows, arms tangled around each-other, holding on like a lifeline. You develop a slight motion of rocking against him, the movement encouraging your heated makeout session, Carl palming your ass over the thick fabric of your jeans.

Eventually, breathless, you pull away. It calms down, transitioning into something softer, peaceful. You kiss over Carl’s face, lips dancing on his cheeks, forehead, nose. In turn, he tilts his head back, resting against the tree while you adorn his body with your love.

Deciding you’ve spent too long here, guards down, you begin to stand. Carl’s hands fall from your hips, his back straightening again, eyes downcast.

You follow his gaze, a small grin spreading on your face. “My poor boy.” You coo, leaning back in to kiss at Carl’s cheek, an embarrassed blush spreading across his pale skin.

There was an obvious tent in his jeans, arousal having developed over the course of your making out and heavy petting. It was impossible to miss, and you openly acknowledging it caused Carl to squirm at the attention.

When you reach down, letting your palm ghost over the bulge, his breath hitches. “You don’t have to. It’ll go away.” He assure you, that nervous glint in his eye. So cute.

“No, no, I want to.” You tell him, one hand settling on Carl’s hip, the other working at his belt buckle. He calms down a little at this, leaning back against the tree, submitting to your actions. Yet, he’s still watching you observantly, wanting to gauge your every reaction.

His cock is half-hard in your palm, slender and pale as the rest of him. You give it a few slow, leisurely strokes, savouring the way it hardens under your touches, growing to its full length. The tip reddens, a pinkish hue enveloping the head of his dick, appearing strained just from the slightest ministrations.

Carl let’s out a soft moan, causing your gaze to flicker up to him. In response, he clamps his teeth down on his bottom lip, silencing any other reactions. But your smile is sweet and caring, despite how you’re currently jerking him off, leaning in to continue kissing over his cheek, then down to his neck.

“It’s okay, baby. Let me hear you. It’s just us.”

It’s impossible to resist, causing Carl to grip onto your arm, his other hand fisting the leaves and dirt as he pants heavily next to your ear. You practically thrive off his reactions, learning exactly what makes him feel good, trying to wring as much pleasure from the boy.

When you squeeze over the head, his legs jolt upwards, body curling inwards, towards you. You continue the motion, running your thumb over his throbbing tip, watching as Carl drops his head onto your shoulder with a needy moan.

It’s perfect, so perfect.

You continue to pleasure him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as you twist your hand over Carl’s cock, over and over, manipulating your actions as he nears the edge. Faster, tighter, and then you’re putting a firm pressure on the swollen head, nibbling on his neck, as sticky streams of white finally spill onto your enclosed fist.

“Good boy.” You whisper, continuing to milk out his orgasm as you nurse Carl’s softening cock, careful not to let it brush against the rough fabric of his jeans.

With a sultry grin, you bring your hand up, watching his wrecked face as you lick the substance from your palm. It’s salty, coating your tongue and lingering on your tastebuds, leaving the hand shiny with saliva.

The lewd act causes Carl to gasp, eyes blown wide as he watches you, absorbed by this side he’s never seen before. His body still tingles from the aftershocks, and when you lean forward to kiss him again, he can already feel himself returning to attention.

He’ll never jerk off alone again.

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes x you

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dranna · 2 months

Text

You are a beautiful piece of art

Severus Snape x artist reader

Summary: “But you are so beautiful love” - “No I’m not. And we both know that. You’re just .. you're just too skilled of an artist, that’s all.” - That didn’t sit well with you at all. You were determined to show him how wrong he is.

Contents: established relationship, artist reader, fluff, angst, Severus just feeling unworthy of love and affection, gender neutral reader, any pronouns

Nsfw warnings: dom/sub, sub!severus, top!reader, praise kink, sir kink(?), neck fetish, no intercourse, gentle dom

a/n: this is the second, and very first Snape smut I’ve written, so I hope you’ll enjoy!

@giosnape thank you for the encouragement your perverted soul and the betaing! Also let me know if you would like to be tagged:)

~ English is still not my first language ~

“But you are so beautiful love”

“No I’m not. And we both know that. You’re just .. you're just too skilled of an artist, that’s all.” - Severus mumbled into his pillow, turning the other way. You two were laying in your shared bed, shielded by pillows and blankets from the outside world, deep in Snape’s private chambers.

The castle finally became deserted and calm after being submitted to many busy student’s feet during the day. A new school term started after all! You know well what it meant for your lover: overworked, plus hours, less sleep, naughty-uninterested children and maybe the worst of all, that deep rooted hostility and hate towards the potions master.

It won’t do at all. You thought, as you turned your head to look at the slim figure of your prince. He always talked about his appearance with such displeasure that it broke your heart. As your eyes traveled along the lines of his form, you saw no monstrosity that he usually describes. In the dim light of the candles, he appeared flawless in your gaze. Long, shiny dark hair, his pale scar filled skin, now covered by the blanket, that tells a story of survival and strength and his features that you couldn’t see now, were all a skillfully created art piece.

You turned your head to the other side, looking at a little writing table which stood in front of one of the two windows. There were many books, pergaments, quills and bottles neatly organized on its surface, apart from two objects. It was your quill and a pergamen you drew on. They were out of place among the neatly organised things on this neatly organised table .

Your pergamen depicted Severus the way you saw him. His sharp features are drawn with a fluid line, long amber hair giving them a living frame and dark eyes shining in the warm light you created. You mixed many shades together, creating a vibrant portrait of the usually grumpy potions master.

He walked in while you did the finishing touches of his portrait. You heard his rhythmic steps halt to a stop right behind you. You didn’t hear any sign of movement from him after that, so you stole a look at him.

There he stood, froze in place and time, mouth slightly open as he stared at his portrait made by your hands. He's never seen himself in a more beautiful light. You illustrated his features perfectly, yet when he looked at your art it wasn’t the same face he saw in the mirror.

Yours were a shining star, illuminated with a pure light from within, which sparkled through the nebulas of his eyes and landed him a handsome complexion.

However, when he saw his own image, there were no stars, no light, no beauty. Only a dry desert under the cold void without any trace of charm, suffocating under an invisible force.

“You don’t like it?” - you hesitantly broke the silence.

“I do! It’s just .. so beauteous.” - he whispered into the silence that sat between you two, still looking at your drawing.

“It looks like that, because this is how I see you dear.”

“What?!”

Your words shook him from his trans, now baring his dark eyes into yours. You read uncertainty, and a huge chunk of hope but most permanently disbelieve in them. As he stood there before you, something passionate burned behind his eyes. But before you could utter any other words, he shut them, watered them down so they couldn’t penetrate through the endless sky of his eyes.

“You can’t possibly mean that.”

“Yes I do!” - now you stood up fully to animate how much you meant your words. -“ I think you are the prettiest in the world.”

You tried to reason with him, explain that he is indeed handsome and not at all disgusting, but to no avail. He shut the burning flames of him deep inside and you saw it was a lost battle on your side.

This cat-mouse dance went on all day, until the evening scene we saw at the beginning.

As you laid there you made up your mind. This won’t do. You thought a thousandth time since that afternoon. You looked at him again. He wasn’t sleeping. You could tell by the posture of his shoulders and tense muscles under his nightgown. He was thinking.

You pulled yourself up, gently bringing your arm around his slim shoulders, caressing his arms while hinting a few kisses on his neck. You loved his neck so much. Most of the time hidden under layers of clothing, the skin is extremely delicate there. So pale, and showing his purple and red veins pulsating under, racing with each other at your touch. His Adam apple sticking out so much, the slightest movement visible.

He immediately leaned into your touch, a relieved sigh leaving his lungs. You gently pulled him towards you, so now he was laying on his back. Sky-dark eyes bore into yours, blinking in the dim light. Oh god, he was so so gorgeous! Sheepishly looking up at you, already blushing and you haven’t even done anything. There were many aspects you loved about him, you couldn’t even list your favourite, but him becoming a shy, flushed mess at the littlest of praise was in your top five.

You continued to attack his neck with kisses, while you slowly removed his nightgown.

Then you looked down. His usually cold, calculated eyes now burned with a passion, mirroring the flames of the candles in the room. His breath started to become uneven and his pale skin, like an untouched canvas, started to bare your brushworks. Reddening flames formed in his chest and burned the path all the way up his neck, cheeks and ears.

“You are beautiful, Severus.” - his lips opened immediately to disagree, but you sealed them with your own, slowly savouring him. You started to run your fingers along the curves of his chest, lighting fires in his skin along the way. Little whimpers began to escape from his mouth, silently pleading for more.

“Look at you Sev. You look so pretty whimpering below me” - you leaned down, whispering into his ears. You started to play with his obsidian hair, laying his locks on his chest and shoulders and running your fingers through them. “Say that you are pretty and I’ll touch you.” - you said, looking him straight into the eyes.

“N-no, I mean—“

“Just say the words Severus, and I’ll give you what you need. You need to be touched don’t you? “

“Yes s-sir.” - he managed to say out loud between his little whining nosies, moving desperately beneath you.

“Then be a good boy, and tell me how pretty you are.”

Ah those words again! Your praises set his insides on fire and freeing hundreds of butterflies in his chest all at once. The power you held over him scared him at first, but now it was his safety net. He could do anything and make any noise, he knew you wouldn’t mock him. You needed to say only a word and he would be on his knees in front of you, as if praying before his god. And now again, calling him a ‘good boy’ even though he didn’t deserve it, how would he have the strength to deny your order?

“I-I’m p-prett-y.”

“Yes, that’s my good boy.” - you purred, as your hands started to work on his slender form. Fingers pulled and twisted sensitive nipples and lips showered soft scars with kisses. - “ You deserve this, Severus. You are so delicate, my handsome prince. “ - and he lost it. He sank deeper and deeper into that velvety bliss, leaving himself fully at your care. His loud moans filled the room with a few desperate ‘please’s. His whole body and mind gave into the pleasure, dancing and following your touch. His hips found those one rhythm, moving skippin up and down, making his hard member bouncing on his belly.

“Tell me how beautiful you are and I’ll touch you where you most need it, love.”

“I-I’m b-beaut-tiful-l.”

“And how beautiful, hm? The most beautiful boy. Say it aloud.” - you ordered again, making his moans more high pitched. - “The-e m-most ,ah!, b-beau-utiful!” - he managed to say between sighs, blushing into a deeper shade of red.

“Good boy, always doing your best for me.” - as your praise left your lips, you started to work your hand up and down his member. Slowly you moved your palm, giving extra attention to the tip. The sounds which escape from Snape are so close to anguish. If not for the begging, you’d think he is in pain. - “Don't stop... pl- ah! Please... more..." - mouth hangd open, as he moaned and screamed his pleas. He tried to hide his face with his arms, but you prevented it with your free hand.

“No, you can’t hide. You’ll look at me and let me see that gorgeous face of yours.” - he tried to fulfill your wish while his head sank deeper into the pillows, struggling to stop his eyes rolling back into his skull. His whole body was shaking at this point, hips desperately meeting your movements in mid-air while tears mixed with sweat on his face.

He looked so pathetic as he was struggling against your touches. Both flying him to heaven and leaving him without release. You adored that only you could push him into this state. So pathetic yet so beautiful still, gladly burning between the flames you created. -“Pleasepleasepleaseplease..”

“I don’t understand what you want if you don't use your words.”

“I nee- hmm, need to-to cum..”

“I want to hear you say that you are stunning. Then I’ll let you cum.”

“No s-sir ahh-I —“

“We can continue this all night, but you aren’t allowed to cum, until I hear those words from your pretty lips.” - and you cruelly pumped your hand faster all the way of his length, never stopping or slowing down. You watched as he fell apart, panting, crying and groaning oh so beautifully. As his pleasure took over, all the gates in his mind broke, freeing and waking him from a long slumber. He couldn’t take it anymore, he needed release so badly!

“Ah-I’m-h s-stunni-ing!”

“Yes, you are stunning my love. Now cum for me, pretty boy.” - and he did with his full body, muscles tightened as more pleasure washed over him, hips bucking high up above the bed to thrust deeper into your hand, eyes rolling back deep into his skull. He moaned so loudly it could’ve been in a pornfilm.

He was floating in ecstasy as he felt your light touch, gently cleaning him and covering his form with the warm blanket. You crawled under the blanket, pulling him into a tender hug.

“Will you believe me now, when I say I see you as a magnificent prince?”

“Hmmm, maybe”

You two chuckled and continued to cuddle behind the shield of pillows deep in Snape’s private chambers. The whole school will be in shock tomorrow, seeing the-usually-very-grumpy-potions master shining with glee.

#severus snape #snape #severus snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #severus snape fandom #severus snape fic #snape fic #severus snape fanfiction #snapedom #snape fanfiction #servus snape #snape smut #severus x reader fluff #pro snape #my writing

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echo-lover · 2 months

Text

I wanted to share my thoughts about the first three episodes of Bad Batch season 3 immediately after watching them, but I was too emotional about everything I saw that I needed some time to calm down a bit.

It's beyond my expectations, just perfect! From the plot, to the characters, through the beautiful graphics and wonderful music, everything was epic. This season will definitely be much more mature and dark than the others. I love Bad Batch with all my heart and words cannot describe how important these characters are to me. I don't think I will focus on each episode separately, but I will show my general feelings and thoughts.

Something that touched my heart deeply was how Omega becomes so much like Hunter. Her facial expressions, her eyes, tactical skills and that characteristic whistle! I immediately thought of Hunter. She became so mature, strong, decisive and calm in stressful situations. It's clear that she's no longer the same little child we met on Kamino in the first season. She has changed so much... Even Crosshair seems to see this, as he let her lead during his escape from Mount Tantiss. He was her support, did not question her ideas and did not hesitate to follow orders. I love watching their bond become stronger. Every day Omega came to his cell, talked about her day... and he listened... he had no choice because he couldn't just go, but I think they both needed each other's presence. They knew they were not alone and encouraged each other, in some way.

It is clear that Omega still misses the rest of her brothers and strongly believes that she will be able to return to them again, together with Crosshair. She can't imagine leaving him, it's out of the question. No matter how hard Crosshair tries to make her believe that he is not worth saving, she will still be on his side. I think Crosshair realized through her that his brothers never really wanted to leave him and were willing to take him back at any time if he just wanted...

Even though Omega has become more mature, she is still a child. Being locked in a cell, the routine and monotony of life must be very exhausting for her, because she is by nature a lively, active and curious sweet girl. She spent most of her life locked up and the only good memories she had were of freedom and her brothers, even though it wasn't for a long time. She even made herself a doll like Lula, who stayed on the Marauder with Hunter and Wrecker. This parallel symbolizes their connection, despite the enormous distance that separated them. And Batcher... Omega doesn't want to forget, she wants to remember her brothers, the love she had for them and received from them, all those good memories together... Ouch...

Somewhere in another part of the Galaxy, two brothers are desperately looking for their little sister. Their worn armor shows that they have fought hard during this time. Hunter also has different bandana... I've seen a theory that it's similar to the band Omega wore on his wrist in season two. This way, maybe Hunter wanted to always have her close to him, at least a part of her, I wonder if he can smell her scent... Oh Force, I'm gonna cry...

The sight of Hunter having difficulty working with Tech's Datapad, how desperate he is to do everything he can to find Omega, how exhausted he seems... Maybe it's just me, but he looks thinner and has paler skin than before. This breaks my heart. I'm sure he was thinking about Tech who could do the job in a second. The sight of his goggles resting alone, the empty space he once occupied... Marauder never looked so lonely... Let me tell you, I shed a tear.

I really liked how Wrecker was the voice of reason in his conversation with Hunter. It's beautiful how one look, a nod of the head, or a hand on the shoulder can bring Hunter down. They support each other and it is clear that after everything they have lost, they have become even closer. They need each other to keep from going crazy.

Even though they are the only two left, Wrecker still considers Hunter to be the leader and waits for his orders even though he knows he doesn't have to. He remains loyal. When he was talking to the little cadets on the Marauder, I was so happy when I heard his laughter. Honest, loud and heartwarming. I think he's needed this for a long time. He definitely misses the company of a child on board, he loves children so much...

I also love that little scene where Hunter is working and looks at Lula out of the corner of his eye, thinking about Omega. He can't live without her... I feel like if they were separated again, he wouldn't be able todeal with it and would just explode, showing all the anger and despair he was holding, possibly doing something stupid in the process... He loves his little Omega too much that he can't imagine life without her. He is ready to drop everything just to be able to hold her close to him, to keep her safe. I'm so scared for him.

On the one hand, I was surprised that Echo didn't stay with the boys to look for Omega, but I expected him to join Rex. They may also be searching, but I think their main goal is to free prisoners and gather as many allies as possible to create the Clone Rebellion.

I could talk for hours and still not express all my thoughts and emotions that these episodes made me feel. I can't wait for next Wednesday.

#the bad batch #star wars #clones #never stop loving clones #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch season three spoilers #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #tbb tech #personal thoughts

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daenysx · 10 months

Text

i hope you enjoy!

my masterlist

lucky man

you help modern!aemond calm down when he is angry. nsfw.

you hear aemond's loud voice again.

for the fifth time in ten minutes.

you can't hear the words, they are unclear but it's not hard to understand that he is mad and he can't control his anger as he talks to someone on the phone.

you don't know who he speaks with, maybe it's criston, maybe it's aegon. as soon as he heard the ringtone and looked at his phone screen, the line between his eyebrows started forming and he left you in the bed to answer his call in the living room.

you don't leave the bed, wait for him to come by your side when he finishes. aemond is not a calm man, he gets angry quite often and when he does it takes a little time for him to return his normal self.

he keeps talking for about 5 minutes more then you hear his footsteps. it's almost midnight, you are in the bed with only aemond's shirt on you. he opens the bedroom door slowly, he is shirtless and his hair looks messy probably because of touching his hair when he's angry, his all time habit.

you look at him with big eyes as he walks in, curious but silent. he puts his phone on his nightstand and sits on the bed next to you, exhales deeply and covers his face with his hands.

you put your hand on his shoulder hesitantly, gentle fingers slowly rubbing his skin. he is tense, you can see. he takes a deep breath, tries to calm down. you keep your hand on his shoulder then move it towards his hand which is now staying on his lap, you hold it, your fingers look completed like a puzzle.

he turns to you then, sees the worried look on your face. "i'm sorry love, there's nothing to worry over now."

"are you okay? if you want to talk-"

he shakes his head. "no, i don't really want to talk about it. it was criston on the phone about a business deal. it's just-" he exhales. "well, they act like a bunch of idiots sometimes, driving me crazy."

you nod, leaning into his face and kissing his cheek. you want to comfort him, to not let him sleep like this. he always does that for you, always makes sure you feel good before you fall asleep no matter what happens.

you bite your lip with the idea that comes to your mind, unsure but also perfectly confident. he stares at you with an intense look, it's enough for you to move.

you hold his shoulders and make him lean to the headboard as you place yourself on his lap. your fingers stroke the tense muscles on his neck as he holds onto your waist.

"i want to make you feel better." you whisper. you can still see the angry lines on his face, you want to make them disappear.

"i want to make you feel perfect before we sleep. hmm? will you let me?" you say.

"i- i'll let you do anything." he says, voice shaky but attentive.

your fingers move to the waistband of his sweatpants, you know he isn't wearing anything underneath. pulling the soft fabric enough to let his cock free, you stay on his thighs. you pull your own panties to the side and your hand goes to his half hard cock.

you put your fingers on his lips with a little smile on his face. he takes your fingers in his mouth, wetting them with his eye closed. he makes a little sound, you can see how he starts relaxing already.

"a little more, come on." you say.

he does as you say and when you think it's enough you pull your fingers from his mouth to wrap them around his cock. you stroke him until he is ready, your free hand wanders on his abs. he breathes softly, encouraging you to move further.

"can you hold me?" you ask as you position yourself on top of him. he nods of course he fucking nods, holding you in your place and helping you take him.

his cock rests inside you for a little while, you don't move. his hands strokes your waistline, all pretty for him. you lean into his face, kissing his lips.

you break the kiss and move on top of him, arching your back. he moans slowly, your muscles clench around him as you move. "i just want to be good for you." you say, breathless. you start moving faster, his cock searches for your g-spot only to make it better for you.

"you are the best for me. keep moving, love, just like that." he says.

you nod, moving faster and faster. he keeps making sounds, only to make your muscles clench harder around him. you can't help your loud moan when he hits the perfect spot.

"right-right there. harder, please."

he nods, keeps you balanced on top of him. "you'll make me come so hard- so hard for you, baby."

your muscles pull him inside you a little more like it's possible, he welcomes the sudden tightness and holds the back of your head, kissing your neck. "do you mind if i mark you here? hmm?"

you shake your head, pressing your neck closer to his mouth. "whatever you want. whatever you need."

he smiles proudly. "my perfect girl."

he sucks red marks on your neck, not hurting you, just making you want him more. he takes off your shirt and kisses his way on your breasts. he sucks your nipple, holding the other one in his fingers. he pulls it lightly, buries himself between your breasts and he keeps his head there.

you get close to your peak, and you can feel him getting close too. you kiss his hair, try to fix it with trembling fingers. his head stays on your chest as he wraps his arms around you. you keep moving on his cock and he helps you just by holding you in his arms.

"aemond- i'm- so close. so close."

"just a little more for me, love. a little more and you'll make me come." he says, lifts his head from your chest to see your eyes.

you nod. "yes, anything for you. anything."

he pulls you harder on him and closes his eye, finally. "let go, baby. i'm right there."

you come around his cock as he comes inside you. he makes a perfect sound as he releases all the tension he has, holds you close. he comes and comes and comes, almost melts into you. you can feel the mixed liquid between your legs and it's so beautiful. he looks all relaxed now, the tense muscles relieve, he seems content.

you keep him inside you even after you both finished. he puts his head on your shoulder, takes deep breaths.

"feel better?" you ask with a sweet voice.

"mm-hmm. perfect." he answers, almost whispering.

he gathers his strength and lays you on bed as he stays inside you, he is on top of you now, you hold his head on your chest. you stroke his hair, playing with soft locks.

he starts kissing your body, anywhere his lips can reach. you are tired but it's not important. you cup his cheeks, having the eye contact you want.

"i love you." you say.

"i love you." he says it back. "thank you, sweetheart."

you smile, your hands on his hair again. "would you like to sleep now?"

"let me bring a towel to clean, you'll feel uncomfortable." he says but his voice sounds too tired, he has no energy to leave the bed.

"no, let's sleep like this tonight." you say.

he moves in bed, now you are on top of him. you know how much he likes sleeping like this, with you on top of him and him inside you. "is this good, baby?" he asks.

"mm-hmm. that's good, aemond." you whisper.

aemond targaryen is a lucky man, and he knows this. he loves it when you don't push him to talk, instead you are there for him, relieving his stress and giving him the physical closeness he desires.

he loves how perfect you are for him. his pretty girl. he smiles into your hair before sleep takes him quickly after that mind blowing orgasm you gave him.

he even forgets the why he was angry and that feels fucking wonderful.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #modern!aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond one eye #aemond × reader #aemond fluff #aemond smut

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bruisedboys · 1 year

Note

🍓 “good girl.” With Remus

okay so I took a completely different approach on this one and did dad!remus … hope u still like it angel!! and thank you for the request 🤍

summary: yours and remus’ daughter, daisy, throws a mini tantrum. remus handles it like a champ

mum!reader 0.8k words

Yours and Remus’s daughter looks exactly like you. If you were four years old and quite a bit smaller. She’s got your eyes, your skin tone, your lovely hair. Even her nose is a carbon copy of yours. Remus would be jealous if she wasn’t so pretty. He’s always wanted a kid that looks like him, but one that looks like you is even better.

She’s got a grumpy face that’s shockingly similar to yours, too. She’s pulling it now, sitting on the kitchen bench with her legs swinging and her arms crossed, scowling at Remus so fiercely it’s almost not cute. Almost.

“Daisy girl,” he says patiently. He never wants to lose his patience with her. Ever. Even now, when he’s unhappy with her because she’d shouted at you when you were just trying to help. “You made your mum real upset, you know that?”

Daisy shakes her head vigorously and shouts, “No!”

Remus doesn’t know what she’s saying no to and isn’t sure she knows, either. He sighs.

“No what, baby?” He asks. One of Daisy’s kicking legs catches him in the thigh and he sets a hand over her knee to stop the movement. He squeezes her soft, squishy thigh gently, to let her know he’s not mad. She’s so small his fingers spread all the way to her hip.

She visibly softens under her touch. Her bottom lip wobbles. “No,” she says again, less angry and far more sad.

Daisy promptly bursts into tears. Remus’s heart cracks into a million pieces. Sure, he’s not happy about the shouting, but seeing his little girl cry never fails to break his poor heart.

It only gets worse from there. Daisy starts wailing. Remus has no choice but to scoop her up in his arms and hold her to his chest as if that will glue his heart back together.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he soothes. He holds her with one arm under her butt while his free hand rubs small circles on her back. “Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Daisy cries and cries and cries. Remus knows you’re gonna appear before you do. You’re not very much stronger than him, when it comes to Daisy’s cries.

You’ve got a look on your face close to heartbreak as you appear in the kitchen doorway. Remus has a funny feeling you’ve been standing just out of sight this whole time. He meets your eyes and frowns.

“Dais,” he says softly into her ear. She’s still crying, shaking from the sobs, but she’s quieter now. She really does sound very sad. “Mummy’s back now. Did you want to say sorry?”

Daisy calms down enough to pull away slightly and look Remus in the eyes. Her face all wet and flushed, eyelashes sticking together, cheeks hot and pink. Remus doesn’t like it one bit. He uses his thumb to push away her sticky tear tracks as she nods.

“Yes,” she says hoarsely, her breaths shaky like they always are when she cries like this.

Remus smiles at her softly. “Okay, then.”

He carries her over to you and she hides in his neck on the way over. Her face is warm and wet on his skin. He can hear every little tremble in her breathing and it takes everything he has not to break down crying himself.

He encourages Daisy out of her hiding place once he’s close to you. She appears, all tear-streaked and so very sad. Remus props her higher on his hip and twists his shoulders so she’s facing you.

“Good girl,” he says to her, softly, encouraging. He strokes a thumb over her hip. “Go on.”

Daisy is quiet for a moment. Then,

“M’sorry, mummy,” she says, quiet as a mouse but so sincere it has both Remus and you smiling like idiots.

“Aw, that’s okay, sweetheart,” you say, never one to hold grudges. You hold your arms out for her and she goes to you immediately.

Remus watches with so much love it hurts as you wrap her up tightly and lay kiss after kiss to her head.

“It’s alright, baby,” you say sweetly. “You know I just wanted to help you, yeah?”

Daisy nods into your shoulder. Remus feels a rush of pride that at least something he’d said to her had stuck.

“I understand that I made you mad, though. I should’ve explained better.” You pull back and Daisy follows suit. You look her in the eyes and smile softly. “I’m sorry, too.”

Daisy falls right back into your chest. “That’s okay, mama.”

You smile so big Remus is sure it aches, your hand rubbing her back soothingly. You meet Remus’s eyes over Daisy’s shoulder, a look on your face that says thank you.

Remus kisses you in lieu of a you’re welcome.

#★ mal writes!#ღ remus #𖤐 2k celebration!#remus lupin #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin x reader fluff #dad!remus lupin #dad!remus lupin x reader #✉️

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httpswritings · 3 months

Text

cinnamon girl — Katie McCabe x Reader

Warnings: mentions of surgery, anesthesia, anxiety and clowns.

Word count: 970

Summary: Comforting Katie as she has to face one of her biggest fears.

A/N: Based on this request <3

“There's things I wanna say to you, but I'll just let you live”

“I can't! I can't do it because I'm scared... I've been scared all week because just the thought of anesthesia makes me want to throw up.”

Katie. Funny, extroverted, and entertaining.

Everyone always had a good laugh when they were around her.

Confident, strong, and optimistic.

That's the main idea people had about her.

Only her closest circle knew that, behind the shell of being an outgoing and charismatic woman, a vulnerable and sensitive Katie was found.

You had been discovering this aspect of her as she let you get to know her better.

Always being cautious with who she would open to, she knew that she could trust you but still didn't want to show her truest self as she was worried of scaring you.

“But if you hold me without hurting me, you'll be the first who ever did”

You hugged her in absolute silence for half an hour. Only the sounds of the street and your breathing filled the room.

You softly shushed Katie when she apologized to you for shouting at you.

Her breathing began to slow down as she sighed and leaned on your chest.

“You don't have to pretend to be fine, Katie. Anesthesia's not a big deal for me, but it is for you, the same way clowns are funny to you and I'm frightened just by thinking of them.

Katie giggled as she remembered the time when you hid behind her as a kid dressed up in a clown costume approached you on Halloween.

“What I mean, baby, is that you can open up to me. I'm here for you. I'll probably won't be able to be next to you when your surgery takes place, but I'll be outside of the room thinking about you. If, when you're there, you feel like you can't calm yourself down, think about me and focus only on those thoughts. Imagine me being next to you, holding your hand, and telling you how much I love you and how proud I am of you for going through this, because that's how I feel. The proudest girlfriend ever knowing my brave girl is going to do great.”

“Hold me, love me, touch me, honey, be the first who ever did”

Katie couldn't stop looking at you. It's just as if she stopped doing it, you'd disappear.

Her hand was tightly holding yours.

You could see her eyes were holding tears back.

Her glazed expression was concerning.

“Darling, you're going to be okay. Thankfully, they've let me stay in this room during the whole procedure, so I'll be waiting for you to take care of you just the way you deserve. When you wake up, you'll have a precious bucket of lilies adorning your room. I'll go buy them when I certainly know that the operation is over, so don't worry about me being far away when you're still going under surgery.”

Katie remembered your previous words. «Imagine me holding your hand. Focus on me and only me. Me. Me. Me. You're safe, Katie. I'm right here.» She noticed the syringe piercing her skin.

You noticed how Katie's body tensed, so you rushed to caress her cheek. «Katie, it's okay. I'm here, baby. Focus on me. You're safe.»

She kept looking at you and hearing your encouraging words until the anesthesia started to do its work.

She began to lose consciousness with you easing her nervousness until she completely dozed off.

You were with her during the whole surgery. You couldn't deny that you were nervous, listening to the surgeons give orders to their assistants.

Seeing your girlfriend so vulnerable overwhelmed you with a feeling of protectiveness.

«You're doing great, Katie. I'm so proud of you, darling.» You thought as if she could read your mind.»

When the surgeons told you that the procedure was over, you kissed Katie on the forehead and went to buy the lilies you had promised her.

Katie began to wake up, and just as you had promised her earlier, a beautiful bucket of lilies accompanied her in the room, with you caressing her hair and softly smiling at her.

“Hello, sleepy girl.“

She smiled as she opened and closed her eyes, blinking in slow motion.

“How did it go?”

“Shh... It went well, baby. How do you feel?”

She tried to settle into the bed, but you stopped her.

“Darling, don't do that. Let's wait until the doctor comes so we can know if it's okay for you to sit down.”

She whined, but obeyed.

“I feel okay. I feel a little bit dizzy and as if I have a cold. My stomach feels weird, but I'm hungry.”

Katie looked around the room, noticing the bucket of lilies.

“Your promise...”

Her amused tone warmed your heart.

“Yes, my love. I always keep my promises. Do you like them?” you said referring to the flowers.

“Of course I do. They're so beautiful.”

“They are. They're not the most beautiful thing in this room, but they're pretty decent.”

She looked confused for a second until she realized what you meant.

“I don't look beautiful,” she said, laughing ironically, still with a soft tone due to the anesthesia.

“Look is not the correct word. You are beautiful. No matter the circumstances.”

She rolled her eyes and tried to stabilize herself, as that movement made her dizziness stronger.

“I don't have the strength to fight you, but you know—” She stopped talking as she looked at you.

As she regained more consciousness, she realized you were there and what that meant to her.

“Thank you, my love. Thank you for being here, and thank you for understanding me.”

You kissed her head and caressed her cheek.

“I'm so proud of you, Katie. So, so proud. Not only have you faced your fear, but you still take your time to be grateful.”

You both exchanged a look that showed nothing but pure admiration for each other, making that hospital room brighten up with your love.

#katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe imagine #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader

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delugguk · 2 years

Text

all for you

PAIR: idol!hoseok x reader

GENRE: smut, stablished relationship, fluff if you squint.

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: doggy, reverse cowgirl lowkey? making out, flustered hoseok because he's just soooo cuteㅠ

summary: you were so proud of your boyfriend leading his first mini solo concert so that's what you wanted to show him.

note: this is my first hoseok fic let's goooo~~ I also wanted to dedicate this fic to @sxtaep bc I know how much she likes hoseok *giggles*

"you were so good baby, I'm so proud of you."

your body is on top of his while you softly kiss on his slightly red skin.

hoseok has a very drunk-on-love smile plastered on his face. "thank you baby.." murmuring with his lidded eyes while his hands rest on your hips, touching you delicately.

as you continue kissing his hot skin, you move towards his neck. hoseok sighs at the nice feeling of your warm lips wrapping around it when he tilt his head back, immersing himself into this moment and while he's very much enjoying the way you're treating him right nowㅡthe reason why his skin is subtly painted by a red tone is because...

ever since you came here with jimin to keep him company, easing his very troublesome and nervous mind, your mouth hasn't stopped complimenting him or encouraging him to do what he loves the most. bringing so much confidence in him that he can't help but feel his body get all heated, shy and excited at the same time. causing this very light red tone on his honey skinㅡfeeling embarrased whenever you do.. it's not that he doesn't believe it, but hearing you talk so beautiful about him makes him feel so many things.

things he doesn't seem to control.

things that go beyond him.

making his heart beat like crazy. - feelings overflow with thoughts and he feels lucky. lucky because he's able to let himself have someone like you in his life, by his side. his teammates are also special, but the emotional and physical support is very different when it comes to it. having someone to feel like this, crave like this and miss like this? he could only miss and treat his friends by one certain extent. you on the other hand, were always available for him, he could fuck you the way he wanted, love you the way he wanted, touch you the way he wanted.. It was all so different.

he's sure his friends could even understand this unmatched sentiment.

being his pretty cheerleader had him thought he could get used to it, but boy.. was he wrong.

today has been the day were he thinks you've praised him the most.

giving him energy before his stage, you began complimenting him so much after the concert was done too. starting when he was getting readyㅡto backstage, even in the way back to the hotel and it's just...

galaxies formed into your eyes. you seemed to be so proud of him and while he has felt the big energy of the stage, he doesn't think he has ever seen you this happy for him. you always were, but something about this night told him that you were definitely his to take.

something so genuine in you..

he began to think about how much he adored the way you showed love to him. admiring the way you could tell and express your feelings without much trouble, that was something very much hard when it comes to himself. he genuily can't do it without automatically feeling embarrassed, so shy. so seeing the way you make it look so easy.. It actually gave him courage to open up a little more with himself. to not care at all and admit that he's good enough, that he's doing just fine. he recognizes all of these things about himself though, but it's just that it's a little difficult and different when it comes to hearing that outside of his mind.

dating you has made a big impact on him because he now could say it out loud. he has gotten better but still, his skin was always faster than him before he could even speak.

as your lips seemed addicted to his skin, there was just something about seeing your boyfriend like this that made you want to love him all over. he seemed so calm, maybe so.. yours. you can't quite tell what are the right words to what you mean but after seeing how extraordinary he could be on stage..

people singing to his solo songs after many years.. seeing how much he's loved and the way he reacted so well.. he did such an amazing job at carrying what is one of the biggest challenges he could have as a solo artist and you couldn't help but feel so happy and proud of him for marking this grand step. It truly was an experience and so you wanted to show him allㅡgenuily feeling like giving him back all of his efforts.

even though you could only give this little..

having him looking like this in front you now: vulnerable to your touch, moaning for you, needing you.. this. this is what you liked. of all his sides, this was just one of your favorites. the one were at the end of the day he's always back to you, loving you. fucking you. this.

so as your lips keep giving sensual pecks into his cheeks, neck, ears, jawline, chin, forehead.. and just every part of his face, you wanted to make him feel good. - hoseok actually loved when you did that too. It made him feel very much wanted and loved. just what he needs and likes.

with his post-concert adrenaline, you wanted him to release it all.. with you. you wanted to drain all of his energy into you, you're willing to absorb it all. - you know just how much that relaxed him and how much he enjoyed fucking you each time.

raw, slow.. it doesn't matter how it is. he always give it to you good and there's just something about the way he touched you that you adored so much.. - his hands being one of your favourite parts of his body, you place them around your ass.

hoseok's reactions were always good, very pleasing to see. the way he sighed everytime you did something he liked and how he closed his eyes.. when you kiss him, his heart shaped lips along with the little mole on his top lip seemed to always shine everytime you both took short breaks to breath and when he talked to you.. irresistible. that's all you can say.

when the kiss gets more intense, his touch starts matching his pace.

rougher.

needier.

and he's suddenly lifting your shirt gripping your skin into pulling you closer to him.

his hair makes you giggle when his face buries against your neck, only causing him to smile while he kiss on it.

you loved the way he looked with this hair though.. so nice, so hot..

"fucking love you.." hoseok whispers into your skin as you grind your hips into each other. "thank you so much for being here baby.." he moans before his lips are back into yours.

you don't say a word. enjoying your boyfriend's warmth and need to release his post-concert euphoria. he knows he could use you, he knows that you'll let him, but still.. hoseok always liked to hear you say it.

"you're letting me-"

"yes." you quickly affirm. he doesn't need to ask. you know he'll be fine by just thisㅡhad spoke about his many times before, just a simple answer can make its work.

he doesn't say anything else, only a fainted grin showing on his face when he's laying his back down the hotel room's bed. dick very hard below you as your lips draw a trail of wet sensual kisses along his naked chest and stomach. causing a moan from him the moment he lays his lidded eyes down on you.. you seem so hungry for him, so passionate into wanting to make him feel good..

then a brainstorm of questions quickly pass through his mind.

does he deserves you?

but then he remembers the many times you have told him the way he does just as much as you deserve him. because you were made for each other, because you both have a great connection, because nobody could ever match your energy.. and it was all true. he remembers and he believes that so much. the amount of sense of stability and safety you provide him is beyond what he can ever imagine when it comes to a relationship like yours. he don't think he could ever escape this feeling. not if it's with you.

taking his bare dick with your hand, you give him a gentle squeeze followed by your lips wrapping against his tip.

"ah.." hoseok sighs. "ffuck I wanted this.." eyes slowly closing as his head hits his pillow after you start bopping your mouth into his length. "yeah.. I wanted this." whispering to himself as your walls clench around nothing.

something about him cursing in a lower and breathy tone that causes that much effect in you..

his hand goes down your hair, gently and when he glances at you coating his dick so well with your saliva he can't help but ask,

"ffucking hot." exhaling, eyes gone. "don't you want to bounce on my dick?" with the sexiest grin you could ever witness.

your mouth pops out of his length as you squeeze your legs and bite your lips. "I'll like to."

"then what the fuck are you waiting for?"

you inmediately froze at his words, before you remember how needy and rude he could getㅡbut that's just.. so hot of him, in your opinion.. so you give him doe eyes as you crawl on him and his dick is so fucking hard.. very much erect and twitching.. suddenly the thought of you giving yourself for him to use crossed your mind.

It'll be a good alternative way into giving him what he wants, no?

so, moving quickly you make yourself position into your hands and knees. arching your back exposing your ass to him. "fuck me like this."

hoseok gasps. you know how much he loves this.

"use me." you murmur as your walls clench. gosh, you were needing him very badly.

hoseok grunts. he notices. "ha.." sighing. "what will I do with you.." lifting himself off the bed to get close to you, palming your ass as one hand pumps his very hot length. "making me nuts.."

spank!

and you jump at the sudden touch. walls clenching even more.. hoseok bites his lips into a smile and his face looks almost too devilish when you glance at him. you don't think you've seen him be this sexy..

"If I fuck you now.. I will go hard, baby.." he states while his dick brushes against your wet folds, coating him just well. "hm?" he takes his face next to your neck, leaving hot sensual pecks.

your nipples were so hard.. good thing he toys with them.

"are you okay with that?" he whispers into your ear while one of his hands start caressing your clit.

"eunng" you moan, rolling your hips back and forth into his dick.

"hm?" he smirks against your hair.

"y-yes."

"mhm." it's all he says, his warmth no longer against your face.

when goes back to his old position, the moment he enters you has you looking for air. he didn't only feel good but the way he could easily introduce himself into you was what surprised and turned you on at the same time. so you were that wet huh?

It shouldn't be something to be so shocked about because you were always like this with him but.. you still get surprised at just how much. you know? It's like you can feel it but to actually see it.. yeah, it's a whole other feeling.

"fucking hell," he moans the moment you slowly start fucking yourself back into him. "..as expected." he grabs your hips with both hands. "fucking needy." when he starts thrusting into you, hard.

his thrusts start getting more messy by the minute, you both are moaning so much even thought the vocalizations aren't as much noisy. it's more of you panting, hissing and exhaling rather than big crying noises, somehow trying to keep it low but it's because you're both too immerse into this type of pleasure, it feels different and it's so hot.

hoseok's dick is glistening so much, he actually loved the wet noises both your genitals were making. - when he seats down, you start bouncing your ass into his dick without facing him. all he had was this incredible view of your ass covering his length from time to time that once you cummed, he's inmediately thrusting up at you so fast that when he fills you up with his cum, he takes his time to see the way your little pussy hole squeezes out all of your cum and his, mixed back onto his length. the sight being too much that he even collects it with his tip and pushes back into you, pushing some little more back and forth as you also move with him. enjoying that little of overstimulation.

when you're all showered and about to sleep, you say to him. "I'm so proud of you." cuddling into his arms.

hoseok chuckles. "you've already say that, baby." caressing your hair.

"I know, but I truly mean it, babe."

eyes looking at his and his lips are so close to yours, you take the opportunity to leave a peck on it.

and hoseok's heart flutter.

"I love you so much. do you know?" he's serious as his arms squeeze your body hard but soft enough into his.

"I do." you respond, and despite you both serious faces, there's nothing more that speaks louder than both of your eyes.. filled with so much adoration and love, hoseok feels the need to remind you all over again how grateful he is for you to be here.

"the best in the whole world. I'm so glad to have you here, with me." he faintly smiles as his eyes slowly close given to him being sleepy, but that doesn't stop him from giving you one last forehead kiss for the night.

you smile back at him even though he clearly can't see.

burying your face into his chest, you feel like the luckiest person in the world. having him in your arms, even though you're (technically) the one being on his right now, you couldn't help but feel so happy.

happy that he saw all the support.

happy to know that this was all for him and him only.. yeah, this was a big step for him and for the way you and jimin hyped all this thing up.. you see it to be very hard to get over with and so then, you hoped for much more days like these to come..

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bangtaninborderland · 9 months

Text

NIRAGI: Consent

Summary: You don’t feel too good about trying something new, luckily Niragi takes the time to listen, his solution bringing you comfort.

Genre: smut, comfort, 18+, requested.

A/N: this was a small idea I had for request that gave a very vague description, I hope you like it! It’s not too long but I thought it was cute, remember consent and through discussions are sexy.

Warning: fingering, kink discussion, edging.

Alice In Boderland Masterlist

"Where are yo-" Niragi stopped in the doorway, mouth shaped in an o as he looks at you crying.

"I'm sorry." You sobbed, holding the rope he had asked you to get. "I can't."

"Can't?" He shook his head, padding over to you.

The bed sink a little as he sat beside you, arm pulling you in for a hug. "Come here, baby. Talk to me.”

“I wanted to try it for you, I know how much you like that stuff I just don’t know how to stop panicking every time I think about being restrained.” You explained through a series of heavy breaths, the scent of his cologne calming you somewhat.

“Pretty girl, what am I going to do with you hm? You wanted to please me so bad that you wanted to try something even when you were scared?” He chuckled, reaching to brush your tears from your face.

You nodded, leaning further into him. “I wanted to be good I really did, I just… I can’t.”

He pulled you into his lap, securing his arms around you. The warmth of his frame pressed against yours only brought you a sense of comfort you were desperate for. “The thing about bondage and kinks darling is that they are supposed to be enjoyable, you can still be good and not be ready to try things that make you feel sad or uncomfortable. I would never expect you to do something that made you feel uncomfortable in a bad way.”

“I know you like it though.” You sniffled, your head resting against his collarbone. “I don’t like it when we can’t do the things you like because you’re so good to me, you take care of me and I want to do that for you too.”

“Doll, look at me.” He breathed, hand coming up to guide your chin, smiling when your gaze landed on him. “There’s an awful lot that you do for me, when you give me your trust during a scene you’re doing something for me, when you cheer me up on a bad day you’re doing a lot for me, your presence, your laugh, even our conversations does a lot for me. In the past, I wasn’t the best with my anger but having you here helped, I learned to be a better man because I had you. Don’t ever downplay what you’ve done or who you are because you can’t do one thing, one thing that, in comparison to all the other amazing things you’ve done, is nothing.”

“It’s just…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words. “I want you to be happy with me, I don’t want you to think I’m incapable.”

He hummed, finger tapping against your leg. “Do you trust me, baby?”

You nodded instantly. “With my life.” You firmed your voice, wanting to show how much you meant the declaration.

“Lay down.” He motioned to the bed, helping you off his lap.

You laid the way he directed you, head on the pillow.

He gave you a smile. “Now hold your hands above your head and don’t let go of the headboard.”

You followed his request, gripping it tightly. “I won’t let go.”

You watched as he trailed his hands up and down your thighs, goosebumps forming over your skin. “So pretty, so good baby.”

You preened at the praise, letting your eyes flutter closed as he continued moving. You tensed your legs as his hand slid under your shirt, finger tracing your nipple. “Look at you staying still, don’t even need ropes when you’re so good at listening.”

His touch mixed with the praise only served to encourage your arousal, but still, you remained in place, wanting to show him just how well you could behave. “Feel s’ good.”

“Remember be still sweetheart.” He whispered, his finger moving down to trace your pussy from the outside of your underwear. “Who does this belong to?”

“Y-you.” You stuttered. “Only yours.”

He hummed, pleased with your response. Your grip on the headboard tightened as he pushed your underwear to the side, finger sliding up and down your folds before dipping inside of your hole. “Fuck.” You nibbled at your lip, resisting the urge to buck your hips for more.

“So wet for me, who knew my baby could get turned on so easily?” He teased, slipping another finger in.

“More-more p-please.” You whined, knuckles turning white.

“Whatever you say doll.” He chuckled, fingers picking up the pace as he slid them in and out, curving them up now and again to brush against your g-spot.

You kept still and he fucked your cunt with his fingers, your moans growing from a small whimper to throaty grand, your toes clenching and unclenching. “Gonna-gonna cum.” You blabbered out, words slurred.

He pumped his fingers into you a few more times, bringing your orgasm to the edge just one more and you’d-

Your eyes shot open as he removed his fingers, wiping them on a nearby cloth. “Wh-what?” You felt your orgasm slipping away, still not daring to move.”

“Relax darling, deep breaths. You’re going to sit there and not move, don’t touch, I’ll be right back.” You knew he wanted you to let your orgasm go, forgetting the idea of having one today. Despite how desperate you felt to just rub your thighs together, how easy it would be to reach down and find the pleasure you were slowly losing you didn’t. You stayed still.

You were sure it had been at least 10 minutes when he came back into the room, a bottle of water in hand. “You can let go now, come to me.”

You crawled over to him, he had sat on the edge of the bed making it easier for you. He uncapped the water bottle pushing it to you. “Drink.”

You accepted it, only realising how dry your throat had got once the cool water slid down it. “Thank you.”

“Do you know why I asked you to do that?” He raised an eyebrow, taking the water bottle back from you before closing it and placing it on the floor. “Do you know why I told you to stay there?”

You shook your head, you knew he had a reason but it wasn’t entirely clear. “I didn’t need a piece of rope to keep you still, you listened so well and you didn’t move, you made me so proud. Despite the fact you could have moved you didn’t, you still submitted and followed what I had instructed you to do. That’s a thousand times more satisfying than having you tied up.”

You let the words settle in your mind, he was right, somehow you understood the way it made him feel. “I really wanted to show you I could be good.” You explained, wanting to make up for your inability to be tied.

“You’re always good, when something pushes your limits I will never force you to do it. I will never force you into an uncomfortable situation for my own gain. There are always options and other things that can be tried.” It was moments like these, tired from playing, his hand running through your hair as you laid your head on his thigh where everything just felt right, felt perfect.

“You edged me.” You simplified. “You edged me, you gave me the ability to take what I wanted but you knew I wouldn’t.”

“Correct baby.” He laughed. “You did so good, I knew you’d listen.”

“How did you know I didn’t…you left the room.” You outed, turning to look up at him.

“I stayed by the doorway, I’d never leave you during a scene.” His smile turns a little more serious. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“I love you.” You smile, tucking your face away against him.

He leans down placing a kiss on your head. “I love you too pretty girl.”

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solomons-finest-rum · 9 months

Text

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 2

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you to everyone for words of encouragement and for waiting for the update 💗💗💗💗💗 Goodness, that was one hefty break. I hope the next part won't take me as much, but I can't exactly promise it will be fast, sorry about that. I think this is a part 2 out of 3 and then I'll do an epilogue, but that is still more of a draft than a plan.

WORD COUNT — 2,708

Masterlist

Tommy sat beside Polly in utter silence, watching the cigarette slowly burn between her fingers to the point where the heat nearly touched the skin. Tommy observed it with morbid fascination because it was something other to do than to stay with his own thoughts. And he would not dare to speak to Polly first—not after the news he had brought her this evening.

The clock chiming in the hall let them know it was nearly three o’clock in the morning, but still neither of them moved. The fire went out long ago and Tommy wondered in his solemn silence if Polly would accept a blanket.

“How could you tell me she was dead?” Polly suddenly asked the question Tommy had been dreading for the past hour and then she flicked the cigarette butt straight on the carpet.

Tommy dared to look her in the eye then and immediately regretted that decision when he was met with nothing but hurt and steel-like anger.

“They told me she was, Pol. I went to the parish myself, saw the documents myself,” Tommy replied calmly.

That signature state of calm didn’t come to him as quickly as it used to, he noticed. These days it required more and more effort; or perhaps the things he chose to do got worse with time.

“Fucking nuns,” Polly hissed and shook her head. “You should have pressed them harder! Should’ve made them talk!”

“Then what, hm? Threaten them? Put a gun to their head, eh? There was nothing else they would have told me, Pol, they didn’t know.”

“I don’t care what! We shouldn’t have just abandoned her like that. Now look what happened, she’s a hostage with another fucking monster, just ready to put his paws on her whenever he pleases!” Polly stood up abruptly and Tommy wondered for a moment if perhaps he shouldn’t slip some laudanum in her drink. She looked frenzied, her hair in disarray and eyes bloodshot. The way Tommy saw it, she was half-ready to walk to Margate on foot and kill Alfie herself.

“Polly,” Tommy moved to stand in front of her just in case she had any ideas. He put both hands on her shoulders to reassure her. “Polly, look at me. Alfie Solomons, yeah? Alfie Solomons is just about the last man you’d find putting his hands on anybody that didn’t ask for it, all right? I swear this much.”

“Jesus, I don’t care what you swear anymore, Tommy!” Polly scoffed and tore herself away. “The man is insane, you said so yourself—many times in fact! We all remember what he did to Arthur! Or have you forgotten?!”

“No,” Tommy replied stiffly. “Perhaps he’s insane, but he’s not cruel to women, Polly, never has been. He doesn’t have the reputation.”

“Well, neither do you, that doesn’t mean one wife’s not buried, the other’s escaped!”

Though Tommy would never admit it, that hurt immensely. That was the problem with people who loved him, he supposed. They knew exactly where to hit to draw the most blood. He willed his face to return to the stony mask it was before.

“But your daughter is not buried and she isn’t gone,” he said. “She’s alive, Pol, I saw her with my own two eyes. She’s alive and we can get her back.”

“Well, that’s not exactly possible now, is it?” she scoffed and turned her gaze back to the fireplace as if some ghostly apparition beckoned her to it. “You said she didn’t know you, I bet that fucking animal has her caged.”

“That’s not true. I saw her, Pol, she looked well.” Tommy felt like stressing that might help. “She has your eyes and your wit and I swear she cooks somethin’ awful, but she’s no prisoner. Alfie is…” He hesitated then, because it wasn’t exactly a comfortable thought to consider. “She’s got him wrapped around her little finger, Pol. You can’t say no to her, eh? Just like I can’t exactly argue with you neither.”

That brought Polly back, even if just to glare at her nephew with fury.

“Pol, I swore to you once I’d bring your children home and I haven’t changed my mind.” Tommy took her hand in his and to his relief this time Polly didn’t pull away.

“I don’t think Alfie harmed her,” he insisted. “I don’t think she’d let him. Polly, she looked tough. Hardened by life. She’s a woman grown, Pol, and I know she can take care of herself. You said so yourself, eh? It’s grandfather’s gift, reading people. Well, I read her tonight and I know Alfie, too. Something happened to her, that much’s clear, but there’s nothin’ evil happenin’ to her in that house.”

That seemed to satisfy his aunt because she finally took a deep breath that actually made Tommy feel like he could breath himself.

“Why would he tell you to lie to me, Tommy?”

“How do you mean?”

“Why would he think you wouldn’t tell me? That you’d play his game.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But I know what he wants in return and to be honest his plan wasn’t as delirious as I’d take him for.”

“I don’t care what you discussed with that man, that’s of little consequence,” Polly scoffed. “We are going to get her and we are going to get rid of him once and for all, Thomas, because no one fucks with the Peaky fuckin’ Blinders and no one fucks with the family! Do you hear me?!”

“I hear you.”

“Good. Now get up!”

“So we’re goin’ today?”

“Today!”

Tommy nodded and gently navigated her back into the armchair. He rang the bell for the maid. In the agitated state Polly’s house was currently in, Tommy was sure the servants weren’t really sleeping.

“And get Michael,” she ordered. “I don’t care what that peroxide tramp says about it, he’s coming with us.”

Alfie stood on the porch and smoked his pipe. He let you squeeze his arm in anger while trying to sneak concerned glances in your general direction. Tired of being treated like a spooked horse, you glared at him until he stopped with all the concern. You were tougher than you looked and you would very much appreciate it if Alfie finally admitted it.

“You alright?” Alfie asked you for what must have been the twentieth time and you nodded stiffly instead of a reply.

“Darlin’, I mean it, all right, ‘cause if you ain’t tryin’ to make me bloody worried then you’re doin’ a splendid job regardless, yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Right, that’s just fuckin’ uncalled for, that…”

“No. Someone’s coming.”

You pointed then to the faint shapes on the horizon, which, judging by the noise, must have been the Shelby Bentleys.

“Get the binoculars, Alfie.”

“I’ll get the fuckin’ shotgun is what I’ll get.”

“Alfie.”

“I’ll do as I damn well please in my own house, woman!”

“So your brilliant means of operation is just bullets, is that it? What the hell did you expect, that Tommy would just listen to you?”

There was a clear measure of challenge in your words and all you two did then was just size each other up, trying to see who would call the bluff first. Finally, your husband grumbled his best catalogue of swear words and brought you the binoculars you asked for.

“It’s the Shelbys,” you confirmed.

“Like clockwork, that lot,” Alfie scoffed. “You tell them one thing, they go the opposite fuckin’ direction.”

“Some clock that’d be,” you chuckled. “We knew they’d come. That’s why we’re here.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

The pipe now abandoned, Alfie checked the barrel of his favourite handgun and reassured himself with the number. The only problem was the Shelby threat looming on the horizon and what looked like three cars, no doubt packed to the brim with Tommy’s henchmen.

“And you’re certain he will help us?” you asked.

“‘Course. Like I said before, right, Tommy’s nothin’ if not reliable.”

“That’s quite generous coming from you.”

“Just ‘cause he shot me doesn’t mean we ain’t kin now.”

“I am many things, dearest, but a Shelby isn’t one of them.”

“Ah, well, too bad. And too late to call the cavalry off, I reckon. If ya changed your mind…”

“That’s not what I meant.” It was your time to scoff. “These people are not my family. You are.”

On a rare occasion when Alfie Solomons found himself something close to emotional, three black Bentleys finally arrived at the quaint Margate cottage. You instinctively grabbed your husband’s arm again. He didn’t flinch, not even when you dug your nails into the skin, hard enough to draw blood.

“Right, gentlemen! And lady. What a lovely surprise, innit.” Alfie beckoned with his other hand, waving the gun about and leaving very little doubt as to the quickness of change in his intentions were the Shelbys not to play along. “Let me simply say: shalom… All right. Welcome. Yeah, that is the message for today, or so one might hope.”

What would undoubtedly be another inspired monologue had to wait, however. As soon as Tommy escorted Polly out of the car and her eyes met her daughter’s, Polly’s knees gave out. Tommy and Arthur caught her just in time and held her up on both sides.

“Anna!” Polly cried. “Oh dear God, it’s really you! Anna!”

You stood still like a statue, at which point even your husband turned to look at you with a mix of concern and fascination. You let go of his arm and focused on Tommy.

“Mr. Shelby. You brought an army this time. Am I to expect a shootout?”

As cold and unmoved as Tommy tried to be, it proved to be hard with a sobbing woman on his arm.

“Or am I to understand you’re here to kidnap me?” you pressed. “Please don’t say my chicken was that spectacular, I won’t believe it.”

“Anna.” Polly squeezed Tommy’s arm and took a step forward. Alfie uncocked his gun. You sighed and wished he hadn’t, since the entire Shelby ensemble now followed with the same.

“What the fuck is the matter with you, you fools! Put the bloody guns down!” Polly seethed and marched towards the house with a newfound purpose in her step. “Anna. Come down from there. You’re coming home with us.”

You looked at the woman you knew was your mother, though now only by name. Your heart didn’t know her and your head was too preoccupied to care.

“That might pose an issue,” you answered. “Because I am home.”

The next person that got out of the car, however, seemed to finally make you shake off your stony demeanour. You couldn’t quite help it, because his face was the first you could actually say was known to you.

“Michael!” you whispered and then rushed down from the porch before anyone could stop you. “Oh dear God, you’re alive!”

You fell into your brother’s steady embrace and though the force of it nearly made him stumble, he held you firmly and wouldn’t let go—not even if the devil himself tried to claim you both again.

The tearful reunion was so quiet that no one apart from you and Michael could know what words were exchanged. While the Shelbys weren’t exactly the type to interrupt, you could tell that Alfie was out of patience.

“Are we just about finished, then?” he inquired. “Forgive the interruption, yeah, but it’s gettin’ li’l too chilly for my taste.”

Polly took that opportunity to point her gun directly at Alfie’s head.

“Now then, madam,” Alfie chuckled and stood his ground, though he didn’t raise the gun he was holding. “I’d only ask ya to aim better than your nephew, all right, ‘cause I can’t exactly take no more of this.” He pointed to the injured side of his face. “Once was enough, yeah, so if you’re certain that’s what ya wanna do, I won’t stop ya.”

“Shut your mouth,” Polly hissed. “You shut your mouth!”

“Polly.” Tommy took a step towards them. His voice was full of warning and he ordered his men to stand down with a single wave of his hand. “Polly, think about what we’re doin’ here, all right? We came to get your daughter,” he turned to point at you, who now looked toward her husband with a horrified expression. “She’s safe now, Polly, we can take her home. There’s no need for violence, Pol, not today.”

“Like hell you will!” you protested. “Can you stop talking about me like I’m not even here?! No one’s taking me anywhere.”

“Now then, Tommy,” Alfie sighed. “There I was, mate, thinkin’ we had an understandin’, you an’ I. After all these years of friendship, right, you come to my house, guns blazin’, and with your lovely aunt no less, all in pursuit of justice I can’t exactly give, mate, ‘cause I ain’t the one who took Anna away in the first place. So…”

To everyone’s surprise Alfie turned his back to Polly and opened the front door as casually as one might when having a gun pointed at you turns into something of a daily occurrence.

“Might I offer you a drink then, uh, Polly, is it? Right, lemme just say that, yeah, I ain’t exactly one for close family ties, you see, that’s just not somethin’ I was brought up with…”

Alfie’s voice disappeared somewhat as he walked further into the house, completely ignoring the chaos on the porch. You tried to rush back towards the house and stomped on Michael’s foot with all your might when he wouldn’t let you go. Michael roared with pain and you took your chance to run, but this time it was Arthur who stopped you and who, all things considered, presented a much sturdier guard than your brother.

“You let me through,” you hissed.

“Nah, I don’t think so, luv. You’re comin’ with us.”

“Like hell I am!”

Polly, still stunned, turned towards her children and lowered her gun, creating an opportunity for Tommy to catch up with her and take it out of her hands.

“Not today,” he repeated softly. “There’ll be time for vengeance and there’ll be time for justice. But not here, Pol, not now. Arthur, let Anna pass.”

Polly shook her head and spat on the bluish tiles of the porch, thoroughly worn out and bleached by the seaside air. Only then did she notice the curious mosaic right before the front door and the gentle arch forming the words “lethe”.

“I’m not leaving without her, Tommy,” she warned.

“I know you’re not.”

Out of options and out of bullets, Polly crossed the threshold and she hoped the choice would truly erase the anguish from her memory—if only for a moment.

Alfie’s gambit must have been exactly that from the start, Tommy mused, because as soon as the rest of the Shelby clan entered the house, they were welcomed by the maid with a tea tray. Alfie, now comfortable in his usual armchair, gestured for his guests to sit.

Judging by his calm and calculated demeanour, Tommy doubted him and his family had been so unexpected. In fact, he just about acknowledged he had let himself be manipulated not once but twice in what was perhaps the strangest forty-eight hours in a long time.

“Right, now, we don’t know each other well so I don’t know exactly what everyone drinks…” Alfie waved at the maid dismissively and she started to serve the tea as if it was any other ordinary occasion. “Feel free to peruse the bar if you so prefer, Tommy, right, but not you.” Alfie settled his only seeing eye on Arthur, though the elder Shelby brother didn’t seem as prone to anger as Alfie remembered. That was almost disappointing.

You entered the house last, holding your brother’s hand. Michael smiled down at you fondly as if you hadn’t just caused him severe bodily harm. Tommy and Alfie both noted the scene, though neither exactly for the same reasons. Alfie looked just about done tolerating all that whispering between you and your brother and it seemed so was Tommy.

Though neither, exactly, for the same reasons.

“Right then,” Alfie announced. “Should we discuss the terms?”

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