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gloomwitchwrites · 4 months

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What Are We (1 of 4)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, possessive!Simon, touching (lots of it), kissing, romantic tension

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Simon wants an answer. And if you're going to reject him, you better look him in the eye when you say that you don't want him.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // what are we masterlist

You’re not looking in front of you. You’re not even glancing at your feet.

Your gaze is attached to the precarious stack of files in your hands, too focused on keeping them balanced and together to notice anything or anyone else around you.

Which is why you don’t see Simon until it’s too late.

His hand on your upper arm is a vice, and there is no escape from him. With a quick jerk, you’re rudely pulled in the opposite direction, and promptly shoved into a coat closet of an office. Some of the papers in your arms go flying, and you desperately reach for them, irritation burning in the back of your throat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you snap, after snagging the last wayward piece of paper.

Simon stands quiet in front of the closed door, arms crossed over his chest. Even now, when you’re annoyed with him, you can’t help but to rake your gaze over his muscled form, taking in every morsal. It’s a crime not to do so.

“What’s wrong with me?” mocks Simon slowly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Your eyebrows immediately rise toward your hairline in surprise. Then, just as quickly, your mind catches up to the situation. You know exactly what Simon is up to. He’s done this before, cornered you in a such a way as this as a means to break you, to make you bend until you completely break for him.

“No,” you state, shaking your head. “We’re not doing this. I know what you’re up to, Simon.” You press the stack of papers against your chest, crossing your arms over them protectively, one finger pointed in his direction in accusation.

Simon takes one unhurried step away from the door, and that singular move is entirely too close for comfort. “You don’t have the right to pull me aside whenever you want,” you continue. “To be domineering and push—” Simon takes another step and you nearly drop the stack of papers.

“Back off,” you bite, not entirely believing your own strength in the delivery.

“I deserve an answer.” Simon’s voice is not exactly a growl, but his timbre roots you to the spot.

“About what?” you stammer, already confused and unsure of where Simon is taking this.

“About what we are.”

“What?” Your voice breaks on the end, going a bit high.

“We’ve been on each other the last few months. Or did you forget?”

No. You haven’t. How could you? Just yesterday, you were a submissive puddle beneath him, allowing him everything.

Simon arches a single eyebrow and you immediately comply without thought. “Why would you ask me that?”

Your question is a cop-out. You know this. Simon knows it.

When Simon closes in, you do not move or reprimand him for doing so. He takes another step, this time into your space, and you are blocked from leaving this cramped enclosure.

“Did you think I’d forget, love?” croons Simon, and the sweetness of it is enough to flame the slumbering heat within you into a small fire. “That I didn’t hear you.” Simon leans in. “That I missed what you murmured while I was buried deep inside you?”

You swallow, salvia sticking in your throat as you clearly recall the sighed words of pleasure that dripped almost inaudibly from your lips.

I love you.

It was a mistake. A slip up.

Your voice is strained. Defeated. You’re not escaping from this. There is nowhere for you to run. “What do you want?”

“I want you to admit it.”

You glance away from Simon, hugging the papers close to your chest. “You’re mistaken.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his chest heave and his shoulders straighten. You turn toward the nearby desk, wanting to unburden the load in your arms. The moment the papers hit the desk, Simon grabs the lower half of your face, forcing your gaze back to him.

“Simon!”

He pins you against the desk, hands braced on the edge, his balaclava covered face inches away from yours.

“If you’re going to lie to me. If you’re going to reject me. You better look me in the eye when you do it.” You stare him down. Unmoving. “Don’t deny yourself,” he murmurs, one hand lightly squeezing your upper thigh.

Simon’s mouth, though covered by the balaclava, is dangerously close to yours. You feel his warm breath against your face as it filters through the fabric. It’s light, almost imperceptible. But it is there, and it makes you wanton, to close the distance.

“Why do you care so much?” you reply softly. “I thought you didn’t want more.”

Simon closes the distance even more, resting his forehead against your own. “Do you want me to recount all the ways that isn’t true?”

“Don’t be cruel.”

Simon presses his hips against you, showing you just how cruel he can be. “Then don’t play games.” From your face, Simon relocates his hand to the back of your neck. “Give me an answer. What are we?”

What are we?

As if you know. As if you’ve given the idea any life. But you have, haven’t you? You’ve imagined more than just simple meetings. And it isn’t like you and Simon get what you need out of your system and move on. There is always after. There is always before. There is always the comfort and the gentleness between all the rough, sharp edges.

What are we?

You give him the answer he’s seeking because maybe—just maybe—it’s what he desires too.

“I’m yours,” you breathe, and Simon’s sigh of relief is like a blooming flower. “I’m yours.”

“You’re mine,” repeats Simon, his mouth coming down on yours through the balaclava.

You don’t even care. This closeness is a balm to your soul. The teether you’re seeking.

Simon’s hands drop to your hips, lift you from the ground, and place you firmly on the edge of the desk. He slides between your legs, and your arms drape around his neck in anticipation of what comes next.

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morsalmostafanejad · 2 years

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#Morsal Mostafanejad

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corpsebasil · 1 year

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Hii!!!!! Can I request a nikolai x reader where she hates nikolai with every morsal in herself but she soon realises the reason she hates him is cause she is scared of liking him as she has had a bad experience with men in the past. And one day he traps her and asked her what he has done to make her hate him so much and she breaks down about what has happened and how she loves him so much. His smile, face, personality, his kind and caring attributes and they share a heartfelt kiss

Sí

Do You Love Me-> N.L.

The Lady that lives in the Grand Palace is immune to the Prince’s attention.

He wouldn’t. Leave you. Alone.

You didn’t like anything about him. Not his stupid face, or his ridiculous sense of humor, or his cocky attitude that made you want to vomit when you watched him turn on the charm for other women. You especially hated him when constantly you badgered you, seeking you out.

“Lady Y/N, darling!” You heard a cheerful voice call behind you as you worked on stitching up a tear in your nightgown. You flinched and poked yourself in the finger, cursing under your breath as you stuck the wounded digit into your mouth.

The prince entered uninvited; he had a habit of showing up in the middle of the day, bored after his state meetings around noon and desperate for entertainment. That was all you were, apparently. Entertainment.

“Your Highness.” You greeted tightly, glancing up from your perch on your window-seat, your knees tucked up to you chest. “And to what do I owe this grand displeasure?”

“I’m bored.” He sighed, dropping onto your couch. Of course he was. “I’ve missed you desperately.”

“You saw me at dinner yesterday.”

“You didn’t even speak to me.”

It was true. He’d been trying to get your attention for at least an hour. He’d even gone so far as to wave dramatically, drawing your annoyed eye slowly to him, only for him to flash you a beaming grin.

That was it.

He just wanted to smile at you.

“Maybe you should take the hint.”

You could almost hear his aggressive eye-roll. Nikolai swore he’d never rolled his eyes so much before he met you. Every since you’d come to the palace, a beautiful lady of high ranking, his breath had been ripped right out of his lungs. You’d been polite, at first. Sweet even. But as he spent more time with you, tried harder to be your friend and eventually court you, you grew cold.

And he didn’t know why.

“You look stunning today.” He tried again, smiling sweetly as you glanced up, your eyes meeting his.

“I know.”

“Glad you know. I love a confident woman.” When you ignored him, he pressed on. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“It’s definitely another day in Ravka.”

“I have a proposition. We could—”

“Not interested.”

“You didn’t even hear it.” He whined, and you looked up.

“Anywhere you are—” you began, giving him a firm stare, “—is where I do not want to be.” You returned to your stitching, smiling in amusement to yourself.

There was a weighted pause, and you glanced up. Nikolai’s expressed flickered for a moment, before smoothing into neutrality. He stood, wiping imaginary dust off of his trousers.

“Of course, well. Wouldn’t want to burden you.” He said crisply, and tugged something out of his pocket. He laid a piece of paper down on the couch and you were surprised to see the tips of his ears had gone a bit pink. “I bought tickets for that play I know you like. What is it? The one with the skull and the emo guy?”

“Hamlet?”

“Yeah, that one. We don’t have to sit together. Or—you can go, and I’ll stay here.” He smiled tightly and nodded, leaving your bedroom before you could say a thing.

That night, you did go to Hamlet. And it was amazing.

You got back to the palace feeling like you were walking on air; something about the theater made your heart sing, and you were surprised Nikolai knew anything about that.

You walked down to the hall to your rooms, clad in a splendid dress that swept across the floor, emerald jewelry dangling from your ears and neck. Gifts from Nikolai, obviously, but they were the best options you had, so of course you wore them. You weren’t vain enough to toss away emeralds.

You had barely gotten your handle on the doorknob when a guard stopped you, handing you a piece of folded stationary.

“Lady Y/L/N.” He greeted, nodding his head. He passed it to you wordlessly and you entered your rooms, breaking the seal as you walked. Then you paused, eyes flicking up to your coffee table.

A bouquet of spring flowers were in a grand vase on the table, as beautiful as any flowers you’d ever seen in your life. You were pleasantly surprised; you loved flowers. You smiled and moved over to smell them, then flicked open the note, eyes running across the elegant script.

‘Y/N,

I hope you enjoyed Hamlet. I certainly enjoyed sitting in my room all night pretending I was there. Imagine me holding a skull and whining about my dead friend. (Was it father? I don’t remember.) Anyways, I’m sure you looked magnificent. I heard from some servants that you were the prettiest Grisha they’d ever seen as they saw you leave.

I know they won’t, but I hope the flowers I sent will amount to even a fraction of your beauty. Maybe you’ll hate me a bit less tomorrow.

Yours,

Nikolai.’

Something tugged at your heart at those words, especially the last line. You grumbled to yourself and tossed the note into the bin, right on top of a multitude of others that he’d sent you. Some were long rants about what he’d did that day and requesting you write him back. Some were just one line, things like ‘you looked beautiful at dinner’ or ‘thinking about you by the way’.

It was annoying as hell and you didn’t know how to get through to him that you had no interest in the prince whatsoever. Sometimes it felt like he only chased after you because you were only woman he couldn’t have. You’d seen the way he flirted and had no interest in any of that.

Breakfast was a fun occasion, one in which you and a few of your Grisha friends sat at a small table in the tea-room, laughing over delicate sandwiches and tiny cakes. You had just popped a small slice of strawberry into your mouth, clad in your favorite green silk robe, when you glanced up.

Nikolai was entering the room, heading over to a group of men that were eating their own breakfasts. Soldiers, by the looks of them, all in uniform and ridiculously attractive. Your eyes tracked him, keeping watch on his movements as he approached the soldiers. They stood and laughed, grinning as they clapped him on the back and ushered him into a chair, their boyish voices loud and carrying.

Nikolai’s eyes darted to yours, as if magnetized, and you glanced away.

“He’s so handsome.” Your friend Marley sighed, propping her chin on a hand as she stared at the prince.

“He’s average at best.” You countered, following her gaze. “I mean really? Blondes?”

“I’m more of a brunet loving girl myself.” Lina said, pointing her fork at you. “I agree with Y/N. But he is rather handsome. I think he’d be my exception.”

The fourth girl at the table, Joanna, simply wrinkled her nose. She was into women, and had no interest in this line of conversation.

“He’s a guy. Who cares.”

“Y/N..” Marley purred, and you did not like her tone one bit. “I heard Nikolai got you invitations to the play last night.” She grinned. “And you went. Did you guys snuggle in the carriage the whole time?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“He didn’t go.” You said calmly, looping one leg over the other knee.

“What?” Both Marley and Lina exclaimed, and even Joanna looked surprised.

“Why not?” Marley asked, voice rising an octave.

“I didn’t want him there.”

“But—but he’s the prince.”

“Only you would find a way to turn down the most ridiculously high-ranking bachelor in the kingdom.” Lina grumbled.

“She’s a duchess in her own right.” Joanna argued, tucking a piece of her dark, shoulder length hair behind an ear. “Just because he’s a prince—”

“But he’s a prince!” Marley told you, eyes wide, and her voice carried a bit too loud. You cringed as the soldier’s table quieted down a fraction, then erupted into male laughter. Marley blushed.

“Go ahead and let all of Ravka know what we’re talking about.” Joanna grumbled, wiping her hands and standing up. “I’ve got to meet up with Rebecca. See you ladies later.” She beamed, wiggling her fingers at the three of you before sweeping out of the room, her cream-silk robe billowing behind her.

You shot Marley daggers with your eyes and the honey-blonde girl ducked her head, smiling to herself.

“I’m just saying.” Lina whispered, voice much lower now. “You guys need to come to my room around ten. Trust me.”

“Will there be fireworks? Copious amounts of kittens?” You asked drily. “Because that’s the only thing that’s going to interrupt the novel I’m reading.”

“If it’s one of those filthy novels I know you read, then you’ll like it.”

You wrinkled your nose.

“What?”

“Geez, Y/N, lighten up. Just come.” The black haired beauty groaned, her smooth tan arms crossing onto the table. “Pleaaaase?”

You glanced between the two girls, back and forth, then nodded.

“Fine.”

They both squeaked rather loudly, again too loud, and against your better judgement your eyes slid over to Nikolai. He was watching you, a soft smile on his face, and you felt your cheeks flush.

“See you then.” You said and abruptly stood, fastening your robe tighter around you.

And as you left the room, you could’ve sworn you felt his eyes tracking you the entire way out.

“Oh my god.” You scoffed, eyes wide as you yanked the current shut. “You didn’t tell me we were going to perve.”

“Just look at them.” Marley giggled, face practically glued to the window.

The guards were on their morning run, which included every soldier at breakfast, all shirtless and jogging across the front lawn, down the back trails to the woods. Which included, to your dismay, Nikolai.

Your mouth went slightly dry.

He was more ripped than half the men around him, golden skin glistening with sweat as he kept up with the very front of the pack. You were alarmed to see he was laughing, whereas some of the men behind him were red-faced and breathing hard.

“Does he—” you stopped yourself. “Do they always run at this time?”

“Mhmm.” Lina said, smiling coyly. “Right under my window. Makes for a lovely after breakfast treat.”

“You two are horrible.” You said, but a smile was pulling at your mouth. Your eyes went back to Nikolai, watching his back muscles flex as he ran ahead, chasing after the man in the very front as they rounded a corner. You tried not to laugh when the two began racing each other, full out sprinting for the lead while the others kept steady pace behind them.

“Ask it.” Lina demanded, and you raised your brow. “Ask what you want to ask.”

“I don’t—”

“Ask me you coward!”

“Fine. Does the prince always run with them?”

Marley and Lina exchanged looks.

“He served in the military…you know that, right? Of course he trains with them.”

You blinked. You’d always thought he was a pompous flirt. You had no idea he was a soldier. Nor that he was packing that much muscle under his outfits of state.

“I um. I didn’t know.” You admitted, biting your bottom lip. “How…strange.”

“He’s so brave.” Marley swooned, slumping dramatically against the window. “I would literally kill to be you. Kill.”

“No threats.” Lina giggled, poking Marley. “Anyways. They’ll come back around in about ten minutes. Let me grab my binoculars.”

You rolled your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your friends would be the death of you.

You left Lina’s room, face flushed from laughing. You indeed had ended up using the binoculars at one point after much peer pressure, and the view was…well… You felt immensely creepy after about two seconds and tossed them back to her, saying that ladies of your stations shouldn’t bend to such inappropriate behavior.

So you walked down the hallway, towards the gardens, eager to get some fresh air when—when—

He didn’t see you at first, eyes closed as he drank from a water bottle, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. A hand-towel was looped around his neck, his bare chest glistening with sweat and—

“Y/N?” He called out, and your eyes snapped to his face. You hadn’t realized you’d frozen in place, ogling him like a damn lunatic. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.” You squeaked, raising your eyebrows as if to ask, what’s it to you? “Why are you topless? Decided to be a little sluttier than usual?”

“Slutty?” He scoffed, moving over to you as he screwed the cap on his bottle, an amused glint in his eyes. His teeth flashed in a grin as he stood in front of you and he was so tall up close you had to tilt your head up. “How am I slutty?”

“Running around flirting with everyone.” You said, raising a finger as if to tick off the reasons. “Sleeping with anything with a pulse. Oh—” you tapped your chin, pretending to think. “—and weren’t you caught at that orgy party last week? Everyone heard about it.”

Nikolai’s smile grew lazy and he tilted his head, his blonde hair curling a bit with the moisture of his sweat. His eyes scanned your face, then grew mischievous.

“Well.” He started, wiping his face off with his towel. “Since you’re so interested in my sex life, Lady Y/N, I’ll have you know I haven’t had sex in over a year.” You flushed and raised a hand for him to stop, but he continued. “I’m flirtatious by nature, sure. But you must know by now the only woman I want is you.” He leaned in closer, chills spreading across your body as his voice brushed the skin of your neck. “By the way, sweetheart? Lina’s windows are see-through.”

When he nipped your ear you jolted, lurching away with a flushed face, and his laugh echoed down the hallway as he walked past you, headed to take a shower.

“Nice binoculars by the way!” He called over a shoulder, and you wanted to kill Lina.

You sat in your rooms. You paced. You groaned into your pillow and sat up, crossing your arms over your chest. You hated him. You hated him. And yet the ghost of his teeth still warmed your ear, and his voice—and his body, and—

No. Absolutely not.

You let out an annoyed sound and rubbed your eyes, standing up to wrap your robe around yourself as you paced some more. You’d had experiences with princes. Arrogant assholes that wrung you out like a towel and left you to dry.

Prince Achileas was the last straw, a pompous ass that had made you feel completely in love. All until you found him mid-fuck with one of the servants, an affair you discovered had gone on for a long time. Possibly during your entire courtship.

You would not make that mistake again, ever. You would marry a nice, non royal, totally normal boy who—

A knock.

“Who is it?” You called after a beat, and the door opened a crack.

“May I walk you to dinner?” Nikolai asked, sticking his head in the door, and your patience was at its wits end, images of Achileas still haunting your thoughts.

“My god cant you just—” you bit your tongue hard enough to draw blood and his eyebrows knit together.

“Can I what?”

“Fuck off and leave me alone?” You snapped, but immediately regretted it when a wounded look crossed his handsome face. He opened the door a fraction wider, leaning against the frame.

“What did I do to you, Y/N?” He asked, voice soft but strained. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“Because!” You fought for words, a flush rising in your cheeks. “Because you annoy the shit out of me. You chase after me like a damn lap dog. What do I have to do to get through to you?”

He flinched like you’d slapped him, then held his hands up in surrender. You’d never seen him look so hurt; every rejection, every rude comment, was always swept under the rug as he tried harder and harder.

Now he was done.

“Alright.” He said, and it sounded like his words had to travel over a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry. I apologize for following you around, and for trying to love you. I’m sincerely sorry.” Nikolai closed the door before you could respond, a soft click that made you wish he’d slammed it.

You were such an idiot.

Because you’d been lying to yourself. You knew, somehow, that he was genuine. That he kept trying because beyond your icy exterior, he saw something in you he longed for. And you, deep down, though you didn’t want to admit it—had never admitted it—had cared for the prince for quite some time now.

Fighting the ache in your throat you sat on your couch, pulling your knees to your chest, and decided not to go to dinner.

A week passed and you’d been watching, waiting, for him to find a new girl to chase. But he didn’t. In fact, he seemed to be a dimmer version of himself. He only spoke to his fellow soldiers, and avoided your presence.

It all came to a head at the nearest ball, one you were forced to attend by your friends, you eyes tracking Nikolai’s figure as he leaned against the wall, completely ignoring the party. You’d been following him with your stare all night, the hurtful words you’d said to him seared into your mind.

“What’s wrong with him?” Lina asked you, nudging your arm. “He’s been going on night runs alone, lately. Never used to do that.”

“I don’t know.” You lied, though your heart ached as you watched him.

Your eyes met and you saw him take a deep breath, his brow furrowing as you made eye-contact. You hoped he could see your pleading expression and apparently he did, because he pushed off the wall and headed in your direction.

Your stomach churned.

“Shit.” Marley squeaked, snatching Lina’s arm and dragging you away as the prince neared you, stopping a foot away.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked, tone flat, and he was surprised by the immediate ‘no’ that left you. “No?”

“Are you?” You shot back, and he gave you a sad smile.

“No.” He told you, tilting his head. “You’ve been watching me. Making sure I leave you alone?”

“Nikolai—” You stopped, pained, and blinked up at him. “I’m sorry.” Your voice lowered and you felt ashamed at his stunned expression. “I’m really, really sorry.”

You were relieved when he didn’t make you work for his forgiveness; his face relaxed, a hesitant smile on his mouth.

“Y/N,” he sighed, blinking up at the ceiling. “I appreciate your apology. But if you truly do not want me to pursue you, I won’t.” You stared, but then he offered you his hand. “May we dance?”

You nodded wordlessly, ignoring the tightness in your chest, and allowed him to lead you out onto the floor. His hand found your waist, pulling you close, and you realized this was the most he’d ever touched you. His fingers locked with your own and you caught your breath.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmured a minute into the dance, then cringed, like he wished he hadn’t said it. You closed your eyes, absorbing the feel of his hands. When he spun you and pulled you back in, he tugged you closer than you were before.

You took a shaking breath at the scent of him, and the warmth of him, and you remembered his words. Sorry for trying to love you. You’d never been truly loved by any man, only hurt, and it was hard to believe that Nikolai, the kindest, most generous man you’d ever met, could love you.

“I’m sorry.” You told him again, and his grip on you tightened. He tilted his face closer to yours to listen as you spoke, his blue eyes gentle. “It’s just—I’ve never—” you swallowed. “I’ve never been treated…right. Loved. And I didn’t trust you at first. It was easier to push you away.”

He sighed and shook his head.

“I’d have given you the world, Y/N.” He said, expression pained. “Anything you wanted. All of me.” He glanced down, eyes meeting yours. “I would’ve been yours.”

Would’ve.

The past tense isn’t lost on you and you pulled away, feeling stupid, and sad, and lonely and—and what had you expected? Him to still want you after what you’d said? You didn’t realize a tear of grief and self-hatred had slipped down your face until he cupped your cheeks, a low noise caught in his throat as his forehead touched your own.

“My sweet angel.” He murmured, tilting your face up. “I like you better without your claws.”

You didn’t care if this was inappropriate, didn’t care about onlookers, not when he kissed your brow softly, his smile weak when he pulled back. He gave you a nod that broke your heart and moved away, disappearing into the crowd.

You left the party.

Nikolai found you later, around midnight, sitting on the ground with your back against a stone bench in the garden. It was raining, a light sprinkle, but you’d been out here so long staring at nothing that your hair and dress were wet. You hugged your knees, chin propped on one leg, lost in thought.

“Lady Y/L/N?” The prince called, and you cringed at the formality. You didn’t turn, though, only stayed still as he sat beside you, blond hair growing damp. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You swallowed the knot in your throat before speaking.

“Are you sending me home?” You asked, voice strained as you stared ahead. The fear had began to plague you the moment you’d left the party. Without the prince’s affection, would he let you stay?

“What?” Nikolai demanded. When you only sniffled he turned your chin with his hand, forcing you to look at him. “Why would I—Saints, no, Y/N.”

“But you said you—you said would’ve. I ruined everything.”

“Do you love me?”

“I’m scared Nik, I’m scared to hurt you again—”

“Do you love me?”

“—I’m scared of being hurt—”

“Y/N.” He gripped your chin tighter. “Do you love me?”

“Fuck. Yes okay? I do and I cant stop and—”

Faster than you could blink he lunged into you, crushing your mouth to his. You swayed from the impact and collapsed against the wet grass, his body dropping onto yours. Your lips separated and you laughed, his eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them.

“God, say it out loud.” He told you, calming his amusement to kiss your cheek and temple. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.” You said with a soft smile, and he kissed you again.

SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY LOL

#shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #wattpad #nikolai x reader #shadow and bone imagine #fluff #six of crows #angst #Sturmhond

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yourheartandmind · 1 year

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Naps

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: The one where Wednesday tells you that you snored.

A Collection of Wednesday Opening Up

The soft, methodical clicks of a typewriter filled the room, a comfortable ambience greeting you as you awoke from your nap. Your girlfriend was in her usual spot at her desk, clicking away on her typewriter - no doubt lost in a world of her own, oblivious to your waking form.

Pushing yourself up from the bed, you rubbed your eyes from sleep, frowning as you realized you had fallen asleep midway through your homework assignment. Thing, who was for whatever reason now on the floor, seemed to have also fallen asleep around the same time as you, evidenced by the the pencil still held loosely in his grip. From the clock that sat on the far side of the room, and the giant pile of balled up manuscripts beside Wednesday, you figured that you must have been asleep for quite a while.

As if to confirm your suspicion, the consistent clicks of Wednesday's typewriter suddenly stop.

"Welcome back, I was wondering when you were going to wake."

Looking across the room to your girlfriend, you saw her previous form now turned around to look at you. Her gaze was as emotionless as always, but if you were squint ever so slightly and sprinkle a healthy dose of potential delusion too, you figured you could find a hint of worry behind her gaze too.

Sending her a sheepish grin, you ran your fingers absentmindedly across the marks left from your nap, "Yeah, sorry. I was completely knocked out."

Not missing a beat, the girl nodded in agreement, "I know. I heard you snoring."

Her words took a second to sink in. When it did, you felt every morsal of your being burn with sudden embarrassment.

"What?"

"Your snores were very hard to miss." She elaborate, misinterpeting your reaction.

Falling backwards into your bed, you let yourself sink in as far as you could, wondering if the mattress could just swallow you up and shield you away from facing this reality.

"Oh my god, why did you have to tell me that." You grumbled into your pillow, hoping the quilted fabric would somehow gift you the eternal bliss of an early death.

Displaying a surprising level awareness, Wednesday caught onto your embarrassment, "There's nothing wrong with snoring. In fact, when I was five, my uncle snored so loudly he-"

"Oh!" You groaned in exasperation. Having met the said uncle once before, you were not entirely pleased to have the comparison drawn.

"My father...?" Wednesday tried instead, hoping that this attempt would fare better.

"Ah!" You groaned even louder.

"Brother!" She provided again with new enthusiasm, sure she had gotten it right this time.

You just wished for the suffering to end.

Narrowing her eyes, Wednesday pondered in thought for a brief second, "Perhaps... I should drop the comparison in its entirety instead."

Lifting your arm up, you just gave her a solitude thumbs up.

Far from your sight Wednesday turned back to her typewriter, clicking a few more things onto her type writer.

Perhaps she'll keep the fact that you had been drooling too, to herself for now.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams #wednesday addams fluff #wednesday addams x y/n

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void-ink-studios · 24 days

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Day 8: Giant Isopod

It had been a long time since my first expedition into the belly of the ocean, where no light can touch the floor. Every time, I am caught off guard by the overwhelming presence of the darkness, even with our vessel's light fixtures. Our goal is to catalog and confirm new species that trawling nets have managed to surface. Today, we spotted the first on our list, a scuttling, insect like thing. We have dubbed it the Abyssal Centipede, and we watched it slowly search the barren sea floor for a morsal. I decided to name her Septa, and I can't help but wonder what she might make of us.

[Prompt List]

[Previous] - Day 7: Flying Fish

[Next] - Day 9: Lanternfish

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Like the art? Please Reblog!

Interested in a Commission? Check out my post HERE!

Did you know I have a Ko-Fi? Check it out HERE!

#my art #digital art #mermay #mermay 2024 #mermay day 8 #fantasy #fantasy worldbuilding #worldbuilding art #mermaid #mermaid art #giant isopod

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dailyashleighraichu · 11 months

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In light of this hell, I bring a small morsal of LightningRod, as a treat.

OG Under the cut

#Ashleigh's Art #pokemon ask blog #daily pokemon #filler #doodle #ask-elliotgang #pikachu #joulepikachu #elliotpikachu #i know they arent lesbians but it was just such Them energy that I had to

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kit-williams · 3 months

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Try new things

Male Lead: Konrad Curze Female Lead: Gloria Curze Universe/AU: Warhammer 40k/D&D AU Canon Status: 100% Canon

Note: Listened to the Mind Electric while writing it to try and get into Konrad's kinda sporadic way of thinking and half insane way of thinking. Also I know this is another one that is kinda stretching the idea of the prompt but its Konrad Curze.

Konrad was forced to try new things since day one of his introduction to this new world. How to try and use his powers effectively... working in tandem with the angel of the daylight; Sanguinius. He worked with the red sorcerer to hone it further... he was forced to try new things like bond and be happy... happiness was something akin to a xeno for Konrad... unknowable and hard to understand from a human perspective.

He was forced to try new things... new foods along with the rest of his brothers... new tactics of fear... there were new ways to make him laugh genuinely... new companions... new species to learn how to make them scream... new monsters to slay... yet injustices were still the same even if it was in a different coat of paint. They walked across the globe and saw each thing they needed to see... who knows how much time passed for them... a year? A hundred years? It didn't matter to Konrad as the visions were different and he had to get use to it.

Sanguinius just grinned at him and gave a small laugh as he knew his beloved brother saw his own death for the longest time... and how he was handling it now being uncertain once again. Konrad clung to those words that he spoke... and he allowed himself to willingly try these new things. One of those things came in the form of a small mortal woman.

He was a beast... Konrad knew he was one since day one and once again like a beast being given an ounce of a pleasant feeling his jaws snapped shut around her throat. Yet she stayed with that warm and loving smile that spoke of pain that dug into her skin like hooks and pulled her skin back unable to move beyond that trauma or the skin so utterly warped by it she hasn't realized that the hook on the skin unlatched so long ago. But he embraced her tightly as he let go of her fictitious throat leaving a piece of him behind and she treasures it.

They were a broken pair and this was the hardest thing for him to embrace and try as none of his brothers... not even Corvus... knew what morsal he had latched his jaws around and she was oblivious of the predator that she had willingly entered the jaws of. But she could bite back... as the first thing he was introduced by her was such the sweetness that sex could hold... then the roughness... the way she taught him how to dig his claws into her without killing her. She held the leash at first till he understood what was going on.

She held him tightly as his teeth dug into her skin as old scars that made her eyes glaze over when he touched them were replaced with scars left behind by him in the midst of such dizzying moments of ecstasy. Blood brushed their tongues during these moments as for brief moments they were one and that frightened Konrad but he embraced such a new sensation more and more and learned to love the moments that they couldn't tell where she ended and he began until they were a laughing mess of limbs.

He learned to laugh more... he embraced the sensation of joy... the way he pulled her close as the two of them danced at the festival of the god eye... Konrad would smile more even had such a lighter personality whenever he would meet up with the rest of his brothers by this point Corvus meeting her... his Gloria.

He was thrust into the concept and idea of actually being a father to a son that was his by blood... by his own gamete mixed with her own gamete to from a zygote. Talos was his son by so much more then his geneseed as the black eyed child grinned up at him with so much love that Konrad had to learn to understand. But however it was easier for him to accept the unquestioned and unconditional love his small child held for him then a psychoaugmented soldier.

He watched Talos' turn from a awkward small blonde boy to a willowy black haired and black eyed assassin following in his footsteps as the madness of the eighth continued through his blood but he watched as his dearest Gloria temper the madness that ran through the Cruze bloodline ... as while Talos held the same madness as he did... Konrad knew it wouldn't overwhelm Talos like it did for him.

"Why did you name him Talos." Gloria asks looking up at him as her hair is still wildly out of place... breathlessly staring up at him with love and devotion in her eyes that she willingly gives him... he blinks as he was lost in the future as still Talos lays in his crib still unable to walk or talk but still smiled up at him with a toothless grin.

Konrad wiped the stubble on his chin as he warmly and abet wickedly at his dear wife. A bad habit he would learn to overcome eventually. "There was one of my gene sons that decided to peruse my killer after my death for vengeance... perhaps in a sense of love and devotion as well... but he would get it." Konrad says laying down next to her. "But... why I named our baby Talos... I originally wanted his name to either be Jago... or Sheng... but the glimpses of the future I foresaw... no what I saw when I called him Talos was there was blood but he was also genuinely happy. He could smile and laugh and... that's what I think you would want." He says rolling to the side grabbing her into his arms and just holding her tightly as black and blonde strands of hair mingled together.

"Well maybe the next child you can name after Jago or Sheng." She says with a smile as he just closes his eyes holding her close. There guilt broiled under his skin... this was something new he had been holding for so many years... he felt a guilt over what he had done during horus' uprising... mending that broken bridge with Vulkan... feeling the weighted guilt on his shoulders that he knew his legion was falling apart at this very moment or was already in shambles... he was a terrible father and no amount of Gloria soothing his fears... he had a legion's worth of children both living and dead who were the product of his awful parenting.

And this is where Gloria, once again in her radiance, soothed his withered soul... soothed his worries as he was willing to try something new... he was willing to try to be a good father to his son Talos.

Fluffuary Tag List: @bispecsual @the-californicationist @egrets-not-regrets @libraryshadow @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

#fluffuary #fluffuary2024 #warhammer 40k #d&d #d&d au #warhammer 40k au #konrad curze #night lords #primarch #primarch x oc #x oc #oc: Gloria Curze

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wallflowers-garden · 9 months

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the thrawn fandom is beyond starving rn…

mr. filoni… if you could so kind as to… give us a mere MORSAL… we would be greatful

#star wars #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #star wars rebels #ahsoka tano #ahsoka #ahsoka show #star wars ahsoka #sabine wren #hera syndulla #anakin skywalker #star wars the clone wars #eli vanto #ezra bridger #dave filoni

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keketle · 2 years

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clown mommy with her clown wife hand

morsal - @manageablemisery

#myart #fantroll #morsal

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vote-gaara · 8 months

Note

when his medicine was rejected and just anytime he was shut out, do you think he was embarrassed or just downright sad

By his medicine being rejected, I am assuming you mean during his childhood, when that young girl slammed the door in Gaara's face after he tried apologizing (Chapter 130, I think?).

I don't think Gaara was sad, I think he was downright traumatized. Being rejected by your peers is registered in the brain the same way as legitimately getting hurt (something that Yashamaru knew well...I headcanon this is because he was a medical-nin, but also because he was being philosophical), and we all know that sometimes things that really hurt do cause trauma, and they follow us for a very very long time.

I think it's worse for Gaara, though, because not only was he severely isolated from others, he couldn't really understand why people hated him so much. Sure, there's the whole jinchuriki label, but to Gaara he didn't understand why he had to be so different from everyone else because of the circumstances in which he was born. Instead, he was seeing life through the lens of his own internal monologue - the one that desperately wanted friends and who didn't mean to hurt anyone - and so being rejected by his peers hurt like hell because he didn't understand what he was doing wrong. It's akin to someone asking you to make a choice about something and the only feedback they offer you is to hit you when you pick the wrong answer; they don't care about why you made the decision, they just dueled out their lashings (spoiler alert: In this case, all of Gaara's choices were wrong answers cause the game was rigged for him from the start).

That's the type of deeply rooted emotional damage that bites into every fiber of your being; your heart, your bones, your muscles...your very soul. It's something that you don't really come back from, and although Gaara did reform himself completely after his battle with Naruto, I don't think he will ever fully be healed from his experiences.

There are some injuries that, despite having happened years ago, turn into chronic pain, and I think that's a good analogy for Gaara's mental state. He just copes, honestly.

Now as for him being embarrassed....Hmmm....I actually headcanon that Gaara doesn't feel a whole lot of embarrassment, especially in his evil phase.

You can't really feel embarrassed when you truly don't care what other people think, and during his "kill everyone" phase, what purpose would embarrassment really serve? Not much.

(And some of the things he said back then were so cringy and he uttered them without even a morsal of reservation. Like I love Gaara through and through, but maaan.)

I think that even current day Gaara doesn't feel much embarrassment. Mostly he's too proper, stoic and reclusive to encounter the emotion often. Rather, his emotions are firmly rooted in shame.

And it's the shame haunts him.

#gaara

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gloomwitchwrites · 5 months

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Snowberries & Wolf Teeth

Vilkas x Farkas x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, kissing, F/M/M, brief mentions of Vilkas & Farkas’ beast forms, oral sex (female & male receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), multiple creampie, breeding, multiple positions, possessive behavior, alcohol, brief aftercare

Word Count: 3.4k

At the New Life Festival during Evening Star, the Wolf Twins make their claim on you.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

Whiterun is bathed in luminous light.

Masser and Secunda are large in the night sky. Along with the two moons is an aurora of blue and green which only adds to the lights of the festival. Makeshift lamps line the streets of Whiterun. From them hang wreaths made of pine and snowberries. It’s true winter now. There is an intense chill in the air, and many within Whiterun predict that the first snowfall of the year will arrive any day.

Tonight, the citizens of Whiterun celebrate the New Light Festival. Typically, one of the major cities across Skyrim host the festival, especially where the Empire has a firm hold. Solitude is the most popular place to hold it, and while you’ve only been to the city a few times in your life, you’ve never gone during the New Light Festival.

This year, Whiterun is celebrating on its own, and the Companions are graciously allowing the festivities to be held in their mead hall, Jorrvaskr. You’ve been inside before, mostly to make an excuse to talk to Farkas or Vilkas. They both shower you with affection, and neither seems upset that the other chases after you. Sometimes, they actively pursue you together.

Will you eventually have to choose? Or are they willing to share? Is that even an acceptable outcome for either of them?

You move with the growing crowd toward Jorrvaskr. The large double doors are wide open, and from within the mead hall comes music and the rich scent of roasting meat. Many people linger around the Gildergreen or on the steps outside Jorrvaskr. Everyone is dressed in festive attire and groups of children chase each other, weaving through the crowd, giggling as they go.

As you enter Jorrvaskr, you’re immediately hit with a wall of warmth. Below, the firepit is blazing. Over it is roasting venison, chicken, and duck. Several members of the Companions stand around it, keeping an eye on the roasting meat. The doors to the courtyard are also open and the crowd spills out toward the Skyforge.

You walk along the interior wall of the mead hall, heading for the large barrels that contain mead. When you take your first sip, your body immediately warms from the bite of the alcohol. After grabbing a drink, you head for the sweets, selecting a tart to snack on while you wait for some of the meat to come off the fire.

The tart is coated with dusting sugar and syrup. It sticks to your fingers, and you’re constantly sucking on them to try and consume every sugary morsal.

From the back doors that lead out into the courtyard, you notice couples dancing. You smile, watching them move together in unison, chewing slowly on the tart as you watch them.

“Are you wanting to dance?”

You jump at the voice in your ear. Turning sharply, you laugh aloud as you realize who it is.

“You startled me, Vilkas.”

“My apologies,” he replies, retreating slightly.

While he wears his signature wolf armor, it’s all clean and polished to an immaculate shine. Over his right shoulder hangs a cloak of black. His black hair is slicked back and styled nicely. Vilkas is dressed for the occasion. He’s always been handsome to you, but this only highlights how attractive he is.

“Would you still like a dance?” he asks, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Could I have several?” you tease, delicately licking some of the sugary power off your thumb.

“As many as you wish,” he agrees, reaching out to snag your wrist. Vilkas brings your hand to his mouth, and he licks up a stray drop of syrup.

You finish the tart and mead quickly, handing off the empty mug to be cleaned. Then you slide your hand in Vilkas’, the two of you heading for the dancers. While a warrior, Vilkas does not step on your feet or mess up. He knows all the traditional dances of Skyrim, leading you through them so naturally it’s startling.

By the end of the third dance, you’re clutching your chest, a little winded but happy. His face is slightly flushed but he’s grinning widely, and you desperately wish to kiss him.

“A drink?” asks Vilkas, offering his hand.

“Please.” You slide your hand into his, and Vilkas escorts you to the doors of the mead hall.

With drinks in hand, you and Vilkas head for a quiet corner away from everyone else. You lean against the wall and Vilkas stands with his back to the room, creating a private cocoon. It’s intimate, and the closeness brings heat to your cheeks that quickly radiates outward to your limbs.

“I’ve been looking for the two of you.”

Farkas appears from behind Vilkas. He stands to Vilkas’ left, adding an extension to the cocoon. He is dressed nearly identical to Vilkas, except his hair which is loose and wild around his head. Farkas grins and you instantly melt.

Maybe it’s the mead, but you have a distinct feeling that cannot be the case. They always make every part of you tingle, usually in the most secret places, and this stepping around what you really want is starting to eat away at you. You want them, and you might as well go for it.

“It’s a little loud in here,” you reply. “Is there somewhere else we could go?” You purposefully lean into Vilkas while placing your hand on Farkas’ chest.

They both perk up. At first, they’re slightly confused, but they both realize exactly what you mean rather quickly. Vilkas’ grin is knowing and sultry, but Farkas blushes hard as he suddenly understands what you’re implying.

“This way,” nods Vilkas in the direction of the nearest set of stairs. They lead downward toward Jorrvaskr’s living quarters.

Glancing over his shoulder, Vilkas observes the room before placing his hand on your upper arm to steer you toward the stairs. Farkas follows too, creating a buffer so no one notices that you’re pressed in between them.

As Vilkas approaches the door, he places a hand against the wood, pushing it open enough for you to slip inside first. Farkas follows behind, and then Vilkas steps in behind his brother. When the door is in place, it completely shuts out the noise from the party.

It’s incredibly quiet down here. So much so that it takes a moment for you to realize that the three of you are not entirely alone. From the doorway in front of you leading into a sleeping area, you distinctly hear low moans of pleasure and the slap of skin against skin.

You step back and bump into Vilkas. His hand is on your waist, sliding over your lower back to eagerly grip your hip.

“Is that what you’re wanting? With us?” he whispers against your ear.

Yes. You’ve wanted it for weeks now.

“Is that okay?” you respond, wanting to make sure that they both agree to this.

Vilkas glances at his brother and Farkas nods in agreement. “We accept this.”

“Oh,” is all you say, as the couple just across the hall grow louder in volume.

Are you surprised by this? Not really, and yet you are. Did you fear rejection or even disinterest? Yes, but even that seems false. What reason have either of them given to make you suspect that they didn’t want you?

Vilkas’ hand on your waist is an anchor. His fingers dig into your hip as he pushes forward, guiding you away and down the hall. Farkas stands close enough that his arm brushes against yours, but he does not put his hands on you. It isn’t until the three of you turn down a short hall and enter a small bedroom that Farkas reaches out to touch.

Their hands are everywhere the moment the door to the little bedroom is shut. Vilkas is grabbing at your hips and waist, pulling you toward him while Farkas lightly tugs on your hair, arching your neck, exposing your throat for his mouth to place kisses on. Farkas begins at the hollow of your throat and works upward until he finds your lips.

The kiss is deep. Blistering. A demand.

When he breaks away, you’re breathless, wanting more of him. But Vilkas fills that void, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling you in to discover your taste. While Vilkas learns your mouth, Farkas’s hands roam over your back and sides, eventually settling on the curve of your ass. He squeezes through the fabric, and then gives it a light slap that causes your hips to jerk forward and into Vilkas.

Vilkas breaks away and laughs softly, one hand reaching up to unclasp the cloak hanging over his shoulder. He gently tosses it onto a nearby stool. Farkas follows suit, the two of them slowly undoing hooks and clasps to loosen their armor.

“Which part should we remove from you first?” asks Vilkas in a sultry purr. His gaze roams over your body, and his heated gaze leaves you feeling exposed.

“Everything should go,” answers Farkas as he reaches up to play with the adornments of threaded dried snowberries in your hair. “But these should stay. I like them.”

Vilkas nods. “I agree.” His chest plate falls away and he sets it down near the door.

The two of them are taking their time, watching you watch them. It’s a drawn-out dance. An anticipation.

When Farkas’ hands fall on your shoulders, you nearly jump in surprise. But he is entirely gentle when those fingers slip under the fabric to push it over and down your shoulders. Your dress surrenders to him, stopping briefly at your hips before completely falling to the floor at your feet. You are just as bare as they are.

The moment your nakedness is revealed, Vilkas’ nostrils flare like he’s inhaling your scent. His hands, which are at his sides, clench and unclench. All the while, Farkas’ hands are on your body, touching and caressing in soft strokes that chip away at your autonomy. They make you compliant and weak. Leaning back against him, you admire Vilkas’ muscled form.

He stalks forward, and every muscle ripples as he walks. When he’s close enough you reach out to touch him at the same moment he touches you. There is a hand around your throat, but you’re not sure which one it is.

Vilkas’ head tilts downward, his nose brushing your cheek as his lips meet yours. The sound he makes in his throat is low and feral. Hungry. Everything is tense, and the hands that touch you only tighten as if you’ll try to dart away like a frightened doe.

But you won’t run. Not from them.

Vilkas breaks the kiss and cups the sides your face in both of his hands. Those pale eyes of his are piercing, serrated and sharp like a blade. “Do you want this? Like we want this?” His gaze darts over your face, seeking confirmation.

You nod. “Yes. Please. I want—need, the both of you.”

Farkas’ hand slides over your stomach and between your legs. You gasp when his fingers run through your slickness. Using his index and middle finger, he parts your sex, and the moment he does, the two of them close their eyes, inhaling deeply.

There is something deeply primal about what they’ve just done. When they open their eyes there are small swirls of yellow there that weren’t there before. Vilkas’ lips part slightly, and you notice a sharpness to his canines.

“On the bed,” he murmurs. “Legs open.”

Farkas relinquishes his hold on you but Vilkas is right there, walking with you, sliding his hands up your legs once you fall back onto the bed and open them wide. His hovers between them only a moment before his head dips and his tongue slides over your sex.

It is a shock of sensation, one that ripples up to the crown of your head and to the tips of your toes. Vilkas feasts, alternating between licking, sucking, and kissing, seeking out what will make you come undone.

The bed dips near your head. Farkas is there, his hand sliding under your head to tangle in your hair. He is careful of the adornments, guiding you up onto your elbows. You know what he wants, and you obediently open your mouth, presenting your mouth to him.

He groans, and rubs the head of his cock on your tongue before you close around him. Vilkas swirls his tongue around your clit at the same moment you swirl your tongue around the head of Farkas’ cock. Your pussy clenches, relaxes, and then Vilkas slides a finger inside of you to the knuckle.

Vilkas pumps in time with the movement of his tongue while your head bobs up and down Farkas’ cock. Farkas’ hold on the back of your head is strong but not domineering. He isn’t controlling this. He’s allowing you to take charge.

Vilkas sucks your clit into his mouth and you moan around Farkas’ cock, the muscles in your thighs tightening, wanting to close around Vilkas’ head. He sucks again and Farkas’ cock pops from your mouth. Your hand goes out to grasp the base but it’s more to settle you than him. Vilkas has found that rhythm, and he is working you quickly toward an end.

He sucks again. Swirls his tongue. Then you’re sinking into yourself as the orgasm bubbles up and consumes you. The room you’re in grows a bit distant, and then it all comes hurtling forward as Vilkas continues to tease your clit with his tongue.

Your back aches off the bed, and someone’s hand is around your throat, guiding you to a seated position as Vilkas pushes up from between your legs, one hand still moving casually between them.

“Do you want me here?” he asks slowly, pumping his finger in and out of your pussy. “Or would you like me here?” Removing his fingers, he presses the sticky tips to your lips, dragging them across your flesh, leaving a glossy trail behind.

Your lips part and Vilkas takes that as an answer. With their hands on you, you don’t need to move. They guide you into position. Vilkas reclines in the bed, back against the headboard while you go onto your hands and knees between his legs.

Farkas settles on the bed behind you, his hands rubbing up and down your back before going to your hips, easing them up slightly for a better angle. You wrap your hand around the base of Vilkas’ cock at the same moment Farkas presses down a bit, arching your back, forcing your legs to slide open.

You pump Vilkas a few times before leaning in to kiss the tip. A pearly bead of precum blooms in the slit, and you eagerly lick it up with the tip of your tongue. Another blooms in its place, and you swirl your tongue around the flared head before licking the entire length of from base to tip.

Behind you, Farkas lines himself up, the head of his cock catching on your entrance, easing slowly inch by inch. He’s gentle, rolling his hips in light, shallow thrusts that allow your body to acclimate to him. A few more strokes and Farkas slides home to the hilt.

You’re full. Stretched. Filthy and feral.

You take the head of Vilkas’ cock into your mouth, holding him there while the salvia collects. Then, you swallow him down, your lips touching your hand as Farkas retreats before thrusting forward.

Hollowing your cheeks, you slide back up, and then repeat the process, bringing in your hand to pump him in time with your upward passes. Farkas moves one hand to your waist while the other stays on your hip, his pelvis slapping against your ass with each thrust.

Farkas thrusts. Grinds his hips forward. Hold there a moment. “Shall we make her ours?” he asks. You cannot see his face but you can see Vilkas. The corner of his mouth twitching until it pulls into a full smile.

“Haven’t we?” he replies, one eyebrow arching.

“She needs our marks.” You feel Farkas’s hand slide upward to clutch the back of your neck. He pulls you off Vilkas’ cock, bringing you flush against his chest. His other hand slides forward to cradle your stomach. “And our whelp, too.”

Vilkas’ grows burning hot. The swirling yellow intensifies. “And what does she say to this?” His head tilts to the side slightly, appraising you.

You’re still pressed against Farkas, his cock buried deep within you. “I want the both of you. In all ways.”

Farkas’ pleased groan against your throat goes straight to your pussy. You clench around him and his fingers reflexively dig into your skin.

“Give her to me, Farkas.”

The loss of Farkas’ cock is immediate. He draws away just as Vilkas sits up entirely and pulls you into his lap, turning you around to lay back against him. Vilkas’ hands slide forward to the backs of your thighs and then hook under your knees. He draws them to your chest and Farkas is already moving, returning to your body easily. Farkas places one hand against the wall above Vilkas while the other presses into your hip. You’re trapped between them, and the sensation is lovely.

You’re entirely at their mercy, and it feels good. It feels right.

Farkas uses the leverage of the wall to set a pounding rhythm that shakes the bed. You rest your head against Vilkas’ shoulder and surrender to them.

But Vilkas is not idle.

He adjusts his grip on one of your knees enough that he can reach between you and Farkas’ bodies to rub your clit. You’re already sensitive from when his tongue was on you, and a few well-placed strokes have you clenching around Farkas.

Farkas groans, hips slamming forward as he finishes. His chest heaves but he doesn’t immediately pull out. Instead, the hand on your hip disappears to grab the lower-half of your face. He draws you to him enough that he can lean down and kiss you.

“It’s my brother’s turn,” he murmurs against your mouth.

Farkas draws back, and then Vilkas is lifting you into his lap, lining himself up to sink inside. Your groan loudly, toes curling as he settles to the hilt. There is nothing left for you to do but hold on as he guides you up and down his cock.

“Touch yourself.”

Sighing, you slide your hand between your spread legs to work yourself. Each thrust and every stroke of your hand sends a little tremor through your legs. Vilkas makes a sound deep in his throat as he nuzzles your neck. He continues to rock his hips, upping the rhythm of his thrusts until your breath comes in short gasps of pleasure. Your eyes begin to close, eyelids fluttering with every tingle in your clit.

“You’re ours,” murmurs Vilkas against your flesh. “Ours.” On that final word, he growls, and holds you in place as he thrusts up into you.

His grunts and your groans fill the room. It isn’t until you come down from an orgasm that you realize that Vilkas is done, merely waiting for you to join them in reality. Every bit of you is sore and the dried bead-like snowberries in your hair clack together as Vilkas helps you out of his lap.

Farkas is right there with a damp cloth, sliding it between your legs to wipe away the stickiness. His movements are slow, and once he’s done, Vilkas is pulling you into his arms, snuggling down into the furs. Farkas slides in on your other side, their bodies intertwining with yours, creating a nest of limbs.

Their bodies are warm like a fire in a hearth. There is an arm around your waist, on your hip, cupping a breast. They settle into rest, but do not sleep. You are the one who drifts, and it is they that coax you back when their need for you grows too great.

If morning comes, you are not aware. And if night follows, you are unaware of that. You are aware of their tongues and teeth. You are aware of how they pass you between them, keeping you full and perfectly pliant to their every demand.

“We’re never letting you go, sweet one,” murmurs Vilkas before he sucks a nipple into his mouth.

Farkas’ hand slides to the front of your throat, pulling you back until you’re looking at him. “Never.”

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@glassgulls @km-ffluv @singleteapot @tiredmetalenthusiast @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @wrathofcats @ninman82

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