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baby-dr1ver · 7 months

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kinktober

sleepy/morning sex

charles x reader, carlos x reader

warnings: female!reqder, breeding kink, all around smut

CS55:

Carlos is tired, a triple header is grueling. Especially when he hasn’t seen you in a month.

He brings his suitcase into your room quietly, trying not to wake you in the late hours of the night. You looked so peaceful cuddled up to his pillow, hair thrown everywhere, blanket half off and-oh. N-no bottoms on, since when did you sleep naked?

He stalked over to the bed, stripping down to his boxers on the way. He could feel his body wanting to shut down and sleep, but his brain wanted to wake you up and fuck you softly. The latter won and he shook you gently.

“Bebita? Wake up, I’m home.” He whispered in your ear. You shuffled around for a minute but settled back in for sleep. Carlos decided to take an alternative route. He pushed you so you laid on your back and widened your legs so he could fit. He crawled in between your legs and laid so his torso touched yours and he could lay his head against your chest. The feeling of his hair made you start to wake up, your unconscious hand reached out and pushed his head away. “Los?” You asked with your eyes closed and fingers tangled in his hair. He lit up at the sight of you waking up. “Hi baby, missed you.” He let his hand wander past your tummy, over your bare mound, and felt how wet you were.

“Fuck..whats got you so wet hm?” You whined and tugged on his hair. “Been so long, jus wanted to mmm.” Your eyes fluttered closed as Carlos started to rub your swollen clit. The feeling of your hips slowly pushing against his hand, had him lazily rubbing his cock along the mattress.

“Amor need to….need to be inside please” You let out a shuddering breathe and nodded. “I’m all yours baby.” The next thing you knew, Carlos had his boxers down his legs and entered you in one swift motion. You held onto the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. It was sweet and gentle just like the pace he had set. Everything was moving in slow motion, you limbs were heavy and you could tell you both were close to finishing.

He kept lazily thrusting in and out of you when he brought your hand down to play with your clit. “C’mon amor, make yourself cum.” You moaned his name as you started to circle your button, trying ti keep in time with the movement of his hips.

It all felt like to much, Carlos moans in your ear, the weight of his body against you, how warm he was inside you. What pushed you over the edge was the way Carlos had pulled your leg over his hip, causing him to drive into you deeper.

“Los! F-fuck!” You moaned and raked your nails up his back as you came. The stinging of your nails against his skin caused him to follow right after.

After he cleaned you up, he tucked you back into bed and drifted off with you.

CL16:

Waking up next to the love of your life was a dream. Watching the sun illuminate there precious features you loved so much, the way the sheets looked against their skin, how comfortable they were in your presence. It was indescribable.

That’s how Charles felt looking at you next to him. The glow of your sin, how soft you felt, your sharp nose and cheek bones. He knew the second you opened your eyes, they would sparkle against the sunlight. If this si what his future looked like, he was very much okay with that.

He knew you were waking up by the way your breath changed, and your eyelids fluttered open. “Ma puce, good morning.” You smiled and reached for his hand, bringing it up to your face to nuzzle against.

“Always a good morning when I see you.” Charles blushes and slightly pinched your cheek. He watched as you kiss across his palm and up his fingers, seeing the mischief behind your eyes. “Baby….”

“Happy Anniversary bubs.” Ah, so thats why. It had slipped Charles mind this morning about the special day. Your anniversary was sacred to the both of you. No matter where you guys were, on two different continents, racing, whatever, you never failed to celebrate. “Happy Anniversary amor, can’t believe we’ve been married for two years.” He really couldn’t believe it. 2 years with the person he trusted most, the person he wanted to grow old with, have kids and grandkids with. A conversation they had yet to have might I add. One that would get Charles hard as a rock. He’d always dreamed of being a dad, of having a kid to run home to, or to see at a race covered in ferrari gear. But, it was your body and he would always respect your decision.

“Can’t believe you’ve put up with my stubborn ass for so long. Hopefully our kids won’t inherit that.” Was she reading his mind? Charles looked down at the woman with an unreadable expression. “Cha? I’m-I’m sorry should I have not said that?”

He shook his head and cupped your cheeks. “No! No no mon poussin, I just..we’ve never had this talk before.”

She sighed, “It’s been your dream to be a dad since..well forever and I want to make that come true.” Charles heart just about melted at that statement. “I don’t want you to do it just because I’ve always wanted to have kids. I want it to be your dream too.”

She leaned into my hands and looked into my eyes. “It always has been, I just wanted us to be ready to start a family. Your at a good place with your career and we feel stable so..maybe it’s time?” She scoots closer so her body is pressed to his and he’s sure she can feel how hard he’s become. “Yeah? You think so?” Charles asked coily as he ran his hands down her body to grip her hips.

“Yeah I do. So, you gonna fuck a baby in me Cha?” Oh.Fuck.

He moves forward and kisses you like your gonna disappear. His mouth devoured yours and demanded your lips part so he could slip is tongue in. “Fuck amor, can’t wait to cum in you, see you grow with life.” He said as he started pulling at your clothes. Not that there was much to pull off. You always slept in panties and his shirt, while he just slept in boxers. Once he has your shirt off, Charles immediately goes for your breast while his free hand sneaks down to your pussy. He starts a minor prep before he fucks you. Charles wasn’t the longest but he made up for it in girth. You couldn’t fit your hold hand around him when getting him off and needed a little extra help before he was in you.

“Cha..need your fingers, need them to stretch me out.” You moaned as he cupped your mound in one hand. He watched your face as he entered two fingers swiftly, and didn’t let up. Laying on your side, you only really had access to his neck which was his mistake. You bit and licked at his neck to distract you from cumming. You knew it was his weakness, his neck was sensitive and it was your way of slowing him down.

“No bebe, don’t do this. Theres no slowing me down right now.” He pulled his fingers out of you and drug your leg over his hip. This opened you up a little more, allowing him to slot inbetween your legs. You could feel his cock drag in between your legs, the tip brushing through your folds and letting your essence drip onto him. Charles has never been in you bare. You two were always safe, especially since you weren’t on any sort of birth control, it was risky to even think about.

But now that the outcome of this would be something you both wanted, he didn’t hold back. With a nod of your head, he sets off. The wind was knocked out of you with every thrust he made. You weren’t expecting him to take such a fast approach.

“My god puce, fuck this is heavenly.” he stopped for a second to feel just how tight and warm you actually were. No layer separating your skin, just your gummy walls surrounding him and sending him to an early grave.

Charles let out a string of french curses, a sign he was already close. “Cha, amor, put a baby in me. God I wanna be so full fo you, watch you drip out of me please baby I need it.” You took his hand and pressed it into the bulge in your tummy. “I know bebe, almost there.” he said almost out of breath. He pressed down harder on your stomach, making you feel every small ridge on his cock, and making him hit your g spot. “Can’t wait to watch your belly grow, my baby, our baby. Gonna look so pretty with your tits swollen and barely be able to put on your shoes-fuck.” Charles hisp started to stutter, and your moans got louder. He pushed his face into your neck to keep himself together, he smelled you. All of you. Your perfume, your body wash, your pussy. He couldn’t wait for your smell to change, he couldn’t wait for you to change.

You let out a few more ‘uh uh’s’ before your body tremble as you came. You tugged on his hair so he could look at you. “C’mon amor, cum for me-cum in me, please.” With her words and the way she tugged on his hair, he shot his cum inside her with a shout. It was surreal. Charles could feel their cum mixing together, as he kept it all inside her, determining to make it stick.

“You know, it might not take the first time.” She was panting as she looked down at the damage. There she goes reading his mind again.

‘Yeah but, you can’t be to careful right?”

A/N: hey everyone! I know some people wanted Lando in this but, I’m gonna combine the sleepy sex with shower sex! So it’ll happen i swear. Mwah, love you all <3

#formula one #formula one imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut

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fqntasies · 10 days

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The First Kiss - Feyd Rautha x Reader

summary: You are visiting Giedi Prime once again. As you've grown older, the pull you feel around the na-baron is stronger, deeper, even if you've never spoken on it. Does he dream of you too? Will you be able to speak of them to him, or will such dreams remain as such forever? We he be able to resist you?

disclaimer: this is a kind of follow up fic to my last feyd x reader. However, this takes place before that time frame. Read the first one here to get a better understanding of how i'm approaching my feyd stories.

words: 1,111

This was the fifth time your family's entourage had visited Giedi Prime; your betrothed's home planet. Each stay got a little more familiar. Perhaps it was the smell of the air. The caress of the blinding black sun above; brilliant and strange; a blot in the heavens. You felt enraptured in it somehow. Like a feeling you could not shake, though in part you blamed the dreams.

You had yet to speak of them with him.

Had he dreamt too? Surely, the na-baron had. You thought often that he must, if not only for the way his eyes seemed to linger on you when you shared a space, no matter how many resided in it. You felt wholly consumed by it. There was a heaviness in his actions, weighted by their directness; when his gaze would meet yours, your pulse would quicken, breaths catch in your chest.

Sometimes, even in silence, in those spaces you shared among the others of your families, you found him lingering close. Felt the heat of him at your back. The hand at his side ever so close to caressing the edge of your hip. He was possessive. Protective.

You two had shared such few words, yet you knew this about him already. Nor could you deny the way it made you feel. A magnetism. Something at the edge that was just out of reach. For now.

"My lady." You startle at the closeness of his words, earrings brushing the curve of your neck as you whip swiftly to look up at Feyd.

You had been thinking of him; lost in your own thoughts. He seemed to read it in your gaze, dark eyes flitting between yours, shadows blanketing the angles of his face. There is a palpable silence as his gaze lowers to your lips. That heat you'd come to know with him. Your mouth waters at the ghost of his kisses in your mind. A seemingly distant future in visions of your marriage.

You vaguely catch the Baron's smug rasp to your father something about spice production, but they have trailed out of the room before you catch the full statement; leading a train of servants in their wake, and the hissing of levitation technology.

When you speak it is but a breathy sound.

"My lord na-baron."

"-Feyd." He quips. low and sudden.

You swallow thickly, a flush beneath your cheeks as you meet his eyes. His given name. You hadn't used it yet, save your own thoughts, and whispers to yourself at night in the safety of your room. It seemed a sacred thing. Something intimate. Something of your yet-to-be-husband's.

The na-baron watches you intently; his body imperceptibly closer, as though seeking to envelope you in his shadow. Predator and prey. You decide to broach the subject. The feeling between you...you must know if it is something of your own mind.

"Feyd Rautha". For some reason the use of his full name from your lips makes him smile. A bizarre sight, being so rare - and this grin looked almost amused. Like he had not been expecting the addendum, humorous. You are quick to try and follow up with your request, cheeks hot.

"I must ask something rather delicate, pertaining to our betrothal."

At that he seems to sober a bit, obviously unsure about whatever it was you were to follow with.

"Do you..." You wish you could know a thing beyond just your own feelings. The twisting of your stomach at the thought he could reject you tearing your insides.

"...Do you dream?"

For a moment, there is that heavy silence again, but then you see the slow curl of his lips, just at the edges. Oh, he seems to say. Followed by a soft and knowing hum.

"Is that what this is about?"

He is coming closer now, stalking you in a few calculated steps with that same smile. Your chest heaves with your breaths as you make way backwards, but then he has an arm about your waist, and mentally you are aware of the heat of him, and the strength. You feel like you've lost some game, or been suddenly caught cheating.

That's when you taste him. His mouth has tilted upon yours, slotted against you like you were meant to be there and you moan softly. Surprised that this moment has come at all - yet wanton for it too. How many nights had you dreamed of him holding you like this? Wondering what it might be like for him to lean in and kiss you?

Feyd swallows your sigh greedily. Readily. The arm he has around you pulls you into him further, and you are pleasantly surprised by how soft his lips are, and how good he tastes. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip.

You angle your head opening for him further, learning as you go. He was so quietly calculated, and yet he kissed you like a man starved, uncaring of who saw or who tried to stop him. Not that any being could. You would bet everything that the na-baron would slice any fool willing to try, to shreds. You'd seen his bloodlust, and his prowess in the arena. Such a feat might even excite him, with you as his prize.

He seemed eager to hold back his need for air - kissing as deeply as he could. Slow. Then fast. As though his control would slip and he has to taste more of you. More. More. His tongue sought yours in a dance, followed by teeth tugging at your lips. You mewled softly at that, eyes so heavy. You felt almost drugged, and after a moment too long, you both parted, breaths breaking the silence.

His hands are at your hips now, holding you steady, but your faces were still just a fraction apart. You felt proud of the way Feyd's eyes looked heavy lidded, or how his lips were tinged pink. It drew your eyes in a way that had him groaning.

"Careful, princess..." The nickname has your cheeks heating again, even after being kissed senseless, and he chuckles low in his chest. The smells of spice and some kind of foreign cologne fill your senses as he nears again, this time bringing his mouth towards your ear. You close your eyes, barely able to keep them open as you angle your head slightly to the side.

"-Or I might have to make more of my dreams a reality."

The admittance, and the low tone of his voice so close has you turning your face and opening for him once more, your breaths colliding as he is quick to seek your tongue with his own.

#feyd x reader #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #x reader #fanfic #reader insert #reader #fanfiction #dune fanfic #dune fanfiction #feyd x you #i love the bald man alright #like dang why they make him so kissable though #okay dawg yeah i wanna make out gosh

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chaotic-iguana · 5 months

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dewdrop

in which miguel really, really likes mornings. or maybe not.

warnings: smut-ish? fluff? more of a braindump to get me back into writing. oh also yeah, add miguel to my character list.

morning: the suspension of time between night and day; reality warped and fuzzy and warm in the in-between; soft and slow and dripping like honey.

the steady weight of an arm resting on your back, a chest rising and falling under your head. the drag of the hours to come forgotten somewhere under muffled whines and fluttering lashes; greedy, grasping fingers and hungry mouths, burning kisses and whispers getting lost in the frigid air resting her fingers on your lips.

mornings are sacred. mornings are untouched; untainted by anything that was and anything that could be. golden tendrils wrapped around sighs breathed into skin, soft caresses and tangled hair met with gentle grins and gentler hands.

mornings when even the birds are asleep; flowers slumbering under dew, when your stirring prompts a raspy ‘sleep well?’, as you blink against the blinding light kissing your lashes. when small talk becomes a symphony of moans swallowed by the seal of your mouth on his, when miguel can really take his time taking you apart and putting you back together; lay back as you straddle him and leave burning trails of kisses down his chest, watch your eyes shut and your head tip back as your toes curl, fingers fisting the bedsheet beside him and you’re divine-

until the steady beeping of his watch signals the end of your stolen time, lyla popping up with a smirk and half-assing her way through a snarky comment while telling him about how ‘there’s another emergency and they need you now’ and day catches up with him again, sinking its claws into the delicate balance of dawn and dragging him with it. until all he can do is kiss your head and work you through it, leaving you under a heap of blankets and whispered praise before ripping off his sweatpants and activate his suit, fists curled in irritation and opening a portal, the breath knocked out of him when he turns for one last glimpse of you splayed out on his bed. until all he can do is handle it until morning comes around again.

short, i know (sorry). update - i might be coming back?? as always, thanks for reading, comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings,@josephquinnswhore,@millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis (hey pal), @amanitacowboy, @party-hearses, @planet-marz1, @chiogarza, @jenispunk. i know y’all didn’t sign up for miggy content so let me know if u wanna be tagged only in pedro works. divider by the amazing @cafekitsune.

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ziggyzolch · 1 month

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Headache Ⅳ (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: You're bored and Tony won't let you leave the building unless you bring a babysitter with you. Warnings: ig kinda mean wanda Previous Part

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

❅❅❅

A week with the avengers and you’re already bored. They haven’t let you go on missions or leave the building yet, so you’ve been relying on your friends’ class notes. All you’ve been doing is training, studying, playing video games, and attempting to prank Wanda. She was always one step ahead of you. Scaring you before you could jump out the corner to scare her, using her powers to flip the bucket of ice water and making you spill it all over yourself, and worse of all, predicting the punchline of your jokes before you could get to them.

You learned of her mind reading capabilities when you called her stupid in your head and she rid you of your blanket privileges. She was super sensitive to lame insults, you noticed. It was either that or shoving you against walls was just enjoyable to her.

The one time she was tolerable was during your occasional drinking nights with Peter, and sometimes Pietro. She was touchy, but not mean. Kind of. Last night was one of those nights, and Wanda had gotten the most wasted out of all of you, leading you to call it a night a little earlier.

You wake up to a gentle pushing on your cheek. Peaking an eye open, you break into a smile at the sight of your cat. “Hey, little buddy” You whisper to him, adjusting your position on the floor. He meows back, continuing to paw at you. Pain pierces through your head when you push yourself off the floor. You probably shouldn’t have drunk half your weight in vodka.

A groan comes from the bed in the corner of the room when the chair you were using you hold yourself up creaks loudly. Your eyes widen when you see Wanda gagging with her upper half leaning off the bed. Rushing to get the bin, you speed towards her, placing the trash can under her before she could puke all over her floor. Wanda clutches the bin while you hold her hair back.

“Let it all out.” You attempt to comfort her while your own head’s spinning. She groans after emptying the contents of her stomach, rolling onto her back.

“I’m never drinking again.” Wanda groans while you laugh, taking the bin to the bathroom and dumping its contents into the toilet.

“Do we have training today?” You peek your head out of the bathroom while washing your hands.

“No practice on Saturdays.” She finally gets up, walking towards you.

You’re brushing your teeth as she looks in the mirror, fixing her hair. Spitting the toothpaste out, you ask, “Can I leave the building yet?”

She shrugs, making eye contact with you through the mirror, “You’re gonna have to ask Steve or Tony.”

You groan. Becca has been on your ass about your whereabouts the past 7 days, and you’re running out of excuses. Also, you missed her. The team is great, but you’ve only known them for a week. Plus, you’d rather not cross paths with Steve again. He’s lectured you more times than you could count.

Finishing up, you wash your face and leave Wanda to do her business. You bend down to take out a random black camisole and sweatpants out of your bag and place them on the desk, back cracking as you straightened back up. Wanda refused to let you keep your clothes in her closet, so you had to make do until you got your own room.

You didn’t really know where you stood with her, you hadn’t fully warmed up to each other yet. She still hasn’t let you sleep on the couch. Even drunk, she pushed you to the floor when she caught you falling asleep on her sacred sofa. You couldn’t be assed to argue at the time, but as you're twisting and turning your torso, attempting to rid the pain in your back, you wish you did.

Walking to the nightstand, you check the time on Wanda’s phone. She confiscated yours as a ‘security protocol’, but you think she just wanted to fuck with you. Ignoring the feeling of eyes on you, you sigh and lift your shirt over your head, groaning when you realize you left your clothes on the desk. When you turn, you find Wanda standing outside the bathroom. She looks you up and down, smirking at your blush as you walk to get your clothes.

“Uh, can you turn around?” You curl into yourself, attempting to cover up your body.

The brunette rolls her eyes, “This is my room, you can’t tell me what to do.”

Your blush deepens, “You can’t be serious.”

Wanda doesn’t move from her spot, shrugging. You groan and leave the room, closing the door behind you and taking off your pants. You’re mumbling curses under your breath when a gasp catches your attention. Peter and Natasha are standing at the end of the hallway. The former with his hand over his eyes, a deep blush covering his face. Natasha smirks as she drags Peter by his arm, walking past you and turning a corner. Sighing, you lean against the door, pulling up your pants when suddenly you’re falling forward.

Wanda looks down at you, flat on your face with your pants halfway up. “Fucking bit-”

You don’t even get to finish before you’re being lifted and pushed into a wall. “I dare you to finish that sentence.”

“Why are you always abusing me?” You pout, attempting to turn around and look at her when she pushes your face further into the wall.

“Apologize.” She grits out.

You’re about to retort when you remember you have to talk to Tony. Reluctantly, you mumble out an apology and Wanda turns you around to face her, smirking, “Good girl.”

She pulls your pants up, tapping your reddened cheek and walking back into her room.

What the fuck.

❅❅❅

“Come in!” You push past the door of Tony’s lab, taking in all the machines and holograms around the room. You hadn’t actually gotten a chance to get a good look at everything during your failed heist. “What’s up?” Tony turns to you, blowtorch in hand. Eyes widening, you slowly back up, “Uh, I just wanted to ask if I could leave the building-”

“Nope.”

“What! Why?”

“You’re not exactly the most trustworthy person.”

“Untrue! I saw Peter pick his nose once and I haven’t told anyone!”

“You literally just told me.”

“Please!”

You grab Tony’s shoulders, moving him back and forth and pleading, voice raising in pitch.

He groans, grabbing both your wrists, “Jesus, Fine.”

“Yes!”

“But you have to bring Wanda with you.”

Your face drops, “Peter can come with me.”

Tony shakes his head, “He wouldn’t be able to catch you if you ran, plus you’re all buddy-buddy with him.”

“Okay, fine, but on one condition,”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Can you get me an automatic cat food dispenser, or install one, or hire someone to feed my cat.”

He laughs, “Don’t let Steve find your cat, and sure.”

You internally celebrate, rushing out and back towards Wanda’s room. “Hey, Wanda-” Pushing open the door, you catch the witch sitting on the couch with you laptop on her lap. You grab your laptop and place it in your backpack before she could blink.

One hand on your hip, you stare at her, waiting for an explanation. After a beat of silence, you finally ask, “What were you doing on my laptop?”

Wanda’s eyes dart around the room, looking everywhere but you, mumbling something under her breath.

“What?”

“I wanted to play the game I saw you playing earlier.”

You tilt your head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion before she groans, “The one where you fight zombies and stuff.”

“Resident evil?”

“Not that one.”

“Call of duty?”

“No!”

“Left for dead?”

“No it was like, ugh I don’t know! Like, it had skeletons and I saw a pig.”

Your eyes light up in realization, “Minecraft?”

Wanda slaps her hands together, “That’s the one!”

You laugh, shaking your head and moving towards your bag to take out cat food. “I’ll let you play, if you come out with me tonight.”

Your cat approaches you when he hears the bag rustle, and you exit the room for a second to pour the food in his bowl. Wanda refused to let you keep the litter box and food bowl in her room, which was fair.

You walk back in, finding Wanda wide-eyed on the couch, “Like, on a date?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “No! Nothing like that. Tony said I could go out if you came as a babysitter.”

Wanda deflates, “Oh, sure yeah.”

You take your laptop out again, moving to take a seat next to Wanda. You’re explaining how the game works when you get an email from your roommate and best friend, Becca, jokingly asking if you’re gonna bail on the hangout. You quickly type out a reply, ‘im coming. bringing a friend,’ You pause for a moment before continuing, ‘best regards.’

Wanda’s lips tilt upwards at you considering her a friend despite her behavior towards you. “Why is she emailing you?” You raise an eyebrow, “You took my phone. Remember?” Her mouth forms an ‘O’ shape before reaching her hand behind the couch cushions, bringing your phone up and handing you it. You snatch your phone from her hand, rolling your eyes. “Asshole,” You stiffen, only relaxing when you realize Wanda hadn’t heard, “Uhm, okay, so you make these tools…”

Wanda was horrible. It took her an hour and a half to finally get used to the walking controls and crafting, kind of. “This is a stupid game.” She whines as the respawn screen pops up for the millionth time. Glancing at the corner of the screen, you curse as you jump up. “We need to get ready. Can you call Peter and ask him if he’s busy?”

You change your clothes, not caring about Wanda seeing you. She had already seen you in your underwear so there was no point.

Wanda hums, makes no move to pick up her phone.

You roll your eyes when you catch her staring, “Can you stop being a creep and call Peter. Invite Pietro if you want.”

“Fine.”

❅❅❅

The silhouettes of your friends become clearer as you approach the location on your phone. Wanda’s bows furrow when she sees that it's an abandoned construction site, awkwardly parking the car. You and Peter rush out of the car, excitedly hugging your friends. Peter had invited Ned and MJ, while you had Becca. The twins weren’t as popular as the rest of the avengers, so you didn’t worry about your friends recognizing them. Wanda and Pietro stepped out of the vehicle and approached your group.

“Guys! This is Wanda, and this is her brother, Pietro.”

Exchanging pleasantries, you all start walking towards the building. Wanda turns towards you, “Why are we here? Is this just your normal hangout spot-” Her eyes widen when you shush her, placing a finger on her lips, “All will be revealed, little witch.”

You were all sat in a circle inside the abandoned building, the flashlights of your phones illuminating the room. Ned and Becca sat on either side of you, with the twins, Peter and MJ sat across. “Silence!” You clap your hands together, continuing when everybody turns their attention towards you, “Rumor has it, this building was the site of satanic…occult? Cult? Whatever, you get me. Rituals!”

Wanda smiles in amusement, winking when you make eye contact.

“Uhm, okay. Uh,” Becca tilts her head at your blush, “Anyways! We will be contacting the spirits present here.”

Becca chimes in, lifting a bottle of water, “I brought holy water with me!”

You and her planned this thing together, and holy water was never mentioned. Taking the bottle from her, you pop open the cap and take a sip. Becca laughs when you attempt to stop yourself from making a face, “Wow, okay. Glad you brought vodka to a fucking demon ritual.”

Ignoring you, Becca takes out a ouija board from her bag and places it in the middle of the circle. Wanda’s eyes light up as she turns towards her brother.

“Alright, everybody put your hands on the pointer thing.” You say while placing your hands first, everybody following after you. “Spirits, ghosts, beings, entities, and everything else, if you are here, move the…puck thing.” Becca is about to laugh when suddenly the pointer moves towards ‘yes’. Peter looks around, wide eyed, while Wanda and Pietro are oddly calm. “Uhm, okay uh. Jesus.” You wipe the sweat off your forehead, “Are you evil?” Everybody gasps as it circles around ‘yes’. Quinn pushes on your shoulder, “Can we stop?” You roll your eyes, “No. Alright, what’s my name?” You all look in confusion when it moves to the wrong letters. You read them out,

“H-E-I-S-E-N-B-E-R-G? Heisenberg.”

Peter, Ned, and Becca all break out into laughter, removing their hands from the board while you and the rest look at each other in confusion until Becca explains the reference.

Becca gasps, “Weren’t we supposed to say goodbye before we took our hands off-” The phone lights flicker, and a banging sounds behind you. You screech, jumping into Becca’s arms, “What the fuck!” You tuck your head into her neck when the lights flicker again. Your friend wraps her arms around you in an iron grip, just as scared as you. You don’t catch the red mist dissipating off the board.

The banging stops, and the lights don’t flicker. You detach yourself from your friend, standing up. MJ slaps her hands on her thighs before getting up, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” You all agree, turning to rush out of the building. Every little sound was making you jump as you exited the building. Wanda sneaks up behind you,

“Boo-”

A blood curdling scream comes out of you as you turn, your hand clutching at your heart. Your glare does nothing to the witch. Wanda fakes a look of pity as she pulls you into a hug, “Aw, are you scared? I’ll protect you, baby.”

“You literally are the reason I’m scared!” You whine, lightly shoving her off of you. For the rest of the night, you were attached to at least one person from the group. Wanda was growing irritated watching you hang on to everyone's arm except hers, and everybody could tell. Becca was holding onto your hand when she caught a glimpse of Wanda, jealousy radiating off of her.

She gave her a knowing look, “My hands are getting sweaty, hold someone else’s hand.” She shakes you off of him, ignoring your whine and pushing you towards Wanda. You didn’t want to hold onto her since all she did until now was torment and scare you, but everybody else already got a turn.

Wanda beams when you hold onto her arm, smiling when Becca shoots her a wink. She blushes when she feels you squeezing her bicep.

After getting burgers and circling the area for a while, you land back at Wanda’s car. MJ and Peter continue the path alone as Ned bids everyone a goodbye.

“Hey!” Becca approaches you, “You coming back? I know you have that thing with your grandma but I miss your company.”

Deflating a little, you shake your head, “Not for a while, I’m sorry.” She was your best friend, your laptop wallpaper was a picture of her, “I’ll tell you if I do, though.” You add.

She leans in to kiss your cheek, “Alright. Stop ignoring my texts, at least.”

Your eyes stay on her as she walks away, slightly frowning. Wanda wraps her arm around your shoulder, ushering you to the back seat. “I miss my life.” You sigh, leaning against the window as Pietro and Wanda enter the car. She looks at you from the rearview window, “You’ll get used to it.”

Pietro twists his body to turn towards you, “Who knows, maybe you’ll get to go back to your dorm in like a couple months.”

“Maybe.” You pick at your cuticles. A couple months. Here. You could do that.

Just a couple of months.

❅❅❅

Next part

A/N: my new fic is depressing so i figured id update this cute little one, thank you for reading!

Comment if you wanna get added to the tag list.

Tags : @sgm616

#marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wlw #reader #x reader #sapphic #fanfiction #fanfic

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admirxation · 6 days

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彡 Secret - Leon Kennedy

father in law!Leon Kennedy x daughter in law!afab!reader | 18+ | 3.5k | oneshot

synopsis — Your husband goes on another business trip, an excellent time for you to seek affection with his father.

contents — 18+ heavy smut mdni, pseudo-incest (in-laws), cheating, slight hair pulling, thigh touching, dirty talk, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), tit play, unprotected sex (p in v), breeding kink, possessiveness (a little), and creampie // I do not condone everything I write, this is just fiction if you don’t like don’t read. Read the warnings and continue at our own discretion. I’ve provided ample warning.

tags: @mrswint3rs @elfven-blog (please check the taglist in my pinned post if you want to be tagged in future works)

The essence of secrecy lies in its concealed nature; it is meant to evade the awareness of others in confidence between only a select few, often confined to a mere duo. The revelation of this can imperialise many involved. However, the enigmatic nature of maintaining a secret is undeniably captivating; it entices individuals to guard and preserve its sanctity. The prospect of clandestine knowledge imparts a sense of thrill; it can keep the individual’s heart pumping with adrenaline each second that goes past, and each day, it finds another day to survive between the knowing. Yet, beneath that surface of excitement, the weight of culpability lingers, a moral unease inherent in the act of concealment, the feeling of guilt inhabiting the consciousness of the one keeping it, especially with the amount of gravity certain secrets have—like the one you were holding with Leon.

When you first sought comfort with your father-in-law, you thought this was going to be a one-time moment of weakness, a feeling that it was just happening through the disconnect with your husband, a moment of letting your desires warp your mind and your morals—but this soon escalated into ‘one time’ being apart of continuous routine. Tiptoeing into his room, sneaking away when your husband was at work, betraying your vows, those sacred words that shouldn’t be tarnished for a few moments of fun, but you were indulging in breaking those promises every moment you lied in Leon’s arms, every moment you let his form engulf you in its shadow, every moment you pressed your arms around him and left sweet kisses on his skin.

When you wrapped yourself up in a blanket next to your husband, there was a phantom feeling of something tugging at your heart, like a hand squeezing and pulling at it, pushing down into the form of a cold spike feeling travelling down into the pit of your stomach whenever you pictured the inevitable moment when your husband would find out; you weren’t completely stupid, you knew that this would all come out sooner or later, especially with the fact that you were cheating with your husbands father. This wasn’t some secret or tall tale that you could take to the grave with you; no, this was something that needed to be known; it was starting to become more than just bodily fulfilment with another; there was a connection in your betrayal, an emotional one that whenever you parted from his presence you craved to be back into it, and not just through lust, through romantic interest like you formerly had with your husband. The feeling of guilt was only natural when these affairs were starting. Still, it all started to melt away when your husband reciprocated the distance, as well as the infidelity you were providing in the relationship.

There has always been a lack of chemistry and connection within the relationship; when you first met each other in college, it started as a casual sexual relationship, meeting each other whenever your roommates were gone and finding some late-night indulgences. Then it rolled into something more serious. It was all a blur now; you remember a casual to serious relationship shift; you noticed this when you first met his father. You always thought he was attractive, but you never thought he would be the person you wanted to be with. You felt trapped in this relationship. Granted, your husband never pushed you into that decision, but you felt dependent on him for what he provided, all the benefits he gave you, and even pulled you up in the ranks of your job position; you did owe a lot to him. However, this lack of connection was always found in his wandering eye.

He always had a wandering eye for every woman who passed but never acted on it…until now.

You never blamed him or felt betrayed, hell you didn’t even cry or wince in reaction when you were met with the vision of the text messages he shared with his secretary; you just turned the phone off and pretended to be the innocent wife, oblivious to it all; but when you saw those messages, you could only feel… relief? Relief that you weren’t hurting someone in love with you anymore, relief that both of you were aware of this trapped marriage. You were hoping this affair would be the trigger to make him throw the divorce papers in your face, something you were too cowardly to do.

You were waving off your partner for another business trip; it made you laugh when he would always make up some extravagant lie, always bringing up names to make his lie seem more believable; of course, you always knew when he was lying, he would never maintain eye contact, and whenever you asked who was going, you saw his eyes widen and look around the room trying to remember what he fabricated a few days earlier. If anything, you admired how far he would go. Sometimes, you wondered if he was just doing this to spite you for sleeping with his father, but you didn’t care; you just wanted him gone longer so you could spend time with Leon.

When telling Leon this, he laughed at how his son was trying to make things even, though he knew his son was awful at covering his tracks; after all, he had known him all his life; he knew what his son was capable and incapable of. When learning the information that your son is cheating on their wife, it arranges multiple reactions. Some people simply do not care, and some even blame the wives. Others will be shocked at their son's behaviour, knowing they didn’t raise him like this and will be there for their daughter-in-law. But Leon, oh, Leon intensely disliked how his son never fully appreciated you. He was also glad that his weak ability to be a husband granted him the opportunity to give the woman whom he couldn’t stop thinking about the attention she deserved. When learning of another business trip his son was going on, he just smirked when hearing your tempting words through the phone, knowing exactly what you were planning and insinuating.

“He can spend all the time he wants with… Whatever her name is… Now, come to mine; I know you’re free.”

When you heard those words on the phone, you were quick to leave your house, locking the door and jumping into your car for a few-minute journey to him; you felt your heart flutter and jump within your chest every time the tyre rolled further to your destination, every turn and bend you had on the road, all of it adding to that feeling of impatience whenever you were stopped by traffic.

You didn’t have to knock; you already had a key to make your way whenever you wanted to, whenever you wanted a late-night roll around when your husband was in a night of deep sleep or having ‘overtime’ at work. You made your way to the staircase and ascended into his room.

Leon was sitting at his desk, working alone. It was clear that he was probably waiting for you to come a bit later, considering this time of day harboured the most traffic.

He greeted you with a smile, dropping his pen and looking you up and down under his scrutiny; you felt undressed under his gaze with those longing and erotic states; the tension between you two was undeniable every time you were together, all those pent up desires every time you couldn’t be together all bursted within an explosion of desire whenever people were out of the picture. You could fulfil everything you two thought of. When no one was around, his house was the realm where the secret wasn’t something to hide, but something accepted between you two, something loved by you two.

You pushed away his work to one side, positioning yourself in between his legs before pushing yourself up to the table, feeling a jolt course through your body when you felt Leon’s large hands slide to the sides of your waist, roaming and sliding down to the plush of your thighs, continuing to maintain that lustrous stare that always made you weak whenever looking deeply back into that blue undressing gaze.

“It’s rude to ignore a guest, especially when you invite them, Leon,” you said to him, looking down and watching as he took the free invitation to keep touching you, pushing his hands under the flap of your dress, feeling your soft and smooth skin as he caressed you further; a smirk playing at his lips as he witnessed you subtly parting your legs as he continued to keep touching, providing him with a further invitation.

“True. Especially one that is so beautiful; where are my manners?” he looked up at you as you bent your head forward to meet him, your lips being mere moments away from his, letting that tension arise between the both of you; you leaned in to let him give you a soft and tender kiss, a kiss that slowly increased into further sensual deep interlocks between you two.

He pushed one of his hands to the back of your head, tangling his fingers within the strands of your hair, slightly tugging at it to make you release soft winces; you bit your lip as you two both continued to share erotic eye contact that was already creating a knot within your stomach and made your heartbeat deeper and your breaths deeper. As you were lost in those pools of blue, you expressed a sharp and high-pitched gasp when his fingers led to your clothed core, feeling the tips of his fingers rub circles around, pulling sweet and tender moans from you.

“How long is he gone for?”

“A week,” Leon pushed his fingers with harder pressure as he rubbed your sensitive bud through the wet patch already formed from his long digits.

“Good. A week with me, would you like to stay here, darling? I wouldn’t want you to be lonely,” you could only release a nod as you pressed your lips into a line, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushed his index and middle finger deeper and circulated in a clockwise motion—from just a tiny amount of time he knew what would drive you crazy. “Use your words, sweetheart; I can’t mind read,” he tilted his head to the side as he waited for you to open your mouth.

“Yes, I would, yes I would want that,” you managed to fabricate your chosen words in a breathy release as he quicked his motions, moans wanting to erupt already to replace your words.

“Am I already driving you crazy?” you nodded again, “I love it when you’re easy for me… And only me,” his words were elongated, arousal and stimulation within the way he spoke that made your core flutter in excitement and anticipation, even more so when he wrapped the tip of his finger around the side of your already soaked panties, and slowly pushing them to the side, he wasn’t going to rush this no matter how many times he felt you, he always wanted to savour the feeling of making you his.

He lifted your skirt even further to witness your glistening cunt, feeling your heat as he lingered his fingers around your inner thigh, teasing you even more, not knowing when he was going to draw more moans from you, simply with his fingers.

“Do you want to feel good, sweetheart?” you nodded, looking down and spreading your legs even further, “You’re such a dirty little slut for me, aren’t you? Yet you won’t just leave him.”

You had been thinking of leaving your husband ever since you started this affair with Leon, and he wasn’t going to leave it alone until you were his, not just in bodily and emotional connection, but under the eyes of the law and society, he wanted everyone to know that you were his girl.

“You know it w-won’t be any longer,” your breathing hitched as you waited for Leon’s fingers to creep themselves inside you, feeling a tingle and tightening sensation within your stomach the way he looked at you with those eyes that controlled all your feelings.

He ran his thumb over your soft mouth, his other fingers on his left hand rubbing your wet slit, dragging the tips of his fingers along your soaked cunt. Hearing your heavy breathing, he pulled you back for another kiss, his tongue entering your mouth and swirling and sliding on yours, enjoying every minute and surprised little noise secreted from your mouth, muffled by his kisses. He pushed his long and thick digits inside you, slowly, pulling a long and quiet moan as he bit your bottom lip in between kisses, feeling him slowly pump and curl his fingers as your walls tightened around them.

“Does my dirty girl want more?” he whispered to you in between kisses, “and I expect you to use your manners.” He always loved to have that cocky attitude with you, always loving to have the upper hand, knowing you melted every time you felt his touch, forever in his submission.

“Yes, please, Leon,” you begged.

“Good girl.”

He left one final wet kiss on your lips before pushing his chair away with a harsh kick and letting his face be in front of your pussy, your aching pussy that was craving him all through the journey, that craved him every night and day when you were apart. He kissed lightly at your pussy before enclosing your clit with his lips, interlocking with your wet and soft folds, his tongue lapping and dancing around your sensitive cluster of nerves, continuing to pump his long fingers inside you, circling your bud over and over again in perfect rhythm to pushing his digits further into your throbbing cunt, feeling his cock harden inside his pants every time your taste lingered around in his mouth, every time he took ownership with having fun with you.

“All mine,” he quickly said as he continued to press his face back in between your thighs, his hand massaging your thigh, “I’ll never get tired of tasting you,” you felt him smile against you, his breathing deepening as you continued to moan for him.

“Fuck, Leon-” your back arched as your fingers messed through his blonde locks, tugging and ruffling as your head continued to be kicked back. Your eyes squeezed shut as you let his soft lips continue to be attached to your clit, sucking and circling it, his fingers keeping you on the edge and making your toes curl with each load of erotic sound to fill the room’s atmosphere. Leon loved how much you squirmed as you tensed every muscle in your body when feeling that pleasure course through you at the hands and skill of Leon; you felt a pulsating scream ready to roll through your body as you whined from the stimulation; Leon continued to put you over the edge as he increased the speed and rhythm, setting another catalyst for your first orgasm so he threw his hand on your breast and squeezed it tightly, your skin poking out in the gaps of his fingers, later rolling your hardened nipple with his fingers while hungrily lapping his tongue around your clit, like being indulged into an addictive sweet treat.

“Leon!” you screamed like you always did, and he continued to love hearing those sounds.

Your thighs continue to tighten, your pussy spasming, and Leon’s tongue awaiting as you squeezed your eyes shut and engaged your core, releasing a clear and delicious release into his mouth, inviting Leon to lick up every drop and savouring the flavour only he craved every morning and night. He licked up a strip of your pussy, slowly pulling his fingers away as he watched your chest move up and down in rapid action with your changed breathing patterns.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done yet,” he cooed as he licked his lips, watching your face beg for more. Your heart practically leapt when hearing those words, ready for whatever dictation he will provide for you.

He continued to unbutton and drop his pants down, his erection bouncing out and exposing its red blushed tip already leaking with precum from just receiving the taste of you; you moved off the table and were ready to feel him deep inside, but his next words stopped you momentarily.

“Why don’t you just leave him when he comes back… He’s got somebody… And I don’t want us to keep being secretive,” his hands were placed on your hips, you hoovering over him and feeling your heartbeat move at a quicker pace. “I make you feel better than he ever did. Marry me instead. I know that’s what you want, baby,” a blush crept on your cheeks as he continued to rub your sides, putting pressure on you with his touch.

“Hm, sorry for putting you on the spot, let’s resume-”

“Yes. I will. I will leave him for you.”

Leon’s eyes widened; you no longer felt his touch pressure down onto your skin. He stopped there momentarily as if time had frozen within his body clock.

Then that smirk came back. That knowing smirk of him finally getting his way, that smirk revealing he could finally have you and not just as an affair, he wouldn’t want to give a damn what others thought; he finally had you, and having you was all that mattered to him.

“Come here, you,” he growled as he pulled your underwear, his eagerness igniting impatience as he pulled hard enough for the delicate fabric to rip, the threads pulling out in intricate patterns, pulled down to the carpeted floor; you didn’t care as he pulled you and sat you on his lap, feeling his cock push inside your wet, throbbing, squelching cunt as he aggressively thrusted you down on him, hearing the slap of your skin come crashing down on his thighs, erupting another deep moan out of you as you felt his large cock pressed inside and wrapped around your tight and warm walls.

“Fuck. You’re so tight, baby.” You bounced with the help of Leon’s hands tucked underneath your ass and bouncing you on his member, pushing along his length further inside of you as he felt a craving that now belonged to him, “God. You feel amazing,” he continued to hiss as he felt you, his cock continuing to twitch as he heard your continuous gasps and moans.

“Mmm, you’re so good,” you managed to get the words out as his large hands continued to grip your ass, watching his eyes darken with lust and possession as he watched your tits bounce in front of him with every thrust he pumped inside of you.

“Just like that,” you found the perfect rhythm for him, “Umpth, you’re doing so good, baby,” he kicked his head back as you continued bouncing along his length, a red flush engulfing your pretty face, drool collecting at the corners of your mouth as you continued to scream for Leon and watch his perfect frame push inside of you.

You whimpered as he squeezed your ass hard, your walls clenching around his dick even harder and making his desperation to finish inside you grow as you screamed his name again, releasing another loud luscious orgasm that drove Leon crazy with the fact he knew your body so well.

“Cum for me, Leon,” you whispered, “you know I want to feel it. You know I love it,” you continued to push Leon when you saw that look in his eyes, knowing he was close.

“Hmm, god,” he continued to growl as he felt your pussy tighten around him, “Oh sweetheart, I don’t just need a ring to prove to-to everyone you chose the better man… I need to fucking breed that, that perfect pussy,” he couldn’t create a perfect sentence without being interrupted with the odd messing up of words, focusing on trying not to cum until he finally let this words out; the effort to not release inside you was building up, beads of sweat were forming across his forehead and his chest puffed out in deeper breathing.

“Do it then, I’m all yours.”

A glimmer crossed his blue gaze as he pumped his last belligerent thrusts inside of you, his arms wrapped around your waist tightly. His face buried in your tits as he released his white and creamy cum inside of your walls, shooting inside of you with desperation, slowly pushing it further inside you, the head of his cock continuing to bash against your cervix as he fucked his seed further inside of you. His actions released a long, drawn-out moan escaping your glossy lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your formerly tense body melted back into relaxation and your breathing becoming laboured as you felt his cum pool inside of you, the rest trickling down your sticky thighs as you tried to catch you breath.

A secret is always fun to keep, but it eventually comes out, whether from being revealed by another or from people no longer being able to keep it inside and wanting the whole world to know.

please remember the best way of supporting writers is by liking and reblogging, i give everyone love who has taken the time of their day to read what i have created, thank you *kiss kiss*.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #father in law!leon kennedy x reader smut #dead dove do not eat #smut #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy imagine smut #fanfiction #admirxation writes

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anisangeldust · 15 days

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Pretty when you cry 𝜗𝜚⋆

Summary: feelings are hard.

Pairing: young politician!Coriolanus x Fem!reader

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Coriolanus is stressed and needs you, emotional vulnerability, mentions of parental loss, crying.

A/N: just some heart-achy fluff bc I’m in the mood to coddle someone rn🎀

Masculinity and Bravado were drilled into the brain of Panems president since the day he was born, festering like an infection, multiplying like an invasion, until all he could feel was shame for feeling.

So often he’d find himself teary eyed, chanting soliloquies of “Men don’t cry, you aren’t weak, crying makes you weak.” like mantras around his apartment, such nonsense that those superior used to undermine his naturally empathetic soul.

It wasn’t until many moons later that he crossed your sacred path, your mere presence a soothing compress on his aching heart. Little by little, you cleared his night skies from its once insurmountable peril, the darkness that had consumed his soul was no longer seeping through his core, instead it soaked through his eyes, salty drops of crystalline water flowing down his milky cheeks.

At the moment, he was being comforted by his ever so generous and loving wife. The emotions he buried so desperately were now flowing like a river in front of his own personal Aphrodite, a tsunami of emotions flooding his soul, lapping at the weak spots of his delicate being. Never would anyone describe Coriolanus Snow as vulnerable, but right now he was. Your tenderness akin to the mother he lost so long ago, and his trembling frame that of a little boy. This is love in its rawest form, the ability to express vulnerability without judgement, the thing Coriolanus so clearly craved his whole adolescence.

Heaven was breaking down in your arms, having a rough day and coming home to you, the woman he loved with every ounce of his being, to have you hold his face and tell him it was all going to be okay; your murmured words like a warm compress on his aching heart.

So often he reminded himself that he was allowed to have bad days, being president was draining, and the cracks in his mask were deepening, he could no longer hide from the flood, he had to just make sure he didn’t drown. Luckily you were his life boat. Despite all his hard work, sometimes the darkness prevails, dawning cloaks of false serendipity, only to shed its light and consume your dignity. The darkness that clouds his vision, creeps into the corners of his mind, dampens his thinking, the darkness only you can cut through. He beam of light, his saving grace.

Coriolanus was a blubbering mess, your fingers running in his platinum curls a reminder that he was safe, that he was going to be okay. Slowly, he lifted his head from your chest and sniffled.

“I don’t deserve you..” he murmured, eyes red and puffy from crying so hard.

“Shhh, just lay on me baby, it’s okay, I’ve got you” you cooed, pressing his face back into the soft fat of your chest. As to which he happily complied.

The muscles of his shirtless back were relaxed, melting into you and your warm embrace. He wrapped his arms around your middle and hugged you like you were going to disappear if he let go, you were his most precious gem, a beauty unmatched by the most divine beings, a goddess amongst men, and Coriolanus was your most devoted apostle.

Slowly, his breathing regained stability, his pink lips no longer quivering, chest no longer heaving. You peppered his teary cheeks with kisses as he calmed down slowly. His mind slipping form consciousness as he fell asleep.

“I love you” he croaked gently, voice rough and tone uneven, the most vulnerable state Coriolanus Snow could be in, the one reserved for you.

“I love you too baby boy, so much. Now sleep, it’ll all be okay” you mutter as he flutters his eyes closed and lays on you completely, your own personal weighted blanket.

Coriolanus was truly sculpted by the gods, how else would he be so pretty when he cries?

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asa-do-your-thing · 19 days

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Faileas

18+ MINORS DNI Cregan Stark x F!Reader 5.6k Warnings: SMUT, blowjob, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions forced marriage, dom / sub dynamics as always no proofreading no nothing

Hi guys! you wished for some Cregan action, here you go, some wintery woodsy and very sexy scenes for you <3

The eerie silence of the snow-covered forest was suddenly shattered by a loud thump, jolting you out of your sleep. The sound echoed through the thick trees, sending shivers down your spine. You knew that snow never fell silently, but this was no gentle snowfall.

Someone or something had disturbed the peacefulness of the night.

Hastily pulling on your fur-lined boots and throwing on your warm cape, you grabbed your trusty ax, ready to defend yourself against any unwelcome visitors. The only light came from the full moon, casting elongated shadows across the ground. Your heart raced as you crept towards the door, unsure of what awaited you outside in the frigid darkness. Whoever was lurking around at this hour was most likely not a friendly soul.

Breathing deeply, you pushed open the door just a sliver to peer outside. The sight that met your eyes was nothing short of awe-inspiring. The snow lay pristine and untouched, beautifully illuminated by the silver glow of the moon. Each tree stood tall and heavy under its snowy blanket, the crystals shimmering with infinite variations of blue and silver under the celestial light.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught your attention. It was far off in the distance but distinct against the untouched snowscape. Fear surged through your veins, but courage stemmed from your noble upbringing spurred you on. As you stepped out into the winter night, the crisp air stung your face and the snow crunched under your boots. Your fingers tightened around the handle of your ax, its familiar weight offering some measure of comfort.

As you trudged deeper into the forest, it became clear that you were not alone. Footprints imprinted on the previously untouched surface told a tale of stealth and intention. A creature of some sort had indeed passed this way, disturbing the tranquility of your sanctuary.

You had sought solace in this barren place to offer your prayers. A giant Weirwood tree stood beside your modest dwelling, and you made offerings to it every day, seeking guidance. Your parents, who ruled House Knott, were determined to marry you off to an elderly Lord from the Stormlands. Desperate for someone to intervene, anyone at all, you turned to this sacred spot for help, but as it seemed, you were not entirely safe here.

Through gaps in the trees where moonlight penetrated, you saw it; a figure, cloaked in darkness paused momentarily at a clearing futher down. Its silhouette was hunched over as if peering at something in the snow.

Silently, like a wolf stalking its prey, you advanced cautiously towards it. Your heart pounded in your chest like a war drum as each breath became shallow and measured under stress. As you moved closer, an unexpected gust of wind swept through the trees making them groan under their icy load.

Spooked by the sudden noise, you gripped your axe tighter and lifted it up high, expecting the figure - a man in a cloak with fur over his shoulders - to jump up and attack you as soon as he thought you had let your guard down. He was most likely a poacher, trying to hunt down a skinny rabbit or a winter fowl.

“Poaching will get you hanged. Know that you are on the lands of House Knott and I shall bring you to the Lord if I catch you stealing from us,” you said calmly, your ax hanging over the man’s head. “And if you wish to attack me, I’ll lob your head off clean.”

The man quickly turned to face you, his eyes wide with surprise. He rose slowly, hands lifted in a placating manner. The man was tall, towering over you, and the moonlight revealed a wild shock of black hair and stormy grey eyes that seemed to carry a certain depth of experience and wisdom. There was something captivating about the way he looked at you, an intensity coupled with an unexpected warmth that was unlike any stranger you've encountered before.

“Easy there, m’lady,” he said, his voice resonating in the windless night. He cocked a small grin, his teeth white against his rugged features. His northern accent only added to his charm. “I’m no poacher, nor do I seek to harm you or rob your lands. I’m merely looking for shelter.”

His cloak billowed as he moved away from you towards a loneset tree nearby. In the dim light, you noticed a direwolf sigil stitched onto his cloak - the sigil of House Stark. An unexpected chill ran down your spine as realization hit.

"Lord Cregan Stark?" You questioned aloud, disbelief tinting your voice.

The man - Lord Stark - turned back to face you, giving a small nod as he surrendered jokingly with a chuckle. “Indeed," he confirmed in amusement, "Didn’t mean to startle you.”

A thousand questions danced in your mind as your grip on the axe loosened but did not let go completely. The Warden of the North standing before you in your family’s sanctuary in the Woods was something straight out of legends and ballads sung by minstrels at feasts.

“I… I can give you shelter, my Lord. Though it is only a small hut… It surely won’t live up to your expectations,” You mumbled and courtsied, trying to suppress the blush that formed on your cheeks.

Your mother has told you about Lord Stark, but seeing him there, in the moonlight, made you doubt her words. He was strikingly handsome, not at all boorish and violent like she had told you.

“Though, my Lord, if I may be so bold, I would’ve appreciated it greatly if you would have just knocked. I was prepared to hack you to pieces.”

Lord Cregan eyed you over. “Your hut? Are you Lady Knott? I thought she was an old hag, sitting and scheming around in her Keep. You’re decidedly younger and prettier.”

Approaching you slowly, he laid his large, gloved hand on the hilt of his sword. “If you aren’t Lady Knott, then what are you doing here, in the Knott’s Weirwood grove?”

You narrowed your eyes, straightening your posture as you met his gaze. "I am Lady Knott...the younger one," you clarified, feeling the corners of your mouth quirk up in a small smile.

"You might be confusing me with my mother." You watched as the hint of surprise crossed his features before transforming into an appreciative chuckle.

"Well then, that would explain the confusion," Lord Cregan replied, leaning against the tree he had been approaching earlier. He looked at you with renewed interest. "And as for knocking, I thought no one would be occupying this place at this hour. A slight miscalculation on my part."

Your smile widened as you stepped forward, crossing your arms over your chest. "Next time, my lord, take the time to knock. Or better yet, send a raven ahead of time."

His laughter echoed through the grove, a rich and deep sound that resonated within you. "Noted, Lady Knott."

Looking back at him composedly, you added: "But if you're still suspicious of me, Lord Stark, then by all means go back into the forest and sleep there..."

Lord Cregan raised an eyebrow at you. His eyes danced with a playful gleam under the moon's glow. There was a moment of tense silence before he let out another hearty laugh that vibrated through the grove.

"I doubt anyone would be foolish enough to turn away from such generous hospitality,” he answered warmly.

His words filled you with warmth even against the cold wind. He was not what your mother had made him out to be; he was far from it.

"Speaking of hospitality, my lord, would you care to step inside the hut?" you asked, tilting your head towards the entrance of the small dwelling. "I promise I won't hack you to pieces. At least, not tonight."

Once more, his laughter echoed through the trees, creating a symphony with the rustling leaves and nocturnal sounds.

"Lead the way, Lady Knott," Lord Cregan instructed, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as he followed you into the hut. Inside was an array of family relics; old books, carefully crafted tapestries depicting ancient tales from their lands, and one prominent weirwood table where you had been preparing for your moonlit prayers.

You began to explain yourself, your hands nervously fidgeting as you gestured around the sacred space. "I come here often,” you admitted. "A little strange perhaps, for a young noble lady to find solace in such a... rudimentary place. But I find it peaceful."

Lord Cregan's eyes roamed over your treasured sanctum with evident respect. "And tonight?" he asked, glancing back at you as he leaned against one of your stack of books.

A sigh escaped your lips as you braced yourself to confide in this stranger who felt oddly trustworthy. "Tonight... Tonight I came here to pray against my marriage," your voice wavered toward the end.

His brows furrowed curiously and he inclined his head slightly sideways in question. "Against?"

"My parents have arranged my marriage," you clarified hastily. An uneasy laugh escaped your lips as tried to lighten up your confession. "To a sixty year old widower. A Lord from the Stormlands. Lord Symon Dondarrion, they said.”

Shrugging quickly, you put another piece of wood into the hearth and watched the embers reddening. Why were you rambling so? Lord Stark probably did not care.

His silence was unsettling. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he finally broke it with a soft, "I see." His gaze softened, empathy seeping through his glacial eyes as he watched the dancing flames of the hearth reflect in yours.

“And what does the young Lady wish for?" Lord Cregan asked, taking hesitant steps towards you. His sturdy voice echoed in the tight confines of the hut.

Despite his status as a powerful lord, he appeared genuinely interested. You drew in a shaky breath before managing to voice your deepest desire out loud. "To stay in the North," you answered honestly. "To stay where I have grown up, not having to go to… well, almost Dorne. And not having to marry an old man…."

A thoughtful silence fell between you both. Outside, the wind had picked up and was causing the leaves to rustle and twigs to snap under its force. Stark's gaze drifted towards one of your family small tapestries, where large, rugged old men sat next to sour-faced women, wolves and bears at their feet.

"In Winterfell," he began turning his steady gaze back to you, “we have a saying: ‘The lone wolf dies but the pack survives’. At times, alliances made are for survival not just for one individual, but for their kin and their people."

He paused for a moment and sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his head with his gloved hand, before taking it off. The warmth was catching up to him, it seemed. The seriousness faded from his face and he offered you a small smile. "But it doesn't mean that it has to be so bleak.”

The warm fires of the hearth flickered across his rugged features as he stepped closer to you. You could feel your heart drumming louder in your chest as he neared.

"For now, you’re here in the North. Isn’t that… good?”, he said, seemingly trying to cheer you up.

You felt your face flush with embarrassment as you stumbled out of your sodden boots and removed your drenched cloak. It was only then that you realized the inappropriateness of your attire for hosting the esteemed Warden of the North. The topic of your impending marriage also felt uncomfortable to discuss with him.

"Um, yes...I suppose so," you stammered, at a loss for words.

"But...that's not really important right now." Your awkwardness only seemed to grow in his intimidating presence. “If I may be so bold, what were you doing here, north of the Wolfswood, without any guards?”

The corners of Lord Cregan's mouth twitched ever so slightly, as if he was amused by your audacious question. He stood from the stack of books and began pacing the hut, each step measured and silent. "You have a keen sense for observation, Lady Knott," he began, the moonlight streaming through the window to highlight his stern profile.

He paused, leaning against the old ironwood table, his fingers gently brushing over a worn out book that lay there. "In all honesty," he admitted, not looking directly at you, but at the memorabilia scattered across the space. "I'm here on kind of...a pilgrimage."

"A pilgrimage?" you echoed, brows furrowing in confusion. You weren't sure what you expected, but that was certainly not it.

"Yes," he answered simply, before turning to face you properly. His eyes glowed with a certain intensity that made your heart flutter. "In my early youth, I often wandered these woods; it gave me a sense of calm that nothing else could."

"Even though Winterfell is known for its peace and tranquility?" you couldn’t help but jest lightly.

A deep chuckle echoed through the room as Lord Cregan nodded in amusement. "Even then," he confirmed. "Sometimes even the peaceful walls of Winterfell can feel suffocating."

You couldn't help but relate to his confession; even amongst your own family and kinfolk, there were times when you felt bereft of inner peace. It was one of the reasons why you often sought refuge in this secluded hut.

Lord Cregan sought your gaze again, the playful light replaced with a slightly darker one, although not completely sinister. “I think that the Gods have answed both of our prayers, though.”

Sitting down onto your bed, you offered him your chair and gestured towards a large bottle of wine, wordlessly inviting him to pour himself some, if he wished to. “My Lord?”, you asked, not quite knowing what he meant, cocking your head to the side.

Sitting down with a sly smile, he shrugged. “Well, I’m looking for a wife that is not a simpering flower. You’re looking for a strong, young, northern Lord. Or am I wrong, Lady Knott?”

His words hung in the air, creating an electric tension that you could physically feel. The preposterousness of his proposition was too absurd to believe, and yet his confident demeanor suggested he was entirely serious. You hesitated, eyeing him cautiously as if expecting him to erupt into a fit of laughter, revealing it to be a cruel jest. But the man before you remained grave and composed.

The silence stretched out between you like a yawning chasm. His question echoed in your mind, circling around like an insistent buzz. A desperate urge bubbled within you to provide a witty response, anything to alleviate the suffocating heaviness, but words failed to formulate.

Your mouth went dry as dust and for a moment, you worried that you had lost the ability to speak. All you could manage was a weak whisper of "What?" that surely Lord Cregan didn't even hear.

To your surprise, he didn't repeat himself or elaborate on his shocking proposal. Instead, he simply leaned back into his chair and studied you intently as he took a slow sip of the wine you offered him earlier.

A long moment passed before he finally broke the silence, a faint smile gracing his lips. "It's late," he stated simply, standing up from his chair and setting down his cup. You blinked at him in surprise, suddenly realizing how true his words were. The hourglass on your desk indicated that it was way past the hour of the bat.

Lord Cregan made his way towards you, his every movement graceful and measured. He paused, sliding his cloak off, quickly and gently holding your chin in his large hands, making you look up at him. “Tell me if you oppose this. Say the words and I will leave.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as his gaze bore into yours. The fiery intensity, the sheer command in his eyes was insurmountable. His words, though spoken softly, echoed thunderously in your ears. You had always considered yourself a strong-willed woman, not easily swayed by men and their games. But at this moment, looking up at him, you felt a strange fluttering sensation inside you.

The silence extended between you both like a spectral hand reaching out. His statement hung in the chilled air of the room, as if it were suspended on invisible threads. Your heart pounded in the hollow of your chest like a war drum echoing in an empty battlefield.

"Oppose what?" you found yourself asking, your voice barely above a whisper. You held his gaze, your mind racing to comprehend his proposal. Was he suggesting... matrimony? Surely not. The mere suggestion was preposterous.

Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell would never consider someone like you for a wife... would he?

He held your gaze steadily, yet there was a deep gentleness in his eyes that seemed to melt away the icy chill of the room. "Our union," he said simply, his voice quiet yet full of gravity. You blinked up at him incredulously.

Although his words were laced with an undeniable seriousness, you couldn't help but chuckle nervously at the absurdity of it all. "You are jesting." Your words came out as more of a statement than a question.

But the Warden of the North merely shook his head slightly, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Are you suggesting that I am a fool?”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. “Of course not! It’s just… how? How will you tell my parents? What will you tell Lord Dondarrion if he would protest?”

“Your father, Lord Knott, has sworn his allegiance to me. He will do as he is told. And Dondarrion… Do you really think that an old Stormlord will ever wish to come up to the North to fight me?”, he said confidently.

The certainty in Lord Cregan's voice was enough to squelch any remaining doubts swimming in your mind. His magnetic confidence had a way of drawing you in, making you question the foundations of your own thoughts and beliefs.

Still, you couldn't help but let out a dry laugh, leaning back against the bedpost with a hint of incredulity in your eyes.

“Cocksure and audacious. I suppose these are traits that I should expect from the Lord of Winterfell,” you commented wryly, crossing your arms over your chest. A soft light danced in his eyes at your words as he rested his hand on the wooden table, leaning towards you ever so slightly.

"And yet, here we are," he began, his tone mild as he absorbed the weight of your words. "In this secluded little hut, far away from prying eyes and the judgmental gaze of society."

He paused slightly, his gaze softening with an emotion that was too complex to decipher. "Should we not take this opportunity and consider what happiness we could find in one another?"

Your breath hitched at his question, a dull ache spreading through your chest as his words sunk in. The thought of marrying Lord Cregan Stark had never crossed your mind until this moment; it was simply a dream too far-fetched and distant for someone like you to entertain.

And yet, here he was - proposing just that.

A mischievous smile then took over his face, as if he had realized something amusing. “Though I must admit,” he said, moving closer to you till his face was just inches away from yours. “If I wouldn’t have known of your predicament, I wouldn’t have minded your company either. You’re a pretty one, Lady Knott.”

His eyes twinkled in the flickering candlelight, his usually stern facial features smoothed and made softer by the intimate atmosphere. The warmth that radiated from him was infectious, causing an involuntary blush to creep up your cheeks.

“Lady Knott, you're blushing,” he observed, a triumphant smirk etched on his face as he leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze playfully inspected your flustered form before he quickly masked his amused expression with a serious one. “I believe I have chased away all your doubts?”

The faintest hint of uncertainty still lingered within you, yet the way Lord Cregan looked at you made it seem like everything was possible. You nodded at him, mustering a small smile. “I suppose you did.”

He gave you a curt nod in response before pushing himself from his chair, a determined gleam in his wolfish eyes. “Then we waste no more time.”

Tension filled the air as he took your hand, guiding you out of the hut and into the dense underbrush. Despite being bundled in cloaks which you had hastily thrown on, both of you shivered from the cold winds that whipped around you. You led Cregan through the towering forest, feeling his steady and confident stride on the snow-covered terrain. It gave you strength knowing he trusted you blindly, following your lead without question. The howling northern wind only added to the intensity of the moment.

After what felt like an eternity of walking, you stopped abruptly in front of a gigantic Weirwood tree; its bark white as snow and leaves blood-red. There was an air of solemnity around it that commanded respect and awe.

“We are here,” you said simply, turning to look up at him with shaking hands reaching for his. “Are you sure?”

The wind whistled hauntingly through the trees, as if nature herself bore witness to this tremendous decision. Cregan Stark returned your shaky grip and looked deep into your eyes. His gaze was dark and stormy, an echo of the northern lands he led. Yet beneath that cold exterior was a layer of profound certainty, an unwavering resolve that was comforting in its strength.

"More sure than I've ever been," he finally said, his voice carrying the weight of the moment. He turned towards the old Weirwood tree, a symbol of his heritage and upbringing. “May the Old Gods bear witness to our oath.”

With your hands still wrapped in each other's, Cregan led you to the base of the ancient tree. You paused in awe at its size and majesty, feeling both insignificant and profoundly special at the same time. The Weirwood's face seemed to stir with an ancient wisdom as if acknowledging your presence.

Taking a deep breath, Cregan started speaking in earnest. “Before the gods, I declare my intent to wed Lady Knott,” his voice echoed through the silent forest, every word carving itself into existence as it lingered in the air.

He then looked at you, his gaze warm yet intense. "Do you willingly accept this union, Lady Knott? If so, speak your vows before the Weirwood."

For a moment there was silence, you gulped down the lump in your throat before speaking up softly yet firmly, “I do accept this union.” You took a step closer to him, hand slipping out of his to rest on his chest over his heart. “Do you willingly accept this union, Lord Stark?”

A silence fell over the eerie forest, the air seeming to hold its breath as if the trees themselves awaited his answer. Cregan Stark studied your face, a mix of love and solemnity in his gaze. He placed his hand over yours, his heart thudding steadily beneath your touch.

"Yes," he finally replied. His voice was a hushed whisper that nonetheless echoed through the silence, sending flocks of distant birds into flight. "I accept this union willingly." His hand tightened around yours. "With all my heart, Lady Knott."

The Weirwood seemed to shiver in response; its leaves rustling softly against the backdrop of the still night. His vow hung potent in the air, mingling with the soft rustling of leaves and echoing in the distance until it seemed to become one with the heartbeat of the very forest.

Humbled by his words and bearing witness to this union, you felt something in you stir. It was an intoxicating sensation, a heady mix of fear and excitement that made your heart pound in your chest like a war drum.

You both knelt before the Weirwood then, dipping your heads in reverence to the Old Gods. Shivering from more than just the frigid cold as snowflakes kissed your cheeks while they fell delicately from above. “May our lives entwine as tightly as our hands are now,” Cregan said softly, squeezing your fingers gently.

“May we grow old together under their watchful eyes,” you added, holding Cregan’s gaze with a bright smile on your face. The warmth radiating between you two belied the biting cold of winter.

He pulled you up, brushing the powdery snow off your backside. With an impish grin, he hoisted you into his arms and you couldn't help but blush.

"I'm your husband now, my dear. Let's save the 'Lord' title for when you are bouncing on my cock." He planted a playful kiss on your forehead before strutting back to the hut. It was clear he couldn't wait to fulfill his marital duties, making you blush and giggle at his eagerness.

With the Weirwood's milky bark glistening under the moonlight as a silent witness to your secret union, you clung onto Cregan as he carried you back to the hut. Your heart pounded loudly in your chest, every beat echoing the promises of love and devotion you both had made under the ancient tree.

Warm light spilled from the narrow slit of a window, illuminating the path leading to your shared domicile. The wind whipped frosty kisses against your cheeks, but entwined securely in Cregan's arms, you were in a cocoon of warmth that dulled the bite of winter.

He pushed open the door with his foot and set you down gently on the thick fur rug next to the smoldering hearth. His eyes danced devilishly over your body as he shrugged off his cloak, allowing it to fall carelessly onto the floor. He then proceeded to help you out of yours, his fingers lingering on areas he promised himself he would explore later.

While his hands were busy undressing you, his mouth claimed yours in an intense battle of dominance. You responded eagerly, matching his fervor and intensity. His mouth tasted like fire and mulled wine, a heady combination that sent shivers down your spine.

His hands found their way up your body, exploring every inch until they landed on your breasts. He kneaded them gently through your dress, eliciting a small gasp from you. The sound only served to spur him on as he moved swiftly and purposefully, undoing the lacing of your dress before sliding it down around your feet.

You stood naked before him, feeling both vulnerable and powerful as you watched him admiring you. “Having any doubts?”, you asked cheekily, enjoying his rapt attention more than a proper Lady should have.

“Doubts? Ha! Never. I shall thank the Gods every day henceforth for making us meet,” Cregan mumbled huskily as he pulled his clothes off, desperate to be rid of them as soon as he could. “Sit on the bed and open your legs for me. I want to see you… All of you.”

You blushed immensely and did as you were told. When you saw Cregan standing in front of you, just like the Gods had made made him, you couldn’t help but blush. You had never seen a man that made you feel the way he did - everything from his muscular shoulders to his hairy chest down to his big, throbbing member made you go crazy. Was this a dream? It had to be.

“You are stunning,” he whispered reverently as he joined you on the bed. His hands traced over your hips, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he moved upwards to cup your breasts. He teased your nipples lightly before parting your folds with his other hand.

“Cregan,” you moaned as his fingers found their target, sending sparks shooting straight to your core. His digit slid across your wetness before dipping inside, and you couldn’t help but arch your back in response.

“So wet for me already," he rasped, a smirk playing on his lips. “I knew you were a naughty girl from the first moment I saw you.” The teasing continued as he angled his hips, pressing the head of his cock against your cheek, before gently guiding it towards your moistened lips. “Do you want to prove me right, my pretty little wife?”

"Cregan, I… yes,” you mumbled senselessly, gently letting him enter your mouth as he continued stroking your pearl, though as soon as you let your tongue glide around his tips, his movements started becoming more and more erratic.

“Gods, that feels good,” he groaned. Encouraged by his reaction, you continued your ministrations, sucking him deeper into your mouth as he thrust in and out.

It wasn’t long before your moans mingled with his own, creating a symphony of wanton lust and desire that echoed off the walls of the hut. He pulled away abruptly with a groan. “No more," he panted heavily. "I won't last much longer like this."

With one smooth move, he flipped you over onto your stomach, spreading your legs wide apart. You felt him nudge against your entrance, hot breaths fanning over your chest, sending shivers down your spine. “Are you ready for me?”

“I… I think so, Yes…,” you mumbled, shaking in anticipation.

“Wait… Are you still a maiden?” Cregan asked incredulously, gently lowering himself next to you, kissing you and holding you close to him so that you would not get cold. Not being able to do anything else than to nod, you blushed and closed your eyes as you felt his arms wrapping around you and lifting you onto him.

“Oh… I, ah…”, you muttered and blushed as you saw this large, handsome man lying underneath you and grinning up at you.

“Hush, you needn’t say anything. Just do whatever feels good for you. I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered and laid his hands onto your hips.

Your heart was racing as you felt Cregan's strong, calloused hands slip you onto him, giving you the control over the situation. Blushing, as you felt the heat of his skin against your own, you braced yourself for the slight pain that would come, yet breathed it out before sinking onto his cock with a small moan, your cheeks heating up even more.

The bed dipped under your combined weight as he grasped your waist and thrust gently upward, pushing himself further inside. Your body reacted instinctively, latching onto him with every inch until he's buried to the hilt inside you.

“Good girl… Fuck…” Cregan mumbled and gently held you down, gazing up at you with incredulous eyes.

You tried to focus on something other than the sensation, but it was impossible. His muscled, hairy chest rose and fell with each ragged breath beneath you while his hands roamed down your back—smooth skin meeting soft curves—and grasping your ass cheeks firmly. He held you there with one hand while the other slid between your legs, pushing against that sensitive spot between them that made your toes curl just from the touch.

“Oh G-gods…”, was all you managed to stutter out as you felt yourself tightening around him.

You let out a tiny moan as you began to move, rocking your hips gently back and forth as he groaned and shivered underneath you. Each thrust sent wave after wave of pleasure through every nerve ending in your body, making it impossible not to squirm. His cock was long and thick inside you, filling you completely as you took control of the pace. As he raised himself up on his elbows and took one of your breasts, gently pinching your nipple, you squealed and felt your release washing over you, barely able to hold yourself over him.

“Just like that, my girl… You’re perfect…”, Cregan mumbled as he gently guided you under him, kissing you with great fervour as he repositioned himself, gently pressing your thighs down onto your stomach, lifting your feet onto his broad shoulders.

Before you could wonder what he was doing, he pushed himself inside you, making you moan loudly. This angle felt even better than before and you felt giddy at him looming over you, fucking up into you as if you were a dirty harlot and it made you tighten around him even more.

“Cregan, my Lord, I… ah…”

“Shh…” He silenced you with a hungry kiss, grinding his hips against yours in a primal rhythm. The air was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and your moans as he continued pounding into you, each thrust harder than the last. “You're so fucking tight, I can't...”

His words spurred you on, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to go even faster and harder. He obliged, his cock brushing against your insides in all the right places. It didn't take long for the sensations to build up again, but this time it was more intense than before - like a ball of fire deep within your belly that grew bigger and bigger until you couldn't take it anymore.

“Cregan, I… I can’t...”

“That's it, my girl… let it go,” he growled as he thrust one last time, filling you with his hot seed, making your orgasm explode inside of you like a supernova of pure bliss. Your screams echoed through the hut as you shook uncontrollably, both gasping for air as your heartbeats slowed down.

“Well done...”, he panted out. “I knew you'd be... perfect. My Lady Stark.”

#asas fics #cregan stark #cregan stark smut #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd smut #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you

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desertduality · 4 months

Note

Scar & Grian (platonic) movie night for a writing prompt ^^

Okay this one I can actually classify as a snippet ajksdkj it's just under 500 words. I hope you like it!! :D

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“I brought blankets!”

Scar’s triumphant call is the only warning Grian gets before the world goes dark, several pounds of fluffy knitted wool landing directly on his head. Grian grunts and sputters as fibers stick to his tongue, flailing his limbs in an attempt to remove himself from the impromptu bindings. He surfaces with a gasp, blankets falling into a pile behind him, hair staticky and sticking up at odd angles. He whips his head around to glare at Scar, standing behind him doubled over in breathless laughter.

“Just for that,” Grian says, turning back to fiddle with the projector. “I get to choose the movie.”

Scar’s laughter cuts off comically fast, and Grian has to bite his cheek to suppress his own giggling, giddy excitement bursting behind his ribcage. It’s way too fun to rile Scar up.

“What, no!” Scar cries, and Grian doesn’t even have to look to know he’s doing his best begging eyes. “You said you’d watch Star Wars with me! You pinky promised, Grian!”

“One of those blankets was weighted, Scar. You could have killed me,” Grian says, turning around, and— Yep, there were the eyes. He steadfastly ignored them. “Or worse, you could have broken the projector.”

“Fine,” Scar replies, sitting down crosslegged with a huff, leaning back against the couch and starting to remove his leg braces. “Movie night is sacred. I won’t throw things on movie night.”

“Any other time is fair game,” Grian agrees, nodding, grabbing the remote and scooting backwards until he’s next to Scar. “Alright, which one was it that you wanted to watch?”

“We should marathon,” Scar suggests brightly, producing a bag of popcorn out of thin air and loudly opening it. “We can start with the first one. Not the prequels, the actual first movie.”

“Just a heads up, I will be falling asleep,” Grian warns, clicking onto the first movie and tugging blankets over them both. “And that is not an invitation to draw on my face.”

“Make it through the first movie, at least, and I’ll spare you,” Scar jokes, flinging a piece of popcorn at him with a cheeky grin. “If you don’t, I do have a sharpie with me. Be warned.”

“I can’t believe you plan for this stuff,” Grian complains, rolling his eyes with a quiet laugh. “I’ll try, Scar. Happy?”

“Do or do not,” Scar says imperiously, eyes flashing with gleeful mischief. “There is no try.”

“You are insufferable.”

“I love you, too!”

Grian shoves Scar lightly on the shoulder, both of them with amused grins on their face, and popcorn bounces out of the bag onto their laps. Just a typical movie night, really. Leaning back into the couch cushions, Grian points the remote and presses play. The bold yellow text starts scrolling down the screen, music blaring from the speakers, and Scar cheers. Grian sighs, longsuffering and fond, and sets the remote down on the ground.

(He wakes up in the morning with poorly drawn cat whiskers on his face, looks down at Scar snoring on the floor next to him, and happily returns the favor.)

#fluffy desert duo the beloved <33 #thank you anon for the prompt!!#grian #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #desert duo #my writing #writing request

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itsabouttimex2 · 24 days

Text

Monkiefam: Part 0

Midnight Malaise

(Part Zero) (Part One) (Part Two)

It doesn’t particularly surprise the troop when you sneak out of your room. Both of them are fully aware that you often wander around at night like this. They know that you aren’t getting enough rest, that you aren’t eating properly.

The house is silent, save for the occasional rumbling snore from Wukong. You’ve been told to never leave your room at night- but that’s more of a suggestion than a stone-set rule. Really, as long as you don’t leave the bounds of the house, they have no trouble with your little late-night adventures.

Even the garden outside isn’t off limits, as long as you don’t go past the fences.

And beside- it’s peaceful tonight. It’s no more dangerous than taking one little stroll out in Megapolis to see the moonlight.

…you’ve come to miss Megapolis. The mountain was absolutely enchanting at first, but that was back when you thought that being here was merely a choice.

Before you had asked one of the monkeys to bring you home, and received a very firm “no”. And then went and asked the other one, only to quickly receive the same answer again.

Before all that, Flower Fruit Mountain had been lovely and welcoming.

You sit at the bottom step of the stairs, taking a moment to grab both of your shoes, wishing you had something a little sturdier. But anything that would hold up outside the soft soil of the flower garden was kept well out of your reach.

And even then, these compliant and squishy sandals are sometimes hidden to keep you inside.

MK finds you before you’ve even got the first shoe on. The kid peels it out of your hand and tosses it against the other, knocking them both into the wall.

He settles down on the same step and leans against you, pressing into the warmth offered by skinship. It’s a habit of his, a desire for touch- he’s incredibly trigger-happy with affection. The hero leans his head against your shoulder, taking in the scent of you. You smell of linen and soap and home. Too much time spent hiding in the laundry room, buried under mounds of fresh blankets and warm sheets. Something that helped to remind you of simpler days. It makes him smile, how comforting that scent is.

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?” No malice. No anger. Just love. And a strong note of worry.

There’s no point in lying. If you’re up this late, it’s because you want to go out to the garden and lay among the flowers and pretend that you’re anywhere but this sacred mountain.

“…I wanted to get some fresh air.”

“Not while it’s this late. It’s not safe.” He’s pretty firm about this- there’s too much worry to consider other options aside from the frequent “no” you always seem to receive. He looks at you and speaks, his voice almost reverent with love. “Instead, how about I make you a bowl of noodles and then you go to bed?”

“…I’m not really all that hungry, MK.”

“Yes you are.” He’s even more firm with that response. “I’m not asking if you’re hungry, I’m telling you. It’s been three days, Y/N. This isn’t healthy for you at all!

MK doesn’t give you a further chance to respond, just scooping you up and and walking off to the kitchen. This might’ve been harder for him, once… but you’ve lost a lot of weight during your stay.

Sitting you into a cushioned chair, MK’s humming quietly as he prepares the noodles. A well-learned cook, he’s picked up on a lot from his lessons with Pigsy- who is often stern with his training. But, even in something such as this generational cooking, you can see the kindness and gentleness MK possesses.

So you stay there in the chair, almost patiently waiting at the table. The most you do is quietly drum your fingers against the wood. Although you’re not too big on eating lately, you aren’t really brave enough to argue with the members of your ‘family’.

“It’s ready!” He slides you a bowl of steaming, delicious noodles- the savory and herbal scent alone is enough to make your mouth water. He nudges the bowl closer. He’s clearly put a lot of care and effort into making the meal, and he’s not leaving until you’ve tried it. The kid looks determined, and a little bit upset?

Maybe he’s just that worried.

With a sigh, you reluctantly tuck into the noodles and take a few deep bites.

It’s not that they’re bad. In fact, they’re objectively pretty delicious. You just… haven’t had much of an appetite lately.

MK beams at you, watching with a soft smile as you eat. “Do you like it? I made as close to Pigsy’s as I could!” He gently nudges the bowl closer, trying to get you to eat even more.

“…it’s good,” you grudgingly confess, quickly finding that your words come out slurred. There’s… something herbal in here, I think…?”

“It’s a dash of ginger for warmth and good sleep,” he says, voice cheery to mask his omission. A half-truth reaches your ears, MK leaving out the real ingredient: a ground sprig of valeriana jatamansi, it’s sedating impact enhanced by growing beside the mystical rivers of Flower Fruit Mountain.

And if you had known that, you would know that Sun Wukong had coordinated this plan with MK, giving him the herb to grind down and add to your bowl.

And after just half the bowl, your eyes are fluttering and the chopsticks waver in your hand.

He rushes forward, practically tearing the wooden sticks out of your hands before standing you back on your feet. “Bed. Now.” His voice is uncharacteristically firm, urgent. He’s a lot more serious now, almost desperate. His worry is evident in his tone.

You try to dig your feet into the wooden flooring, attempting to pull free from his grasp. “N-no, I won’t. L-let… let go.”

MK’s grip is a surprisingly strict one, though he’s quite soft while doing it. The kid’s strength only really comes into play when someone’s health or safety is at risk. He’s stronger than he looks. More importantly, he’s worried enough to drop his usual gentleness. His grip tightens, dragging you behind him as he moves onwards.

He leads you; not up the stairs to your room, but across the house to Wukong’s.

“Heh. Finally got ‘em to eat something, bud? Good job,” he says, lightly ruffling his student’s hair. “I’m proud of you.”

And MK nearly buckles at the knees, overloaded with warmth and happiness. It’s only the fact that he’s holding you now that keeps the boy from throwing himself into the affection being offered.

“Alright, both of you- get in and get comfy. We’re sleeping in tonight.”

MK tosses your nearly unconscious form to his mentor, who then tucks you in nice and tight. “There’s one of my kids… come on bud, you’re up next!”

With a gleeful laugh, the affection-seeking boy squishes in beside you, throwing his arms all around your waist.

Wukong’s chest rumbles with a deep and contented purr, nuzzling you against his fur. He bears the scent of peaches and wildflowers, sun-beaten grass and sweet honey. “Hey there, cub.” The simian’s voice is both gentle and warm, the same as the arms he wraps around you. His entire body radiates a sense of protection and safety.

“Feeling sleepy?” The Great Sage asks, one ginger-furred hand hand cupping your cheek so he can tilt your head to him.

Without a word, the simian studies your face, wearing a sad, fond smile. He can sense your unrest, your deep sorrow, the anguish of your separation from the home you adored. His ancient heart aches with worry. He’s wanted to hug you, to hold you, to ease your sadness with the power of his embrace for so long now…

And all it took to get you here was one little herb…

It’s certainly not something that he or his student will ever regret.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere MK #Yandere Sun Wukong #Monkiefam #TW: Drugging

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slafkovskys · 5 months

Note

quinn and jack have to be there for angel to pick up the broken pieces when luke leaves. i can imagine she’s a wreck

the aftermath

she doesn’t fully process what had happened until well into the next day when she finally turns her phone on and quinn blames jack for everything that ensues thereafter. he was the one who had suggested that she at least let her parents know where she was and that she was okay, just taking a few mental days.

as she was typing out those exact words, a banner flashes at the top of her screen:

njdevils

luke hughes has rejoined the team in florida and will be a game time decision.

her phone clatters to the floor, startling quinn awake where he had dozed off beside her on the couch and summoning jack from the kitchen. she feels her heart start to pound and she feels like she can’t breathe as they both rush to figure out what’s wrong, “i- i can’t-”

“i need you to breathe for me right now, angel. you’re doing so well. you’re safe with us, just please breathe,” jack coaxes as he bends down in front of her, resting his hands on her knees. she hears quinn pick up her phone off of the floor and he lets out a string of curse, “what happened?”

quinn’s eyes scan the screen before he shakes his head, “luke-”

“he’s gone,” she blinks, uttering the words for the first time. through tears she stares at the two men, the ones who hadn’t so much as thought about leaving her side since the moment they had arrived to the place that, over time, had become something so sacred to all of them, “he’s really gone. he left me.”

they watch as her hand carefully touches her stomach over the blanket. jack swallows and quinn reaches for her hand, “angel-”

“i though that he was coming back, quinny,” she whispers and the oldest in the room sighs because, truthfully, they all had. no one dared to bring up their missing piece, but they all thought that maybe he just needed time to process the information that he had been given and afterwards, he would return to them. quinn knew luke had stayed the night at their parents based off of a very confused text from ellen, but he never once thought luke would rejoin the team so quickly, leaving them to pick up the pieces of what he had done. “i- he doesn’t love me any more.”

“oh, angel.”

when a storm rolls in later in the day, she finally lets her eyelids flutter closed with her head tucked into jack’s side while keeping a tight grip on quinn’s arm as rain pelts against the windows. jack runs a hand over her hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head, “what are we supposed to do?”

“we have to be here for her, support her,” quinn mumbles the words his mother had told him when he called her the night before. he had only given her a brief synopsis of the situation, why luke had shown up at her doorstep in the middle of the night and wouldn’t say a word, leaving as quickly as he had come by morning. he gently runs his fingers along her hand, “she just got left by someone who was supposed to love her. he was the first one to love her, jack. can you imagine what she’s going through right now?”

jack sighs, “confusion, scared, anger.”

“exactly. i mean, i know what i want to do, but,” quinn pauses when she twitches, “it isn’t what she would want. so for now, we just have to be here.”

and they are.

the next day quinn is gearing up to make a quick trip to the store for some oatmeal she had mumbled something about wanting earlier in the morning when she stops him at the door to the garage. she shifts her weight from foot to foot, pulling on the sleeves of the sweatshirt she’s quite literally stolen from jack’s suitcase, “are you leaving me too?”

“angel, no,” he melts seeing his girl so vulnerable. he instantly sets the keys back on the counter and crosses the room, pulling her into his arms, “i was just going to go get a couple of groceries. i’ll be back in an hour.”

she sniffles, balling the fabric of his hoodie into her hands, “do you promise me that you’re coming back?”

and quinn couldn’t handle that, so, “jack, get your shoes! we’re all going to the grocery store.”

they spent the next four days with her at that lake house. there’s enough talk, enough rumors floating around about why luke returned so quickly, but jack was still missing after a week, but they were careful to shield her from those. even more careful to shield her from the articles speculating about whatever had pulled luke away from the team for a measly thirty six hours had obviously affected his play, causing him to be benched the entire third period of the florida game and a healthy scratch for the next game in st. louis.

they talk over that time, she even laughs a little bit.

they bake all of the things that she had bought for herself because to quote jack, “they’ll be ruined by the time we’re home for summer.”

they eat too many cookies and a couple of cakes, make cinnamon rolls from scratch and even have lucky charms for dinner more than once.

they restarted grey’s anatomy and get through a scary amount of seasons during those six days and they all swear never to utter a word to anyone about it. they also watch the entire harry potter franchise (twice) and angel finally convinces quinn to take the sorting quiz.

and on the last night, they make plans, new ones, for the three of them. well, four, technically. they rewrite everything they had done over the last three years, trying to figure out to the best of their ability how much their dynamic was going to change. visits and living arrangements could wait until summer, jack suggests, that was too much stress right now. she still needed to graduate and she had enough on her plate as it was, so that was placed on the back burner.

as they had done since luke had gone six days earlier, they all pile into quinn’s bed because it was the biggest. she was in the middle and quinn and jack lay on either side, close enough where she could feel them at any point in the night. she wanted them close, to know they were still there, and they were more than willing to oblige.

it wasn’t going to be easy, they all agreed over microwave s’mores and dudley being trapped in a snake enclosure, but love never is.

#hughes bros x angel #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #my work

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leovenuslatina · 6 months

Text

Dear you 💖

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

a love letter from your fs 💝

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

psa - this PAC is a little different this is more a channeled message than a tarot reading enjoy!

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

* take a deep cleansing breathe

and pick a pile that calls to you *

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

pile 1

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

Dear pile one, I am absolutely thrilled to express my utter joy and excitement at the mere thought of being in your presence. It feels like an exhilarating adventure filled with endless possibilities. When I am with you, time seems to stand still as we embark on an enchanting journey of love and inspiration. Your warmth and comfort embrace me like a cozy blanket, providing solace to my weary soul. Every moment spent together is cherished, as we create unforgettable memories and share the deepest of conversations. Your companionship brings out the best version of myself, igniting a flame within that cannot be extinguished. In your delightful company, I find solace, encouragement, and a sense of belonging that surpasses all expectations. Pile one, you are my safe haven where happiness thrives and dreams come alive – and for that, I am eternally grateful.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

pile 2

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

Oh "Dear Pile Two, You Complete Me" - how you fill my life with joy and clutter! As I gaze upon your haphazardly stacked papers, misplaced knick-knacks, and random odds and ends, I can't help but feel an inexplicable sense of fulfillment. You are like the missing puzzle piece to my organized chaos. Who needs a meticulously tidy workspace when they can have the delightful chaos of a well-curated pile? From bills that need paying (eventually) to notes scribbled on Post-it's, you hold the irreplaceable treasures of my forgetful mind. Sure, some may scoff at your seemingly disorderly nature, but little do they know the hidden wisdom within your disarray. So here's to you, oh magnificent dear pile two - although your tidiness might be questionable, your charm is unmatched.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

pile 3

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

Dear pile 3, it's only you and me against the world. As I stand here, overlooking the vastness of our existence, I can't help but feel the weight of the universe pressing down upon us. It is in this moment that I realize the magnitude of our relationship, for within your embrace lies all that we hold dear. The world may attempt to tear us apart, but we shall prevail. Our bond is forged through the trials and tribulations we have faced together; a stronghold against adversity. As the tempest rages around us, threatening to consume all that we hold sacred, know that I am steadfast by your side. Our unity imbues me with an unwavering strength; no longer alone in this tumultuous journey through life's torrential storms. Together, pile 3, we defy fate and conquer uncertainty as champions of love and resilience.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

pile 4

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

Dear Pile 4, you are my perfect person. The mere thought of your existence fills me with an indescribable mix of joy and longing. Every fiber of my being yearns for your touch, for the sound of your voice whispering sweet nothings into my ear. In this chaotic world, you are the anchor that keeps me grounded, the lighthouse that guides me through stormy waters. Your presence brings clarity to my thoughts and purpose to my existence. From the deepest depths of my soul, I believe that we were destined to be together - two halves of a whole seeking solace in each other's arms. Yet, fate continues to test our resolve, placing seemingly insurmountable obstacles in our path. But fear not, for I shall endure any hardship and surmount every challenge to be by your side. For you, dear Pile 4, are worthy of every sacrifice and every drop of blood spilled in this epic battle against destiny itself.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

#black tarot readers #pick a pile #future spouse #channeled reading #pick a card tarot #tarotcommunity #daily tarot #tarot #tarot cards #tarot daily #tarotblr #love reading #love messages #lovers #i love them

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ladyosiriscreates · 4 months

Note

hi lady osiris!! thank you for offering to take my soap request 💛

can we get a little something about soap x stressed out reader? where she’s had a super long, difficult week?? how would he help her unwind?

Oh I do love this, as someone who is a permanently exhausted pigeon herself and stressed to the max. Let's explore shall we?

Please forgive me, I've never written an x reader before so I do hope you enjoy lovey!

Soap x Fem!Reader for sweet @soapsgf 4.1k words

Tags: Comfort, Smut, mans is good with his hands and better with his mouth. m on v, unprotected sex, fluff, so much fluff.

It had never been uncommon for John Mactavish to fill the silence with his voice, the lilt of it a familiar sound within your apartment. But he'd noticed little changes through the week, what silence did remain wasn't comforting, the dishes and clutter piling up around you even as your eyes darted anxiously about, making tallies on an ever growing list of things needed to be done.

He noted the way you counted on your fingers, twisting and pinching at the skin of your knuckles as if looking for something to ground yourself. Your hands always seeking in their restlessness, a mind that couldn’t quiet even in your sleep.

“M’eudail… What's eating at you? You know I can help you better if we talk about this…” He beckoned, nearly pleading as he drew you into his arms. “Ye cannae deny it at this point, I’ve watched you circle the kitchen four times holding a glass and doing nothing with it.”

“The dishes-” you gasped, pressing your palm to your forehead and groaning. “That’s right, I have to do the dishes so I can take back the casserole dish to Diane, and then I can clean the counter, and make-”

His lips cut off your words, silencing them as his hands found your cheeks, thumbs massaging at the supple flesh. “Fuck the dishes and fuck Diane, she’s been a right cunt lately anyways, I remember you complaining about her monday. She can wait a day or two more for a damn casserole dish. Now. Do ye work tomorrow?” He asked, forehead gently pressed to yours. It was the first he’d felt you relax in days as you melted beneath his touch, your only reply a soft nod to his question.

The glass was stolen from your hand and placed onto the counter as he turned and ushered you towards your bedroom. A sacred place often shared between the two of you. Though he hadn’t moved in yet, it didn’t stop either of you from sharing a wardrobe, having drawers in each other's dressers, a toothbrush in each other's holders, and more haircare products than two people could ever possibly use. Your room was a haven, draped in soft pink and gray blankets with candles and trinkets brought back from his deployments. His favorite was a large glass jar full of rocks. On every deployment since you’d met, before you even started dating he’d brought back a rock, writing in sharpie the day he had picked it up for you. You each set your favorite rock in front of the jar to always be well and truly displayed- the pair having been chosen on one of your first dates together. You’d gone camping, and at the lakes rocky beach you proposed a game. Find rocks that looks like the others eye colors, closest to matching won. It had been almost too easy a win for you, finding a rock so bright and blue-gray with speckles of quartz that made it glitter. The smug look on your face when you’d found it, the gentle whoop and cheer as you won had been more than enough for him to fall in love right then and there.

Gone was that smile from your face, something that ached at him as he closed his eyes for a moment to picture its light. “Yer gonna rest here, okay? I’ll go wash Diane’s damned casserole dish. Ye can take it to work with you in the morning. S’alright if I stay here with you tonight? Miss my girl.” He teased, hooking a hand beneath your thigh and lifting you up onto the edge of the bed. It never failed to surprise you just how easily he lifted your weight, tossing you around like his own personal ragdoll from time to time.

He set you on the bed, slowly peeling away layers of clothes and tossing them into a nearly full hamper before bringing out one of his tee shirts and pulling it over your frame. “There’s my bonnie little thing.”

“‘M not a thing.” You muttered, biting down on the inside of your cheek indignantly- just to hear his soft laugh.

“Yer right, not a thing. No… M’eudail, yer everything.” He mused, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before drawing his arms about you and nestling your anxious body back to the sheets. “...I know you’re not ready to talk about it now, that you need to sort through the things in your head yourself first before you can explain it… but I’m here, I will be here until the day you no longer let me stand beside you.” He promised, the words flowing forth like water from a spring. It comforted him just as much as he hoped it comforted you when he felt you nuzzle into his chest, eyes closed and breathing beginning to settle.

But for all your stress, the things you wouldn't talk about- you didn't snap. You didn't take it out on him or silence him. He almost wished you would. Anything to hear your voice and coax you back to him. Johnny knew you tended to isolate when your mind climbed to new and stressed heights, so to be allowed this glimpse into your mind, to be walked hand in hand through the turbulence of your soul- it was a greater gift than he knew how to accept. Only to hope that you would allow him to do it for the rest of your lives.

“Ye don’t know it yet…” he whispered against your settling form, kisses pressed to the top of your head, breathing in the familiar scent of your hair. He was glad you fell asleep quickly, keeping his words soft as not to rouse you. “But you saved me. Took a man with aimless devotion to his work and grounded him. Brought him back from a ledge so many walk off. I used to dread coming home, craved the firefight and relentless rush of fighting for my life. But god damn it all, you’ve given me something real to fight for. Now you’re just the one thing I come home to. I wake up glad for you… I guess, what I’m trying to say- know we haven’t said it yet… but I’m in love with you. The good, the bad, every piece of you that you show to me just gives me more to love. I’m so in love with you, and I can’t wait for you to wake up so I can say it to your face.”

He waited an hour or so more before temporarily untangling your limbs, taking his phone to the living room and sitting down to make a call. A familiar voice made him smile, though it sounded annoyed to be woken so late.

“Tavish, what do y’need?” Price asked, clearing his throat of sleep. “Better be good if yer waking me up for it.”

“Aye, know you need yer beauty sleep, Cap. But I’m hoping to get the next couple of days off.” He exclaimed, knee bouncing as he rested his other arm over his knee.

“Everything okay? Not in trouble are you?” He followed up, clearly more alert. Because while not as bad as Simon, getting Johnny to take time off from work was like pulling teeth. “No one died?”

This caused a small laugh to escape him, unable to contain his own humored emotion. “No, Sir. No one died… i… ah.” he cleared his throat. “My girl needs me. She’s having a tough time, and always makes herself available f’r me… ‘bout time I returned the favor. ‘M gonna tell her I love her.”

The silence that spread between them was thick, nearly audible surprise in Price’s voice when he spoke again. “How long-”

“Eight months. Last time you sent me on leave for a month, I met her picking up some books for my ma and sis. I didn’t want to say ‘nything till I knew it was… serious. But it’s serious… I think this is it for me Cap. She is it for me.” He exclaimed, eyes warm as he stared at the coffee table before him. “She feels like home just as much if not more than the 141 does. She’s patient with me, accepts that she may never understand what I do but will never stop me from doing it… I want you all to meet her soon.”

Price’s voice was notably softer now, pride swelling within him. It was all he’d ever hoped for his boys, to find something just as important to him as the work. To open themselves up in ways he hadn’t yet been able to. “Is a week enough?”

“Cap- I was only asking for a few days-” Johnny began.

“A week. If she’s having a hard time, give ‘er the world… show her the meaning behind your feelings and your words, Tav. Do Simon and Kyle know?” He asked.

“They’ve had inklings… but you’re the first person I’ve confirmed anything to.” Johnny admitted, turning over a book that rested on the edge of the coffee table, the phone resting comfortably in his other hand. “Thank you, Cap. I… can’t wait for you guys to meet her. She’s absolutely brilliant… and mine. ‘M not sharin…” He exclaimed.

Their conversation ended with pleasantries and the agreed upon reasoning that would be put on his paperwork before he returned to bed, pulling you back into his arms to keep you there till morning came.

He pretended to remain sleepy and nestled in after you kissed his forehead goodbye, only jumping from the bed when he heard the door lock behind you. So much to do and so little time to do it. Eight hours and counting as he cracked his knuckles, putting on some dance-y pop music to get the day going. There was nothing like hearing a scottish lilted rendition of Dirty Mind by 3OH!3 and Last Friday Night by Katy Perry. And he made sure to record little bouts of it between chores, saving the videos to show you later.

His start was the rest of the dishes, picking them up from all over the apartment, handwashing what needed a bit of extra help before loading the rest into the dishwasher and running it. Next, he took your laundry, sorting it and starting the largest load he could. All of this was about you, for you… his love. To ease the burden resting on your shoulders, the weight that threatened to bend you till you broke.

While the dishes and laundry ran, he swept and vacuumed, rearranging the furniture to make sure no spot was missed. Your books were stacked on the coffee table, his sketchbook and pencils set beside it. It was your best friend he called next, asking for the recipe for her chicken and gnocchi that you loved so dearly, making a quick run to the grocery store to pick up ingredients. There he also picked up an assortment of desserts, cannolis, ice cream, and cheesecake, a lactose intolerant persons nightmare… or daydream, knowing how willing to ignore their intolerance most were. When you texted to say that work was making you stay a couple hours extra, he only sighed in relief. While it annoyed him that they were keeping you from coming home to him, he was glad for more time to better set up his surprise.

Some people would think perhaps it was strange to buy three of the same candle, but now that he was back in your apartment, he put one on the coffee table, one on your desk, and the third in the kitchen. Sweet Mint and Grapefruit. Something comforting and uplifting, just like how he hoped to have you. On the chair closest to the door, he laid out soft pajamas, intent to have you out of your work clothes and leaving that world behind you, if even only for the weekend. Clothes were folded and put away from the laundry, your bed made as a pot simmered on the stove. The realization that he loved you had hit him like a freight train, making his heart soar and sing, so to see you so stressed and pained… he felt it at his core.

The door unlocking had him perked like a dog, vaulting the back of your couch to meet you at the door, his hands on your forearms with an earsplitting smile. “Mo ghràdh…” He swallowed, watching as the startled confusion faded to recognition, a tired and strained smile pressing to your lips.

“Johnny, sunshine… lemme get my shoes and stuff off- WHATAREYOUDOING JOHN AIDAN MACTAVISH-”

But your shriek only spurned him further, soft laughter tearing from his throat as he lifted you easily past the threshold and taking your bag to set it on the ground. “Turn your brain off, Mo ghràdh. Just let me handle… everything.” He cooed, catching your eyes as they wandered about your freshly spotless apartment.

“Johnny… when did you…” but your words stalled again as he sank to his knees before you, eyes light with hunger and reverence.

“Called into work. I’m yours for the whole next week… Cap pulled some strings for me.” He explained, watching your eyes widen and water. Any words of dissent fell away as his hands smoothed over your hips, bringing his face to your abdomen as his fingers dipped into the waistband of your clothes. “Ya had a long day, hen… tha’s not lost on me… and the weeks been so hard for ya… just let me take care of it, let me take care of you. Can ye be a good girl and let me do that for you?” Johnny hummed, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Only when he felt you melt into his touch, your eyes closing a nod consenting to his actions, did he continue. His hands left your hips to remove your shoes and socks, a kiss pressed to your clothed knee as he did. “My pretty bird… so sweet for me… working so hard to make everyone happy, you just forget about yourself do ye? Not a soul in this world deserves your kindness, your smile… hell, let alone me. The fact that I get it at all?” He sighed contently, tugging the waistband of your pants down, and your underwear with it. “Perhaps that’s the closest I’ll ever get to heaven… and I couldn’t be more glad for it. Glad for you to have waltzed your way into my life and made a home in my heart.”

The flush that had grown on your cheeks, the warmth that spread through your body as his touch wandered over beautifully scarred skin, kissing freckles and dimples, anything that could be considered an imperfection by a society that had forgotten what love and devotion truly were. His hands caressed from thigh to waist, bringing your shirt up over your arms, guiding you forward just enough that he could pull it over your head and press his lips to your forehead once more. “Yer perfect f’me… so perfect.” He breathed, pushing up on his knees to wrap his arms around you, chin resting just at the lowest part of your sternum as he flicked his fingers, your bra coming undone and falling slack off your shoulders.

He relished in the sigh that left your lips, enjoying that bras existed only so he could remove them from your beautifully painted body. “My cliodna, my venus, my very own aphrodite. Not a single thing in this world is more precious than my girl…”

“Johnny…” You groaned, turning your head away to hide the ever growing flush at your cheeks.

“Please look at me…” He bid, eyes wide and almost puppyish as he pressed ticklish kisses to your naval, facial hair gently scratching at the skin to make you jump into him. When he saw your gaze back upon him, a boyish grin crossed his face, wedging your legs apart as he walked you back to the door to lean against it. “Oh, Mo ghràdh, don’t look at me like that, makes it hard to think.” Johnny teased, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder. “Hold on if you need to, but I promise I’ve got you.”

And when he looked at you like that, as if he were a man gazing upon salvation, how could you not believe him?

Any thoughts were quickly interrupted by his kisses as they trailed lower before pressing against the sensitive apex at the top of your heat. Unbeknownst to you, his devotion had already taken affect as he felt wetness against his tongue, savoring the ragged gasp that left your lips like a starved man.

Fingers dug at the fleshy part of your hips, his chin inclining as his lashes fluttered, eyes rolling back as he began a sweet and unyielding pace. He was yours, so deeply and entirely yours as he doted upon your body, seeking only to hear those familiar and sweet moans that showed just how you were feeling. Because while your mind may betray you, your voice and body never could, not when he was between your legs.

Your hands fell to the longer, thickened and somewhat curly hair of his mohawk, fingers curling into it as you momentarily debated whether to push him back or- no, no, you pulled him closer, hips canting against his lips with a breathy cry as his other hand slipped down between your legs, two fingers finding their way inside to curl and thrust against the spongy heat that craved to be full. As you whispered a soft apology for pulling his hair so roughly, you were silenced by his own moan, your eyes meeting for only a moment as you caught sight of his flushed cheeks and blown pupils. It was a romantics painting in its own right, the visual opposition of The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabanel, this angel full of endearing passion and idolization.

Your eyes rolled back as his tongue delved deeper, circling your clit as he traced letters over it, something only for him as he savored your sweetness upon his tongue.

I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U. Over and over until he felt your hips begin to tremble, leg buckling as you grew nearer and nearer to release. On different terms, he would have stopped, wanting to draw out and prolong your pleasure as long as he could, torturing you with your release- but not today. Not now, no. That was for a day where his focus was on not only you.

“Sunshine-” you whispered, the breath stuttered along with your hips when his fingers curled against that spot deep inside you, stars bursting in front of your open eyes as your vision went white. Did you scream? Did you moan? You briefly felt a bit of pain on your tongue, a metallic taste spreading across it as you subconsciously bit down, weak whimpers sending your body trembling and tumbling forward into your Johnny.

He was all too happy to sustain you, holding you up and pinning your hips to the door as he lapped up the thick and creamy juices that spilled onto his tongue, face glistening when he finally pulled away with a rough gasp. “All that f’me, princess?” he hummed, rubbing his chin across the inside of your thigh, just to feel your sensitive and overstimulated body jump beneath his touch.

Johnny stood then, carrying you to the bathroom and turning on the shower. It was easy to ignore- well, not easy, but he was more than willing to ignore the aching strain in his pants as he guided you through a shower, your sweet, starstruck gaze on his as you kissed the taste of yourself off his tongue. He didn’t care as his clothes got wet, making sure to take his time as he ran the loufa over your body, scrubbing away the sweat and grime of the day before cleaning each part of you more gently and tenderly. Your hair was washed, your scalp massaged as he hummed softly to you, crooning sweet words of praise and pride. “My pretty girl… so perfect f’me… look at you… jus’ look at you… so gorgeous.”

When the shower ended you were wrapped in a still warm towel and whisked back to the living room, your feet barely touching the ground long enough for you to register it. So this was what it meant to be loved? The words hadn’t been shared between you two, not yet, but it was undeniable now. These acts of service were hardly acts at all, only the truest form of love and devotion as he dressed you just as slowly and tenderly as he’d undressed you.

“Wait…” you slurred, lashes fluttering as you glanced around. “What’s that…”

A cheeky smile crossed his face as he pulled your nightshirt over your body. “Might’ve called your friend for a bit of help…” he exclaimed, taking you to the kitchen and grabbing two bowls. “Think you can eat fer me? I know it’s hard when yer stressed so… thought I might tempt you.” Johnny laughed.

Bowls of food were brought to the table, and when you hesitated to take a bite, he ran his thumb over the corner of your mouth and lifted the spoon to it, feeding you slowly. “There we go… tha’s a good girl… don’t gotta eat it all, just gotta eat enough for me. I’m here, I’m with you… won’t make you talk about it…” He stated, watching as your eyes watered, overwhelmed by the love and devotion shown to you.

“I love you.” You blurted, the words causing your eyes to widen. Stress had melted away as his hands had earlier explored your body, but now it was back, tension coiling in your chest. “I mean-”

“I love you, too.” Johnny exclaimed softly, a slow smile gracing his face- like the sun cresting the horizon after a rainy night. “I love you. Tha gaol agam ort. You and I… this… it’s everything to me. You’re everything to me, and I wanted to show you, really show you just what you mean to me. Not in grand gestures, but… just like this… I want it to always be like this, or better. I want us to keep working towards better, as long as it’s… together.” He stated, setting down the spoon and pressing your foreheads together.

Tears fell as the floodgates burst, your head bowed and elbows resting on the table. It had been too much before, your work life, family life, even health feeling like it was all working against you- and in a moment of anger, you’d convinced yourself you were alone.

But how could that have been true when you had the literal sun before you? You understood now, Icarus and Apollo, Achilles and Patroclus, Odysseus and Penelope. The all encompassing love that drove people to war and compassion.

“I love you.” You wept, the words more freeing than you had ever known them to be.

Dishes were forgotten on the table as he swept you into his arms, an increasingly common action as of late and led you back to your bedroom, laying you down upon soft and silken sheets. “I love you, M’eudail… every piece of you that you had long since abandoned, the parts you didn’t think were capable or worthy of being loved, I love all of it, and if you’ll give it to me, I’ll show you… I promise, and promises are meant to be kept.” He whispered, caging your body in with his own as he acted like a weighted blanket pinning you to the bed.

Your chest screamed for air, as laughter bubbled out between your tears, one hand threading into the back of his mohawk, the other rubbing small circles into his back. “How did I get so lucky?” you whispered, the words a betrayal of your mind.

“You didn’t do anything, Mo ghràdh, just by existing you are worthy of love. Worthy of living a life lighter of stress. Just by existing you have earned and deserved kindness… I am sorry that I am the first one to show you that, especially now.” He whispered, the words soft upon your skin.

“I’ll call into work next week…” You whispered, hiccuping softly as his hands slipped beneath your shirt.

“I didn’t plan to leave you for a moment anyways.” He mused in return. “I love you, M’eudail… my perfect, bonnie love…”

“I love you too, Sunshine. If there’s a place for me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”

“I’m counting on it.”

#cod mw2 #fanfiction #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #soap x reader

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amalythea · 29 days

Text

「 stars 」

⤷ info: kazuha, traveler, venti x gn!reader (separate) || angst-ish || wc: 1180

⤷ warnings: mentions of death (not reader), v sad thoughts, i tried to keep traveler themselves as gn as possible too but please do tell me if i missed something, writing for traveler actually killed my braincells

⤷ extra: i used the prompt xiv. “she’s talking to angels, counting the stars.” from @thexianzhoujade 's personal memoires (of the dearly beloved) event!!

kazuha.

In the tranquil solitude of the night, beneath the vast expanse of stars, you sat on the ground, your silhouette outlined by the gentle glow of moonlight as you gazed up at the stars above. Your heart ached with the weight of loss, your thoughts consumed by memories of your one love Kazuha.

Once, he had been the light of your life, his laughter like music to your ears, his gentle touch a source of comfort in times of need. But now, he was gone, taken from you by a cruel twist of fate, leaving behind only the echo of his presence and a void that seemed impossible to fill.

Every night, you would come to this secluded spot, the one you used to visit together, where the stars seemed to shine just a little brighter. It was here that you had shared your dreams, your hopes, and your love. And it was here that you felt closest to him, as if his spirit lingered among the celestial canvas above.

With a heavy heart, you whispered Kazuha's name into the stillness of the night, your voice barely louder than a breath. "Kazuha," you murmured, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Do you see the stars, my love? Are you watching over me from beyond the veil of the heavens?"

You closed your eyes, letting the memories wash over you like a gentle tide. You remembered the way Kazuha would hold your hand as you sat together beneath the night sky, his words a soothing balm to your troubled soul. And you remembered the promise you had made, to always be together, even when the world conspired to tear you apart.

But now, that promise lay shattered, scattered by the winds of fate. Kazuha was gone, his laughter silenced, his touch but a distant memory. And yet, you could not bring yourself to believe that he was truly lost forever.

For in the depths of your grief, there was a glimmer of hope, a belief that somehow, someway, Kazuha had found peace in the afterlife. You imagined him reunited with his dear friend, the two of them laughing and reminiscing beneath the eternal light of the stars.

And so, each night, you would come to this sacred place, your heart heavy with sorrow yet warm with the belief that Kazuha was watching over you, his love a guiding beacon in the darkness. And as you gazed up at the heavens above, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that wherever Kazuha was, he was not truly gone.

For as long as the stars continued to shine, so too would the memory of your love burn bright, illuminating the darkest corners of your soul and reminding you that even in death, your bond would never be broken.

traveler.

In Teyvat, where the winds whisper secrets and the stars tell tales of heroes, there once was a traveler from a distant world. This traveler had been searching for their sibling, and in the midst of their search had found someone else they cared for: you.

Your love knew no boundaries, spanning across the nations and beyond the reach of time itself. But fate, like a capricious deity, had other plans. Your lover, in their quest to protect the fragile balance of Teyvat, met their end in a valiant battle against a formidable foe. And as their spirit ascended, leaving behind a world engulfed in sorrow, you were left to wander Teyvat alone.

Every night, as the sky painted itself with the luminescence of countless stars, you would go up to the highest peak you could find. There, beneath the blanket of twinkling lights, you would sit, your heart heavy with longing, your eyes searching the heavens for a glimpse of your lover.

"They're among them," you would whisper to the ethereal void, your voice carrying both sorrow and hope. "My love, shining bright among the stars."

In those moments, you would feel a familiar warmth wrap around you, a fleeting sensation that whispered of your lover's enduring presence. You imagined them traversing the celestial expanse, a celestial wanderer among the constellations, watching over you with tender affection.

As time unfurled its tapestry, you found solace in your nightly ritual. The stars became your confidants, the silent witnesses to your whispered prayers and tearful confessions. And though your lover's physical form had departed, their essence lingered in the gentle caress of the night breeze and the shimmering radiance of the cosmos.

And as you gazed upon the heavens each night, your faith unshaken, you found solace in the belief that your lover had returned to their celestial home among the stars, finishing their search at last.

venti.

In Mondstadt, where the winds sing their eternal melodies and the stars dance in the night sky,

Venti, the mischievous bard of Mondstadt, was known for his jovial spirit and melodious songs that enchanted the hearts of all who listened. But amidst his carefree nature, there was one whose heart he held dearer than any other – his lover, a gentle soul whose love for Venti burned like the brightest star in the night sky.

Your love was as boundless as the vast expanse of the heavens, and together, you would spend countless nights beneath the vast expanse of the sky, nestled in each other's arms as you gazed up at the twinkling stars. Venti would weave tales of ancient myths and celestial wonders, his voice carrying across the night like a gentle breeze.

But fate, like the ever-changing winds, can be unpredictable.

One fateful day, Venti's song was silenced, his laughter stilled. News of his passing spread like wildfire, leaving behind a trail of sorrow that even the wind could not carry away. Your heart shattered into a million pieces, each shard a painful reminder of the void left by your beloved bard.

In the wake of Venti's passing, you found solace in the memories you had shared under the starlit sky. You would sit by the edge of the cliff overlooking Mondstadt, watching as the stars sparkled like fragments of Venti's soul scattered across the heavens.

In the quiet solitude of those nights, you would recall his words, spoken with a whimsical smile and a twinkle in his eyes. "If ever I should depart from this world," he had said, "fear not, for I shall join the stars themselves, and from there, I shall watch over you always."

And so, as you gazed up at the luminous tapestry above, you couldn't help but smile through your tears, for you believed with all your heart that Venti was among those celestial beings, guiding you with his eternal light.

Though the ache of loss never truly faded, you found comfort in the belief that Venti's spirit lived on in the stars, a constant reminder that your love was as infinite as the universe itself. And so, you continued to watch the stars every night, knowing that somewhere up there, Venti was watching over you, his laughter echoing in the celestial chorus that danced across the night sky.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

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sin-djarin · 7 months

Text

not in rivers, but in drops

Pairing: Joel Miller x gn!reader

Rating: M. MDNI. This blog and its contents are 18+.

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Joel comes home.

Warnings: Post outbreak, established relationship, mentions of canon typical violence and experiences, mentions of anxiety, no physical description of reader, no dialogue, no use of y/n.

A/N: I don't know what to tell you, apparently I wrote this in May and have no recollection of it! Enjoy!

The rain pelts against the panes of glass, washing the day’s dust that had settled away. The full moon that beams into your bedroom is the only light source. You hadn’t bothered to close the curtains. Instead, you chose to curl up into the fetal position under the blanket to stare at the droplets making their way down to the window. It’s grounding - a reminder that the earth was still spinning on its axis even with runners and clickers feasting on its crust. And its inhabitants.

You’re not sure how long you watch for, but it’s long enough that the moon has moved from one side of the pane to the other. A key turns in the lock and the heavy front door opens and slams shut. It’s soon followed by the twisting of the multiple locks on the inside. You hear the familiar noise of a backpack being shrugged off and placed by the stairs. A heavy jacket bound to be made heavier by the rain that battered it gets hung at the bottom of the banister and the bang of boots hitting the skirting come after. One. And then the other.

You know what stage of his journey he’s on as he makes his way up the carpeted stairs by the difference in the pitch of the creak each wooden step makes under his footing. All of them stop screeching when he reaches the top and heads for the bathroom.

The hinge of the bedroom door screams for oil as it opens and closes behind him. Still tucked up into yourself looking at the rain, you’ve come to know his routine so well that you don’t need to watch to know exactly what he’s doing and a smile creeps across your lips.

The click of the light in the bathroom is next, followed by the first splash of water from the faucet hitting the white ceramic sink. Joel never allows himself to cross the threshold of the bedroom covered in the day’s grit, refuses to taint a sacred space you've created.

A wall divides you both, but you know he’ll drench his cold, scarred hands in warm water and soap, scrubbing off the dirt, grease, and gunpowder. The patter of the running water stops and the tap squeaks as it’s turned to close. A moment passes before the light switch clicks again in the opposite direction.

Feet pad towards the bed you’re in and then stop. One by one, thick fingers push the plastic buttons of his shirt through the holes and the worn material drops to the floor. He grunts at the everlasting ache that plagues his shoulders as they squeeze together for him to pull his undershirt over his head. There had been some nights that if you listened close enough, you could hear the fibres of it snapping from the strength in his arms. But tonight he's gentle with it as he removes it from his torso.

He continues his undressing, tugging at the end of his leather belt, popping open the clasp and snaking it from around his hips, over the curling waistband of his dark jeans that will get swept down his weary legs next. The tarnished metal buckle clinks when it hits the ground, accompanying the rest of his clothes.

The edge of the mattress dips under his weight when he finally sits on the edge. A heavy sigh leaves his lungs and escapes through cold, puffed out cheeks. His fingernails scratch his scalp and the bones in his neck crack as he rotates his head to try and shirk off the day.

Eventually he falls backwards to lay beside you with a groan as individual vertebrae adjusts themselves to being horizontal for the first time since early morning.

The tension he’s carried around in his muscles begins to leave, though the movements he makes in an effort to get comfortable reverberate from the pillow underneath his head over to yours and into your ears. He never expects you to be awake. He never wants you to be awake. Some evenings you stay in whatever position you were lying in in an attempt to fool him that you don’t worry yourself until he comes home.

There are nights when he’s not here that you’re held captive by your mind and memories, when it’s hard to remember when it wasn’t so dark. Having been in constant fear of what might lie around the next corner for so long, they’re feelings that you can’t just abandon. Things you thought beautiful are now ripe with decay and desolation. The sun you once basked under is now covered by a shade. One wrong move and you could find yourself beneath the mire of fields that were green and golden.

When his breathing evens out, you unravel yourself from the sheets he lays on top of to look at him and his brown eyes meet yours. They’re tired but warm despite the chill outside. Neither of you were sure how you this began. Two lonely people in a lonely place. Two unexpecting people that now, always had to expect the unexpected. But he was the one that put a hand over yours in a time when you had no one else left to ask.

You prop yourself up on an elbow to get a better view because one day can change everything - one day had changed everything.

His curls are still damp from the rain he walked home in, and moonlight bounces off the silver that streaks through them. His eyelids are heavy and begging for rest. Droplets of water still cling to his neck from the washcloth he ran over it after washing his hands.

Your other hand reaches up to touch his stubbled cheek that was still warming up from the elements. A sigh leaves his nose and his brow relaxes under your touch. It continues to travel down over his neck, wiping away the last of the water, to brush over the small patches of hair then over the skin that bore the scars, scrapes and scratches of all of this.

He brings his hand up that had rested on his stomach up and it finds the nape of your neck to cradle. His thumb traces over your jawline. Its skin is rough and calloused but welcome. His eyes soften but you know he’s battling between being thrilled you’re awake and being furious you’re not on your second dream.

Regardless, he mirrors back the smile that's widening across your face from his return home. His hand on your neck coaxes you down to him for a kiss on his bitten lips while your palm remains on his chest absorbing the rhythm of his slowing heartbeat.

For all the nights you both endured, shivering and lost, alone and terrified, it’s a small miracle to be granted these tiny moments of salvation together. And they come not in rivers, but in drops.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #the last of us #tlou hbo #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller x gn reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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