#this one was written in !! thank you for the word suggestion!
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It’s finally finished. Thanks to all the awesome folks who voted and to the people on Discord who supplied feedback and ideas when I hit writers block (among them @hazyange1s, @choco-froggie, and @superconductivebean). Love you guys!!
RETURNING THE FAVOR - A Garreth Weasley x MC Oneshot
Word Count: 5,200
Content Warnings: Mortal danger, arachnophobia, and stupid decisions
He was on the ground. That was about all he knew.
He was laying on the ground, snapped like a broken twig across the forest floor.
Garreth rubbed his face blearily. His brain was swimming - everything was faded and hazy. Shadows twisted and whispered above him, smelling of death and rot and terror. If it weren’t for the pain in his leg and head, he wouldn’t have been sure if it was all real.
Something wet and earthy was pressed against his cheek…. Leaves? His pants were damp from the ground, and there were clumps of soil in his hair. Rain had soaked his robes into a muddy mess and chilled him to the bone, leaving his fingers numb from cold.
How had he gotten here? Hadn’t it been only a few hours ago he and Inger had left the castle? He’d only wanted to restock his supply of leeches- Perhaps find a dead bat, or even a bit of Hippogriff hair snagged on a bush.
Really, he’d wanted to find anything that could be useful. After all, this place was full of incredible things.
He faintly remembered falling.
That was it. He’d fallen.
Merlin, he hurt.
He was in the middle of wondering if he should try and sit up when something chittered, far too close and loud to just be his own frozen limbs scratching around in the muck.
His body froze, his own breath closing off his throat. As delirious as he was, he could hear the faint slipping of leaves and crunching grass. A long, wiry hair ran along his cheek.
He clamped his teeth down on his tongue, barely suppressing a whimper of fear. If that was what he thought it was- Merlin, he prayed it wasn’t what he thought it was.
Every muscle in his body was pulled to the point where he was shaking. Slowly the hair skipped across his nose, and he clenched his fists at his side, trying to remember to breathe. Where was his wand? If he’d lost his wand he was as good as dead.
His heart pounding in his ears, Garreth ever-so-slowly opened his eyes.
Eight massive inky orbs stared back at him.
He couldn’t help it. He shrieked.
The spider chattered, snapping its pincers. One massive hairy leg hooked onto his shoulder, turning him towards the monster as he began to scramble, arms and one leg and fallen leaves flying. His fist hit the beast in the side of the head, and he managed to kick one of its many legs out from under it.
It was no use. The brute wasted no time in scrambling on top and stepping all over him, prodding with its disgusting legs, its pincers clacking and glistening in the faint moonlight as it tried to tame its squirming prey.
He was going to die. He was going to die, and all before he’d ever finished his Fizzing Whizbeer. All before her had ever ridden a unicorn, or written that apology letter to Sharp for getting centipede juice on the ceiling, or told his friend he had a crush on her, or put a bucket of lake water atop Sallow’s door.
He could have sworn he heard someone scream. Inger?
And then the spider began to spin his legs together in a mess of horrible sticky silken strands. The last thing he saw was a burst of silvery light before he blacked out.
. . . Earlier That Day . . .
“The Forbidden Forest?” Inger demanded, grinning far too widely for such a suggestion. “You’re insane!”
“SHH,” Garreth hissed, clapping a hand over her mouth. He glanced around the near-empty common room in panic before slowly removing his hand. “We can’t have the whole bloody school knowing. It’s supposed to be a secret.”
She shoved his shoulder in retaliation, opened her second chocolate frog of the evening, and bit its head off. “I know it’s supposed to be a secret,” she said, chewing, “but it’s the Forbidden Forest! Your aunt would murder us. Remember the last time we ran off? We got detention for a week.”
“Two weeks,” he corrected, accepting one of the frog’s legs as he looked at the card from the box. His aunt had not been happy with them, to say the least, and neither had his parents. He still remembered the Howler he’d received the next morning.
Who cared about the Forbidden Forest, though? It was an opportunity too big to miss, especially with a rumored lesson coming up that taught Felix Felicis. Of course he’d brewed the famous potion before (without supervision, of course), but since that time he’d thought up a million ideas for what could be done with it if he were to do so again. He could make a fortune selling spiked candy to kids before their O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.S., he could get it to their Quidditch team, he could see if there was a way to alter it so it would only bring bad luck. He could, he could, he could. He’d be famous!
Of course, Inger knew about all of these crazy ideas, of which she’d shot down a fair number - the one about making Felix Felicis ink, for example.
This was why Garreth always told her his ideas. She knew which ones had the potential to work, and best of all, she could always help figure out a way to accomplish them.
Besides, she didn’t make half-bad company, either.
You know, in a great potions-brewing, adventure-seeking, fun-loving teammate sort of way. Certainly nothing that eluded to the fact he simply liked being around her and her inexhaustible energy to boot.
“Come on, Inger,” he wheedled, “It’ll be fun! It’s not like you haven’t been in there before.”
She jabbed a finger at him. “If you tell Weasley that I’ll hex your arse to Azkaban.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender, smirking. “That might actually be quite preferable, compared to-”
He cackled as she shoved him again, nearly forcing him off the overstuffed red couch.
“Alright ALRIGHT I get it,” he laughed. “But just think of all the fascinating things that are in there!”
“I don’t have to think,” she said haughtily, “I know.”
“Case closed! Ladies and gentlemen, we have the Savior of Hogwarts and an expert on the Forbidden Forest with us today.” He grinned, leaning back into the cushions. “Tell me, what potions were you able to brew with the oh-so valuable ingredients you found?”
He knew that line would get her. Inger was as big a sap for potions as he was- or at least, for the fun of creating something potentially hazardous. He suspected she was in it purely for the joy of throwing things into a cauldron with varying rates of success.
She snorted. “You’re an idiot,” she told him, yet her excitement showed no sign of dimming. “What time?”
“Tonight, after curfew. Hopefully, anyway, I’d we don’t get caught. I’ve got my broom-“
“Mine got taken by Kogowa because of the last Quidditch match.”
“Oh yes, I’d forgotten about that.” Truth was he hadn’t really forgotten. (Inger had fully snapped after a Ravenclaw student had nearly beheaded the Gryffindor Seeker with a Bludger at close range. As a result, she’d lost her broom for a week.) Better for her to think he had forgotten, though, right?
“Regardless, that’s all the more reason for it,” he said instead. “One broom won’t be as easy to spot as two.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What are you going to do, fly to my window and make me jump off?”
Actually, that was exactly what he’d been planning to do. He shrugged. “Something like that.”
It sounded ridiculous as soon as he said it. Inger, however, hardly batted an eyelash. “Brilliant! Just get super close to the window, and I’ll hop on.”
“What are you going to do if someone sees you?”
Springing up from the couch, ponytail swinging, Inger winked. “Savior of Hogwarts business.”
“And what about if they try to stop you?”
She rolled her eyes. “Garreth. I’m in a room with Nellie and Natty of all people. I’ll be fine.”
He grinned as he handed her the chocolate frog box. “Well, would you look who’s excited?” he teased. “Is it because I’ll be there?”
She scoffed. “Just make sure that big head of yours can fit through my window. And when Weasley catches us, it was only because of that next assignment and nothing else. Otherwise I would be busy being a perfect model student.”
He choked on a laugh. “Yeah, that’s a great description.”
Inger swatted and he ducked, snickering. Snatching the box back from her hand, he leapt atop the couch.
Despite being tall for a girl, Inger didn’t bother trying to jump to get it back, and wasted no time in tackling his legs instead. Garreth lost his balance immediately and fell over the arm of the couch, laughing.
Triumphant, Inger plucked the box from his hand, then extended her own to help him up.
“All hail the conquering champion,” she joked, pulling him to his feet.
“You jerk,” Garreth teased playfully.
She smirked right back at him. “Moron.” Spinning on her heel, she slung her book bag over her shoulder. “Does ten-o’clock sound good to you?”
He gave a mock salute. “Ten o’clock it is.”
. . .
It would decide to rain that night.
Inger couldn’t help feeling a little disgruntled as she unlatched the window and pushed it open into the heavy downpour. She hated being cold, and she knew (even with several layers of clothing) that there was little she could do to prevent being so.
True to his word, Garreth arrived almost exactly at 10:00. Or at least, at his own version of 10:00… a solid seven minutes past, to be exact.
Inger rolled her eyes as Garreth nudged his broom closer to the window sill. His grin was contagious, though it was helped along with rain soaking his usually curly ginger hair into an absolute mess of strands that refused to be swayed from sticking to his forehead. His robes were already sopping.
“ARE YOU READY?” Garreth yelled so as to be heard above the howling storm.
“YES!” Inger cried back. Stepping onto the windowsill, she braces herself with her hands on the slick stone walls.
Merlin, it was a long way down.
She dug the toes of her boots into a groove in the stone. “YOU’D BETTER NOT DROP ME!” she shouted at him.
Garreth kept his broom in place, bracing one leg on the wall. “I WON’T!” He held one hand out to her. “Grab my hand and my shoulder, then swing your right leg over!”
“Or just jump,” Nellie offered from behind. Natsai elbowed her in the ribs.
Inger snorted at her friends. “Make sure Mrs. Weasley doesn’t find out I’m gone, okay?”
Nellie flashed her a thumbs up.
Grabbing Garreth’s hand with her left and his shoulder with her right, Inger swung herself onto the broom, releasing herself from the window. Her satchel thudded against her hip.
Even with Garreth in front, she still loved being on a broom. There was a weightless feeling to it like nothing else.
It would have been even better had it not been dumping buckets of water from the sky. Even with the layers she was wearing, she was cold and damp within seconds. Her untamable flyaways clung in wet strands to the sides of her face and mouth. As for her ponytail, it was already a tangled mess from the wind.
“Are you holding on?” Garreth asked as he began to nudge the broom farther away from the tower and into the storm.
“Yup,” she said, wrapping her arms firmly around his waist. “GEEZ, you’re wet!”
Garreth burst out laughing, his hair spinning additional water into her face as he turned to look at her. “Say that again!”
Oh Merlin. It seemed to be a talent teenage boys had to always take things the worst way possible. Garreth was no different, especially with her. She was severely tempted to smack him in the back of the head.
Wiping a strand of hair out of her mouth, she leaned over his shoulder so she could see. “That wasn’t meant to be dirty, you dork!” she yelled at him.
“Sure it wasn’t!”
She scoffed. “Just don’t kill us!”
Garreth flashed another one of his signature grins. “Wouldn’t dream of it!”
Little could be said after that, as Garreth flew the broom away from the shelter of the castle and straight into the storm towards the Forbidden Forest. Inger could hardly see it at first - all it was was a streak of dark gray in the relentless rain and thunder.
The winds nearly sent the pair flying into the trees as they got closer, but to Inger’s relief, they landed relatively unscathed after only a few minutes - Waterlogged and freezing, but unscathed.
Inger nearly tripped as she stumbled off the broom into the relative shelter of the forest. Hands on her hips, she surveyed the dark shadows through the drizzling raindrops.
“This shouldn’t be too bad,” she said, checking to make sure her satchel was intact. “So long as we avoid the stinging nettle, and the Dugbogs, and the Centaurs, and the Aromantaculas.”
“The what?” Garreth asked, stepping up to her side as he rearranged his red and gold scarf. He’d leaned the broom up against a tree for safekeeping.
“‘What’ to which one?”
“The Aro… min… tecular- I don’t know. Whatever it is you said.”
She grinned. “Aromantaculas?”
“Yes. Those.”
She pulled her wand out of her satchel, lit it, and held it up so they could begin their trek into the forest. “Giant spiders.”
“You’re kidding.”
She turned to look at him, confused. He looked like he was going to be sick.
“No, not really.”
Garreth grabbed one of her shoulders, keeping her from walking any farther. His brilliant green eyes bored into hers, filled with undeniable concern. “There are giant spiders in there? How giant are we talking about?”
“Yup.” She tried to measure with her hand and ultimately settled it a little below her hip. “Uh… around here?”
He inhaled a slow, deep breath. “Godric’s gingersnaps,” he muttered.
Inger snorted a laugh. “Where’d that one come from?”
He gave her a pleased, mischievous smile. “I made it up.” He paused, worry creeping back onto his face. “Really though, are you sure we’ll be okay in there? You know, with those spiders?”
It dawned on her.
“Garreth,” she asked, folding her arms as she faced him, “are you scared of spiders?”
He looked at her as if she’d insulted him. “I’m not scared of them, I do like them!” He swallowed. “When they’re not running. Or twitching legs. Or, you know what, I just prefer them jarred so I can pull them out when the recipe calls.”
It was nearly funny, but she knew she had no room to laugh after their last adventure, when Garreth had discovered her own claustrophobia.
The memory still made her stomach feel like it was full of butterflies, something she would never in a million years tell him.
She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were afraid of frogs.”
“I never said I was afraid of frogs,” he told her. “I said I dislike them. Immensely.”
“Hate them.”
“What?”
“You said you hated them.”
He shrugged. “Alright, I hate them, then.”
“But you are scared of spiders?”
“Well, have you seen one up close? They’ve got these little hairs everywhere and these little beady eyes and little stick creepy crawly legs.” He shuddered. “They’re great for potions, don’t get me wrong, but otherwise…”
She playfully elbowed her friend in the side. “I’ll tell you what. You make sure I don’t get stuck in any tight spaces, and I’ll kill the spiders. Deal?”
She wished she could have gotten a painting of the relief on Garreth’s freckled face. It was nice to have someone who trusted her so completely. Usually it was “make sure you’re careful, Inger,” or “here’s some extra training for things you already know, Inger,” or “I’ll come along to make sure you’re safe, Inger.”
With Garreth it wasn’t like that. He knew and trusted her capabilities, and if she was getting ahead of herself, he would tell her.
At the very least it was nice to repay the favor. Garreth had kept her safe and helped to keep her mind off of their circumstances when they’d been stuck in that cellar until she’d fallen asleep, and now she had the chance to help scare off whatever spiders got to him.
“I thought I was the one planning this,” Garreth teased.
She laughed, turning around to face him as she began to walk backwards. “Who said I was planning anything?”
He chuckled. “Good question.” Then, reaching out, he spun her back around so she was facing forward. “Now do me a favor and don’t trip and die.”
Despite the amount of times Inger had been in the Forbidden Forest (most often to gather rarer ingredients for her and Garreth’s experiments), it was still a little spooky when first walking in.
For one thing, it was obvious almost immediately that one wasn’t alone.
The howls and screeches of animals and magical beasts alike echoed off the trees and through the lengthening shadows. Something skittered through the undergrowth. Even the trees creaked and whispered, as if alive.
However, despite how foreboding the sounds were, Inger knew that in reality they were preferable to silence. Silence in the Forbidden Forest was rarely a good thing.
Garreth summed it up fairly well.
“Creepy,” he declared after only a few moments of walking.
Inger chuckled. “You getting cold feet, Weasley?”
He grinned. “I just might - and then you’d have to save me. What an absolute tragedy.”
She rolled her eyes with a chuckle, holding an overhanging branch away from the trail with one hand so Garreth could pass in front of her. “I’m sure that would go down super well with your aunt.”
“She wouldn’t mind. It would just get you extra points with her, after all.”
“Oh, because that went so well last time she caught us together.”
Inger wasn’t prepared for Garreth’s expression. A mischievous raised eyebrow and a smirk to match - the sort of look that made Inger’s heart stutter. However, it was his following question that caught her most off-guard.
“What, are you saying you regret it?”
She tripped over a hollow in the path and shouted in alarm as Garreth sprang forward to help, catching her arm before she face planted into the ground.
“Woah, careful there,” he joked. “Wouldn’t want you to get scraped up.” He lifted his chin proudly. “That’s two me-saving-you’s.”
Inger managed a chuckle, trying to ignore the flush creeping up her neck, and straightened the satchel strap across her shoulder. “Totally not cocky about it at all, are you?” She swallowed. “Thank you. I-what kind of question is that?”
Did she regret it? Of course she didn’t. Looking back at it, it had been one of the most terrifying experiences of her life (which was saying something, considering what she’d been through the past year). She’d felt like she couldn’t breathe, felt like the world was closing in around her and she was going to be buried alive.
That said, the materials they’d brought back had lasted months. She and Garreth had brewed potions they’d only read about in books. They’d ruined several, too, but that wasn’t the point.
Had falling asleep in a cold dirt cellar - mere feet below a couple of angry drunk poachers, no less - against one of her best mates been one of the stupider things she’d done?
Probably.
Did it still make her want to hug and shove and goad him into tackling her every chance she got just to have an excuse to feel that sense of care and warmth again?
Maybe.
Garreth’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean ‘what kind of question is that?’ I thought it was a good one.”
She snorted, praying he didn’t notice it was his simple question that had made her trip.“Well, I-…”
She paused. How did she say this without coming off weird? Best to keep it simple.
“No, I don’t regret it.”
Was that a little bit of relief she saw? Merlin, he probably thought she was just another one of those girls that fawned over him behind his back.
“Those ingredients we found were completely worth it,” she offered as something of an explanation. “Remember the mermaid blood?”
Something dropped on his face - what, she couldn’t tell, but it was covered with a smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes.
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “The mermaid blood. Gave me a bloody good scare when those poachers showed up, though.”
She barked a laugh. “You were scared?”
He gave her a playful nudge in the side as they continued walking. “Hey, dying wasn’t exactly on my list of things to do that day.”
She crossed her arms, trying to look like she didn’t believe him. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty keen on it when you threw me down the ladder.”
Garreth rolled his eyes with a grin and shoved her away, nearly off the path. “You know, you could stand to say thank you.”
“I just did!”
“Did not.”
“Did too!”
“You most definitely didn’t.”
“Fine then.” She lifted her chin, smile still on her face. “Thank you, Garreth.”
He gave a flamboyant bow. “My pleasure.”
Inger wasn’t sure what it was. She knew he was just messing around, but seeing Garreth bow like that, dripping wet as he was, it made her stomach do stupid floppy things.
Most of the things he did made her stomach do stupid floppy things.
She held on to her bag strap- that seemed like a good place for her hands at the moment. “You dork,” she said with a chuckle.
He didn’t respond, only gave her that ridiculously charming smile.
The forest, while it had gotten progressively less wet and more damp as they’d ventured farther in due to leaf cover, it had also gotten progressively darker. The pair found a few mushrooms in the roots of a tree and a couple of feathers, but were unsuccessful in identifying them. Inger ended up sticking the ingredients in her satchel for safekeeping.
Garreth eventually pulled out his wand and lit it alongside Inger’s. However, it seemed that even Lumos Maxima wasn’t able to entirely dispel the shadows.
“So, when do we start seeing spiders?” Garreth asked after a couple of minutes of near-aimless wandering.
“Whenever they find us,” Inger whispered back, poking around a bush to see if she could find anything. “The louder we are, the more likely they are to hear us.”
“Oh how comforting,” he joked. He’d paused at the base of a particularly large tree at the edge of a steep slope, and was now staring up into the branches. “Is that a nest?”
Inger blinked from looking down the slope - she couldn’t see the bottom, the greenery was so thick.
“Where?”
He pointed.
She tipped her head. It did sort of look like a nest. It was difficult to see clearly, but it certainly had potential.
Garreth grinned. “What if there’s something in it?”
“Can you even climb up there?” She asked dubiously.
He pocketed his wand. “I’m hurt. Truly.” Taking hold of a groove in the bark and managing to get a toehold in another, he began to slowly boost himself up the trunk. “Get over here, will you? I can’t see.”
She laughed under her breath as she picked her way through the undergrowth to his side. Stretching her arm above her head, she held her wand as high as she could.
It took a few minutes of struggling and muttered curses, but Garreth finally made it to the first sturdy branch.
“Ha,” he said, grinning as he looked down at her. “See? I told you.”
“Can you see anything yet?”
He stretched his legs in front of him, as if a king surveying his new kingdom. “Really, I have some unmatched skills here, climbing a tree like this- a tree in the Forbidden Forest, no less. Leander is going to be so jealous.”
“Quit rubbing it in and get up there!”
“You know, I think I could get used to this.” He rested his chin on his fist, green eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re adorable, you look so small down there.”
Was that supposed to be flirty?
Who was she kidding, it was Garreth, he was always flirty.
“Weasley, so help me, if you don’t keep climbing I’m going to throw something at you.”
“Really you’re no bigger than a Mooncalf. All bark and no bite.”
Inger yanked off her boot and threw it.
She hadn’t been made a Chaser for the Quidditch team because she had poor aim. The boot hit its mark, square in his stomach.
Garreth grunted. “Hey!” he said with a laugh.
“Keep climbing,” Inger challenged, “or I’ll let the spiders eat you.”
He got to his feet immediately. “Okay, okay, I’m climbing.” He pulled himself up to the next branch. “See? Climbing.”
“Good job,” she said, trying to hide her smile. “Hurry.”
“Great, hurrying.”
The branches grew far closer together the higher Garreth climbed, and Inger found herself mildly impressed at how quickly he was able to make it up to the height of the suspected nest.
However, it quickly became apparent that the nest was a lot farther out than the two had originally thought. Even though Garreth reached out as far as he could, his fingers couldn’t get closer than a good five or six feet from it.
“Try Accio!” Inger shouted up at him.
“WHAT?”
“I SAID TRY ACCIO!”
She didn’t remember that they were technically supposed to stay quiet until after the fact.
Oh well. Nothing could be done about that now.
Up above, Garreth found his wand. Inger heard something that sounded like the charm, but little else happened. The nest had been woven into the twigs of the branch securely - there was no hope of moving it just by use of a spell.
Few other options were left but to move close enough to reach it.
“I’m going to try to get to it,” Garreth yelled down, and without further ado he began to scoot along the branch towards the nest.
Even from below, it was obvious from the beginning the branch wasn’t nearly sturdy enough for a boy like Garreth to sit at the end of. It began to tremble and bend as he moved farther from the trunk, leaves gliding down as they were shaken from the tree.
“Wait!” Inger called. “Don’t-“
Then, with a final shuddering tremor, the branch snapped, and Garreth plunged to the ground.
. . .
Someone was hitting his face.
“Garreth,” an anxious voice said. “Garreth! Damnit, Garreth, wake up!”
He took a deep breath as his brain slowly awakened. It was Inger. He could recognize her voice anywhere.
He groaned. Everything hurt- really hurt. Taking a deep breath, he forced his eyes to flutter open.
Much to his relief, the eyes looking back at him weren’t spider eyes. These were warm brown, flecked with the faintest bits of gold, and surrounded by freckles and strands of chestnut hair.
They were scared.
He blinked, struggling to raise his head as he pushed himself onto his elbows. Something silver pranced around the corners of his vision.
“Garreth!” Inger cried, and suddenly he found himself slammed back to the ground, enveloped in a fierce hug and Inger’s face pressed into the crook of his neck.
He grunted a soft laugh, bringing one hand up to hug her back as well as he could. “Hi there.”
She pulled back, grinning. “You’re alive. I thought you died, you idiot! Are you okay? You’d better be okay.”
“Uh… yeah. I think so. He blinked hazily, trying to see his body, and nearly threw up when he saw his legs still wrapped in spider silk. “I can’t move my legs.”
“Right.” She sat back on her knees and began to yank on the silk.
As she worked, Garreth took the opportunity to look around. He was pretty battered- his neck and back and left leg all hurt, as did his head. What was more, he looked about as bad as he felt. He was covered from head to toe in mud and dirt and grass.
Something wet dripped from the corner of his mouth. He licked his lips, tasting iron.
Blood.
As far as his surroundings went, he had somehow ended up a few feet into a clearing of sorts. Tree limbs and other plants made the view above completely impossible, but where he was on the ground wasn’t so bad. A path had been cleared through the muck to his left that led several feet up a steep slope, as if something had rolled down it.
To cap it off, a wisp of deepest silver smoke was wandering around him, standing guard with its head held high and ears pricked, ready to ward off any potential threats.
He didn’t have to ask to know it was Inger’s patronus. He’d been there when she’d first cast it, and now it was here again- a black mare, shimmering in the dark shadows.
“Inger,” he managed, turning his head so he could see her tearing away at the spider silk. “What happened?”
“You fell,” she said bluntly, grunting as she yanked off another strand. “I think the hill helped break your fall. You rolled right down.”
“Huh.” He shifted. “What did you do to the spider?”
“I scared it off before it killed you. They’re a bit sensitive to light.”
“So we’re safe?”
She snorted. “For a minute, at least, until it brings back its mates and realizes that a patronus can’t really hurt it.” Finishing with the silk, she dug through her satchel, pulled out a bottle of green liquid, and pulled out the cork. “Drink this.”
Garreth didn’t have to be told twice. He tipped back the Wiggenweld immediately and then let his head flop back. He could feel the effects of the potion almost instantly as it coursed through his body, healing cuts and scrapes and soothing pain and clearing the fog from his brain.
He was still terribly dirty, though.
Inger held out her hand, and Garreth allowed her to help him to his feet. After a moment of searching he found his wand. Summoning his go-to memory, he whispered the incantation.
“Expecto Patronum.”
A twist of silver light emerged from his wand and burst into a glittering shape, taking flight through the air. The Harrier swooped past them in a graceful ark before soaring above their heads, bathing the ground around them in ghostly light.
Inger gave a quiet laugh. “Dork.”
He slung an arm around her shoulders, grinning. “Show-off.”
A long, silent moment. There were so many things he wanted to say, and yet not quite enough courage to do so.
He swallowed.
“Thanks for saving my life.”
His friend chuckled softly, watching their patronuses glitter through the trees. “Well that was sappy. I’m just returning the favor.”
She paused.
“Now let’s get out of here before we actually die.”
#Been working on developing my own version of Garreth and I think he’s starting to come together#Sorry it’s so freaking long-#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy mc#gryffindor#harry potter#hogwarts oc#inger eve nilsdott#garreth weasley#garreth weasley x mc#hogwarts legacy oneshot
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Prompt 24 - Over
@jegulus-microfic May 24, Word count 537
Previous part First part
James was only slightly surprised when he spotted Regulus in the sea of Gryffindors after they’d been ordered back to their common rooms. He wrapped an arm around Regulus’s waist and drew him near, glad he was there.
The problem the Gryffindors were having was that the fat lady had still not returned to her portrait, probably due to the now sunbathing pigs. So, they had no way of getting into their common room.
The sound of sharp footsteps rapping against stones coming towards them put the marauders on high alert. As one, they crowded around Regulus, hiding him from view. James felt a swell of love for his friends and how all of them had immediately protected Regulus.
Remus stood at the front with James next to him, being the tallest they’d keep Regulus from view.
“Move aside. Miss McKinnon, if you want to get back into your dorm tonight, I suggest you let me through.” Professor McGonagall had arrived. She waved her wand once she’d neared the empty portrait. It swung open, revealing the passage behind it. James and the others began to move towards the entrance.
"You four. Come with me.” McGonagall barked at them. He felt the collective wince at her words. “This has you four written all over it.” None of them moved. James turned his head to look at Regulus, he tried to tell him with his eyes how sorry he was, when Mary’s arm shoved Peter and Sirius aside, and yanked Regulus away from them. Mary, Marlene and Lily ushered him inside the common room and the marauders followed Professor McGonagall to her office.
“Sit,” She ordered, and they all found a seat. “I know you did it. No other students would find this funny, nor,” She got a strange twinkle in her eye. “Are there any with the creativity and skills to pull this off.” She steepled her fingers in front of her mouth. James realised she was trying not to smile at them. He also noticed that none of them had denied their involvement. “We seem to be struggling to remove your little pets from the canvas’s. It’s not a general sticking charm, so what have you done to keep them there?” They kept silent. She sighed. “If you tell me how to remove the pigs, I will lessen your punishment.” The marauders didn’t utter a word. “Right then.” Her stare turned icy and all four of them cowered in their seats. “Your time, as you know it at Hogwarts is over. You will have detention every night until the end of the year. Hogsmeade is a thing of the past for you four and quidditch—” James and Sirius jumped to their feet.
“Professor, you can't.”
“Professor please.” They begged. Professor McGonagall raised her hand to silence them. “Quidditch. You are on probation where that is concerned. If I get wind of anything else you may be involved in this year, you will lose that privilege also.” She grabbed a quill and parchment from her desk drawer. “You are to return to Gryffindor common room and wait for further instructions.” Together they stood and left.
“Thank you Professor,” They said in unison before they walked through the door.
Next part
#may 24#jegulus#jegulus microfic#jegulus fic#jegulus fanfiction#james potter#regulus black#dead gay wizards#james fleamont potter#regulus arcturus black#sirius black#remus lupin#peter pettigrew#marlene mckinnon#mary macdonald#lily evans#professor mcgonagall#james x regulus#regulus x james#james potter x regulus black#james and regulus#regulus and james#the marauders’ era#marauders era#marauders#the maruaders#the marauders#the marauders era#marauders prank#over
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For the fic game: limbo
Crowley has never been sure - he is the embodiment of uncertainty; he is an angel who fell and will never know why, abandoned by his creator in a limbo full of cursed knowledge he can't help but seek out even though he can never comprehend it. And he is sure he needs Aziraphale, and he doesn't know what to do with that knowledge, and he wants to be fucked about it.
send me a word; if it's in my wip, i'll share the snippet it's in - if not, i'll try and write it in
#this one was written in !! thank you for the word suggestion!#sorryisuckbutatleastiknow#asks#wip game
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Santa baby are you really there?!
*hears a voice in my backyard*
FUCK SKIN WALKER
- you make Yan skinwalker i’ll do anything to get a skin walker to love me … yes I am 100% mentally stable
I'm not sure if you had something horror-esque in mind, because my immediate idea was Reader accidentally getting cursed and continuing her life completely unaware with a ""dog"" everyone is freaked out by, but she finds it cute. So more like dark comedy vibes. You be the judge. :D
Disclaimer: I have changed the name to Shapeshifter as to not delve into potentially offensive takes on native folklore. Thank you for informing my European ass.
Yandere!Monster x Reader [Shapeshifter]
On your last hiking trip, you've stumbled upon a helpless, lost dog. Or rather, it stalked you down to your cabin and spent the night in front of your window. You didn't have the heart to abandon the poor soul and so you brought it home with you. Strange things have been happening ever since and no one knows how to tell you that the monstrous coyote-like creature might be to blame. You're oblivious to everything.
Content: female reader, dark comedy, monster romance, reader is cursed and proud
It wasn't your intention to return home with a new pet. Some might say it was written in the stars, this fateful encounter of yours. You had finished packing your supplies for a day-long hike, vehemently refusing to join your group of friends that would be guided around by a native. They’d warned you many areas of the mountainous forest were supposedly cursed or haunted, so you just scribbled the limits on your makeshift map and promised to stay on the main trails. After all, this was your chance to commune with nature. As the sun begun to set, you wondered if going by yourself was indeed a smart idea, given your lack of spatial awareness and difficulty to navigate maps. You flipped the piece of paper several times, deep in contemplation. Could it be that you’ve reached the forbidden lands? You quickly surveyed the area: based on the stuffed rag dolls hanging from old branches, and the animal skulls arranged in patterns among patches of burnt grass, it was very much a possibility. Perhaps the improvised slab that said “Stay away” in dripping crimson letters should’ve been enough of a warning, but you assumed they’d just been creative with trail markers.
You didn’t have the time to panic. Just as you were furrowing your eyebrows in a final attempt to decipher the map (at the time upside-down), your ears picked up a faint shuffle of leaves. Further away stood a dog, its glossy eyes fixated on your form. A lost puppy? It seemed to be on the larger side, but then again some breeds grow rather fast. You lowered yourself and patted your knees, whispering diminutives in an effort to call the animal over. It remained in place, staring quietly. Alright, then. You focused on finding your way back instead. Every now and then you'd turn back and see the dog, motionlessly eyeing you at a constant distance. Oh, dear. Was it lost? Frightening affair.
Back at the cabin you told the others about your discovery, with a hint of worry in your voice. You hoped the little pup had found proper shelter. You'd expected a similar reaction coming from your friends, but one of them suggested: "What if it was some shapeshifting monster? There's many legends and stories from the area." Everyone laughed and you joined hesitantly, mildly annoyed by the lack of empathy. That night you barely slept, twisting and turning under the heavy feeling of being watched. You woke up tired and nervous, dragging your feet towards the window for some fresh air. That's when you saw the same forest creature, fully awake and tall in its glory, positioned before your room. This was no coincidence. You had been plagued by the guilt of abandoning a vulnerable quadruped and you weren't about to continue as a passive observer. You strode out without a word and lifted the large dog with a huff, carrying it back in to figure out the transport logistics.
Thus started the unexpected companionship. To you, it's a lovely tale of two lost souls finding one another. Most people seem to disagree. Can you blame them? The rescued puppy you often speak of is, in the eyes of everyone else, a monstrous beast by all definitions. It resembles a coyote more than a dog, but even this description is too gentle. The fur is always raised threateningly and the protruding clusters of fangs remind one of the anatomical anomalies displayed in museums. The eyes, oh, the worst of all perhaps, bottomless depths that pull you in until you run out of air. The creature stares with the all-knowing gaze of a human. "Don't be rude", you snap at whoever dares to point these details out. "It must be a mixed breed or something."
Their persistence is truly ridiculous. You've even had guests run out in panic, claiming the dog stood on its back legs and whispered in a language unknown. Or that its shadow would morph into a grotesque man with claws and crooked antlers. Or that they've found it hunched over your sleeping form, its spine twisted outwards with jagged peaks breaking through the wild fur. Rubbish, all of it.
Strange things have been happening, no doubt, but your adopted fur-child has no blame to carry. You've been trying to distract yourself, going on dates and occasionally bringing potential suitors over. They all vanish overnight, nonchalantly leaving an empty, ruffled bed for you to wake up to. "Am I just unlucky?" You sigh, running your fingers through the coarse fur of your dog. It lowers itself under your touch, visibly enjoying the affection. For a split second, it glances out the window. By the time you come out of your depressed slump, the birds should've finished feeding on the remains. He made sure to tear and grind everything fine enough to not leave any marks behind.
That's how curses work, after all. He didn't expect, however, that you'd be utterly unaware of it. He has to give you the credit, not many people become stalked by an ancient curse and continue their life in blissful ignorance. Even more, for them to just casually pick up the haunting entity and bring it inside their home willingly...You're, uh, certainly a special one. Hence the change of plans. He was supposed to torment you into an early grave, but he's grown rather attached to your bizarre antics. And you do provide some damn good chin scratches. He's therefore satisfied with causing anguish and destruction to anything and anyone in your immediate vicinity instead. Since you've been complaining about the resulting isolation...
You wake up with a gasp, wiping your drenched forehead and checking the sheets. The dog is curled next to you, although its head is now tilted in your direction. "O-oh. It might be the loneliness talking...but I had the strangest dream." How troubling and embarrassing. Your beloved pet had turned into a deformed, monstrous man instead, pinning you down and hungrily grazing your skin with his sharp teeth. Your fearful protests eventually turned into shameless moans, your frail body at the mercy of the mysterious beast. It unfolded so vividly that your core feels sore. You stretch a sheepish hand towards your pet and abruptly stop halfway, noticing the marks diffused into your wrist, like violet smudges of watercolor. What the hell did you do last night?
The dog buries its head under the sheets and nuzzles its snout into your soft flesh. Heh. How many more disappearing guests will be needed for you to figure out your situation? He does find your obliviousness terribly amusing, as well as your willingness to clutch onto him despite his unsightly appearance. He was feeling particularly cheeky and thought of giving you a little scare, only to be once again taken aback by your neediness. He has to wonder who exactly is trapped in this situation, because your reactions to everything he does are frighteningly tempting. Maybe tonight he'll finally let you know, just as you're about to come undone beneath his heaving body. Something like, hmmm. "By the way, love, this isn't a dream." He could even add a little "woof" to tease you more.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x darling#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere monster#yandere monster x reader#horror#monster x reader#monster romance#yandere oc#monster smut#monster boyfriend#terato#teratophillia#monster fucker
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Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺
Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo
Something Imagined / Something Real
Word Count: 3.9K
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav
Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst
Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA
Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.
The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him.
“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.”
Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”
“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire.
“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way.
But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought.
“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously.
Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering.
“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought.
“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly.
Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.
“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence.
“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.”
“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”
Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.
After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it.
It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt.
Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.
“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him.
The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”
“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?”
“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder.
Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.
“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished.
“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.”
Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror.
As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed.
Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.
Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering.
He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed.
That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot.
Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes.
The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination.
Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master.
But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?
She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.
It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.
So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp.
“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”
Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain.
“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.
“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion.
Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling.
“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.
Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.
But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.
Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.
“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face.
“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”
Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand.
The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water.
Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand.
Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?
“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty.
“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”
“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off.
“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze.
“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”
Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.
But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try.
***
He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad.
Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her.
“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question.
The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well.
“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly.
Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her.
“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.
“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees.
Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far.
“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.
“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.
“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed.
Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind.
Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years.
Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.
“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”
Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.
“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”
She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare.
“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.
“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”
“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”
Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.
“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted.
Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight.
“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”
She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady.
“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.”
Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on.
“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”
She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession.
But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment.
“Why?” he asked quietly.
She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face.
“Why what?”
“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest.
Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”
Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly.
“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.”
Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much.
“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy.
“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her.
She held his gaze, speechless.
“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”
Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation.
“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone.
“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.
Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him.
“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”
“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.
“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.
“Could I hug you?” she whispered.
The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded.
Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.
Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.
She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer.
“This… this is nice,” he whispered.
He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response.
It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next.
#astarion#dancingbirdiewrites#bg3 astarion#astarion ancunin#baldurs gate astarion#baldur’s gate astarion#astarion x f!reader#astarion bg3#bg3 astarion fic#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion x mc#baldurs gate 3#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 fic
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Dear Neil Gaiman,
You may recall writing an introduction to an anthology of Edgar Allan Poe's short stories some years ago. In that introduction you suggest that Poe's writing is best enjoyed when it is read aloud. After reading some of his stories and poems aloud to myself, I realized that you had an excellent point.
During the month of October, I have made a habit of spending some extra time reading stories and poems by my favorite Gothic author. Instead of reading to myself or asking the nearest person to read to me;* do you have any suggestions for good audio versions of his written works?
Thank you in advance if you are able to answer this question!
*This request has never produced a positive result. In my experience after you reach "a certain age," people no longer wish to read to you.
You need a better group of friends. Ones that like reading aloud to you, anyway.
But until you find them I recommend this:
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 10: Treat Me Gently
Summary: You and Price take your relationship to the next level. It might be the best decision you've ever made.
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, p in v sex, fingering, oral, first time sex, unprotected(ish) sex, reader has an implant, creampie, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, the author is a bit rusty writing smut.
A/N: It's finally here. It's finally arrived, the moment we've all been waiting for! Uh, yeah, it's mostly badly written smut with just a little plot thrown in there. So...I hope you enjoy!
MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->
Your attention is pulled from your book as the couch sinks on either side of you, two bodies joining you. You glance up from your book as an arm drapes itself across the back of the couch behind you. Your eyes flicker between Gaz and Johnny, mischievous grins on their faces.
“We heard you have a date this weekend.” Gaz says, leaning in closer.
Your face warms at his words. “Well, I don’t know if I’d call it a date...”
“What are you wearing?” Gaz asks.
“Do ye have anythin’ to wear?” Johnny asks.
Their questions give you pause. The most formal thing you have are jeans and, though you doubt Price would care if you showed up in sweatpants, you would like to have something nice to wear.
“Come on.” Gaz says, slapping your thigh before standing. “We’re going shopping.”
“What?” You glance between him and Johnny as they stand over you.
“Already got permission from Price.” Johnny says. “So come on.” He grabs your hands, lifting you to your feet easily. “Let’s get goin’, kitten.”
Your cheeks warm at the pet name, Johnny’s hand settling on your lower back to steer you from the rec room. You don’t have much of a choice but to follow, grabbing a couple things from your room before you leave the barracks with them to a car parked outside. It’s different from the car you and Price had taken to town last weekend. Of course, they probably all have their own vehicles, or at least a few at their disposal.
“I’m driving.” Gaz says, plucking the keys from Johnny’s hand.
“Aww, ye never let me drive!” Johnny pouts.
“Yeah, because with our luck you’ll traumatize her so badly, she’ll never want to leave again.” Gaz says, opening the driver’s side door.
You can’t help but giggle at the dejected look on Johnny’s face as you get into the back, Johnny muttering the entire way to the passenger side.
“I’m no’ that bad of a driver.” Johnny says, buckling his seatbelt.
“Yeah, but both you and Simon seem to be in agreement that the speed limit is a suggestion, not a law.” Gaz says as he turns on the car. “I’d like to make it there and back in one piece, thank you. Besides, Price would have both our heads if anything happened to our girl on our watch.”
Your cheeks warm as you meet Gaz's gaze through the rear view mirror. Your heart flutters at the look in his eyes, the dedication and protectiveness shining in them.
“I wouldnae let anything happen to ye.” Johnny says, reaching back to squeeze your knee for a moment.
You stare out the window of the car as Gaz drives towards town, half listening to the conversation in the front seat. You're beginning to recognize landmarks, buildings, areas between the base and town despite it only being your second trip. They'd be proud of you, you think. At least if something happened, you'd be able to give a landmark.
The farmlands fade into the city and soon Gaz is parking on the street in front of a shop. You take Gaz's hand as he helps you out of the car, lacing your fingers together. Soap holds the door to the shop open, letting you and Gaz walk through first.
It's a nice boutique filled with all sorts of formal wear. You wonder how they even knew about this place, or if they had done some research beforehand. Both make you feel honored that they would even go to those lengths just for you.
They are going to be your pack soon.
Packs do this sort of thing for each other. They take care of each other, spoil each other, make each other happy. It’s hard to be a good pack if one member is unhappy.
“Good afternoon.” One of the workers approaches you. “My name is Emily. Is there something I can help you find today?”
“Our omega has a date with our alpha this weekend.” Gaz says, smiling down at you. “She needs something to wear.”
The worker, Emily, smiles at you. “How exciting! Did you have anything in mind? Style, color, anything like that?”
“Probably nothing too fancy,” You say, eyeing the racks. “And, probably a dress.”
“Alright, we've got lots of options for that. Let's take a look and you can try some on.” Emily says.
Gaz keeps hold of your hand as you follow Emily through the racks, looking at some of the options. Johnny goes off on his own, perusing the racks himself.
“Is there a certain color you have in mind?” Emily asks you.
You hum in contemplation, looking at the many racks. You're not sure what color Price would like, or if he even has a favorite.
“His favorite color is blue, like a dark navy blue.” Johnny answers for you. “Though, I think he'd like you in any color.”
You can't help the way your cheeks warm a bit at Johnny's words. You realize you don't even know their favorite colors. There's still so much about them that's a mystery to you.
“What's your favorite color?” You ask, looking up at Gaz.
“I don't think I have just one.” He says, running his hand over a sequin covered dress on the rack in front of you “I like warm colors. Reds, oranges, purples.”
“Like a sunset.” You say, looking at a tag on one of the dresses, nearly choking at the price.
Gaz gently removes the tag from your hand, giving you a look as you meet his gaze. “Don't even worry about it, love.” He says quietly, leaning down to kiss your cheek.
“My favorite color is green.” Johnny says, appearing next to you suddenly.
“Let me guess, Ghost’s is black.” You say.
Johnny's mouth twitches. “Now how'd you come to guess that?”
You shrug, unable to hide your grin. “Call it intuition.”
Emily takes you to the changing rooms, the boys taking seats outside to wait for you to try on the dresses you've chosen so far. You pick a sleeveless, blue, knee-length dress first with a ruched skirt. You already don't like it, but you know the guys will want to see it regardless.
You feel nervous, strangely exposed as you step out of the dressing room and make your way to where the guys are sitting. They both straighten up as you approach, Johnny’s eyes immediately on your legs. Gaz let's out a low whistle as his eyes scan your figure, ending on your legs as well.
“What?” You ask concerned as you stare down at your own legs thinking the worst, like how you might have missed a spot shaving or something.
“Nothin’ love,” Gaz says, unable to lift his gaze from your legs. “Just never seen you in anything but long pants before.”
Your cheeks warm at his words. It's true, the climate had yet to allow for anything but long pants. Even to sleep, you found yourself too cold without long sleep pants.
“Christ, you've got gorgeous legs, kitten.” Soap says, letting his eyes trail your form. “Keepin’ those hidden from us?”
Your face feels like it's on fire as they stare at you, and quickly turn to face the large mirror across from them in an attempt to steady the butterflies in your stomach.
“What do you think?” Emily asks, stepping up next to you.
“It's a little too...churchy for a date.” You say smoothing your hands over the skirt. “Definitely need something fancier than this.”
You try on a few of the others, but none of them are right. Too short, too long, too formal, not formal enough. Johnny brings you more to try, a couple sticking out, but you're not sold on any of them.
The last dress you have yet to try on catches your eye as you pull it off the hook. It's a deep blue color, almost black. It's long sleeved and covers your front entirely, but the back is open. It's short, the skirt hem long enough to cover your ass, but you wouldn't dare bend over. It hugs your figure, accentuating the curves and lines of your body.
Your cheeks are warm as you step out of the changing room, both Gaz and Johnny going slack-jawed as they stare at you. Even Emily looks in awe as you stand in front of them.
“I think you've found the one, love.” Gaz says, his eyes trailing your form. “Give us a spin.”
You do a slow turn, not missing the way their eyes widen in the mirror when they see the back, Johnny still frozen as you turn back to face them.
“How do you feel?” Emily asks, stepping up to you.
“Good.” You say, your face still warm. “Really good.”
“Yeah,” She says, looking you over. “I think you've hit the mark with this one. Let me grab shoes and we'll put the whole look together.”
You turn to face the mirror as she steps away, your eyes meeting Gaz's as he steps up to you.
“You look fantastic, love.” He says, leaning in close over your shoulder, his breath fanning your ear. Goosebumps form on your skin as his fingers slowly trail up the line of your spine. “Price is going to want to devour you instantly as soon as he sees you in this one.”
You shiver at his words, biting your lip as his fingers splay out across your upper back. “You think so?”
There's a mischievous glint in his eyes as he holds your gaze through the mirror. “He won't be able to keep his hands off you. Gonna drive him insane, making him sit through dinner looking like a delicious dessert.”
You fear you might start smoking from how warm you feel, glad for Emily's reappearance. You try on the shoes she brings, opting for the shorter heels for the sake of your own dignity.
Johnny distracts you as Gaz pays for the items, spending far too much on you but neither will let you complain. It's what they're supposed to do.
They are your pack after all.
“What about lingerie?” Johnny asks, turning to look at you as you sit in the car.
Your face burns at his question. You hadn't thought about that bit.
“Gotta dress up the whole fit.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.
“Lay off her, perv.” Gaz says, smacking Johnny's chest. “He's right though, gotta make sure the whole outfit matches.”
You feel like you might implode in the backseat. You might not make it to Saturday at this rate.
You wake early on Saturday. You don't have to be up early. There's nothing going on until tonight, no need for you to rise earlier than the sun. Yet, you can't help the anticipation burning in your stomach, the nervous fluttering in your chest. Tonight you're going to sleep with Price for the first time. Tonight you'll allow him closer than you've ever allowed anyone.
You have an outfit, you have fancy underwear, even new shoes. You're not sure how you want to wear your hair. You're not sure on makeup either, though Price has seen you plenty without it and has yet to offer any complaints.
You grab your phone, laying in bed and scrolling hair tutorials until the sun comes up and you start hearing movement in the hallway. You don’t bother changing, pulling on shoes before stepping out. You are hungry, even after spending half the day in town and eating dinner out with Gaz and Johnny yesterday. You slip out the door, coming face to face with Ghost. You tilt your head back, staring up at him.
“Didn’t expect to see you.” He grumbles. “Figured you’d be busy getting ready.”
“I’ve got like ten hours until I have to be ready.” You say, blinking up at him. “It doesn’t take that long.”
He lets out a huff, rolling his eyes. “Come on.”
You follow him out of the barracks, but you find yourself not having to speed walk quite as fast to keep up with him today.
“Are you upset?” You ask, kicking up your pace a bit so you can walk side by side with him.
“About what?” He asks.
“Price and I.” You say.
“Why would I be?” He sounds genuinely baffled that you’re asking him.
You shrug. “You’re an alpha in the pack too, and I didn’t really ask anyone but Price.”
“Price is your alpha.” He says, as if it’s the most straightforward thing in the world. He’s not wrong, Price is the only one that really matters when it comes to you, since he’s the pack alpha, and he’ll be the one claiming you.
“Would you ever want to be?” You ask, looking up at him.
He meets your gaze as he opens the door to the mess, not answering as you slip into the hall. He stands closer to you than he normally does as you get in line for food, tailing you like a shadow as you find Johnny among the drowsy and hungover soldiers in the mess.
You take a seat across from him, Ghost taking his spot next to Johnny. You can feel the nerves beginning to take hold as you eat, thinking about your date tonight. It’s not like you really have to impress Price much, though you suppose you could make him dislike you rather easily. You’d rather avoid that situation, as there’s no getting out of mating and being claimed by him. You’re going to be part of his pack whether he likes you or not.
What if he finds you boring? You’re not even sure what you could talk about. It’s not like you do much, and he already knows most everything he can about you. The only thing you have to talk about are things you’d rather not discuss during your first date. You’d prefer not to discuss them at all.
“You’ll be fine.” Johnny says as you walk back to the barracks. “Just get ‘im talking, and ye won’t need tae worry about gettin’ a word in yourself.”
Johnny’s words do make you giggle. You’re sure Price has so much more to talk about than you do. You barely know anything about him in general.
It’s ironic that you’re more nervous about dinner than you are about the fact Price is going to take your virginity tonight.
You did ask for this. It’ll be good, getting to know him before your heat starts. The idea of going through your heat with a virtual stranger is terrifying to you, and Price had so willingly offered to do this so that doesn’t happen, so you feel more comfortable with being mated and claimed by someone you at least somewhat know. This is your chance to get to know your pack alpha, your alpha before you’re forced to. This is your chance to make your own decision, to have some control over a life that’s been dictated for you this far.
You spend the morning in a nervous panic, looking up tips online, tutorials, possible questions he might ask and thinking up answers that will make you sound interesting at least. Answers that won’t just be parroting things that he already knows. Gaz brings you lunch, letting you continue to prepare for your date, knowing the chances of you having a breakdown if you’re forced around people are high right now.
You give yourself ample time to get ready, showering and moisturizing, making sure you smell clean and look nice. You do your hair, taking your time to make yourself look decent. You opt for minimal make up, wanting to make yourself seem like you at least put a little effort into your looks.
You're strapping on your shoes when the knock comes at the door. Six o'clock sharp, just as you expected. You take a deep breath, adjusting your dress before you open the door.
John is standing on the other side, dressed in a button up shirt and slacks. You look him over, the fresh scent of cologne reaching your nose. His eyes rake your form, his scent slipping through the cologne as his gaze darkens a bit. Gaz was right. He does look like he wants to devour you.
“You clean up nicely.” You say, looking him over again. His shirt hugs his muscles nicely, his pants obviously tailored to fit him. You haven't seen him in anything but fatigues and civilian clothes so far.
“Was going to say the same to you.” He says, lips pulling up into a smile. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
Your cheeks warm at the compliment. “Thank you.”
“Hungry?” He asks, offering you an arm.
“Always.” You say, taking his arm, letting him lead you towards the rec room.
The lights inside are dimmed, the table usually reserved for games set up with a tablecloth and candles, along with two plates covered with cloches, and a bottle of wine. You're not sure when he managed to procure the wine, or maybe he had it saved and decided this was as good a time as any.
“Wow.” You say, impressed by the effort he obviously put into everything.
“I bribed the boys out of here for a few hours.” He says, leading you to the table. “Wasn't easy.”
“I bet.” You say, sitting down in one of the chairs, letting him push it in for you.
He pours you both glasses of wine before taking the cloches off the plates. You blink in surprise at the meal on the plate. Spaghetti, a salad, and bread. It's so simple, yet it takes you right back to weeknight dinners at home.
“You made this?” You ask as he takes the seat across from you.
He nods. “I've amassed many skills over the years. I'm no five star chef, but I can throw things together in a pinch.”
“Well it looks good.” You say, picking up your fork.
It tastes good too. It's so simple, yet it's one of the best things you've eaten in the last month. You miss a lot of things about America, and the food is starting to be one of those.
You and John make small talk as you eat, the wine warming your body and easing your nerves.
“How long has it been,” You ask him as you clear your plate. “Since you were with an omega last?”
“Two years.” He says, taking a sip of wine.
Your eyes widen in surprise. You know they've been with omegas in the past, taking advantage of barrack bunnies and the swaths of willing omegas you know populate near military bases. You just hadn't thought it would be that far back in the past.
“Right around the time the task force was created.” He continues. “We were too busy bonding and working on the task force, by the time we had a moment long enough for anything like that, we didn't need them anymore.”
“That must have been torture.” You say, staring at him wide eyed.
“We're trained for that sort of thing.” He says with a smile. “How to fight off those urges, those needs. When you're in the field, something like that could get you killed. You don't pass selection into the SAS until you can show mastery over those skills.”
“Damn.” You say, taking a sip of your wine. “Still, it couldn't have been easy.”
“It can be hard, once you've been with an omega, to go without. But that's just part of the job.”
“Well, I suppose that's partly why I'm here.” You say, huffing out a laugh.
“Perhaps.” He says. “I'm certain we're not getting the full story.”
The double meaning isn't lost on you. There's a lot they don't know about you, things that are safer buried deep where they can't hurt anyone. Things you'd like to keep buried for the rest of time.
“It’s nothing...bad is it?” You ask, searching his gaze.
“I’d like to think not,” He says.
But...
You don’t need to hear him say it. You know it’s there, lingering at the end of that statement. You wonder how many times he’s been in these situations, forced to place blind trust in someone and hope they have the best intentions in mind. You’re all too familiar with those sorts of situations. Putting blind trust in strangers was your life purpose as soon as you presented as an omega.
“We’re not going to let anything happen to you.” He says, staring at you with such conviction you can’t help but believe him. “You’re part of our pack, which makes you part of this team, even if bureaucracy says otherwise. We take care of each other, and that includes you. You’re our omega, regardless of whatever the endgame is for this initiative.”
You feel almost breathless at his words, at his declaration of loyalty to you. You know how much loyalty means to someone like him, the kind of promise words like that uphold. They’d give their lives to defend you. You’d fight to defend them too, if it came down to it. Not that you could do much, but you’d try.
“You’re my omega.” John says, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. “I take care of what's mine.”
You nod, trying to fight the tears welling in your eyes. “I know. You've...you've been a better alpha than I could have ever hoped for. Despite everything you've been kind and caring and understanding. I know some things we learned at the institute weren’t right, but...I was expecting a lot worse.”
His thumb draws circles on the back of your hand, his fingers gently squeezing yours. “I'm glad I could prove that wrong. I know this situation is weird and less than ideal, but I fear I'll have to tell Kate she was right. She did pick a good omega.”
You smile, preening a bit under his praise. “That’s all I can try to be.”
“You can be so much more than that.” He says, lifting your hand to his lips. His beard tickles your skin as he presses a line of kisses across the back of your hand before turning it, kissing across your palm to your wrist. He presses his nose against the skin there, inhaling deeply. “You’re sure, about tonight?”
Your fingers brush his cheek as he holds your hand against his face. Your heart is thudding your throat at the proximity, those nervous flutters starting in your stomach again. He’s giving you an out, a chance to take back what you had asked for. You know he wouldn’t blame you. He was more than willing to wait for your heat to start, for when you had no choice, when it would mean less because you would be desperate and needy for him.
You don’t want that, though. You want him to want you before his instincts tell him he does. You want to know he’s not just fulfilling a duty, scratching an itch that’s been tickling him for two years now. You want him to want you as you are now. You want him to choose you.
“Yes.” You say, pressing your palm flat against his cheek. “Just...be gentle with me?”
“Of course.” He says, kissing your palm again. “You change your mind at any time, you tell me, yeah?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
“Good.” He takes your hand in his again, standing from his seat.
Nerves mix with excitement as he pulls you to your feet with him, stepping up close to you. His hand lifts, tilting your chin up. Your stomach flutters as you meet his gaze, his eyes warm and soft as he stares at you. Affection shines in them as his thumb brushes your lip before he’s leaning down, pressing his lips to yours.
The kiss is short and sweet, like the ones you’ve shared with him before. Yet, at the same time it feels different. There’s warmth beginning to blossom under your skin, the kiss not just a simple sign of affection this time. It’s the overture, the appetizer, just a teasing taste of what’s to come.
You hold his hand as he leads you down the hallway, heels clacking on the tile floor. It makes your face warm, the thought that they all know what it means, they can hear it and they know what’s about to happen. They know where you’re going, what you’re about to do.
John opens his door, motioning for you to enter. You haven’t been in any of their rooms yet, you haven’t invaded their own sacred spaces. Your steps are slow and cautious as you breach that barrier, John’s scent washing over you as you step into his room.
It’s neat and tidy, just as you expected it would be. It’s not laid out all that differently from your own, though perhaps a bit more organized and clinical than yours. There’s a shelf next to his nightstand, stuffed with books and what you can assume are souvenirs from places he’s been. There’s stacks of papers on the desk, his clothes and shoes tucked away neatly in their places. His bed is slightly bigger than yours, and you wonder if that’s a perk of his status, or if he pulled some strings once he learned he was getting an omega.
The door clicking shut draws your attention back to John, the click of the handle a finality. You’re doing this. There’s no going back now.
Not that you want to.
John steps up to you, staring down at you. You stare up into his eyes as his hand comes to rest on your waist, his touch hot through the thin fabric of your dress. “You’re sure you want to do this?” He asks, voice rumbling in his chest.
You nod, your hands slowly sliding up his arms, feeling the muscle hidden beneath his dress shirt. “Yes.”
His lips meet yours, beard tickling your skin as he kisses you. You let him lead, leaning into him as he pulls you closer against his chest. He’s so warm, so firm under your hands as you grip his shoulders. His hand slides from your hip to your back, a gasp parting your lips as his calloused fingers touch the bare skin of your back. Goosebumps raise on your skin, a shiver running down your spine at his touch. He tilts his head, taking advantage of your parted lips to slip his tongue into your mouth.
He tastes like wine, a quiet sound leaving your throat as he pulls you tighter against him, pressing your body into his. You can feel all of him, the hard ridges, the strength in his body as he cages you in his arms. Your head is spinning, intoxicated purely by the smell and taste of him.
Something rumbles deep in his chest, your entire body shivering in response. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, your hips pressed flush against his. You can feel him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your stomach. You’ve been able to smell the musky tinge of arousal in his scent all evening, and you wonder how long he’s been hard. Has it been since he saw you? Or has he been thinking about this all day?
The thought thrills you, makes your omega preen in the back of your mind. You did this. Your alpha is all worked up because of you.
A whimper leaves your lips as his hand slips lower, smoothing over the curve of your ass. He mumbles a curse against your lips before they blaze a path down the line of your jaw to your neck. You tilt your head, bearing your throat for him. A low rumble of approval vibrates through his chest, his hand squeezing your ass. The sound has your omega practically belly up, the dampness between your thighs intensifying as your scent gets heavier in the air.
John groans against your throat, teeth nipping at your neck just over your scent gland. “Such a good girl for me.” He groans, his hand on your ass guiding your hips to grind against his. “Such a good omega.”
You whine at the praise, hands blindly sliding down his chest to pull at the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers are trembling slightly from excitement, fumbling as you attempt to get his shirt off. You need to feel him, his skin against yours, the warmth of him pressed against you.
“Easy pup.” His voice rumbles against your throat, teeth nipping at the delicate skin before he pulls back, hands taking over to strip him of his button up and undershirt.
You lick your lips as his skin is revealed to you, your hand automatically lifting to touch him. You hesitate for a half a second but he makes no move to stop you. Your eyes trail over his form, over the many, many scars that decorate his skin like some kind of macabre painting. Lines and jagged slices, the telltale star shaped marks of bullet wounds. Cuts and nicks from knives or bullets, you can’t tell the difference.
Your fingers settle on a rather large scar on his side, starting at the base of his ribs and curling around his side. It’s an old scar, but the skin is still rough and uneven. Whatever had caused it, it took a chunk out of him. You don’t want to think about it, about how every scar could have been a close call. How many times he’s been on the brink of death.
“I’ll tell you about them later.” He says, taking your hand in his and lifting it to his lips. He kisses your fingertips, his beard tickling your skin. “Tonight is about you.”
He pulls you close again, leaning down to press his lips to yours. His hands are warm against your back as he wraps himself around you again, trapping your hands against his bare chest. Your nails dig into his skin as his hands sink lower, grabbing handfuls of your ass. He groans, sinking his teeth into your bottom lip. He presses you backwards, and you trust him to guide you until your legs hit the side of his bed.
“Gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?” He growls, his voice rough around the edges as his alpha slips through.
“Yes, alpha!” You gasp against his lips, your head tilting back in submission.
“Always such a good omega for me.” He praises you, teeth nipping at your throat. “Good omegas kneel for their alphas.” He says, pushing you backwards so you plop down on his bed. “But a good alpha,” He slowly lowers himself before you, dropping to one knee, then the other as his hands wrap around your ankles. “Kneels for his omega.”
Your face warms as you stare down at him, unable to do anything but watch as his hands make quick work of your shoes, setting them neatly beside the bed. His skin is rough against yours as his hands drag up your legs, slowly parting them. He moves himself closer, kneeling between your parted thighs. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he reaches up, pushing on your stomach until you're laying flat on his bed. He can see up your skirt now, and you're silently glad for the lacy panties Johnny had insisted on.
“Do you trust me?” His lips brush your inner thigh as his hands pause just at the hem of your skirt where it's ridden up almost to your hips.
“Yes, alpha.” You say, lifting your head to stare down at him.
He meets your gaze as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his hands continuing to press upwards until your dress is hiked around your waist. Your heart is fluttering rapidly in your chest as you stare down at him, his gaze leaving your eyes to stare at the soaked lace barely covering your most private parts.
His hands leave your hips to curl around the lace, giving it a sharp tug. The fabric snaps easily, the shreds falling to the floor. Your lip part as you stare at him in shock.
“I'll buy you a new pair.” He says, his hands gripping your thighs to pull them further apart.
The cool air in the room hits your slicked folds, making you shudder. He's barely touched you and already you can feel how slick you are. His lips press against your inner thigh again, blazing a path upwards. His gaze meets yours again as his hands shift to grip your hips, adjusting your position on the bed before he leans in, dragging his tongue through your folds.
You gasp at the foreign sensation, your thighs pressing against his broad shoulders. His mouth is warm as it closes over your pussy, his tongue licking another slow stripe up your folds until he reaches the spot that has your inhale turning into a gasp.
He focuses his attention there, dragging slow lines across your clit with his tongue. You let your arms give out, laying flat on the bed again. Little whimpers leave your lips as he teases your clit, your thighs already trembling. It’s been so long since you’ve touched yourself. Not since before you left the institute four months ago.
You don’t last very long.
Your thighs squeeze around his shoulders as your orgasm is ripped from you suddenly. You let out a cry that’s probably too loud, but you don’t care who could have heard you as your back arches off the bed, pressing your hips closer to John’s face. His hands hold your thighs, keeping you still as his tongue continues to tease your clit, working you through your orgasm.
It’s not until you’re writhing in his grasp, letting out little whimpers that he relents, lifting his face from between your thighs. His beard is shiny with your juices, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. It’s obscene and yet, it has heat pulsing straight between your legs again. He lets out a chuckle, the scent of your arousal washing over him.
“Fuckin sweet as sugar, love.” He says as he pushes himself up from between your legs, his body folding over yours on the bed.
His face presses into your neck, inhaling deeply. Your pussy flutters at the thought of him claiming you now, sinking his teeth into your skin to mark you as his forever. He could. It would be so easy for him to do it. His tongue laves over the skin covering your scent gland, a shiver running through you. Your arms wrap around him, holding him against you as your scents mingle, musky with arousal.
“Alpha...” You whine, your hips pressing up against the bulge in his pants. He’s fully hard now, the fabric of his pants providing delicious friction against your folds.
He shushes you, pressing a kiss to your throat before he pushes himself up over you. “Soon, love.” He says, moving until he’s standing in front of you. “Think you’re a bit overdressed still.”
Your eyes dart down to his pants. “So are you.”
He smirks, his hands dropping to your waist, slowly pushing your dress up higher. You let him slip it over your head, lifting your arms to help him. You’re bare before him, warmth spreading through your veins as he stares down at you. Your hands lift, coming to rest on his thighs. You can feel the muscle through the fabric, the strength of him beneath your hands. How easily he could take control, pin you down and take what he wants with little regard for you or your pleasure. How easily he could hurt you, snap your bones like they’re toothpicks, bruise and batter your body without even straining a muscle.
Yet he stands here, patiently watching as your hands move closer and closer to the prominent bulge in his fitted pants. He doesn’t even twitch as your hand cups his hard length, your breath stuttering at the sheer size of him. He’s big like most alphas are, or so you’ve heard.
His eyes stare into you as you undo his belt, popping the button on his pants open. He finally moves as you pull down the zipper, helping you tug his pants and briefs down. His cock stands at attention, almost as stiff as he is. You stare at his veiny cock with wide eyes, the tip flushed almost red with how hard he is.
“Christ.” You breathe, staring at him in awe.
You did that.
“Easy, love.” He says, leaning down to wrap an arm around your waist. “I said tonight was about you.”
He moves you so you’re laid out on the bed, your head hitting his pillow. The scent of him floods your nose as he joins you on the bed, the frame creaking as he kneels between your legs. Nerves twist in your stomach as you continue to stare at his cock bobbing between his thighs as he runs his hands along your legs. It’s going to hurt, you know that. It suddenly seems daunting, this request. At least during your heat you’d be so out of it with need you wouldn’t really feel anything. And you’d have plenty of slick to help.
“None of that.” He says, squeezing your thighs gently. “I told you I’d take care of you.”
You nod, swallowing thickly.
“We’ve got more work to do before we reach that point. I’m not just going to stuff my cock into you like some needy pup.” He stares at you. “You tell me and I’ll stop, alright?”
You nod again. “Yes, alpha.”
Your breath hitches as his hands reach the junction of your thighs, one moving to your stomach, the other dragging through your folds, gathering your wetness on his fingers. They’re so much thicker than your own, your pussy clenching as he presses against the entrance.
“Relax for me, love.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on your stomach with his thumb.
His finger presses into you and your lips part at the intrusion. You clamp tight around his finger, making him groan.
“Easy.” He says, his thumb moving to circle your clit.
A breathy whine leaves your lips as his finger presses deeper into you, reaching further than you ever could. Your hand reaches up to thread through his hair, letting the short cropped strands slide through your fingers. It’s softer than you imagined, though you expect he too had spent the afternoon preparing for tonight as well. The mental image of him lathering himself in moisturizer would have made you laugh if his finger hadn’t brushed against a spot inside you that has your hips lifting off the bed.
He leans down, lips blazing a path up your stomach, between your breasts to your throat. He swallows your moans as he works you open with his fingers, the lewd sound of his fingers thrusting into your wet pussy only adding to the pleasure coursing through you. You can feel it building within you, heat burning through your veins. Price groans against your lips as your nails scratch his scalp, his cock leaking against your thigh. You want him, need him inside of you. You need to feel him, you need to be close to him.
“Alpha, please.” You whimper, tugging at his hair.
He stares down at you, eyes blown with lust. “Please, what?”
“Need you.” You whimper, grinding against his hand. “Please, sir.”
Price closes his eyes, letting out a groan. His cock twitches against your thigh, his fingers slipping from you. He breathes out a curse, shifting to open his nightstand. He pulls out a bottle of lube, sitting back on his knees to squirt some into his hand. You’re plenty slick, but you watch as he rubs the lube on his cock, tossing the bottle back into the open drawer.
He kneels between your thighs again, staring down at you as one of his hands comes to rest on your hip. You feel intoxicated, your head spinning from the intensity of his scent around you and the knowledge of what’s about to happen.
Price folds his body over yours again, the head of his cock brushing your folds. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you, parting your thighs further for him as his tip catches on your opening. Your hands grip his shoulders as he presses into you, the stretch stinging a bit as he works you open. This is it. There’s no going back now.
You don’t want to.
You whimper quietly as he pushes into you, nails biting into his skin. It’s too much, yet you can’t get enough of it as he sinks further in. You let out a shaky breath as he pulls away from your lips staring down at your face.
“Alright?” He asks, stilling where he is.
You nod. “Just need a moment. You’re really big.”
His lips twitch up into a smile, a pleased growl rumbling through his chest. “Don’t start talking like that, love.” He says, leaning down to press kisses to your face.
“Or what?” You ask, your nails digging harder into his skin.
“I might not be able to control myself.” He growls, his alpha slipping out around the edges of his voice.
Your pussy clenches at his words, walls clamping down around him. He lets out another growl, hiking your leg up over his hip. It forces him deeper into you, your breath catching at the feeling of him spreading you open.
“Fuck,” You breathe, rocking your hips to take him even deeper into you.
John’s arms frame your head as he presses his body against yours. Your arms slip around his back, legs locking around his waist as he begins to move slowly, working himself deeper and deeper into you until he’s pressed flush against you. He stills for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as you both breathe. You’re trembling just slightly, overwhelmed with being so close to him, to your alpha. The pain and discomfort is gone, replaced by burning heat as desire pulses through your veins.
“Please, alpha.” You whimper.
He shushes you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’ve got you, omega.”
Your skin is slick with sweat already as he begins to rock his hips into you. Your hands press into his back, feeling the muscles shift and flex as he moves. It feels good, the friction of your bodies, the way he stretches you open with every thrust. Your head is spinning with pleasure at the thought of being so close to another person, being so connected with someone else.
Not just someone else, with your alpha.
The wet squelch of your pussy as he thrusts into you is loud, the mattress creaking as he picks up speed. You’re trembling, your thighs squeezing around his hips as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. You’re not sure how he’s lasted this long, especially without any sort of release for himself yet tonight.
Perhaps it was the training he spoke about earlier.
You’re not sure how he manages it. You couldn’t have that kind of control. Not after this. Not after knowing how good it can feel, how good he can make you feel.
“Fucking feel so good.” He grunts, his breath fanning her ear. His own skin is slicked with sweat, muscles twitching under her hands. “So fucking tight and warm.”
“John!” You gasp, digging your fingers into his shoulder blades as he picks up the pace even more, his hips snapping against yours.
“Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum like a good omega? Need you to cum for me.” He grunts, staring down at you.
You let out a whine, arching against him as you seek your second high of the night. His cock brushes that spot inside of you, stars nearly erupting behind your eyes.
“Right there.” You gasp, thighs shaking around his hips. “Fuck, right there!”
You’re being loud but you don’t care, nails dragging down his back as he focuses his thrusts right at that spot inside you. You cum with a cry, pussy squeezing around him. He lets out a loud groan, his hips stilling as he twitches inside you. His muscles go lax, his body falling on top of yours. He manages to keep himself from squishing you beneath him, his face pressing against your neck.
The smell of sex, arousal, sweat, and your own combined scents are heavy in the air. You’re shaking, still wrapped tightly around John as he lays on top of you. He’s breathing heavily, warm breaths fanning against your neck. You don’t want to move, your mind buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm still.
“Alright?” He murmurs, lips pressing a gentle kiss against your throat.
You nod, slowly unwinding yourself from around him. “Yeah. ‘M good.”
“Fucking Christ, a man could get addicted to that.” He says, lifting his face from your neck. “Sweet little omega.”
Your face warms more than it already feels, and you lean into his touch as his fingers brush your cheek.
“Let me go get something to clean this mess up with.” He says, pushing himself up so he’s kneeling.
You can’t help but giggle as his joints pop and he lets out a groan at the effort. “Need a break, old man.”
His eyes flash playfully, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Going with the old man insults again, huh?”
You give him a look. “You’re the one grunting while getting up.”
You let out a surprised yelp as he brings his hand down on your thigh, the skin tingling as he gets up. “I’ll show you old man.” He murmurs as he heads for his en suite.
You bite your lip as you begin to feel his release slipping out of you, the feeling causing desire to stir in your stomach once more.
John tsks as he comes back, wiping the mess between your thighs. “Needy little thing.” He practically purrs, stepping away to toss the rag into the bathroom sink before he returns, climbing back onto the bed.
You press as close to him as you can, nuzzling into his neck. Your limbs are still twitching a bit, your mind buzzing from the aftermath of what had just transpired. John wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest. You press a gentle kiss to his neck, earning a rumble in response. Your own rumble starts up as you purr contently, tossing a leg over his hip to allow you to get as close to him as possible.
He huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Comfortable?”
You purr louder in response, sleep beginning to fog the corners of your mind.
“Good girl.” He says, pressing another kiss to your head. “Sleep. Alpha’s got you.”
Taglist:
@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph
#call of duty#call of duty fic#cod fic#poly 141 x reader#poly 141#tf 141 x reader#john price x reader#captain price x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#x reader#a/b/o#omegaverse#alpha beta omega dynamics
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hello love! i know you probably a dumpster load of requests so i apologize for taking your time. but i just had a thought.; james potter is totally the kind of guy to tell his girlfriend he's taken when drunk. like that man is to loyal for his own good. even when his own gf is trying to bring to home, he's just like "no. i've got a girlfriend that I love DEARLY. leave me alone" and when she keeps trying he'd call for sirius for backup😭. don't feel guilty if you don't do this!! i just wanted to share my thought, with or without you writing it! have an AMAZING day or night, and keep being YOU!! you inspire many people whether you believe that or not, it stays true!!!
Thanks sweetheart, love you!
cw: alcohol
modern au
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 844 words
You find your boyfriend in a corner booth, hanging onto Sirius’ arm and waxing poetic about their school days.
“They never figured out how we always avoided Minnie whenever she wanted to find us,” he snickers, eyes glimmering. “We were soooo slippery.”
“I think she knew everything,” says Remus, taking a sip of his drink. You notice there’s not one in front of James; it must have been confiscated. “She just liked us—some of us, that is—” He hides a smirk behind his glass. “—well enough to let us get away with it all.” He spots you and, with a nod, turns his attention to Sirius to give you and James space.
James humphs noncommittally, confused as to why Remus no longer seems to be entertaining him.
You come up on his other side, touching his muscled shoulder lightly. “Hey.”
James turns swiftly, clearing not having noticed you walking over. You’re expecting a smile and a hug and expectant, puckered lips—his usual greeting for you—but instead his eyes narrow behind his glasses, brows twitching together almost imperceptibly.
“Hello,” he says, somewhat stiffly.
You feel your lips curve into a bemused sort of smile. “Hi, handsome. Ready to go home?”
He guffaws. Actually guffaws, like you’ve just suggested he go jump in the Thames. “I think not,” he says. “I have a girlfriend.”
A tiny laugh startles out of you. “Yeah, I’m aware. You alright?”
Now he gives you a smile. Or his best attempt at one, but James has always been a terrible actor, and the false grin manifests as a grimace. “M’good, thanks.”
He starts to turn back towards his friends, but you pull on his sleeve.
“C’mon, Jamie,” you urge. “It’s time to go, yeah?” James turns around, looking truly scandalized now. You give his arm a tug. “Let’s go home.”
“No,” he insists, firmer than you knew could be managed with a slur. “I told you, I have a girlfriend. She’s waiting at my home, ‘nd I love her very much. Leave me alone.”
“James,” you laugh. “Honey, it’s me.”
“Pads.” He turns around, wrapping his arm around Sirius’ shoulders like he needs to hold onto something lest you try and haul him away. “Pads, this woman is trying to take me home. Tell ‘er I have a girlfriend.”
Your mouth drops open. “James!”
Sirius turns slowly, raking his gaze over you. He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Get lost, babe. This one’s taken.”
Then he jolts and cuts a glare towards Remus, who sips from his drink innocently. “Be nice,” he reminds his boyfriend, foot moving back under his own chair.
Sirius sighs, rolling his eyes. “Prongs,” he says with great reluctance, “this is your girlfriend.”
Even drunk, James knows enough to be suspicious of his friend when he’s in a mischief-making mood. He squints at Sirius. “My girlfriend s’at home,” he reasons.
“Your girlfriend is here,” Sirius says evenly, and you can’t blame James for his skepticism; if you weren’t fully aware that you are here, you wouldn’t trust Sirius’ deadpan stare either.
“I texted her, James,” Remus says helpfully. “She’s here because I told her where we were.”
Your boyfriend’s lips part, and he turns to you with something between joy and heartache—but the shock of both—written all over his face. “Sweetheart,” he cries, “it’s you!”
“Yeah,” you laugh, letting him tug you forward by the hips into an awkward hug. You set a consoling hand on top of his head. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
“My sweetheart,” he mumbles into your stomach. “I didn’t know it was you, angel. Of course I’ll go home with you.”
“Glad to hear it.” You pat his back, heat rising to your cheeks at the display.
James turns his head, still gripping you tightly so the side of his face is pressed to your front. “You texted her for me?” he asks Remus, maudlin.
“Well, I texted her because I didn’t feel like walking in the opposite direction of our flat to carry you home,” Remus says, then shrugs. “But for you too, sure.”
“Thank you, Moony,” James croons.
Remus turns to hide a smile, and you take James’ head in your hands, angling his face back up towards you. “Hi, handsome,” you try again. “Ready to go home?”
He bobs his head happily, clambering out of his seat and whistling rowdily when you slip an arm around his waist to help support him. You wonder if the heat from your face could be harvested to power a hospital or something. You wave goodbye to his friends as James calls over your shoulder how much he’ll miss them until he sees them tomorrow.
“M’so excited to go home, baby.” He leans into your side as you maneuver the both of you out the door of the pub. “I’ve been dying to get home to you. You should’a heard, earlier, I was talking to this other girl ‘nd I told her, ‘I’m just dying to get home to my girlfriend’.”
“Yeah, I remember,” you say. “That was me.”
“Oh, right!”
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter x self insert#james potter fanfiction#james potter fanfic#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter imagine#james potter scenario#james potter drabble#james potter blurb#james potter oneshot#james potter one shot#marauders#the marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#hp marauders#marauders x reader
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[Image ID (sorta, basically just the text from it):
GET KOSA TRENDING.
STOP SCROLLING NOW!
AS OF FEBRUARY 21ST, 2024, WE GOT FIVE DAYS UNTIL THE DAY OF DECISION OF THE KOSA BILL, WHICH WILL CAUSE MASS CENSORSHIP ROUND THE INTERNET IF PASSED. OR DOOMSDAY. WE NEED EVERYONE TO KNOW ABOUT THIS AND CONTRIBUTE. I'M NOT GIVING UP ON YOU ALL.
WE'RE DOWN TO THE WIRE BUT WE CAN'T GIVE UP YET. IF WE GIVE UP, EVERYTHING IS OVER. IF WE DON'T, AT LEAST WE HAVE A CHANCE.
I'M THE ONE WHO SOUNDED THE ALARM, AND I'M NOT GOING TO CURL UP AND DIE YET.
Reblog this post in every LEGAL way you can under the Tumblr guidelines with the appropriate tags. TELL AND TAG EVERYONE YOU KNOW, then add the tags to see below... and more if you can think of any complying.
Visit badinternetbills.com if you want to find a way to defeat KOSA. It WILL NOT take much of your time. Reblog with any other information or sources, too-- but make sure to reblog if you can.
Reblog if you support lgbtq+ content.
Reblog if you support questioning queer youth and/or abused youth getting the information they need.
Reblog if you support Ao3 and/or other sites that wholeheartedly preserve talentedly made media.
Reblog if you're going to repost this on other sites than Tumblr and spread the word across Twitter, Tik Tok, Pinterest, or elsewhere, alongside the link to badinternetbills.com.
END image ID]
Hey, everyone. So yeah, this is happening. We're still fighting this battle. And we can't give up now. We can't. We can't stand idly by while one of the most important resources that helped us all wake up, or at least start to question things, is being threatened by the government.
We can't stand idly by when kids, teens, and adults just like us still trapped inside might lose access to the resource that could help them wake up. We can't stand idly by when they might lose access to their non JW friends and family. We CAN'T stand idly by when we can do something to stop this bill from passing.
I am sick and tired of this same old song, where conservative fuckers higher up think they can oppress everyone. I am FUCKING SICK of it.
Please, reblog both this post and the original post linked above what I've written, and do what you can to stop KOSA, please. We are running out of time.
I suggest that if it is within your power to do so, that you do more than simply reblog and assume someone else will do something. DON'T assume that. Please do more than just reblogging if you are able to, because that's not really enough at this point.
Call/email representatives in the House and tell them to oppose KOSA (you may want to list different reasons depending on who you're calling, some House representatives are anti-LGBTQ+, so it may be best to tell them to oppose because it violates people's privacy, safety, and anonymity online). Print posters and put them up where legal if you can.
Sharing all this information to other social media sites (Instagram, Reddit, TikTok, the bird app) to reach more people can really help too. The wider the reach, the better.
Thank you. Now let's fucking rip that bill apart like we rip apart Watchtower magazines and eat it for fucking breakfast.
(In a "we're eating it and the politicians who are sponsoring it are looking on in horror" kind of way)
#kids online safety act#internet censorship#stop kosa#exjw#ex jw#ex jehovah's witness#ex jehovah's witnesses#not necessarily ex jw related tags but still relevant bc this bill also affects these communities:#queer#lgbtqia#lgbt#lgbtqplus#lgbtq community#ex catholic#ex mormon#ex christian#ex evangelical#ex cult
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GREETINGS BUCKAROOS as you may have heard CAMP DAMASCUS is nominated for a bram stoker award this year. this is biggest literary award in horror and i am so deeply moved by this recognition. thank you horror writers association you have proven so much love to me. i feel especially moved as an autistic buckaroo writing an explicitly autistic lead character
when things like this happen there is suddenly a LOT of attention on authors and books and that is so wonderful. as you know i am always looking for ways to PROVE LOVE IS REAL and DIRECTING this kind of attention towards good causes can often be a powerful maneuver
with that in mind i have written a new 'no sex' tingler, NOT POUNDED BY MY HANDSOME SENTIENT STOKER AWARD NOMINATION FOR CAMP DAMASCUS BECAUSE THE TWO OF US ARE TOO BUSY CELEBRATING THE FACT THAT A STORY WITH AN AUTISTIC LEAD CHARACTER BY AN AUTISTIC AUTHOR MADE THE SHORTLIST FOR A MAJOR LITERARY AWARD AND NOW WE’RE DONATING SOME MONEY TO AUTISTIC SELF ADVOCACY NETWORK.
instead of hosting on amazon, this tingler is FREE to read and download on chucks patreon, with a suggested donation of 3 dollars to AUTISTIC SELF ADVOCACY NETWORK, a fantastic organization that works to help autistic buckaroos, and to support the wide, unique range of this experience. i have chosen three dollars because that is what i usually sell tinglers for, but you can donate as much or as little as you like. if you cannot afford donation at this time that is just fine bud, enjoy this book on me
thank you so much for trotting along on this journey, we have come so far together and i am overwhelmed with gratitude for the buckaroo community, for each and every one of your own unique ways that create this beautiful whole. step by step we are SHAPING AND BENDING the timeline towards love TOGETHER, and there is no sign of slowing down.
so enjoy this tingler, donate if you can, and thank you again to horror writers association for this incredible honor. LOVE IS REAL LETS HECKIN TROT
----
When the Stoker Award nominations are announced, Chuck Tingle’s feelings are complicated. He’s honored and thankful to be considered for such a prestigious award, with all this new attention comes new forms of anxiety. In Chuck’s case, that means a whole team of paparazzi dinosaurs kicking down his door and flying through his windows.
Now Chuck’s on the run, but a chance encounter with a horror legend helps Chuck realize that it’s okay to be himself despite all this newfound pressure. Being himself is exactly what got him here in the first place.
This important tale is 4,000 words of sexless love and appreciation between Chuck Tingle and his kind and generous Stoker Award nomination.
----
READ THE TINGLER HERE
#camp damascus#queer horror#love is real#tingleverse#actually autistic#lgbtqia#buckaroo lifestyle#chuck tingle#stoker award
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That's a Wrap - One Shot
Pairing: Director!Natasha x Fem!Actor!Reader x Actor!Wanda (MINORS DNI - 18+)
Summary: You and Wanda can’t seem to get this scene right. With your director’s help, you manage.
MINORS DNI - 18+
Tags: Is Y/N in the room with us right now (They aren’t), Dom!Natasha, Switch!Wanda, Bottom!Reader. Dub-con, power dynamic (Director/Actor), voyeurism, degradation, praise, semi-public sex, semi-orgasm denial, light edging, objectification, oral (W receiving), fingering (R receiving), strap-on use(R receiving), some pet names (baby, sweetheart, darling, ma’am, Tasha(For N), Wan/Wands(For W), Mommy(For W, used loosely)), Nat calls her strap her dick, semi-previous established relationship? Porn with plot, clothed sex, sextape, light aftercare, fluff at the end.
A/N: Welcome to the first issue of Smut Saturdays! Want to really create some good shit in this genre, so I'm posting at least one spicy fic every Saturday (if I can help it)! This came to me in a vision (called the five minutes before my math class)- After my last smut fic did well (An Important Lesson, Prof!Wanda x Reader, which you can read here), I thought I’d do some WandaNat practice! Not proofread, written in the span of an evening. This is a crime against intimacy coordinators, I’m so sorry. Asides over. Natasha wears a strap to her films and she can dick me down with it, please and thank you!
Word Count: 2.4k - Read Length: 8 minutes, 49 seconds.
~~~
It was never fun when the producers came by.
They’d always arrive in droves of two or three, never the top dog- as if Natasha’s ‘avant-garde chick flick’, as they called it, wasn’t worth their time. They certainly treated it as much. Today was the worst day for them to arrive, in pressed jackets and always on a phone call, because today you were filming the sex scene. It was more of a ‘romance’ scene, with alluring cinematography and enough passion to make your eyes fall out, yet you hadn’t even gotten to remove any clothes from your beautiful costar- Wanda. You knew she was incredible, her previous films as a fem fatale showing her dominant streak, however the spark couldn’t burn when interruptions from the suits kept happening. You weren’t on a porn set, and yet sometimes you wish you were. Might’ve been faster, or at least more fun.
“From the top,” A groveled voice muttered, Natasha’s steely gaze breaking into your skull- though a part of you wished she’d break your back. The redhead had always been an inspiration, one of the leading reasons for your participation in her project, besides her being so fine. But now, she looked pissed, worn down by hours of appeasing the producer’s half-baked suggestions and guarding you and Wanda from their prying eyes. “Yes Ma’am,” you replied, earning a slight chuckle from your director, the twinkle in her eye not lost on you- she was on her last legs, but it was yours and Wanda’s compliance that kept her going.
You’d return to your blocking, centered in the middle of your ‘apartment bedroom’, with Wanda’s hand placed gently on your waist. Your roles were lovers, reuniting after a long day of hardship, slowing down after it all. You’d stare up at her, the mild exasperation in your expression making her smile. She’d send a wink down to you, muttering something about being ‘bored too’, but ‘not hating kissing you again’, or the like. She’d invited you out to coffee tonight, and especially after a day like this, you’d take it. Perhaps you’d even forget the paparazzi and really kiss her as you’d been wanting to do this whole shoot. Throw a bone to the fanfiction writers and make their canon comply with reality. Maybe. It was Natasha’s words which startled you from your thoughts, a look of tenderness overcoming your face as you’d sink into your character, “Action!”
Within an instant, Wanda hiked her hands under the hem of your shirt, eyes darting down to your face. Her palms were warm against you, smooth against your soft skin, as your head rested gently on her shoulder. She’d tug at the fabric- and you’d send her a quick nod, smiling as you’d lean up to capture her lips in yours-
“Well that’s not very marketable!” A producer would crow, scoffing with both his hands outstretched towards the two of you. You’d freeze, feeling all of the passion drain out from the scene, no more than a shell of itself. His bald head wasn’t very marketable, looking like a morally dubious Mr. Clean- and yet you didn’t comment on it. He’d look at Natasha, the woman pinching the bridge of her nose with a stern sigh, and you gulped. Oh, shit. She was going to lose it. “Can’t you get their clothes off faster? Our focus groups won’t wait around for-”
“Fucking Christ, get- out!” Natasha shouted, a growl in her tone bringing heat to your face. She scowled, roaring to the surrounding suits, “Leave, get off my set- it’s my fucking turn to direct them.” Her hands would fan away their deer-in-headlights looks, ushering them out before locking the door. Her fiery gaze would bore into you then, jaw locked as her heels would click towards you and Wanda, many feet apart.
The two shared a knowing nod- And before you could speak, your director grabbed Wanda by her shirt collar and pulled her into a bruising kiss. Your jaw would drop as the brunette’s eyes widened, fluttering shut as Wanda moaned into the embrace- Natasha’s hands planted firmly on her tits. She’d squeeze them, earning a gasp from Wanda, your costar’s head swung back as Natasha swiped her thumbs across her nipples. Your director’s gaze would strike yours, and you understood why Wanda’s submission was so quick. You shuddered at the redhead’s gleaming smirk, her voice a husked whisper, “Get those clothes off and get on the bed for me, baby. Now.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Your reply was instant, Natasha’s grin only widening as you’d shed your layers, kneeling on the mattress’s soft sheets. They were cold, goosebumps settling up your spine yet you wouldn’t move, eyes trained obediently on Natasha. You were so perfect for her.
Natasha’s mouth would return to Wanda’s, pressing her into the faux wall that had outlined the bedroom. Her hand would splay against Wanda’s stomach, and you saw how she hiked up the shirt there, continuing to palm her tits while unclasping Wanda’s bra with the other. She’d pepper kisses across the brunette’s neck, sucking hickeys the lower she’d go.
They’d part only so Wanda’s top could come completely off, your director keeping a claiming touch on Wanda’s hip as she’d look back at you over her shoulder. Her hair was wild, mused from Wanda’s hands slung loosely around her shoulders while her expression remained flushed, dark eyes darting down to the slick that pooled between your legs. Wanda’s voice would ring to you, almost reverent as her hips would stutter against Natasha’s, “She’s fucking drooling for us, Tasha..”
The redhead would bite back a smirk as she’d watch you twitch. You ached to touch them, yourself, anything- your hands already balled into fists on your thighs, legs rubbing together, desperate for friction. But neither had given the command, and you had an inkling from their hungry looks that they wanted you needy, right where they had you. Natasha’s rasp came second, “Then show her what I taught you.”
Wanda would reach you first, discarding the rest of her clothes in the process. Her hands trailed warm touches up your legs and to your chest, digging into your soft flesh as her lips would meet yours. It was explosive, sweet and tender yet with a ferocity that claimed you quickly, heating up your skin as her knee would slot between your thighs. You’d feel Natasha’s calloused fingers on the small of your back, the sinking of her weight in the mattress behind you, and her tone husked in your ear, “Stretch her out for me, Wan- like we practiced.” Your director’s words sent a buzz to your core, cunt grinding mercilessly into the sheets below as Wanda’s hand would trail there, dragging two fingers along your folds before arcing dazzling circles around your clit.
You’d eagerly press your hips into her touch, moaning lowly as she’d chuckle, “So wet for me, sweetheart…bet I can just slip right in.” She’d coax her fingers inside, your pussy walls taking her gladly as Wanda curled her digits against that spongy spot. Your back would arch, head growing fuzzy as you’d feel your slick drip down her hand. Her thumb would press into your clit as you’d buck your hips against her, cursing a quick “Fuck-” which was quickly swallowed up by Wanda’s mouth. She’d bite your lip, dragging it with her teeth as she’d settle into her rhythm, spare hand palming your tits with a rougher grasp, “Been waiting for this, haven’t you sweetheart- pretty whore, just for us.”
“Mhm, good girl just wants to be fucked, don’t you?” Natasha would grit, and you could see her stroking something behind your back. She’d unzipped her slacks- her strap heavy in her hand, glistening with the spit she’d gathered in her palm. Natasha bucked her hips against her hold, cursing as the cock’s base would rub against her clit. She looked incredible, sweat across her brow as her hand would clench around the toy, like she could feel it. “Keep going, Wands- want her perfect for my dick.”
Natasha would pant, breathing ragged as her hand moved in time with Wanda’s fingers- curling into you almost torturously, feeling your cunt clench around her. The brunette’s kiss would claim you again, moaning into her warmth as her thumb would circle your clit. She’d sigh almost lovingly, fondness overtaking her expression as your head found the crook of her neck, “She’s already perfect, Tasha-” She’d coo, although her hand wouldn’t stop, gasping at the squelching sound of her fingers up your cunt, “This pussy was made for us, darling.”
Their words and touch brought you so close, yet Wanda’s hands slowed down when she felt your legs quiver or your breathing seize up, never giving you what you needed. You’d squirm against Wanda, begging for more, a lingering touch, anything- “Please, Wan- I‘m so close,” You whined, earning a tut from your costar. She’d devour your pleas, lost to time as her mouth would reach yours, softer than before. You felt her sympathetic smile against you as she’d shake her head, locking eyes with Natasha’s heavy stare, “Not yet, sweetheart..It’s not my turn anymore.”
The redhead groaned when Wanda slid her fingers out of you, her fingers shimmering with your arousal. Your walls fluttered around nothing, aching for anyone’s touch as you felt Natasha’s rugged grasp on your hips, pulling you up and back so your pelvis was against hers. The strap had warmed in her hand, dragging between your legs. You were dripping for her, soft sparks of pleasure seizing you as her tip would brush against your clit. Her voice would thunder through you, almost delirious with her own need, “Fucking finally..want this pussy all to myself…”
Wanda would chuckle at that, your director kneading at your hips as Wanda’s thighs settled in front of your mouth, your arms propping yourself just above her soaked cunt. “We promised to share, Tasha..” She’d croon, face flushed and touch softer than Natasha’s as she’d cradle your face in her palms, “Such a pretty girl..are you ready for your reward, darling?” You nodded, a flurry of sensation hitting you all at once- Natasha’s strap sinking into you as the redhead would push your shoulder blades down, pressing your face between Wanda’s legs.
The stretch was incredible, the woman behind you vicious as she’d drive her dick into you, bottoming out as your mouth would be smothered against Wanda’s cunt. Each thrust would drive Wanda crazy, your gasps and whimpers vibrating right into her core, especially as you’d flat your tongue against her clit, suckling on the sensitive nub. Her thighs would threaten to shut on you, her stretched words lost in your pussydrunk haze, “Yes, like that sweetheart- such a good girl..-” Natasha would rock her hips into yours, pace bruising as she’d pull your thighs flush to hers. You’d hear her muffled curses as she’d bottom out again, sighing as if she could feel you clench around her. “Baby..fuck, so perfect for us…” Wanda’s hands would thread into your hair, anchoring her hold on you as she’d press your face further into her cunt.
The sight would echo a curse from Natasha’s mouth, her hips growing a little more erratic, “Fucking christ, she’s our perfect little whore, aren’t you baby-” You’d try to nod, moaning as Natasha’s hand would press further into your back, keeping you from moving an inch, “Don’t even think, baby- just fucking take it, fuck-”
Time would seem to slow, your brain fuzzing into blissful static as you’d feel Wanda’s thighs tremor around your head, her grip tightening as she’d see your body tremble in Natasha’s touch. “Come with me, sweetheart- be a good girl and come for Mommy.” Her saccharine words spurred you into a blinding release, your tongue working Wanda through her orgasm as your body quaked with your own. You’d feel Natasha follow shortly thereafter, cursing aloud as she’d pull herself out of you, watching as you’d clench around nothing. Her hands would immediately find your waist, bringing you gently up to kneel with your back against her clothed front.
Panting, your arms would shake as you’d catch your breath, leaning up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. You could feel both women’s eyes on you as you’d suckle on your fingers, cleaning up with an exaggerated moan, looking towards Wanda as you’d pop your hand out of your mouth, your words almost dreamy, “Mmm, so good, Wan..” You’d giggle as Wanda’s face would alight in blush, although the clink of metal and fabric drove you away from your teasing.
Natasha’s hands would be rushed as she’d pull her pants and harness down, eyes heavy with a lust that made you shudder, “Switch with me, Wands-” She’d grit, thrusting the strap in her general direction before settling calloused palms on your still quivering thighs, her gaze boring into yours, “It’s my turn for her mouth.”
Wanda’s smirk was immediate, sending you another sly wink, “Gladly.”
------------------------------------------
Unbeknownst to the three of you, the cameras had never stopped rolling. That film would never be seen by the public, kept hidden once you left the building. Not to say it couldn't be enjoyed by you three, though.
Natasha and Wanda took you out to coffee afterwards as the brunette had promised. They explained their prior agreement to ‘test the waters’ with you, Wanda working with Natasha on a plan to woo you both in and out of character. The date went well, although with much less lingering glances and more almost-fucking in the back of Wanda’s car afterwards. It was there that the public and paparazzi learned of your relationship, although their camera flash thankfully stopped any romance before it got good. You weren’t on a porn set, after all- and Wanda kept your half-nude form hidden while Natasha cursed out the press. All in a day’s work.
Unfortunately, the day’s work began anew the next day. Filming the romance scene was no difficult measure now, but Natasha’s grin and Wanda’s wandering hands blurred the lines of professionalism. The film crew couldn’t care less, a few of them- such as Kate, a script supervisor- mentioned how they knew it would happen eventually (and won a bet with Peter, who said it’d take until the award show for you three to get together).
However, once you three escaped into Natasha’s office for some ‘paperwork’ as she’d called it, it didn’t matter. They were yours, and that was enough.
~~~
#minors dni#wanda maximoff smut#wanda smut#wandanat smut#natasha romanoff smut#natasha smut#smut with plot#smut#actress wanda#wanda maximoff x fem!reader#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#natasha romanoff x reader#black widow x reader#scarlet witch x reader#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff#wandanat#mommy wanda#wandanat x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#natasha x reader#female reader#fem reader#bearrrwrites
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Forbidden Fruit
Summary: Luke has taken a liking to a certain Dionysus girl that he just can't have, but maybe he can change that.
Warnings!: Super fluffy Over protective father, Fem!Dionysus! Reader, happy ending! Pushing loser!Luke agenda...
A/n: I'm trying something new, this is written from my laptop rather than my phone. I think I type faster on here for sure. I really hope that there is no like, difference in the formats and what not. Anyways carry on, hope you enjoy this one :3. - Leafy p.s part 2 is out now!😋😋
Luke watched as you sat at the Dionysus table with your twin brothers and Mr. D. You were so beautiful, the way your hair fell back as you were laughing at something one of your older brothers said.
"Dude, if you want her so bad, then just. I don't know? Talk to her maybe? You look like a creep just staring at her all of the time." Chris said as he flung a piece of broccoli towards Luke.
"Dude! You know I can't that's Mr. D's only daughter, plus she's got two big line backer brothers that'll probably beat me to pulp if I ever did try anything." Luke sighed, looking back at his plate pushing his food around hopelessly.
"Or...maybe, you can just ask Mr. D if you could have her hand?" Chris had suggested. "Besides, the worse he can say is no...and maybe give you bathroom cleaning duty." Chris said.
"Yeah right. He'd probably give me worse." Luke joked. Chris laughed. As he looked back up to look at you again, just to admire you, you were already staring at him. You guys had made eye contact for about .2 seconds before you had already turned back down to your food.
Maybe he had a chance....
"No. Absolutely not." Mr. D said to a very sad Luke now.
"But come on Mr. D, what harm is one date, I'll treat her really well." Luke pleaded with the god, after all, gods love the sound of begging.
"How about-" Mr. D was cut off by a voice Luke knew all to well,
"Hey daddy? Oh." Y/n had stopped at the entry way of Mr. D's office. "Hey Luke," She said timidly, with a slight blush tinting her cheeks.
"Hi Y/n." Luke said with a shy smile.
"No! No! Absolutely not. Luke, I do not give you permission to date or take out, or do anything at all with my daughter.
"But sir-" Luke was cut off, Y/n really had a tendency to cutting people off, it wasn't like it was on purpose.
"But daddy! Why not! Luke's a sweet guy, I've been waiting for him to ask me out for months!" Y/n whined to her dad. She was the baby of her family, and it showed, but what she said about Luke asking her out caught Luke off guard. Had she known about him liking her all of this time? The answer was yes, although Luke was very charming, he wasn't very slick about his feelings of Y/n.
"Sweetheart, please, no boy will ever be good enough for my daughter, and he sure isn't going to be good enough for you but I love the enthusiasm." Mr. D sarcastically remarked.
"Daddy pleaseeee, just give him a chance? For me? I really like him." Y/n pouted and gave her father the best puppy eyes she could. Luke didn't dare to say a word. This was a family discussion. The two stared at each other, almost like a staring contest. Luke could see it in Mr. D's eyes, he was cracking to his daughters pleas. Mr. D let out a sigh.
"Fine!" Mr. D exclaimed. "You two can...date." He said enunciating the word "date" with malicious diction. Y/n exclaimed clapping her hands
"Thank you daddy!" She said as she hugged him and gave him a big smooch on the cheek.
"Thank you sir I-" Luke was cut off again. What is up with these two and cutting people off?
"Yeah Yeah whatever. But I swear to my chair on Olympus, if i hear a little sliver of news that you hurt my babygirl, I can't do anything to you, but her older brothers can." Mr. D reminded Luke.
"Yes sir I," He looked at Y/n who was now beside him and interlocked his hand with hers. She smiled at him. "I won't ever hurt her" Luke stated with confidence.
"Okay, you have my blessing..to take out my daughter." Mr. D reluctantly agreed. The two teenagers with both smiling madly now. "Now get out of here before I change my mind!" He yelled.
"Wait Daddy before I go" Y/n looked her dad in her eyes. "Can you summon me a diet coke? That's what I came here for" She said giggling. Mr. D sighed as a diet coke can popped up in his hands. He handed it to her and gave her a kiss on the forehead. After all, he could never say no to his baby girl.
As the couple walked out of The Big House hand in hand, Y/n came to a stop once they got far enough from the listening ears or her father. "So, what's this talk about this date you want to take me on?" Y/n asks Luke. "Well, I didn't really think I would actually get to his point..." Luke admits.
"Well then, pick me up from my Cabin at 7:00 and have something planned. I'll be waiting." Y/n said as she let go of his hand, and tip toed to kiss his cheek, specifically on his scar. "I'll see you then" She giggled after she saw Luke's state.
He was completely red in the face, and shocked. Y/n just shook her had side to side as she walked away. Luke watched her walk away with a hand on the place where she had so gently kissed him. Boy he really hated to see her leave, but he loved to watch her go. This woman is really going to be the death of me...He thought as he watched her figure get smaller, and smaller. Well, he better get to planning.
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' treat me tonight '
a/n: this is (debatably) some of the best smut i've ever written but i'm still new to the field ! give ya girl some suggestions if desired.
song : i know we could be so happy baby.
warnings : fluffy smut, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), piv sex (unprotected), both reader and carmen have a bit of a praise kink, brief hairpulling, the "L-word," established relationship, gets a little rough towards the end, back scratching, porn with no real plot. not proofread
word count: 2.6k+
MDNI : i am not responsible for your media consumption.
NSFW under the cut — last warning!
"Try it," Carmen cupped your jaw as he lifted the wooden spoonful of creamy, tomato soup to your mouth, thumbing your bottom lip gently so you could carefully swallow every last bit. He enjoyed feeding you, if he was being totally honest. Even if this had been upon your request. Making his girl happy with what he did best was nothing short of a blessing to him.
"Mmm," you hummed in amusement, swallowing before smiling contently and nodding your head. "'S great, Carmy. Fuckin' delicious."
Long days at work dealing with insensitive clientele and immature coworkers seemed to be so easily remedied by Carmen's cooking. You weren't sure if it was because it was him catering to you and loving you the one way he always knew how, or if the food was just that fucking amazing. Maybe a little bit if both.
"Yeah? Alright," he chuckled a bit, grabbing the ladle beside the pot and scooping the simple, yet beautifully crafted tomato soup into a ceramic bowl. He seemed to know exactly how you liked it, despite him asking you if you enjoyed it every. single. time.
You accepted the bowl with a sickly sweet smile on your face, giving Carmen a kiss on his clean shaven cheek to thank him for his gesture before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen counter. Carmen just stood with his arms crossed against his chest as he leaned against the dining table, candidly watching you enjoy the warm bowl of soup
"So," you slurped some of the soup as you paused, "I'm thinkin' of giving Syd that top we found the other day."
Thrifting had become of recent liking to you anD Carmen. Just shopping and mooching around Chicago in search of vintage pieces. Mostly to actually wear, but partly to collect or regift to fellow friends. Last time you two had a day off, you found a beautiful vintage button down. A white base with downward blue stripes with a finely stitched breast pocket containing a 'V' pattern. The cuffs were cinched perfectly. It was a little baggy, too, which you knew Sydney would love.
"Ooh, yeah. I, uh, I really liked that. I think she'd really love it," Carmen nodded, "You gonna get 'er somethin' else with it? Like, to pair with it? Or just the shirt?"
"I was gonna ask you to help me with that, actually," you pointed a finger to Carmen, turning away for just a moment to gently place the empty bowl and spoon into the kitchen sink.
Carmen always thought you had a good eye for other people's tastes. Not just in fashion. The world seemed unpredictable to Carmy. But you made it look so easy, so loving to just know what people wanted. He always wished he had that kind of understanding for people. But for now, he'd admire such a trait you had.
"Hm?"
"I remember she mentioned something about having all these cool tops n' jackets and such, but, like—hardly any nice pants other than those fuckin' jeans she loves."
"Mhm," he stepped closer to you and planted his hands on your shoulders. But you soon reached for them and planted them on your hips, earning a little upward curl of his lip.
"I know you loved those nice jeans like they were your babies 'till you had to sell them," you frowned, entangling your fingers in his messy, blonde curls while your other hand rested on the back of his neck.
"Fuck, I know. Really wish I didn't have to," he tried to let out a breathy laugh to compensate for the genuine disappointment.
Fuck, did he love those pants. Pants were the one piece of fashion Carmen didn't have to second guess himself on. From jeans to slacks, he knew how to pair every possible fabric. And he never knew how to flatter the upper half of his body, so he always wore those dammed white t-shirts.
Not that you were complaining.
Especially right now, the t-shirt highlighting his broad shoulders and exposing his thick arms plastered with sentimental tattoos you always loved. You began to run your hands up and down the exposed skin. He glanced down at your patterned touch, flattered.
"Yeah, yeah. Well, anyway, I need you to help me look for a nice pair of jeans for Sydney. Can y'do that for me, hun?"
Carmen nodded rapidly, his eyes drifting from your lips and back into your eyes. His thumbs rubbed intricate little circles of adoration into your thighs.
"Yeah, baby," he smiled. "This weekend, maybe? I can take a couple hours," tilting his head, he held your chin to pull your face just inches away from his own. Something about your tendencies to make the ones you loved happy with little surprises just warmed him.
"Mhm. That works," you sighed, planting a soft kiss on his lips before wrapping your arms around his neck.
Carmens immediate suggestion just struck something in you. Months ago, he would've thrown excuse after excuse (although valid) as to when he couldn't be available, but never when he could. You felt proud of him.
"You're so good to me, Carmen."
"Yeah?"
He was learning. He was loving.
"Mhm," you barred your bottom lip behind your teeth, giving Carmen's arms a squeeze. He exhaled sharply and wondered where this could've been going.
You drove him a little crazier than he ever liked to admit. A delicate hand reached away from your hip and up to your face. He thumbed your bottom lip, the reflection of the kitchen light shining against your mouth that was glossy with a mix of both of your salivas. Carmen gazed at you in awe, a little embarrassed when he realized how long he'd been staring.
"I—" he shrugged, struggling to find the words, "I'd do it all for you, baby."
Whispering back as he began to cave in, he leaned into your neck and placing an opened mouth kiss on the skin. The smell of your perfume and the natural scent of your body was so familiar to him. It distracted him enough to let his hands roam up and down your torso before repeating that same motion on your thighs.
"Want you t.." you swallowed, your eyes shutting harshly when when he sucked a bruising hickey onto your skin.
"Want me to what, sweet girl?" Carmen mumbled, the butterflies in your stomach raging when his teeth grazed against the spot. You gently anchored your hand into his hair and pulled him away from your neck so you could see him again.
"Want you to treat me tonight," you whispered as your hands travled up to his shoulders.
He wished you could be more specific. But with your pretty eyes, your kiss-swollen lips, your thighs spread against the cold marble counter as they spilled out of your cotton shorts, how could he tease you any longer?
"That I can do."
—
Carmens body seemed to loosen up and relax as his rough hand slid down lower on your back to grab at the waistband of your shorts. You practically melted to his touch. He kissed you again, smiling against your lips as you giggled into the kiss once he slid your shorts down to your ankles. You nodded when he pulled away, ensuring him that he was on the right track.
"Need you t'spread, baby," his hand pried between your soft thighs.
"O—okay," You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly spread your legs apart. The wet spot of arousal in the middle of your panties was completely in view now. Feeling Carmen's eyes drifting downward, you accidentally drew your knees closer together again.
"Hey," Carmen whispered while he looked into your eyes for an answer, despite your gaze being glued to the floor.
"You okay? We don't have to do thi—"
"No, no," you shook your head, "I want to. Just..not used to it. That's all."
It was true. You'd only tried oral about twice. And it went great, you couldn't deny. But you still struggled to literally open yourself up to him. You just needed a little encouragement.
"You don't have to hide, baby. You look—you are beautiful," he kissed your forehead, "so, so beautiful. Okay?"
Finally feeling some reassurance, you tried again. You spread your legs once again and let Carmen peel your soaked panties down your legs to where your shorts had been. He gave you one last look to see if you were ready, to which you happily nodded.
In the sweetest gesture, Carmen removed his own t-shirt so you wouldn't be alone. He unbuttoned his jeans and tossed them somewhere near the dining table, being left in just his boxers that outlined his slowly hardening cock.
"Thank you," you chuckled.
"Of course."
Carmen began trailing kisses from your neck down to your shoulder blade. His hands gently lifted your tank top over your head before cupping one of your breasts, his fingertips playing with your hard nipple as he kissed you one last time. He sank down to his knees, hooking your calves over his shoulders. You scooted a little closer to the edge of the counter to give him the best access to your throbbing cunt.
"Yep. Right here, baby."
He had you exactly where he wanted you.
You finally looked down at him after avoiding direct eye contact for the past few minutes. His blue eyes fully encapsulated you. He looked gorgeous between your thighs. Especially when he sucked little hickeys that wouldn't actually last against your inner thighs that made you squirm.
"You look pretty like this, bear," your hand reached to brush a loose curl out of his face. The flush that colored his pale cheeks was cute.
"You think so?" Carmen grinned. He relished in the feeling of having such gentle yet everlasting control. In his own kitchen, his beautiful girl in his hands, her thighs around his head, fully willing and wanting to let him take every part of her he could ever imagine.
You were nothing short of perfect to him.
Not wanting to waste any more time, and without preamble, he licked a bold stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit. Your breath hitched in your throat when his grip on your thighs tightened. He started to create a sense of rhythm, roughly sucking on the sensitive mound of nerve endings before soothing it with kitten licks and flat-tongued strides.
Your hand tugged at a handful of his curls. He groaned at the sensation, swirling his tongue around you to feel every fucking inch of your pussy.
"Fuck, Carmy..."
"You got the prettiest pussy, baby. So good and wet for me," he mumbled against you, his eyes still remaining closed. He needed to focus, or else he might fall apart at the sight of pure, filthy pleasure on your pretty face.
"Shut up—" you protested.
Your thighs began to shake as your head reeled back. Carmen hesitated for a moment, wiggling his fingers around anxiously before pulling his mouth away from your vulva and ever so carefully slipping in 2 large fingers.
A long, drawn out moan escaped your mouth the moment he curled his fingers upward into your g-spot. The idea of staying quiet was out of the fucking question. Oh, and now that Carmen's tongue was back on you? Forget it.
"Oh my fucking g—fuck!" you smacked your hand over your mouth, your other hand still entangled in your lovers hair. Pulling and tugging and earning the sexiest groans you'd ever heard in your life.
The sound of your voice slowly raising in pitch was enough for Carmen to change his pace. He inched himself even closer, and at an otherworldly speed flicked his tongue repeatedly against your clit. Over. And over. And over again. But his fingers slowed down to avoid overstimulating you. He needed this to last. Blissfully.
The knot in your stomach that indicated your teeter against your orgasm taunted you.
"Carm, I'm—" you took a short breath moaning incohereant babbles along the lines of 'so fuckin' good, just like that, baby' until you blurted, "I'm probably not gonna last any longer..'S too much."
You'd grown so desperate to cum that your hips ground back and forth, the tip of Carmens tongue perfectly brushing against your sensitive clit while he used the hand that was once fucking you to squeeze the fat of your breast. With his other hand, he reached down to palm his throbbing cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. He pulled his erection out from the cloth and stroked himself slowly, the final moan of "fuck," shortly followed by your name before he harshly sucked on your clit once more, was enough to throw you over the edge.
"Oh, fuck, Carmy!"
After the last couple minutes of him practically making out with your pussy, your body finally allowed itself to release, your legs shaking vigourisly as you tried desparately to catch your breath. You could literally feel a pulse-like sensation on your clit from the orgasm.
It was dirty, filthy; cumming on Carmen's pretty face right on top of his kitchen counter.
But fuck, was it hot.
—
"You think you got another one left in there for me, baby?" Carmen cooed, wrapping your legs around his hips and drawing you in so close that your breasts were pressed against his bare chest. He peppered kisses along your jaw until he resided on your lips, his tongue slipping in to create a sloppy, passionate mess of a kiss.
His clothed hard-on pressed against your clit, which was nearly fully recovered, lacking the overwhelming sensitivity it had just a couple minutes ago.
"Maybe you should find out," you teased against his ear, nipping at the skin of his neck right underneath. You gently pressed your hand against his chest, backing him up just the slightest bit so you could slip his pre-cum soaked boxers with ease.
Without another thought, Carmen carefully lined himself up with your pussy. The head of his dick passed between your folds to build anticipation. Your hands gripped his shoulders, slippery with sweat, once he finally began to push his raw cock into your hole, your arousal serving as a perfect lubricant.
"Fuck," he rasped as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy in awe "so fuckin' tight for me. So pretty n' perfect."
The two of you hardly waited to allow every thrust and slap of skin against skin get messy and rough. With Carmen desperately needing to cum and you anxiously needing to feel him inside of you, there wasn't much consideration for a slow fuck.
"Fuck me, Carmen."
With that, Carmen dug his hands into your hips and pulled several inches out of you before slamming back in. You somehow moaned louder every time. His face contorted to pure, ravenous pleasure and lust as moan and groan after groan writhed from his throat. Your nails clawed at his back, earning a "shit," and his teeth sinking into your shoulder as you ground back and forth against him to achieve the perfect thrusting angle.
"I love you," he whimpered, fucking whimpered his adoration for you. He was completely pussy drunk, his thrusts turning fast and short unlike they were when they started out.
Those words made your heart pound in your head. Sure, you'd exchanged 'I love you's' during the last year or so of your relationship, but you couldn't recall a time it was said during rough-kitchen-counter-sex.
"I love you so fuckin' much, Carm," you sobbed in a fit of utter horniness and overwhelming sense of pleasure, feeling Carmen's thick cock and squeezing your warm, gummy walls around him.
"I'm gonna cum, angel, I—"
"I know, baby. Go ahead. W-want you to fill me up."
Almost as if the universe had been working specifically in your favor, you managed to reach your orgasm just seconds before he did. Every drop of your arousal went down his thigh, while his cum perfectly filled up your cunt. He pulled out slowly watching the white and sticky semen drip down your hole.
"Was that your idea of me 'treating you' tonight?"
#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto smut#the bear smut#jeremy allen white#ugh i love him#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x reader smut#the bear x reader#i actually love how this turned out
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better late than never — kmg
♡ pairing: kim mingyu x afab!reader
♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], best friends to lovers, non-idol au
♡ wc: 2.7k
♡ warnings: size kink, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), riding, unprotected piv sex (stay safe y’all), creampie, mingyu is a boob guy, praise kink if u squint
♡ a/n: written for my bestie <3 and posting just in time for his birthday - happy mingyu day!!
knock-knock-knock-knock
“come on! let me in!!”
you approach your front door, but you don’t unlock it yet.
“what happened to the copy of my key i gave you?” you inquire to the voice on the other side.
“i forgot it!”
you turn the deadbolt, opening the door to reveal the man standing outside - the look on his face is sheepish as he stands there, arms full of grocery bags.
“kim mingyu i asked you to get me three things, not the entire store,” you say incredulously.
“i saw your fridge the other day. you literally only had cheese, beer, and a jar of pickles in there,” he retorts, shooting you a judgemental look.
“the three main food groups.”
mingyu rolls his eyes as he enters your apartment. “whatever, i'm cooking you dinner. a real dinner.”
“aye aye captain,” you say as you jokingly salute him.
you met mingyu freshman year of college, when he burst through the door of your dorm room - thinking it was his own (he was on the wrong floor). his eyes turned wide as saucers as he realized his mistake.
“SORRY,” he blurted out before fleeing out of the room. he was gone before you had even processed what happened.
the next day he returned - this time knocking first. you opened the door to see the tall man, holding two packs of ramen.
“sorry about yesterday,” he apologized, still a bit embarrassed. “i'm an idiot and thought i was on the sixth floor.”
“you're not an idiot, mistakes happen. it's okay,” you assured him amiably.
“thanks, i’m glad you’re not mad at me or anything,” he replied with a smile. he extended the ramen to you. “it’s not much but i just… felt like i should bring a gift for some reason?” he told you, looking like he was second guessing himself as the words came out of his mouth.
“ooo it’s the good kind too,” you replied eagerly as you took the ramen from him. “you wanna have one right now?”
he looked surprised, but delighted at your suggestion.
“actually that would be awesome, those were my last two,” he admits with a laugh. you grin back at him.
“well, come on in. again.”
–
and so mingyu inadvertently became your best friend. if not for the dorm incident, you probably never would have even crossed paths with him - he was your typical business bro, while you were majoring in psychology and literature. but, something just clicked between you two.
a handful of years later now, he’s still your closest friend. and here he is, in your kitchen, grabbing the appropriate pots, pans, and utensils to get started on his spaghetti carbonara. as independent of a person as you are, you're not particularly the best chef - so you're grateful for his culinary expertise and willingness to make food for you.
over dinner, mingyu is his usual chatty self. he tells you about his day, about how his neighbor has picked up the irritating hobby of learning to play the trumpet, about the dog he met yesterday while at the park, about his new coworker who seems to like him a little too much.
“well, is she cute?” you ask nonchalantly, swirling the wine in your glass.
“huh?” your question seems to catch him off guard. “i don't know. i mean, i've never thought about it.”
“bullshit,” you tell him, taking a big sip.
“it's true!”
“right. well think about it, is she?”
“she's conventionally attractive i guess. i don't know why it matters though,” he says sincerely.
“well if she likes you and she’s cute, you should ask her out.”
“that would be extremely unprofessional,” he scoffs, appalled at your suggestion. “besides, she's not my type.”
“what, is she weird or something?”
“no. and besides, i like weird. but i definitely don't see her like that.”
“what do you mean, you like weird?” you ask, raising your eyebrow.
“i mean, you’re weird. and i like you.” he says it matter-of-factly, as if he was telling you the grass is green.
“okay well obviously you don't want to date me,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “but come on, you haven't dated anyone in years. i'm trying to help to you here.”
the expression on his face changes, but you can't quite decipher what he’s thinking.
“i don't need help.”
you give him a weird look.
“not like that!” he quickly insists. “i just mean, don't worry about me, i’m fine.”
“ooookay, whatever you say gyu.”
his face remains calm, but you notice the corners of his mouth twitch upward slightly. normally, he’s not a fan of the nickname, but you know you're the only one who's allowed to call him that. he’s told you before.
“well, what about you?” he asks suddenly.
you look at him while chewing a big bite of pasta, confused. “what about me what?”
“are you, like… seeing anybody these days?”
he speaks timidly, as if treading on eggshells.
“why? are you asking me out?”
“ha ha, very funny,” he says sarcastically. he then shrugs. “i was just curious.”
“i actually did go on a date last week,” you admit. he looks up, surprised.
“really? how'd it go?”
“surprisingly, really good,” you tell him.
“that's good. you have a long history of terrible first dates.”
“it was a second date, actually.”
mingyu pauses. “and you didn't tell me about the first one? fake as hell.”
“oh shut the fuck up,” you tease back, grinning at him.
he picks up the bottle of wine sitting on the table. “should we finish this?” he asks.
“duh.”
he removes the cork, pouring you another glass before refilling his own.
after the delicious meal, you begin to clean up the kitchen, but mingyu quickly gets up and takes the dishes from your hands.
“i got it.”
“you did all the cooking, let me do it,” you tell him.
“nope,” he insists, already scrubbing plates.
you help anyway, but mingyu is fast. the kitchen is sparkling within ten minutes.
“damn, this looks better that it did before you got here,” you remark as you start the dishwasher.
“don't go on a third date.”
you freeze. you look back at mingyu - he's reclining against the kitchen counter. his face, sincere.
“what?” you ask hesitantly.
“i said, don't go on a third date.”
he rises, walking toward you. he stops inches away from you, extending his arms, leaning his palms on the counter on either side of you. his face hovers above yours, his warm eyes locked onto yours.
“gyu, are you drunk?” you ask, knowing full well he's not. your heart is suddenly pounding.
“i'm not.” he brings his hand up to your chin, tilting your face upwards. “can i kiss you?”
you’re stunned, standing motionless, breathing deeply as he strokes your jawline softly with his thumb. sure, you’d thought about the possibility of dating mingyu before. more than once, even. and you figured he’d probably thought about dating you before. but truly, you never thought he had serious feelings for you.
but here you are, pinned against your kitchen counter by your best friend. your best friend, who happens to be incredibly attractive. and the way your heart is racing - you really do want to kiss him right now.
you try to think logically, rationalizing whether this is a good decision, but the emotional part of your brain takes control. you kiss him. you kiss him - and he kisses you, and you stand there, in your best friend’s arms, kissing each other, as if you'd both been waiting for this moment for years. and deep down, you know you have been.
mingyu grabs hold of you, pulling you up onto the counter. you wrap your arms around his waist, running your hands slowly up and down his torso, feeling his toned body through his soft shirt. he caresses you gently, kissing you still - you're suspended in time, just the two of you, bodies connected like never before. you suddenly cannot believe you've spent years with this man and never once made out with him - but better late than never.
he softly brings his hands to your sides. your lips finally part - you instantly miss the sensation. he slides his hands under your shirt, pausing right before he reaches your breasts.
“can i touch them?” he asks, his voice breathy. you nod fervously. he caresses your over your bra, kissing you again as he squeezes your tits in his large hands. you inadvertently let out a soft moan. mingyu grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it off of you. he looks at you in awe.
“you're so perfect.”
he is utterly gushing and swooning over you right now. you feel your heart skip a beat.
you slip your hands under his shirt, running your hands over his abs and chest. he pulls his shirt off too, standing there before you. you've seen mingyu shirtless before, but not like this. his muscles are striking, perfectly sculpted - his golden, sunkissed skin glows beautifully. you feel a sudden, strong carnal urge to lick him, kiss him, bite him all over.
you look up at him - the look in his eyes reciprocating your desire. you hop off the counter, taking his hands in yours. you pull his arms, tugging him in the direction of your room. his cheeks turns flush as he realizes your intent - a roguish grin spreads across his face, revealing his pointy canines you’ve always loved.
mingyu wastes no time taking your pants off as you throw yourself onto the bed, reclining against the soft pillows. he gazes at you lustfully as you lay there in your lingerie, unzipping his pants and pulling them off as fast as humanly possible. you feel throbbing in your core at the sight of him standing there - his light gray underwear doing absolutely nothing to disguise the prominent erection underneath.
he crawls into bed, his body hovering above yours. you wrap your arms around his broad torso, pulling his large frame into yours as you begin to move your hips, grinding against his cock - the wet spot on your panties grows as you rub your cunt against him. it was clear from the moment he took his pants off that he is big, but feeling its length, its thickness, against your clothed pussy is making you clench around nothing - making you wish you were clenching around him instead.
mingyu gently grabs your arms, pinning them next to your head as he interlocks his fingers with yours. his lips lightly graze against yours.
“are you sure you want to do this?” he asks softly. you nod immediately.
“yeah.”
he buries his head into the crook of your neck, kissing you repeatedly. he gradually makes his way down your body, his hands moving to take your bra off, but he pauses.
“can i-”
“you can do whatever you want to me,” you interject.
you feel his cock twitch. “oh god, don't tell me that.”
he unclasps the hook, letting out a moan at the sight of your bare tits. immediately he takes your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud before taking it between his lips. he sucks on your tit like his life depends on it - his hand squeezing and pinching the other as his cock grinds against your core. you're gone already - a moaning mess, putty in his hands. he eventually switches sides, cool air hitting the wetness remaining on your nipple. you get the feeling mingyu could suck your tits forever.
he eventually moves on, planting kisses down your stomach as he situates himself between your legs. he kisses your inner thighs - slowly approaching your core, but not touching you just yet. you whimper as he finally touches his lips to your clit over your thoroughly wet underwear. he licks you slowly, his tongue running over the thin fabric several times before he slips his finger underneath, pulling your underwear aside, exposing your soaked core. he groans at the sight of it.
“fuck, just as pretty as i imagined.”
you part your lips to say something, but your words become lost - instantly replaced with cries of pleasure as he begins eating you out. you run your fingers through his hair, grasping onto it as he sucks repeatedly on your clit. he places a large hand on your belly, applying pressure, as he takes two fingers to your pussy, slipping them in with ease. you moan as he begins to fuck you, your hips beginning to buck.
“more,” you beg.
you cry out as he adds a third finger - your cunt has never felt so full, but you know this is nothing compared to how his cock would feel in you. he continues sucking your clit, heat rising in your lower stomach as you feel yourself nearing orgasm. you writhe in pleasure, screaming mingyu’s name as he makes you cum - and he makes you cum hard.
your head spins as you come down from your powerful high. as you catch your breath mingyu crawls back up, laying against you, his radiant body heat making your skin turn hot. he strokes your cheek, pressing his lips hungrily against yours once more.
“can you… will you ride me?”
your pussy throbs at the mere thought. wordlessly you nod. mingyu reaches down, sliding your panties off before discarding his own underwear. you gasp softly as his cock springs free. you reach down, taking hold of it - its size making your hand appear tiny in comparison. he leans his head back, sighing as you stroke his length, your palm becoming wet with his precum.
you give him a push, rolling over on top of him. his tip grazes your wet cunt as you straddle him, his eyes locked onto yours intensely. you sit up, taking his cock in your hand, rubbing it against your folds a few times, before finally slipping it inside. you slowly lower yourself onto it, whining softly as its thickness stretches you. mingyu groans as you bottom out, sitting entirely on his cock. you haven’t even moved yet, but his breathing is heavy, inhaling deeply as he reaches up to grab onto your breasts. you begin to ride him, slowly moving your hips up and down, his cock filling you up beyond anything you could’ve imagined. you gradually increase your pace, both of you moaning at the overwhelming sensation, until you are fully bouncing on his cock, your palms resting against his muscular chest to steady yourself as you unravel over him.
mingyu begins to whimper. “you’re so fucking hot,” he utters between heavy breaths. “you’re gonna make me cum.”
you ride him relentlessly, crying out at how good he feels inside you. his eyes close as he releases, thrusting his hips powerfully as he cums in your pussy - the warmth of his cum filling you up. your pace slows, riding him gently as he finishes, his moans tapering off as he begins to come down. you settle onto his cock, laying on him as you kiss him. he kisses you back lovingly, one hand running through your hair, the other caressing the small of your back. you lay there for a while, his chest rising up and down as he breathes deeply. your heartbeat slows, pounding heavily in your chest as you recover.
slowly, he finally pulls out. you roll to his side, wrapping your arms around him in a warm embrace, squeezing him with all your might. he giggles.
“mingyu?” you ask softly after several moments of silence.
“hm?”
“you should’ve told me sooner.”
he sighs. “i wanted to - many times. but i didn’t want to risk our friendship. i didn’t think you felt the same way.”
“i think… i think i’ve always loved you. i just never realized it.”
mingyu smiles. he gives you a kiss on the forehead.
“so… what does this mean? for us,” he asks you.
you look up - his warm eyes are fixated on you, optimistic, awaiting your answer.
“well, i really don’t think anything is going to change.” a nervous look washes over his face - you quickly add, “except that we fuck now and also i want you to be my boyfriend.”
he closes his eyes, letting out a laugh. he pulls you closer into his embrace.
“i like the sound of that.”
–
#ren's fics ੈ♡₊˚•.#kim mingyu#mingyu smut#mingyu fics#mingyu scenarios#mingyu imagines#svt fics#svt smut#svt imagines#svt scenarios#seventeen smut#seventeen fics#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#mingyu x reader#svt x reader#seventeen x reader
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"Oh, hello, Vogue!"
pairing: Tom Blyth x actress!reader.
summary: invited by Vogue, you and Tom participate in a famous panel about answering quick questions.
word count: 1.323!
notes: here it is! i focused all day, without drama, on this writing and finished it minutes ago. — enjoy!
"We're, like, Patrick and Kat!" — Tom nodded in agreement, looking and paying attention to your words and almost forgetting that you were being recorded. — "Anakin and Padmé?" — You wrinkled your nose gracefully.
"Lady and the Tramp?" — He suggested, smiling tenderly and was won over by your laugh and a long touch on his arm made by you.
"Oh my god, yes!"
"Hi, Vogue!" — In a gesture of introducing yourself, you waved to the camera in front of you accompanied by an inviting and friendly smile. — "I'm Y/N."
"And I'm Tom Blyth." — Tom introduced himself to the camera and future viewers. — "… and we are about to play Off the Cuff." — He moved the small cards, which contained countless and random questions, and directed his eyes to you.
"Uh, a great entrance!" — You crossed your legs, making yourself comfortable on the chain, and held out the small cards as your eyebrows arched at Tom.
"Thank you, my dear." — He winked at you and took, carefully and planning a bit of suspense, one of the white cards; the topics were random, they could be about TBOSAS, behind the scenes or something related to your relationship. — Everything was a mystery. — "What was the last song you listened to?"
"Hm…" — You rested one of your hands on your chin, trying to fake a thoughtful image. — "A song, which is still unknown to me, that you hummed in the morning." — Your laugh was registered and echoed throughout the room, and Tom was amused when he remembered what happened. — "I should have recorded it!"
"It was a little chorus, and it stuck in my head." — He explained, placing the small card in a reserved place next to him. — "I don't remember the name of the song, but it must be saved on my phone" — His eyes fell on you again. — "Then i can sing for you again." — Tom uttered with melody and his lips curving in a shy smile.
"So adorable and romantic" — You tilted your head, with a pleasant and welcoming smile, at your boyfriend finding your words cute. — "Oh, i think i know the answer to that, what is an item you never leave the house without?" — Your hands shook the small card, waiting for your boyfriend's response.
"You definitely know the answer!" — Tom stated in slurred words accompanied by a laugh. — "In New York, the key to my motorcycle and i have it all the time." — His chin bowed a little. — "And maybe, in the future, in your bag."
"One day i'll ride it, you can be sure." — One of the cameras focused on her face, capturing her words, or rather, a promise that you would love to keep one day.
"And i'll be there, my love." — Blyth took another card. — "Among all the characters' looks in the film, which one would you wear?"
"Definitely, all the looks worn by Tigris." — You moved your hands. — "In addition to being beautiful, they seem to be so comfortable, especially the one where she talks to Coriolanus after he tells her about Lucy Gray." — The image of the aforementioned scene was then shown in the video with editing. — "Hunter looks so beautiful in them."
"Definitely." — He agreed
"With all the sets and locations in the film, which one was your favorite?" — Another card was discarded by you. — "Tell us!" — His voice sounded curious and excited by the older man's response.
"Hm, i loved recording them all." — Tom turned his eyes to an invisible fixed point. — "But, i think i choose the cabin." — His attention returned to you. — "Even with those mosquitoes and little bugs that i've never seen in my life."
"You were scared of most." — Your laughs came in sync.
"It was impossible not to be scared!" — Tom added. — "There was one that almost got into my shirt and another in the river." — Taking another card, Tom read the words written on it and continued with a peculiar and curious expression. — "Name one unforgettable thing i've ever done for you." — The question came out slowly, delicately and with a touch of enthusiasm; and several moments, memories flashed in his mind. — "I'm excited for this."
"My god, it's impossible to give just one answer." — A slightly euphoric and nervous question left your lips, and you laughed nervously as you tried to think and choose just one of the moments and deeds that Tom has done for you. — "It's so hard to choose one." — And it wasn't exaggeration or drama.
"You don't have to think so much, darling." — Tom's voice calmed your mind so tight and focused on the answer; nervousness was visible on your face. — "I see the gears in your head locking up." — He joked, trying to relax you and leaving the cards in his lap and resting one of his hands on your leg.
Finally, something landed in your mind; It was completely automatic. — Like a lamp being turned on when touched.
"Well, it's recent, but, it's stuck in my head!" — You started. — "Ah, during the L.A premiere and you were wearing a pendant necklace and there was my initial." — The way you responded was sweet, soft and passionate in front of the camera lenses and people in the room. — "And i was speechless, just admiring that little piece and feeling like the most loved person in the world." — You sighed, with your eyes shining against the oldest's blue orbs.
"In my world, you're." — Tom confessed, looking directly into his eyes and his hand still remained on his leg. — "It was a surprise and i was so excited that i wanted to show it to you ahead of time." — That tall, young British man smiled with passion, which burned in his chest and had no embarrassment in showing it.
"A secret that no one knows and can now be revealed?" —Another slightly peculiar question.
"I have a photo, actually, a polaroid in my wallet." — Tom ran his hands through the pockets of his pants, looking for what he had mentioned, but, from his disappointed frown, the object was not present. — "It's not here, so it must be in your bag."
"100% chance." — Your head nodded, nodding in confirmation. — "Which photo is it?" — You asked, curious and wanting to see her later.
"One of the ones Rachel took backstage and it quickly became one of my favorites." — Without specification, several photos scrolled through your head. — "It was in the forest, and you were wearing a helmet, that of Coriolanus, of peacekeeper." — Oh, that!
"I think I even posted it on Instagram!" — Either it was still in your gallery, with a favorite star next to it, or, actually, in your feed. — "She's so adorable, i had her as the wallpaper on my phone for a long time."
"Now, that one I know very well." — Your boyfriend looked at the card between his fingers and then at you. — "A song that reminds me." — Tom bit his lip, vibrant and with the answer on the tip of his tongue.
"Definitely Daylight by Taylor Swift." — You pointed your index finger in his direction, thinking about more songs or explaining why you chose her. — "It's impressive how you manage to fit so well into almost all of her songs.
"And in all of our playlists, you always, always add this song." — He wasn't lying. — "I'm sure it'll be in my Spotify retrospective."
"Oh, and also that line." — You sat down in the chair again. — "In a world of boys, he's a gentleman." — Tom's ears, and those of some people behind the cameras, were witnesses to your quick and small singing; a lyric, which was also from Taylor, where fans marked it and made a point of putting it in each of his edits. — They've already shared it with you in your DM and you've already saved some videos. — "There are so many songs, i can't choose just one."
"Perfect." — Tom murmured, as his deeply, crystal clear irises admired and contemplated you.
#tom blyth#tom blyth x reader#coriolanus snow#coriolanus#snow#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus fanfiction#coriolanus imagine#the hunger games#the hunger games x reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#ballad of songbirds and snakes
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Dinner with the mobster | Bucky Barnes
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Mob!Single!Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> Your boss - who is also the most feared man in town - asks you to go out for dinner with him. When he suggests to take his daughter with him, you agree to go out with them.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 2.295
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> (G) none, just fluff
𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 -> Hi I absolutely love your work. I was wondering if you could write a mob boss! Single dad!Bucky Barnes x reader. Feel free to ignore if it makes you uncomfortable. Thank you 🤎🤎
𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you so much for your nice words, they really mean a lot and thank you for the sweet request. I wanted to write more for Mob!Bucky and your request was the perfect opportunity to do so. I hope you like what I made with it.🩷🩷 Divider made by @firefly-graphics.
𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 -> AFG Fluff Bingo | Row Two-One | First Date | @anyfandomfluffbingo
Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist
James Buchanan Barnes, the most popular mobster in town, has at least one hundred men who are protecting him and another one hundred men as well as women who clean his house, cook for him, or do other chores. His house - his villa - near the forest is almost not even in town anymore. The man could have every woman, and almost every woman admires him. He has long brown hair, mostly tied into a bun; his beard is trimmed; he has ocean blue eyes; and he has a smile that could light up the darkest night. James has a muscular body, is tall, and is just the dream of every woman. But even though he could have it all, he lives with his daughter alone. But he has an eye on someone, someone who doesn’t look really interested in him, which slightly confuses him but makes her more interesting for the mobster.
“Daddy, look what I found,” his princess says with a proud smile, holding up a book in her hands.
He furrows his eyebrows, his legs spread, while he sits on his couch and waits for the woman he asked to come into his office. In his hand, he holds a glass of his favorite Bourbon while he looks at his daughter. She walks closer to him, pushing herself up to sit on his lap before she holds the book closer to his face. James reads the title on it and smirks.
“That’s the book your friends - my employees - wrote into, isn’t it?” he asks with a smirk.
He told all his closest employees to write into the book after his princess was sad about having just four people - next to her - written into it. Those people were James, Sam, Steve, and Natasha. And then she asked her daddy if he knew if some more who wanted to write into it. Of course she also has friends, but the little girl prefers the big men around her, commanding them around like her daddy does, and he enjoys seeing his well-working education.
“Do you wanna see it?” she asks, kissing her daddy’s cheek softly.
The small girl looks like James - just the smaller, female version - but she has the same brown hair, ocean blue eyes, and the same smirk and pout on her lips as her daddy.
“But just until Y/N is here,” James says, and he turns his daughter around.
With his hands wrapped around her tummy, he looks over her shoulder. Her small back is pressed against his broad chest. Then she opens the book and waits for her daddy to start reading. James does, and his princess is always telling him something about the pictures before he can turn to the next side.
After a few minutes, it knocks at the door, and he looks up to see you standing there, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. You play with your fingers, looking down, while you just stand there and wait for James to give you instructions.
“I- I can- I’m sorry for distracting you,” you mumble when your nervousness grows.
“No, it’s fine. I asked you to come here, so please come in,” he says with his rough voice, and you shiver slightly.
When you met him for the first time, he was scary, and being so close to such a dangerous man can still be scary, but he is all soft and sweet around you and makes you feel like you are special to him. Little do you know you’re special to him, and he would buy the whole town, the moon, or the whole universe for you just to see your smile and hear you laughing while he is the reason for it.
James leans closer to his daughter, kissing her cheek before he lifts her off his lap and places her in front of him.
“Tell Uncle Stevie he has to give you some cookies,” James says, laughing when he sees his daughter jumping around with a giggle before she runs out of the room.
His ocean blue eyes then meet you again, and he gets off the couch as well. James walks closer to the door, gripping the doorknob while he waits for you to walk into the room to close the door behind you. It makes you a bit uncomfortable to be all alone with him in a room, but you know you’re safe.
“Wanna drink something, Bourbon? It’s a good one, my favorite bourbon.”
“N-no, thank you. I- Uhm- I’m fine, really,” you mumble.
You could face palm yourself when you realize what you just said. He didn’t want to know more, just if you wanted to have a drink. You inhale deeply while he leads you to the couch. When the two of you are taking a seat, he smiles and turns his head toward you.
“Do you have any plans for tonight?”
“N-no. I can take care of your daughter when you have plans for tonight.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” he laughs softly and takes a sip of his bourbon. “More like, do you have time to go out with me?”
Your mouth drops open, and you swallow hard, rubbing your palms over your pants to dry the sweat.
“I- You’re my boss, James,” you say quietly, turning your head away.
He chuckles softly and slides his hand to your back, stroking it softly while he takes another sip of his bourbon. The shiver along your spine makes him grin even more, and the way your body reacts to his touch lets him admire you even more.
“I’m not asking you, actually. Babydoll, let me take you out, please.”
“I-I don’t want to overstep boundaries. I- James, I should go back to my room,” you mumble.
Bucky chuckles; the way his body vibrates against yours sent another shiver along your spine. His thumb moves closer to your lips before he slides it over them, making you gasp. Your boss is so close, you can feel his hot breath on your skin; his touches are like electricity, causing more goosebumps all over your skin. Bucky leans closer, his lips almost touching your ear, inhaling your scent before he kisses your earlobe.
“How about we take Mia with us? You love her, and she loves you.”
None of the two of you mentioned that there are feelings between you and Bucky. You nod softly, but he sees it and smiles, kissing your earlobe again. Then he pulls away.
“I will pick you up in an hour,” he says, getting up, and you follow.
The two of you walk to the door. He opens it and runs his fingers over your back before you walk out of the room and to yours to change into something better to go out with your boss.
Like he told you, he is knocking at your door an hour later, wearing a suit - like always - his cologne all around you, and you smile softly when you look into his beautiful face. His brown hair is tied back, and he holds the tiny hand of his daughter. She is smiling at you as well as her daddy, both admiring you in your dress. Bucky in another way as the girl, but they both can’t get their eyes off of you. Bucky clears his throat and takes a step to the side, letting you walk out of the room.
“You look beautiful, doll.”
You blush, scratching the back of your neck.
“Daddy said we gonna go to my favorite restaurant,” she tells you with a proud smile.
You’re still not pretty sure what to say or how to act since your boss has invited you to go out with him. So you smile nicely and walk with him and Mia to the cars in the garage.
Bucky is a gentleman, opening the door for you, making sure you’re comfortable, but always taking care of his daughter too.
When you arrive at the restaurant, he takes your hand in his, stroking his thumb over the back of your hand. He makes sure you’re comfortable; otherwise, he would immediately let go of your hand. But there is not even a hint of discomfort on your face, just a small smile on your lips. Together with you and Mia, he walks to the entrance, letting the two of you walk into it before he follows you.
“Good evening,” the waiter says, his muscles tensing when he sees Bucky.
“Good evening, a table for three by the name of Barnes.”
The man in front of Bucky nods and shows you the table. You’re helping Mia out of her jacket and talking to her while you walk through the restaurant. The eyes of the people widen when they see James walking with his daughter and a woman through the room. He smirks when he offers you a seat, takes your and Mia’s jackets out of your hands, and sits across from you, smiling widely with his steel blue eyes piercing into yours. His tattoo-covered arms rest with the sleeves slightly up and his arms on the table, and he just admires you while you look between Mia and him with a small smile.
“Good evening. Have you already decided what you like to eat?” a woman asks, her smile shy, and her eyes dart from Bucky to you and back to the muscular man.
“As always, for my daughter and for me,” he says, then turns his face to you and smiles softly. “And you, doll?”
A shiver rushes through your body, and butterflies go crazy in your belly when he calls you by that nickname in front of other people. Then you look at the waitress and order your food as well. She just nods, takes the menus, and walks back to the kitchen.
“Y/N?” Mia asks, her hand touching yours.
“Yes?”
“Do you like daddy?”
You almost choke on your own saliva when she asks that. Of course you do; who doesn’t? He is a gentle and soft man; he is beautiful, muscular, and makes you laugh. You feel safe with him, not just because there are always some of his men around, but just because of him. On the other hand, he doesn’t act in a soft way with others like you always thought, which makes the feelings you have for him stronger. Bucky doesn’t say anything to the question; he just smirks and waits for you to answer, wanting to know what you think about him.
“I-I- He is nice, but he is my boss,” you mumble.
“But you like him?”
“Yes, but I like you too, Mia.”
“So do you want to be my new mommy?”
This question caught you off guard, and your jaw drops immediately. Bucky chuckles are low and rough, causing your skin to tingle. He makes you feel things you never thought you would feel, especially not for him. The most fearful man in town, a mobster. But also your boss, a wonderful and sweet man and daddy of a beautiful and cute daughter.
“Say yes, and I’m gonna make you mine tonight,” he says.
Your breath hitches, your body shakes softly in anticipation, and you nod. Do you want it? Want to be his? Of course, you definitely want to be his.
“Y-yes.”
Mia smirks, ready to throw herself around your neck, but the food arrives at your table and she learned manners from her daddy, so she just squirms a bit in her seat but starts eating and smirks the whole time at you. Your cheeks are red, and you fix the plate with food in front of you instead of facing Bucky. What if he just wanted to know what you feel for him, but he just wants to play with you? But he is just so soft with you and not with any other woman around him.
“Doll?” his rough voice interrupts your thoughts, and you look at him. “Please let me make you mine. I know the way you look at me, and you’re the only woman I want to have. I have loved you since we first met.”
“O-Oke. B-But I can’t work for you then. H-How can I pay for my things?”
“You don’t have to pay anything. Don’t forget who you’re talking to; you will get everything you need, and you just need to ask me,” he tells you with the softest smile you have ever seen.
When you nod again, his eyes light up, and he can’t help but get up to walk around the table. He gets on his knees next to you, capturing your cheeks with his big hands before he leans closer and presses his soft, plumb lips on yours. Kissing you in a way no one has ever kissed you before, so filled with love and passion. When you kiss him back, he smirks, pulling you even closer, and your hands grip his shoulder, your fingers sliding along his neck. Mia cheers quietly, giggling and looking at the two of you in awe while he bits into her nugget. You blush when Bucky leans back, his thumb stroking your lips, and his blue eyes say more than words could ever say.
“I love you, doll. My precious doll.”
“I-I love you, too.”
“Andddddd I love you. And my nuggies,” Mia says, holding her nugget up to show it.
“Yeah. We love you too, little girl,” Bucky laughs and kisses you again, then he gets up and takes his seat again to finish eating.
Your cheeks are still red, especially when you recognize that everyone in the restaurant was looking at the two of you. But when you look at Bucky, every fear fades away, and you feel just loved by him.
┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓
𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨
𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬
┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛
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