#you are ridiculous and i adore you ridiculously
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könig with a reader who has smaller breasts.
tw/cw; afab!f!reader, nipple play, blowjobs, mention of possessiveness. MDNI 18+
könig has an obsession with your titties. he teases you for being so insecure and doesn't understand the issue with the size of them. he pins your hands to your sides forcefully, forcing you to allow könig to admire and compliment them.
he loves coming all over them, globs of his creamy arousal dripping from the head of his thick, large cock during a blowjob. he adores the cock drunk look plastered on your ridiculous face, your nipples stiff and coated in a layer of his milky, hot pleasure.
“such a pretty girl. you look gorgeous with my cock down your throat, my cum spread across your titties... so small, could fit them in my entire palm.”
he can barely keep his dirty hands to himself. he'll slide his large and calloused hands beneath your t-shirt during mundane tasks to excite his beloved, his scarred and rough fingers playing with your nipples causing a whimper to flow from your lips, twisting them teasingly. he finds enjoyment from inflicting pain onto your hard nubs, squeezing them with his fingers while you squirm weakly against him.
könig can barely keep his eyes off of you. his perverted and gross gaze wanders, especially around your chest. it feels as if you're riling him up when you wear a bra around him, or a skimpy bikini. he'll beg you through guttural growls and grumbles, pleading with you to let him wrap his lips around your nubs, even if you're in public at a beach. he's desperate to suckle on them, to hold you down and roll his tongue over your nipples for hours on end ‘til he's had his fill.
there's nothing könig enjoys more than when you're riding his dick, your small breasts bouncing slightly in his face. he'll play with them with a grin spread across his face, rolling his thumbs around them, chuckling quietly at your sensitivity. he'll suck on them while you weakly and pathetically attempt to grind your hips down onto him, his bulbous cock stuffing your gummy, tight cunt full and causing tears to brim in your waterline, your eyelids glistening at the ache and pleasure burning between your soft thighs.
“that’s right, mäusi... keep rollin’ your hips, just like that. so tight, i can feel you squeezing my dick, engel.”
#orla speaks#konig cod#konig call of duty#könig call of duty#könig cod#konig modern warfare#konig smut#könig x reader#könig x you#konig x reader#konig x you#könig x fem reader#konig x reader smut#cod konig#konig#könig fanfiction#könig
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Mi Dulce Cereza
Ranchero! Miguel O'Hara x Reader
Synopsis: Revenge's path is never an easy feat. Not when love for the enemy and other feelings get in the way. Would it rise and come out as a victor? Or would it succumb to the sweetest of beings?
WARNING: Novela level drama, Toxic relationships, character introduction, mild and brief sexual tension, No use of YN, Family feud, scheming, disingenuous behaviors. No proofread
Summary: Miguel's revenge is set into motion.
A/N: Centuries later, here it is <3, hope you enjoy this new version! So nervous about this jskjs. Thanks to my beta reader @oharasmommymilkers00 for the help <3
"Ma!"
The ten-year-old boy called, desperate as he searched and scourged the house he lived in, to eventually find her mother in his younger brother's room.
Ravenous and long curls adorned her back. Brown beautiful eyes stared with adoration at the little six-year-old boy, carefully tucked in her arms as she combed her child's wavy strands away from his innocent face.
"Ma!" the boy called a bit more urgent as he tugged on her skirt, earning him a hushed grunt from her.
"Gabriel está durmiendo, Miguel!" (Gabriel is sleeping)
"No, Ma! Debes venir a la entrada! Hay gente buscando a George!" (You gotta come to the door! There's people looking for George!)
Conchata quickly put Gabriel into his crib and darted to the entrance. Panic and bile rose in her insides.
The banging on the feeble and rusty metal doors alarmed Conchata the more she approached the main hacienda's door.
Much to her and Miguel's surprise a group of men, awaited outside. Dressed in the blue and white colors proper of a Santa Margarita's Town police officer.
Miguel's eyes wandered over the guns that nested on the men's hips as they rode their horses haughtily. But paid special attention to the man leading them.
Hardened and weathered face, partially obscured by his camel brown Stetson hat, dressed up sharply, letting his belt and the overall imposing aura to do the talk for him, same as his horse and everything that donned his body. His eyes narrowed as soon as he saw Conchata.
"Miss Stone. I believe it's the third time I ask for you to leave" He acknowledged sternly.
A surname that made Miguel's churn in utter discomfort, but his mother always told him to give that name to strangers, since the O'Hara was only for the family. But even that one didn't sit right in his heart either. Not when the provider of such surname had been long gone from their lives, with no intention of returning.
And the men before his home were everything but familiar, strangers at best. Invaders. Trespassers with a penchant for intimidation as they were all armed to the teeth.
"The hell you want?!" Conchata crossed her arms and returned the steely glare the handsome and powerful man gave her.
His mother's bravado was certainly something Miguel could look up, despite the woman not being her best title of mother with him. But her bravery made him courageous.
"For you to leave my property."
"What are you talking about?! This is not your property, Anderton!"
A man like Pastor William was hard to ignore, not when power and influences oozed from him by merely existing.
"It is. You're living in Edenton's. Half the area is mine now."
"I have my property papers! This is outright ridiculous!" Conchata huffed as she sent Miguel to to get them.
"My lawyer is here. So we can have this settled once for all."
"There is nothing to settle!, I told your people I wouldn't sell my home and now you're acting far from someone that believes in God to get it!, maldita rata!" (fucking rat)
William narrowed his eyes at the last words that spilled with venom from Conchata's plump lips. He wasn't a man to give easily into anger, but his patience wasn't something to be tested either.
He had bought a good chunk of Edenton's territory and much to Conchata's dismay her home was right in the middle of said property.
The boy wasted no time into retrieving her mother's proofs of ownership as she opened the door to see the man that ground her nerves in seconds. Face to face.
And when the policeman and lawyer took a brief look at them, they could only snort in derision upon reading them.
"Not only are they outdated, but the important signatures are missing. This is fake."
Conchata paled, and she clutched her chest. Her heart pounded so hard she had to grab Miguel's lanky arm to support herself. Everything was slowly falling apart.
"Ma?"
Her boy looked up at her, concern plastered over his young yet understanding face
"T-That cannot be! George left it all arranged before leaving!"
"He didn't. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."
William gave the papers to his lawyer as he climbed off the horse and Conchata immediately tried to get them back, but tore them im the process
"No! No! That's not true! My papers " She shrieked and the police officer intervened as soon as she tried to go for Anderton's lawyer.
"Stop! " Miguel was held back after kicking the officer's shin.
Conchata freed herself from the guard's grip, only to deliver a hard slap on William's face.
"La vas a pagar caro cabrón! A mi nadie me sacará de mi casa!" (You'll pay for this. None kicks me out of my home!)
The officers held Conchata back and Miguel, since the boy attempted to defend the remnants of his mother's dignity. But there was little they could do.
Conchata's land was prosperous, and so far it provided a good income to live rather peacefully and away from the rest. Until now.
William was rather strict and apprehensive about his properties. He owed half the town, and for Conchata to live there, right in the spot he wanted to build his home for his new family, rendered nothing but a black and ugly spot to his future dream.
Buthe would erase it. And if he needed to get over the law, to get it, he would. Influences had their perks. And these worked to his favor without a hitch.
"I'll give you three days for you to pack it up 'n leave."
"Three days?! Where am I going to find a place to live? My children... I can't leave-"
"I'm sure the local shelters will take you in gladly. Be grateful I got you time."
William seethed with his usual calm, sending shivers down Miguel's spine, as the boy held onto his mother's skirt.
The men turned around in their horses and soon began galloping away, but William got up on the beast back, remaining high and proud. Looking down at him.
For a man to make Conchata to clutch and hold on to him so protectively, meant she had no power at all. That she had been defeated. Something his childish brain thought impossible.
It reminded him the ways she sometimes protected him and Gabriel from George in his usual drunk fits.
That day, Pastor William Anderton remained forever engraved in Miguel's core memories and in his heart's growing rage.
Resentment wasn't often a feeling a boy so young like him should experience. But there he was, memorizing every dip, pore and soft wrinkle from the man's features so his heart and mind wouldn't forget him.
So he wouldn't forget who had been the monster that forced his family to leave and abandon everything he had known so far.
Miguel O'Hara had no longer a home.
But if there was something William had forgotten, was to never scorn a woman. Much less one with a fiery temper and a heart full of fresh wounds.
He had doused her wounded heart in salt, rubbed with it and then tossed it to the fire. To let it break and burn to ashes.
William hadn't shown mercy, despite the word coming from his mouth every Sunday in his church as part of his speech to the masses.
But Conchata's mind was already turning and plotting.
----
Miguel's upbringing was everything but easy, but that didn't stop him from achieving whatever goals he proposed.
Shelters and rental homes were left behind, and soon he earned a scholarship into a college, earning him a degree and masters in agronomy and large-scale management.
Gabriel in the meantime helped Conchata around the house. Having little side hustles for himself.
But as he grew up, so did his hatred for the Andertons. It didn't help that Conchata threw more dry hatred bones to the vengeful fire with her bitter tells. She always boasted on whatever little thing the Andertons did with spite and hatred in her heart.
William's face remained intact in Miguel's brain. Ever hardened and cruel, impassive to anyone else's suffering. Indifferent to his mother's pleas.
The day they left everything they knew, scarred him to this very day. Miguel sworn to one day, he'd owe his own estate, full of everything he always wanted.
He wouldn't have to sojourn through shelters and temporary homes ever again, having a hard time sleeping because of his mother's safety. He wouldn't have to look down in fear and shame when people that breathed and exhaled money, talked to him.
He wouldn't have to see his mother, shitty as she was sometimes, breaking down for not having for the most basic of needs. And he definitely wouldn't let himself to be trampled all over again by anyone. Not rich, nor poor.
Now, with a master's degree in his pocket, a new project rose in his mind. Train and rehab horses professionally. An emerging and blooming business within Santa Margarita.
Everything out of hearing that William entered a new venture. Purebred horses.
Of course a man like him had to be in the mouth of every people in town.
William ran the biggest church in the city, had multiple successful and clean business thanks to his estate, Cherryville. And now, the horses.
A novelty in town. He'd often see through the newspaper images of William and his wife, Rosaura, telling how wonderful and valuable they were for the community, and how much their philanthropic tendencies helped those in need. The man was rotting money after all.
Oh, the irony. Miguel sometimes wondered if William did it out of genuine vocation, cause he had to give the man some credit for keeping a saint facade in front of the rest for so long. He was doing it go hard or go home.
If people only knew the scum he is.
If everyone truly knew who Pastor William J. Anderton was, none would spare him a glance. None would look at his way twice to spare him some kind words. Everyone would shun him and mark him a fraud. His world would collapse. Something Miguel needed to achieve.
The purebred training horse's business opened his contact list, and with his smarts and the follow of his intuition, it took him a couple of years to get him in the map of those that were in dire need of help and could afford it.
Cause if he could exploit the rich, he wouldn't waste the chance of earning good money. Not when his personal estate was under construction and renovations, away in it's own heaven, outside Santa Margarita.
He stopped introducing himself as Miguel Stone long ago. He didn't want anything to do with that surname that stirred nothing but hatred and suffocating anger, towards the man that harmed his little and already broken family even more. And the O'Hara had earned him a bit of reputation.
A credible and respectful renown to meet people that gave him the chance to not only learn from the best horse trainers, but gave him the chance to apply everything he knew. Adding even more value to his resume.
Gabriel also graduated college, following Miguel's steps. Although the latter was more inclined to production than management. He was a more practical man than the over thinker of his brother.
Together they made a phenomenal duo, but when separated, months could pass before they saw eachother again.
But with Miguel's plan running, Gabriel promised him to remain close and available as possible to see it through.
In fact, William sought him out himself to ask him if he could train his horses and took full on responsibility of his farm.
-----
He was ready to set his plan into motion. None other than his number one enemy had hired him.
Miguel's body buzzed with a mix of anxiety and excitement. Being the best to get hired was scratched off his list.
Soon all the hatred festering in his heart to the man that destroyed his childhood and family, would come to fruition. But there was a remaining distraction.
Dana.
"Remind me again, why are you going to a farm to be exploited and mistreated by rich people?"
The soft voice behind him echoed in his room. Miguel sat naked on the bed, as the short-haired brunette with blue eyes hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek and neck.
"Gotta make it as believable as possible if I want to expose the Andertons."
Dana just hummed, seeing him so determined and focused into getting this family feud, settled once and for all, amused her to no end.
Dana rolled her eyes while resting her chin on his sharp and well worked shoulder, "But no need to be so serious."
It was Miguel's turn to roll his eyes and stand up, reaching his underwear in tandem.
"Don't be cold, Miggy. I just wanna see you again, once you're victorious, so we can keep celebrating"
Miguel chuckled with derision as he took a towel and wrapped it up loosely against his waist.
"I'm good, thanks. And there's no we in this."
"Are you sure? I mean, I spread word around on you and look at you now. The best trainer. I'd say I'm also part of this too"
Her voice irked sometimes whenever it got like this. Sickly sweet and full of lies. Even more when she purred nothing but half truths.
In truth, he had met Dana for the past six months, all thanks to Gabriel that suggested her as a contact link to those he wanted to get at. Filthy and obscenely rich people that needed someone to help them out with their properties as soon as possible, to salvage them out of sentimentalism.
Even though the initial chemistry was undeniable, it had worn out thanks to her insufferable and possessive attitude. And no matter how many times he'd tell her a plain and outright No, she kept insisting. She was the one that always returned and always ended up in his bed.
"Yeah, no. Look, I don't want you snooping around. And I mean it."
The only that believed that they were something. Sure, Dana served his purpose to keep those physical urges away, but other than that, there was nothing substantial about her he could say he was attracted to, besides her contacts.
Dana's hands tried to reach him, but Miguel stepped away from her touch, recoiling with haste and heading for the shower.
"If you ruin this for me, I swear, We'll have problems."
More than they already did? Impossible.
Dana just laughed, "Don't be mean, you gotta reward me one way or another for your clientele."
"Dios mio... Con qué loca me vine a enredar" (My God, what a crazy woman I came to get involved with)
He mumbled while stepping into the shower.
"I'll see you soon, baby." Her giggles had his eyes rolling with annoyance and his shoulders squaring.
He'd leave in a couple of hours, to start what his whole self had been preparing for years. Soon the Andertons would know him.
----
Returning to the place he grew up had his stomach in a tight and anxious knot, tighter than a hair's tangle.
The once colorless and rusty metal doors he loved to slam with his soccer ball while playing with Gabriel, were now turned into sturdy, iron structures that moved automatically. Sliding to the side to let him in as soon as he reported himself through the camera's speaker.
A Stony L-shaped wall held a metallic letters into another metallic structure. Cherryville Ranch.
He had arrived and his heart beat at the uncomfortable sensation of seeing his home destroyed and turned into a colonial-like resort.
Where there was a modest yet firm built, one floored home, was now a two floored manor that extended left to right. A vibrant sunset orange dressed the walls of the structure, adding enough color to the place sumptuous grandeur.
The staff ran up and down, bustling and moving like busy ants through the anthill, obeying the queen. Or rather monarchs.
His black Chevrolet Silverado parked outside, following the instructions of a man that gave him the ok with a good smile.
He had arrived ten minutes earlier, just in case. Miguel stepped out and put on his hat.
A black and brown flannel dressed up his torso snugly, a pair of jeans that did a wonderful job into containing his well worked legs, the belt just hugged his narrow waist, accentuating his sculpted physique.
The man offered his help with his suitcase, but Miguel refused with a polite smile.
"Keep going straight and you'll get to Mr. Anderton's office. It's the only brown door in this floor."
Strong hands clenched at the name of his enemy.
"Thanks."
Miguel had to take a moment to breathe in and take his surroundings.
Everything he remembered from his childhood, gone. His heart felt mike coming home to a stranger's home. Foraying in someone else's territory.
A someone that obliterated every single bit of his childhood, every piece of memory he created with Gabriel, forever gone and buried.
Replaced with over the top decors, a fake sense of coziness, hidden lies embedded in the sunset like sturdy walls, and people he once strived to be like. All now trespassers and inconnus.
Conchata always fed his brain into believing greater things, alway encouraged him to keep the hatred alive.
Would she be proud to see how far on his plan had he gotten? Probably. Even if she was busy with her new boyfriend that provided everything.
Some women shushed and spilled their gasp as he passed, leaving his presence alone to do the talk for him regarding the effect he had on women.
But this land, his once forgotten and forlorn home, would be his again.
With steadfast steps, he ventured in the enemy's territory, passing rooms and people that unavoidably watched him with brief curiosity.
But all those hubristic thoughts sapped away as soon as his eyes came in contact with the door.
A thrilled and anxious chill ran down his spine upon hearing the terse voice of his sworn foe, giving orders to someone in particular. Miguel's throat felt arid.
His heart thumped a miles per second, his breath paced into a more agitated pace and his eyes kept blinking, readying themselves to face his nemesis.
"Come in."
He obeyed and his nose flared, releasing a shaky exhale when seeing William. Same weather and cold face, the only difference was him looking a bit more rugged and his white hairs even more prominent.
It was as if time had barely passed over him.
It took every single cell and fibre of his body to control the urge to punch him in the face. But the satisfaction of having the reversed roles for a moment brought satisfaction like no other.
This time William had to crane up his head to see him, and a chill ran down his spine when meeting Miguel's red-ish brown eyes. Piercing and judging with all the intention of doing so, as if the very man before him knew his deepest secrets.
The door shut with a quiet click and Miguel stepped closer.
"Mr. O'Hara." William stood to meet him with a brief and firm handshake.
"Sir."
William nodded with a brief smile and gestured for him to sit before him.
"Must say what people say about you, do you justice."
"Good things I hope."
"Now. The property you'll be in charge is in a bit of a mishap, I've barely had the time to fix it-"
"S'alright. It's part of the barn you said?"
"Indeed. Your functions are detailed in the contract, payment is every fortnight, unless you'd like to choose another type of payment time."
"Fortnight is alright."
William pushed the contract to Miguel, and this wasted no time in reading it and taking a picture of each page.
"Any doubts you, can call me and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."
Miguel signed and pushed the paper back to him. William put it on a folder and then put it on a file. He turned off his computer, and lead the way towards the stables.
"I've tried everything, and nothing works. People have told me to sacrifice the horse, but I can't do that."
Miguel wandered after William through the never ending halls of the estate, there was nothing left of his home. Not even the built in stone oven, where he'd watch Conchata prepare dinner and he'd help out with the tortillas.
Now full of modern equipment and full of people cooking different things he couldn't name.
Miguel had to admit that the stables were his favorite part from the whole dollhouse. William knew no concept of budget. But that was alright, cause every horse in it was worth every single penny and had turned it into a lovely stable aisle.
Each horse had its own fortified enclosure, well kept and clean. There were no bad odors, dirt, mud. None of that. Matter of fact, his eyes blinked when seeing some horses having a swim in a giant custom made pool.
Everything in Cherryville oozed with power and money.
Having revenge and interacting with horses he only dreamed of while getting paid, felt the ultimate fantasy came true.
The angry neigh of a horse snapped him out of his thoughts. The black Friesian stallion kicked and nipped another brown horse nearby. The caretakers immediately separated them both.
William sighed deeply and defeated. And Miguel approached to inspect the brown mustang horse.
"That's Joaquín. The black one is Agustín."
Miguel quirked his brow at the name choices but was glad to have something he was familiar with.
Miguel chuckled and nodded
"Do you know spanish, Mr. Anderton?"
"The amount enough to understand when my wife is angry."
"I see."
As much as he wanted to let out an array of insults here and there to test his words, he'd keep his sharp tongue for himself.
"You can start tomorrow, I'll let you get installed. The barn is in good conditions to suit your needs. If anything is missing, ask any of the helpers around."
With a final and firm handshake, William left.
Miguel gave himself a tour. He wanted to familiarize with the property as much as he could. He didn't like to rely on others for the simplest of task.
Even his way to the barn had been paved and well lighted. No longer being the muddy a d dark road he loved to splash his feet in, even if that meant to have his ear pulled by Conchata later.
The barn, like the rest, took his breath away. It looked like a house for himself.
He wasted no time into admiring the work, and effort put into it. The tack room was sure a thing, but his bedroom and office were even better conditioned. It was a place worth of his skills and knowledge.
Miguel begun unpacking and installing himself. From his window he could see yet another extension of property, Bodegas and the staff living quarters he supposed.
One thing he had forgotten about the place were the torrential rains that always seeped in. Sometimes the blackouts were so common he'd rather be candle lit.
And another entrance to the whole facility adjacent a couple of blocks from his barn.
---
He had finished his shower after spending his evening trying to get acquainted with Agustín and the rest of his crew. Overall and so far it seemed the perfect place to work, but also a challenge.
Thunders roared outside and rain kept flogging every surface it could, permeating to the core. He was ready to make his bed and call Gabriel when the lights were out.
A loud whir echoed through, before the lights returned, the generator wasted to time into working.
What alerted him was the main entrance opening and closing shut.
Had a worker slipped in?
Another blackout happened as he approached to the door only to find a soaked and gorgeous woman shivering on the entrance.
"Ma'am?"
----
Your friends had promised to be a casual party among the singletons in town, nothing more, nothing less. But time and drinks kept going, like the fun.
Until you had enough. As an Anderton you had a reputation to keep, but you were glad your friends made you feel a normal woman, free of keen and expecting eyes and societal etiquettes.
Free of the overbearing role model you had to be for being the Pastor's daughter.
But right now all you cared for was to get inside the barn to give your body a rest from the cold.
The once lovely dress you wore was now hugging you with a vice like grip, suffocating your curves like a second skin. The red and short cardigan around your shoulders did little to nothing to protect you from the unforgiving rain. Hair stuck to your shivering face, teeth clattered as you looked through the window. The rain had no intention to stop.
Your hands removed the cardigan, then tossed the clothing piece to the floor, as you rubbed some heat back.
"Ma'am?"
The rich and deep voice got you jumping in your spot.
"Oh, my god... I'm-" You swallowed when seeing the handsome man before you, dressed up in nothing but his grey sweatpants and some slippers. A towel hung loosely on one of his shoulders.
His brow quirked as his face remained serene.
"I-I'm sorry didn't know the barn was occupied."
You kept rubbing your arms, hoping for the rain to drop. A loud thunder made you recoil from the door, while the drip drops scurrying off your body rolled down to the floor, joining into a puddle beneath your red heeled sandals.
If it wasn't for your hair sticking on your cheeks, the man would definitely see the profuse blush emerging on them. Shirtless men weren't in your everyday occurrence, much less handsome and tall men with beautiful eyes that seized your soul.
A smirk came on Miguel's face, as he retrieved another towel from the bathroom and he approached.
"I got installed today, it's ok."
He gave you the towel, and you took with a grateful smile. Immediately pat drying your face, neck and arms.
He watched you with sharp eyes, following your hand's movement as he slicked back his hair.
You were gorgeous. And drenched to the bones. That little dress did little to keep his eyes wandering to your thighs, marveling at the soft and plumpness of them. He had to look away as soon as his eyes stopped on your chest. The outline of your nipples poking out the dress, gave him enough distraction for a moment.
You didn't look past twenties.
"Uhm..." Your sweet and stammering voice made him curious.
Such a polite girl.
"Yes?"
"Can I use the barn's phone, please?"
He shook his head softly and opened his office. Letting the door open for you to enter.
"Of course."
"Sorry for the floor."
Your arms crossed on your chest, giving him a glimpse of your cleavage. Then fetched the phone, the number however made him frown as it was William's personal contact number.
"Hello? Papa? Can you send someone to the barn with an umbrella, please?"
Papa
Miguel blinked as he stared your way from the door frame. This was even better than he anticipated.
He was so deep in his scheming that forgot William's family. So far he knew, the Anderton man had only one child. And he was now looking at said person.
He could see some bits of William in you, specially in your nose and cheekbones. The rest was your mother's doing.
And what a good job they've made.
"I know, I'm sorry. Got too caught up in the party."
Miguel luck couldn't truly get any better. He could even taste his revenge through his mouth. It was sweet as your perfume.
"Thanks. Love you!"
You hung up the call and smiled his way.
"Thank you. Mr...?"
"O'Hara. Miguel O'Hara."
You gave him your name with a sweet smile as he shook your hand amiably.
"Right. So you're the new trainer?"
His lax frame slanted against the doorframe, blocking your way from the entrance with his form. His eyes fixed you with an enigmatic smirk.
Your nervousness was making your mind a jumbled mess by simply being around him. Half-naked men and men were off the list. Mainly because your parents' strict beliefs. And the man that would get you, would be your future husband. Without discussion.
"I am. Yes. Quite impressive the settlement you've got."
"Ah, well. Dad takes seriously his businesses, and he needs all the help he can get. So thank you for coming."
"My pleasure to help, señorita."
His lip curled, almost imperceptible upon your flustered reaction. Your skin remained with goosebumps.
"Come. Let's get you warmed up."
You followed him to the fireplace and soon he got another towel since the one you had was soaked through.
You sat in front of the fireplace and he draped your shoulders with the dry and cozy towel to then sit across you.
"Thanks" You gulped and extended your hands towards the fire, gaining a much needed wave of heat.
He couldn't wait for you to leave and call Gabriel to tell him everything he had seen so far. Everything was beyond perfect, like if the universe itself had delivered his revenge on a silver platter.
A couple of minutes passed before a familiar voice to you echoed from outside the barn.
"Mi niña! Let's go!"
The ever familiar voice of your nana called, and you stood.
"Thanks for the help, Miguel."
"Anytime, señorita."
He nodded with a softened smile, that didn't reach his eyes and watched you leave.
"See you soon!" You waved and headed back to the main doors. Your heels clicking on the floor.
"Vicky!" you squeezed under the umbrella after your nana secured the towel.
You wanted to give Miguel a last thanking but the latter had already closed the door. You left to the manor.
Miguel rushed to fetch his phone and immediately called Gabriel. He picked up after the third ringing.
Miguel talked and rambled about everything he had seen, and Gabriel could only listen. Expectant.
"Lemme get some months in and then you can come. That way we gather more evidence."
"What about that woman? Anderton's daughter."
He sighed with a dreamy heave.
"She looks the type that's perfect for luring."
"Use her to your advantage. Hit em right where it hurts."
"I'll do it. Don't worry. She's too kind and sweet. Won't see it coming."
With this new piece of information, Miguel could do so many things. But his goal was clear.
He'd hit William right where he dared hit Conchata a long time ago.
He'd go after you. And if that meant to act like he adored you, then so be it.
His revenge was finally in motion.
----
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#t writes✨#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#ranchero! miguel#mi dulce cereza
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Thinking about it being very cold so marcille and Falin share a sleeping bag, and because marcille keeps burrowing deeper in the bag and Falin is taller than her, she keeps turning and getting her face buried in falin's chest
Marcille feeling hot and tingly, prickling with warmth and want, trying to say to herself that this is just like healing, it's nothing, it's just touch, no need to be shy about it
Falin muttering marcille's name in her sleep... and then moaning softly
And marcille DYING, immediately scrambling out from the sleeping bag and leaving falin sleepy and confused and complaining about being cold as marcille insists she can go sleep with one of the boys
Not realising that Laios, senshi, and chilchuck have crammed themselves ridiculously into one sleeping bag and that there is No Room and that she has to go back to falin anyway
"Are you shy?" Falin asks, and laughs softly. "We've shared a bed before!"
"Not this close!"
"I like being close to you, Marcille. You make me feel safe."
And that's adorable, really, it is, but it'-- so much. Marcille is so horny and she feels GUILTY about it, meanwhile Falin is saying, "Do you mind if I take my shirt off? It's so cosy with both of us--"
"KEEP YOUR CLOTHES ON!"
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Set In Stone
Part Two
Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Reader
Summary: As the sun sets, your new life as a statue begins and you struggle to find your place in this strange and unfamiliar world. The more you learn, the less you understand, and the feelings you’re experiencing regarding Aleksander and Alina only adds to your confusion.
Warnings [18+]: smut, dub con, fingering, nudity, somnophilia, discussions of sex, mild violence towards the reader (physical and magical choking), angst, references to emotional manipulation with magic, object insertion, human to statue transformation, consumption of magical potions, very brief mentions of pregnancy, Aleksander and Alina have been alive for centuries and they don’t know how to have normal relationships
My Masterlist • Part One
As sleep fades from your mind, you turn your head and end up face to face with Alina. Her pale hair casts a soft halo over her features, the bright strands ruffled erratically by her slumber. A heart stopping smile spreads across her lips when her eyes meet yours.
“Good evening,” she whispers.
After scouring your surroundings, the plush pillows and soft sheets, you blink at her shyly.
“How did I end up in your bed?”
She brushes a strand of hair from your face, her fingertips grazing over your cheek to trace along your jawline.
“You were fast asleep when you turned human again. I couldn’t bear the thought of waking you. Aleksander carried you to bed.”
“Oh. Thank you.” She beams at you, her hand snaking its way down your body before it settles on your bare mound. Heat spreads over your cheeks as you ask nervously, “Are you checking for stone?”
She shakes her head, her fingers slipping between your folds. Each stroke is casual and languid, as if she’s simply enjoying the feeling of your arousal building beneath her touch.
“You’ve been so good,” she coos dotingly with a rather adoring smile. “I think you deserve a reward. Don’t you agree, Sasha?”
Aleksander’s hand smoothes over your hip as he presses a kiss to your collarbone. The smile that touches his lips is softer, more tentative, yet he agrees immediately.
“I do.” His answer is low and raspy, his voice thick from sleep and it makes your stomach flip.
Alina’s thumb encircles your clit and you whimper at the sudden burst of pleasure thrumming beneath your skin. It spreads through your muscles, soaking deep into your bones until you’re shaking with the need for more.
Their voices are low as they murmur encouragements and praises that make your cheeks burn, heat diving down to where your pulse is pounding. After the last two days of being edged and toyed with, your nerves are fraught.
The pressure of Alina’s thumb remains steadfast, confident circles that make you writhe between them both. In a direct contrast, Aleksander’s fingertips are deceptively light as they dance over your bare body. They leave you aching for more and less at the same time, which has you approaching your climax at a frightening rate.
Even after you’ve come undone over her fingers, the shaking doesn’t stop and your heart continues to pound as you attempt to catch your breath. Overwhelmed, you close your eyes and press your head back into the pillow beneath you. Before you even realise it, you’re thinking of Alina wrapping her arms around you while Aleksander strokes your sides.
Emotion blooms heavily in your throat as you realise how much you want to be held by them both. The urge makes your chest ache, but the thought of asking your captors for cuddles makes you feel ridiculous. Zoya’s words immediately spring to mind. You’re too soft for them. Much to your dismay, hot tears begin to slide down your cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand to quickly hide your tears and prevent any further embarrassment. Alina curls her fingers around your wrist, halting your movement, which allows your tears to fall in earnest.
“Whatever for?”
For a brief moment, you want to admit how much you want them both to care for you, and tell her about the doubts Zoya had placed in your mind. But you bite your tongue.
Zoya might not have given you the warmest welcome, but you don’t want her to get into trouble. Not to mention that you feel insane for feeling so much for them in such a small space of time. You shouldn’t feel anything for them besides anger and hatred for what they’ve done to you.
“Nothing,” you concede weakly. “It’s nothing.”
Alina tightens her grip on you.
“Don’t lie to us.”
Her voice isn’t overly stern, yet her eyes are your downfall and you relent quickly at the sight of them so fixated on your tears.
“Zoya said I’m too soft for you, and I’m scared she’s right.”
To hide from their reaction, you close your eyes. Until Aleksander says,
“Alina used to cry after sex.”
Shocked, you look up at Alina. Her head turns quickly to direct an accusatory look at her husband.
“Aleksander!” Each syllable is drawn out with mock fury and she swats at his bicep in retaliation. He ducks his head, attempting to make himself a smaller target.
“You did,” he protests with a playful smile which softens as he adds, “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
She clasps her hands in her lap, appearing shy for the first time since you met. Her gaze moves up to you from the ring on her finger - a polished piece of black onyx simmering in the candlelight.
“Aleksander was my first,” she admits.
Her eyes flicker up to look at him, a fond smile spreading over her lips when their eyes meet. It must have been centuries since they first met, yet in this moment you can see how they must have been when they first fell for each other. It warms your heart, yet there’s an ache of longing there once again.
Alina ducks her head down, capturing your lips with hers which catches you completely unawares. A small sound of surprise hums in your the throat, which soon dissolves into a quiet moan of pleasure as the ache in your chest eases. She cups your cheeks, her hands a soothing balm to the distress that had been burrowing its way into you.
She settles on top of you, pushing you firmly onto the bed, and you grind your hips upwards mindlessly in search of some friction. She breathes out a soft laugh, her smile widening which she sees your lips chasing hers.
A shocked little “oh!” escapes you when she slips a finger inside you which she mimics teasingly.
“I think you can give me another one. Can’t you, my little statue?”
Halfway through shaking your head, your body tenses with the force of nearing another climax. Each muscle in your legs quivers and you dig your heels into the plush mattress as you lose control over your body. The pleasure makes you shake even more than before, your chest heaving rapidly.
“You really are a work of art,” Alina murmurs appraisingly, her fingers dancing up your bare body. Unable to acknowledge her words, you keep your eyes closed as Aleksander tilts your head backwards, revealing your neck for him to kiss. His teeth drag over your pulse point and you moan softly.
Then Alina slips her arms around your waist, pulling you against her chest - away from Aleksander’s lips.
“Don’t damage her, Sasha.”
He grips onto your hips, tugging gently in an attempt at dislodging you from Alina’s hold as he argues,
“She’s my statue.”
“But I made her.”
An aroused little gasp slips from your lips, which draws their attention back onto you. They both grin. Alina strokes your cheek fondly.
“Do you like it when we fight over you?”
“A little,” you admit shyly.
They both laugh, appearing to settle on a compromise as they both begin to kiss you lazily. When Alina claims your mouth, her husband nibbles along your pulse point. Then they trade places. Aleksander sucks on your lower lip, while his wife digs her teeth into the sensitive spot beneath your ear.
There is barely a moment between each kiss for you to recover. It leaves you breathless.
“What kind of Grisha do you think you are?” Aleksander murmurs against your lips. That makes you withdraw slightly, though they don’t let you go far.
“I- I told you, I’m not Grisha,” you insist. “I’m not powerful like the two of you, or beautiful like the other statues.”
Alina sighs heavily but Aleksander smiles at his wife.
“Now you know how I felt about you.”
“I wasn’t this bad.”
“You were worse.”
Their discussion of you - and your non existent power - has nerves settling in your stomach and you gnaw on your lower lip in agitation. What will they do when they figure out that you’re nothing special? They won’t want you anymore. Aleksander draws you into his lap.
“Don’t worry yourself, my gem. Alina has always had a shorter temper than myself.” That makes her scoff lightly, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation at her husband. “Even after a few hundred years, she struggles with the art of patience. But I can wait. Reveal yourself whenever you are ready.”
Alina gives you a soft smile. It’s clear she agrees with Aleksander’s sentiments, but that doesn’t fully ease your anxiety. After all, you don’t understand what they want from you. Surely, if you had some sort of power it would have revealed itself already.
The covers slip from Alina’s body as she stretches, yawning rather adorably. Then you notice the scar on her left shoulder. It’s small, but gnarly, stained black from some sort of dark magic.
Hesitantly, you brush the knuckle of your index finger against the ridge of roughly healed skin. She smiles softly, before explaining in a low voice,
“A gift from the Darkling.”
The sound of Aleksander’s former title makes you glance at him quickly. A wicked smile spreads across his lips as he leans over to kiss his wife, which has your stomach flipping with surprise. You had thought neither of them would want to be reminded of when they were enemies - though it seems to be quite the opposite.
They both grin into the kiss, Alina’s teeth nipping at his lower lip during a brief interlude when they part for air. In response, Aleksander curls his fingers around her throat, squeezing the vulnerable area against his large palm.
A rather dreamy sigh escapes you, as you stare in admiration of them both looking so breathtakingly beautiful. The sound attracts their attention and they turn to look at you. Alina leans over to you, kissing you softly before she slips from her husband’s grasp.
Aleksander props himself up against the headboard, his bicep flexing as he curls his arm behind his head. The two of you watch Alina as she moves towards the wardrobe at the side of the room. The dimples at her hips crease as she shifts her weight from side to side, considering the clothing hanging in front of her.
She turns with a white lace robe draped over her arm and heads back towards the bed. She places it over your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“I’ll call for Genya to keep you company today.”
Self conscious, you fidget with the hem of the robe, drawing it closer to yourself as you lower your gaze.
“You don’t need to bother her. I’d be alright by myself.”
Aleksander reaches for you now, fingers grazing the side of your neck before they curl around the nape. He kisses you leisurely, his lips moving slowly as he steals each second of precious air from your lungs. When he finally withdraws, your chest aches as you gasp in a series of shuddering breaths.
“You aren’t a bother,” he insists. Then he kisses you again.
Hands curled into weak fists, you press them against his chest, unable to figure out if you want to push him away so that you can breathe or bring him closer to drown yourself in him. Bright sparks dance beneath your eyelids as he pulls away and your head spins as oxygen floods your system.
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
Genya grins widely when she sees you standing outside Aleksander and Alina’s door.
“I take it you’ve had a good night so far?”
Heat rushes to your cheeks and you duck your head bashfully to escape her gaze as she loops her arm around yours. The two of you walk side by side through the corridors, moonbeams and flickering candles lighting your way.
Genya pauses when you reach a set of double doors. She pushes them open and immediately a rush of humidity hits your face. A shudder rolls through your body, as the lingering cold inside you flees from the heat. There’s a light sheen of sweat glossing over your skin as you enter the room, squinting in the bright moonlight that spills from the large window carved into the ceiling.
In the centre of the room, there’s a pool which seems to be the main source of heat. Steam curls over the surface of the water and you look at the people lounging around the room.
“Most of the statues spend their nights here,” Genya tells you.
“Doing what?”
“Whatever you want. Relaxing. Sleeping. Pampering one another.”
The sight of one particular group catches your attention immediately. Three women and one man. They are seated amongst a mound of velvet cushions and plush fabrics. All four of them are in varying stages of undress. The woman in the middle is wearing a sheer red robe, her bare body openly on display. Her eyes lock on yours and recognition dawns on you.
“Is that Zoya?”
Genya nods.
“Beside her are Nadia and Marie.”
The two women are fawning over Zoya, their hands wandering over her body. The man is draped between her thighs, his head ducked down as he licks leisurely at her cunt. It makes your core tighten.
“And…?”
Genya scoffs lightly in amusement when she sees where your gaze has stopped.
“The one between her legs is Nikolai.”
She takes your hand in hers, tugging you towards the side of the room.
“Here,” she says. “Let’s clean you up a little.”
The two of you find a quiet corner where you can sit undisturbed. There’s a number of smaller pools, that remind you of rock pools, where water bubbles cheerfully.
Genya finds a seat, settling down on a velvet bench that sits low to the ground. She scoops up a handful of water, splashing it over her face. Her fingers smooth across her cheeks, droplets clinging to her eyebrows and lashes. When she sees you watching her, a smile spreads across her face.
She dips her hands back into the water, shaking them lightly before she removes them and sweeps her wet hands over your face. The moisture makes your nose crinkle and Genya laughs softly.
“This water is enchanted.” You hum questioningly and Genya explains, “Being turned into stone so often takes a toll on our bodies. The water helps our muscles and joints stay healthy.”
She tilts her head, eyes tracing down your body while you consider this information.
“Should we clean off your legs?”
Looking down at your thighs, heat rushes through your body as you realise that the mess of your arousal has dried on your skin.
“I can do it, thank you.”
“Sit at the edge of the pool,” she suggests. A frown creases at your brows and she smirks with mischief in her eyes. “Zoya will be able to see you properly there.”
The temptation is too much to resist. It’s hard not to be aware of the eyes on you, as you sit down at the edge of the pool. But, after spending the beginning of the night with Aleksander and Alina, you feel a little thrill of pride as you lower your calves into the warm water, scooping up handfuls to clean your thighs.
The water is soothing against your skin, a comforting caress that clears away the evidence of your earlier climax.
At the far end of the room, a door opens and Alina steps inside. Almost everyone turns to look at her, as her eyes scour over the sea of faces until she lands on you. Unable to stop yourself, you smile and glance down at your bare toes, splashing them in the water beneath you.
She walks casually around the pool, her eyes rarely straying from you. When she reaches where you’re sitting, you tilt your head back to look up at her.
Alina sits down beside you, taking hold of your chin so that she can press a chaste kiss to your lips in greeting. A shy smile quirks at the corner of your mouth.
The two of you sit in comfortable silence, your legs hanging down in the water as you watch the other statues lounging beside the pool. Then she turns to ask you,
“Has Genya told you why I make my statues?” With a frown, you shake your head. “Aleksander and I aren’t complete together. There’s a missing piece - another person to balance us.” She glances around the room, gesturing to all the people relaxing in the heat. “Every one of my statues is someone who I hoped might have been the one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Aleksander’s mother was a prophet. She told him that our future partner will be a powerful Grisha. Someone capable of breaking my statue spell.”
Immediately, you think of the book you found in the library and attempt to remember how the spell could be broken. Before you make any progress in your recollection, you’re distracted by thoughts of how Aleksander had pressed you against the bookcase, leaving the hint of a kiss on your lips.
A flustered heat spreads over your cheeks and you look down shyly at your knees, hoping she can’t tell you’re thinking such thoughts about her husband. She traces her fingertips over your shoulder, drawing little patterns on your skin.
“The spell I placed on you is exceptionally hard to break. Do you know why?” You shake your head. She smiles. “Because you love me - and you like being my statue.”
Caught off guard, you’re painfully aware of your heart pounding in your chest, hot blood rushing to your cheeks and down your neck in response to her words. The feelings you have for her are still difficult to decipher and you’re mortified at her brazen acknowledgement of them.
She looks down at her knees, her feet swaying lightly in the water.
“All my statues love me - I created them - they can’t help it. That’s why you haven’t ever considered hurting me, even after what I’ve done to you. But the love you feel for me now… it isn’t real.”
Stunned by her words, you can only stare with parted lips. Something sharp twists in your chest. Strangely enough, it feels a lot like betrayal. The blossom of your feelings has been plucked, its petals tattered by the storm of emotion currently threatening to choke you.
She smiles sadly, reaching out to stroke your cheek. The ache inside you deepens at her touch. A tear spills down from your eye and you shake your head which causes her to drop her hand.
“No.” The word wavers on its way out. She tilts her head, frowning slightly as she tries to read your current emotions. It takes a moment for you to settle on one in particular - anger. “You don’t get to take my entire body away from me and then tell me what I can and can’t feel for you.” She leans closer, her hands reaching to comfort you and you recoil backwards. “Don't touch me.”
Alina freezes and for a brief moment you think she looks hurt. Guilt stings at your chest. Then her brows furrow together, her features darkening.
“I don’t appreciate that tone.”
Usually, you would be terrified of angering her, but in this moment you’re too upset to care. Tears blur your vision as you pull your legs from the water.
“Well, I don’t appreciate being a plaything to amuse you until someone better comes along.”
Her eyes widen, her expression dropping as you stand. Her voice is a near whisper that you barely hear as you hurry away.
“That’s not-”
The idea of your feelings towards them being artificial, something created by Alina’s magic, has you feeling foolish and eager to get away. They haven’t allowed you a moment alone since your second transformation into a statue and the heat that had initially been comforting is now strangling you.
A shiver runs over your wet skin as you walk through the corridors mindlessly by yourself, with no destination planned. Genya’s tour yesterday hadn’t been extensive and you soon find yourself in an unfamiliar area that looks like an entry hall.
As you walk towards the large oak door, your heart rate quickens in anticipation. There isn’t much hope in your thoughts when you reach for the handle, twisting it cautiously.
The door opens.
Stunned, you look back into the house, almost expecting someone to appear and stop you from leaving. But there’s no one there. From where you’re standing the house is silent, aside from the frantic beat of your heart.
For a moment, you hesitate. Your feet are bare. You’re only wearing a thin robe. But you aren’t escaping. A short walk in the gardens might help you clear your head.
The paths are winding, the route concealed by the tall bushes that line each side of the walkway. It’s almost like a maze. The thought of wandering until sunrise makes you worry. Would Aleksander and Alina look for you?
The sight of someone in the corner of your vision makes you halt in your tracks, stepping back behind a bush out of sight.
“You’re new,” she says.
Her accent isn’t the refined Old Ravkan that you’ve grown accustomed to hearing in the house. Rather naively, you stay still in the hopes of losing her attention.
“I can see you, little miss.” She laughs bluntly. “Not to mention that I can hear your heartbeat.”
Stepping forwards, you move away from your hiding spot.
“You’re a heartrender.”
She tilts her head, studying you for a long moment with her pale blue eyes before she nods.
“What’s your name?”
Genya had told you that only the statues that fall out of favour with Aleksander and Alina end up in the gardens. Even with your feelings hurt, you don’t want either of them to be upset with you. As a result, associating with someone in the gardens might not be the best idea. After some hesitation, you give her your name. She nods in acknowledgement.
“I’m Nina.”
“Why are you out here?”
She grins.
“I could ask you the same thing, little miss.” There’s a teasing spark in her eyes and you lower your gaze bashfully. When you don’t speak, continuing to wait for an answer, she sighs and explains,
“I fell in love. Aleksander didn’t approve.”
“What happened?”
She turns her head and you follow her gaze as it lands on a rather weathered statue in the centre of the neatly cropped lawn. The man is sitting on the ground, his expression fond as he looks at no one. Then it dawns on you.
“You’re one of Alina’s statues.”
She nods.
“As my punishment, Aleksander turned Matthias into stone. When one of us is a statue, the other is human.”
You can’t imagine how upsetting it must be, being separated from the person you love like this. Never able to talk to them, or hold them again. Yet so close. From what Genya has told you, Aleksander and Alina seem to care for their statues. But Alina’s admission has made you wary of your thought regarding them.
“I’d get back to the house if I were you,” Nina advises you. “Before they realise you’re missing. You don’t seem like the type to misbehave.”
Immediately, you shake your head at the thought of getting into trouble with Aleksander and Alina.
“I don’t know the way back.”
Nina raises a brow at you. For a moment, you feel like a lost little lamb. Helpless. Then she points down a pathway.
“Keep following that path until you reach the fountain. Walk through the rose garden, then you should be able to see the house from there.”
“Thank you.”
She shrugs.
“Don’t mention it.”
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
Lost in thought, you wander aimlessly through the house. As you’re turning a corner, Aleksander appears out of nowhere, pinning you to the wall. His hand curls around your throat.
“You’ve upset my wife.” His words are cold and calm which sends a shiver down your spine.
“She upset me,” you protest, gasping in his hold as tears fill your eyes. “But neither of you care about that. You don’t care about me.”
“We don’t care?” he repeats slowly, as if testing the sound of the words on his tongue. Panic claws at you when you realise the skin beneath his palm is turning to stone. “You think we allow any of the others into our bed?”
Unable to stop yourself, you remark,
“What about Zoya?”
His anger sharpens, his grip tightening as he tilts his head aside to watch intently while your airway becomes restricted by marble.
“I have known Zoya for centuries. She helped me stave off the loneliness until I met my Alina.” With each word, his magic creeps over your skin, hardening your throat into marble. Dots swim over your vision, as breathing becomes even more difficult. “I don’t care which one of you started this petty rivalry but it ends now. You want to take Zoya’s place? Earn it. Is that understood?”
Only once you’ve nodded weakly does he finally release you. Without the pressure of his hand to keep you upright, you collapse. Instantly, you place a hand to your throat, rubbing the tender skin there as you heave in a flurry of shaky breaths. Teary-eyed, you stare up at him. If he regrets his actions, you don’t see it in his expression.
He strokes your cheek, ignoring how you flinch.
“I expect an apology before sunrise.”
There’s a hoarseness to your throat when you attempt to speak.
“I’m sorry,” you state shakily.
He grips your chin, tilting your head back to meet his darkened eyes.
“Not to me.”
A faint nod is all you’re capable of, but it seems to satisfy him and he strides away down the corridor.
Hot tears roll down your cheeks as you stumble back to your room. The only emotion you’re capable of feeling is utterly distraught, the shattered pieces of your heart digging into your lungs.
Once you reach the safety of your room, you close the door, slumping weakly against it as you tuck your thighs against your chest so that you can hide your face between your knees.
Then there’s a knock at the door.
It’s Genya. She smiles gently.
“Aleksander sent me. Are you alright?”
Immediately, you crumble in on yourself, bursting into tears. She wraps her arms around you, drawing you close as she steps into your room.
“I know,” she murmurs sympathetically as she strokes your hair. “He scared you - didn’t he?”
Genya guides you over towards the bed, setting the two of you down as you continue to cling onto her. She lets you sob, only stepping in occasionally when you forget to breathe. In this moment, you are so upset that you forget how self-conscious her beauty makes you, even when she wipes your runny nose until the skin is raw.
It isn’t long before you’re exhausted by your emotions.
She lowers your head onto her lap, so that she can smooth over your hair soothingly. The tears fall slower now, sliding heavily down your face. The two of you remain silent for a long time, the only sound being your tearful sniffles as you slowly begin to calm yourself.
“Genya?” She hums softly, encouraging you to continue. “How old are you?”
There’s a pause.
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“We don’t really keep track of the days here,” she says lightly. “I used to count the summers, but gave up after so long. It doesn’t really matter to us.” Fresh tears bloom in your eyes, as you realise you are trapped here forever. Nothing can take you away from them, not even old age.
After a discrete sniffle, you ask,
“Were you one of the first ones?”
Her hand halts in its petting.
“What makes you think that?”
“They trust you.”
She pauses, before admitting,
“I was Aleksander’s first statue.”
At the mention of his name, you sit up to face her.
“Aleksander’s?”
She nods, stroking your cheek gently as she sweeps the tear-soaked hair from your face. You frown.
“But, doesn’t that mean you should be a statue now - at night?”
She shakes her head.
“As a wedding gift for Alina, he removed his magic from me, so that Alina could have me as hers. He did the same to Zoya.”
“Zoya?”
Saying her name, even in a whisper, makes you feel as though Aleksander and Alina are about to descend upon you for a scolding.
“Alina and I were friends almost instantly when she arrived here. Zoya has always been possessive - I think she and Alina are too alike - they bickered and fought from the moment they met. Belonging to Alina is a gift for me, but it’s a punishment for Zoya.”
Genya shuffles across the bed, until her feet are touching the ground. Then she tilts her head, studying your face.
“It’s almost time for dinner. Why don’t we freshen you up and head downstairs?”
The thought of sitting at the dinner table, in front of Aleksander and Alina and all the other statues, makes you want to hide in the wardrobe or under the bed.
“I’m not hungry.”
A light frown crinkles at her brows.
“They won’t be happy if you skip a meal,” she warns you. Something must shift in your expression, because she softens her tone as she adds, “After dinner, you could speak to Alina about what happened between you.”
“I don’t want to, Genya,” you protest pitifully, your voice wavering as you wipe at your tearstained cheeks with agitation. “They hate me.”
“They don’t.”
Staring down at your hands, you admit rather brokenly,
“I think they do.”
She places a hand over yours, cupping your cheek with her other hand to guide your eyes upwards so that they meet hers.
“Neither of them are truly angry with you - maybe displeased but not angry. Trust me. If they were, we wouldn’t be talking like this.”
“I’d be out in the garden.”
She hums quietly, not an outright agreement but you know you’re right.
“Come on, let me clean you up. How did your feet end up so dirty?”
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
Aleksander’s expression is sombre as he enters the dining room. His eyes scan over each person at the table, and you avert your gaze when he gets to you. He sits down at the head of the table, the same seat as the other morning when you had eaten breakfast in his lap.
Everyone seems to be waiting for him to speak.
He adjusts the position of his cutlery, straightening the knife closest to his plate. Then he looks up directly at you.
“Alina won’t be joining us for dinner this evening.”
You feel sick to your stomach.
Unable to focus on anything but the storm of emotions swarming in your chest, you push your chair backwards, uncaring towards the scraping sound that attracts everyone’s attention.
Genya murmurs your name quietly, a comfort or a warning - you don’t know. Her hand tugs lightly on your dress, but you pull away easily, shaking your head to dismiss her sympathy. You don’t deserve it.
The weight of Aleksander’s eyes presses on you all the way to the doorway. You still feel watched, as you walk through the winding corridors towards their wing of the house.
Once you reach their door, nerves twist at your stomach but you force yourself to knock. The silence afterwards has you wringing your hands together. The sound of Alina’s voice makes your heart skip.
“Leave me be, Sasha.”
Drawing together your courage, you call out,
“Alina? Can I come in?”
There’s a pause. Then the door unlocks with a quiet click. The handle creaks lightly, before it glides open.
She’s sitting on their bed, wearing one of Aleksander’s shirts. Her arms are wrapped tightly around a velvet cushion and there’s twist in your chest when you realise it’s the same cushion she placed beneath your head when you were in your statue form.
Her eyes are lined with red, and guilt stirs in your stomach. She uncrosses her arms as you approach the bed. Some of the tension in your body eases when she pats the spot beside her rather amicably. Relief softens the frown creasing between your brows. She doesn’t seem displeased to see you.
When you sit down cautiously, she strokes her hand over your cheek.
“You look like you’ve been crying yourself sick,” she observes, her lips puckered into a sympathetic pout. Her concern makes your tears return.
“Alina,” you whisper brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”
She regards you solemnly, her expression unreadable.
“Did Aleksander tell you to come apologise?”
Her question catches you off guard.
“I-” The thought of lying to her makes your throat tighten. The memory of Aleksander’s hand squeezing there causes a phantom ache. “He did, but I really am sorry. I don’t know why I acted like that.”
“You got upset.”
“Yes. I did,” you whisper shamefully, lowering your head to avoid her gaze.
She hooks a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head backwards so that she can meet your eyes.
“I understand,” she concedes. “I’m sorry too.”
You blink at her, confused.
“Aleksander was the first person to want me,” she says quietly, her thumb circling your lower lip. “It’s been such a long time, I will admit, I forgot how much it hurt thinking I was unwanted. But I saw it in your eyes, and it… surprised me.”
She tilts her head, considering her next words.
“Most of my statues don’t care that their feelings were created by my magic.” She traces over your cheek with her fingertips, stroking along your hairline tenderly. “You’ve fallen a lot harder than the rest of them.”
Embarrassment warms your cheeks. It’s ridiculous, falling for her so quickly, especially after everything she’s done to you.
“I’m sorry.”
She smiles and your stomach flips at how painfully beautiful she looks with mirth glistening in her eyes.
“Don’t be.”
There’s a small pause.
“Genya said that belonging to you is a gift,” you state. Alina hums in confirmation. Her eyes flicker between yours as she acknowledges your unspoken question.
“Aleksander made Genya his statue to keep her safe from her parents. Even though she loves him like a brother, being tied to such a powerful man always made her somewhat uncomfortable. Becoming mine freed her.”
That makes you pause, titling your head as you think. Their displays of affection might be unconventional, but Aleksander and Alina do seem to care for their statues.
“I should have listened to what you were trying to tell me.”
She shakes her head.
“I’ve explained it so many times - to almost all the newest statues - I don’t know why I got it wrong this time.”
“How can I make it up to you?” you ask shyly. “I’ll do anything.”
She blinks hopefully at you.
“Anything?” There’s only a brief moment of hesitation, before you nod. “Take your dress off.”
Her request doesn’t surprise you, though you still feel shy as you slip the straps of your dress down your shoulders, pushing the fabric over your hips before you drop it to the floor. She smiles widely, playing with a strand of your hair before sweeping it behind your ear.
“I’ve been thinking of a place for you, in the house.”
The thought of being moved out of their bedroom so quickly makes your stomach twist. Nervously, you fidget with your fingers.
“You have?”
She nods, tilting her head to gesture towards the centre of the room.
“Do you see that table?”
Hope enters your heart.
“Yes,” you whisper.
She places her hands on your hips, steering you backwards until your lower back hits the edge of the table. Slowly, she slides her hands beneath the crook of each of your knees, lifting you up onto the furniture. The surface is cold against your bare skin and a shudder rolls through you.
“Stay here,” she commands softly, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.
She moves over to the side of the room, stooping down to open a cabinet and retrieve a bottle of dark liquid. After lifting the stopper, she pours a glassful and brings it over to you. With unsteady hands, you hold onto the glass, staring down at the contents.
“Drink it all.”
Not wanting to be seen as disobedient, you take a plentiful gulp before asking your question.
“What is it?”
She waits until you’ve swallowed another mouthful. The sharp fruit flavour quickly softens as it slides down your throat and the tension leaves your shoulders as you lick over your lips.
“It should help relax your muscles.” She smirks deviously. “So, I can push you into whatever position I want.”
The sweet taste lingers heavily on your tongue.
“What position are you thinking of?”
She takes the glass from you, licking the rim at the spot where your mouth had been. Arousal burns in your core. Her eyes flicker down to your lips, drinking in the sight of you growing so flustered and she grins.
She pushes you back further, your feet swinging off the floor, and your stomach flips at the sudden sense of vulnerability. Then she keeps pushing, lowering you down onto your back so that you’re lying in the centre of the table. A shiver runs over your skin when the cool surface meets your bare body.
Alina hooks her hands beneath your legs, lifting them up onto the table. She bends them, until your knees are pressed up on either side of your head, your cunt bared to the crystal chandelier directly above you.
“Can you hold your legs like this?”
Surprised at your own flexibility, you turn your head to study each of your legs.
“Yes.”
She beams at you.
“That’s my girl.”
Every inch of you burns delightfully. Hers.
She lowers her head between your legs. Her tongue slips through your folds, licking a stripe over your open cunt. A squeal and a moan converge in your throat at the sudden sensation and your face burns with embarrassment at the sound.
Alina lifts her head, a grin tugging at her lips.
“Stay just like this.”
She moves over to the side of the room, standing on tiptoe to reach for the decorative light fixture attached to the wall. The flame flutters as she grips the base, loosening it from the attachment that keeps it fixed there.
Her fingers are curled around the base, which acts as a slim handle as she carries it over to you.
She traces a fingertip lightly over the curve of your buttocks, a contemplative expression dancing in her eyes.
“I’d like to slot this inside you.”
Utterly taken aback, your mouth drops open.
“The candle?”
She laughs.
“No, silly girl.” She tilts the candle holder, gesturing to the handle. “This end here. Do you think you can hold it for me?”
“I-” You falter.
“It would make me very happy.”
Slumping your head back, you stare up at the ceiling, eyes wandering over the sharply cut gems as they reflect the low light of the chandelier.
“You’re coercing me,” you mumble in protest.
She grins, amused and proud.
“Yes.”
Closing your eyes, you push your embarrassment aside.
“Will you go slowly?”
Her expression softens.
“Of course.” She offers you the candle holder which you take with an unsteady hand. “Wait a moment.”
She moves over to her dressing table, opening a drawer which she searches through with a small frown on her face. With Alina busy, you take a moment to study the candle holder. The material is smooth in your hand. There’s a substantial weight to the metal and your core tightens at the thought of having the handle pushed inside you.
Alina returns with a small tub of cream which she scoops up with her fingers on one hand. Then she takes the candle holder from you, and you watch as she smears the cream over the handle.
She then slips her hand between your legs, tracing a firm circle over your sensitive cunt. The cream is cold and you twitch at the change in temperature. Her fingers delve inside you, curling as they search for the spot that makes your hips buck upwards with a startled gasp.
A deep moan catches in your throat as she begins to push the handle inside you. In your hand, the metal had felt almost room temperature but it’s like ice as it meets your red-hot cunt.
“There we go. Good girl. Take it all for me.”
She slides it further into you, so that the wick of the candle is pointing upwards towards the chandelier above you.
“With some practice, you might be able to hold onto a more weighty candlestick, one with several arms.” It’s hard to concentrate on anything while she’s twisting the base inside you. “A pretty little candelabra,” she teases.
A familiar stiffness enters your body, and you inhale sharply when you realise the sun must be rising. Alina strokes your thigh soothingly with a smile.
“It’s okay. Remember, you just need to relax.”
The idea of turning into a statue doesn’t scare you as much as it did the first time, but you still aren’t comfortable as the heavy sensation fills your body. Suddenly, you realise that she intends on keeping the candle holder inside you during your transformation - that during the day she will be able to use your body as a light fixture.
“Alina?”
She stills and you wonder if this is the first time you’ve spoken her name aloud in front of her. Her dark eyes fix onto yours.
“Yes?”
“What would happen if…” Embarassment makes you pause, as you struggle to gather your words. “…if I reached my climax the moment I turn back into a statue?”
She grins widely.
“Then you will stay in that blissful state for the entire day.”
“The entire day?”
She nods.
“It is a rather intense experience. The pleasure could break you.” She tilts her head, her eyes locked onto your soaked cunt as she continues to twist the handle inside you. The urge to squirm coils inside you, but with your body transforming all you can manage is a shiver.
“If I continue like this, you will stay on edge for the entire day.” She blinks at you. “Which would you prefer?”
“I don’t know,” you admit, your throat growing hoarse and dry as the skin of your neck turns to stone.
She hums, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“You handled a day of edging rather well last time. I think we will stick to that until you’re better trained to withstand pleasure.”
Thoughts of how she might train your body to endure such pleasure has anticipation prickling up your spine. She smiles, releasing her hold on the candle holder so that she can lean over and press a soft kiss to your forehead.
“I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
Pure bliss warms your body as you wake, a pleasurable fullness in your core that tempts you into sinking back into slumber. But the sound of voices keeps you somewhat awake.
“She thinks far too much.” A familiar voice. Aleksander. A firm hand strokes down your bare back.
“Well, I know how to remedy that.”
“And what do you suggest, my darling wife?”
“We spend the entire night in bed, passing her between one another. She can’t think if she’s drunk on pleasure.”
After blinking some of the sleep from your eyes, you shift your body slightly and realise you’re lying on someone’s bare chest - Aleksander.
His dark eyes are hooded as he looks down at you, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips, and your heart pounds violently as you attempt to remove yourself from him. Involuntarily, your cunt tightens around his cock - as if protesting the mere thought of your sudden exit. He settles both his hands on your waist, holding you firmly in place.
“Easy, little gem. I’m not mad at you.”
You blink at him.
“You’re not?”
He shakes his head, breathing out a soft,
“No. I’m not.” He rolls his hips upwards, drawing a low moan from you. “Alina told me you apologised.” His hips grind against yours, the head of his cock nudging the sweet spot inside that makes your skin tingle. “Therefore, you’re forgiven.”
“Thank you,” you gasp.
He breathes out a laugh.
His cock is so big inside you. It stretches you open with each thrust, nudging at your most sensitive areas which has your toes curling with pleasure.
Alina rests her hand against your stomach, stroking the skin there as she presses the area where her husband’s cock is. Her name is slurred as it tumbles from your lips. She laughs.
“Yesterday was a long day for you, little statue. You must be tired still. Get some more sleep.”
She kisses your temple and a fuzziness fills your head as her magic creeps into your mind. A delirious moan slips from your lips as you succumb to her spell.
Despite being asleep, you can still feel everything happening to your unconscious body, while your mind wanders through a medley of fantasies featuring Aleksander and Alina - which blur with reality until you don’t know what is actually happening.
Grinding your naked body into Alina’s, her hands grasping at your most sensitive areas. She slips her fingers inside you, prying your cunt open.
Kneeling between Aleksander’s thighs with Alina by your side. The two of you trade wet, open mouthed kisses. She takes Aleksander’s cock into her mouth, pretty pink lips stretched. The next time she kisses you, the taste of her husband clings to her tongue.
The head of Aleksander’s cock gliding over your dripping cunt.
Alina’s teeth grazing your nipple.
Her tongue licking up the length of your inner thigh.
The pad of his finger, rubbing your clit.
The sticky softness of Alina’s cunt against your tongue.
Distantly, you hear Aleksander curse in an ancient language you’ve only ever read on yellowed pages. His fingers dig into the soft plush of your cheeks as he grips your face while fucking into you relentlessly.
“Alya. Where do you want me to-” He groans sharply.
“Inside, Sasha,” she insists with a breathy sigh. The sound of her slick coated fingers, playing with her cunt makes your core tense. Her back arches as she whines softly. “Finish inside her.”
With a stifled gasp, Aleksander presses his forehead against your collarbone, as he nears his climax. His teeth dig violently into the hollow of your throat, the pain causing you to tighten around him, your cunt now strangling his cock.
The two of you moan in unison, grasping tightly onto one another as you both reach the peak of your pleasure, your bodies writhing in the throes of a violent, synchronised orgasm. Aleksander’s grip on your hips is tight, squeezing you as he groans.
Alina isn’t far behind, her frantic movements and moans registering distantly through the clouds of bliss fogging up your head. It takes quite some time for you to catch your breath. Even when Aleksander eventually pulls out from inside you, there’s a disconnect between your mind and your body.
Their magic hazes over your thoughts, dulling your awareness while she plays with Aleksander’s spend as it leaks out of you. The wet sound of her fingers and your unsteady breathing fills the room. She smears the creamy mess over your thighs, before ducking her head down to lap up the streaks with her tongue.
The three of you remain in bed, lying side by side. Unable to stop yourself, you look down at your hand, watching your thumb move slowly over your abdomen.
“You won’t end up with child,” Alina says quietly.
Startled, you look over at her with widened eyes.
“I won’t?”
She shakes her head.
“My magic stops your natural cycle.”
“Oh.”
Her eyes wander slowly down your body, settling on where your hand remains on your stomach.
“Besides, Aleksander and I can’t…” Her voice trails off into nothing and sadness traces its way over her features.
“Alina, I’m so sorry.”
She attempts a casual shrug.
“It’s probably for the best.”
Placing your hand over hers, you squeeze it softly.
“I’m still sorry.”
She slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close until your hips are pressed flush against hers, your legs tangled together. Her nose brushes against yours before she kisses you softly. Aleksander’s arm curls around the two of you, drawing you both closer to him.
He leaves a kiss on your shoulder, resting his forehead in the crook of your neck as he inhales a deep sigh. Another kiss is pressed against your pulse point as he murmurs in a voice so quiet you scarcely hear it.
“Thank you.”
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire
S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21
Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @acehyacinth
BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow @vaguekayla @the-desilittle-bird
#darklina x reader#aleksander morozova x reader x alina starkov#aleksander morozova x reader#alina starkov x reader#darklina au#shadow and bone au#shadow and bone x reader
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Afterglow
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader
Word count: ~800
Summary: A revelation with a side of pillow talk
A/N: Don't look at me. This is my 100th drabble 😏
Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex and such
You’re lying on your back as you stare up at the ceiling with a mind cleared of all thought and a body that’s still shaking from the aftermath of your orgasm. You aren’t sure because you’re still recovering, but you feel breathless so the likelihood that you’re panting like a dog is higher than you’d like. Luckily, you can’t bring yourself to be bothered as you simply allow yourself to bask in the pleasure that has you feeling like you’re underwater.
“There’s--.”
You trail off because apparently you hadn’t caught your breath yet. You glance to the side to see your wife lying beside you, head resting on her hands as she watches you with an expression that isn’t nearly as smug as you expected it to be. That said, you may not be seeing straight yet, but that’s neither here nor there.
“There’s absolutely…no way that I made you feel that good.”
Wanda laughs at this and you shiver when her hand falls to your arm as she moves closer to kiss your cheek. You’re smiling before you can stop yourself and you can’t even imagine what you look like right now. Probably just like the lovesick fool that you are. The thought makes your smile wider and you turn so you can meet your wife’s lips in a kiss that steals your breath again. Not that you care in the least right now.
Wanda’s the one who breaks the kiss and she shifts closer to you so she can sneak an arm around your waist. She kisses your nose before pulling back and watching how you regain control of your senses. She waits until you meet her gaze to respond with a smile that almost makes you sit up so you can kiss her again.
“I wouldn’t be so sure, detka. You just wore yourself out earlier.”
You don’t have the energy to argue, and you don’t want to, so you just reach out for your wife with a huff. She obeys and lies down again before rolling into your side with a sigh. She brushes her hair out of her face and the smell of her shampoo makes you turn toward her with a groan.
“Well, I still can’t feel my legs, so we’re stuck here for a bit.”
Wanda laughs again before rolling her eyes at you. You miss the adoring look she shoots you as she holds you close and listens to your racing heart. She can’t help but smile at the fact that she is responsible for your current state. That she had you incoherent only a few minutes ago.
She frowns slightly when she hears you chuckle but she doesn’t get to ask what’s on your mind before you speak up with a teasing smile.
“Ah there it is. I was waiting for that cute smug smile of yours.”
You only laugh harder when Wanda smacks you playfully before she threatens to tickle you. You’re still too sated and comfortable to make any real effort to move, so you cave immediately which makes Wanda’s smug smile return in force.
“it’s actually not what you think.”
You only offer a skeptical hum in response, and Wanda just rolls her eyes again as she gets comfortable beside you again. She kisses your shoulder and waits until you glance down at her with a curious look.
“If I’m smug it’s because I get to have you all to myself.”
Your desire to give Wanda a hard time promptly leaves you with her confession. You sigh before you shift so you can wrap an arm around her shoulders. You kiss her forehead before using your free hand to pull the covers up and over you both.
“You have that backwards, Wands, but ditto.”
Wanda shakes her head before shooting you a look that makes you freeze like a deer caught in headlights.
“Are you really arguing with your wife after she gave you an orgasm?”
You can’t help the way your cheeks flush at her words and you only manage to shake your head before clearing your throat that’s suddenly dry for some reason.
“Of course not. That would be ridiculous.”
Wanda just kisses you in response before deciding that you both could use some rest. She’s not sure how late it is, but you had returned home from one of her clubs a little past 2am, so it has to be at least 4. She doesn’t bother to mourn her lack of sleep as she pulls away from you. She lets out a tired moan as she shifts under the covers until her legs are tangled with yours.
“I love you, Y/n.”
You tighten your hold on your wife before humming in agreement. You can feel yourself fading and you’re only a few minutes away from passing out in exhaustion. It was a long, but wonderful night, and you have no regrets. You’ll trade sleep for time with your beautiful wife any day of the week.
“I love you too, Wanda.”
Masterlist
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x female reader#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda x reader#mob au#silver springs drabble#silver springs
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Ridiculous obscure OJV headcanon:
Kyle (freshman year yeeting disorder recovery era) logging that he “vanquished a quesadilla” into the Recovery Record app and his therapist being all “… so you ate a quesadilla is what you’re saying, that’s great but can we use more direct terminology” lmfaoooo and he 100% phrased it like that bc he had FaceTimed Stan for meal support and when he held up the crumpled wrapper his fantasy dork best friend went “HELL YEAH DUDE YOU DEFEATED IT” bc Stan may not get it but he knows his sbf was seeing that shit as a foe to be battled, like it’s not just a tortilla with cheese. These two losers I adore them.
#them#south park#style#OrangeJuiceVerse#yes this is bc I just vanquished a quesadilla wow we love nutrients#yes I almost passed out at work earlier bc I’m fucking stupid and have a goddamn eating disorder#my partner has discovered that one thing I’ll eat is Taco Bell cheese quesadillas with a shit ton of Diablo sauce#so I’m not tempted to panic and throw it up in fear of something bad happening if I digest something lmfaoooo#he got out of the shower and went ‘hey honey did you eat while I was gone’#and i triumphantly held up the wrapper and said ‘I vanquished this shit’#god why am i like this#and why did I South Park all over it
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Hi! I have been a longtime lurker, but I wanted to share my love for your writing and for the newest chapters of DOG. (The crumbs of backstory.... yessss.....) My favorite feature of your writing and something I admire in every one of your pieces is how humorous they sometimes are even considering the heavy subject matter... like especially in DOG there have been times that I have genuinely laughed out loud just over how ridiculous the characters are. König is especially silly. Love him.
Also, will you include a real name for him at some point in future chapters? At first it was unclear to me why the reader would choose to call him Kurt when they discuss medications, but I'm assuming it's just because she wants to be able to communicate with him on a serious level... unless I missed something idk. the fact that he is just cool with it is interesting to me. I guess I was just wondering if you could provide some more insight on that scene?
you got me critically thinking about this shit lol
Yesss! I *love* to hear that because those silly sprinkles are there for a reason :) I have a tendency to lighten up even the heaviest angst with a few “adorable” details because I want to remind readers that these folks are human at the end of the day. Also I just can't see König as this well-rounded daddy dom with knee buckling rizz... To me he's just a baby silly guy who has his screws a little loose!
The name ‘Kurt’ comes from chapter 8 where reader comes up with a name for König when she & her friends catch him in her house. It bothers her every now and then that she doesn’t know his real name (and he refuses to tell her for some reason!) but she also doesn't use Kurt much because König found the name choice ridiculous 🥲
His real name will be revealed in the 15th chapter, and König's whole backstory in full in the 16th chapter which will also be this fic’s finale ^^
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Coryo begging on his knees, my downfall
I mean isn't that just all of us?!
nsfw / mdni / sub!coryo / dom!reader
“Plase, mommy, I need you so badly!” Coryo begged.
He was kneeling before you, looking up at face adorably, his eyes wide and his pink lips slightly parted. You could see the outline of his fully erect cock within the confines of his sweatpants, almost poking through.
He looked as adorable as ever.
“What do you want, baby?” You asked genty. You were trying to sound harsh since he'd been acting like a little brat all day, but he was looking so damn cute looking up at you with those desperate icy blue eyes.
“I just want to please you, I want to make you feel good mommy!”
“Hmm… Is that so?” You hummed, enjoying how powerless he was, aching for that sweet release.
“Are you sure you aren't here on your knees begging like a pretty little whore just because you want me to make you feel good?”
You loved seeing the little short circuit happening in his brain as he was thinking of the best reply to your question.
“P-please, I just need you to…”
“You need me to make you cum?” You teased him relentlessly enjoying how pliant and powerless he was at the moment.
“Look at you, always so needy, huh?” You brushed your thumb over his pretty little mouth and he used the moment to wrap his lips around it and suck on it hungrily.
You savored the moment without any rush, watching his body relax and his eyelids flutter as he sucked around your digit. Then you pulled it out and watched him frown at the loss of contact.
Coryo pressed his forehead to your thigh, longing for the warmth of your skin and you let him kiss it adoringly as your fingers caressed his soft blonde hair.
“Aww… My poor, poor baby,” you hummed, feeling his warm lips and the tip of his nose touching your skin, leaving countless little kisses wherever he could reach.
“Mommy,” his soft voice echoed your teasing.
“I need you to make me cum… So badly…”
You let out a small laugh, digging your fingers deeper into his golden curls.
“There it is, Coriolanus,” you yanked his head back, making him whine.
“Was it so hard to just say it?” You leaned down and whispered, your lips lingering just a few millimeters from his. He looked simply delicious like this.
You pulled the boy back to his feet and closed the distance between you, feeling his hard-on pressing against your body. You made a gentle thrust towards his hips, feeling his body shiver from the sudden relief.
“So responsive, baby,” you cooed as you repeated the movement again and again knowing full well that he won't be able to last long. It was simply ridiculous how hard he got from your teasing alone.
Coryo let out a deep groan as you sped up your pace now grinding against his bulge and holding on to his hips to get a better contact.
“Mommy, oh god!” He moaned, throwing his head back and clenching his jaw, visibly ashamed by the fact that you were about to make him cum without even using your hands or any of your holes. He felt like a hormone ridden teenager again.
“C’mon baby, you don't have to hold it any longer,” you encouraged them, keeping up the pace, while your hands traveled up to cup his face.
“Oh, I'm gonna…” Coryo’s body trembled as he came hard inside his pants and you met his lips in an open mouth kiss, feeling the vibrations of his soft little moans against your lips.
Coryo rested his head on your shoulder, panting softly as he slowly came down from his heights.
“I think I made quite a mess there,” he chuckled looking down at the dark stain forming in the front of his gray sweatpants.
You wrapped your arms around him and held him gently.
“It's alright, babyboy! We don't have to tell anyone that you got so excited just from a little teasing. Go clean yourself up! I think it's time for mommy to have a bit of fun too.”
#thank you for the ask#coriolanus snow#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x you#thg#the hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tbosas#thg tbosas#blurb#cts ask
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ok so (very rambly post incoming)
i've only played pathologic 2 up to like 7 pm of day 3 (took like 3 tries to heal Patches and spent most of the day gathering herbs for that and dealing with paperwork), but can we talk about how *fantastic* the immersion is in this game? because
1) i felt actual *dread* when i just barely missed the deadline for the Patches quest the first time (my brain: oh god oh fuck i was literally next door in my workshop but i was late i couldn't save the child i will never be a menkhu and where is Aspity and why the fuck is the bell tolling this cutscene is creepy af WHAT)
2) i never expected Lara Ravel of all people to hurt me enough to make me cry but here we are
Rubin and Grief making racist remarks about the Kin i wasn't happy about happy about at all, but that's basically how they were from the first dialogues with them so i was like. i guess that's them now. but *LARA*? lovely adorable Lara Ravel who first offered me shelter, trust, and compassion when the whole town thought i mercilessly killed my own father?
i dared casually call her basaghan and she went on a whole thing about how she hates being called that and also this one weird herb bride (i *think* her name is Nara?) asked her where i am and "ugh what's her problem?" :/ i just sat there like "wha.... Lara how could you say that to Artemy? he's had a bad enough day already... pchd Lara would have never..." i felt so weirded out and betrayed, and now a week later it feels ridiculous because this is an npc in a video game Dot you are not Artemy Burakh what the heck was that reaction- (kinda reminded me of the feeling of a high school "friend" randomly making antisemitic comments to me for no reason now that i think about it)
anyway tldr 100/10 immersion, not too mad at you Lara (just very disappointed) and my pulse goes up a little bit when i think about the Patches quest, but that just proves the immersion is absolutely brilliant
and lesson learned, trust no one in this wretched town, anyone and everyone has the potential to suddenly be a prick to you in patho2 XD (and also keep track of the goshdarn time because if i understand the shituation at hand right the timer will start speeding up after this day)
and yes i know it will only get worse because this is
: the Restaging, but i played pchd so i think i'm ready for anything now
...that's a lie, no i'm not ready for what's to come at all. but neither is Artemy so i guess it's fine XD
#i looted lara's kitchen cabinet to retaliate#pathologic#pathologic 2#lara ravel#hbomberguy#dot rambles#(a lot this time XD)
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Politely requesting Miles Miler thoughts in these trying times
aaaaa I haven't gotten anything for Miles in a minute 🥺 I have a bunch of oddly placed thoughts about the little guy, so I guess this is a *drumroll, please*
Random Miles Miller headcanons + NSFW
He. Sleeps. Everywhere. You leave him in the car to go get something in the store and come out to find him snoozing in the seat. If he lays on you, he'll be out in minutes. On the couch? Gone. Waiting for the waitress to bring your meal? Out like a light. Boring movie? He didn't stand a chance. Standing up? He's mastered it. Lawn chairs are off-limits because he will curl up and wind up with a ridiculous sunburn.
Quiet as all hell. Unless you're watching the door, you truly have no idea if Miles has come home or not. Sometimes, you'll turn around, and he's just there. When did he enter the room? Nobody knows.
Somewhat related, you getting frightened also scares him. Which means that if he accidentally scares you into yelping, then he's likely going to jump and yelp, too. His reaction to horror films is entirely correlated to how you react; if you're quiet, then he will be, too, but the moment you scream, then so will he.
Nothing on this earth will get between Miles and his ice cream; he loves nearly every flavor. Chocolate, vanilla, rocky road, mint chip, cookie dough, cake batter, salted caramel. Pistachio is one of the few things that he'll wrinkle his nose at, but he'll eat it if he's got no other option.
He's shy about it, but he loves it when you let him sit in your lap, his back against your chest while watching television, straddling you as his lips tangle with yours; he adores it all.
You've got to be so careful about when and where you choose to kiss him because anything longer than a few seconds has the little guy mewling into them. He can't help it! There's something so soothing about it that has those soft noises bubbling out of him. Not loud enough to be heard from the next room, but there's a reason why you can't sneak over and kiss him behind the reception desk.
When you ask about it, Miles has no clue what you're talking about because he's never spent money on cologne, but he smells like cinnamon rolls? Warm, fresh out of the oven, just cool enough to not burn your tongue when you take a bite.
It's only after you move in together that you realize he's been using a cinnamon-scented 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. You'd bug him about graduating to specialized products, but he always smells so damn good that you can't really complain.
Giggles when you maintain eye contact for so long. He doesn't even realize that he's doing it. One minute, you're gazing into each other's eyes, and the next, his lips are rising with a laugh.
Finger nibbler. His own fingers, yours, he doesn't discriminate; if they're near his mouth, then he's gently nipping at the tips of them.
Let! Him! Snuggle on your chest! Pepper his forehead with kisses while he's there! It's the easiest way to get him giggling, cheeks and ears twinged with pink.
Loves baking but isn't that great at it. He keeps trying, but regardless of the effort involved, there's always something wrong in the end. His pastries might be a little burnt, and you may not like them, but hey, he got his sweet treat, and he's happy about it :)
You're gonna have to get used to Miles mumbling to himself. It's not that he's trying to start a conversation or got too shy to continue on, he's just genuinely talking to himself. Sometimes, he'll be reading a book, and you'll overhear a faint, "Don't do that. Why are you doing that? Stop. Don't do that—oh my god."
Rapidly jumps between flighty, not wanting any trouble, and fierce protector. It's strange to watch.
Most of the time, Miles is very keen on avoiding trouble at any cost, steering clear of a restaurant where you got a rude waiter, backing off the moment someone snaps at him, apologizing the moment someone raises a problem with him.
But then there's a night when you wake to a crash downstairs, and he starts dishing out firm, quiet orders to stay near the phone until he comes back. Eyes narrowed, gun in hand, slinking out of the room like he's hunting prey. It was only a shelf that had fallen, shattering a vase on its way to the floor, but for those few minutes, you were the safest person on this side of the country.
Really does not mind it if you want to do 'girly' stuff with him. Paint his nails, style his hair, put makeup on him. He might complain a little if you try to put him in a skirt or a sundress, but he'll do it if that's what you want.
Probably not much of a headcanon, but Miles is such a good little housekeeper! He knows exactly what to use, how much, and how to maintain it. You haven't cleaned the bathroom in years because Miles has a way of doing it and doesn't like to stray from it. The house is immaculate, and Miles is so proud that he's purring like a kitten.
Stronger than he looks? You're still processing it; Miles is nothing but skin, bone, and a little bit of muscle, there's no reason for him to be able to lift that damn bookcase by himself, but he does it. Somehow.
Miles remembers every little thing you've ever told him. You once pointed at a pair of shoes while at the mall, talking about how you wanted them, but they were out of stock, and the store refused to sell the displays. Six months later, they're your birthday gift. You can ramble about a show he's never seen, and he's genuinely listening, keeping up as if he's watched it with you.
Kisses! French kisses, chaste pecks, butterfly kisses, neck, earlobe, hand, belly, nose, hello kisses, goodbye kisses, he wants to give and receive them all!
It wasn't something he was aware of before you got together, but Miles gets so damn squirmy when you kiss his thighs. Especially when you take the time to suck darkened marks into the sensitive skin there; it's the quickest way to have him leaking against his belly and babbling about how badly he wants you to touch him.
Slightly into voyeurism, but only in spaces, he knows don't get a lot of foot traffic. Ex. You sucking him off while he stands behind the reception desk, where anyone can venture through the front door at any minute. He loves clamping his hands over his mouth to try and muffle his whimpers when you're harshly sucking on his sensitive tip.
Raging praise and degradation kinks. You called him your pretty little slut once, and his knees nearly buckled out from under him.
You wouldn't think it, but Miles is surprisingly noisy in bed. He's always gotta be making some kind of noise, babbling your name, grunting under the effort of working his hips, keening high in his throat, senselessly grumbling when you kiss down his neck. The best ones are when you fuck him hard enough to wring those soft 'uh, uh, uh's out of him.
Speaking of. Pegging? Miles had never heard of it when you first met but now he's obsessed. Riding your strap until he's too sore to keep going, getting bent over the kitchen table in nothing but that cute pink apron, the tender closeness of you fucking him in missionary, where he can wrap his shaking legs around you. If you hit the right spot, he doesn't even need to touch his cock.
If Miles could make a full-time job out of eating you out, then he would. There's just something about the feeling of your thighs clamping around his head, your fingers pulling at his hair while he rolls his tongue over your sensitive clit.
Nearly proposes marriage every time you moan his name. One of these days, it's actually going to make its way out of his mouth.
Below the belt, he's pretty average. His cock is maybe a hair over six and a half inches, noticeably thicker but not enough for you to warrant any extra prep before sex, but there's a curve to him that he's learned to use to his advantage. Positions like missionary and cowgirl are where he stands out the most, dragging just right against all those little spots.
...mayhaps I got carried away
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Hiii, omg ur taking requests?? i LOVE ur writing sm aghh 😍😍❤️❤️ would u write part 2 to think about me? i adored it sm maybe the reader is sick (she has a fever and really bad cough) but is very horny so she calls gator who’s at work rn but he promises he comes as soon as he can? also her relationship with gator is secret and he comes over when her parents are gone with her little brothers for the weekend and gator takes care of her and also she’s so clingy? <3 and when she vomits in front of him she cries and is so embarrassed…
Part two to Think About Me (but could be read as a standalone lol)
Hope you enjoy! And thank you for enjoying my writing!! <3
CW: Age gap (reader is 20, gator is 27), mentions of smut but no actual smut, Gator being very sweet does that count??
Your relationship with Gator was, surprisingly, nice. He was sweet, brought you pretty flowers and your favorite chocolates. He messaged you first thing in the morning and before you went to bed. He was perfect. You were both perfect. Other than the fact that it had to be hidden.
Your father had made that clear on your birthday. The Tillman's had been invited over and apparently there had been enough tension between you and Gator to raise suspicions from your parents. Suddenly you were too young, too naive to have a boyfriend. You thought it was ridiculous.
You were excited for this weekend, having many things planned out for you and Gator. Your entire family would be gone. Some out of state football game happening for one of your brothers. You had feigned sickness.
Only that had seemed to be your downfall as the early Saturday hours slowly drifted into the afternoon. Your cough worsened, becoming more severe as your cheeks grew hot and sweaty. You brushed it aside, sure that it was your hard work from cleaning so furiously.
"Hello," The raspy voice on the other end of the line drew out playfully, bringing a smile to your lips as you sniffled again, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," You said quickly, already hearing the worry in his tone, "Just some allergies. Do you think you could bring me something when you get off of work?"
"What kind of somethin'?" He teased, making you shift deeper into the couch as a giddy feeling spread through you. It was almost enough to make you neglect the sense of sickness you'd felt.
You thought of the habit he had to sneak into your room when everyone else was asleep, of all the sweet nights you'd had together. He liked kissing you. He liked kissing you everywhere. You were tingly at the thought once again.
"Don't know," You giggled softly as you curled up on the couch, smiling as you felt a rush of pleasure form between your legs at his words, "Something to make me feel better."
"I got the perfect cure for ya, baby doll," He teased, making you feel like you had thousands of butterflies spreading through your stomach, "Can you last a few more hours without me?"
"Mhm," You drew out softly, excited as you glanced back towards the kitchen. You had a crockpot full of chili on and had plans to make cinnamon rolls once he got closer. He liked those, especially when you added raisins to them, "I'll be waiting here for you."
Your plans became even more disrupted as your symptoms grew worse. You piled under blankets and blankets, unable to stop shivering despite how hot your face was. Every time you began to doze off your rough coughing awoke you, your lungs burning from the sensation.
"Hey," Gator's voice awoke you this time around, making your eyes snap open as you quickly sat up. He guided you slowly, holding onto your shoulders as you glanced at the time, "You alright?"
"I overslept," You wheezed out, sighing as you began to couch roughly once again, "Sorry. I was gonna make cinnamon rolls and-," You began to stand but gator gripped your shoulders and quickly sat you back down. You nodded your head, feeling like the house was spinning a little bit.
"You sick?" He mumbled as he brought his palm up against your forehead, then dragged it against your cheeks. You mumbled, shrugging your shoulders, "Where's the thermometer?"
"Um," You paused as you thought about it, "It's in the kitchen drawer. The second to the left." You said, sure of your answer. It hadn't been too long since you had to use it on one of your brothers.
Gator paused, pulling his paper bag open for a moment before he handed you a bag of cough drops and some nighttime cough syrup. You wrinkled your nose, thinking about how disgusting it would taste. You were still grateful though.
He gripped your chin softly with one hand when he approached again, then used the other to slide the thermometer under your tongue. You stared up at him, admiring the concentrated look on his features.
"Bite down," He instructed, making you blink in surprise before you did as he asked. He smirked a little, looking a little cocky as he flicked his eyes from your features and back to the numbers on the screen. He whistled, making your eyes snap up to him, "I'm gonna get you something to bring that down." He mumbled, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen again.
"I made us chili," You replied, feeling like it wasn't that big of a deal to have a little fever, "I thought we could watch a movie. I got new pajamas too."
"You did?" He approached again, wearing a smile this time as he placed some pills in one of your palms and a glass of water in the other, "Drink that." You nodded along, doing what he instructed in hopes that you would feel better.
"I wanted it to be a good night," You replied, doing your best to keep from pouting as he unwrapped a cough drop for you next, "Thanks." You said softly as you popped it in your mouth, sucking on it a few times before you began to chew on it. It was a habit. You couldn't help it.
"It still can be," He mentioned offhandedly, as he brushed his fingers across your cheek, "I'll get us chili. You sit here. Uh, here." He paused as he handed you the remote, sending you a soft smile before he went on his way.
Your stomach twisted at the thought of food, so you set your bowl aside and curled up against him instead. He held you close, keeping his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he pulled you in tightly.
Your felt a little better curled up to his side, head resting against his shoulder as you drifted in and out of sleep. He was warm, giving you that comfort you needed as he held onto you close. Occasionally you'd hear him chuckle, which you hoped had to do with whatever he was watching and not the fact that you were sure you were snoring.
A cold sweat woke you up this time, making you pull away from Gator as your stomach twisted and turned in odd directions. You glanced at him for just a moment, noticing that he had somehow slipped into his sleep clothes at some point.
"You alright?" He asked as he brushed his palm across your back, rubbing softly as a bitter taste filled your mouth. You felt your eyes widen as you quickly stood, tripping over your own feet as you stumbled into the bathroom.
You made it just in time as you emptied the contents from your stomach into the toilet. You continued to gag for a moment, wishing that you could've shut the door first.
You felt his hands on your back before you heard his sweet reassurances. You held onto the counter for a moment, trying to catch your breath as you suddenly felt hot tears against your cheeks. This was not how you wanted your night with him to go.
"Hey," His voice was soft and warm, smooth like sugar as he continued to rub at your back. It was a little too hard, like he didn't know what he was doing, "It's alright. Just a little puke." He replied, like it was no big deal.
You wiped your mouth, sniffling as you flushed the toilet and sat back on your knees for a moment. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, listening to the sound of gagging from next to you.
"Fuck," Gator replied as he held his palm over his mouth, shaking his head quickly, "I'm sorry. Shit. Fuck, I'm fine. Really." He nodded his head, but looked a little pale as he rubbed at your back.
"You're fine," You replied as you sniffled, laughing once again as you shook your head, "I understand. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen that." You sighed as you stood onto shaky knees, gripping your toothbrush before you scrubbed your mouth clean.
"How about-," He began slowly as he adjusted your pajama shirt, covering up your exposed skin as his eyes met yours in the mirror, "I run a bath for you. How does that sound?"
You paused as you spit into the sink, satisfied that you could only taste mint as you slowly stood to look at him again. You nodded your head, feeling a little shy suddenly as he guided you upstairs.
His hand was warm in yours, strong as he held onto you tightly. Once you were inside the bathroom he got the water to the desired temperature before he slowly stripped you down.
His eyes still wandered, but not in a suggestive way. He admired you, making your heart thump roughly against your bones as he helped you into the tub.
You sank down into the water, sighing at the way the hot water massaged your tense muscles. Gator stood back for just a moment before he crawled in behind you.
He hummed softly before he pulled you back against him, pulling you close as he pressed his chest against your back. It was intimate, far more intimate than the times he'd been buried between your legs. You'd never had him be this sweet before, this caring.
You supposed your night wasn't all that bad after all.
#gator tillman#gator tillman fluff#gator tillman x reader#gator tillman x reader smut#gator tillman x reader fluff#Gator Tillman x you#Gator Tillman x yn
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The extreme levels of hadorable going on here 💖
#harry styles#harry styles gif#harry styles edit#love on tour#love on tour 2023#you are ridiculous and i adore you ridiculously#favest curly wurly on the planet#pretty in pink rockstar prince#strawberry shortcake sunshine sparklebeam#all the sparkles#that styles smile#he was sooooo happy my bloody heart#harry birthday 2023#harry birthday show#actual rainbow of my life#harry 2023#my gifs
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quality time
#radioapple#duckiedeer#they are on a date! (they don't know it)#Lucifer doesn't reach the pedals comfortably and Alastor is doing all the work it is very important to me that you know that#this was born as a joke in my head bc I remembered these duck shaped boats exist and I remember not reaching the pedals and I thought#''omg radioapple''#but now it's genuinely my favorite sketch like. ever. it's ridiculously adorable they bring me joy
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This sort of case would have interested our old friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Yes, indeed.
#granada holmes#inspector lestrade#john watson#granadaedit#i like this moment a lot. i like lestrade trying to lighten the conversation after bringing up holmes#bc while he's in a place where he can talk about holmes he eventually notices that watson isn't#or at least just doesn't want to be talking about holmes at this precise moment#and so he makes his silly little remark to make watson smile. and i love him for that#bc you know he doesn’t seriously think he’s good enough that it would be unusual for holmes to get the better of him#he knows what he’s saying is ridiculous and he knows watson knows it too#he even watches for watson's reaction. and i adore that little look they share at the end#and i just really like lestrade as someone who doesn't mind making a small joke at his own expense if it means cheering up a friend#thank you colin jeavons and edward hardwicke 🫶🏽#lestrade#sh#i also like lestrade talking about holmes at all because of course he does. of course he still thinks about him#they both miss him they’re both remembering him fondly in this moment#mine
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TK talking about himself vs. Other people talking about TK
#911 lone star#tk strand#carlos reyes#owen strand#cooper The Sponsor#ok so this is take two of posting this because it magically disappeared from my page earlier so if this is a duplicate for you - apologies#I made this after I rewatched 3x13 and actually paid attention to the dialogue between cooper and tk -#- instead of focusing on carlos' ridiculous faces in that scene#seeing the contrast between how tk sees himself and how other people see him#the scene with gwyn where he says 'if i'm not enough to keep you two together' kills me#especially since gwyn didn't even... respond to that bit??#and also him being so unsure about being accepted as a paramedic compared to his resume 'sounding like a unicorn' lol#tk calling himself out on acting 'like a little bitch' is mostly adorable and I love him for it but I had to include it anyway#my gifs#hopefully the link in this works and this post doesn't poof into thin air again im havin a bitch of a time today lmao
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ALSO FUCK I forgot to post it on here but look at how handsome figzero aki is I am!!!!! so!!!!!!! I'm so excited for him I can't even 🥹🥹
#he's ridiculously cute#definitely one of my favorite aki items for sure#I was very excited for him to get a figzero announcement#and he turned out so adorable#like they gave him such a cute face I can't lol#with a cute nose!!!!!#his veiny hands tho 😳#I'm soooo happy they gave you his sword strap#so you can display him with his jacket off#the gimmick of these having real clothes is just so cool to me#like all the fabric details and the little buttonsssss#ugh I need to put my whole fist in my mouth#he's so adorable#I need my aki doll at once!!!!!!#aki <3
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