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rafeandonlyrafe · 20 days

Text

almost sweet music

words: 900

warnings: 18+ only, smut, thigh job, clit rubbing, brief tit play, childhood friends to lovers, kinda somnophilia?

your eyes are open, but they might as well be closed as you look at nothing but pure darkness. you shift ever so slightly, pressing further into rafes hold.

it's not the first time you've shared a bed. he's been your friend for years, and you used to have sleepovers every weekend before your bodies developed and it became awkward.

you would still occasionally fall asleep in rafes bed, usually when the movie he picked to watch was too boring, or when you were waiting around for him and ended up taking a nap enveloped in his scent.

tonight is different. even when you share a bed, rafe never cuddles so close to you like this. yeah, you'll wake up with your head on his chest or a leg slung over his, but rafe is pressed right against your back.

his chest is rising and falling in a steady rhythm, but you can't tell for certain if he's asleep or just relaxed having you against him.

you close your eyes, relaxing back into his hold. his soft breath fans over your shoulder, barely covered by your tank top strap.

you're about to fall asleep when you feel something poking you. your eyes open again, wider this time as rafes hip press forward.

his obvious erection grinds against your ass, slow movements fooling you into believing rafe must be asleep still, body acting on its own, much like yours does when you seek him out in your sleep.

rafe let's out a soft moan, then a mumble of your name, and now you're certain he must be awake since you've never heard him sleep talk before.

his hips begin to move faster, like he's testing out how far he can take it before you wake up. how much movement will it take for you to stir, testing how much he can get away with.

you stiffen for a brief moment before relaxing again. you squeeze your eyes shut as you try to keep your breathing regular. you don't want rafe to stop.

to others, it's been a clear (and long) game you've been playing, both pining after each other while claiming to just be best friends. this is the first time rafe has shown any clear evidence to you of his sexual attraction. what you don't see is his longing looks whenever your back is turned, or the way he's quick to go after any guy who looks at you for a little too long.

you let out a silent curse in your head. of course he's only doing this because he thinks your asleep as he moves faster against you, barriers of fabric in the way but not stopping his light moans, almost sweet music against your ears.

you wonder how long he's been pushing up against you before it woke you up. you consider your options. sit here silently, let him cum in his pants, or take action, show you're awake, and change your life forever.

you're done with the game as you reach down, startling rafe as he lets out a curse, but you simply pull your shorts down along with your underwear, revealing your bare ass as you spread your thighs, pussy on show and already starting to get wet.

you wait for rafe to continue. when it's clear he won't, you reach behind your back to pull his cock out of his pajama pants.

rafe follows your motions, taking your lead and going as far as you will allow as you rub his cock through your folds before closing your thighs around him.

“keep going.” you say.

the words is all the encouragement rafe needs as he begins to thrust, the slick between your thighs growing as he pushes against you.

a hand that was holding you close to him travels to your pussy, rubbing you with a single finger, the pad rough against your sensitive clit.

the sound of slapping skin is a telltale sign of what is happening in the dark, as rafes hips meet your ass with every thrust.

you long for him to press into your cunt, but you know you need to have an actual discussion about what this is before allowing him to fuck you properly. the thighs will have to do.

rafe rubs faster, with a clear purpose as his cock swells. you can tell he's not far off, and the pure excitement from finally being with rafe also has your high growing.

you press further into his chest as your thighs squeeze together as tight as you can force them, letting out a moan when rafe spills, cum spurting through the gap onto the bed sheet.

he leaves his cock to soften between your legs as his finger keeps working on you, free hand coming to grab your chest over your shirt, hand possessively gripping your tits until your back arches, a strangled moan leaving your lips as you cum.

rafes hands disappear from off of you. you turn to face him, but can't see his expression.

“im-im sorry.” his words are enough for you to pinpoint where his mouth is as you lean in, pressing your lips together in a heated kiss.

“we can talk about it in the morning.” you say, tucking yourself back into his side. “we will cuddle and sleep and be in a much clearer headspace.”

rafe hesitates for a second before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, a soft smile on his face as your breathing returns to normal, not allowing himself to fall asleep until he hears your gentle snores.

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mingoooossii · 13 days

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Lazy morning.

Wonwoo x reader Synopsis: just a soft thought/drabble thingy with wonwoo. Warnings: like one kiss? And it's just fluff.

Soft morning light peeked through the blinds, painting delicate stripes across Wonwoo's slumbering face. You, already awake, watched him with a silent smile.

His brow was furrowed in the slightest frown. Yet, the peaceful rise and fall of his chest brought a wave of calmness over you.

A stray lock of hair fell across his forehead, and you reached out instinctively, tucking it back behind his ear with a gentle touch.

"Good morning." you whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

The kiss, however faint, was enough to stir him. He blinked sleepily, a slow smile spreading across his face as his eyes met yours.

"Morning." he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

He stretched languidly, his arms reaching out as if searching for you. You obliged, snuggling closer for a moment before pushing yourself to get up for the day.

But a hand snaked around your waist, pulling you back into his embrace.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you like a warm blanket. The simple act sent a shiver down your spine. "Don't go." he murmured, his voice raspy.

You snuggled back into him, embracing his warmth. "Why, is everything okay?" You asked, your voice laced with concern.

Wonwoo nuzzled his head into your hair. "It is now," he mumbled. "It's off today, we're all taking a break."

Relief washed over you. Knowing he wouldn't have to rush off to work filled you with a sense of contentment. This past month had been a whirlwind, and knowing him and the boys were finally free to relax brought a smile to your face.

Besides they rarely had lazy days together anymore, and the thought of spending one with him, with no schedules or deadlines, made your heart sing.

"So, what do you want to do today?" He asked, resting his head on the crook of your neck, sighing softly.

"How about," you murmured, your voice drowsy, "we don't do anything at all?"

Wonwoo smiled. "Sounds perfect to me." he agreed, pulling the covers over you.

#wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen drabbles #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo imagines #svt imagines #svt fic #svt fluff #svt #seventeen fic #why is it so hard to title something 😞

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strawberrycheeks-and-glasses · 10 months

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You Don’t Even Know My Name

Tsukishima x You Drabbles (on ao3)

Rated 18+ MDNI | female reader

“You’re such an asshole,” you grunt through your teeth.

He’s got you pinned up against the wall in bathroom of the club he works at. The deep bass of the music vibrating through the walls, tickling your hard nipples as he presses his hips against your ass.

“That’s the name of the game, babe,” he laughs in your ear, licking up the curve and breathing heavily into your hair.

The club is called ‘@hole,’ pronounced asshole, and is the first of its kind where the bartenders insult you and the dancers flip you off, a dumb gag to attract tourists. And all night, while your group of college friends kept ordering drinks, he would make snarky comments to you. Calling you dirty little whores for taking down three shots, one after the other. Saying that your mouth is open for business.

“Fuck you,” you grunt, rolling your hips back on his hard cock.

He had cornered you in the hallway on your way to the bathroom and shoved you into the single stall. You had been eye fucking him all night, matching his snark and playing along, almost begging him to find you in the dark hallway.

“Is this what you wanted, huh? For me to fuck you in this disgusting club?”

You feel his teeth sink into your bare shoulder as he grinds his dick between your clothed ass cheeks. The fabric stunting the friction you so desperately crave.

“Fucking get on with it,” you spit, grasping behind you at the waistband of his tight jeans, urging him to take you right here.

“Shut the fuck up, you little slut,” he growls again. “I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll forget your own name.”

Panting against the cold stone wall, you hear him undo his pants and then his hands are on your thighs, dragging them up, agonizingly slow, under your skirt. Your panties are already soaking wet as he pulls the thin fabric aside.

“Fuck, you’re already dripping for me aren’t you, you fucking whore,” he groans as you feel his fingers slide through your wet slit, rubbing your lips and jutting his long middle finger inside of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe agains the wall, your lips dragging down the flat surface as you tense around his finger. “Hurry up, and fuck me,” you moan, unable to wait any longer.

“Think you can handle it? Your sweet little pussy feels so tight around my finger,” he muses, licking the teeth marks he left behind on your shoulder.

“Fuck. Me. Asshole,” you annunciate, rolling your hips back with each word.

“Oh, you’ve done it now, slut,” he growls in your ear, coating his rock hard cock with your slick from his fingers and lining his tip up to your hole.

Without any hesitation he thrusts his entire cock into you, forcefully shoving in every inch, to the base. You yelp and clench around him, hearing him groan behind you.

“Yes,” you breathe, pounding the wall with your fists as he pulls out and fucks you harder against the wall.

You feel a hot wave of pleasure building in the pit of your stomach as he slams into you over and over. One hand lifting your thigh up to fuck you deeper, the other laced between your fingers as you press into the wall.

Arching your back, your head falls onto his shoulder and he kisses your parted lips, wet and messy as he licks the moans out of your mouth.

“Fuck me harder,” you beg as his hips slap against yours. The lewd sounds being swallowed up but the loud music in the background.

“Don’t tell me what to do, you slut. You’ll take what I give you,” he hisses, turning you around to face him. His hands fall from your hips to grab your ass and lift you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Shoving himself back into you, deep and hard, you gasp against his lips. Letting him bounce you on his cock as you pull at his long blond locks, turning his head to press hot, wet kisses on his neck, moaning into his skin.

“Kei,” he mumbles, groaning as you clench around him, so close to your climax.

“Wha?” Your brain can’t comprehend what he said as he fucks you so good back into the wall.

“My name,” he pants. “Say it. I wanna hear you scream my name when I make you cum.”

Your eyelids flutter as he shifts your hips, pressing against the sweet spot inside of you, trying to will your mind to form the letters of his name on your lips.

“Kei,” you moan in his ear. Feeling his hips thrust faster and deeper inside of you as he grips your hips, you feel the pressure about to explode as his demands you to say his name again and again, hitting that deep spot inside of you each time you say it.

“Kei, I’m gonna-“ you shout, tightening around him as he feels his own orgasm rip through him.

Holding you in his arms, you huff a laugh, making him whip his head up and glare at you. “What the fuck is so funny?”

“You don’t even know my name,” you laugh, hopping off of him as you adjust your skirt.

“Yeah I do,” he smirks, pulling up his pants and buttoning them back up.

“Oh do you?” You smirk back at him, continuing to play his little game.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Slut,” he winks at you.

“Fuck you,” you shake your head at him, thrusting your middle finger in the air as you unlock the door.

“You just did,” he calls after you.

“Come find me on the dance floor,” you say over your shoulder. “If you wanna know my name.”

Later on the dance floor, you feel familiar hands wrap around your waist from behind you. Leaning back into his chest, you let your head fall to his shoulder.

“So?” He whispers into your ear. “What’s your name?”

Running your fingers through his hair as you slowly dance against him, you close your eyes as your lips meet his, ignoring his question.

“Did I really fuck you so good, you forgot?” He laughs, gripping your hips and pulling you back into him even more.

“Shut up and dance,” you whisper, grinding on his already hard cock again.

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penvisions · 28 days

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once more with feeling {frankie drabble}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: flirting with a stranger, language, kissing, suggestive language

A/N: this was a fun little drabble for the fic title prompt game submitted by the lovely @burntheedges

drabble masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It started off as a chance encounter at the convenience store. Picking up a prescription and a bag of sour gummy candies. But of course your wallet hadn’t been inside the chaos of your purse. The cards hadn’t been rattling around amid the pens, gum wrappers, scraps of paper with lists, or the lighter that had somehow ended up in there either.

“Shit.”

The cashier rolls her eyes, popping a large bubble she had just blown out from the wad of gum in her mouth. An arched brow her silent judgement.

“I don’t have my wallet.”

“Okay.” She begins to slid the items away before a figure closed in on your right side.

“I’ll cover it,” A deep voice rumbled and you turned to meet a pair of startlingly wide brown eyes. They were set in the face of a handsome man. Your own roved over him, from the patchy scruff lining his jaw, the plush set of lips set under a thick moustache, the curls tamped down and curling around a cap tight over his head, the aviators slung in the collar of his grey t-shirt. But what really stole your breath away was the toothy grin he was flashing at you as he set down the items in his arms and reached to retrieve his worn wallet from a back pocket. “Gummies are an essential, can’t let ya go without them.”

Another bubble popping startled you, making you realize you hadn’t said anything in response. With a chuckle the man was gently corralling you away from the debit machine, a card between his thick fingers. He swiped it, nodding his head to the cashier as she held out two different plastic bags for the man to take.

“Thank you, that was very kind of you-“

“Fransisco, but Frankie is just fine.” He held out a hand, the bag with your items in it. You took it as you walked along side him out the sliding doors. You offered your name along with a thankful smile. All too aware of the large hoodie you had thrown on over a pair of shorts in your rush out the door. You only lived across the street, but of course you would run into a stunning man on your put off and then rushed errand.

“No problem at all.” He didn’t move toward the parking lot and neither did you, both rooted close enough to catch the scent of each other’s perfume and cologne. You could feel his eyes watch you as you tore into the bag of gummies, twin cherries. You held the open bag out to him as you brough one up to your lips. He smirked as he brought one to his own mouth.

“Cherries, that your thing? Cause you smell like ‘em and I bet you taste like ‘em too, now.” An eyebrow raised, though it was anything but a judgment like it had been on the cashier’s face. It was a flirty challenge and you couldn’t help the pull of your lips to match his energy.

“I dunno, why don’t you find out?” You swallowed, the candy sweet on your tongue and tangy. Your breath hitched, betraying your nerves as he reached a hand out to gently hold the back of your head and pull you toward him. His lips were plush against yours, so soft and faintly flavored from the candy. He didn’t try to push it past a chaste connection, pulling back after a few seconds.

“Mmm, seems like I need to do a little more research.”

“Seems like you do.” The flimsy handles of the bag slid down to the crook of your elbow as you reached up to cup his face. Leaning in, you kisses him with more intention. Allowing for him to lick into your mouth, licking the flavor from you as if he was starving and it was hist first taste of food in a long while.

You hummed, pulling him closer to feel the front of his body pressed up against your own, his hands going around the small of your back. Pleasure pooled in your middle, lighting you up as you stood in front of the convenient store and shared kisses with a beautiful stranger.

Sharing a breath, his fingers twitched around you as your lashes fluttered. His eyes were already watching when you opened them back up.

“Cherries were always my favorite.” He kissed you again and somehow you knew it would lead to a cherry frosted cake and the sharing of vows.

#dev writes #drabble #fic titles #prompt challenge #writing exercise #writing game #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales fanfiction

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indiaalphawhiskey · 8 months

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fake title: almost tethered

💋 Almost Tethered

This was, by far, the longest and most awkward silence in the history of mankind, and yet, Louis couldn’t, for the life of him, think of a single thing to say.

Because, really, what was he supposed to say?

He knew fuck all about the man sitting casually on his chaise in a frieghteningly sexy brown duck jumper, except that he had been crazy enough to agree to a threesome with Louis and his fiancé to help spice up their already very extended engagement (that every single person they loved was still waiting for them to call off).

Well, okay, Louis didn’t know ‘fuck all’ exactly. He knew he had a face that was a little too pretty to be true (so much so that Louis had bet Robbie they were being catfished and was now down £20), that he was probably making an obscenely (heh) good living if his (surprisingly tasteful, only-strategically-posed-artful-nudes) OnlyFans page had anything to say about it, and that his actual real name was Harry Styles.

So, Louis knew some things (four, he knew a total of four things), none of which he could use to fill this rather excruciating silence. Lovely.

It didn’t help that Harry hadn’t said a thing to him either since walking through their door – not that he could have, what with the way Robbie had bulldozed through the introductions before swiftly exiting to make everyone martinis.

(“Do you even know how to make a martini?” Louis had asked as they were getting dressed that evening.

Robbie had waved off his very pressing concern. “I’ll Google it. Wine just seems a little too pedestrian for a threesome, you know?”)

Louis began to roll his eyes at the memory but quickly aborted the motion, worried Harry might think it was directed at him. He reverted back to their mutual staring, though, admittedly whilst Louis was sure his expression was similar to that of a frightened raccoon, Harry’s was painfully cool. Collected and poised. Almost serene. Unbothered.

His smirk was soft; green eyes kind yet still somewhat appraising. Louis supposed he couldn’t help it, given their, ah, agenda for the evening. He actually found himself hoping Harry liked what he saw.

Louis certainly did; found himself wondering if it would be appropriate to lick at the swallows tattooed on Harry’s collarbones, or if that was more of a second session kind of thing.

Would there be a second session? Likely not, since the entire point of doing this with a stranger was to avoid all the awkwardness afterwards. (Which said nothing of the awkwardness during.)

He was overthinking and needed to stop, immediately.

God, say something! Louis commanded himself, unable to remember the last time he blinked. As had become habit since his engagement, his hand drifted down to fiddle with the watch he wore with a fierce kind of loyalty on his right wrist. His mind drifted to three words hidden under the expensive leather strap – his accidental life mantra, bestowed upon him by fate.

He thought of how the curve of capital D swooped, how the N had always been a little crooked, how he had learned the cursive version of an S before he could even write or read.

How Robbie hadn’t said the words when they’d met.

How, because of that, his family thought this engagement had been doomed from the start.

How Harry still hadn’t said anythi—

“Don’t be nervous.”

Louis’ answer was automatic, almost involuntary, because he’d been saying it in mock response all his life. “I’m not.”

Needless to say, the next time Louis found himself staring awkwardly back at Harry Styles, it was not because of their impending threesome. It was because said third in their impending threesome had just uttered his soulmark.

— Or, there were a multitude of awkward ways to meet one’s soulmate. They could say your mark from the urinal next to you mid-wee at a funeral, or sneaking out of your flatmate’s bedroom after a one night stand, or trying to upsell the newest state-of-the-art dildo in their family-owned sex shop.

Still, Louis was pretty sure his version was the one that took the cake.

#iaw ask #iaw anonymous #fake fic titles #fake fic meme #sorry I keep doing these #they’re just a lot of fun #iaw drabbles #almost tethered

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jjungkookislife · 3 months

Note

Title game!! "That's my girl"

That's My Girl

pairing: dilf!jungkook x f. reader

warnings: none?

Jungkook normally didn't bring work home. He was an A-list baker in the city and he liked to keep his home life separate but things changed when his five-year-old daughter begged him to make you, her nanny, a birthday cake.

Despite your insistence that you didn't need it, Jungkook waved you off and invited you over to his home on your birthday. He had given you the day off, but you didn't have plans. Your family lived too far away and your friends had dropped off their gifts and assured you they'd see you at your birthday party on the weekend. So you were on your own until then.

Besides, you couldn't pass up a day spending time with Jungkook and his daughter, Sooyun.

It was no secret to anyone that Sooyun liked to play matchmaker. She had formed several plans with her Uncle Jimin to get you and her dad together. This was just one of those plans, and perhaps it was working.

Jungkook hums as he sets the cake on the island. Sooyun asks to be picked up and settled next to her father as you take his other side. You lean in close to see what he'll do next, and you smell his cologne which makes you nearly moan. You bite your lip and take a step back to give him some room and yourself a chance to collect yourself.

Jungkook smiles at you as he reaches for the icing he made. "Would you like me to make your cake for your party as well?"

You flounder. You had invited Jungkook to your party, not expecting him to accept, much less ask if you wanted him to bake your cake. His cakes and confections were heaven on earth. Outside of this moment, you knew you couldn't afford to even look at one of his cakes, much less have one for your party.

"Yes," you nod, clapping as Sooyun joins you.

"It'll be the best cake ever! Right, Daddy?" Sooyun asks as she watches Jungkook drizzle the chocolate over the cake. He helps Sooyun stand on the stool and hands her a piping bag once the chocolate sets.

"Of course, princess," Jungkook instructs his daughter on how to pipe little swirls on the cake, grinning proudly when she does it successfully. "That's my girl!"

Sooyun cheers as she hands the piping bag back to her father and asks you for help getting down from the stool.

His daughter takes off from the kitchen, no longer interested in the cake as she hears the theme song to her favorite show coming from the TV in the living room.

"Want to try?" Jungkook asks you as he holds up the piping bag. You nod as you approach him, gently taking the bag and smiling when your fingers brush his. He smiles as you try and make a swirl but fail.

"I'm horrible," you pout as you stare at the misshapen swirl next to his and Sooyun's.

Laughing softly, Jungkook shakes his head. His fluffy hair covers his eyes for a moment before he shakes it out of the way.

"Like this," Jungkook stands beside you, his arms going around you and his hands placed over yours as he leans forward to help you make the perfect swirl. "It's all in the wrist."

Slowly, Jungkook pulls his hands away to give you a chance to do it on your own. You're cautious as you make the attempt, breathing in slowly as you make the perfect swirl.

Jungkook smiles brightly at your achievement. His excitement gets the better of him as he kisses your cheek. You feel heat rush to your skin as you meet his gaze. Your eyes flit to his lips and back. Jungkook cups your face as he leans in, giving you enough time to move away but you don't.

His lips press to yours in a soft kiss that leaves you breathless. Your lips move in sync as he gets more confident when you kiss him back, softly moaning before he pulls away.

Jungkook's gaze is heated as he looks at you. His heart skips a beat as he takes in your beautiful expression. This time, you lean in for another kiss, knowing this is the best birthday you've ever had.

#fic title game #jjungkookislife fic title game #jungkook drabble #dilf!jungkook #dad!jungkook #jungkook x reader insert

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rachelsquill · 9 months

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His Gay Ass is NOT Stargazing!!!

Quackity and Wilbur stood atop the Las Nevadas Needle. Quackity was gazing at the beautiful night sky above them, but Wilbur’s gaze wandered elsewhere.

He found himself observing the man beside him.

How long had it been since they put aside their petty squabbles and were at peace with one another? And what’s more is that for Wilbur that peace had developed into a sort of fondness, maybe even more than a fondness.

Wilbur’s heart tugged as he stared at the man next to him. His beanie that he never seemed to leave home without was crooked on his head. His long hair was darker than the night sky. His golden wings shone brighter than all the stars in the sky. The more he observed the man before him the more his heart ached. He sucked up his pride and rested his hand upon the shorter man’s hand, an invitation for more.

“Wilbur, have you ever danced with someone?” He asked, still gazing at the sky.

Memories flashed across Wilbur’s vision. He recalled dancing in L’manberg beside the fire with Niki, Tommy, and Fundy while Tubbo and Jack sang a song of freedom. He remembered a spark of joy amidst the sadness in Pogtopia when he and Tommy dragged Techno from his potato farm and danced to their heart's content. He thought in fondness about dancing on the beach in Logsteadshire with Tommy. He realized that dancing had always been a time when he felt alive.

“Wil?”

Wilbur snapped from his pleasant thoughts and looked at Quackity, who was gazing at him expectantly.

“Why? Are you offering me a dance?” He asked with a grin.

“Maybe I am…” He extended a hand out to Wilbur. “Only if you’ll have me.”

Wilbur takes the hand offered to him.

The dance is slow and sweet. Wilbur rests his head on Quackity’s shoulder letting him lead the dance.

Wilbur feels alive.

#tntduo #tntduo fic #wilbur soot #quackity #quackbur #dream smp #i don't know what to tag this #i don't typically write things but I wanted to share this lil drabble #also idk what to title it it kinda stemmed from the image in my pinned sooo #rachel writes #< new tag I guess

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branches-of-time · 2 years

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I Lost a Friend

“Something’s bothering you, Venti.”

His eyes dart to your reflection in the left corner of the mirror and they stay on you for a long moment. He still doesn’t blink. His lips are pressed together in a stoic, straight line. He parts them, and speaks.

“Barbatos.”

His eyes flick back to their prior position, glaring back into his reflection.

“It’s Barbatos. No one-" he pauses for a moment, seemingly searching his face for something recognizable and failing to find it, “-no one else.”

Pairing: Venti x Reader - Established Relationship

Word Count: 2,120

Synopsis: You come home to a mess and a very upset God crying in your bathroom.

Contains: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Reverse Comfort, Drinking, Identity Issues, Crying, somebody pls give this sad bard a hug

A/N: ehehe here’s a little #ventober drabble that I got slightly (very) carried away with

prompts from @ LunASMR_Voice on Twitter

Days 1 (Wine) & 16 (Friend)

When you first materialized in your serenitea pot, you noticed it immediately. All of the trees were completely bare. Like a tornado had ripped right through and took every single leaf and twig along with it. You knew it couldn’t have been from the natural falling of leaves that happens this time of year, it’s not like trees drop all of their leaves at once, and even so- the leaves aren’t on the ground either. They’re just gone. Not to mention, so is half of the outdoor furniture. Either tipped over, blown across the yard or just plain missing, it really looked like the aftermath of a storm out here.

Now, the only person allowed inside your teapot that would be capable of making a mess such as this would be Venti, however, knowing that still doesn’t settle your nerves all that much. This isn't normal. It’s quite unlike him to behave like this… unless something has really upset him. Regardless, you take a deep breath and make your way in through the doors of your shared home intent on asking him why it looked like a storm rolled through the teapot.

You call out to Venti as you step inside, but instead of a response you’re greeted with dead silence. No music playing, no singing, nothing at all. Save for the panting of one of your several dogs that followed you in through the front door.

Odd. Venti isn’t the type to just sit in complete silence very often. Even when he’s sleeping, he always leaves soft music playing in the background, almost as if he’s trying to avoid the silence.

You make your way into the kitchen, and begin to catch on to what must have happened here while you were out. Six empty bottles of various wines sit scattered around on the counter, and a seventh bottle has obviously been smashed to pieces on the floor. Venti doesn’t really drop things on accident. He’s got reflexes like a cat. Besides, there’s no wine on the floor, just glass.

It doesn’t take long for you to put two and two together and realize that a particular type of storm really must have rolled through.

You find him in the bathroom. There’s no way he didn’t notice you opening the door, but he makes no move to acknowledge your presence either. You take in his appearance. Hair hanging loose and messy where his braids have fallen out. The tips are glowing, just like his eyes and his archon marks are. Well, what you can see of them from between the parted fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, at least. They fade from a bright blue to a soft teal, in and out along with his breathing.

He seems half dressed, his vision, cape, corset, hat and accessories all gone. Standing with his back to you in just his shorts and shirt, you can see his tense expression in the mirror. He’s obviously had a bad day. His thin fingers are gripping the edge of the counter so hard you were surprised that it wasn’t crumbling underneath the force. Though, as usual, even when pushed to his breaking point, he was never one to forget his own strength. Not nowadays, at least.

He didn’t like having to use it, didn’t like it when others would look at him in fear after seeing even a fraction of what he’s truly capable of, so he keeps it reigned in. Tries to make himself look the least imposing he can. He wants to appear approachable. Friendly, warm, and safe. He usually does his best to mirror the way his friend had always carried himself, and tonight he seems to be having trouble doing that. He’s upset about something, that much is obvious… and you know him well enough to know that he’s not letting himself feel it. Not fully.

You attempt to break the staring contest he’s having with himself in the mirror. It’s a little off-putting, honestly, given the fact that he can go a concerning amount of time without blinking. Or moving.. at all. Standing here in the bathroom, as still as any one of the statues carved in his image that decorate the peaks and valleys of the City of Freedom. He’s actually kind of unsettling when he’s angry, and you’re willing to bet that’s exactly what he’s mad about in the first place. He doesn’t like himself like this.

You’re not truly afraid of him, though. Never have been. Venti has never once raised so much as a single hand against you in anger. You can’t even recall the last time he raised his voice around you. He doesn’t want anyone to see him when he’s upset… when he’s angry. Least of all, you. But you’ll be damned if you’re going to just walk away and let him try and deal with these emotions on his own. He’s had to do that for long enough. You’re here now and you’re going to do what you can to help him work through this.

You try to keep your voice as soft and gentle as you can when you break the silence.

“Something’s bothering you, Venti.”

“Barbatos.”

His eyes flick back to their prior position, glaring back into his reflection.

“It’s Barbatos. No one-" he pauses for a moment, seemingly searching his face for something recognizable and failing to find it, “-no one else.”

Just like you suspected, he’s struggling with his identity again tonight. It doesn’t happen often these days but it certainly does still happen. Your heart aches for him every time, watching him look upon his own form with such disdain. You attempt to talk him down.

“Okay… that’s okay.”

You make your way further into the bathroom and lean back against the door frame.

“Then, Barbatos, is there any particular reason you’re not Venti tonight, love?”

He closes his eyes and lets his head quickly drop forward to press his forehead against the mirror. The impact sounds like it hurt but if it does he doesn’t show it.

“I can’t be Venti. Not tonight. Not when I’m like… this.”

He takes a deep breath, and it comes out shaky like he’s trying to steady himself. When he turns around and looks up at you, you notice the pale blue tear tracks running down over the apples of his cheeks, and you feel a pain in your chest. There are few sights more upsetting than looking your very own God dead in the eyes and watching them cry. It’s.. it’s painful. Seeing how much he’s struggling to keep himself together. You want to rush towards him, wrap him up in your embrace and put the pieces of him back together. You also want to give him space if that’s what he needs right now. So you settle for something in between. You cross the floor and hold out a hand, giving him an invitation, a choice- and watch as he takes yours in his and starts tracing the lines across your palm, trying to calm himself enough to speak. His breathing is so unsteady, like he’s holding back tears.

“I can’t disrespect his memory by behaving so recklessly. It’s not becoming of anything that he stood for. He wanted freedom, and I loved him so much that his dreams became my own. He died fighting for it, for this future of free will and peace, and what did I do? I created myself in his very image and kept fighting. I rearranged the very earth with the power that came from my grief. I took life. I… I took many lives. Everything I’ve done since… I did it all in his image.”

Guilt is a hell of an emotion, with its way of eating away at you from the inside.

He’s still tracing the lines across your palm, over and over like he’s trying to memorize them. It’s easier for him to speak this honestly when he has something else to focus on. You slowly bring your other hand up and begin to ghost it along his arm, from shoulder down to wrist and then back up again. His thoughts continue to spill out.

“I have a very bad feeling that he wouldn’t be very proud of the things I’ve done. I mean- it’s been so long, how can I even be sure that he wouldn’t hate the person I’ve become? I was a wisp when he knew me, and now I’m this God that’s done so many things in the name of freedom that I just… I-I don’t know if the ends justified the means.”

He looks up and to the side, still unable to meet your gaze, and you watch fresh turquoise tears pool in his eyes.

“What if I could have done things differently? What if I had thought clearer… and taken more careful, controlled steps on the journey to freedom? How many lives could I have saved from becoming casualties of the storms I created? What if…”

His voice cracks on the last word and you pray that he doesn’t notice the tears threatening to fall from your own eyes. He takes one more shaky breath and looks directly up, speaking his final question to the heavens as much as to you.

“What if all that I am is a storm?”

Feeling something akin to relief from the weight of his long-unspoken worries being lifted now that he’s voiced them, he lets himself fall forward into you and you immediately reach out to catch him. He cries into your shoulder, and you bring one arm down to circle around his waist. Your other hand reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, keeping him as close to you as possible. You don’t even need to think to find your response, the words sitting ready on your tongue, waiting to spill out the moment you part your lips.

“Barbatos, you are the breeze that carries dandelion seeds across Mondstadt, imbued with the hopes and prayers of your children. You were the constant updraft that kept me from falling when we fought Stormterror. You dry the clothes hanging out on the lines. You keep the windmills turning in their perpetual motion. Cecilias can only grow on the cliffs where your energy blows freely, without restraint. You are the oxygen that fuels the life-saving campfires that burn on Dragonspine. You bring love, and the scent of apple blossoms towards the city in the spring. You are the warm gusts of summer air that wrap around every single traveler that steps foot into this land, letting them know that they are welcome here. You are the soft whisper in the fall breeze that tells every single child of yours upon returning to Mondstadt that they are safe, and that they are home now. You carry the passionate voices of the bards performing in the street. You have carried the voices of every single citizen of this nation when they cried out for freedom.”

You have to pause and take a deep breath of your own, running your hand up and down his back, slowly, gently trying to calm both of yourselves down. He holds you tighter. His crying has slowed to a halt, nothing more than a soft and quiet whine of protest emitting from him in response to your honest words.

You aren’t so presumptuous as to think that your words can completely lift the centuries of guilt that he carries, but you’re sure as hell going to try. Over and over, no matter how many times he needs to hear it, you will be there to remind him of all of the good that continues to exist in this world because of him. To remind him that he is so, so much more than the storms he has created.

You break the silence that has fallen over the two of you once again.

“Can you look at me for a moment, love?”

Pulling back just enough to slip your hand under his chin, he doesn't resist when you gently guide him to look at you. You wipe a stray tear from his cheek.

Catching his gaze, you hold it. Neither of you blink as his watery, blue eyes look up and meet yours.

God, you wish he could see himself the way you see him. He's something far beyond holy to you.

“Barbatos, you are not just a storm. My love… you are the wind.”

#venti #venti x reader #genshin impact #ventober #lunasmr #genshin #venti genshin impact #venti genshin x reader #genshin venti #genshin fic #venti fanfic #venti angst #venti comfort #genshin drabbles #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #title is from the song of the same name by FINNEAS #obviously #this is just me shamelessly projecting my desires to comfort Venti #is this even appealing to read to anyone else i have no clue #my target audience is me. if u like this then congrats we are the same. how's the Venti fixation going #this is more angst than comfort isn't it #why do i always do this #Weinlesefest really did a number on me. emotional damage. but also new inspiration for fics so. it's ok #anyways aaaaaaa my first post here. lmao will this even show up in the tags. lets find out.

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shmothman · 11 months

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hands (put your empty hands in mine)

vash x reader drabble (rated g, 550 words)

Scarred from wrist to fingertip—just like the rest of him—Vash’s hands are never anything but gentle and careful when they wrap around yours. All of him is careful with you, often borderline treating you as if you’re fragile, but can you blame him when human life so often is? It’s only out of love for you; out of fear that you’ll be ripped away from him. Still, he can’t bear to hold on too tight. The guilt (of putting you in danger just by keeping you close) is something he’ll never fully be able to escape, but it’s something you can help lessen, with patience and love and the constant reminder that he is deserving.

At first, even just holding your hand is nearly enough to make him cry. He’s denied himself a great many things over the past hundred and thirty years—affection chief among them—and accepting it now is difficult, even when it’s something he wants more than anything else. Give him some time to get used to it; he’ll be seeking it out constantly before long. Your hand in his becomes an anchor, a comfort, a reminder that you’re here and you’re real and he isn’t alone anymore. You’re nothing short of a miracle, to him.

Though, of course, he gets nervous, especially in the beginning—his hand sweaty and trembling as he gives you a wobbly grin; he might even give you his prosthetic hand to hold (although any other time he favors the other) to keep you from seeing just how nervous he is. Not that you can’t tell. You know him too well for that. He’ll be even more awestruck when you take his right hand anyway, interlacing your fingers with his and giving him a squeeze of reassurance. You don’t mind if his palm is a little bit sweaty. Yours is too.

Not to say that you shy away from his left hand: though the metal gets far too hot to hold beneath the desert suns, it cools in the evening like everything else, and you can sit with him, tracing the nicks and scuffs of it. He doesn’t have much feeling in it, but watching you draw mindless patterns against it makes his heart sing. Still, the fact that it’s a weapon makes him hesitant to touch you with it; he wishes he could keep that part of himself away from you entirely. You coax him out of that melancholy every time, though—especially when you take it and press it to your cheek, swearing the coolness of it feels like heaven.

One surefire way to get him to melt is to brush your lips over his knuckles, or even better, press a kiss to his open palm when he goes to cup your cheek. He’s always red-faced around you, but when you give him such open adoration, your lips against the calluses he’s acquired in all his years as a gunslinger, he lights up like a roman candle, pink to the tips of his ears. (And if you compliment his hands? If you tell him how safe and loved they make you feel? How you love that he chooses to use them for good? For love and peace? Vash has long since decided that he’s yours forever, but this only cements that fact tenfold.)

#i just... wanted to write about his hands #consider this a tideover since this fic is taking so long #in my defense it's gonna be at LEAST 8k. and its a oneshot.#self indulgent on main #not that everything i write isn't self indulgent #i just love him so much. i want to give him all the love.#forgive me for rachel platten song lyric title in 2023 but it just fits him so well #thinking about just doing a drabble series based on the full lyrics tbh #sef writes #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #trigun #tristamp #x reader #fanfic

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gwaedhannen · 3 months

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The Way I Fly to You

Arm over arm. Hook the elbow. Lift. Grab the next rung. Lift. Step by step. Two rungs with each left. Lift. One with each right. Lift. Do not look down. The Light is above. It calls. It is worth it. It must be. Lift.

Almost there. Alm— oh.

“Hullo, kinsman! Before you think of climbing the rest of the ladder, I’d like to point out that it’s easily detachable from the deck, and the ground is a considerable way down. Now, I do believe you owe my wife and me several apologies?”

“Honk!”

Maedhros really should have thought this through.

#silmarillion #the silmarillion #tolkien #silm fic #maedhros #earendil #elwing #drabble #stormwritten #in which Maedhros tries to go for a different Silmaril at the end of the War #why yes that title is a Snake Eater reference #Elwing is currently a goose and about to make it a kinslayer's problem #Earendil and Elwing: obeying the letter of the Doom but not the spirit since F.A. 542

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player1064 · 24 days

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Since you mentioned liking fake dating AUs, could I request a fake dating Carraville AU, anyway you want? Love your request fics! <3

this one got.... longer than usual. As in it's 6k words long and I CANNOT call that a drabble or a ficlet or whatever so I've posted it as it's own thing.... enjoy!

Getting away with it by player1064

Jamie Carragher/Gary Neville Jamie says something stupid and lands himself in hot water. Gary's there to (very reluctantly) help him out.

#my favourite part about writing drabbles is that i dont have to COME UP WITH TITLES #titles my BEHATED #anyway #carraville #carraville fic #is that a tag people use? no idea! we'll use it anyway

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princessmisery666 · 9 months

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For make up title game: "I Would Do Anything For Love.... Including That"

Rick Flag x Reader.

Not beta’d. posted from my phone sorry if formatting is off.

You're pouting, full on toddler pouting because you think it will help sway Rick’s decision.

Rick knows he’s going to agree, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you, including what you’ve asked of him, despite the shit he knows he’ll get from Task Force X. But it will be worth every joke he receives because he likes the way you beg. The imploring tone you use, pressing your body against his, running your hands up and down the exposed skin of his arm, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. It sets him ablaze and he has to swallow down a groan.

If that weren’t enough to make him agree he especially loves that in order to get what you want you bribe him, offering him something he wants in exchange for something he’d do for free because he just wants to spend time with you.

“So I wear this to the movies?” Examining the multicoloured hoodie, “and you’ll come to the weapons seminar with me?” He asks, setting out the deal.

“Yes,” you say, looking up at him from under your lashes. “I promise.”

He’s getting the better half of the deal, spending eight hours giving lectures to rent a cops and then spending his evenings with you in exchange for him wearing a piece of clothing and sitting through a movie.

He sighs, faking that it’s an inconvenience but it’s really not. “Fine.”

“Yay,” you squeal, jumping up and kissing his cheek, “you're the best.” You skip toward the locker room, excitement not allowing you to keep your feet on the ground.

Rick watches you go, sighing sadly this time, “I love you.”

Though he’s not sure you haven’t already figured it out, maybe he’ll find the courage to tell you that soon. For now he’ll keep showing you, the best way he knows how.

Made up fic titles.

#rick flag #made up fic titles #colonel rick flag x reader #rick flag x reader #colonel rick flag #dc #Drabble #rick flag Drabble #suicide squad #the suicide squad

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ameliagiovanna0 · 1 year

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Feel Your Kiss On Me

Title from For You by Liam Payne and RIta Ora

Requested by @whiskeyloverbae , thank you! 💕

“Tim has a hickey and he thinks it’s hidden by his collar but Angela calls him out on it. “

“Lucy!” Tim called from the bathroom.

“What?” Lucy returned, coming around the corner from her bedroom.

He couldn’t help but rake his eyes over her in the kimono and sleep shorts she wore, her hair wound messily on top of her head.

He grumbled, remembering he was trying to be pissed at her, and gestured to his neck and the purplish mark forming there.

“Oops,” she posited, but the mischievous grin that spread across her features betrayed her.

“Lucy, we have work today! What am I supposed to do with this?”

“I’ll go put a spoon in the freezer,” she tucked her lips between her teeth, trying to suppress her laughter.

Lucy rounded the corner once again, wrapping her arms around his waist as he dragged a razor through the shaving cream on his face.

She pressed her lips to his bare back, “You adding to the mess you’ve created?”

She smiled against his skin, “I wasn’t planning on it, but now that you mention it,” she chortled as she nipped at his shoulder.

“Luce!” he tried not to laugh, trying desperately to be mad at her, “We share a locker room!”

“Oh, like it’s the first time one of you’s had a mark.”

“It’s a hickey, Luce. I have a reputation.”

He tapped the razor in the sink before turning around in her arms to her raised eyebrow, “We both know that went out the window when you met me.”

“You’re impossible,” he said as his hand found the sides of her face.

Tim wore a collared shirt into the station, forgoing his usual henley in hopes of hiding the mark his girlfriend left the night before, the frozen spoon not doing much to dull the offensive color. He put his white undershirt on and then uniform top on as fast as humanly possible, hoping none of the other officers noticed. He adjusted the collar in the mirror on the inside of his locker door and hoped it would stay in place all day.

“I should’ve starched these,” he complained to himself.

He left the locker room, seemingly unscathed. Angela asked him to see her when he came in for the day, so he made his way to her desk with two cups of coffee.

“Ange,” he set her cup in front of her.

“Hey, she greeted, “Thanks. The name Dennis Rand ring any bells?”

“Jesus,” he groaned as he balanced his arm on his duty belt.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes?’”

“I’ve arrested him maybe ten times over the years. Why?”

“He managed to get invol–”

Tim turned his head at the sound of glass shattering on the other side of the bullpen.

“Damnit, Smitty!” Angela barked before he even made it into her field of view.

“I’m sorry! It just slipped out of my hands!”

“Clean it up! That’s the third one this week!” she finally braved a glance at the mess of broken porcelain and coffee on the floor.

Angela looked up, Tim’s head still pulled in the direction of Smitty dejectedly slinking toward the janitor’s closet.

“Timothy…”

His body stiffened as she stood up. It was never good when she used his full name.

He turned toward her, “Yes, Angela?”

She pinched the collar of his shirt, pulling it away from his body and laughing like a maniac. He rolled his eyes at her antics.

“Tim,” she managed to get out between snorts, “Is that a hickey?”

“I’m going to kill her,” he griped.

Angela simply laughed harder, nearly doubling over, having to brace herself with a hand on the edge of her desk.

“Are you done?” he asked when she managed to stand up straight again.

“Oh, no. Not even close.”

“You two have fun last night?” She giggled again, “Oh, lemme guess. You bet on who could list the most penal codes in sixty seconds, and this was your punishment for losing?”

“No, wait! Lucy decided that she’d had enough of other women hitting on you, so she finally decided to do something about it?”

Tim blushed. This is not the conversation he’d envisioned for his Monday morning.

“No, no, I got it. Were you misbehaving?”

“I have work to do,” he turned to walk away.

“No, Tim, wait!” she tried not to laugh again.

He turned around only long enough to flip her the bird.

“Your life would be so boring without me!”

He shook his head, a reluctantly amused smile on his face as he made his way to his office. He kind of hated her for it, but it was just Angela’s way of showing affection.

Sitting behind his own desk, Tim placed his coffee down when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

A: Dennis Rand, asshole. I needed info

T: Maybe you shouldn’t have made fun of me then

A: whatever, I’ll just ask Lucy. Among other things 😁

T: I hate you both

A: You love us

Tim shot a text off to the woman in question.

T: in case you didn’t hear the cackling coming from the bullpen, Angela found the monstrosity you left on my neck

T: Maybe I should return the favor tonight

L: don’t threaten me with a good time bradford

He chuckled, setting his phone down.

This was going to be a long day.

#i know most people don't title drabbles #but i wanted to #it keeps me organzied #this is essentially a crack fic #it made me giggle #the rookie #chenford #chenford fic #chenford fanfic #chenford fanfiction #lucy chen #tim bradford #angela lopez #quigley smitty #amelia’s requests ✉#i may or may not post this on ao3 #ameliagiovanna writes

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indiaalphawhiskey · 7 months

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fake fic title! "crescent moons fix broken hearts"

would love it if it could be hl? 👀

Sorry this took so long! I really needed to write something today to flex the muscle, I hope you and @awesomefringey (who submitted the t-shirt pic) like it. 🥰 (I tried to post this twice with a moodboard but Tumblr wouldn’t let me. 😒)

🌙 Crescent Moons Fix Broken Hearts

Sitting in the en suite of the lavish hotel room, the soft lighting of the vanity illuminating the planes of his face, Harry let the radical irony of what he was about to do wash over him.

It was a weird thing, he realized, this feeling of waiting for a moment your entire life – preserving it, building it up – only to have it finally, finally come in a form so different it was almost laughable.

Not almost. Harry did laugh.

Half because he caught sight of his ridiculously nervous expression in the mirror, and half because apparently, one minute someone could be the perfect pure, virginal (if a little sexually frustrated) Omega groom-to-be fitting their bespoke wedding suit in at a highly exclusive designer shop, and three days later, be that very same Omega, revenge and wildly expensive tequila shooting through their veins as they booked their would-have-been honeymoon suite to have raunchy sex with an Alpha they’d hired specifically to finally deflower them, once and for all.

Turns out getting dumped in a Saville Row dressing room because one’s ex-fiancé thought they were quote, “an uppity, frigidly cold fish who he probably had no sexual chemistry with anyway”, unquote, really lit a fire under one’s arse.

Harry flared his nose in anger, his thoughts murderous as images of his beautiful, wasted wedding invitations danced back into his mind, haunting him. His cheeks began their now familiar pinkening with his remembered humiliation, and then…

A soft knock unfortunately interrupted Harry’s montage of fantastic daydreams of running over every single one of his ex-fiancé’s prized watches to the intro of Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song.

“Come in,” he called out gently – or as gently as one could through gritted teeth.

As the door slid away, the unfamiliar, unassuming coolness of rosemary and sage rolled in slowly. Harry wasn’t used to it; accustomed to sharing spaces with the scent of warm whiskey and leather layered with that wretchedly expensive cologne Harry had always hated.

But back to the sage.

Sage, and rosemary, and cedar, and… he let the last note tickle his nose as he tried to name it.

“Are you okay?” Louis Tomlinson asked.

… and soap, Harry realized, oddly comforted even as he wondered whether the name was a pseudonym; wondered if it was standard procedure to print such a convincing alias on a discreet calling card that would eventually be passed across an elegant brunch table at the Dorchester.

(‘Niall, don’t be absurd,’ Harry had sniffed, trying his best to push the card back towards him without making a scene. ‘Jesus, just be normal and introduce me to one of your investment bankers, or something.’

Niall had given him a long, silent, and completely unimpressed look in response, glancing down at the engagement ring Harry was still wearing, if only to make a point. Ouch.

‘Harry, trust me. After this shitshow, you of all people deserve an orgasm on the first go. Treat yourself.’)

“I’m alright.” The polite platitude was out of his mouth accompanied by a reserved smile through the mirror before he could stop it.

It wasn’t like he could tell the truth anyway; not like he could say, ‘No, actually. I’m fucking livid, because a week ago I was about to be married, and today my financial manager called to ask if my credit card had been stolen because there was a suspicious charge from RoyaLT Enterprises for a ‘Platinum Package – All Inclusive’ on it when I was assured this service would be discreet, goddamnit!’

He bit his tongue, mostly because Harry didn’t tell Louis about the jilting; had decided against it the moment he had clicked ‘Platinum’, the description reading ‘two-week session with certified heat coach (Alpha) focused on scent familiarity, building sexual rapport, and discussing intimacy needs in addition to agreed heat cycle partnership.’

A virgin who had saved himself for marriage only to be jilted a week before his wedding because he was, in fact, a virgin, paying for sex and intimacy, trapped in a room with someone who really shouldn’t be as attractive as he had turned out to be… It had all just felt a little too humiliating.

Which, speaking of…

“Sorry,” Harry blurted out softly now, slowly coming to his senses. He turned to face Louis, his eyes widening. “We’re… we’re on the clock, aren’t we? Am I… I’m wasting your time?”

Louis chuckled softly – kindly, really – and casually leaned against the door frame, crossing his ankles. He was shirtless, Harry only now realized, as he watched him slip both hands into the pockets of his silk pajama bottoms, making them ride dangerously low against his happy trail.

Louis shook his head. “You’re supposed to take your time, get comfortable with me.” He raised his hand to gesture to himself – what he was wearing, and then the space between them. “This is all part of it.” He grinned wide, and Harry had noticed he was handsome when they’d met, but the genuine warmth of his smile is what made it. (Well, his smile, and his abs, and the still respectable but no less impressive hint of a bulge in his pajama bottoms…) “It’s called the boyfriend package for a reason.”

Funny, Harry thought then, feeling just a little bit… well, a little bit wet. He’d never had a boyfriend who looked quite like this.

Niall’s wise words began to reverberate in his mind: ‘Treat yourself.’

Harry bit back a cheeky smile. He intended to.

— Or, When Harry Styles did things, he did them right. Why should losing his virginity be any different?

#fake fic titles #fake fic #iaw drabbles #I just really needed to write something today #because I missed it

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