#v; just close your eyes // the sun is going down. // you’ll be alright // no one can hurt you now.

[anthologyoflucas]

Ilia was sitting on a bench at the park, looking over the file Dr. Sung left with her. She had to find someone who can help her and get these files to them so they knew what was going on and what Ilia was. She heard a car approaching and looked up, her eyes widening as she recognized the driver. Ilia quickly put the file away and slid her backpack on before starting to walk towards a crowd.

She knew they wouldn’t open fire on her or try to grab her with people around, they would do anything to avoid attention. The car was driving behind her, trying to follow and wait for an opportune moment to grab her. Ilia was trying to keep calm, everything inside her told her to panic and run, she watched the ground as she walked, tears stinging her eyes as she tried to focus on keeping her powers under control.

She heard a car door open and she bolted, running as fast as she could past as many people trying to get lost in the crowd. She let out a yelp as she ran into someone, falling back onto the ground as she looked up at the stranger, terrified.

#We're the authors of our lives. (Open rp) #the lab rat. (Ilia) #v; just close your eyes // the sun is going down. // you’ll be alright // no one can hurt you now.

[dollfacefantasy]

And If the Sun Comes Up

pairing: vampire!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon knows that you and him are meant to be. if the only way to show you that is to sneak in during the night, then that's just what he'll have to do.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, somnophilia, non-con, biting, blood, reader is tied up, spitting in mouth, overstimulation

word count: 4k

a/n: hey everyone. when he fucks u so good, u think u love him, am i right? i wanted to get one more done for halloween and i'm kinda late, but it's still halloween here so idgaf. i hope everyone enjoys. also i'm trying a new style with the header image so yeah. as always i really appreciate reblogs and comments <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz

i made a playlist of songs i listened to while writing here.

It’s the middle of the night with moonlight shining down through the slits in your blinds. You’re sleeping off a stressful week tonight. You lay between your soft blankets with your head resting on your cool pillow. You had been in a peaceful, dreamless slumber, but now whimpers erupted from your unconscious form as you felt a persistent sensation between your legs.

You still aren’t fully awake. Your eyes briefly flutter, and your hips shift, trying to alleviate the disturbance that was disrupting your rest. A long whine escapes your throat as cold hands wrap around the tops of your thighs and keep you in position.

You gasp softly as your mind struggles to differentiate dream from reality. When you try to close your legs, you’re met with resistance. You start to come to as your limbs tug more forcefully on whatever was keeping them spread. You could vaguely feel the sensation of restraints around your ankles. It’s difficult to see in the darkness of your bedroom, but you can hear something unfamiliar. Soft grunts and groans emanate from the bottom of your bed.

You weakly lift your head to figure out what was happening. Your eyes were still sleepy, and your mind was still fogged from returning to lucidity, but you could still recognize the sensation of someone lapping at your cunt like it was their final meal.

Looking down between your thighs, you see a mop of blonde hair. At first, the sight brings you mere confusion. It didn’t make sense, and you struggled to process it. But as the gears in your brain began sliding into place, terror coursed through your veins.

A strangled cry leaves your lips, and you thrash harder to get away. You realize your arms are bound too, connected together by your wrists that were secured at the level of your navel. The adrenaline in your system makes you much more alert. You could now see the long, toned body of this stranger. He wore tight, black clothing that allowed you to see his definition. His strength was obvious from that alone if you couldn’t already feel it from how he held you in place so easily.

Once he notices you’re awake, his head pops up. Your eyes widen as they connect with his piercing irises through the dark. Fear moves through you in sickening waves. Every cell in your body yearns for him to just get away.

“Shhh, sweet one. It’s alright,” he whispers. He rubs his fingertips on your inner thigh in an attempt to soothe you. His voice is husky yet familiar, and his eyes are glazed over with arousal. From what it looked like, he had been doing this for a while.

You don’t stop squirming. Your heart pounds so erratically that it feels like at any moment you’ll go into cardiac arrest. As your breathing picks up and becomes shallow, your cries become breathless. 

His brows furrow momentarily at your response, but then his expression softens. You felt like you recognized him, but you couldn’t be sure.

“My darling, there’s no reason to be afraid,” he says and presses a few small kisses to your thigh, “Calm yourself, my love. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You’re still so freaked out by the fact that this is even happening that your brain fails to formulate a response. You stare at him in horror as your squirming becomes weaker and your muscles begin to freeze out of fright.

“Good girl,” he whispers and caresses your hip, “This is for your pleasure, angel. Just relax. I know I may have startled you, but there’s no need to carry on.”

He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your clit causing you to softly yelp in both protest and pleasure. He chuckles and pulls his face back. His thumb begins lazily swiping through your folds, up and down. As soon as he cracks that smile, you’re able to place him.

“Leon?” you ask, your voice still raspy from sleep. Your drowsy mind couldn’t figure out why the man you’d seen only in passing at your job as a waitress was eating you out in your bedroom in the dead of night.

“Yes, beloved?” he answers, looking up at you with genuine curiosity as if nothing was off.

Now that you know the identity of your mysterious trespasser, your fear fades, and anger takes its place.

“Leon, what the fuck? What are you doing? And what are you doing here?” you say, your voice wavering. You try to stay focused and not let yourself be distracted by his thumb sliding around your slick. He doesn’t seem too fazed by your reaction.

“What does it look like I’m doing, pretty baby?” he whispers, “Making you feel good. You had a hard week, little doll. Let me make it better. Then I’ll explain.”

With that, he returns his head to the junction of your thighs. He parts his lips and begins making out with your pussy. Your eyes widen at his words, but the feeling of his tongue on your most intimate spot pushes your protests back down your esophagus. Instead, you whimper and take your lip between your teeth.

Erotic, wet noises from his lips and tongue working on your cunt spill out into the bedroom. Your cheeks heat with the shame of how good it felt, but there was really nothing you could do but take it. His tongue circles and laves at your clit with intense dedication before gliding down and fucking into your dripping hole.

His fingertips trace soothing circles onto the soft skin of your thighs while his mouth continues working you to the edge. He starts grunting again like he had been doing when you were sleeping. From the sounds alone, it seemed like he was getting as much pleasure from this as you. His breathing was heavy. You could feel it fanning across your pelvis.

You whine, your physical resistance dying down as release gets closer. You can feel his smug grin against your skin.

“L-Leon…” you stammer out through moans.

“Hush, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Let it feel good. Your body knows it’s right. It knows what you need.”

He flicks his tongue on your swollen bud a few more times before you come undone. You jerk and spasm against the restraints on your wrists and ankles. Broken whimpers fall from your lips as your head fogs with the euphoria of release.

He watches from below with wonder. “There you go, pretty girl,” he breathes while thumbing your clit, “Give it all to me. You don’t need to worry about anything else.”

You ride out your release on his tongue. When you finish up, you look down at him with half-lidded eyes. He continues to gaze up at you with a look of love, his pupils dilated and his chin covered with your arousal.

“Leon. Explain,” you say, trying to sound firm, but your voice was hazy from your release.

“Why so many questions, little one? Did that not feel good?” he asks, “Did that not feel like everything you needed?”

“Leon. What are you doing in my house at three in the fucking morning… touching me like that?” you say, your voice picking up some of the intensity you initially intended.

He sighs and shakes his head, but still sports that smug smile. “You’ll see in time, my love. I know you’ll feel it too,” he says.

My love. Those two words struck you like an itch you couldn’t scratch. All these weird pet names. You barely knew him. He was always nice to you, but in a cordial kind of way, remembering your name and little things you’d told him about your day when you gave him his order. You weren’t even friends. You definitely didn’t consider yourself to be his love.

“Feel what? What are you talking about? You sound crazy,” you say.

“You’re my mate, sweet one,” he responds. He looks at you as if it’s a fact and speaks as if this was the most normal conversation, like you weren’t tied up and nude from the waist down.

You blink at him in disbelief. The words ring through your mind.

“Your mate?” you repeat incredulously, the only response you could think of.

“My mate,” he confirms, “I know you can’t understand it now. But you will. I’ll-”

“I barely know you!” you raise your voice, “Just cause I smile at you and can remember your order that doesn’t mean I want to fuck you! And it sure as Hell doesn’t mean we’re mates.”

He remains calm as he continues to speak. “You may not know me, but I know you, sweetheart. I love you, but you aren’t the most observant. I’ve been watching, and I know we’re meant to be. I know it’s right for you.”

The thought of him watching you while you went about your life, clueless as ever, disturbed you to the pit of your stomach, but you tried not to let that show. 

“Oh my God, you’re delusional. Fucking delusional. You think we’re soulmates? Like what? Like we’re written in the stars or something?” you mock.

“No, darling. Not written in the stars. It’s written in our DNA, something tying us together. I can sense it. You have the sweetest smelling blood I’ve ever come across.”

Your eyes widen at his explanation.

“What… What are you talking about? You can’t smell my blood, Leon,” you say.

“If only I couldn’t, maybe then I wouldn’t have to do this,” he says, his voice growing more hushed, “But I can. You have to understand, little love. I’m not a man of normal appetites.”

The way he spoke freaked you out. Various horrific ideas ran through your head about what he meant by unusual appetites. Your anger was slowly exiting, and your fear was seeping back in. Your limbs tremble as you try again to pull yourself out of your bindings.

“Sweetheart, all throwing a tantrum will do is tire you out,” he chides, "And while it’s not required, I would prefer if you were conscious to see how good I can make you feel.”

“You’re fucking insane!” you exclaim with a shaky voice, tears of terror pricking at your eyes, “I don’t know what gave you this sick fantasy that we’re true love and meant to be or whatever. But that’s all it is. Leon, I-”

“Enough,” he says, his voice dropping to a more commanding tone, “If you’re not willing to understand, I’ll just have to make you more agreeable.”

With that, his mouth returns to your cunt. He sucks your clit between his lips and flicks his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. One hand holds your thigh like it was before while the other comes between your legs and prods at your entrance.

You’re whimpering in no time, still being tender from your previous release. Your hips squirm and writhe as he pumps two fingers in and out of you.

“Quit moving,” he growls and tightens his grip on your thigh.

The gravelly harsh tone lights the pool of arousal in your belly like a match falling into gasoline. You clamp around his fingers and mewl softly. A sharp exhale leaves his nose and smirks.

“Good baby, deep down you know you want this. You’ve only had my fingers so far, and she already knows to get nice and tight for me,” he breathes before returning his attention to your pussy.

His fingers continue working you open, scissoring inside your hole as they move back and forth. The whole time he relentlessly plays with your clit, flicking, sucking, circling. Short, strained cries come from you as your back arches off the bed.

“There we go, pretty baby. Cum again for me,” he purrs, “I doubt you’ve been with a guy who could make you cum even once.”

You didn’t even fully register his words because you were so wrapped up in the throes of ecstasy. Your body convulses as release washes over you again. You shiver in waves, whining and babbling as he continues pleasuring you through the high.

As you come down, he doesn’t ease up on you. His fingers tease you a bit before applying enough pressure to overstimulate you. He adds a third finger into you and continues maneuvering them skillfully, hitting all the right spots.

His mouth doesn’t stop either. He spits onto your pussy and dives back in, licking up your slick and flattening his tongue to massage you into bliss.

He brings you at least two more peaks, eating you out until your mind is nearly melted and you’re a whining, drooling, nonsensical mess.

When he finally feels that you’ve had enough, he moves up, coming face to face with you in a blur. You flinch at the quick movement, and draw a chuckle from him. His hand wraps around your throat while his eyes give you a predatory scan. He lowers his head to the crook of your neck and inhales deep.

“Smells like cherries,” he mutters before laying a few soft kisses up your neck and behind your ear.

You shiver at the gentle contact and a quiet whine escapes you. Your nipples are hard beneath your top from the countless highs he brought you and the fluttering of his lips against your skin. It’s not long before his other hand is sliding up your body to squeeze and fondle your breasts, his thumb teasingly swiping across the hardened buds a few times.

“I don’t need you to understand this, my love. I don’t expect you to. It’s a little out of your depth anyways,” he whispers and nips at your earlobe, “What I expect is for you to take it like a good girl and let me show you what you need. I think you can already see that you’ll be begging for more by the end of the night whether you understand it or not.”

Your thoughts are too muddled to formulate an actual response. Instead, you just watch him with your blissed out stare. He leans back and pulls off his shirt, exposing his muscular torso and chest to you. The moonlight coming through the blinds illuminates him just enough for you to feel more desire building in your abdomen. He smiles at your impressed reaction, and that’s when you see it.

He has fangs.

It’s only a glimpse, but you would swear on your life that it was the truth. His canines are clearly sharper than normal, it can’t be your imagination. And with all his talk about blood… You felt like you were losing it. There was no way he made you cum so hard that you’d believe in vampires.

“What is it, precious?” he asks softly as he undoes his belt and starts lowering his pants. His tone projects innocence, but the look on his face makes you think he knows exactly what you’re fixated on.

“Nothing, I- I- it’s-” you stutter. Your jaw almost drops as his hard cock springs free from his boxers. It was long and thick and you weren’t even sure that it would fit.

He climbs on top of you again, his strong, thick arms boxing you in on your bed.

“What’s the matter? Like what you see? Or is it that you don’t think I have a pretty smile?” he asks, flashing his teeth again. The fangs are in clear view now. Their existence is undeniable.

He can hear your heartbeat speeding up and your breathing getting shallow. It brings him a twisted sense of pleasure that he doesn’t dwell on. He lazily strokes himself in preparation to enter you.

“What are you? You… you can’t be…” you say, your voice dropping to nearly a whisper.

“A vampire?” he asks, “That’s probably the term easiest for you to understand, so yes, my little doll. I am a vampire.”

Your eyes widen. Your fearful gaze locks onto him.

“It’s not like a movie, baby. I can eat garlic and clearly I don’t need to be invited into your house,” he explains, almost as if he’s trying to lighten the mood, “But I have a bloodlust.”

You’re stunned. This couldn’t be real. “So what? I’m like your personal blood bank or something? Is that what being your mate is?”

“No,” he scoffs, “Being my mate is what it sounds like, angel. In all my years, I’ve never met another who makes me feel like you do. You’re my love, the light in the darkness I’ve been existing in. My personal heaven and hell wrapped into one perfect vessel.”

Your head is spinning with everything you’re hearing. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips before leaning back onto his knees and positioning himself at your entrance. He stares at you with his eyes, glossed over with lust. He reaches for your confined hands and brings them to his lips.

“It will all make sense soon, darling,” he says, “Soon enough we’ll be together in this.”

He takes one of your fingers into his mouth, keeping eye contact with you the entire time. One of his fangs presses into the pad of your finger, and draws a small drop of blood. You wince at the pain, but you’re quickly distracted by the guttural groan Leon emits as he smooths his tongue against the warm liquid.

He pushes inside you and tilts his head back. Your finger slips out of his mouth and smears some blood on his lips.

“Tastes so fucking sweet too, Christ,” he grunts as he begins thrusting.

Despite the circumstances, he felt good. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say it was the best you ever had. He filled you up perfectly. A string of whines and whimpers expel from your mouth into a long moan.

“That’s right. You know it’s perfect,” he mutters, “Soon, it will be just me and you. For all of eternity. No one else. The entire world could burn, and you and I could fuck on top of the ashes.”

Your own head falls back, and he sucks your finger back into his mouth to taste more of your blood. He moans around your digit, his hips beginning to piston with more intensity. His hands lock onto your hips, so he has a firm grip to slam into you with.

You felt a mix of shame and fear, but you started to believe him. You felt something inside you that told you this was right. This was what you longed for. What you needed.

He starts leaning over you more. He had to see you, had to see your mind changing about him, the look in your eyes shifting from fear to lust. One of his hands rises to hold your jaw and direct you to look at him.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, eyes boring into you.

You do it with no hesitation. Your lips part and your tongue lolls out obediently. He smirks, still rolling his hips as he slowly spits into your open mouth. His saliva leaks from his lips, lands on your tongue, and starts sliding to your throat. The feeling combined with that look in his eyes almost made you cum on its own.

He feels the same. Watching your pretty eyes become unfocused as you accept what’s happening had him digging his fingers into the flesh of your cheeks in order to hold on. Once he felt you had enough he pats your cheek.

“Swallow,” he grunts and reverts his primary focus to fucking you into the mattress.

And you do this too. You swallow it all. A garbled moan erupts from you afterwards, and your eyes roll back as he strokes all the sweet spots inside of you.

“Good girl,” he coos with a low tone, “Taking it perfectly. Just like you’re meant to do.”

You lift your arms and loop your bound wrists over his head to pull him closer. He follows your guidance, but his face looks almost pained. He keeps his face further than you want. You whimper and try to pull him down to the crook of your neck more.

“Sweet baby, you have to be careful. I can’t… I have to make sure you’re safe my love. I don’t know if I can control myself if I’m that close,” he breathes.

“What? Control how?” you babble, still not really focused because of how his cock is battering your insides at the moment.

“Your blood, baby. It’s too strong. I won’t be able to hold back. I could hurt you,” he says.

That almost snaps you back to reality for a moment. “Like what? You wanna bite me?” you ask with a curious expression.

For a change, this time he has no words. He nods, still maintaining eye contact.

It wasn’t your smartest moment, but you don’t hesitate as the words leave you.

“Do it.”

His eyes flash with a look you can’t read in your state.

“Sweetheart, I… I want to, but it’s not safe,” he whispers, but you can hear the desire in his voice.

“If we’re really mates then you should be able to stop yourself. Prove it to me. Prove that I’m yours and you’re mine,” you say, your voice taking on a whiny quality from how close you were getting.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist when you were asking for it like this. He slowly lowers himself to be level with your neck. His thrusts become slower but deeper. He takes another deep breath of that scent before baring his teeth and sinking them into your flesh.

You gasp and pull your arms around him as you feel the punctures. At first it hurts, but then he begins to softly suck, coaxing your blood into his mouth. You both let out simultaneous moans. His eyes flutter now and his grip on your hips tighten.

He’s getting lost in his own world of euphoria now as he feeds off of you, gulping down that sweet, hot liquid. You tremble as pleasure courses through you too. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. It was light and airy while being grounding and all consuming. You couldn’t hold on for any longer.

He growls as you cum, the feeling of your cunt latching onto him is almost too much. He manages to hold it together for a handful more thrusts. His breathing is rough as he cums and his thrusts are sporadic. You feel his muscles tensing as he groans into your neck. He spills rope after rope of cum into you.

When you’re both done, both of your bodies are trembling. Your sweaty skin is pressed to his which is still ice cold. He goes limp on top of you, breathing deep as he comes down from the high. You could feel blood trickling down your neck as his mouth disconnects from your throat.

You didn’t know what to say. The fog of lust was clearing and while you didn’t regret your decisions, this was still weird. You remove your arms from him, and he takes that as a signal to pull out and roll off of you.

He pushes his disheveled hair out of his face and gives you a crooked smile. His mouth was still red with your blood. He reaches over and starts untying the restraints around your hands. You watch him quietly.

“So you said soon… we’ll be in this together?” you ask awkwardly.

He lets out a short laugh as he gets the bindings off and drops them to the side. He runs his fingers through your hair and kisses your forehead before getting out of your bed.

“Soon, sweet one, I’ll change you to be like me. A vampire,” he says, using a teasing tone for the last word, “But not yet. I know you’re not ready, and my goal isn’t to scare you. I truly love you.”

You just nod because you honestly didn’t know what to say to that. Even if you felt something for him, you wouldn’t say it was love. Yet. 

You watch him put on his clothes as you reach down to start untying your ankles.

“So… you’re just leaving?” you say, almost sounding disappointed.

“Yes but don’t be too sad, my love. You’ll see me as soon as the sun sets again tonight,” he says.

He finishes putting on his clothes and leans in to give you one more passionate kiss before he leaves. You could still taste your blood on him.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #smut

[somekindofpoet]

La Petite Mort - La Drague

Summary: Reader and Lorraine take a ride into the woods for a picnic...and other things.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, smut, language 

A/N: The angst is coming....enjoy this while you can

LPM Part I LPM Part III LPM Part IV LPM Part V LPM Part VI

LPM - La Drague

Somehow, the day after your barnyard tryst is even hotter than the day before. Waves of heat roll off of the dusty hills, the sun sweltering above your head, making your skin burn. The cattle in the field gather together under the batches of hickory trees, their wispy branches providing thin strips of coveted shade. Getting them moving in this weather will require significant effort on your part and your grizzled veteran of a horse. 

You pat his dappled gray neck and sigh, “Well, CB, the faster we get these ladies back to the barn, the faster we can get to the pond.”

CB nudges you with his nose as if to tell you he’s been ready long before you were. You ruffle his black bangs and reach up to the horn of your saddle, hiking your leg into the stirrup and swinging yourself onto his back. You lean forward and give him another pat on his shoulder, and he picks his head up, ears high, ready to work. If he does well, you’ll be done in enough time to catch Lorraine before lunch, a thought that sends a tingle from the tips of your ears down to your toes. With the proper motivation (yours being the possible opportunity to see her naked again), one could accomplish wonders. 

You nudge CB in the sides, getting him to move toward the handful of cattle lounging in the shade. They pick their heads up lazily, watching you with bored eyes. They were so used to you and CB by now you hardly had to herd them. They had their routine. You just had to get them moving into it.

“Alright, ladies,” you yell, clapping your hands above your head, “let’s get those derrières movin'!”

They gaze at you, their jaws moving in slow circles as they chew their cud. You give them grace, understanding they don’t want to return to the heat. But they need to get moving or you won’t make it back to the house before Mr. Day returns from his trip into town. You glance down at your saddlebag, weighing your options. The fastest route is the one you decide to take, reaching over into the leather bag to pull out your revolver. You sling the cylinder open, checking for bullets in the chambers. 

You slap the cylinder back in and point the barrel into the sky, “Now listen up, heifers! There’s a real pretty lady waitin' on me right now, so I need you to get your asses in gear! I’ll even line up a date with a bull if you save me the money of wasting a bullet on the sky right now.”

The cows shuffle further from you but make no effort to move back to the path that will take them home. They’re going to scramble when you fire the gun, and it’ll take more effort to herd them in the right direction, but at least they’ll be moving. 

You sigh, shaking your head, “Well, girls, you’ve given me no choice. Desperate times and all.” 

You pull the trigger, the gun in your hand sending a familiar shockwave down your wrist. The chemical reaction in the barrel sets off a bang that immediately earns a reaction from the cattle. CB doesn’t flinch, well accustomed to gunfire. You spur him as the cows scramble, working their space bubbles until you have them all in a group and lumbering back toward the barn. You push them a little harder than normal, in a hurry to get your job done for the morning. 

When you come into view of the barn and the house, the driveway is still empty. A wide grin spreads across your face at the sight. You lock the cattle into their pasture and tie CB to one of the posts, making your way toward the house. A curtain swinging closed catches your attention, and seconds later, Lorraine is flying out the back door. You stop walking and watch her, your hands on your hips. She doesn’t slow when she gets closer to you, instead crashing into you, her lips immediately finding yours. She shoves your hat off your head in her haste, her hands and lips frantically taking you in. You respond immediately, but your shock makes your hands slow, and she’s already pushing you back against the barn wall, her fingers working at the buttons on your shirt.

You laugh into her lips, your hands coming up to stop hers, “Woah woah, Raine, slow down.” 

She stops long enough to look into your eyes and pushes into you again, her lips on your neck this time. “I dreamt about you last night,” she says, her words coming out muffled against your skin. 

You let her continue as you mull over your surprise. You knew you were good, damn good in bed. But you hadn’t expected to find her so wild so quickly. You had half worried she might be awkward or embarrassed about yesterday’s activities, but she’s nearing on barbaric the way she’s pulling at you. You realize you’re lost in thought, and she’s already got your shirt unbuttoned. You shake your head, trying to clear the haze that had settled over you. The excitement building in your stomach makes you feel like you’re buzzing, her hands running across your ribs amplifying the feeling. You glance around the open yard and begin to feel too exposed. Her father could come home at any moment and find you in a compromising situation. 

You gently hold her shoulders, pushing her back, “Wait,” you say as she reaches up to kiss you again, “Wait, Lorraine. I have an idea.”

She sighs in frustration, “Daddy is gonna be back any time now.”

You huff out a laugh at how cute she looks, her eyes wide and dark, her nose scrunched with impatience. Her hands are still on your sides, her thumbs running back and forth over your skin.

“I know,” you say, looking down at her, “that’s what I’m worried about. Come with me.” 

You pry her fingers from around your waist and take her hand, pulling her toward CB. She follows willingly, only a slight pull of confusion on her face. You scoop up your hat and drop it on her head, the brim sinking over her eyebrows. She laughs softly and pushes it back, letting you lead her along the fence posts. Her fingers fall from your grip as you untie the reins from the post, and she stands up on her tiptoes to hug CB’s neck.

“Hey, handsome,” she says, and he glances at her, then back to you. 

You pull yourself onto his back and offer your hand to her, but she frowns up at you, your hat sliding down into her eyes again.

“I can ride on my own, you know.”

You shake your head and laugh, “I know that, but we’re in a bit of a hurry at the moment. Are we not?”

CB stomps and shakes his head to accentuate your point, ever the wingman. Lorraine shrugs and reaches up, letting you pull her up onto his back in front of you. You pluck your hat from her head and place it back on your own, and she leans back into your chest. With her body flush against yours, you feel the heat in your belly begin to glow, every nerve standing at attention. The reins gathered in one hand, you pull to the side, telling CB to turn and begin walking down the fence, away from the house. Lorraine drops her head back to rest on your collarbone, and you can’t help but kiss just below her ear, making her shiver despite the blazing sun. 

“I hope you’re takin me where I think you’re takin me,” she mumbles, closing her eyes, her body gently rocking side to side with CB’s steps. 

You smirk, already knowing where she’s thinking, “I am.”

You guide CB through a thick line of trees, picking your way along a trail you’ve all walked many times before. You hardly have to tell him where to go; he knows his destination now that you’ve pointed him in its direction. He slowly makes his way through the trees and underbrush, plodding along obediently. Lorraine is quiet and relaxed, every few minutes, she runs her palms up and down your legs, giving you goosebumps under the denim. You break through into a clearing, and Lorraine sits up, knowing this is your stop. A large pond is hidden away there, only accessible through the clearing. You pull CB to a halt, and she slides off his back with you just behind her. 

You turn back to him to pull the blanket roll off the saddle and a small bundle out of the saddle bag. Lorraine scratches his nose and plants a kiss between his nostrils when he drops his head to her. 

You pat his rump, “Alright, buddy, go do horse stuff, I’ll see ya soon.”

He sidles through the clearing to the grass near the pond and ducks his head down to snack. You unroll the blanket and lay it in the grass, the trees around the clearing providing shade in the shapes of branches and leaves. You set the bundle from your saddlebag on the corner of the blanket and start to pull your boots off. Lorraine watches you curiously, until she understands what you’re doing and follows suit. You’re down to your underwear by the time she gets the picture. Her eyes are trained on you as she unties her shoes, watching you closely as you strip out of your remaining clothes. She licks her lips, hurrying her hands.

You grow impatient and sprint to the water bank, striding in knee-deep and diving in, the cool water washing over your head. When you resurface, Lorraine is in her underwear at the edge of the water, chewing on her cheek.

“Well, now is a weird time to get shy,” you call out, smiling wide.

She shrugs and shakes her head, sighing. She glances around into the surrounding trees, stretching up on her toes to see further into the dense brush.

“You just tried to strip me down in front of your house not thirty minutes ago, and you’re worried now?” You tease her, backstroking further out into the water.

She throws her hands up in defeat and strips down, tossing her clothes back toward the blanket, and wades in. 

“It’s cold!” She yelps, hesitating ankle-deep.

You swim up to a point where you can stand with your shoulders just breaking the water, wind back, and swing your arm, splashing her in a wave. She squeals and tries to retreat, but you’re already grabbing her around the waist, pulling her into the water. You fall backward, dunking both of your heads under, and let go of her. When you surface, she’s spluttering and pushing her hair out of her face, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. You expect to be chastised, but instead, she opens her eyes and lunges at you, splashing your face and giggling. 

She stays a few feet closer to the shore, unable to stand with her head above water at your depth. You watch her for a moment, committing to memory the way the water droplets run down from her hair over her cheekbones and her faint tan lines around the collar of her neck. She stops laughing as you take her in, biting her lip and moving toward you. She has to swim to you, and when she reaches you, she wraps her arms around your neck to keep herself above water. You hold her waist as her legs wrap around your torso, and you quickly remember why you’d trekked all the way out here. This time when she kisses you, you don’t stop her.

You carry her a few steps closer to the shore, your hands sliding down to hold her weight. The water ripples around your bodies as you grow more frenzied, her hips rolling into your stomach, her hands on your jaw. For a split second, you worry that you could get used to this, having her like this, and lose her. The thought flits through your mind, making you falter, but when she sighs into your mouth, the sentiment dissolves like sugar under your tongue. You stay there a bit longer, enjoying her tongue on yours, your skin relishing in the cool dark water, the sun drying your hair and shoulders. It can’t last long because you want more from her, and she’s demanding more from you. You carry her out of the water and over to the blanket, where she unwinds herself from you and lays down, pulling you on top of her. You kiss her lips again, groaning at the feeling of her against your stomach. 

You dip your head to her neck, licking at her skin, and her hands slide over your back, exploring your body, familiarizing herself with the valleys and canyons between your bones. She’s calmed a bit now that you’re pressed into her, her breathing slowing and her eyes less wild. You, on the other hand, are growing in intensity, starving for more of her, inching your way down her body, tracing the constellation of bruises you’d left on her the day before, ensuring they stay another day. You make a brief stop at her breasts, biting and sucking at each nipple before moving on, kissing your way down to her hip bones. You take your time making your way across her body, intent to learn more of her triggers, commit them to memory to recall any time she beckons you to her. 

She likes it when you bite, but not hard. Just enough to leave a light imprint of your teeth, and she likes it when you soothe the mark with your tongue and lips. She responds to your hands wandering over her skin, positive feedback in the form of a caught breath when you reach up to her breasts as your mouth makes its way to her belly button. Her nails dig into your skin, but when yours press into her, she gasps, and her hips stop, telling you to be more gentle. She likes to see you glance up at her as you make your descent, her hand pushing your hair out of your eyes so she can see you kissing the insides of her thighs. She’s especially fond of you pressing a kiss to her center, your lips pushing gently around her clit, your hands running up her legs to hold her hips in place.  

When your tongue runs through her, you lose her eye contact and focus on the more immediate part of her body. You push your tongue inside of her, exploring her sensitivities you hadn’t had the time to reach last time. She responds with a groan, one arm slung over her eyes, closing out one sense to heighten another. You dip your tongue in a few more times, then drag it up to her clit, lapping over it. Her feedback is loud and immediate, her hand reaching down to anchor you there as she rolls her hips up. She likes a flat tongue, light pressure, and consistent speed, whining when you try to change it up. You take note, learning her as she learns herself. You watch for the landmarks, what sounds she makes when she’s getting close, how her body writhes under you, and which muscles tense in what order. 

When she cums, her breath catches in her throat, and her eyes flutter closed, her body freezes, her breathing stops altogether for a moment, and then she’s falling apart at the seams. She rolls her hips and rides it out, looking to elongate the moment of bliss as far as she can. She pushes your head back when it becomes too much and falls limp as a wet leaf on the blanket, shivering with aftershocks running down her spine. You kiss lightly at her again, making her jump and shy away from your lips. You crawl up her body and kiss her jugular, feeling her blood pounding under your lips. 

You roll off of her and sit at her side, content to watch her regain her senses. It’s another piece of her that you tuck away for future reference; she needs time to come back around after an orgasm. Her eyes are glassy and far off, her hand absently stroking your knee. You turn and unfurl the bundle on the corner of the blanket, revealing a chunk of bread and strawberry jam. Lorraine turns her head at the sound of the jar opening, and her eyes light up. You tear a piece of bread and dip it into the jar, pretend to offer it to her, then pop it into your mouth when she eagerly reaches for it.

Her brows furrow over her eyes, and her lip curls as she sits up, snatching the jar from your open palm before you can hold it out of her reach.

“Hah!” She shouts triumphantly, smirking at you. 

You tear another piece of bread and hand it to her, keeping the larger piece for yourself. She rolls her eyes at you and dips her piece into the jar, closing her eyes and humming when the jam hits her tongue. You laugh and shake your head. This girl and strawberries were going to be the death of you. You reach for the jar, but she holds it away from you, motioning to the bread in your hand. You sigh and hand over the piece. She dips it and gives you back the jar, a self-satisfied smile on her lips accompanying the jam. You quirk an eyebrow, you don’t need the bread. You dip two fingers in and suck them into your mouth, maintaining eye contact with her while you lick the sugary preserves from them. Her jaw drops, and her eyes never leave your mouth until you’re smirking back at her. 

She leans over and pushes you onto your back, her lips crashing into yours again, her tongue running over yours. She tastes like strawberries, sugar, and something so uniquely Lorraine you can’t place your finger on it. You sit up and push her down your lap, her legs wrapping around your waist as you sit her back on the blanket. You lean forward to kiss her again, nipping at her bottom lip as your hand slides down the front of her body. You’re met with eager anticipation when she realizes what happens next, her hands running around to the nape of your neck. You slide two fingers inside of her, the cum from her previous orgasm lubricating them easily. She pulls your body as close as she can to herself, leaving you very little space to move your arm, but you’re letting her do it, a slave to her every whim. 

It doesn’t take much to have her trembling again, already sensitive and still turned on. She drops her head into your shoulder, panting on your collarbone as you curl your fingers, hitting that spot you learned she liked. She’s whimpering in your ear, and you’re fully committed to immersing yourself in the symphony of noises pouring out of her, but a sound in the distance snaps you out of your trance. You don’t stop moving, continuing to build her up, but your eyes are scanning the trees, quickly checking your surroundings before diving back into lips. She throws her head back, her eyes squeezed shut as she turns her face to the sun, and you kiss her throat, taking her in savoringly. 

You can see CB out of the corner of your eye, just aware enough to see him pick his head up and look into the trees. Your instincts are torn in half, wanting to continue reveling in Lorraine’s soft moans, slick skin, and tight grip around your shoulders. The other half of you is screaming something is off, and CB is watching the woods far too intensely. Lorraine is too intoxicating to really allow you to think straight, but when she cums, tightening around your fingers and slumping into your shoulder, your head finally clears. CB whinnies, and another horse in the distance answers him, making you go rigid. 

You don’t have time to get dressed, or to bring Lorraine back to earth, so you do the only thing you can think of in your lust fogged brain. You wrap your arms under her hips, stand with her and hurdle into the water. She screams as soon as the cold hits her skin, and you push her off of you.

“What the fuck y/n?!” She shouts, her eyes full of confused fury. 

You slap your hand over her mouth, your eyes wide. Watching over her shoulder, you can see a shadow approaching through the trees, and you let go of her again, gesturing with your head for her to look. She frowns and turns, then turns back to you, her eyes bulging. 

She slaps you on the shoulder and whispers, “Shit,” her face is washed in fear, “it’s my dad.”

You nod, unable to speak as your mind races, trying to come up with any excuse to give Mr. Day when he inevitably breaks into the clearing. You can’t think of a single thing, the haze from Lorraine’s body still making your brain sluggish and dumb. She bites her lip, her eyes racing over you, thinking quickly. Just when the chestnut head of Mr. Days' horse breaks through the trees, Lorraine splashes you and begins to laugh louder than her natural laugh, putting on a show. You pause, confused for a second, and realization dawns on you. You swim back from her a few feet and splash her back, your acting nearly as poor as hers. 

“Girls!” You wince as his voice rings out over your head from the shore. 

You turn slowly toward him, pretending to be shocked seeing him there. Lorraine giggles and yells, “Hi, Daddy!”

Her tone and face are the picture of innocence, and you thank the heavens she’s found some inner actress now. You wave your arm above the water, careful not to expose yourself. “Howdy, Mr. Day!”

For an agonizing moment, everything goes quiet. His eyes are sweeping over the scene you’ve left, the blanket, the bundle of bread and jam, your clothes strewn through the clearing. You think there’s absolutely no way you’re getting out of here without getting shot at. Then, by the grace of some holy entity, he laughs. When he laughs, you laugh too, the hysteria built up so high you nearly cry. He walks his horse right up to the water and turns her, his belly shaking with his humor.

“Ah, to be young again! You two don’t stay out there too long. There’s still work to be done today.” 

You salute him with a deviant grin, “You got it boss! Just coolin off.”

Lorraine rolls her eyes and sinks under the water, air bubbling up where she disappeared. Mr. Day chuckles again, shaking his head. 

“Y/n! Mrs. Day wants you to stay for dinner tonight, she says you’re gettin' too skinny workin' out here. I’ll see you both this evening, don’t ruin your appetite.”

“You got it, sir, I will not eat anything else until supper!” You yell back.

Lorraine slaps your shoulder when he turns his back, scrunching up her face at you, silently telling you that your joke is not funny. You giggle; the double entendre was funny, and you didn’t care what she thought. When Mr. Day is out of earshot, you relax, letting out your breath and sinking yourself under the water. When your head breaks out of the water again, she jumps on you, laughing. 

“Today I learned somethin new about you,” she giggles as your arms wrap around her back.

“Well, I learned lots about you, so we’re even.”

She tsks, “What could you possibly have learned about me today?”

You raise your eyebrows, “I already knew you were a terrible actress, what with your performance yesterday in front of your dad.”

She slaps your chest and gasps, “I am a perfectly acceptable actress, thank you very much. Plus, I learned you crumble under pressure.”

“I do not!”

Lorraine makes an over-exaggerated shocked face, mimicking yours. “Howdy, Mr. Day,” she deepens her voice, mocking you.

You laugh, having to admit the situation would have been worse had she not thought so quickly to save you. “Alright, that’s fair. But I got your naked ass into the water before he saw us, so I get points for that.”

She nods, “You did. But it was only to save your own skin. You know daddy keeps a magnum on his hip all day.”

“I am well aware, Raine. Which is why we’re in the water right now.”

“Did you mean what you said about not eatin again until supper?”

You scoff at her, “I have created an insatiable monster.”

She shrugs and leans down to kiss you.

——

The days that follow end up being much like the day at the pond. You and Lorraine wound up in increasingly risky positions, and Mr. Day nearly caught you almost every time. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he knew what he was doing, but you thought you’d be dead if he knew. 

On Wednesday, Lorraine had snuck you into her room, and after watching her write at her desk for less than five minutes, you were crawling under it to hike her skirt up and taste her. Luckily, when her dad swung the door open, you were completely hidden under the desk, and Lorraine told him she might have a fever when he’d asked why she looked so flushed. 

On Thursday, he nearly caught you knuckle deep inside of her. The only thing saving you was the backfire of the tractor you had been working on before she’d come calling. When it burped black smoke, you pulled out of her, hiding her behind the tire and leaning on it so he couldn’t see. 

On Friday, you thought you’d be clever and drive off somewhere in your truck. You set a bed of blankets in the back and watched the sunset before she climbed on top of you.  Her dad somehow passed by, saw your truck, and, thinking you were stuck in the mud, drove over to check on you, only to find Lorraine sitting in the back. Your body was hidden by the truck bed walls. She convinced him you had run off to pee in the woods, and he’d moved on. 

Saturday was the day your blissful little existence was slapped into reality. You were hauling hay bales into the barn again, reminiscing on the first day you’d finally kissed Lorraine. Exactly like that day, she was sitting on the side of the tailgate, flirting with you openly and watching you do the manual labor. It took you twice as long to unload the truck because you would push your way between her knees and kiss her, making her giggle before you’d move another bale.

When you saw the dirt cloud down the driveway, you’d assumed it was her dad coming home from the auction, but as the vehicle grew nearer, you realized it was a van, not a truck. The driver parks it in front of your truck, and the back doors are thrown open. You glance up at Lorraine and watch as she pales when she sees who steps out. You turn back to them and realize what caused her reaction. 

RJ was grinning ear to ear, his camera in one hand, the other stretched out to his side, “Rainey, baby! I’m home.”

Hearing your nickname for her coming from him turned your jaws into a vice grip. You stared at him as he approached, ignoring you completely. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Lorraine stiffen and slide off the tailgate. She lightly brushes you as she walks past, her pinky hooking yours for a split second. It would have been comforting if she hadn’t fallen straight into his arms like she was made to be there. You feel sick to your stomach. You feel naive, stupid to believe that what you had was more than just a temporary thing. You can’t look at him when he leans down to kiss her, so you turn back to the truck, pull another hay ream down, and haul it into the barn. 

You come back out to grab another bale, but a woman is sitting on your tailgate now, a suggestive smile painted across her features.

“Who’s this RJ? You didn’t tell me you had such a pretty thing hidden away out here.” She drawls, her eyes running over you.

Your step falters as she flirts with you, and against your better judgment, you glance at Lorraine. She’s not looking at you. Her eyes are burning into the woman’s head, her jealousy only evident to you. It’s comforting to know she’s jealous because it means she cares, but seeing her still under RJs arm makes you feel petty. 

You offer the woman your hand, “I’m y/n. I work for the Days.” 

“Oooh, a gentleman,” she coos, taking your hand and holding it instead of shaking it, “I’m Maxine. Pleased to meet you, handsome.”

“Pleasures mine, ma’am,” you grin at her, kissing her knuckles. 

You drop her hand and look to Lorraine again, and it makes you regret what you’ve done, at least a little. There’s anger in her eyes, and she’s still under RJs arm, but you can see hurt there too. This situation had become volatile and delicate all at once, and it was going to take a gargantuan effort to get out of it intact.

#lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n

[mynameismckenziemae]

Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone-Bonus Scene.

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x OFC/Reader (no use of y/n)

What happened between Bob and Sunny after the impromptu photo shoot (found here)

Warnings: oral (both receiving) anal play, p in v, mutual masturbation, use of ‘good girl’, etc.

“Your 2 hours start now!”

Bob hears Cyclone yell as he powers on his phone and strips to his boxers briefs, hanging his clothes over the edge of his bunk.

He lays back and taps on your contact name, cock already half-hard in anticipation.

________________________________________

“Bobby! Hey!” You answer excitedly when you see he’s FaceTiming.

“Hey Sun, wow. You look gorgeous.”

You’re wearing one of his threadbare ‘US NAVY’ shirts, face bare, and hair pulled into a messy bun since you were just getting ready to relax in bed for a while.

“Thanks, you do too.” He does, his chest bare and hair mussed from taking his shirt off. “I’ve got some pictures that I wanted to send you when I finally got a chance to talk. Can I send them now?”

He nods. “Yeah, Bradley’a giving me the first hour so I’m alone. What are they of?”

“You’ll see,” you smile as you hit send, “let me know when you get them.”

“I will, what’s you do today—Jesus, Sunny!”

He got the pictures.

You laugh. “Row and I went out for brunch and did some shopping after.”

“Did brunch include tequila?” He groans as he sees more come through on his screen.

“How did you know?” You say cheekily.

“Where was this? Please tell me you bought that. Whose hand is that—oh, it’s Rowan…Oh. Holy shit, Sun. She’s touching you.” Bob rambles, his cheeks red, running his hand through his hair.

“Do you like them?” You smile.

“Yes. Jesus Christ.” He groans when he pulls up to his new favorite.

“Which one do you like the best?”

“The one where you’re on your knees, eyes closed and Row’s thumb is pressing on your lips. You look like you’re about to put my cock in your mouth.” He rasps out, you can see the movement in his shoulder.

“Bobby, are you touching yourself?”

He nods with a groan.

“Let me watch.”

“I don’t know if I should. Maybe I should tease you like…” he trails off and his eyes drift close before he continues, “tease you like you tease me.”

“Please?” You slip his shirt over your head and reveal your naked chest to him.

“Alright.” He caves and props his phone so you can see all of him.

A strangled mewl leaves you at the sight of him fisting his cock, the other resting behind his head.

“You look so good baby,” you purr as your hands trail over your chest, one hand toying with your nipples as the other travels further south.

“You do too, Sunny. Suck your fingers for me first, like you do my cock. Get them nice and wet.” He pants.

You do as he asks, sucking your index and middle finger into your mouth lewdly.

He grunts, slowly his moments until your fingers are nice and wet. You sigh when you bring them to your clit.

“Good girl. Have you touched yourself since I’ve been gone?”

You nod, “Twice, you?”

“No, between hops and briefings and sharing a room and the bathrooms aren’t private…,” he whines.

“You poor thing, we’ll make up for it when you’re back, okay?” You sigh, pushing your fingers inside and using the heel of your palm on your clit. “What are you gonna do to me when you’re back?”

“You’re gonna greet me on your knees and I’m gonna fuck your pretty mouth. You’re gonna swallow like a good girl too. Then I’m gonna lay you out on our bed and eat your pussy ‘til you can’t take any more.”

“Yes, yes I want that. Will you put that plug in while you go down on me…fuck me with it in after?” You whine, your orgasm starting to build.

“Yes, fuckkkk.” He grits out.

“I had it in the last time I got myself off, I feel so full. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like with you inside me too,” you whimper, so close.

Bob groans, his back arching as he finishes, ropes of cum painting his toned stomach. You’re next and you whimper as your orgasm pulses through you.

You smile at him when you’re able to open your eyes. His cheeks are red and his hair is a mess; he’s wrecked and you love it.

“Shit, Bradley’s gonna be back in a few minutes. Can I text you?”

“Sounds good, I’ll get cleaned up too. Love you.”

“Love you too, Sun.”

________________________________________

He texts you a few minutes later, but you only get a few messages back and forth before he sends you one saying not to worry, but their phones are getting cut early. The messages sent after came back as not delivered.

You sigh and text Rowan to let her know in case she and Bradley got cut off; she was relieved because they did.

________________________________________

You work twelve-hour shifts the next two days and are exhausted as you walk in the door, not even seeing Bob’s truck in the driveway.

That exhaustion disappears though when you get inside and spot him on the couch, he rises as soon as he spots you.

You squeal and jump into his arms, peppering his face with kisses. “What are you doing home so early?!”

“Training went better than anticipated,” he smiles, setting you down with a squeeze to your ass.

“Did you pick up Steve?” You ask looking around for him. Annie keeps him some nights when you have to work a few 12-hour shifts in a row; more at the request of the girls than for Steve, but it works out for everyone.

“No, I texted Annie that I could come pick him up, but the girls asked to keep him for one more night.”

“Will you shower with me?” You ask, untying your scrubs. You like to shower before doing anything after a long day at the hospital.

He nods and lets you lead him to the bathroom.

________________________________________

You bring him off on your knees in the shower, sucking his soul out of his dick.

He comes in your mouth as promised and pulls you off him by your hair when he finishes.

“Swallow, yeah, yeah…like that. Let me see,” he pants, tapping your lips with his thumb.

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. You open your mouth and show him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek.

________________________________________

He washes your hair and then your body, bringing you off with his fingers before he lets you wash him too.

Then, he warms you up the supper he made earlier and asks about your week as you eat before bringing you to bed.

He lays you on the bed and kisses his way down your body, detouring and spending a long time torturing and teasing your nipples; nipping, licking, biting, pinching until they’re red and oversensitive.

“Please Bob,” you cry, trying to push his head where you want him.

“Alright,” he chuckles and continues south.

He licks at your clit. Once, twice, three times but then stops. You whimper and look at him.

“Where’s that toy and lube?”

Your head falls back in exasperation but you point to the nightstand.

He chuckles, reaching for it and you gasp a few moments later when his lubed-up fingers work into your ass, his mouth goes back to your clit; gentle and tender, like the fingers inside you.

You cry out as you climax, just as he pushes the plug in. He gently kisses your pulsing clit before leaving to wash his hands, returning before you even come back down.

Your back arches, hands grip his hair and you keen as he devours you now; a sharp contrast to the gentleness from a few minutes prior. He groans against you as his hips rut against the bed and his fingers slide into your aching pussy.

“Fuck!” You wail as he brings you off again. And again. And again. So many times you lose track.

He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean before he slides back up your body and pushes into your pussy.

You inhale sharply at the full, almost overwhelming feeling and your nails dig into his ass.

“Oh God, Sun. You okay?” Bob grits out, feeling a little overwhelmed himself.

You mewl and nod, clenching around him and he hisses. He recovers though and starts moving his hips, his pubic bone brushing against your clit.

He kisses along your neck, sucking a bruise into your collarbone. It doesn’t take long before your vision goes white and your ears ring as the most intense orgasm washes over you.

Bob clenches his jaw, fighting not to follow you over the edge as you flutter around him. He fails though, and grunts on your shoulder; sweet desperate sounds as he fills your pussy with his spend.

________________________________________

After you’re cleaned up, he strokes your head in bed.

“Were the pictures okay? They weren’t… too much?” You ask. Bob has healed so many of your insecurities and doubts your ex caused, but they still crept in sometimes.

“Never. You’re never too much. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life proving it to you,” he murmurs into your hair, “the pictures were incredible and sexy, just like you.”

“Thank you.” You smile into his chest.

“I do have a question though. Are you…into girls at all?”

You laugh. “No, not really. I find some women attractive, but I’m not attracted to them. It was really hot though, knowing we would get you guys all hot and bothered.”

“Well, it worked.”

________________________________________

A/N: I’ve been having a writers block with Bradley and Rowan, so I wrote this instead at the request of @phoenix-rising-starbird-one I hope you like it!

Tagging:

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@mrsrobertfloyd

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@ingoaliesitrust

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #aint no sunshine when she’s gone #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw

[whatawonderfulexistence--blog]

Dances In The Moonlight (Falk Maria Schlegel x GN! Reader) - Part IV

WARNINGS: Tooth rotting fluff, Falk takes reader to dinner and a movie

Part III - Part V

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Falk asks with a chuckle.

“I just never thought I’d see you in jeans and a t-shirt.” You fumbled with the station on the radio, electing to sit in the middle of the car's long bench seat to be closer to Falk. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going exactly.” He laughs at your impatience.

“It’s a surprise, you’ll see when we get there.” You groaned, letting your head fall against his shoulder. You feel his arm slowly slide across your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. "Is this alright?" You smirked at the nervous tone in his voice. You nod, snuggling into his side slightly. You drove down winding back roads, the warm afternoon sun filling the car with a soft, golden light. Neither of you could stop smiling the entire ride. You spent your time singing along to the radio, Falk laughing at your adorable dance moves in the seat next to him, or getting lost in conversation. "I am telling you, formal robes have to be the most uncomfortable things in the world."

"There's no way, you're lying." Tears of laughter pricked the corners of your eyes as you sat there debating back and forth about how comfortable the Church's ritual robes were. You couldn't hold back your laughter, hiding your face against him. You turned into a parking lot, the neon sign of a diner buzzing it's welcome. He motions for you to wait, getting out of the car and running around to the other side to open your door. You giggle as he takes your hand to help you up, "well, I guess chivalry isn't dead after all." You say playfully. Your hand lingered in his for a little longer before the two of you headed inside. You hopped up on two stools at the counter. Who you assumed was the owner greeted Falk with familiarity, showing you this was a place he frequented.

"Two of my usual." He's met with a nod before the owner heads over to the griddle. "I have one more thing planned for us tonight." He says in a hushed tone. You shift yourself closer to him, an excited smile on your face. "There's a drive in not too far from here, they're showing old horror movies." Before you could express your excitement your food was dropped off in front of you.

"Falk, are these… are these chocolate chip pancakes?" You managed to ask through a fit of giggles. He nods and laughs, both of you diving into your meals. Now filled with great food, still in the presence of even greater company, you got back into the car and headed to the drive in.

"Perfect timing." He mutters to himself, scanning through the radio until he finds the station he needs. His arm wraps around your shoulders again, holding you close to him as the two of you watch the sun set behind the giant projector screen. You jumped slightly as the sound of the first movie blared from the radio. Falk chuckles, thumb rubbing soothingly back and forth on your shoulder. "Don't tell me you're scared already?" He teases you, causing you to roll your eyes in mock annoyance. His cheek came to rest on the top of your head, you pressed your leg into his, feeling him instantly return your little nudge brought a smile to your lips. You sat cuddled up next to him, The Night of The Living Dead crackling from the radio. You couldn't focus on the movie, your mind drifting to the man at your side. You looked at the arm wrapped around your shoulder, fingers ghosting over the winding lines of the tattoo that ran down his forearm as you thought about how nice it would be to hold his hand. Your eyes flashed in the direction of the screen as a scream pierced through the radio, your arm sliding across Falk's stomach as you snuggled closer to him.

"What?" You look up to find warm brown eyes already staring down at you, a soft grin on his face.

"Nothing… it's just really cute seeing you cling to me for protection." He teases you with a wink. You couldn't stop yourself from blushing, a sight that only made the mischievous glint in his eyes shine brighter. Your hand reached up, fingers intertwining with his, your head falling to rest against his shoulder once more. You could have stayed like that with him forever, even on the drive back to the Abbey he never even thought about letting you go. Sitting in a comfortable silence that was only broken up by whatever quiet tune played in the background, complemented occasionally by Falk humming along to a song he recognized. You sensed Falk's reluctance to let the night end as he walked with you back to your room.

"I was not scared." You tried to convince him.

"Don't think I didn't see you jump." He playfully nudges you. "Don't worry I won't tell anybody." You laugh, looking around the courtyard. A fog had settled over the grass, leaving you in an eerie atmosphere. Falk notices your uneasy expression and decides to turn the whole thing into a game. "They're coming to get you Barbara." He mocks the line from the movie. You took off, the two of you racing for the welcoming light of the doorway of the Abbey. Falk's footsteps rapidly approaching behind you, his long legs making his strides impossible fast. Just as you were about to push through the door Falk grabbed you by the waist, earning a startled shriek from you as he pulled you to him. "Got you." The two of you shared a laugh, you slipped your hand into his as you walked inside. It took you a moment to realize that you had never been in this part of the Abbey before. A solid black door at the end of a long dark corridor caught your attention.

"What's down there?" You pointed in its direction. Falk looked to where you were gesturing with a curious hum.

"Oh, that's the ritual room, that's where the high clergy's monthly ritual takes place." He explains. Your eyes burned into the door, your insatiable curiosity burning inside of you.

"Can I look inside?" Falk sighs, gaze switching between you and the end of the hall.

"If I let you go in there you are not to tell another soul, okay?" You nod, squeezing his hand as you trail behind him. He cracks open the door, looking in to make sure nobody else was inside before dragging you in after him. A massive chandelier hung in the center of the room over a black marble table, five dark wooden chairs that seemed much too big for any normal man to be sitting in surrounded it. The scent of incense hung thick in the air as it mixed with a strong musk that almost smelt like it should've been from some type of animal. In each corner of the room stood an elaborate wooden carving of beasts you didn't recognize.

"This room is incredible.” You were in complete awe, running your fingers along the armrest of one of the chairs that came up nearly to your collarbone. “Can I ask why the seats are so big?” 

Falk chuckles, leaving his position posted by the door to head in your direction. “I know they probably look a bit silly, but we kept these from when our ancestors used to perform the same rituals we do now.” He looks at the chair you were studying with a particular fondness. “This is actually my seat, before me it was my father’s, hopefully someday I’ll pass the tradition onto a successor of my own.” Deep scratch marks caught your attention, you figured they were probably from the chairs getting moved around and battered throughout the years. But, they still seemed way too deep for that to be the reason. 

“I thought Priests weren’t allowed to, uh… nevermind.” You shook your head with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Aren’t allowed to do what? Have sex?” He breathes out a laugh at your flustered expression. “I’m more of a Pastor than a Priest, I never took a vow of celibacy. If I had, I’d be in a lot of trouble around you.” He jokes, winking at you. Falk perked up slightly before taking your hand, “come on, if anyone catches us in here we’re going to be in a lot of trouble.” You both jogged into the main hall, looking around to make sure no one had seen you before you continued on your way.

“What do you do for your rituals? Is there some sort of sacrifice?” Your eyes glimmered as you spouted off more questions.

“That one I can’t answer. I shouldn’t have even brought you to the ritual room, but I know if I said you couldn’t get in there you would probably just sneak in anyways.” He chuckles, your expression showing him that he was completely correct with his assumption. He suddenly stopped, causing you to crash into him. He turns to face you, holding both of your hands in his. “On the night of the ritual I need you to promise me you’ll follow the rules.”

“I know, stay in my room with the door locked from sun down till sun up.” You had been warned repeatedly before the first ritual you were a part of that the church had one very serious rule. “I might be curious, but I’m not going to break what seems to be one of the only rules I’ve come across.” He studies your face for a moment and sighs. He carefully pulls a silver chain off of his neck, thin red scars sat where the necklace came into contact with his skin. He delicately puts it on you, the cross pendant ice cold against your chest. “What’s this for?” You ask with a smile.

“To protect you when I can’t be there myself.” You held the pendant tightly in your hand, your cheeks flushing under his soft gaze. You continued your walk back to your room without another word. Every so often you would look over at Falk only to catch him stealing glances of you, a small smirk coming across his face every time he got caught. “Thank you for letting me take you out tonight.” 

“I had fun… Maybe we could do this again sometime?” You say bashfully, gently kicking the toe of your shoe on the floor. You’re met with a bright smile and an excited nod.

“I’d like that.” Your hand rested on your doorknob. “Goodnight, (Y/N).” He gives you a small, polite bow.

“Goodnight, Falk.” You reluctantly entered your room alone, your fingers immediately returning to the unfamiliar weight around your neck.

#falk maria schlegel x reader #falk maria schlegel powerwolf #falk x reader #falk powerwolf #falk maria schlegel #powerwolf fan fiction #powerwolf x reader #powerwolf #powerwolf band #fan fic writing #fan fiction #fanfic #if you like ghost youll probably like this #my fic #my writing

[babyboibucky]

Project V

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You ask Bucky a favor of a lifetime.

Word Count: 4,233

Warnings: SMUT hehehe

A/N: This was supposed to be short but I enjoyed writing their banter wayyyy too much. And oh, this isn’t a friend to lovers trope lol and I have no plans for a second part to this. It is what is is for these two ;)

Edit: Will be doing ficlets for this AU every once in a while! Check out the first one linked below!

Project V Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

“You want me to what?”

Your best friend, Bucky choked on his own spit upon hearing your question. His eyes were as wide as saucers as he stared at you in disbelief, you didn’t even know his eyes could get that big.

The sun was high up in the sky, it was barely noon and the two of you were simply walking into the campus when you asked him such favor. Bucky almost wondered whether you were drunk to even think of that.

“You want me to what?” Bucky repeated when you didn’t say anything, his elbow nudging your side as the two of you continued to walk along the pavement.

Letting out a sigh, you shrugged and repeated your favor with utter nonchalance.

“I want you to take my v-card. You know, my virginity?” You said, annoyed that he couldn’t seem to comprehend your simple request.

Bucky stopped in his tracks and tugged your shirt, pulling you back when you didn’t stop walking. His face was the epitome of confusion with his forehead creased, brows furrowed and lips open agape.

“Is there no other way for you to say that without making me cringe?” He asked.

Rolling your eyes, you groaned. “What did you want me to say? ‘Bucky, deflower me with your magic stick’?” You said sarcastically.

Bucky gagged at your words and shuddered. “But why? Why the fuck would you even consider that?” He asked. He simply couldn’t understand why.

You continued walking ahead and slowed down your pace until Bucky decided to catch up. “We’re graduating from college in less than a year and I’ve heard you boast about your bedroom skills. I don’t wanna leave college without getting fucked, Bucky. And since I’m still single and probably will be for the next few months, I put two and two and voila!”

Bucky snickered, “You gotta be kidding me.” He said.

“Why? Scared that I might find out that your dick ain’t working well?” You teased, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

He snorted, “Umm excuse me, this dick is the best dick that you’ll ever have. I just don’t want to ruin other guys for you.” He boasted, shrugging his shoulders.

“Then do me the favor.” You said, as a matter-of-factly.

Bucky turned to you with a smirk, the kind that made any girl on the receiving end, bend down on their knees for him. You were going to admit it, that look made your insides churn. In a good way.

“Oh, I’ll do you alright. When do you want it to happen?” He finally asked.

You stopped walking again and fist pumped in victory. “Friday night. At your dorm. And please, don’t make it weird with romantic gestures. I just wanna get fucked real good.”

“Well, if that’s the case then it’s a deal. Let’s shake on it to make it official.” Bucky said.

The two of you did your signature high-five to seal the deal.

-

You knocked on Bucky’s room and let out a sigh when it took him quite a while to open it. Although it was going to be your first time, you weren’t really nervous about it. Besides, you trusted Bucky and if there’s any guy you won’t regret having sex with, it would be him.

There were a few noises from inside that made you roll your eyes. The door finally opened, revealing a flustered Bucky with an awkward smile plastered on his face.

“The fuck took you so long?” You huffed out and stepped inside, surprised at how neat his dorm looked like.

His roommate Steve had always been organized but seeing Bucky’s side of the room all neat? It was a sigh to behold. You looked at your best friend with a stoic look, “Why’d you clean?”

Bucky closed the door and locked it, running his fingers through his hair as he shrugged. “I just wanted to.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fine, I cleaned. I didn’t want you to think I’m disgusting.” he reasoned out.

You stared at him pointedly, “I don’t care about that shit, I’m just here to get fucked. Besides, I’m used to your mess. I said don’t make it weird, jesus.”

Bucky groaned, “You asking me to fuck you is weird in its entirety. How can I not make things weird?!” He complained.

You sat on his bed and unzipped your jacket, revealing a bottle of tequila hidden beneath. “This is how we make things not weird.”

Two shots later and Bucky was finally loosening up to the idea of being the one to take your virginity. He prepared for this to be honest, forced asked Steve to stay over at Peggy’s for the weekend and worked out immediately right after formalizing the deal.

“Do we have rules?” He asked.

“We’ll stay best friends after this. No weird feelings or whatever.” You told him to which he nodded in agreement.

“And just please do your best to make my first time good.” You whined.

Bucky craned his neck and stretched out his arms, “Alright, okay. I got this.” He said. “You ready?” He asked you.

You inhaled and let out a long breath, “Yeah, okay let’s do this.”

Bucky started by leaning in, placing a hand on your neck as he did so. You were ready for a kiss but he immediately stopped before you could even close your eyes.

“Do you know how—“

“I’ve made out with guys, Bucky. Jesus christ, I’m not that inexperienced.” You explained before looking at Bucky expectantly, urging him to continue.

“Should we drink again?” he proposed, obviously still feeling awkward.

“Fuck no, I don’t wanna do this drunk. I want to remember my first time, idiot. Can you just...” you groaned. “Just kiss me?” you asked, well, more like commanded.

Bucky apologized before deciding to just go for it. Snaking his hand back to your neck, he leaned in and kisses your lips. He started off slow and gentle, trying to get a feel of how you liked to be kissed. Bucky was definitely weirded out for kissing you, his best friend that he had known since first grade. Surprisingly, you were good at kissing, like really really good and this spurred Bucky to level up by taking your lower lip in between his teeth.

A small whine escaped your parted lips, allowing Bucky to slide his tongue into your mouth. You let out another whimper when you felt his tongue on yours, your hands falling onto Bucky’s thighs for leverage.

Just as when the kiss was starting to get heated, Bucky pulled away slightly before gazing down at your chest.

“Can I touch your boob?” He asked breathlessly.

And there goes the momentum.

“Oh my god, Bucky. You sound like a fucking virgin. And that’s coming from me, an actual virgin.” You said with disappointment.

“I’m sorry! It’s just... it’s not that I find you unattractive. You’re my best friend and I just don’t want to disrespect you!” He reasoned out.

As much as you wanted to get annoyed, you found Bucky really sweet for considering that. But good god, you’ve been wanting to get fucked and respect was the last thing on your mind right now.

“By all means, Bucky...please disrespect me and fuck me because my pussy’s been wet since this morning and I’m about to explode if you still don’t do anything.” You said exasperatedly.

Your vulgar words were all that Bucky needed because as soon you were done complaining, he wasted no time to grab your face to kiss you. This time, it was all teeth and tongue and you weren’t complaining. This was the kind of performance that you were expecting from Bucky and finally he was giving it to you.

One of his hands moved to cradle your head while his other slide down to your waist, moving you to straddle his lap as he sat on his bed. You let out a soft squeal when you felt the tent in his pants rub against your crotch, causing you to grab onto Bucky’s wide shoulders.

“Fuck, you’re already hard.” You panted against Bucky’s lips.

“Yeah well, I just realized you aren’t wearing a bra.” He responded before fisting the hem of your shirt, bunching it up until you lifted your arms up so he could remove it.

Bucky wasted no time to bend forward, taking a nipple into his mouth making you moan out loud.

“Hoooly fuck, Bucky. That feels so good.” You pant, pushing your breasts forward as you thread your fingers into Bucky’s hair.

Your body trembled from pleasure as Bucky continued to lap at your breast, his hand coming up to palm the other before tweaking your nipple in between his thumb and index finger. Unknowingly, you started rutting your hips against Bucky’s crotch, seeking friction to relieve the growing throb in your core.

Bucky lifted you up off from him and laid you down on his bed as he left kisses from your neck down to the valley of your breasts until he reached your stomach. He unzipped your shorts and pulled it down together with your soaked underwear, groaning at the sight of your glistening pussy.

“Fuuuccckkk...” he rasped out, nipping the insides of your thighs as he pressed them down with his palms, opening you up to him.

“Have you ever been eaten out?” He asked, nudging his nose onto the skin of your bikini line.

You swallowed hard and shook your head, chest heaving as you anticipated for Bucky’s next move. “No.” You answered breathily and threw an arm over your eyes.

“Hold tight.” It was the last thing your brain was able to comprehend because Bucky immediately licked your entrance up until he reached your clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue making your toes curl.

“Ohhhh my god...” you moaned, your back involuntarily arching from the bed.

You felt Bucky’s lips curl into a smirk against your sensitive folds, almost wanting to smack his head for his cockiness. But then again, this was the reason why you wanted your first time to be with him. You’ve heard your friends share stories about how their first time went and majority ended up being either a huge let down or downright scary. You didn’t want your first time story to be like theirs so it was only right for you to ask Bucky a favor of a lifetime.

And so far, you weren’t regretting it one bit. Well, save maybe for what could happen afterwards. Whether this would affect your friendship with Bucky but right now, all you could focus on was how his tongue was skillfully fucking your cunt.

Your eyes popped open when you felt a finger prod at your entrance, your hand quickly grabbing Bucky’s wrist to stop him from further pushing a finger in.

“Wait, I’ve never been fingered.” You admitted, bringing your body up and leaning back against your elbows.

Bucky looked up at you and the scene was straight out of those female POV porn you’ve watched. His hair was sticking up in different directions, face in between your legs and his lips glistening with your juices. Your eyes almost rolled back into your head at the sight.

“You mean you never tried fingering yourself?” He asked, turning his head to press an open-mouthed kiss onto your thigh.

You shook your head, “I tried but it kinda hurts?” You told him meekly.

Bucky grinned before crawling up your body until his face was inches away from yours. He pressed a soft kiss on your lips. “Lay back.” He said, voice rough and low, leaving goosebumps in your wake.

Following Bucky’s order, you lay down on his bed and relax as he positioned himself on his side. He began kissing your ear, sucking your lobe as his hand went down to your pussy, spreading your lips open.

“Just relax, okay? Can’t fuck you with my cock just yet, gotta make sure you can take it.” He whispered into your ear.

Bucky started rubbing your pussy, spreading your wetness around before slowly pushing a finger in. You winced in pain, grabbing Bucky’s wrist to slow him down.

“You can take it, just relax.” He coaxed and you nodded, turning your head to kiss him.

Bucky returned the kiss, helping take your mind off of the way he was pushing in his finger until he was knuckle-deep into your pussy. There was a slight sting but bearable enough for you to let him continue with his movements. You felt his finger slide out and then back in with ease, the pain slowly transforming into a different kind of pleasure as he went on. Next thing you know, your hips were already moving to meet Bucky’s finger.

“Gonna add in another one, okay?” He breathed into your lips before biting your lower lip.

“Ow, ow, ow!” You cried out and slapped Bucky’s hand away from your pussy when he tried to insert another finger without even slowing down.

“The fuck, Bucky! Slow down, sweet jesus...” you snapped, frowning when Bucky responded with a chuckle.

“Sorry! I’m losing my patience here, I want to finger fuck you so bad.” He admitted, whispering another apology against your lips.

You relaxed and let Bucky rub your pussy again, gathering your wetness and pushing a finger in. A few more pumps and he carefully inserted another finger, swallowing the whimpers coming out of your mouth.

You stiffened a bit, biting your lip as you tried to ignore the stretch that you were feeling. “You good?” Bucky asked, waiting for you to nod before fully pushing his fingers in.

His movements were slow and careful then, helping you adjust to the stretch of having two of his fingers pump in and out of your pussy. Soon enough, you were moaning against Bucky’s lips as he increased the pace of his fingers. You could hear how wet you were and you never really thought it was possible for you to be this soaked. All the times you touched yourself, you got pretty wet...but not this wet. When Bucky said that he fingered like a god, you laughed at his face but now, fuck. He really wasn’t lying about it.

“Fuck, so tight. Can’t wait to slide my cock into your pussy.” He grunted and moved on top of you, pulling his fingers out making you whine.

He sucked his fingers while maintaining eye contact, making you blush timidly at the lewdness of his action. But god, you were so right for giving Bucky the honor of fucking you because his fingers alone brought you so much pleasure. What more if he actually started to fuck you?

“Gotta fuck you now. I’m so hard I feel like I’m about to bust a nut anytime now.” Bucky said, sitting up to remove his shirt, followed by his jeans.

He was in the process of unzipping his jeans when he suddenly stopped and looked at you, sprawled on the bed looking utterly fucked when he hasn’t even been inside you yet.

“Will you still suck my dick after I make you cum?” He asked hopefully.

You laughed out loud at his question, “You look so worried right now.” You teased. “But yes, fine. I’ll suck your cock later.” You reassured before sitting up to help him remove his pants.

Bucky then slid his boxers off, revealing his cock that you may or may not have seen in the past. It was an accident though and you didn’t meant to barge into his dorm while he was dressing up. You gotta admit, your best friend was blessed with a huge dick. And now said dick, will be the first one to enter your virgin pussy.

“Like what you see?” Bucky teased when he caught you staring as he put on a condom.

You smirked, “Actually I do.”

Bucky licked his lips as he laid on top of you, supporting his weight using his forearms as he positioned himself in between your legs. You kept your eyes on him the entire time, nodding and lifting your head up a bit to press a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Okay, I think I’m ready.” You whispered.

Bucky nodded too and nuzzled his face into your neck, “You sure?” He asked again.

You hummed, “Good luck and don’t fuck it up.”

Bucky lifted his head and looked at you incredulously, “Did you just...”

“Quote RuPaul before having sex for the first time? Yeah, I did.” You quickly answered.

Bucky scrutinized you, “You planned that didn’t you?”

You made a face, “Maybe.” You said, before the both of you broke into huge smiles.

Bucky laughed before kissing you again, “I fucking knew it.” He said before his face turned serious. “Ready?” he asked.

You nodded your head again, taking in deep breath as Bucky reached down to rub his cock against your pussy, making you whine. Kissing you again, Bucky lined up his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing in until you gasped out in pain.

“You wanna keep going?” He asked worriedly, seeing your frown.

You closed your eyes and nodded, “Yeah. Just...just do it slowly.” You said.

Your hands went to grip Bucky’s back, nails digging into his skin as he pushed and pushed, until he was balls deep inside you. The pain wasn’t that bad, but it did feel like you were being torn apart. The veins in Bucky’s neck started to bulge out from the way he was holding himself back.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Squeezing me so good, I think I’m gonna cum if I move.” He grunted, nosing the skin beneath your ear.

“Please don’t make this embarrassing for both of us.” You said. “You can move now.” You added.

Bucky slid all the way out, leaving the tip inside of you before pushing back in slowly. You let out a moan, both from pain and pleasure. His thrusts started off slow, helping you adjust to his girth and gauging your reaction.

One particular high-pitched moan gave it away. It was at that moment that the pain turned into nothing but pleasure and a few more languid thrusts later, you were chanting Bucky’s name and begging for him to go faster.

You felt so full and you simply couldn’t explain how good it felt getting fucked like this. Bucky kept on whispering praises into your ear, spurring you on as he thrusted in and out of you. The bed started to creak, the headboard hitting the wall as Bucky quickened the pace of his thrusts. You wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning his name as you felt your abdomen tighten. You could feel it coming, an impending orgasm that you’ve only been imagining. Not even your fingers rubbing your clit made you feel this way, like there was electricity running through your veins.

“Bucky, fuck...I think...” you panted, hands sliding down to grab his ass, pulling him further to you.

“Can feel it, can feel you pulsating around my cock.” Bucky panted.

Your body stilled, toes curling and vision blurring when Bucky thrusted into you at a certain angle. Just like that, you let go and moaned out loud as Bucky continued to fuck an orgasm out of you. Biting onto his shoulder, you rode out the remaining waves of your climax before laying your head back onto the pillow, watching Bucky as he followed after you, spilling his seed into the condom after a few more thrusts.

“Holy fucking shit...” he breathed out, letting his body fall onto yours.

There was a moment of silence as the both of you recovered, your pants echoing in the room. Bucky was the first to move, sliding his softening cock out of you and sitting up as he removed the condom. He went into his bathroom and disposed of it before walking back to the bed with a wet wash cloth in his hand.

“Are you still going to suck my dick?” Bucky broke the silence as he casually cleaned you up.

You lifted your head up, “Are you still hard?”

Bucky shrugged, “I can be if you want me to be.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow.” you simply responded.

“So, how did I do?” Bucky asked, continuing to clean you up in between your legs.

You bled a bit, but not to the point of staining his sheets thank god. When you didn’t respond, Bucky worried that you might have regretted this but instead, he found you grinning up at the ceiling like an idiot.

“The fuck you looking like that?” He asked, unable to hold back the smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed and closed your legs, wincing a bit at the soreness but quickly recovering. “I can’t believe we just had sex.” You said.

Bucky set aside the towel and laid back next to you, “I certainly hope I did not fuck that up.” He said.

You turned to your side and smiled at Bucky, “You didn’t. Thanks, Buck.”

There didn’t seem to be any tension nor awkwardness between the both of you after. It was pretty normal actually. After taking a bath, you both decided to order pizza for late dinner. More conversations took place until you both fell asleep on the same bed.

-

A series of knocks stirred you and Bucky awake. He was spooning you when you woke up, his arm wrapped around your waist while his face was pressed on the back of your neck. You thought you were dreaming but the knocks continued and a familiar chorus of voices made you and Bucky sit up in panic.

“James, honey? It’s your mom. Open up!”

You and Bucky looked at each other, “Why the fuck is your mom here?!” You whispered and frantically searched for your clothes.

You slept in one of Bucky’s shirts and a pair of panties and for some reason, you couldn’t find your clothes from last night. Bucky frantically ran around the dorm, grabbing your bag and throwing it under Steve’s bed.

“I don’t know why she’s here! She didn’t text me!” He whispered, checking his phone for any unread messages.

“James, come on now. We want to visit Y/N too so we can all have breakfast together.”

You knew that voice all too well, it was your mom’s! Bucky’s eyes widened when he heard you mom’s voice. He just took away her daughter’s virginity last night, how the hell was he going to look at her in the eyes after that?

Bucky grabbed your arm and pushed you into the bathroom, warning you to stay quiet. You were about to protest but Bucky quickly slammed the door shut. Pressing an ear against it, you listened as Bucky hurried over to the front door, opening it.

“Mom!” You heard him say before greeting your mom.

“Sweetie, did you just wake up? You look like a mess.” His mom said.

“What are you guys doing here?” Bucky asked nervously.

There were a few movements that were too near the bathroom, you almost readied yourself for a grand reveal. Fortunately, Bucky seemed to have blocked the bathroom and tried to distract his mom.

“Well, we thought of surprising you and Y/N. We missed you both. Go get dressed so we can pick her up from her dorm.” You heard your mom say.

“Ohhh I uhh...why don’t you both head out first and I can go pick her up? We’ll just meet you both somewhere.” Bucky suggested.

“Oh sweetie, I wanted to surprise my daughter at her dorm.” Your mom said.

Fuck. You were so fucked. Your mom’s gonna find out that you’re no longer a virgin and that it was Bucky who took it. The same guy she entrusted you to upon moving out for college.

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t tell her we’ll be meeting you. She’s uhh...I think she might have slept over at a friend’s actually. To do a project. So she might not be at her dorm. I’ll just pick her up.” Bucky quickly explained.

Sleepover at a friend’s? That wasn’t entirely a lie. The project? Well, the task of giving up your v-card could be considered a project. So no, Bucky wasn’t lying to your mom at all.

Silence. A few more shuffling and movements here and there. You heard the front door creak. Finally.

“Oh alright, James. We’ll go ahead. Meet us at the new breakfast place two blocks away from the university, okay?” His mom said.

You heaved out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll be there.” Bucky said and from the sounds of it, he seemed to be pushing both your moms out of his room.

“Make sure to pick Y/N up. I know she tends to skip out on our breakfast dates. Make sure that she’ll come, James.” Your mom warned.

True enough, you tended to bail out on your mom’s breakfast dates. Not because you don’t miss her, but because it was too early! You’ve turned her down a couple of times now so you knew what she meant. But Bucky, god. He just had to make everything into a double entendre.

And without shame, he looked into your mom’s eyes and offered her a charming grin as if he wasn’t balls deep inside her virgin daughter last night.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she does. I’ll make her come.”

-

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#bbbwrites #oneshots: bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan

[inkykeiji]

i have the warmth of the sun within me tonight

characters: takami keigo | hawks

genre: smut n fluff

notes: this piece was written with someone specific in mind, but i wanted to share it here, too!! this is, by far, the healthiest and most wholesome piece i’ve ever posted on my blog ehehe | title cred: the warmth of the sun by the beach boys

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, reader is extremely scared of thunderstorms, v romantic, shower sex, minimal prep, slight size difference/size kink

words: 4.6k

synopsis:

“Make it stop, Kei, please, m-make it stop, make it go away,” the words are nearly inaudible, wept into his chest and muffled by his jacket, snarled, snared, snagged on the choked sobs and gagged sniffles that scrabble and tear at your throat with their razored talons.

And even drenched, clothes sopping with rainwater, he’s still so warm, like he has liquid sun flowing through his veins, scalding waves of heat radiating off of his body and seeping into yours, cozy and consoling as it douses you, as it sinks into your skin, your bones, your soul itself and marinates there, twisting and twirling into a small ball of sunshine, of him, that sends pulsing zaps of warmth circulating through your flesh.

It’s dark. It’s so dark it almost looks like night despite the fact that it’s only late afternoon, heavy bloated clouds—charcoal and fluffy and overstuffed with raindrops—obscuring the safety of comforting golden rays from the entire city.

The torrential downpour feels endless, and for a brief second you’re terrified it truly may never stop, streets below having flooded with the rain, cars slowly wading through them, tires spraying out streams of water as they do.

Magnificent strikes of lightning crack through the dreary sky like thick roots snaking through the foggy canopy of smoke and steel, momentarily tainting them in shades of periwinkle and lavender and casting flashes of brilliant silver light across the skyscrapers and condominiums.

Their sudden presence makes you jolt, a rapid shudder working its way through your entire body, skin pebbling with chills in its wake.

But it isn’t the lightning that bothers you—not really, anyway.

It’s what comes after.

Rumbles of thunder so loud, so violent they cause the glass windows of Keigo’s apartment to quiver and the hardwood beneath your feet to tremble, roll through the sky, and you swear you can see the clouds ripple from the force.

Arms squeezing tighter around your body, your fingers curl in the material of your—his—hoodie, desperately attempting to resist the urge to grab your phone, to frantically scroll through social media as worried eyes scan for any mention of his name, for shreds of dreadful news, for things you never want to hear.

You hate it when he has to work in storms such as these. And you know, you know you shouldn’t be watching the sky, shouldn’t be searching the splotches of gunmetal adorning the atmosphere for a glimmer of scarlet and gold, shouldn’t be standing so close to the pristine glass windows that your uneven puffs of nervous breath cloud them, tiny blankets of condensation left by the hot air you exhale fleetingly staining the surface, evaporating into nothing just as quickly as they appear.

But you can’t help it. It’s a compulsion, almost—like some sort of sick obsession, some sort of twisted addiction you can’t control. Because—Because you have to know, unable to stand that feeling of uncertainty that gnaws away at your insides, incapable of handling the ambiguity and vagueness that comes packaged with the not knowing. You have to at least try—try to do everything in your power to stay informed, and if that means facing a vicious thunderstorm head on, with your cheek pressed against the cold glass as your gaze searches the tumultuous sky, then so be it.

You can brave it for him. You swear you can.

“Baby,” he scolds gently, his sudden presence surprising you, causing you to throw a quick glance over your shoulder. Topaz eyes observe you, overflowing with concern, pretty bowed lips turning down, soaked strands of gold hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks and neck. “How many times have I told you not to do this?” And although he’s reprimanding you, his voice is sweet, smooth and syrupy like the finest honey. “You know how much thunder freaks you out,”

You scoff, stiffening almost defensively as you turn your nose up a little, still avoiding his eyes. “It doesn’t freak me out,”

“Oh?” he laughs a little as he kicks off his boots, tension easing from his shoulders with every step towards you, every step further into the warm sanctuary of your shared home, wet sock-clad feet slapping against the hardwood and leaving gleaming footprints.

“Kei,” you whine a little, gesturing his dripping body. “You’re getting water everywhere,”

“Hey now,” a playful smirk spreads across his lips, and a sudden, sharp whoosh slices through the air as his wings spread, spanning nearly half the living room. He gives them one good, thorough shake, crimson feathers trembling and sending tiny droplets of water flying. “I wasn’t done,” he speaks over your squeal of his name, smirk growing into that trademark mischievous grin. “You shouldn’t just stand at the window and stare up at the sky—it only scares you more,”

“I’m not scared,”

Vicious growls of thunder roil through the sky before you’re even finished speaking, almost as if it’s laughing at you, mocking you, your body flinching as the sounds crash over you, curling in on yourself a little, face puckered up in a wince as your words stutter, catching on a gasp in your throat.

Exhaling a soft sigh, Keigo holds his arms open wide, wings still stretched to span them. “Yeah, right. C’mere,” When you don’t begin moving immediately, he sighs again, strong hands gently pulling you towards him.

Your body melts into his touch—an automatic and involuntary reaction, almost instinctual at this point—and you slump against his damp chest, nuzzling your cheek against the firm muscles.

“I’ve got you,” he says softly, arms wrapping around your body as he holds you tightly to his, voice reverberating against your ear. “The Big Bad Scary Thunder can’t get you here,”

Eyes rolling, you scoff at his playful teasing, a tiny smile materializing on your face as you pull away a little to look up at him, greeted with the sight of brilliant eyes—made of sunshine and liquid gold, you’re absolutely sure of it—gazing down at you, lips quirked in a cute little smirk.

His beauty never fails to knock the breath from your chest—it seems you can never be prepared for it; no matter how many times you’ve seen him, how many times you’ve been close enough to count the individual eyelashes lining those orbs, how many times you’ve been close enough to feel the inviting tickle of the short golden hairs decorating his chin—and you’re not sure you’ll never get used to it, either.

A peculiar mix of adoration and concern swirl in his honey irises, though you can see the mirth and amusement dancing just beyond that, thinly veiled by the love and worry.

“Oh, shut up—” another bang of thunder fissures through the sky, so raucous it makes the thick clouds waver and swell, your words morphing into a fearful little squeak, quickly burying your head back against the safety of his chest.

Fingers curl in the wet suede and you hug yourself closer to him, tugging him closer to you, body beginning to shudder.

He’s hushing you now, arms and wings curled around you in a defensive embrace as words of comfort pry past his lips, tender voice sheathing the armor of crimson surrounding you.

“At least they aren’t as bad as the ones back home, yeah?”

“I guess so,” you mumble, unconvinced, eyebrows knitted and mouth sculpted into a deep pout. “I still don’t like them, though,”

“I know, I know,” a warm hand rubs soothing circles into your back, voice only marginally louder than the next bout of thunder as it vibrates against your face, another quiet yelp clawing its way up your throat. “Shh, you’re safe, you’re safe,”

“Kei,”

The nickname escapes in a mangled little whimper, and you can feel it—fright, terror, dread—building in your chest, a strangling type of panic that weaves and winds itself around your windpipe and crushes; because they’re getting worse, they’re getting closer, growls and grumbles following the flashes of lightning almost immediately, roaring loud enough to quake buildings, your heart thudding so violently it’s almost painful. Tears sting your eyes, and you shake your head against him, as if trying to burrow into his chest, to carve out a little space in his ribcage, right next to his steadily beating heart, and live there.

“I-I take it back, they are as bad as the ones back home,”

Or, at least, this one is

Keigo doesn’t argue, all traces of amusement evaporated from his face, replaced by trepidation that mixes with his worry and pinches his features, eyebrows furrowed and lips downturned as he cradles you against him. Ferocious tremors course through your form, chest beginning to hitch with swallowed sobs, and he squeezes you.

“Make it stop, Kei, please, m-make it stop, make it go away,” the words are nearly inaudible, wept into his chest and muffled by his jacket, snarled, snared, snagged on the choked sobs and gagged sniffles that scrabble and tear at your throat with their razored talons.

And even drenched, clothes sopping with rainwater, he’s still so warm, like he has liquid sun flowing through his veins, scalding waves of heat radiating off of his body and seeping into yours, cozy and consoling as it douses you, as it sinks into your skin, your bones, your soul itself and marinates there, twisting and twirling into a small ball of sunshine, of him, that sends pulsing zaps of warmth circulating through your flesh.

“Okay, alright,” he’s saying as he rocks you gently, crimson wings wrapped entirely around you both, shielding you from the storm. The scent of freshly mown grass and sticky vanilla ice cream is nearly overwhelming as it washes over your senses, invading your lungs and smothering you in its embrace. It’s a welcomed feeling, the beautiful suffocation it affords you with, vibrant bursts of heat rushing through your veins, whole body flooded and thrumming with a deep-seated comfort—a special type of solace, of reassurance, of contentment unique to him, unfathomable and mystifying on all accounts, that soothes your frayed nerves and calms your irregular heart—because he smells like home; not your home halfway across the world, your real home, your forever home.

“Come,” he instructs a moment later, stern yet tender, keeping an arm draped firmly around your shoulders, one of his wings curving around the limb as he leads you away from the window, scarlet feathers obstructing your vision.

—

The bathroom—comprised of gleaming marble and shining chrome—is enormous, housing a mammoth glass shower that spans the length of the furthest wall, large enough to more-than-comfortably accommodate his wings, and then some.

Steam fogs the glass, and a soft hiss slips from between your teeth as he cages you between his chiseled body and the freezing marble, cold rock stinging your already heated skin, his wings spreading to mimic his arms, providing another layer of protection and entirely immersing you in him.

It’s your favourite when he does this, when he engulfs you in his grasp and creates a tiny universe where it’s just the two of you, whole world having fallen away outside of the barricade his thick wings offer—and you’ve never felt safer.

And it’s amazing, you’re thinking to yourself—or maybe you’re murmuring it, lips moving in a daze—it’s amazing how even after all of the rainwater pouring from the sky, all of the zipping through those dense clouds, all of the vicious wind that whips against him as he soars; none of it could ever manage to wash away, to ever dull, his intoxicating scent, not even for a second.

You’re completely overcome by him, vanquished by his enamoring eyes and his saccharine smile—drunk and high off of it all, addicted to him in the sweetest way—and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

But you’re leaning into him, closer and closer and closer, lips parted as you inhale deeply, filling your lungs, your chest, your heart and veins and blood with his aura, his essence, him. He conquers you, intoxicates you, poisons you in such a beautiful way, and you’re enchanted by it, yearning for more, a greedy and insatiable craving that will never be fulfilled.

And he knows it. He knows the effect he has on you by merely existing near you—his cocky smirk and dazzling gaze tell you so.

But then his eyes soften, glazing over with something else, lidded as they slowly travel across your body bared to him, and his mouth falls open only for his tongue to suck his bottom lip between his teeth, and his fingers reach to trace your features, the curve of your cheek and line of your jaw, the most gentle caress.

“You…Are breathtaking,”

And he really does sound out of breath, as if he’s in awe from your beauty, as if this is his first time seeing you, as if you’re some sort of goddess, having descended right in front of him, and it forces chills to erupt across your bare skin—damp and splattered with tiny droplets of water that gleam like morning dew clinging to grass—despite how boiling it is between him and the steam from the shower.

It’s a feeling you can’t quite explain, a feeling you’ve never really been able to find the appropriate words for, something that makes you feel simultaneously powerful and weak, a swirling concoction of contradictions that invade your bloodstream and travel straight to your brain, infusing the tissues with the potent mix and sending tiny sparks buzzing through your veins, collecting to flutter together in the pit of your stomach.

He kisses you slowly, tonight. He kisses you like it’s his last day to live, kisses you like it’s his first time, unhurried tongue deliberately exploring the concavities of your mouth—every nook and ridge and crevice—as if committing them to memory, as if attempting to leave his stamp, his mark, his claim, on the real estate there.

He kisses you until neither of you can breathe, lungs shriveling as your chests heave, exhaling into each other’s mouths only to suck breath from each other’s mouths a moment later. He kisses you until you’re dizzy from the lack of air and he’s burning and hard and pressed up against your thigh, leaking head rubbing against the supple skin, leaving the prettiest gleaming trails of cream. He kisses you until you’ve gone stupid from his spit alone, fervent in the way you swallow it greedily, in the way you attempt to suck, slurp, steal more from him as it surges to your brain, tissues and nerves vaporizing into nothing more than a dazed mist, spiked with him.

The kiss breaks with a sharp whoosh of air, his lids lifting to reveal glassy pupils outlined with the thinnest ring of amber. Your tongue darts out from your mouth to lick and lap at the stringy, viscous remnants coating your chin; starved, ravenous, and forever unsated.

The chuckle huffed out from between swollen, saliva-soaked lips is nothing short of sinful, makes your vision blur and your stomach swoop, a murmured tease following it.

“Eager, aren’t you,”

And you want to point out that you weren’t the one practically humping someone’s hip, but the words tangle in your throat, catching on a gasp as nimble fingers slip between the apex of your thighs, an involuntary groan spilling from his throat.

“Fuck,” his head falls forward, face buried in your neck, and sucks an inhale through his teeth. “How are you already this wet?”

He’s nearly whining as he dips two fingers into you, soft little sounds that fall from his lips and sop into your skin, his breath scorching—sizzling more than the steam in the shower—against your neck.

And those fingers, now plunging into you, knuckles curling the moment they’re deep enough to press moans from your chest and cries from your throat, feel so familiar as they stretch you open—the same fingers that pet your hair and brush away your tears and feed you pieces of fried chicken; they feel like home.

Yet as comforting as that is, as much as it has your chest swelling with something so large, so dense you’re terrified your ribs may shatter and splinter under the strain, they aren’t enough. Not right now, not today.

Because even with the water hitting the tiles and the exquisite symphony of his pants and your mewls, you can still hear it, menacing blasts encroaching on you, deep and heavy and threatening to split the little world Keigo has created, the small haven his wings and arms provide.

“Please, please, Kei,” you’re nearly wailing out, forcing bleary eyes to open, belated in the way they find his gaze. “I-I want you, I need you,”

“Sweetheart,” he starts—and you know that tone, stitched together with hesitation and concern and embellished with thin ribbons of patronization. “You know you can’t take me without being opened up at least a lil’ first,”

Another clap of thunder rattles the apartment, sounding as if it’s just outside the bathroom door, ranting and raging to get in, and both of your hands claw at his wrist, trying to pull his hand away as words bubble past your lips, high and terrified and desperate.

“No, Kei, not tonight. Please, baby, please, I need you now, right now, Kei, right now, pl-please,” and you’re nearly choking on the pleads as they barrel up your throat and out your mouth, all garbled together and stuffed with spit. “I can handle it, promise,”

A hoarse whine hitches in his throat, the worried knitting of his eyebrows carving creases into his forehead. With pinched features and a scrunched face, it looks almost as if he’s in pain; like it’s pure agony to deny you. And you can see it, can see the internal struggle reflected in his eyes, stare wrought with the tug and pull between desire and care. But that need is growing, spreading, curling around your organs in a tight embrace, suffocating you with its urgency.

A final please, Keigo, croaked out in a broken whimper and thick with the threat of tears, is what breaks him, shatters his resolve to a fine dust and whisks it away in one breath.

“Alright,” he’s murmuring, though his voice is strained, tense and gruff under the combined paradoxical weight of lust and apprehension. “Alright, hush now, I’ve got you,”

Then he’s hoisting you up, and your legs are wrapping around his waist, one hand clutching the top of the glass door, the other digging bruises into his neck as he buries his cock inside of you in one swift movement, a set of relieved gasps escaping you both.

It stings a little, sharp pinpricks shooting through your gut as his thick cock stretches you open, but they’re chased promptly by thorns of pleasure that dissipate the pain.

Because he feels so good, and you feel so full, and everything feels so perfect like this—everything feels right again.

But a boom of thunder explodes through this moment, blowing it to bits and pieces, and you reflexively jump, whole body flinching in his arms.

“Shh,” he’s whispering to you as he pulls you closer, chest pressed flush against yours. “Don’t worry, songbird, I’m gonna make it better, alright? Just focus on me,”

And so you do, eyes slipping shut as his hips begin to pump—slow at first, almost languid in the way they roll forward, each thrust thorough, cock nearly entirely unsheathed before it plunges back in, the head nudging your cervix, and you revel in the delicious cracks rasps—of your name, of curses, and praises—that fall from his lips with each rut.

“S’deep,” you mumble, words already jumbled from the carnal bliss, from the hedonistic decadence that surrounds you, emanating off him and percolating into you, instantly diffusing the tension and panic knotted like thick vines in your chest—even though he’s barely fucking done anything. “S’deep, Kei,”

“Yeah?” the word fans across your face, sweet and fragrant, hazy eyes opening to be met with glittering gold, strands of honeysuckle hair stuck to his forehead and temples, framing the dark gaze watching you, pupils almost voracious in the way they soak up your expressions, almost greedy in the way they scan your face as his hips move, looking for more. His forehead knocks against yours, penetrating stare boring into your face. “Good? My baby like it?”

“So good,” your head nods in small movements with the whimpered affirmation, bumping against his. It’s already beginning to build, smoldering deep in the pit of your stomach, the spark that had been dulled when you had begged him to stop, begged him to give you more—to stretch and fill and form you like your insides were made for him—reigniting, bright and scalding.

“More, please,”

It just slips from your lips, brain already beginning to melt as you allow yourself to be submerged, swallowed and consumed by him; an innate desire that swamps your mind and floods your senses, and you want it all.

But he complies without complaint this time, void of the usual teasing remarks and requests that you beg for it, because he can see how depleted, how drained you are, utterly exhausted from the terror of the storm, his understanding evident in a gentle confirmation tumbling from his lips.

And his groans and grunts are so beautiful, vibrating deep in the recesses of his chest, louder than any thunder as they rumble in your ears. You find solace in them, gulping them in as he pushes them out, letting them vibrate down the column of your throat and collect deep in your belly, kindling with the flickering embers that burn and glow and multiply with each thrust, furling together in a tense ball of churning heat.

The canting of his hips increases, faster and faster and faster with each rock forward, the escalating force resulting in your body to rubbing against the marble and glass, tightly curled fingers readjusting themselves, slipping a little from the foggy condensation coating the surface.

You don’t even realize that your sensitive skin’s been rubbed raw from the action, too tangled up in his noises, his pleasure, his cock, to notice, too tangled up in him to care at all.

“Here,” Keigo pants out, hips suddenly stilling. A low whine catches in your throat, eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to fuck yourself on his cock, a breathless snicker escaping his parted lips. “I know, baby, I know,” he’s telling you as strong arms readjust you, folded wings suddenly spanning, a gentle gust of air bathing your slick body in little goosebumps, before they wrap around him—around you—sheltering you from the glass and marble as they swoop under your ass and thighs, aiding Keigo in supporting your weight. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you, I promise,”

And it’s so much hotter like this, so much more intimate like this, uneven puffs of breath mingling as his forehead rests against yours, florescent lights reflecting off of his thick feathers and tinting everything—his skin, his eyes, his hair—scarlet.

The sudden snap of his hips startles a moan out of you, and he laughs again, carmine-tinged topaz eyes positively glowing. And he looks so gorgeous like this, looks like a fucking god like this, those fine gold hairs that cover his body catching in the soft light and shimmering.

He’s kissing, licking, nipping anywhere he can reach, stamping your flesh with physical manifestations of his love, pace never faltering as skilled, powerful hips continue to pound into you, cockhead dragging against that spot with every buck.

Your legs flex around his waist, muscles coiling as the sphere roiling in your stomach blazes, curled into a concentrated ball of fire. The heat it exudes is nearly unbearable now, heavy as it sinks into your gut, glowing orb spiraling as it coils, tighter and tighter and tighter until—

“Want you to cum for me, baby,” Keigo nearly keens, almost as if he’s begging you instead of commanding, voice cutting through the dense haze your brain has evaporated into. “Can y’do that for me? Be good and cum all over my cock?”

Yes, yes, yes, your head is nodding, emitting affirmatives in the form of high little mewls with each jerk. And it only takes two more sharp pistons of his hips before the fire-filled ball bursts, half of his name escaping your throat in a fractured cry as your entire body stiffens, cunt clenching so vigorously it’s almost painful.

Words start to spill from his mouth, an endless stream of praises, sandwiched between dark groans and broken whines and hitched curses; Y’so good for me, y’know that? Ah, f-fuck—So gorgeous when you gush all over my—my cock, baby, y’feel so good, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Hot, thick cum fills you suddenly, coinciding with his last choked out declaration of love, cock throbbing as it spurts rope after rope, taut stuttering hips pressed flush against your skin.

—

Everything aches as you unwind your limbs from around him, muscles sore and legs trembling as Keigo forces you to stand, propping you up against the shower wall and returning with the fluffiest towel only a moment later. Large hands pull you towards him, dragging you from under the shower head and into his arms, swaddling your shivering body in Egyptian cotton and strong arms and soft feathers.

He leaves the shower running on purpose, steady flow of water hitting the tiled floor and marbled wall, efficiently drowning out any roars or claps of thunder.

And you’re so tired, so pliant and boneless in his arms, barely able to keep your weighted eyelids from fluttering shut. He keeps you in his lap as he sits on the closed toilet, cradling you to his chest as best he can as he gently rocks you back and forth, whispering out praises—you did so well, you always look so gorgeous taking my cock—and avowals of his love, constant words oozing from his lips, sentiments cascading over your body like a stream of thick syrup.

Unconsciousness has you in its clutches, nearly slipping into the familiar embrace that promises the numbing ecstasy that comes with such an intense orgasm, until your tummy growls, and Keigo laughs.

“No, sweetheart,” he chides softly as you nuzzle into his chest, an indignant noise sounding at the back of your throat. “You have to eat at least a little before you can fall asleep,”

“Don’wanna,”

“I know,” he’s saying sympathetically as he stands, placing your feet on the floor a moment later. You wobble a little, eyes still shut, and he chuckles again, murmuring to himself about how fucking cute you are as he begins to dress you, tugging soft fleece that reeks of him over your head.

—

The rain has slowed to a drizzle by the time you’ve been clothed and fed, constant and leaking from the clouds overhead as you snuggle against Keigo in the plush sanctuary of your shared bed, tummy full and happy with roasted chicken and sauteed veggies. A deep contentment settles itself in your bones, weaving itself around the ivory in a protective glaze and imbuing you with a sense of calm, a sense of relaxation, a sense of relief, and you hum, Keigo’s lithe fingers trailing up your spine absentmindedly.

If you’re being honest, you’re not quite sure how he did it, how he slipped, slithered, seeped through the few cracks in your defence without being violent, without being forceful—how he tore down all of the barricades and shields you had built around yourself, hardened and firm from several years of paranoia and distrust, from the perpetual fear of being hurt again. It should scare you, really, how quickly he did it, how easily and inconspicuously he did it. But it doesn’t.

It doesn’t, because he did it with love; stripping those protective walls with genuity and sincerity, dismantling every brick and stone with gentle touches and soft kisses and tender words. He did it with respect, with patience, with passion and affection and devotion.

So it doesn’t, because there’s nothing to fear—because you’ve never felt more safe in your life, here enveloped by his strong arms and cozy wings, resting on his chest, legs tangled in knots together.

And as you drift off to the gentle pat-pat-pat of the raindrops against the windowpane and the steady thumping of Keigo’s heart echoing in your ears, you realize he’s your very own ray of sunshine, forever present to keep those menacing clouds and malicious thunder away, even in the strongest, the harshest, and the scariest of storms.

#takami keigo x reader #takami keigo smut #bnha smut #hawks smut #hawks x reader #takami keigo #hawks #AAAAAH ITS SO VANILLA LMAO #it's really sweet tho #i hope it brings some of you some comfort and feelings of buzzy happiness <333

[aetherarf]

hi! i’m seeing your diluc father figure headcanons and i wanna ask if you can write some where reader had lost their parents and at a young age clung on to diluc and saw them as their father? (*´v｀) thank u!

Deciding to write the scene where Diluc adopts reader.

Also, AGAIN, I'm aware 'x reader' is romantic in nature BUT I JUST TAG IT FOR TRACTION. This fic is completely platonic/famillial in nature.

[[ Platonic / Famillial ]]

[[ Summary: Just a wandering child through Mondstadt, fighting to get a meal each night, until a kind man shows up...

Word Count: 2'034 ]]

The thunder boomed overhead, and the tears on your face felt like nothing amongst the rain that hit your face. Soaked to the bone, you couldn't even see far enough in the darkness to tell where the nearest building must be, much less the nearby city, or even Springvale!

You just wanted to run, the lightening having struck far too close for your liking, watching a poor, innocent tree explode into little pieces, close enough that it could've easily scorched you alive.

So you ran, you ran until you saw some odd... Structures. In the midst of night, and through the horrific rain, you truly had no idea what they could be, but as you set your hand on them, they seemed... stable. Stable and covered in leaves. It didn't do the best job at shielding you from the rain, but it made the wind that much less painful as it raked its claws over your skin...

The sky lit up, and then thunder rang out, you slamming your hands on your ears, feeling your very eardrums tremble at the horrific noise, your tears mixed in with the cold rain as you began to sob, just wanting it all to... to...!

"Hey,"

You jumped and screamed, staring at whatever spoke--

A... person? You heard the noise of rain pitter pattering on an umbrella, and as far as you could tell, he seemed dry... mostly.

"Are you lost?" A mans voice, but in the dark, you could only see his silhouette... You stared at him...

"I-I," you found yourself searching for words "I don't ha-have anywhere to go."

There was a moment of silence, and thunder rang out again, and you could only flinch-- but the man held out his hand, and the lightning was enough to let you see.

"Come inside, I'll keep you safe and warm for the night." He offered, and you... stared. Maybe you should be worried, but...

Thunder crackled, and you didn't just grab his hand, you leapt into his arms, he staggered, but his arm wrapped around you, shifting and picking you up with one arm, the other still holding the umbrella--it was a little incredible that he was carrying you so easily, but...

... You were more thinking about how warm he was, you had been cold for so long, dark windy nights alone, or the rain haunting you, you forgot warmth outside of the sun on your skin, which felt all too fleeting with the winds forcing clouds between the both of you.

The man walked inside the Winery, stopping to set the umbrella against the wall, and shutting the door firmly behind him, setting you down onto the ground.

You looked at the entire winery... it... it was so nice! So... warm...

The thunder rang again, but it wasn't all that loud. Sure, it was a little scary, but... It was distant now, the walls of stone protected you.

"Little bird," He said, and you froze, then looked up at him-- he had already pulled off his coat, "Get your shoes off, please," He had set the coat over your shoulders--so large, it had partially dragged on the ground when you wore it, "I don't think there's any clothes that can fit you here, but I'll find something warm and dry for you for the night."

You toed off your shoes, leaving them near the front door... but you looked at them for a moment, then at him--He was already walking off, and your feet hit the ground as you chased after him, until you bumped into his legs, and he looked back at you...

... his eyes were... really bright.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, turning around to face you.

"... Where are you going?"

He raised his brow, the first true expression you've seen from him, "Getting something for you to wear."

You looked down for a moment, then back at him, your mouth agape for a moment as you wondered if it was out of line to ask...

"Can-can... I come?"

He looked at you for a moment, before he replied, "I'm not doing anything interesting, but you can come."

You felt a wave of relief, he didn't seem mad at all, and you didn't have to be alone... while you were used to being alone, a single second without having a choice in the matter felt like it was going to rip you up from the inside out.

He held out his hand again-- and, compared to yours, it was large. You grabbed it, and he gently tugged on his arm, and by extension, you, before he began to walk. You looked at the surrounding area, and every so often, he gestured to a door or hallway, "Restroom that way," "This is likely the room you'll be staying in," He clearly wanted you to know where to go.

Finally, you stopped at a door, "This is my room, you'll likely have to wear a shirt of mine until we can get you some clothes of your own... Just for tonight, is that alright?"

You looked down at your own clothes, wet and torn and... well, they had long since outlasted their usage. The coat, his coat, was the only nice thing you were wearing, or had worn in a long time.

"Oh, that's... that's okay!" You half squeaked out... even if it was a big shirt, if it was warm and dry... well, you were happy.

He looked back at you, eyeing you for a second...

"I could run a bath for you, as well. It'd probably been awhile."

It felt a little mean that he said that, but... it was true.

"Uhm, that's nice, but... you're already being so nice, Mister... You don't have to."

"Nonesense," he gently chided, "You're a child, you deserve to be taken care of..." For a second, he was confused, "And I can assume you have no parents to take care of you."

"... No. I don't." That was the simple answer.

"Well... I'm not very good with people," he admitted, looking at a shirt--it was a dark grey, and definitely too big for you... but it seemed somewhat smaller than the rest of his clothes, the only thing that you wouldn't be pathetically dwarfed in. "But I'm not about to let a little bird like you freeze in the rain."

You didn't know how to feel...

"Thank you, Mister..."

"You don't need to thank me... just try not to make a mess, and we'll be even, alright?"

That was... right, you could do that.

"Now, do you want me to run a bath? I could cook something for you while you're in there."

"... that would be nice."

He grabbed the clothes, and brought you to the bathroom, getting it set up, putting some odd... salts? And a few drops of an odd liquid into the tub, it smelled... nice. He left so you could tend to yourself, giving you all the privacy you could need.

After a long, warm bath, you took the liberty of draining the tub and [trying, at least] to rinse it out... Just to make sure any mud or grime that was on your skin didn't stick to the edges, but you weren't really sure if you did a good enough job... No matter what, it had been a long time since you felt clean and relaxed, but you still wanted a meal in your tummy before sleeping... besides, sleeping in water was bad... You didn't remember who said that, but someone got mad at you for it.

The shirt and shorts you were given were awkward at best, you tying a knot into the bottom of the shirt, so you wouldn't trip over it, but it still went almost to your knees. You walked around, trying to remember where everything was, but the gentle sound of metal clicking metal alerted you to him.

Finding him cooking, he was cooking something that smelled... good. Maybe a little bit spicy? Smelled good, though.

"Uhm," the noise was more to alert Diluc to your presence than anything else, "Sir?"

"Take a seat," He nodded his head to the table, and you walked over, the tile cold beneath your feet... but much more preferable to the feeling of destroyed shoes getting stuck in half frozen mud, "It's a simple dish," he said, "Just some vegetables and meat. I know, you probably don't like vegetables, but they're good for you..."

"I'm sure it'll be yummy." It had been so long since you've eaten a proper meal, he could probably put dirt on a plate and you'd gobble it up.

A few moments of silence, and you mostly just kicked your feet as you waited, and he set a heaping plate of food in front of you, "You don't have to finish your plate," he said, "And if you want more, there's more. I'm going to get your room ready."

"Wait, uhm, sir?" You asked, and he didn't even get a chance to walk off, "I... I don't wanna be alone."

He stared at you for a moment... he was definitely a weird man, but not in a bad way. In a sort of... an ugly dog with a broken snout is weird and different, but not bad. Maybe it's nicer than other dogs.

"Do you want me to stay with you until you're done?"

"Y-yeah, but, uhm..."

You didn't want to be alone in this stormy night. He seemed strong, he carried you like you were no heavier than a bag of feathers.

"Do you," he examined your face, "Want to sleep in my bed, with me?"

You looked down, fiddling with your fork.

"Is that okay?"

For a second, he was silent. He was probably thinking.

"If you really want to, then I suppose that's fine."

You couldn't help but beam, oh... your last fear for the night was gone. Food in your tummy, clean, warm, and you wouldn't have to be alone...

For a second, there was dread for tomorrow, when it was, no doubt, your time to leave, but you refused to think about it. He was so nice, maybe... Maybe you could stay? You'd be okay with working for him! It was better than being all alone...

"Sir?" You asked, as he was cleaning something,

"You can call me Diluc."

The name was... familiar.

"Oh, uhm... Diluc? What's going to happen tomorrow?"

The sound of scrubbing ceased, and he turned his head to look at you out of the corner of his eye, "What do you mean?"

You looked down again, "Well, you're really nice, and... uhm... I know you're being nice because it's rainy... but I don't have anywhere to go." You said, poking at your food, "I-I know! You must be super duper busy, but... I can work for you! I kinda know how to clean!"

Diluc fully looked at you, and it was pure bewilderment on his face, and if it wasn't your fear of him yelling at you, it would've been funny,

"Absolutely not, you're a child," he said, "You can stay with me for as long as you need. We can talk about finding you a proper family another time, all you need to worry about is... well, kid things."

"... You... I can stay?"

"Of course. I'm not going to abandon a child." He insisted, returning to cleaning, "You don't need to worry about 'adult things', about how to take care of yourself. You should, I don't know, worry about making friends or maybe about your studies, or about what you want to do that day. The fact that you're so worried about..."

He sighed.

"I'm sorry, you've done nothing wrong. Trust me," the sound of him setting down a plate, "You're safe as long as I have anything to do with it, alright?"

You sort of just stared... One part of you wanted to cry, but as he walked over, he-

You flinched, but all he did was affectionately pat your back.

"Eat, little bird, it won't be as good if you wait for it to get any colder."

Now all you worried about was how fast you could get it in your stomach, and then get to bed.

#genshin impact #diluc #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #genshin x reader #bark writes #hurt and comfort #fluffy bark #// was gonna make it longer but #// cant rlly overdo myself lest i make less content for everyone

[fruitcoops]

YES TO THE SNIPPETS YES PLEASE

Thanks to everyone who asked for this! You're amazing! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

You can find the inspiration/ sequel here! Thanks to AJ and Lev for their hcs about the smutty situations, and to the discord for the last snippet!

Combined with a prompt for some relaxed Coops smut

I

Remus fell on the bed and immediately yelped as if he’d been hit. “What?” Sirius asked, concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Just bruised,” he said with a grimace, rubbing one thigh.

Sirius frowned and knelt at the edge of the bed. “Why are you bruised?”

“I got checked yesterday, remember?” He winced as Sirius gently prodded the base of the bruise and pulled his shorts off; he made a soft, sad noise, pressing a kiss to the blue-black skin. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Still. I don’t like it.” Sirius’ lower lip stuck out slightly in a pout, and he guided his face back down for a kiss.

“Everything else is a-okay,” he murmured, trailing a path of light bites down the column of his neck as he laid back. “C’mere, I’ll prove it.”

II

The world was starting to go black at the edges, popping with fireworks as Remus scrambled for purchase on the strong forearms by his ribs. Sirius’ hold on him was firm, and had been for the past—oh, god, how long had he been like this? Ten minutes? An hour? Eternity? Another shudder rocked through him and he moaned around the fabric clenched tight between his teeth.

“Good boy,” Sirius panted as he hiked Remus’ shaking leg up around his hip. “There you go, you’re doing so well.”

An unsteady whine broke through as well; the mattress creaked beneath him, and through his delirious happiness he wondered if this would be the day they finally broke it. Sirius was so painfully close to where Remus needed him most, just a little bit more—

“Fucking hell,” Sirius muttered, wrapping his palms around Remus’ hips and hauling him into the right spot. His thighs clenched around Sirius’ waist as he babbled his approval, no longer registering the damp in his mouth or anything that came out of it. “Come on, just a little—oh my fucking god.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. Remus slammed his hand down on the bed with an embarrassing noise of half-confusion, half-protest. Sirius’ voice had gone up about eight octaves; his gaze was no longer dark with lust, but instead laser-focused on something to Remus’ left. “The fuck are you doing?” he managed to snap when his jaw finally released, though his tongue was mostly blocked by fabric.

“Don’t. Move.”

Fear crept in alongside his frustration as Sirius pulled his arms to his chest and scooted toward the other edge. Something is very wrong. The thought sent a wash of cold through him and he carefully sat up, pulling the gag from his mouth. “Honey, are you okay?”

“Why is it getting closer?” Sirius all but whimpered. Remus steeled his nerves and slowly turned to follow his sightline.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he complained. There was no relief, just building crankiness. “Really?”

“Kill it. Please.” Remus ground his teeth and dug a tissue out of the nightstand, then squished the microscopic spider and immediately chucked the tissue at Sirius. “Remus, oh my god!”

“Please tell me there was something more than that,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What do you mean?”

Keep your tone even and calm, no matter how much you want to scream. “Sirius. If you stopped fucking the soul out of my body for a spider the size of a dust mote, you can say goodbye to pre-game blowjobs.”

A moment of silence fell between them. “For how long?”

Remus glared at him and hoped his pink cheeks and shaking legs wouldn’t diminish the threat. “For as long as I see fit.”

“…I love you?”

“Have fun throwing that tissue away. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go shower by myself.”

“Non, mon loup, wait—"

III

The edge was so close he could taste it. Remus arched his back with a low sound as Sirius’ tongue did something truly fantastic—he might not give blowjobs often, but goddamn was he good at it. “Yeah,” he sighed, combing his fingers through Sirius’ hair. “Yeah, that.”

Sirius’ hum sent shocks all the way up his thighs; it took every iota of self-control not to clamp his thighs around his ears. Remus pushed the side of his face into the pillow, riding the waves of a lazy morning and a warm mouth, when suddenly it disappeared entirely.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“Did you let the dog out?”

Remus blinked at him for a long moment, then leaned back and threw an arm over his eyes. “Baby, that’s the third time in an hour you’ve asked.”

“Sorry. Is that a yes?”

“Are you kidding right now?”

“It’s a genuine—”

“Nope,” he groaned, sitting up. “Not doing this today.”

Sirius’ eyebrows pitched. “But you were almost there!”

“You don’t say!” he gasped sarcastically as he hoisted himself to his feet and shook off the last bits of thrilled dizziness. “I’ll be in the shower.”

“Wait, no, I can do it!” Sirius’ arms wrapped around his waist and soft lips pressed against his mid-back. “I’m sorry, I was overthinking. Please don’t leave me here.”

“It’s like ten feet, love.”

“And you could stay here instead and get a really nice apology blowjob.” Teeth scraped his wingbone; Remus closed his eyes at the pleasant fizz down his spine as Sirius worked a small lovebite into his skin. “Please?”

“Do you promise not to ask about the dog again? Because she’s fine, and very happy with her new chew toy.”

“Cross my heart.” Sirius turned him around and kissed his nose, tugging him back down.

IV

Sirius was a mess, and Remus was beyond smug about it. A helpless moan was music to his ears as he pulled on Sirius’ mussed hair and attached his mouth to the smooth skin that was exposed. “Please,” he whined, shifting his hips harder onto Remus’ fingers. “Please, please, mon coeur, please.”

“How much time do you have left?” Remus asked, channeling as much patience as he could muster. Sometimes, he wondered who the edging was supposed to punish.

Sirius’ whimper was the only answer he needed. “Fuck, fuck—two. Two minutes.”

“Good job.” He pushed his fingers up and Sirius shivered, knees jerking.

“Je veux—” His plea was suddenly and horribly cut off by what could only be described as a screech.

Remus pulled back in an instant, keeping one hand on Sirius’ hip. “Did I hurt you?”

“Jesus Christ, was that a rat?” he sputtered.

Ice water drenched Remus’ insides. “A what.”

Sirius scrambled to sit up on his elbows and rubbed his eyes as he stared at the corner of their bedroom, squinting slightly in the darkness. “I thought…”

“Baby.” Remus could feel the tremor in his voice. “Is there a rat in our room right now?”

They waited in silence for a few more pounding heartbeats before Sirius sighed in relief. “Nope, sorry, that was my shoe. The lace looked like a tail. Woah, are you okay? You look pale.”

“Uh-uh,” Remus managed, sitting back with a slow exhale. His heart receded from his ears to his throat. “Quick question.”

“Go for it.”

“Do you need glasses?”

“No, I have 20/20 vision.” He had the nerve to look confused. “Why?”

Remus stared at him, then shook his head. “No reason.”

V

Remus could feel Sirius’ heart hammering under his palm, growing steadily slower with each deep breath. He stroked his hair out of his eyes, feeling joy bubble up when a foggy silver gaze met his own. “Hey, you,” he said quietly as he rubbed slow circles on Sirius’ chest. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Sirius’ smile was lopsided and sappy and oh-so-perfect; he bent down for a soft kiss and felt him melt under his mouth. When Remus pulled away, Sirius let out a sigh and snuggled up against his side. “Tu es si beau,” he mumbled, still a little clumsy with his words. “Si beau. Et mignon. Je ne sais pas.”

“D’accord,” Remus said, kissing his forehead, then each of his cheeks.

Sirius suddenly lit up and he touched Remus’ knee. “Pretty! C’est le mot. Je n’aime pas l’anglais.”

“I’m pretty?”

“Mhmm. Like—mmm, starts with a b. Du beurre, but candy.”

Remus bit his kiss-swollen lip in thought. “Butterscotch?”

“Oui.” Sirius nodded decisively and closed his eyes, apparently uncaring of Remus’ vibrant blush or galloping pulse. “Butterscotch. Je t’aime.”

“I love you, too, you muppet.”

VI

As much as Remus loved being railed within an inch of his life, there was something to be said for slow, easy afternoons when the sun was high and they had absolutely nothing to do. Sirius’ hands ran from his hips to his ribs in smooth lines; Remus basked in the feeling and tilted his head when Sirius rocked upward to meet his rhythm.

“This is perfect,” he said, stretching one arm up to brace against the headboard. It was far easier to support himself—and last longer—since he had started working out like the rest of the team. White sparked at the corner of his vision. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“There?” Sirius rolled his hips again and Remus felt his dick throb. “Alright, I’ve got you.”

“We don’t have to go anywhere today.”

“Non, not even—hang on.” Sirius paused and frowned slightly. “Are your arms bigger than mine?”

“What?” Remus laughed.

“Gimme.” Sirius pulled his arm down and he nearly fell over with it, but caught himself at the last second. “Flex.”

“Why?”

“Because your arms are bigger than mine! That’s so not fair.”

Remus snorted, but obliged. Sirius scrutinized him for a solid ten seconds. “I can assure you that your arms are bigger, baby.”

“Hmm.” Sirius nodded and settled onto his back again. “Yeah, I think so. That was close.”

“Would it be such a bad thing if my arms were bigger than yours?” he asked as he began to move again, feeling Sirius’ harden in him. “I thought you liked that I’m stronger now.”

“I do like it, but you already have better back muscles. I can’t let you win that easy.”

VII

Does it count as enemies-to-lovers sex if you’re already engaged? Remus thought as he grabbed a handful of Sirius’ ass and squeezed, pulling a moan from his perfect lips. Because this feels firmly in the enemies territory.

“Are you going to stop saying it?” he asked, struck breathless as Sirius dropped to his elbows and put his face in the pillows.

“Alright, alright, fine,” he groaned, jolting as Remus pressed a hand against his lower belly.

“Where am I from?”

“Wis—Wisconsin.”

“And not…?”

“Fuck me—Minnesota.”

“Thank you.” He slowed his pace by a degree and littered the backs of Sirius’ shoulders and neck with kisses, allowing him to set the rhythm for a moment. “Your accent sounds so pretty right now.”

“So does yours.”

Remus paused in surprise. “It does?”

He sensed his mistake an instant before he saw the grin curling at Sirius’ mouth. “Oh, you betcha.”

And we’re back to enemies. “Where am I from?”

Sirius fell silent as he picked up speed and gripped his hips.

“Where, Sirius?”

“Wisconsin, fucking hell!” He flipped his hair over his shoulder for a second to glare, though the effect was ruined by the clear arousal on his face. “For someone who’s so—merde—laid-back, you’re awfully riled up about this.”

“Look, not all of us can sound like we’re dirty-talking while reciting a grocery list. I can’t let you roast me for that without repercussions.”

“Oh.” Sirius’ voice wobbled. “Oh, oh, oh—”

“Apologize for making fun of me, and I’ll touch you.”

“I’m s—oh.” Sirius’ fingers clenched in the sheets. “Oh, jeez!”

Remus’ mouth fell open. He sat back on his heels in utter shock as his addled brain tried to catch up to the rest of his body. Sirius’ shoulders weren’t shaking from how close he was to tipping over the edge, but from laughter. “Did you just…?”

Sirius flopped onto his back with a smug little smile on his face, still clearly mussed from a roll in the sack but far too aware for it to have been a slip of the tongue. “Oops.”

“You…”

“Oh, no, not the puppy eyes,” he laughed, dragging Remus down to lay on his chest. “I really do think your accent is cute.”

“You’re such an asshole!”

“It was kind of funny, though,” he snickered.

Remus socked him lightly on the arm. “We’ll see if you ever get in my pants again.”

“I will.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you love me.” He planted a kiss to his lips, nibbling at the bottom one until the frown disappeared. “Even when I make fun of you.”

“You’re mean,” Remus informed him as he kissed the muscle of his shoulder. “And cruel, and completely unappreciative of the Midwest. You don’t even love me.”

“I’m only in it for the accent,” Sirius agreed.

It was another twenty minutes until they finally got off. Remus spent the vast, vast majority of that time drowning in kisses from his deeply apologetic fiancé, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #smut #18+

[gaiuswrites]

World's Best

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader

Summary: Not every day is easy. Frankie makes it better.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 2.2k~

Warnings/tags: smut, vague-ish descriptions of depression/mental health, hurt/comfort, fluff

Notes: Do y'all ever get into a funk and then attempt to write yourself out of one? Well, this is the v self-indulgent product of said instance heh. I have tagged a random assortment of potentionally interested people but obvi no pressure? idk? :) Sending so much love and well wishes to you guys. x

Masterlist | Read it on Ao3!

A sea of knotted sheets spans between you—as tangled as your legs—too tired, too leaden to unweave. The fan rotates in the corner, blowing stale air your way every few clicks. You dangle a foot off the bed, skin prickling as the weak breeze sweeps over you and a bead of sweat licks from your knee to slope down your calf. Morning sun leaks through the window— the finch perched on the tree just outside it chirping once, twice, before flitting off.

You’ve been reading the Sunday paper for a solid twenty minutes—which, in all honesty, is an overstatement; you started and quickly abandoned the Sudoku after a measly ten, and you’ve been staring at the same sentence in the local section for the other half, blinklessly hovering over the fine print.

You’re not here today. Not all of you.

There’s this sinking feeling, hollowing you out and unmaking you. It’s as if something unseeable is oozing over you - dripping - something treacle, something thick. You’re far away from yourself—far from the cornflower blue walls and the framed photos hanging on them—the happy faces in the pictures smiling back at you— far from the plants basking in the tines of filtered light by the sill, far from the body lying beside you.

You’re not always this way. Not every day drags like an inky smear, your mind meandering sluggishly in circles, holding you hostage in a prison of your own making; but you can’t say it’s foreign to you either. It’s old, familiar—like that sweater in your closet you’ve had for centuries and rarely wear, but can’t bring yourself to get rid of. You know it well, this slog—you have unwillingly memorized it’s sodden intricacies, and today you feel it. You feel every single one of your days—each grey hour— weighing heavy on your very bones.

heavy heavy

heavier, still.

If you’re not careful, you’ll sink straight through the mattress. You’ll nestle deep into the springs and make a home in the down. You’ll sleep there until you become it. Comfortable. Catatonic.

Frankie sips his coffee. He doesn’t look up from the email he’s skimming. “What’s wrong?”

The baritone of your boyfriend’s voice sucks you back to the present—to the tick of the clock marking the seconds, the whir of the fan. The paper crinkles as you lay it to your chest—big eyes feigning ignorance as you blink up at him, chewing your lip. “Hmm?”

“Baby, I know that face.”

“What face?”

“The one you’ve got on,” he replies, “that’s your ‘I’m-upset-and-I’m-trying-to-hide-it’ face.’”

“I-” you frown, “no it’s not.” Gingerly, you pat a hand around your temple, your cheek, as if you could see your expression through touch.

“Uh huh.” Frankie rolls his digit upon the mousepad, clicking and scrolling down the webpage, and your vision glazes over again—ugly thoughts fogging up the panels of your mind—

“You gonna talk to me about it?”

You blink, swallowing, “nothing to talk about.” You flap the paper, ironing out the pleats, and scan for that pesky paragraph you never managed to finish.

“Mhm,” he replies absentmindedly, bringing the mug to his lips and drinking with an all too obvious slurp.

“Really, I’m fine,” you say weakly. You’re not that convincing—you barely convince yourself.

“Sure, sweetheart. If you say so.”

He’s too casual; he’s letting it all go too easily and God, he’s gotten good at this—at coaxing the truth out of you. He doesn’t even have to try any more. He’s so kind and open and sincere, all he has to do is crack the door ajar—tempt you with an inch of space, with only a sliver of leeway—and immediately you want to plunge through it and chase after him, like a dog and a bone.

He makes you want to share; not because of what he says, but by everything he doesn’t—the welcoming gaps he leaves you with, the gaps you’re urged to fill. This happens every time—it’s pretty damn annoying, actually. You’re so miserably predictable. After three and a half years together, sometimes you think Frankie might know you better than you know yourself.

A scary thought—wonderful, too.

“I’m just-” You run a hand over your face, pressing into the bridge of your nose and you grunt, frustrated. Exhausted. “I’m just tired.”

Frankie settles his coffee cup on the hill of his sternum, closing his laptop quietly. He swivels his head to you, hair mussing into the wall.

“Of anything in particular?” he asks, linen soft.

“No, yes—I don’t know,” you heave—an errant thing fluttering around in your chest as you fold the newspaper, letting it float to the floor with a splat. “It’s just-” you worry the inside of your cheek raw, fumbling with the blur of your emotions. You shake your head. “It’s just a bad brain day.” Your voice is small as you slump into him, letting your body go limp.

“I’m sorry I get like this. I’m okay—I’ll be okay,” you mumble, face burrowed into his arm. He smells summered, like sweat and heat and the promise of long days fading into even longer nights, and you take a heady drag, inhaling his scent.

You hear him sigh, stretching as he sets the mug and computer down on the side table. He shifts back to you, snaking an arm under your body as you coil your own around his center, hugging him close.

“You know, it’s alright if you’re not,” Frankie murmurs into your hair, planting a kiss at the crown of your head. “And you know you don’t have to hide from me when you aren’t.” His thumb finds your arm, the chewed nail bed scratching soothing circles along your skin.

Your gut somersaults, flipping and purring, and all you can do is press your lips to the cottoned shoulder of his tee shirt—the one with the holes in the collar and motor oil stain on the hem; all you can do is tighten your grasp, wringing around his cozy waist.

“And you know that nothing you say is gonna scare me away, right? I’m always going to be here for you.” Frankie gives your forearm a reassuring squeeze.

God, this man.

You nuzzle further into his chest—snuggled and swaddled in the safety of his warmth—and you mumble something incoherent, muffled against his relaxed body. His beard catches on your fly-aways as he dips to hear you better. “What was that honey?”

“I said,” you crane your neck, lifting out of his side, “you really are the ‘world’s best uncle’.”

A ripple of confusion twists over his features before you bat your eyes up to meet his, shooting a glance over to that exact phrase wrapping itself around the ceramic cup beside him.

You got stuck with it at some terrible white elephant exchange last Christmas. It’s fucking tacky and aggressively large—not even you - you, in all your caffeine dependency - can chug that much coffee fast enough in one sitting without it going cold— and neither of you have any nieces or nephews to speak of…

Naturally, it’s become your favorite mug.

Frankie barks out a laugh, his stomach flexing against your grasp. “Oh yeah? Is that all I am?” he smirks, a glint of mischievousness reflecting in his irises as he bores down at you.

You quirk an eyebrow, a coy tug blooming across your lips. “I dunno,” you drawl sweetly, “you going to prove me otherwise?”

His face is split into a grin now, wide and aching and unnecessarily endearing. His hair is a mess, wavy tufts jutting out every which way, and his eyelids are still puffy from what little slumber he was lucky enough to get in your hot, cramped apartment.

You really can’t keep putting it off—you need to buy an AC unit.

His focus dances from your eyes to your mouth, breath hitching as he watches you skip your tongue over the plush mound there. “I just might,” he growls playfully, maneuvering you onto your back with one broad swoop, pinning you to the bed.

/

He makes love to you like a man unburdened - untouched - by time. He fucks into you slowly, unhurriedly—at a pace that’s mind numbingly measured and patient. Frankie devastates you, dragging himself through your walls from head to hilt, letting you feel every ridge, every vein of him; filling you up so impossibly well—his thick cock sauntering in and out, and in and out again. Each roll of his hips makes you gasp, his blunt tip brushing against that deep, uncharted chasm within you that tempts you into oblivion. Your legs are locked around him, crossed at the ankles, and the perspiration at the pits of your knees slicks his sides.

Frankie’s palms dimple the fitted sheet as he brackets your head, burying himself into the crook of your neck. He moans—hot breath ghosting over the prickled skin there, babbling disjointed strings of guttural praise into your ear.

Fuck baby—fuck you feel good

How’d I get so lucky, how’d I-

God, you’re a— fuck

You’ve got the perfect pussy—made for me

Made for me, made for me, made for-

You turn your head and capture his mouth with your own, whimpering into him as he nips at your bottom lip and bites. You scrape your fingers through his scalp, pulling at his locks, and Frankie whines a tortured noise—giving an especially hard thrust that pries a yelp from your throat. He rears his head back, catching your gaze, a concerned line creased into his brow. “Y-You okay?”

“No- nono, yes Frankie. Again, right there,” you beg, lashes fluttering.

He darkens—the timbre of his voice made husky and raw as he drinks in the sights and sounds of you mewling for him, splayed and needy. “You like that?” Frankie drives into you again, sharp and searing as he bottoms out, the smattering of curls at the base of him soaked with your gloss. “You need it hard, baby? You want it rough?”

You whimper, clawing desperately at the nape of his neck. “I just—I just want you, all of you,” you pant as you hold his stare—the gorgeous, chestnut gleam of it—and the wordless expression that crests over his features makes you want to cry. The precious indent in his cheek, the stubble littering his jaw, his sculpted nose and clever lips, the sad rings under his eyes—the grooves he thinks you don’t notice, the grooves he tries to mask by always taking care of you, always putting you first, even when he shouldn’t.

Fuck, he’s so beautiful—he’s so beautiful you could weep.

“You have me,” he rasps breathlessly, bowing to meet you in a messy whirl of tongue and teeth before breaking away—forcing himself up off his hands and back onto his shins. He hooks an elbow under your knee, letting the other frame the outside of his hip. “I’m right here—you have me, you have me-”

Frankie’s hips are frantic now, pulsing in short, strong bursts as he grinds into you. He dips a hand to your center, pad of his thumb working erratic, sloppy flicks over the sensitive nub of your swollen clit. Your feet arch, the muscles there constricting as the tension in you mounts.

“Babe.” You’re whining now, vulnerable and shaking and fuck, you’re going to come apart—any moment now, any unbearable second, you’ll snap. “F-Frankie, baby oh god—”

You clamp a hand over your mouth, eyes screwing shut as you shatter. Like a vase crashing onto kitchen tile, you break into a million jagged fragments. Your cunt seizes, legs spasming against him as he fucks you through your orgasm, and it doesn’t take long for the tight contractions of your heat to yank him right off that same ledge. The both of you—tumbling and fracturing into terrible, perfect shards—to be intermingled and scattered among each other’s glass pieces.

Indiscernible. The same.

When you glue yourself back together again, you will find parts of him there - here, within you - filling your jigsawed cracks like golden ore.

Frankie slips out of you with a squelch and a huffed groan, collapsing to the mattress in a panting heap. His cum dribbles from your apex and you shiver at the feeling of it—at the feeling of him, warm and wet and lingering inside you. He rests his cheek on your breast while you both catch your breath—rising, falling. Waxing, waning. Two pitter-pattering hearts beating in time.

The sheets have been sloughed, lazy and forgotten, to a crumpled pile on the wood floor and the steam once rising from the mug on the nightstand has long since disappeared. It’s too muggy for you two to be this entwined—his leg draped over you, a big arm slung across your belly—but neither of you dare move. Neither of you have the energy, never mind the desire.

The clock whispers in the morning quiet.

A new bird claims the branch the finch left—she sings now, roosting there in the birch.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur sleepily, drawing patterns into the valley of his spine, mapping out his freckles and moles and scars. “Thank you,” you say. Thank you for putting up with me, thank you for understanding me, thank you for listening even when I cannot speak. “I love you so much.”

Gently, silently, Frankie tilts his head, bristled hair peppering your flesh as he mattes your skin with his lips; laving along your breasts, across your clavicle and up the plain of your neck—each kiss a response, each kiss a truth.

You don’t have to apologize

You don’t have to thank me

I love you

I love you

I’m right here

I love you

tags:

@pedros-mustache @roxypeanut @frannyzooey @djarinsbeskar @read-and-rec @keeper0fthestars @krissology @greatcircle79

#frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie x you #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fic #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal #fanfic #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfic #hurt/comfort #triple frontier

[mrs-hollandstan]

More Than Perfect || Sam Holland

Warnings: mentions of nudity, mentions of childbirth and the complications afterwards, self-doubt, language?, babiessss, Sam just being a supportive cutie

Word Count: 1,720

Author’s Note: Hopefully you guys enjoy a little bit of dad!Sam. Lemme know :) Also, huge credit to @/marsbudge on Instagram for the picture on the right. She’s amazing in expressing her beauty and is the whole reason I created this piece. Moms/ women in general are fucking superheroes. 

My Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists

There was nothing like having a baby. You were told that once you had a little one, your life would change and you would never understand the absolute love you have for this tiny human you'd made. When you and Sam got pregnant with your daughter, he was infatuated with your naked body. The tummy and the thick thighs and the ever growing breasts. Not that you yourself particularly minded being nude around your fiancè or just in general, especially when it just so happened that in the worst weeks of your pregnancy you'd be in the middle of summer. 

When your belly popped towards the bottom, blossoming up the further you got in your pregnancy, Sam lost his mind. He loved the bump and when his hands wandered, it's often where they ended up. More than anything, Sam appreciated the changes your body went through, especially the stretch marks around your thighs, hips, and belly. The boy was obsessed. That's why his Instagram blew up with pictures of your belly, pictures from the baby shower, of the nursery, of her closet, her name board above the crib, and eventually her when she arrived in the beginning of August. 

Virginia Elizabeth was what you named her and Sam, just as much as when she was in your belly, was obsessed with her. She was constantly in his arms and he admired each one of her little features on the daily, dressing her, feeding her (if you couldn't of course), changing her, rocking her to sleep. He was an all around great father. 

Especially because of the pain and exhaustion he inevitably and guiltily felt he inflicted on you. Your bump remained for a few weeks, but what it left, Sam saw, made you slightly depressed. Your feet were still swollen, your breasts were huge but your belly was starting to sag, and the bleeding was ridiculous. You slept most of the time because of the constant milk production and late nights, but Sam didn't mind taking Virginia out into the living room and kitchen, especially if his brothers were over to see their baby girl. 

However, after about a month you'd gotten somewhat used to being a mom and feeding her late at night with Sam right there at your side, giddy smile on his face the entire time at the look of his girls. He loved introducing you as his girls and going to see family and friends with your bubbly little girl in his arms. But something that seemed to remain after all of it was the nudity in your house. 

Sam found that most times he came to find you napping, you were nude beneath the blanket. Not that he minded. Easy access to the skin of your back and belly and thighs. He actually loved the sight and hoped that when he went back to culinary school and eventually went to work as a chef in one of your local restaurants, you'd still be like that, something to look forward to when he climbed into bed with you. 

With a day off from work but not from school, Sam was off in the afternoon and back before the sun started to set, walking up the stoop with a smile on his face. Even a few hours spent away from his girls was torturous. Shouldering the door open, he drops his bag just inside, kicking his shoes off just beside it, 

"Babe?" He calls. There's no reply, a frown covering Sam's face as he walks towards the nursery. He pauses in the doorway of your bedroom when he sees you, smiling to himself. You stand just before your bed, nude with your little girl, only clad in a diaper, in your arms. Your eyes are closed as you sway from side to side, the little one whimpering softly. Walking into the room, Sam stands with his hands on his hips, 

"Look at you two." He says softly. You open your eyes slowly, glancing at him. His smile is so wide you don't know how it fits on his face. He takes a deep, breathless like breath, looking you over, "You two are so perfect." He mumbles before he walks forward again, coming to stand behind you. His hands rest over your hips, lips pressed to your temple, 

"You smell like biscuits." You murmur softly, not faltering in the swaying, even as you lean back against his chest. He chuckles softly, 

"Orange cardamom biscuits. They'd go good with your tea, I'll have to make them sometime for you." He explains softly. You nod, lips pressing against Virginia's cheek. Her little face is turned up towards the ceiling, mouth hanging open as she fights sleep. You sigh, 

"I uhh, I took a shower, put her in that little bouncy thing just outside the shower and she got fussy cause it was hot in the bathroom. So I took her out of her onesie and was holding her and I just... her skin on mine felt amazing. Like yours does. And I miss her. I miss..." Sam can see the tears in your eyes now, "I miss my baby bump and being in the hospital smelling that newborn smell and all that." You tell him. He nods, 

"Its the postpartum peach. You know it'll pass and you'll have so much fun with her when she's older. Plus... the older she gets, the closer we are to havin another one. More of that newborn smell." He reasons. The look you throw him over your shoulder makes him swallow, 

"Alright... yeah, still traumatized from her birth, got it but... you don't have to be so upset. She's still little and perfect... both my girls are, and for the next... what, year, that won't change. She'll get nice and chunky and when she changes, we'll so be ready for it. She'll get giggly and fun and you'll love it. I know you will babe." He reassures. You nod, 

"I know I just can't help it. It feels like someone else is controlling my life, my emotions. I'm sorry." 

"You don't have to apologize Y/N. Your body, your mind are going through a lot of changes. You're maturing and all that. I'm not upset about it. The crying, from you or her doesn't bother me. At least there's some need for me." He half jokes. You smile, looking down at your baby girl. He sighs, 

"I'm really likin this naked thing with you though." He mutters, kissing your shoulder as he molds your hips in his hands. You hum, 

"Sometimes I'm just too lazy to get dressed, other times it's just too hot." You reason. Sam nods, 

"I like it." 

"Oh yeah?" He nods when you glance up at him, "Maybe you should join the party then. I wanna stare at her and she likes daddy's chest." He doesn't even need you to finish the before he's stripping from the grease and oil stained shirt and pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor as you sit at the edge of the bed. You scoot to your side, letting Sam lay down before you before you lay Virginia over his chest. He mumbles incoherently down at her, kissing the top of her head as he strokes down her back. He purrs which makes her whimper, the motion further lulling her to sleep. He glances over at you when you prop your head up on your hand, 

"You're a great father Sam. You've always been an awkward little bean but... when it comes to V, you do amazing." He chuckles softly, 

"Thanks Y/N/N. You two... mean the world." He admits, rubbing up and down your baby's back softly. You sigh, brushing his unruly curls aside, 

"I'm just glad that I don't have to cook. The food you make is excellent and you like doing it and baby loves it too." He laughs again, 

"And that's all that matters is making you both happy." He murmurs. There's a silence that permeates between you for a moment before you stand, finding the thin robe you wear all the time if it genuinely is too hot to wear anything else, 

"What was this... thing you were saying about orange cardamom biscuits?" You ask with a cock of your eyebrow. He smiles wide, tip of his tongue caught between his teeth, 

"I'm starting to think ALL you use me for is food." 

"I feed your little girl from my own body like eight times a day. The LEAST you could do is make bomb fucking food Holland." He hums after a moment, eyes averted from yours and to the little girl laid across his chest. He glances back up, 

"Can we just... have a little longer of this moment? Just a pretty little family before I'm whisked away to slave over a stove." He jokes. After a moment of staring at each other, you sigh, trying to fight your smile before you near the bed again, sitting at his side, 

"Fine Samuel. But only because you're pretty." You lean in to kiss his nose, kissing your baby girl's head just below his chin, "And you too little miss. I just hope you at least get something from me for all the pain and suffering I went through getting you here." Sam reaches up to tuck hair behind your ear, 

"You're a great mumma already. I have no doubt that she'll be witty and perfectly perfect. With a mum like you she'll always know she can never disappoint us with whatever decision or life choice she makes. You'll make sure of it and that's what matters. Raising a decent fucking human being." He says with such passion in his eyes you think you'll faint. You stare at him for another moment before sighing, 

"I love you more than anything on this earth Samuel Holland. Our little family is just perfect right now." You tell him. Leaning up to kiss you, he sighs, 

"Love my girls in all of their beautiful nudity. Love skin to skin." He murmurs. You lay your head against his shoulder, watching your girl sleep. Of course pregnancy and motherhood was difficult, but your fiancè made it so much better and your baby girl was everything and more for the both of you.

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#sam holland #sam holland smut #sam holland imagine #sam holland x y/n #sam holland x you #sam holland x reader #sam holland and you #sam holland and yn #sam holland and y/n #sam holland and reader #dad!sam #dad!sam holland #dad!sam holland x reader #dad!sam holland x you #dad!sam holland x yn #dad!sam holland x y/n #dad!sam holland and you #dad!sam holland and yn #dad!sam holland and y/n #dad!sam holland and reader #my writing

[anthologyoflucas]

“It’s snowing!!!” Ilia is at the window with the widest eyes and biggest smile, watching the flakes fall.

#We're the authors of our lives. (Open rp) #the lab rat. (Ilia) #v; just close your eyes // the sun is going down. // you’ll be alright // no one can hurt you now. #v; you've got a big heart // the way you see the world // it got you this far. #v; you don't have to worry // you reach for my hand // yeah i know you're gonna be okay! #v; send me an angel // the nicest angel you have. #v; the river knows to reach the sea // rain will help the flowers be // we're the same // you and me.

[songbirdstyles]

bang a gong.

summary: you’re tired of being a virgin, and when you meet harry at a bar, he’s more than happy to help you out.

warnings: literally all porn, very little plot. fingering, m+f receiving oral, dom!harry

word count: 11.1k

listen to while reading: bang a gong (get it on) by t. rex

You should say - for the record, or perhaps to maintain your dignity - that this is never the type of place you’d generally be caught in.

If you hadn’t been dragged from your faux pretense of nonchalance after you got dumped, you never would have come. It wasn’t like it was a serious relationship - barely two months - but it was your first since graduating college and perhaps you thought, maybe, you were in with this guy for the long haul, but he didn’t agree. You suppose it was a silly thought (your friends had told you not to expect too much from a former frat boy, anyway.) And it did prove to be, anyway, dissipating the second you woke up to a text saying he didn’t reckon things were working out, and could he please have his hoodie back?

Whatever. You hadn’t been too sad but your friends insisted you needed to let go of him and that is exactly why you’re here, pressed into a booth at a high end nightclub you can’t afford, your friends and the randoms they’d pulled from the dance floor packed so tight that you can feel your thighs sticking to the leather seats and to each other. You hadn’t intended on drinking anything because the prices of the drinks would absolutely kill your bank account, but that, according to your friends, is exactly why you’re here - meet rich guys who frequent here, to have drinks bought for you with false promises of a night of fun, before leaving them high and dry while you are thoroughly drunk.

A good concept, in theory, and it was enough to tug you off of the couch and dig through your closet to find a suitable dress to wear. Perhaps you’d support it more, though, if you had any experience in seducing guys at all - the entire night, you’d merely been grabbing the extra shots your friends had gotten from the guys they’d located.

“Aren’t you having fun?” your friend asks, and you turn to look at her from where she sits next to you. The music is thumping some song you can’t recognize and it rings in your ears as you raise your eyebrows at her. Speak louder, your eyebrows say, and Natalie leans closer so her lips are nearly brushing your ear. “I said, are you having fun?”

Are you? Well, you’re not sure. Even if you’d done nothing to earn the two shots you’d downed, they did taste better than the cheap bars you and your friends frequented on weekends. And it was entertaining, watching guys nearly twice your age seriously believe they’d end up between the sheets with your friends later. So you shrug, bringing your hand to fan at your neck, trying desperately to alleviate the heat burning at your skin. “It’s alright.”

It’s good enough for Natalie and she turns back to Valerie, whose legs are swung over the lap of some 50 year old who had got you all your second round of shots. His hand is pressed to her waist, fingertips digging into her skin through her dress, and it makes your stomach churn to see, so you drop your eyes to the table, where you’ve been picking at your screen protector for the past 15 minutes.

It’s times like this you wish you were a lightweight but you barely feel tipsy, and you’d like nothing more than to rip away your inhibitions and go out and dance against some guy who you’ll never see again, but you find it too awkward to do while practically sober. You bring your eyes up to scan at the dance floor - God, there’s so many girls with the same ideas you had, presumably. The demographic of this club is rich old men and broke, early-20s girls and you don’t know how much you really like to be one of them.

Though you can’t deny that the drinks are good.

“Stop thinking so much!” you glance back at Natalie with your brows furrowed. You hate the way she can practically feel what you’re thinking because you’d have been more than happy to tug at your screen protector until it peeled off of your entirely-too-vulnerable phone but she’d never allow it. Never let you sit here, in this booth, while everyone else is having a good time. Sometimes you appreciate it and sometimes you don’t and you aren’t quite sure of how you’re feeling about it now. “You know what I think?”

You can’t fucking hear her and you lean your head in more, awating her response as your narrowed eyes look around the crowd on the dance floor again. No one catches your eye but nobody catches your eye here, either, and you reckon you’d have better luck roaming the streets of LA to find someone worth your time.

“I think you should go get laid,” Natalie tells you, and you exhale, a humorless smile turning your lips up. “I’m serious! There has to be some hot, rich guy here. What, did that guy fuck you so good you never want anyone else again?”

The thought of being pinned under any guy that your eyes are glazing over could make you gag, but you reckon she may be right. Unbeknownst to your friends, you’d never fucked anyone and you hadn’t necessarily felt the need - you’d done just about everything else under the sun, and not a single guy you’d given a blowie to, or who’d fingered you, had ever been able to find the spot that made you squirm more than anything. So you’d never quite understood why having someone’s dick inside of you was such a big deal but you can’t deny, now, that getting it out of the way does sound quite nice, solely to boost your self esteem after getting dumped by a graduated frat boy named Logan.

There wasn’t much of a bigger blow to your ego than that.

You tug your gloss-coated bottom lip in between your teeth, dropping your eyes back down to Natalie’s, and she widens her eyes at you in a way that further encourages you to get the whole virginity thing out of the way. It’s not like it matters, anyway. “Maybe,” you tell her, entirely too quiet compared to the music pulsing through the club, and she smiles, leaning back in the booth. You’re not sure if she heard you because you can’t hear whatever she says next, but it doesn’t matter - you’re already pushing your way out of the booth, calling excuse me to where Alexa is leaning close to the man she’d found (and he’s, by far, the most attractive of any of the three guys your friends had located, but Alexa has always been the best at finding the hottest guys, and you’re nearly positive she actually will end up fucking him tonight.) She leans forward so you can climb behind her, awkwardly in your heels, and you tug at one of her curls as you clamber out of the booth.

Working your way through a crowd of people to the bar is a skill you’ve all but mastered and at a club like this, it’s a lot easier than you’d expected. There’s less people dancing than you’d thought though you shouldn’t be shocked - it certainly isn’t like the usual clubs you go to. And so, you push your way through the people dancing to the bar, and there’s a few people spread out on the barstools. You scan the back of them - you can’t see any of their faces, naturally, so you merely judge from their hair, and you take a few steps forward and settle yourself onto a stool besides a man with messy brown curls, a pint of beer in front of him.

When you peek at his side profile he certainly looks younger than you’d expected - hardly older than you, if at all. And that’s a score for you, you figure. You’d much prefer to lose your virginity to someone who doesn’t seem like they could be your dad. But he is wearing sunglasses and that’s a bit weird - certainly not a dealbreaker but odd enough to make you wonder.

You aren’t sure what to say - should’ve listened closer when Natalie, Valerie or Alexa were seducing their men for drinks - and for a moment you sit in silence. 

It’s only when you turn your head to take another look at him, at the sunglasses sitting at the very top of his nose, that the silence between you two is broken, and his head tilts ever so slightly towards you. “What’re you looking at?”

God, his voice. You’d always had a thing for British accents and his is better than most, deep and raspy and slow, and you shift on your stool. And it sounds just a bit familiar but you can’t exactly pinpoint where - well, it doesn’t matter. If things go further between you two, tonight, you surmise he’d forever be the sexiest voice you’d slept with.

But you can’t get your hopes up. After all, the sunglasses in a dimly lit, fancy club is enough to make you just a bit suspicious of what type of person he is, and you refuse to hand over your V-card to a weirdo.

“Just wondering what your glasses are for.” Figure it’s best to figure that out before you let this get any further. You don’t want to waste your time. And you pointedly glance up at the ceiling, eyes darting around the walls of the club. “S’not like there’s much light here to protect your eyes from, is there?”

He chuckles, then, and you raise your eyebrows. “Guess I just don’t want people to see me,” he tells you, and when he turns to face you fully your eyes scan over his face and - God, he really does look familiar. And he sounds familiar. Have you met him before? No, you don’t think you could ever forget someone like him.

But - well, maybe. You weren’t necessarily known for having the keenest of memories.

You smile at him, brows creasing together. He certainly does seem to be a mystery and you’d love to uncover it in more ways than one. So you lean forward, resting your arm on the bartop. “Seems like the wrong kind of place, if you don’t want people to see you.”

“I reckon it’s working - you’re the first person to talk to me all night.” A hand - a large hand, you note - goes up to his hair, fingers brushing through his curls, and your eyes follow its path in a way that certainly isn’t anywhere close to subtle. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

Is he flirting with you? You’re not quite sure but God, you hope so, because so far he keeps getting better and better to you. So you turn to completely face him and you can see the small smirk on his lips, as if he knows what he’s doing to you without even having to try. “Are you going to tell me your name?”

You can see his eyebrows raise as he picks up his beer and takes a sip. Your eyes can’t help but follow every movement he makes and you don’t care if you look desperate - truthfully, you are. You hadn’t even seen his face in its entirety but you suspect your friends would be impressed if they could see the sort of guy you’d located. Even if you leave this club and never see him again, you’re not sure you could ever forget the way he’s making your stomach flip just with a small quirk of his lips.

When he’s set his drink down again and brought his wrist up to wipe at the beer still lingering on his lips - is that a Gucci watch? - he tilts his head at you, curls flopping, and then says, “Tell me yours first,” so you do. And he nods slowly before telling you, “My name is Harry.”

Harry. 

Your mind is whirring because suddenly the pieces are coming together - and you hadn’t been in your One Direction phase for a few years but you certainly know who Harry is. And the fact that you’re just sitting here, right now, talking to him in a club filled with too many other girls to count, seems like an accomplishment in itself. But you don’t want him to know you know, though surely he must assume you do, so you nod in the same fashion he did, as if you’re content with what he’d told you.

“Harry,” you repeat, as if testing the name out on your tongue. He spins his stool slightly so he’s facing you and your knees knock into his slightly. And then you raise your eyebrows at him, reaching down to tug your dress down slightly where it’s been riding up on your thighs, and you don’t miss the way his eyes follow your movements. “Are you going to let me see your eyes, Harry?”

Harry laughs slightly and then stands, and you look up at him, confusion blazing in your eyes. Is he leaving? God, you hope not. You don’t want your experience with him to be over before it's begun, no matter what it ends up being. But then he motions, with one finger, for you to follow him and you’re standing so fast your head is spinning, and you trail after him as he leads you through the crowd of people, and you crane your neck to try and see where your friends are but you can’t see them anywhere.

It’s fine by you, you decide, as Harry stops in front of a small, darkened booth towards the back of the club. You’re surprised but positively overjoyed that it’s empty - seems like the perfect type of table for anyone looking to get lucky. And, Christ, you are.

You slide into the booth and Harry slides in right next to you, leaving hardly a few inches between you two as he rests his arm against the back of the booth oso he can face you, and, beneath the table, your ankle links with his. You give him a moment to see if he’ll pull his foot loose from yours, but he never does, and it makes your heart race.

“Gonna take off your glasses for me, Harry?” you tilt your head forward - where you’d moved to is closer to the source of the music and it’s harder to hear, all of a sudden, but you can’t bring yourself to pretend that’s why your face gets so close to his. His breath smells like beer and mints, and you can see the smirk spreading further across his face. “I’ve been dying to see your eyes. Bet they’re pretty.” And you’re not quite sure where this confidence is coming from, because you’ve hardly tried to seduce anyone like this, but you’ll lay it on thick for him.

He’s different.

He chuckles and you can feel his breath, hot against your face. It sends a shiver down your spine and you hope the instinct was imperceptible. “Take them off for me, then,” and you do, reaching up to pull the glasses off his nose, and you can tell - just by the feeling of them in your hands - that they’re more expensive than anything you’d ever held in your life. 

As if everything before this wasn’t proof enough that you truly were talking to Harry Styles, sliding the glasses down his nose and meeting his eyes really validates it. You can’t help the way your lips part as you reach down to rest his sunglasses on the sticky table and you hope you don’t look as amazed as you’re feeling.

God, you have to be dreaming. The guy you cherry pick from the randoms sitting at a bar is - him. And you’re sitting with him, his fingers dancing across your shoulder blade where his arm is thrown lazily over the back of the booth, your ankles intertwined.

16-year-old you never could’ve believed it, but 22-year old you is having the time of her life.

“You look a bit shocked,” Harry murmurs, barely heard over the pounding music, but you hear it as clearly as if he’d yelled it in your ear.

You shift your mouth closer to his ear, so close that you know your lips graze his skin when you tell him, “Prettier than I’d expected, s’all.” It’s then - with a start - that you feel his other hand drop to your knee, pressing circles into your soft skin. You could nearly moan at the feeling and you know, suddenly, that this’ll definitely go where you want it to, assuming you don’t fuck it up.

And you won’t. Won’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“Ah.” When he tilts his head ever so slightly your lips are hardly a centimeter apart and with one shift forward you could close the gap, press your mouth to his, slip your tongue into his mouth. Force this into exactly the direction you need it to go, feel his hands drop to your hips, pulling you into his lap, cock hard against your core where your dress is riding up your hips.

As soon as you start to lean in, to make every fantasy you’ve had a reality, you feel two fingers, harsh against your shoulder, and they don’t belong to Harry.

You glance up, eyes narrowing at whoever had disrupted you, and standing in front of your booth is Alexa, wearing a small smile reeking of both excitement and guilt. And you can’t bring yourself to be mad at her for interrupting you, even though you want to, as she drops your phone onto the table.

“Sorry for interrupting,” she calls above the music, and you roll your eyes, leaning over Harry’s shoulder to move your head closer to his. In your ear you can hear him groan softly as your chest presses against his, and you can feel his arm that had been over the top of the booth drop to wrap around your waist - exactly where you’d wanted to feel it. “We’re gonna head out. Are you going to come?” The question is innocent but you can tell she already knows the answer as her eyes drop down to Harry’s arm, secure around your waist, fingers rubbing patterns into your hip through your tight, black dress.

“No,” you tell her, and Harry squeezes your hips in approval. “No, I’m gonna stay.”

“Are you sure?”

It’s then that Harry turns his head to look at her, effectively pressing your bodies closer than you’d thought they could go, and you can see the exact moment Alexa recognizes him - the way her eyes widen and her lips part into a smile. You’re not sure if she’s simply shocked that she’s seeing Harry in person or if she’s surprised you’re wrapped around him, but either way, she looks absolutely shell-shocked. “Promise I’ll take good care of her,” Harry tells your friend, and the double entendre makes you shift slightly, thighs rubbing against each other. 

He better take good care of you.

You bring your hand up to wave to Alexa and you can’t hear the response she squeaks out before she’s gone, and you don’t look to see her go back to your friends. You merely lean back, just a bit, pressing your hands to Harry’s shoulder to look at him.

“Gonna take good care of me, then?” you raise your eyebrows and you can see Harry’s pupils dilating as he stares at you, and you shift closer to him, practically in his lip. The music changes, then, and you hadn’t been paying attention to it before but now, Bang a Gong seems quite fitting for the moment. “Hope you follow through on that.”

It’s then that he leans forward, eliminating the distance between your faces as his lips press to yours. And you hardly have a moment to even comprehend it as his hand rises to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, and you moan into his mouth just about immediately. Harry’s tongue slips into your mouth and one of your hands drags up to the back of his neck, nails tracing along his sweaty skin. You’re not sure you’ve ever truly appreciated being kissed until right now, feeling his lips slotted against yours, the way his hand is pushing further up your thigh until his fingertips are creeping up the cheap material of your black dress.

You only pull away when you need to catch your breath, and Harry’s arm keeps you so close to him that the thought of regaining your composure seems too far away to consider. You’re not sure you’ll ever recover from that and you know there’s so fucking much more to come and you truly have scored, even if you only end up with kiss swollen lips to show for it.

But you reckon he has a thing for hickeys. It’s just a vibe you get from some guys, and as soon as the thought settles into your brain Harry proves it - mouth moving down to just below your jaw, and you drop your head back with a whine as you feel him beginning to suck a dark mark into your skin. His hand on your hip clutches your dress between his fingers, pulling the material tighter to your body than you’d even thought it could go, and it’s all the leverage he needs to pull you as close to him as you can go without being on top of him.

Which - you aren’t opposed to, but you’d always pictured your first time being below an incredibly handsome man.

(Though, you hadn’t ever pictured your first time being with your teenage crush, so you shouldn’t start relying on your fantasies now, you guess.)

When you shift your leg so it’s hooked across his, he pauses, pulling back to glance at the mark he’d left on your skin. In the dim light in the back of the club you’re not sure how well he’d be able to see it, but he grins as he examines it. Your fingers tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck and you can feel him shiver beneath you and it makes your clit throb. “I think,” he tells you, leaning in so his mouth is right at the bottom of your ear, and you fight back a whimper at how deep his voice had gotten - dropped nearly an octave since the last time he spoke. “I think we should take this somewhere else.”

Harry squeezes your bare thigh, then, fingers just a few inches from the hem of your panties. You’d let him pin you to the booth, fuck you hard where anyone could walk by and see but - of course - that isn’t feasible. And as much as you truly do not care about losing your virginity, you don’t think you want it to be here, so you nod your approval. In an instant he’s out of the booth, fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugging you out after him. You grab his sunglasses and your phone, resting on the sticky table. You stumble as soon as you stand up and you’re not sure why - you think you’re just a bit overwhelmed with everything that had happened in the past 20 minutes, and the fact that Harry fucking Styles is almost certainly taking you to bed.

“Hang on,” you tell him, and when he turns to look back at you with an eyebrow raised, you reach forward to perch his glasses on top of his nose, preserving the anonymity you knew he wanted. He smiles slightly as he reaches up to push them further up his nose, and then he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him as you begin to walk towards the door.

Your friends are gone, you note, as you pass the booth you’d occupied earlier. Your phone, firm in your hand, has been buzzing incessantly since Alexa dropped it off but you haven’t bothered to check what the notifications are - your friends, surely wondering what you were doing, where you were going, when you would be home. And you didn’t know, truly, but you hoped it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

Harry pulls you through the doors of the club into the moist, nighttime air, and immediately you’re shivering - it’s chilly, just a bit. Not too bad, but you can tell it’s just rained by the way your foot sinks into a puddle of water, soaking through your cheap black heels.

You pay it no mind - just keep walking in pace with him, wondering, briefly, if there’ll be a time when you wake up from this. Perhaps right as he slides inside of you, filling you up so good, you’ll squeeze your eyes shut and moan and when you open them you’ll be in your bed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing you didn’t have such a rampant imagination.

There’s no way this can truly be real but at the same time it is - the way his fingers tap against your hip feels so real. The way he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple as he turns you both down the street, it feels like it can’t possibly be a dream.

“What are you thinking about?” his voice sends vibrations rolling through your body and now that you’re free of music blaring through your head, muffling every word the pair of you spoke, you can appreciate it more - the rasp in his tone, how deep and slow he speaks. You could nearly moan at that but you hold back, biting on your tongue to prevent any loose noises from slipping out.

You lean up so your mouth is close to his ear like you had in the club, even though there’s no music surrounding you to make it necessary - you like the way he tightens his grip on your hip when you breathe against his ear. “Just wondering where you’re taking me.”

That wasn’t, in fact, what you were thinking about, but you didn’t think you could muster up the courage right now to tell him how bad you want him inside of you.

Harry points down the street and you squint to what he’s motioning to - “Have a driver waiting for me. Gonna take us to my hotel room, not too far from here.”

“And then what?”

He raises his eyebrow as he glances down at you, and you can see the amusement twinkling in his eyes even on such a dimly lit street. “And then -” he turns into a parking lot, just behind the club you’d been in, and you can hear the distant thumping music from inside - “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

Christ. You nearly whimper just at the implication and your mind speeds off, leaving your body behind, imagining every single thing he could do to you - or you could do to him - or anything. You can picture a thousand different scenarios and every single one ends with you in his hotel bed, your V-card firmly in his pocket.

It’s then that Harry stops in front of a sleek, black car - raps two knuckles on the tinted window of the driver’s seat and it rolls down almost immediately, as though it had been waiting for his signal. You can’t hear what he murmurs to the driver as he ducks his head inside the window and you don’t strain your mind to try and listen - within a few seconds he’s stepping back, opening the door to the backseat and ushering you inside.

You’d never been in a nicer car before but you shouldn’t be shocked - the outfit he’s wearing tonight could pay your rent for the next four months. There’s a partition between the backseat and the front and you’re beyond thankful as Harry slides in beside you, slamming the door shut, and he doesn’t give you a moment to process anything before his lips are on yours.

You wouldn’t dream of complaining as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you, and he’s groaning into your mouth as his hand drifts downwards to cup your ass through your dress but it’s not enough for him and you can tell. Fingers push up the bottom of the cheap material so he can slip his hand beneath it, hand cold against the back of your thigh and he slides his hand further up until he’s groping your arse once more.

“Fuck,” you breathe, and you can feel Harry smirking against your lips - a smug bastard, he is, but you find you don’t truly care. You pull your mouth from his, feeling his teeth tugging at your bottom lip, but you’re hardly disconnected a moment before you throw your leg over his thighs, straddling him, and he moans like music to your ears. 

He uses his grip on your ass to force your hips to rock against the bulge, prominent even through his pants. His other hand tugs your dress up to your hips, letting the material bunch around your waist, and immediately his hand comes down hard on your ass - you squeal, dropping your forehead against his, as he rubs over the spot he’d just smacked.

“Y’like that?” You nod, pressing your lips to the side of Harry’s neck as he lands another slap down on your bum. Your hips press harder into his, feeling the pressure on your clit as you roll against him. “Yeah, know you do. Dirty girl.”

And - you’re not sure why - but you drop your lips to his ear, nibbling on his earlobe and feeling the way his cock twitches beneath you. “Can I tell you something?”

He nods, and you bring your hand up to his hair, running your fingers through his sweaty curls. Harry tilts his head to the side and your lips briefly brush, feather light, as you slow the pace your hips are rocking, savoring every brush of your panty clad clit against the material of his pants. “Anything,” he mutters, head dropping against the headrest, and you reach down to press your palm to his cock. God, he’s so hard and he feels so big too, too big to even fit in you, but you know damn well you’ll try your very best to make it work.

Even if you’ve never done it before, and before you can wonder if it’s the best time or thing to tell him, you lean in. “I’ve never had sex before.”

Harry certainly seems shocked and the way his lips part goes straight to your ego - do you seem so good at all of this that he’d suspected you’d done it time and time again? Maybe he’s confused as to why you told him and truthfully, you are, too. Just felt like the kind of thing he’d like to know. Your ex boyfriend had certainly wanted to know, and two days after you’d told him he’d ended things.

Maybe some guys don’t want to take girls’ virginities, but judging by the way Harry’s fingers dig further into your ass, you suspect he does.

“Never?” There’s the surprise thick in his voice and you nod, grasp on his cock tightening ever so slightly, and he groans beneath you. “God. Never would’ve thought. Bloody good at this.”

Yep, there’s your ego inflating, and you shrug. “Done just about everything else. Just haven’t gotten to the good part.” Another smack lands against your ass and you moan, pushing back against his palm as he smooths his hand over your skin.

He leans back, then, shifting his hips, and you can see his pupils dilating more and more as he glances down at the way your cunt presses to his cock - “Why don’t you show me what you can do, then?”

You’re much more than willing, and you lean in to give Harry one final kiss before pushing yourself off of him and sitting, on your knees, on the seat beside him. He’s watching you so intently you could almost feel judged but you love it - love the way he watches you push your hair behind you, how he reaches down to slowly undo the zipper of his fancy dress pants, but you wanna do it yourself. You push his hand away, wrapping your hand around his wrist, and surely he’s strong enough to resist the dominant act you’re playing if he wanted to but you can tell he doesn’t. You finish unzipping his pants and he lifts his hips slightly so you can shimmy them down his thighs, just enough so you’re face to face with his cock, thick and bulging through his briefs.

You don’t give yourself a moment to examine just how big he is - bigger than you’d anticipated when you were on top of him and when you’d felt him up. You’d sucked off plenty of guys and none of them came close to his size but you’ve mastered the faux confident facade as you shift backwards, leaning down with your ass high in the air to press a soft kiss against Harry’s cock through his boxers.

He groans, those glasses slipping down his nose, and his wandering fingers end up dancing down your back - you’re not sure where he’s going but you shift forward to give him easier access to your ass, if that’s what he wants, and your fingers hook in the waistband of his boxers to pull them over his cock.

Jesus, yeah, he is big. You wrap your hand around him, pumping experimentally a few times, listening to the way Harry moans brokenly. You wonder, briefly, when he’s last done this - he looks as though it’s been a bit too long but, well, you suppose you can’t judge how sensitive he is when just the feeling of his hand splayed across your lower back is wetting your panties faster than anything has before.

Lips press a wet kiss against the tip of his cock, just briefly, before you wrap your lips around his length and push our head down - a gurgled cry escapes his throat and you nearly smirk around him, taking him as far down your throat as you can until your nose is just about brushing his pelvis. Your hands press to his thighs and you can feel him growing stiffer in the confines of your mouth by the second. Fingers tangle in your hair, forcing your head down, and with any other guy you’d roll your eyes but there’s something different about him, something that makes you like the dominance. Any semblance of it that you’d had seconds before is gone and there’s a smack against your ass, causing you to cry out against his cock.

Normally you pull off of guys after 15 seconds (or so) but Harry doesn’t let you, holds you down, and you hollow your cheeks around him. Swallow, and his hips jerk up into your mouth, forcing a gag from you, and then he loosens his grip on your hair, allowing you to pull your mouth from him.

Harry’s breathing is heavy and his hand is groping your ass so tight it nearly hurts but the pleasure overpowers it and you push back against his hand. His fingers tug at your thong, slipping beneath it as you lap at the tip of his cock, and no sooner have his fingers circled your puckered hole - is he gonna do it? - that he slides them further down, running his digits through your soaked folds. 

“So - so fucking wet -” his voice cracks as you take him down your throat again but his hand doesn’t force your head down like last time - instead he brings his other hand to your bum and smacks you hard, harder than every other time, and you moan and he moans, and then two of his fingers slip into your cunt and you moan again.

God, it really is happening, because if it wasn’t, you’re sure you’d have woken yourself up in excitement by now. He really is two fingers deep in your pussy while his cock is all the way down your throat, and he really is crying out as you whine against his cock. His digits curl, brushing against that sweet spot in your velvety walls that has you clenching around him, and you think he’s the first guy you’ve ever done anything with whose found your G-spot without 10 minutes of needed assistance.

Your tongue swirls around his cock as you take your mouth from him, throwing your head back with a cry, and your first still pumps him up and down - his fingers are thrusting in and out of you so fast that the sound of your arousal is nearly the same volume as your moans lingered with his. You’re going to cum so fucking hard, first time you’ve cum from anything other than your fingers or your toys, and you roll your hips against his fingers, grasp on his cock tightening.

“Gonna cum -” your eyes roll back into your head as your thumb flicks over the head of Harry’s length, feeling the way his body jerks at the sensation. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop -”

“Gonna cum for me?” his voice is a hiss through gritted teeth as his fingers speed up even more, pumping inside of you so fast that your head is fucking spinning. “Do it, then. My dirty - fucking - girl, cum for me.”

It’s all you needed and you can’t even bring yourself to feel embarrassed at how fast you’re cumming because as soon as the pit in your stomach starts to unravel you can feel his cock twitching in your fist. You can’t think of a single thing to say, vocabulary wiped clean, merely throwing your head back with a noise akin to a scream as you cum on his fingers, and as his hips jerk up, you can feel his release coating your hand.

Harry’s fingers still pump slowly inside of you, prolonging your orgasm until it fades away and in turn you try to do the same to him, hand moving up and down his cock until your breathing steadies from labored pants into something more normal. So you pull your hand off of him, pushing yourself to sit on your knees, cum covering your fingers. And, in an instant, Harry’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, and you let him guide your hand up to your mouth.

You can tell he’s merely testing you to see if you’ll do it - but, truthfully, you’d wanted him to cum in your mouth, anyway, if only to prove something to him, or to yourself. So you stick your tongue out, lap a thick stripe through his cum on your hand, dripping down your wrist, and Harry’s lust ridden eyes watch you, lips parted and breathing picking up again.

Your eyes never leave his as you lick up the last of his release on your hands, swallowing every last bit of it, and when you open your mouth to stick your tongue out - proving to him that you took every single goddamn drop - his hand flies to the back of your neck, pulling your head in, and your lips connect with a clash of teeth.

“Like a fucking angel,” Harry groans, pressing his fist to the car seat next to you, and the feeling of him hovering ever so slightly above you makes the buzzing in your head that much more intense. His other hand works at tucking himself back into his pants, zipping them up, and you figure it’s good to pull your dress down to cover your ass, too. “My fuckin’ perfect girl. Jesus Christ.”

You can feel the car slowing to a stop and you’re entirely too ready to go up to Harry’s bedroom and have your goddamn brains fucked out. You already feel like you’re on cloud 9 with one orgasm down, one so intense and brutal, one that you reckon nothing but him could muster up, and that’s just his fingers - you need to know what his cock’ll do to you. 

His hand falls back down to your waist where it seems to love to reside and he squeezes your hip, leaning in to nibble at your bottom lip again. You grin lazily, then reach up and push his sunglasses back up his nose where they’d slid down the bridge ever so slightly. “Want you t’fuck me,” you breathe, voice raspy in all of its post-orgasm glory. “Never gotten fucked by anyone before but I need you - swear, I’ve never cum so hard in my life.”

Harry chuckles and turns to glance out the window - then he grabs the door handle and pushes it open. When you’ve both clambered out of the car his arm is around you in a heartbeat, and you need the support, legs feeling shaky, and you take just a moment to glance up at the hotel you’re walking into - nicer than anything you’d ever been in in your life but you feel a bit more used to it by now.

“Tell me,” Harry mutters, leaning his lips close to your ear, as the automatic doors slide open for the pair of you to walk into the hotel lobby. “How many guys have made you cum before, hmm?”

“None,” is your response, turning your head to the side so you can witness the shock that overtakes Harry’s face - you can’t see his eyes but you’re sure they’re wide. “Told myself I didn’t want to fuck a guy who didn’t know where the clit is, and - well, none of them did.”

He chuckles as you two make your way through the lobby towards the elevators - it feels wrong for you to even be here, walking by people who see more money every day than you have in your life, in your dress you’d gotten at the thrift store and your heel still slightly wet. But being with Harry, having his arm around you, makes you feel decidedly less awkward, because you’re sure millions of girls would positively die to do what you’re about to do.

But you get to do it, and if that isn’t the best feeling in the world.

He stops in front of the elevator and presses the button to go up, and the doors open almost immediately - such a gentleman, he is, letting you step in first, and when you’re both in you watch the button for the very top floor light up as he pushes it. 

“You’re in for the night of your life,” Harry tells you as the elevator doors slide shut, and you’re entirely expecting him to pin you to the wall but he doesn’t - incredible composure, really, staring straight ahead like he can’t feel the desperation practically dripping from your body. You stare at him, for a moment, at his side profile, jaw set. Like he isn’t as needy as you are, but, as your eyes trail down his body to the bulge already hardening again in his pants, you know that he is.

It seems like an eternity later that the elevator doors slide open again, and you want to race down the hall to his room but you let him lead the way, even if his pace is pathetically slow as he strolls down the hallway. There are only two rooms up this high, on either ends of the hall, and his is to the left of the elevators and it seems so much further than the one to the right.

But you make it there, and Harry’s reaching in his pockets to find his key card - and then he’s swiping it - and then he’s pushing open the door - and as soon as it shuts again, you’re pressed firm against the wall. Your hands fly to the back of his head as his drop to your back, trailing downwards to cup at your ass again (he seems to have a thing for it, but you would never think of complaining.) Your lips press to his as your head falls back against the door, and his hips jerk forward to roll against yours.

You still feel entirely too sensitive and you moan out, pushing your hips forward to meet his as you pull his face closer to yours, using your arms around his neck as leverage to pull him in, but you didn’t need it - you can tell he’s just as desperate as you are, and soon he pulls you off of the door, backing you up to God knows where. You let him lead you until your legs hit something and you fall backwards onto a plush couch, pushing yourself onto your elbows to watch Harry as he drops to his knees before you.

Oh, shit.

Your cheeks heat up as he rests his hands on your knees, spreading your thighs apart. Harry’s hand rises up to his sunglasses, perched, still, on his nose, and he pulls them off, resting them on the coffee table behind him. His eyes meet yours and perhaps he can see the apprehension in your eyes because he leans up, pressing a kiss to your lips. You savor the moment, the sweetness of his tongue entering your mouth, before he lowers himself back down onto his knees. Hands go to the bottom of your dress, rolling it over your hips until it can settle around your waist, exposing your entire bottom half to him, and it feels so much more intimate now that you’re not confined to the backseat of a car.

Harry leans in without giving you a breath to collect yourself, pressing a kiss to your clit through your arousal-soaked lace panties - your hand drops to the couch, squeezing the edge of the cushion between your fingers, and you can already feel your slight embarrassment slipping away as Harry pushes your thigh, forcing it further open.

“Tell me,” he says, deep and hot with how close he is to your cunt, and your hips roll of their own accord at the feeling. “How many guys have done this to you?”

You pause to think, chest rising and falling as he leans in again, licking up your panties, and the sensation makes it a bit difficult to gather yourself enough to respond - eventually, though, you swallow and say, “Not too many. One or two.”

He leans back, pressing a kiss to your thigh. “And they never made you cum.”

“N - no.”

“Well, I will,” is his response, and, as cocky as it may seem, you know he’s right - could probably make you cum through your panties, but his fingers hook in the top of them as soon as the thought pops in your mind. You lift your hips up so he can drag them down your legs, and when they’ve puddled by your feet he helps you take them off. You watch as he crumbles the lacey material in his hands and then stuffs it into the pockets of his fancy pants - for later, he murmurs against your thigh. And then he goes in - hands on your thighs forcing them apart so hard it nearly burns but you find you like the stretch, and his lips wrap around your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks on the small nub.

Your head drops back against the couch and you bury your hand in his hair, a loud moan escaping your throat. He wasn’t teasing you and you were beyond grateful - tongue laps up every drop of wetness that gushes in your cunt, kitten licks against your clit, and you can tell he has more experience than you could have imagined. Harry has it mastered, exactly where to place his hands (one on your thigh, the other creeping its way beneath the material of your dress towards your tits) and how to flick his tongue just right to have your hips bucking up against his mouth. And if you thought you’d cum hard in the car you know you’re in for a fucking treat because there’s already pressure building in your stomach and it won’t be long until it fucking erupts.

When you squeeze your eyes shut he stops - pulls away, his mouth and his hands, like he’d never been there in the first place. You open your eyes, chest heaving as you stare down at him. His pupils are lust blown and wide as he stares at you, eyebrows raised, as if you’re meant to know something he never told you - “Eyes open,” he tuts, tone condescending and smug, and you hate how much you love it. “Keep them open. Gonna watch me make you fall apart, alright?” You nod slowly. “Tell me.”

Your voice is caught in your throat as Harry’s lips form a small o, breathing a puff of air onto your beyond sensitive clit, and your fingers in his curls tighten to what has to hurt - but he moans, ever so slightly, as you finally breathe, “Yes. Okay.”

“S’what I thought,” is his response, and then he leans back in, licking up your soaked folds as though no time had passed. Both of his palms press against your thighs, pinching your soft skin, fingers dangerously close to the area he’s working so well. God, his fingers, you swear you’ve never felt anything better than them - you want them again, so bad, hitting your sweet spot so good.

You can’t begin to get the words out to tell him that, though, so you merely reach down, shaky fingers wrapping around his wrist and pushing it closer to your cunt - he pauses, tongue mid-swirl around your clit, and looks up at you with a glint of pure cockiness in his eyes. 

“What do you want?” he doesn’t remove his mouth from around your clit as he speaks and the vibrations roll through your body, sending a cry through your throat, and you push his hand further towards your cunt. You know it won’t be enough - haven’t known Harry for quite long at all, but you reckon you know that much about him. “Use your words,” and Harry sounds so fucking commanding that it could make you cum right then and there.

“F - fingers,” you just about sob out, rolling your hips up into his mouth so your clit brushes against his tongue. “Please, Harry - need your fingers, please -”

“Fingers, hmm?” His digits dance across your thighs, straying further away from where you need him, and your eyes just about roll back into your head as he pulls his mouth from your clit and blows on it again. “Where do you want my fingers?”

But you’re too far gone to speak - as he leans in to brush his tongue against your sensitive clit once more, you can feel the pit in your tummy starting to come undone. You drop your head back as Harry licks a thick stripe up to your sensitive nub, and he stops again, pressing his cheek against your inner thigh. “Does my dirty girl want my fingers in her pussy, hmm? S’that where you want my fingers?”

You moan out in affirmation.

Harry pulls his head from your thigh and you push yourself so you’re sitting up more, getting a clear view of everything he’s doing as he spits on your pussy, the saliva dripping down onto your clit, and you fucking cry out. His fingers come up to collect the spittle, rubbing it along your clit before dragging it down your folds so he can push them into your pussy - curling up immediately, knowing exactly the spot that makes you squirm. His other hand comes up and lands a firm smack against your clit, one that has your eyes rolling back into your head.

It only takes a few quick pumps of his curled fingers, in and out of your fluttering cunt, that has you cumming so hard you swear you see stars. Every single sob that breaks free from your throat is so loud that you swear the neighbors in the room at the other end of the hall must be able to hear you - should send them a flower arrangement tomorrow morning, because it’s just his mouth and fingers that has you screaming bloody murder.

“Oh my god -” your hips jerk against his mouth, your hands in his hair dropping back down to the cushions. “Fuck.”

Coming down from your second high of the evening is entirely different from your first - you can’t imagine how you’ll possibly be able to pull anymore from you but, as Harry stands up, your slick covering his mouth and chin, you know you have to.

The whole point is to fuck him. To finally know what everyone’s talking about - to see what the fuss is all about. 

Harry leans down, tongue forcing its way down your throat the second your lips part for him, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. Your arousal mixed with the beer he’d had earlier, all traces of the mint washed away, and it tastes so divine. Even more divine as his hands drop to the zipper of his pants, sliding it down, and you slide your fingers in the waistband, helping him tug them down his thighs. He kicks them off as soon as they’re near his feet and then he pulls away, palm pressing against the bulge in his briefs. 

“How do you want it?” he asks, words dripping with lust and desperation and you know the exact way he’s feeling and more. You watch him intently as he grips the bottom of his sweater and tugs it over his head - it drops to the rug atop the ground and you let your eyes soak in the sight of him, almost fully nude, briefly ignoring the question.

You hadn’t necessarily expected him to ask. He seems more dominant than that, needing to take control, so you swallow, chest heaving as you try to think. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

He seems to have been expecting that answer, because his hands fall to your waist, pushing you down so you’re lying on the couch. It’s spacious, just enough room for you to adjust yourself comfortably, and Harry lowers himself down on top of you the second you’ve shifted enough.

“How’s this?”

And his caring demeanor is shocking but fitting, because as much as you merely want to get your virginity out of the way, it does feel like a sort of important moment. You want it to be comfortable, and lying on the plushiest couch you’ve ever been on with Harry hovering above you, his arm inches above your head, is about as comfortable as you’re going to get.

You loop your arms around his neck and you can feel his clothed cock, pressed to your cunt. He’s so fucking hard and you’re amazed at the amount of composure he has. “Perfect,” you mumble, leaning up to attach your lips once more (you swear, you can’t get enough of him.)

Harry tugs down his boxers, just enough to free his cock from the flannel confines, and you can feel his tip, running along your folds - he slaps it on your clit and you groan. You drop your head back against the arm of the couch as he sinks his tip into your cunt. Slowly, steadily, he pushes himself the rest of the way in, stuffing you so deliciously full of him that it nearly overtakes the pain.

Nearly.

You’ve used dildos before and you’re thankful for it, now, because you reckon without any sort of experience you’d feel absolutely split in half. Even now, there’s a dull burn sparking between your thighs, and you drop your head back, eyes squeezing shut as you try to adjust to the feeling. No, it didn’t necessarily hurt but it was different and that in itself was enough for you to need a moment to adjust. The way his cock twitched inside of you every so often encouraged you and subsequently turned you on beyond belief, and you don’t need too much time to adjust, after all.

Harry’s breathing is heavy and you can feel it against your face, barely an inch above yours. Poor guy, must be torture, holding out, because you can practically sense how needy he is. You lift your head up to press your lips to his, soft like the brush of a butterfly’s wing, before pulling back. “Move - fuck, please, move, Harry.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, pulling his hips back before thrusting them back in. That is certainly different, verging on the border of pain, but with a few more slow pumps, in and out of your dripping cunt, the pleasure is beginning to take it over.

It takes a moment to find a rhythm that’s enough for both of you. There’s still a slight discomfort but not enough to make you want to wait any longer. You’re finally having sex and you want it to keep going, to do it forever and ever with the absolute God hovering above you.

“So goddamn tight,” Harry grunts as he rocks his hips into yours. “Squeezing me so good. Never fucked anyone so tight in my life, I swear.”

His compliments, whether they were in the heat of the moment or genuine, makes you moan out - makes this entire thing feel so much better.

And fuck, it truly does feel good, especially when he angles his hips just so, every thrust sweeping against that sweet spot deep inside of you that he’s so adept at finding. For the first minute or so you’re fine with the leisurely pace he’s doing but you can tell it’s killing him and it’s starting to kill you, too. You’ve never been too patient, even if you’d waited 22 years for this exact moment.

You’re not a virgin. It feels good, the invisible badge of honor and the cock, going entirely too slow for your liking, deep in your pussy.

“Faster - need you to go faster,” you gasp as Harry’s thumb drops to your clit, rubbing slow circles on the sensitive nub, and they’re immediately a sharp contrast to the way he pulls his hips out and slams them back in. This is what he wanted, what he needed, and it’s what you need, too. No slow pumps. You need him fucking fast and hard and God it feels good, the way he presses down on your clit, sending pleasure coursing through your veins. “Feel so good inside me. God, keep doing that.”

Harry braces a hand on top of the couch, lifting his body slightly off of yours to piston his cock in and out of your cunt, taking him greedily and fully. He’d been with plenty of girls before - more than he could count - but there was something different, being the first guy to fill you up, to fuck you so hard you saw stars. And it was bloody good, watching you beneath him, your mouth falling open with a broken moan, pushing your pelvis up towards his, trying to help him along.

“Such a dirty girl,” Harry rasps, reaching down to grab the top of your dress - should’ve taken it off of you, really - and he pulls it down so aggressively you’re sure the fabric will rip. Your tits spill out of the top, covered only by your bra, and his fingers hook in the cups, pulling them away from your breasts, and in an instant his head is lowered to flick his tongue against your nipple. “Feels so good, hmm? Getting fucked for the very first time? Poor baby - never had a dick before. Tell me how - tell me how it feels.”

Your head is fucking spinning, is how it feels, and you’re not sure you’re going to be able to talk for days to come. You sob out your response, barely audible, but Harry hears it as if you’d spoken loud and clear - “So good, fuck, gonna cum.”

Two of his fingers pluck at your clit like the strings of a guitar, as if you’re merely something to be played with, but it’s enough to send you over the edge again. Your body convulses beneath him, eyes squeezing shut. Your cunt fluttering around him could make him cum but you can tell he wants to hold out - wants to see if you have one more in you, and you’re not sure if you do.

It’s as though Harry can sense the second you’ve milked your orgasm for all you can, because he pulls out of you the second you’re done. Before you can cry out, his hands grab your hips and flip you over with such ease it’s nearly embarrassing. You hardly have the muscle strength to hold yourself up, merely dropping your face into the cushion as his hands position himself at your cunt, pushing in without giving you a second to adjust, and it’s back to the hard, steady pace you’d reached before.

This position is a fucking change and one you love, a new angle letting him reach spots inside of you that you hadn’t even known existed. Your moans are muffled where your mouth is pressed to the cushion but Harry’s are loud and clear, piercing the air near violently as he cries out. You can’t see him but you try with all your might to picture exactly what he’s doing - picturing how his mouth is open and his eyes are shut and he’s lifting his hand to land it back down on your -

As though he can read your thoughts his hand goes up and smacks down on your ass, the noise cracking through the air, and you sob out at the feeling. You love that, you really do, and you’d never have expected yourself to but as he sends another slap to your skin you decide it’s one of your favorite things you’ve done this whole fucking evening.

“Gonna cum,” Harry grunts, hand gripping your thigh to rock your body in time with his. You wiggle your ass, pushing it against him, and for that, you earn another smack. “Where d’you want me to cum? Want it on your back, hmm? Or maybe flip you over again and cum on your pretty tits.”

You can’t verbalize anything, nothing except for broken cries and his name falling off your lips like a mantra, and he knows it.

“Or -” and his voice drops nearly a whole fucking octave, deeper than you’d even thought it could go, and you’re so close to your fourth that your ears are starting to ring - “does my dirty girl want me to cum in her pussy? Fill you up with my cum, fuck you so good until you’re stuffed with it.”

It’s that - his words, fucking filthy and rising above every other noise the two of you make - that ends you. Sends you hurtling into your fourth, now, the couch practically absorbing your moan (or more like a scream) and any ability you’d had to hold yourself up on shaky legs dissipates as you collapse against the couch but Harry’s there, holding you up, forcing your hips back into his you were made for it.

You don’t need to say anything - he knows what you want, can read you like a book by now, and you’ve only known him for tonight. So as his cock gives its final twitch inside your cunt, worn out from cumming four times in such a short amount of time, he makes no move to pull out. Just grips your hips and holds them close to his, and the feeling of hot ribbons of cum shooting into your cunt, filling you up exactly the way you’d wanted, is a sensation you don’t think you’ll ever forget.

When he’s done, pulling out slowly, you collapse fully onto the couch with nothing to hold you up - you’re fucking exhausted but you’ve never felt better in your life. A haze seems to be settling over your mind and body, preventing you from paying any attention to anything that’s not Harry as he stands up above you. And then you feel him, wrapping his arms around you, picking you up like a goddamn baby and you like it a lot.

You’re entirely too close to falling asleep in his arms before he lies you down on a surface softer than the couch - has to be the bed, the rich hotel beds, and as your head lands on the pillow you know you’re correct. God, feels like a pillow, and you’d like to spend the rest of your life right here.

Harry’s like a God in human form, truly, getting a warm washcloth from the restroom to wipe at the cum dripping down your thighs. You two speak in soft, hushed voices, as though making up for the absolutely inhuman noises you’d made before, as he pulls your dress over your head and deposits it on the ground. It is ripped, you can see, but you find you don’t really care. Not like you didn’t get it for less than $10 - and it’s just a reminder of every amazing thing that happened tonight, not that you’d ever need one. You know you’ll remember this night forever.

Finally he lies down beside you, shifting so he’s spooning you, arms firm around your waist and your head to his shoulder. This feels perfect, exactly what you needed to end off your first time perfectly.

“M’not a virgin anymore,” you murmur, adjusting yourself to press your body closer to his. “Feels good. Feel like I’m finally living.”

Harry chuckles at that, pressing a kiss to the side of your face. “Hope your first time was as good as it could be.”

You exhale softly. “It was perfect,” you tell him, voice soft and dripping with emotions you can’t possibly decipher. And it’s the absolute truth - even if your first time wasn’t with a boyfriend you were in love with, like your friends, you don’t think you’d ever have it any other way. “Maybe we could do it again, some time.”

Probably a mistake to ask, but there’s nothing to lose, really. Maybe a piece of your dignity if he says no, but it doesn’t hurt to ask. You’d do this a thousand times over again with him without hesitating.

He takes a beat to respond and you know you fucked up, already squeezing your eyes shut in regret, but then he rasps, “Definitely gotta do it again. Tomorrow night … and the night after that … and the night after that …” and you know you’re in for it.

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #can u tell i rushed the ending #harry styles blurb

[ray-ray-writings]

i really just love some sbi...maybe a drabble of the reader being awake for like 40+ hours and they’re streaming? so their chat is like spamming “go to beddd” and the reader is stubborn but eventually all of the sleepybois join her vc and are like “go to bed rn” so she does and they all express their concern afterwards and the reader confesses that they are feeling like they aren’t good enough and have to keep streaming and they all comfort her? reader is tommy’s age btw !

This is such a good idea lol... P.S. Enjoy this hurt/comfort because I have an SBI imagine coming out tonight and it’s all hurt and like very little comfort... It’s so sad guys... But enjoy this now lol. 

So like I imagine that you wake up at 7 am, do your things to get ready for school, and go to school. You’re in school till three and then you get home, grab a snack, and go to your room and begin your stream. You do a lot of things on your stream which causes your stream to go for nine hours. Thank god it was Friday and you didn’t have school the next morning. But you’re yawning so much that chat begins to beg you to end stream and get rest. You try to brush them off, but they threaten to get Philza and so you huff and say your goodbyes before ending your stream with the promise that you were going to go to sleep… Yeah you lied.

Instead of getting into bed, you down a few energy drinks and begin editing for a new video you wanted to upload. That takes a few hours and so by the time you’re done, you realize the sun has come up and you’ve been editing for many many hours and have been up for over 24 hours. Regardless of the fact you’re tired, you are like, “well I can’t go to sleep now! That would throw off my sleep schedule, and I wouldn’t be able to stream and that would disappoint a lot of people... plus I’m not tired!” And so you begin making more content that you plan on uploading. As well as doing some of your school work. After a while, you glance at the time and realize you have to start stream soon. So you quickly save everything that you’re working on, go to the bathroom, go to the kitchen, grab a few snacks and some more energy drinks before heading back to your bedroom and beginning to stream again. So for a while you’re playing your games and talking to chat and somehow, probably because a donation asked you how your night went, but you let it slip that you didn’t actually go to sleep the night before and chat explodes. They beg you to go to bed and get the rest that you need and so very much deserve, but you ignore them. “Guys, I’m fine! I’m not even *big yawn* that tired… okay I know that looks bad but seriously I’m *yawn*.... Chat please” But they don’t stop spamming, asking you to go to sleep, but you refuse. You think that if you don’t stream, you’ll lose everything you’ve worked so hard to build. Your fans would slowly realize how bad of a streamer you are and you would lose everything. While you’re lost in your thoughts, people have started to spam the Sleepy boys, explaining what was happening. Philza is the first to see the worried tweets and immediately contacts Wilbur, Techno, and Tommy asking if they know about what’s happening. They don’t and so they decide to ring you as a group, after all if they all ask you to go to bed, there is no way you’ll be able to say no to them. You get a text from Philza asking you to join a Discord call and your attention snaps to chat. “Alright, which one of you snitched on me to my dad? What?” You demand, imitating a Tiktok you once saw. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sw2v42-nG4c . Your phone buzzes again and this time it’s Wilbur also asking you to join the call. “And my brother’s too?” Chat begs you to join the call and so you let out a sigh and do what you’re told. As soon as you join the call, Wilbur’s voice fills your ears, “What are you doing awake?” “It’s nice to see you too Will… Techno, Phil, Tommy…” you greet, ignoring the question. “Go to sleep. You haven’t slept in 36 hours.” Techno deadpans. “Coming from your Mr. Insomniac” you shoot back. “Sleep” Tommy demands causing you to roll your eyes. “No” you mock, “I’m *yawn* fine guys. Really thanks for the check in, but I’m *yawn* fine.” “Those two yawns say otherwise.” Nothing seems to be working so Phil pulls out the big guns. “I will call your parents if you do not end your stream this instant and go to bed.” And you know he isn’t joking and if he does that, you’re parents will ground you. So you let out a defeated sigh but mute and deafen yourself in discord, wishing chat, who is now celebrating, a goodnight before ending stream. You unmute and undeafen in discord to wish the others a goodnight. “Goodnight Y/N… One question before you go though… Why would you do that to yourself. You obviously knew you needed to sleep, why push yourself like that. You know your fans would understand” Phil asks softly. And you don’t know if it’s the gentleness of the question or the fact you hadn’t slept in 36 hours, but you burst into tears. The boys let you cry it out, all a bit worried but not wanting to pressure you into talking or wanting you to feel bad. Once your sobs calm down, you apologize, “Sorry. Sorry. I’m just overly tired and emotional… But… It’s just that I’m not good. I’m not good enough. And I know that. I really do. But somehow my fans don’t. So I have to keep it up and push myself because if I don’t they’ll realize. They will realize I’m a fraud and that I’m not good enough and they’ll leave me and then you guys will leave me too and I’ll just lose you and I can’t handle that… Sorry, you probably don’t care. You didn’t need me to dump that on you like that… sorry.” The boys are silent for a moment. Their hearts ache at the confession. How could you not think that you’re good enough? You’re such a good and dedicated streamer and it shows in the content that you produce. It’s actually Tommy that’s the first to talk. “That’s bullshit” “Tommy!” the other three scold. “It is! Y/N is such a good streamer, one of the best on the platform! And they’re still so young! You’re fans aren’t going to hate you because you take time for yourself. In fact they’ll probably be more irritated if you don’t take care of yourself. You’re a good streamer Y/N… A great one. Of course you’re good enough. And you’re never going to lose us… We love you. You’re one of us.” Everyone is shocked at Tommy’s mature words. But they agree 100%. “He’s right kiddo, you’re never going to lose us. And you are a good streamer, but in order to be that good streamer you have to take care of yourself.” Philza chimes in. “Phil is also right. Do you know how hard chat bullies me when I don’t take care of myself? Really hard. Our fans love us and they want what is best for us. Taking care of yourself is a must kid.” Techno jumps in. “What they said” Wilbur deadpans causing everyone to break into laughter. “What? It’s true! You all said everything I was going to say! Stop laughing at me!” He whines, causing you to laugh harder. “Thank you boys. I feel a lot better… I’m going to go to sleep now… For real this time. Thank you. I love you.” “We love you too” they all chime back. “Goodnight” “Goodnight” and then you disconnect from the call. Sitting in your chair for a moment, allowing you to collect yourself before standing from the chair and wandering over to your bed and collapsing, your eyes closing and body shutting down into sleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. You were really lucky to have such amazing friends… Goodnight reader. Goodnight.

#mcyt #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt drabble #sbi #sbi imagine #sbi x reader #sbi drabble #sleepy bois #sleepy boys inc #philza #technoblade #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #ray responds #anon #asks

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 19:

A/N: Here it is besties, v sorry for this but I live to cause chaos!! They both have some growing and living to do over the next chapters which will span around ten years. Stick around it’s gonna be interesting! Also Hotch looks rlly good here hehe

Warnings: None, really. Swearing, mentions of pregnancy, heavy angst.

———

“I'm scared I'm going to spend the rest of my life in a state of yearning, regardless of where I am.” - Melina Marchetta

———

08:00

It happens slowly then all at once. He knows he feels lighter, physically, before he’s fully conscious - can’t feel the warm weight of you on top of him. He frowns as he slowly awakens fully, feeling for your body next to him.

When all he feels are sheets, he comes to, a little quicker, opening one eye to look around. When he doesn’t see you, he figures you left to go to the bathroom but a piece of paper on your pillow catches his eye.

He frowns as he sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes when the doorbell begins to ring incessantly. He looks between the door, the paper and then the door again, tucking the note underneath his pillow to come back to later. He takes a cursory look at the clock -

08:00

He runs downstairs with a grin, thinking maybe you went out to grab coffee and forgot you didn’t have a key, but when he opens the door, icy shock runs through his veins.

“Hi, Aaron.”

“Haley?” He replies stunned. He glances behind him, increasingly alarmed now as to your whereabouts.

She averts her gaze from Hotch’s half naked form, it’s nothing she hasn't seen before but there’s a barrier between them now. Even with what she’s about to tell him.

“Can we talk?”

“-This…. isn’t really a good time.” He replies, glancing behind him again. He uses his body to block what lies behind him, clothing littering the floor as evidence of last night. His cheeks run hot when he realises Haley already spotted it all.

“We need to talk. I wouldn’t have shown up like this, but she told me to come by at 8. Said I should talk to you.”

He frowns. “Who?” He asks, despite hazarding a very good guess he already knows the answer.

“Look, can I just come in? I'm really cold and this is incredibly awkward.”

He sighs, “Yeah- yeah come in.” He steps aside to let her in, picks his shirt up off the floor and begins to button it as he invites her to sit.

Haley tells him that she managed to track you down outside your apartment yesterday. His jaw ticks and he runs his thumb over his bottom lip, agitated. “Why would you do that?”

“I figured I owed her an apology. Ultimately I was the one who put her in danger with-” She licks her lips. “With him. I thought we should talk.”

“So you resorted to stalking?” He paces. He can’t figure out why you’d ask her to come by now, especially if you were going to spend the night last night.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She looks sick. “I kind of knew that you felt something for her, and I figured she probably did too. Clearly I was right.”

“I’m not doing this with you.”

She throws her hands up. “No! No, that's not what I meant. I need to tell you something but before I did, I needed to tell her, I owed her some courtesy after everything at least.”

He tilts his head and his eyes narrow. “Get to the point.”

She pulls out an envelope and slides it across the coffee table. She breathes shakily, nodding at it. “It’s all in there.”

He watches her quizzically, confused at her demeanour - she’s never been one to be at a loss for words. He takes a seat opposite, studying her as he peels open the envelope.

A sliver of cold panic works its way through his veins as he scans the page.

LABCORP DNA TESTING SERVICES

Sample 1 - BROOKS/HOTCHNER : Positive Match

Sample 2 - BROOKS/HOTCHNER : Positive Match

“What the hell is this?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

She swallows thickly, abetting her gaze. “It’s a paternity test. I’m pregnant.” She tells him quietly.

His chest tightens and his head starts swimming. “What? I don’t believe you.”

“It’s right there on the paper. It’s yours.” She looks like she’s holding back vomit, the colour on her face drained. She studies Aaron for any kind of a reaction but he still looks confused.

“I want another one.” He tells her waving the paper. “How far along are you?”

“3 and a half months.”

“Wait,” He winces as the cold realisation hits him. “You told her?”

She nods.

The colour drains from his face and he shoots up from his seat, remembering everything he’d told you yesterday about how he would do things differently if he ever became a father. Knowing now what you knew then, he can’t begin to fathom what must have been going through your mind yesterday.

He shoots up the stairs three at a time, hoping he’s not too late.

———

06:00

Your eyes burn with the lack of sleep and the aftermath of your breakdown. You lay still against Aaron’s chest, your hand splayed flat against his skin. You’ve been watching him sleep for most of the night, memorising all you can about him, and imagining an alternate future where you could’ve ended up together.

But it doesn’t help. All it goes is drive a stake deeper into your heart because no matter how much you imagine, it doesn’t change your future. The sun begins to rise sure enough, a promise of another day but the lighter it gets, the more your stomach turns and the tighter your chest gets.

You pull Aaron in closer one more time, fusing your body to his and you close your eyes. His hands run down your bag gently as he stirs in his sleep. You take a minute to take him in one last time, despite your aching heart you try to hold onto the happiness you’d felt before it all came crashing down.

You doubt you’ll feel for anyone the way you feel for him. But you can’t be selfish, not now. You whisper to him, barely audible, the words you need to get off your chest and with a gentle kiss to his sleeping face, you slink out of his arms.

You gather your clothes, and from the credenza drawer downstairs, grab a pen and paper.

‘Dearest Aaron…’

Tears stain your face as you initial the bottom of the letter and with a final breath, you fold it and scrawl his initials on top. You reluctantly walk back upstairs and when you see Aaron’s peaceful face in a deep sleep, it takes everything in you to walk away. You place the note on your pillow, and turn away before you change your mind.

But as you approach the door, you turn to take one last look at him, willing your memory to hold on to this image, to the feel of him. To what it feels like to be loved by him.

“Goodbye Aaron.” You whisper.

———

08:30hrs:

He struggles to get his pants on, throwing on odd socks and grabbing the note on the pillow which he stuffs haphazardly into his three day old jacket. He runs down the stairs three at a time, passing Haley on the way as he grabs his keys.

She looks at him with panic and confusion. “Go back to the hotel, I’ll call you!” He tells her. She looks around, stunned as the door slams shut behind him.

He fumbles with his phone, dialling your number, but it goes straight to voicemail. He tries Emily but it goes to voicemail too. He dials the direct line to your assistant and on the last ring, she picks up.

“Agent Hotchner?”

“Leah?”

“Yeah? Is everything okay?”

He desperately asks if she has any idea of where you are today, if you have anything on your docket.

“Not that I can see, no. Is everything okay?”

“Look, can you find out if she’s home and call me?” He hangs up and purposely turns on the sirens to weave through traffic to your place. In a cruel twist of fate, he curses the numerous traffic logs he encounters on his way, thinking he’ll deal with the fallout of using his lights without reason later.

He finally turns onto your street, tires screeching as he pulls up behind a blacked out towncar, into which an older gentleman appears to be hauling suitcases. He doesn’t bother closing the door as he exits his SUV, his eyes trailing on the suitcases being piled into the trunk of the towncar when he hears your voice.

He stops in his tracks.

“Alright, James. I think that’s the last of the b-”

The air leaves your lungs when you catch sight of him. There’s a brief moment when you think you think you’re imagining him but your chest squeezes when you look at his face, halfway between confused, devastated and just plain betrayed.

He utters your name with a shaky whisper. “What is this? What’s going on?” He asks unsteady, already knowing the answer.

You hand your bags to James who ducks between you to receive them, the tension thick and heavy. “I’m sorry, I planned on…” You struggle for the words. “Being done earlier than this. This is what I wanted to avoid.”

He retreats, eyebrows shooting up. “This, what? You wanted to avoid saying goodbye to me? You couldn’t even extend me the grace of telling me you were leaving?” He pulls out your note from his pocket, shaking it in front of you. “You left this and thought it would be enough? After everything that happened with us.”

“Come on, Aaron. You know that’s not what I meant. But you know why I’m leaving, it’s why you’re here. And I knew you would do this, I knew you’d try and talk me out of going. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” You swallow the lump in your throat.

The desperation inside him starts to claw at him. “You don’t have to leave. We’re adults, we can figure this out.” He takes both of your hands tightly in his.

You shake your head. “I won’t put you in that position, I know how important this is to you. I won’t put myself in that position either.” He opens his mouth to oppose you but he knows as well as you do that this is the end. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this but this was easier when I had a stalker, all I had to worry about was making it through the day without being murdered. But things are real now, you have a career and a family to worry about, I have to go to college. I guess we just didn’t think this through.”

He retreats slightly, a hurt expression on his face. “That doesn’t mean it was wrong.” He says, quietly. “I told you I’d wanted to be with you for a long time, and I meant it. I don’t regret any of it.”

You cup his cheek. “Neither do I. But we both know what needs to happen. I can’t stay.”

He caresses your hand on his cheek with bereft eyes. “You changed me, you know?”

You laugh dryly. “With your gig at the BAU? Forget it, you’ll be saving people left and right.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice cracks. “I’m just sorry we couldn’t have more time. I think this could have been something.”

“Did you read the note?” He shakes his head. “Wait until I’m gone to read it - you don’t have to. But if you ever find yourself doubting or second-guessing who you were to me - who you are to me? You should read that. It has everything you’ll need to know.”

He brings his forehead to yours, glassy eyes watching you with so much affection you think you might just break. “Can we stay here? Just for a minute? I’m not ready to let you go yet.” He asks.

You nod and loop your arms around his neck, tiptoeing to reach his height. He hugs you back with ferocity, face burying in the crook of your neck as he takes you in, memorises the way you body slots against his, how you smell and feel. He presses his eyes shut, willing his brain to commit every last feeling to memory, terrified that there may come a day when he no longer remembers how he loves you.

You muffle your sobs as best as you can, clutching at the material of his shirt, and the small tufts of hair at the nape of his neck. Try as you might, when you close your eyes, all you can see is a reel of your relationship with Aaron, spanning from the moment you met to now.

All of it comes rushing back: the gazebo, your apartment, numerous late night coffees and dinners, his face in the cabin, the hospital and of course, the nights and days you spent in bed. The pond, the balcony, the laughter. The love. You feel a hole consuming your chest and you struggle to breathe, cursing yourself for falling in love with the one man you couldn’t possibly ever have.

James beeps from inside the towncar, and you reluctantly loosen your grip on Aaron, sniffling as you let him go. It feels infinitely harder to detangle yourself from him now, like tearing a bandage off of a raw wound, but you know you need to go.

And so does he.

His eyes are watery when you look at him, yours mirroring his heartbreak. “I guess this is it.” He rasps.

You clear your throat. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Can I kiss you goodbye?”

You nod solemnly. His hands cup your cheeks lovingly, wiping away a stray tear. He leans in, and presses his lips to yours for the last time. He takes his time, allowing himself to linger in the moment, and convey everything he can in this kiss without having to say it. Wants to remember how soft your lips are and the way you taste.

Your tears fall steadily now, your own hands tangling in his hair. You selfishly wish you could stay here, throw away any and all integrity just to keep him for yourself. But you both have things to do, futures to live.

You break the kiss, forehead resting against his. His hand cradles the back of your head, and he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, lips lingering before he finally lets go.

You fish in your pocket and take his hand in yours, dropping your key into his palm. He looks at you quizzically. “Keep it, give it to the super, I don’t mind. But lock up for me?” You ask him.

He nods, closing his hand around yours, a desperate attempt to keep you close for a few more fleeting moments. He presses a desperate kiss laced with finality on your lips as you release yourself from his embrace.

Watching you reach for the car door sends him into a tailspin. You’re just about in the car when you hear him call your name. His voice is strained. “Listen, I just- before you go. There’s something I need to tell you.” His face is contorted with desperation and his voice laced with something utterly heartbroken.

You know where he’s going with this. You weren’t sure if he felt it until now, horrible fucking timing, but it’s still something.

“Don’t. I know what you’re going to say, Aaron. Please don’t.” You sob. “This is already one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, please don’t make it harder. I know what you’re going to say. But before you do… just please don’t?” You plead.

He swallows thickly, choking back tears, too. “I do, though.”

You breathe through the hole in your chest. “I know, Aaron. I do, too.” Your smile is bitter as you open the car door and step inside gingerly, keeping your eyes on the sidewalk where he stands. He walks over to you, tangles your fingers with his briefly before cradling your chin, wiping another stray tear.

“Maybe in another life?” He whispers.

“Maybe in another life.” You tell him with a sad smile.

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

I love you.

“Goodbye, Aaron.”

I love you.

He watches the car peel away longingly, muttering aloud the words that he’d whispered two nights ago when he thought you were asleep.

“I love you.”

———

09:15

Your car pulls up to the airstrip forty-five minutes later and you can hear the deafening engine of the plane before you even step out of the car. You place a $50 in the hand of the man who opens your door for you, throwing a quick thank you his way as you obscure your puffy eyes with a pair of sunglasses.

You offer the men loading your luggage a small smile and hand them their tips, before boarding the plane. You spot Emily on the far left side of the plane, her face buried in a copy of Mother Night.

When she sees you, she shoots up from her seat, throwing her book onto the table in front of her. “Oh my God! You came! Hi!” Her good arm wraps around your neck for a hug and you stiffen against her. “What made you change your mind?” She asks.

You close your mouth just as soon as you open it when the curtain dividers open.

“Darling!” Ambassador Prentiss emerges from her office, behind a divider on the plane. She has a phone receiver against her chest, you assume to muffle her voice to whoever is on the other end. “Emmy and I are so glad you decided to join us, we’ll be taking off in around 15 minutes.” She tells you, glancing at her watch.

You shoot her a polite smile and thank her, and she looks between you and Emily, excusing herself back to her office.

“I’ll let you girls catch up.”

Emily leads you to the seat opposite her, her face now showing signs of concern. She watches your face for an answer but when nothing comes, she asks outright.

“What happened? I thought you were going to stick around and see what happens? You had a date right? Her words scratch your skin.

“Date’s off.” You swallow.

Her eyes widen. “What? Why?!”

“His ex is pregnant and it’s his.” You reply nonchalantly, rapidly blinking back tears behind your sunglasses.

Her mouth drops open. “Holy shit! Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” You reply, gazing out of the window.

Emily watches you in shock, unsure of what to say. She can tell by your demeanour that you’re in shock but she can’t do anything except hold your hand and tell you she’s sorry with a quiet voice.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

———

09:00

When he keys open your apartment door, he’s hit with an eerie silence, a heart wrenching emptiness. He attempts to turn a lamp on but the electricity has been turned off, leaving the living room cold and dark.

His mind fills in the spaces between the emptiness, picturing you sitting on your couch, or on the bar stools around your island. Can hear the incessantly loud TV, and your laughter from your room.

Your room is just as empty too, a few stray clothes hangers remain in the wardrobes and when he turns to look out at your balcony, he swears he sees your shadow outside. He makes sure the doors and windows are secure and makes his way back to your living room, the entire experience harrowing, like walking through a graveyard of memories.

His legs give out as he walks back to the living room, sinking onto the couch. A picture of you catches his eye on the side table next to him, the same one he’d caressed gently when you’d been taken by Jordan. He’d thought then, that was the worst moment of his life, had he known what was to come, he’d have reserved his judgement.

He swallows the lump in his throat as he gently brushes a finger over the glass, unable to keep the tears from coming now. He wishes with everything you could have stayed, can feel it deep within him that you’ll keep a part of his heart for years to come. Then he remembers the note.

He opens the folded paper with trembling hands.

‘Dearest Aaron,

I sit in your living room right now, struggling for the words to write but I can’t seem to come up with anything that truly encapsulates how I feel. How I’m incredibly sorry to have to leave like this, how I wish with everything in me that I didn’t have to, I wish this could have ended differently.

I want to say thank you. You may not know or understand this, but for all the good and bad, you truly changed my life. I met you during the darkest and scariest part of my life, when I had nobody - when I was all alone. And in you came like a light and protected me fiercely, taught me everything I needed to save my life. You did that.

You saved me.

You changed me.

Despite the circumstances, we did have something, a friendship, maybe the start of something more - something real. Don’t ever doubt that. The last two days were two of the best of my life, a fitting reward, I thought, after everything I’d been through. But I couldn’t let you talk me into staying, because I know you, and you would have tried, told me that we could’ve worked something out - and it would’ve been selfish of me to stay.

I want you to know that I am so incredibly happy for you. This wasn't an easy decision, but I’m leaving of my own choice. I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be an amazing father. That child will be loved and oh so lucky to have you and your warmth as a father. I know how much this means to you, how important it is for you to give your child a better life than the one you and Sean had.

And you will.

Thank you for everything you did for me, thank you for saving me over and over again. Thank you for teaching me to be brave, and for coming into my life. My hope for you is that you’ll build a wonderful life with your beautiful little family and achieve everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

You’ll change the world one day.

Know that I will always have a special place for you in my heart.

I’ll never forget you.

All my love.’

He swallows the burning in his chest. Two days were all he had with you and he stupidly saw himself able to imagine a future with you, could imagine loving you for the rest of his life - but then he’d been in love with you long before you’d asked him to stay.

He winces as something digs into his chest and he reaches for his inside jacket pocket until something cold makes contact with his fingers.

His heart stops, molten lava running through his veins.

Your necklace.

He grips it until the sharp edges of the pendant feel like they’re about to puncture his skin.

Maybe he wasn’t destined for peace, for love. The love that he wanted. Maybe a happy ending wasn’t written for him and he’d have to make peace with that. At least he had the memory of your face burnt into his brain, the smell of your hair, the sound of your laughter.

That finite part of you would get him through eternity.

———

20:00

You’ve rejected every meal you’ve been offered by the staff aboard the plane, instead choosing to down Emily’s bottle of red wine. It eases the heaviness in your head, that’s true but the ache in your chest still remains.

Emily’s since drifted off to sleep, her book laying open against her stomach, meal half-eaten. You stare at the blinking lights of the plane and the clouds below you until everything starts to blur.

You love him. He loves you. That much is true. You never had believed in the concept of the right person but the wrong time, how could you? If the person was right, the timing would surely be inconsequential.

That was until you met Aaron.

In this life, in the grey harsh reality, after everything you had been through with him, the simple fact that two people love one another pales in comparison to the bloody reality of commitments, matters of the mind and sacrifice.

He loves you and you love him. It just isn’t enough.

He aches for you and you ache for him. But it’s still just out of reach.

Your hearts aren’t your own anymore. But you have to go on anyway.

———

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#aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch fluff #hotch smut #hotch fic #hotch imagine #cm fic rec #cm #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #cm imagine

[drwcn]

midnight sun [snippet 14], following [10]

*aka the reveal scene y'all are probably waiting for, sorry it doesn't live up to expectation, lol im v tired*

↦

Lan Wangji used to have a dream, a repeating one. Nothing much happened in it, except he was back in the cave at the Burial Mount. It was how he remembered it before the Siege of Nevernight and the subsequent raid. Wei Ying was always there, perched on that slab of rock she claimed as bed. Lan Wangji knew she wasn't real. There was nothing in this world that could make him forget the terror of her wrenching herself from his grip and falling into the molten chasm. Yet there she was, sitting cross-legs on that rock, smiling at him, always smiling, as though she hadn't died violently and alone.

L-Lan Zhan - Lan Z-Zhan - Lan Zh-an -

He had never been able to discern what it was that she had tried to tell him...

Now, he finally knew, knew that he'd been fooled - no - that he'd been a fool.

Such a fool.

~~~

Everything happened slowly and all at once.

Yan'er!

Wei Wuxian shoved aside the arm Lan Wangji had raised to shield her from the blast of Jiang Yan's spiritual rage colliding with his xiongzhang's Shuoyue.

Lan Wangji watched, transfixed and horrified, as Wei Wuxian swept across the temple, a torrent of black cloth and dark unbound hair like demonic smoke coalescing around the girl curled on the ground.

The temple darkened. Shadows seemed to be drawn in to Wei Wuxian by a force unseen, and the epicenter of her being emanated a quiet eerie darkness that choked out any light. She gathered Jiang Yan from the ground and cradled the girl in her arms. Her eyes were red when she lifted them to cast a murderous glare upon Lan Xichen.

"Wei-gu'niang, I -" The master of Gusu Lan stumbled back half a step, horrified at what he'd inadvertently done and at the silent threat in those blood red eyes. "Is she - I did not mean to -"

Jiang Yan coughed abruptly, breaking the tension and jolting her mother's attention back to her. Rapidly, the demonic red faded from Wei Wuxian's eyes.

"Yan'er, Yueqian, you're all right; you're alright, just breathe."

Jiang Yan twisted and arched, pulling in several stridorous breath as she fought to quell the erratic torrents of qi flooding her meridians. Her gaze fleeted about, left and right, disoriented by the impact of her earlier rebound, until she focused in on the face in front of her, peering down in distress.

"You're alright, yatou. You're safe." (yatou = 丫头, girlie, lassie, can be an endearment term for girls)

For a minute Jiang Yan did nothing but stare up unblinkingly. She opened her mouth, teeth still rust-stained from the blood she'd spat up, but no sound came out. Then, all at once, she seemed to let go. Colour returned to her cheeks, overtaking her from collar to crown and drawing a shimmer to her eyes that Wei Wuxian realized, belatedly, was the refraction of candlelight through tears.

"阿娘。" A-niang. "哎- 哎，好孩子，我的好孩子，我是你阿娘。这么些年，是我对不起你。是阿娘的错，都是阿娘的错。" Y-yes, good child, my good child, I am your mother. All these years, I've let you down. It's my fault. All my fault. "阿娘，曕儿好想你。" A-niang, Yan'er missed you so much.

It need not be said that Jiang Yan could not conceivably have missed Wei Wuxian as she was, having never known her or known of her. Nevertheless, no one in that temple questioned the sentiment behind those earnest, innocent words. It was most natural, the longing of a child for the mother who must've have existed to bring her into this world but did not have the fortune to remain in it long enough for them to meet.

"A-niang, I feel...strange."

Wei Wuxian smiled. "I know, the feeling will pass. You'll be alright. Close your eyes, Yan'er, you need to rest."

Jiang Yan hesitated. "You won't leave? I still have so many things I wish to tell you. Promise, you won't leave?"

"I won't leave," promised Wei Wuxian, passing a hand gently across Jiang Yan's temple and leaving a glowing red talisman in its wake, which sunk softly into her daughter's skin. "Sleep."

Trusting, Jiang Yan smiled and grew still. Her breathing evened, and her head lulled to the side.

Across the temple, still reeling from the revelation, Lan Wangji struggled to his feet.

"Wei Ying -"

But he was not the only one. A sharp swoosh was all the warning there was before Sandu's blade edge swung beneath his chin.

"Jiang Cheng!"

"Jiang-zongzhu!"

"Jiang-xiong! " No one noticed when Nie Huaisang had awakened amidst the commotion.

Lan Wangji turned slowly to Jiang Wanyin and faced the man who had raised his daughter in his stead. In doing so, he had kept her identity hidden from the world.

Lan Wangji didn't know whether to thank him or hate him.

For thirteen years he had mistakenly believed that it was Jiang Wanyin who'd betrayed Wei Wuxian the most. He couldn't understand how anyone could do to the mother of their child what Jiang Wanyin did to Wei Ying at Nevernight. Especially yesterday, when Wen Ning had revealed the truth about his golden core, Lan Wangji had nearly been driven to murder by his fury. To think Wei Ying had given Jiang Wanyin everything she had, had hollowed herself out in more ways than one, and yet he had turned his back on her and treated her to the point of his sword.

Lan Wangji wanted him dead, had wanted him dead for so long. But he held back, employing his churlish silence and his spite as his only weapons of offense, not only because slaying a sect master would be an open declaration of war between their clans but because he could not deprive Wei Ying's only child of the one last parent she had left in this world. So many times he thought about telling her the truth, about how Jiang Wanyin had been the one to murder her mother, but what would that achieve but cause her more misery? She was happy as she was, living in her blessed ignorance, and because she could not hate Jiang Wanyin, Lan Wangji would hate him on her behalf.

But now, after the truth had been revealed and exposed to him every misconception and false notion he had stored like festering pus in his heart, he realized that the hatred that he felt must surely have been mutual.

"You don't get to speak to her, you faithless bastard." Jiang Wanyin cursed through grounded teeth. He glanced at Lan Xichen. "Zewu-jun, is this the true face of Gusu Lan? Hypocrites and liars who either uses and abandons or steadfastly defends a wretched creature beyond redemption at the expense of one of your own. Even if you do not recognize her as so, Yan'er is your niece!! She shares your blood!! How could you hurt her?!"

Lan Xichen had gone bloodless. Sweat dripped from his chin. His hands shook. "Jiang-zongzu, I - I did not know - I swear I did not mean - "

"Did not know?" Jiang Cheng laughed. "You think this matter can settled, can excused, if you simply exclaim ignorance?! What your perfect, honourable brother did to my sister, the absolute wretched state he had left her in after he violated her virtue - "

"A-CHENG!" Wei Wuxian yelled, head bowed and unable to look at any of them. "It's all the past; what's done is done. Stop, just stop -"

"I will NOT stop!" Jiang Cheng snapped back. "I've waited fourteen years for this moment. You may not care about yourself, Wei Wuxian, but you're of Yunmeng Jiang." He turned back to the younger of the Lan brothers, and continued through barely concealed malevolence, "What Lan Wangji owes you, owes Yan'er, I will make him pay."

[tbh]

#cql #the untamed #wangxian #midnight sun #lanyan #fem!wwx #cursed au #okay it's cursed #very very crused #corie fics #cql ficlet #apologies for any spelling or grammar erros #we don't proofread in this house #we die like lwj is about to be trottled by jc