#BUT DAMN YOU BRAIN THIS WAS THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT I NEEDED
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Me, currently struggling with this next chapter of my KinnPorscheBig fic: Man… I just wish my brain would give me some good old inspiration to help me-
My brain: Here’s a whole new fic idea for KinnPorscheBig!
Me:
#venus speaks#Am I going to write it? Probably!#Listen it’s a good one and I can maybe try for a one shot or like 3 chapters#BUT DAMN YOU BRAIN THIS WAS THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT I NEEDED#*grumbles as I go to map out how to do this wip*
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I am exhausted, good heavens.
#hey watch this neat trick I can do [cries]#love that for me#BUT#BUT- the actual EFFORT I put these days to not make a suicide jokes is *chefs kiss* phenomenal#actively shitting bricks as I physically have to stop myself from saying I want a car to hit me for the 50th time that day#I am not progressing any more than I am downgressing or whatever the opposite word is. but girlies#and boysies and peepsies#my lipgloss is popping and my eyebags are gucci- and so I shall prevail#MAN this tiredness is BONE DEEP man- it's like it's engraved into my goddamn clavicles#sorry that was like the only bone name I could remember- I don't even know what a clavicle is#anyways- I need to fall asleep forever and never wake up. But not in like a dying way#I just need to stop waking up tired and being tired and going to sleep tired and living tired like GIRL#WTF AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WHEN SLEEP STOPS SLEEPING#I JUST SLEPT 10 HOURS HOW ARE YOU STILL TIRED#I am so tired that i stopped liking shit- like that SUCKS my dudes#I sometimes Don't Like art now and that is WILD to me because that was lowkey the One Thing that got me going#I used to actually LIKE english class! and reading Shakespear and shit!!!! and history class!! Now I don't!! Where did the spark go??????#Now everything feels like a chooooooore and it sucks major dick#and my graaaades are slipping because I stopped giving a damn but I NEED. TO. GIVE. A. DAMN#because those are like highkey lowkey and every-other-key my grades and I need them to go into uni so I don't die <333#I need to spite little mini me who said I wasn't going to live past 13 because BITCH- guess how old I'm turning next week????????#THAT'S RIGHT- 17 YEARS OLD- FUCK YEAH BABY I'M STILL NOT DEAD#SUCK MY BIG ASS SHLONG MINI-ME#and then I have a big biology exam the day after so- funnnnn!!#anywho- should I tag this as vent? this probably counts as vent right? like among us? impostor and shit?#sorry I think my brain is actively rotting out of my ears right now#vent post#personal vent#tw vent#tw sui talk
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"The fuck are you doin' up so late, hah?"
"I could say the same to you, Ryo."
The pink haired man in your college dorm rolls his eyes. "I had football practice. You know that. What's your excuse?"
You shrug. "Homework."
He squints at you in annoyance, kicking off his shoes without much care as to where they went, much to your protest. "Didn't you take like a billion AP courses back in high school? Why're you so busy?"
You raise an eyebrow at him. "I still got exams to study for." you yawn, tiredly. "What time is it?"
Sukuna sighs. "12:36."
You blink, your sleep deprived mind trying to wrap itself around that information. "They kept you till midnight?!"
He sighs, discarding his jacket and throwing his sweaty shirt onto his desk chair, joining the accumulating pile of laundry you know you'll have to do later. "We're going against Tokyo tomorrow. Said we needed to work our asses off to beat Satoru Gojo."
You raise your eyebrow. You didn't know much about football, but Sukuna forced you to go to enough games that you had the general idea. "The quarterback? They do realize you're only second to him stats-wise, right? It's very possible you'll beat him. The strongest has a lot of weaknesses too."
Sukuna grins, kissing your head before slipping into the shower.
He's not sure when he fell in love with you. You two were on basically on opposite sides of the spectrum that was college social circles. And then one day he saw you in the library, barely sparing a glance at him and brushing past him to leave.
To be honest, he was kinda shocked. Most girls tended to get extremely flustered or excited when they saw him, and you...you basically didn't give a shit.
But Ryomen Sukuna never encountered rejection - even if indirectly.
He wasn't going to start with you.
Eventually, you started to warm up to him, and you saw a different side to the merciless and arrogant heartthrob that walked through the halls of campus with such confidence it was almost palpable.
The next semester, the two of you became roommates.
Now, where there was you, there was Sukuna. The definition of a power couple, you supplied the brains and he the brawn.
Sukuna never really thought he was one for love, but when he steps out of the shower, finding you slumped over your papers, asleep, he seems to fall in love with you all over again.
You were strong.
Maybe not physically, by the determination and fiery look in your eyes he saw everyday was something he always respected, and eventually, something he fell in love with.
Slipping on a shirt and sweats, he stacks your papers to the best of his ability, before carefully lifting your sleeping form gently. "Damn woman, you're gonna be the death of me...falling asleep on me like this..." he mutters, a soft look in his eyes.
He'd rather die than have anyone see him like this, but you? You were an exception.
And as the brings you close and feels the soft lull of sleep beckoning him closer, he realizes you always would be.
A/N: This might be ooc shhhhhh this was just rlly cute I love him hehehe
#. ݁₊ ⊹ 𝖐𝖆𝖊'𝖘 𝖇𝖑𝖚𝖗𝖇𝖘 . ݁˖ .#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen x reader#sukuna ryoumen x reader#sukuna fluff#sukuna ryoumen x you#sukuna ryoumen x y/n#sukuna x y/n#sukuna ryomen x you#ryomen sukuna x y/n#sukuna ryomen#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x you#jjk drabbles#jjk fic#jjk fluff#jjk imagines#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk sukuna
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Melon!AU Part 2
If it had been anyone but Cass to suggest it, Bruce is certain that both Damian and Tim would have responded with an immediate and vehement, Are you insane?!
But it is Cass. It's Cass, so Damian makes a choked sound and bites out, “Help. The Pit Demon?”
Similarly, Tim chokes out, “I don't know about that one, Black Bat. I mean- it's- it looks-”
“Judging books?” Cass asks through comms, a gentle disapproval in her tone that rivals Alfred’s in effectiveness. Bruce himself feels a little cowed by it.
Diplomacy had not, after all, been on his mind before his daughter spoke up.
He should know better than to make assumptions, especially if she's right and the creature isn't as hostile as it seems.
That's still a very big if.
“Commissioner,” Bruce says lowly, turning his head. Gordon is lingering near the roof access stairway, having come up to brief them but seeming reluctant to even look down on the creature in the alley. “Have there been any casualties? Injuries?”
Jim falters, uncharacteristically rattled. Bruce can't blame him - there's a low level dread and an unsettling feeling just being in the same vicinity as the creature, and that's as a seasoned vigilante. Someone who faces death down regularly.
“Uh. No. No, it uh- it took some swipes at people who got too close, but it didn't connect. We backed off pretty fast and called you as soon as possible.”
Bruce blinks. “Not even any blood drawn?”
Gordon shakes his head. “Damn miracle. The thing is fast and those claws are vicious.”
He hears Cass hum into the comms, and he understands exactly why.
The thing in the alley is built to do damage. He has his doubts it was any kind of miracle that made it ‘miss’ any of the swipes it took.
Trying to scare them off indeed.
“Black Bat. What exactly are you reading off the creature?”
“Looking for exits. Desperate. Overwhelmed.”
Bruce hums. “Being cornered and desperate will make anyone or anything dangerous. We need to proceed carefully here. Even if it doesn't want to hurt anyone, that doesn't mean it won't if it thinks it has no other-”
The shadow that is Cass shifts in his periphery, and he looks up to the opposite roof just in time to bark, “Do not-!” as Cass steps off the roof and flips down into the alley.
Why are his kids so determined to give him a stroke?
Dick vaults up over the edge of the roof to join he and Tim, saying, “I'm here, what's-”
He cuts off and claps his hands over his ears with everyone else when the creature shrieks at Black Bat's unexpected arrival.
“Black Bat,” Bruce grits out, heart in his throat as he peers over the edge with ringing ears. “Retreat back to the rooftops now.”
One tap to the comm. No.
Bruce grits his teeth, fighting not to show his anxiety. It's not like Cass to refuse orders. Hell, he can't remember her ever disobeying an order in the field so blatantly.
The low warning noise the creature is making now is almost as bad as the shriek. Something about it sets off every alarm bell in his brain, like it was never meant to be heard by human ears. Almost a growl, almost a moan, something celestial and unfathomable.
Cass doesn't back up or get any closer. She raises a hand slowly in a little wave and says, “Hello.”
If it were possible to startle a fax machine, it would probably sound like the creature does as it jerks and snaps its mouth shut in surprise, lamplight eyes going huge and round.
Masterpost
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beach fight - part 3
part 1 - part 2
warnings: MDNI!! smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, fingering, car sex, dirty talk, kind of public,
disclaimer: lowk giggled while writing this 🤣
pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader
Y/N woke up early the next morning, sunlight creeping in through the curtains. She blinked, trying to remember where she was. Slowly, the events of the previous night came flooding back—sneaking off with Rafe to his house, the heat between them, his hands all over her.
Her heart raced as regret settled deep in her chest. She never meant for this to happen again. She glanced over at Rafe, still asleep beside her, looking peaceful and unaware. Quietly, she slipped out of the bed, trying not to wake him. She hurriedly gathered her clothes, slipping into her shorts and shoes, but her shirt was nowhere to be found.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, looking around the room.
Her eyes landed on one of Rafe’s oversized shirts, a faded old tee she used to steal from him back when they were together. It was her favorite, and the memories stung her as she pulled it over her head. She gave one last glance at Rafe, who was still asleep, then snuck out of his house and headed straight for the Chateau.
When she got there, the Pogues were already up, hanging out outside. Sarah, Kie, Pope, Cleo, and JJ all stared at her as she walked in, clearly curious about her disappearing act from last night.
“Where were you?” Sarah asked, eyebrow raised.
Y/N tried to play it off, shrugging. “Out.”
JJ wasn’t letting it slide that easily, though. He smirked, eyeing her shirt. “Whose shirt is that?” knowing damn well who it belonged to.
Y/N stuttered, her brain scrambling for an excuse. “I…uh, I spent the night with some cute guy, okay? Stole his shirt,” she said quickly, hoping it would shut them up.
But Sarah wasn’t convinced. She squinted at the shirt, recognition flashing in her eyes. “Isn’t that Rafe’s shirt?”
Y/N froze for a second but quickly covered it up with a laugh. “No, you’re imagining things.”
Before Sarah could press further, the conversation shifted as they decided to take their new boat out for a ride. Y/N was grateful for the distraction, needing to clear her head. The boat was a breath of fresh air, the sea breeze whipping through her hair as they sailed around. She was wearing a black bikini and sunglasses, hoping the day on the water would wash away her guilt.
Everything seemed fine—until Topper’s boat sailed up beside them. Onboard was Rafe, Sofia, and the rest of their Kook crew. Y/N’s heart raced as Rafe’s eyes immediately found hers. His gaze was intense, trailing over her body like he couldn’t help himself. She saw Sofia clinging to him, clearly aware of what had happened between them. Sofia’s glare was sharp, her hands gripping onto Rafe like she owned him.
Y/N looked away, pretending not to care, but she couldn’t help the smirk forming on her lips. She caught Rafe glancing at her again, his eyes lingering on her bikini-clad body, especially her ass. He didn’t know she could see him staring, and something about it made her feel powerful.
Meanwhile, the Pogues and Topper’s crew were arguing about something trivial, but Y/N and Rafe’s silent exchange felt louder than anything around them. When the two boats sailed in opposite directions, Y/N looked back one last time, catching Rafe’s eyes before they disappeared out of sight.
Later that day, Y/N had to head to work at a local bar in the OBX. It was just another shift until she heard a small cough behind her. She turned around, and her stomach dropped. Sofia stood there, looking smug.
“Can I help you?” Y/N asked, trying to act normal.
Sofia didn’t order anything. Instead, she got straight to the point. “I know what you did with my boyfriend last night.”
Y/N’s heart pounded, but she kept her cool. She turned around slowly, trying not to let Sofia see her stress. “Do you?” she replied casually, wiping down the counter.
Sofia stepped closer, her voice cold as ice. “Stay away from him, or you’ll regret it.”
Y/N chuckled at her empty threat. “Sure.” she said, grabbing Rafe’s shirt from behind the counter and holding it out. “Oh, but can you give this to Rafe? Tell him I had an amazing time last night. Although, I barely managed to walk this morning.”
Sofia’s face twisted with fury, her hands trembling as she snatched the shirt from Y/N. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, ready to snap, but instead, she stormed out of the bar. Y/N leaned against the counter, laughing under her breath.
ꨄ
A few hours later, while still at work, Y/N’s phone buzzed with messages from an unknown number. At first, she ignored them, but curiosity got the best of her. She opened the texts to see it was Rafe, attacking her for telling Sofia what happened blablabla
Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the messages, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction. She left him on read, refusing to engage. She had no regrets about throwing it in Sofia’s face. The rest of the night was busy, but as it neared midnight, Y/N started to close up the bar.
Just as she was about to lock the door, she heard the rumble of a truck pulling up outside. Her heart sank when she saw Rafe’s figure stepping out of the truck, heading straight toward her. Before she could react, a pair of strong hands grabbed her and yanked her back, pulling her away from the door. She struggled for a moment, but the grip was too strong.
“Rafe, what the hell?” she snapped, turning around and slapping him across the face.
He didn’t even flinch.“Why didn’t you answer my texts?”
“Because I don’t owe you anything,” she shot back, glaring at him. Why do you care? It’s not like we’re together.”
Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Why’d you leave without telling me?”
“Because i regret everything that happened last night Rafe.”
Rafe stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. “No, you don’t mean that.”
“I do,” Y/N insisted, crossing her arms. “It was a mistake.”
There was a tense silence between them before Rafe suddenly grabbed her wrist, dragging her toward his car. “Alright, let’s see if you’ll regret this.”he muttered, his voice dark as he opened the backseat door and pushed her inside.
Before Y/N could protest, Rafe climbed in after her, his hands already on her, lips brushing against her neck. His dominance sent a shiver through her, and despite her words, she found herself kissing him back. It was rough, intense, the kind of heat she couldn’t ignore.
They tore at each other’s clothes, their desire taking over. Rafe’s hands roamed over her body, pulling her closer as he whispered dirty words into her ear, his touch sending waves of pleasure through her. He kissed her hard, taking control as they lost themselves in each other, the backseat quickly becoming their own heated world.
Breaking the kiss, Rafe tore at her blouse, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons at the back. The fabric slid down her body, pooling at her waist, revealing her bare skin and a lacy black bra that barely contained her full breasts. He cupped her breasts, thumbs rubbing over her hardened nipples, making her arch into his touch.
"You regret this, huh?," he growled, his voice rough with desire.
Y/N's breath hitched at his words, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of anticipation and submission. She wanted him, craved the dominance he exuded, and was eager to surrender to his desires.
Rafe's hands moved lower, sliding beneath the lace of her panties, his fingers finding her wetness. He stroked her slick folds, circling her clit, making her gasp and squirm against him. Her juices coated his fingers, proof of her arousal and eagerness.
"So wet for me," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "Thought you made a mistake.”
Y/N could only nod, her mouth dry as her body throbbed with need. Rafe's fingers continued their torment, pushing inside her, stretching her, preparing her for what was to come.
"Please," she begged, her voice hoarse.
Rafe unzipped his jeans, freeing his thick cock. He positioned himself at her entrance, his tip nudging her wetness. With a single, powerful thrust, he impaled her, filling her in one smooth motion. Y/N cried out, her body accommodating his size as he plunged deep.
"Fuck" he grunted, his hands gripping her thighs as he began to move.
Rafe set a relentless pace, his hips snapping forward, driving into her again and again. The car rocked with the force of his thrusts, the backseat creaking in protest. Y/N's hands clawed at his back, her nails digging into his skin as she matched his rhythm, meeting each thrust with abandon.
"Harder," she panted, her voice laced with pleasure and pain.
Rafe obliged, his hands gripping her hips tightly, lifting her up to meet his downward strokes. He slammed into her. Y/N's moans filled the car, a mix of pleasure and raw need. Her body trembled, on the edge of release, as Rafe pounded into her relentlessly.
With a final, powerful thrust, Rafe buried himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing within her. Y/N clenched around him. She cried out, her back arching, her nails drawing blood from his shoulders as she came.
They stayed joined for a moment, breathing heavily, their hearts racing. Rafe's cock twitched inside her, still sensitive from his release, as he slowly withdrew.
Y/N smiled, her eyes glittering with satisfaction. "Maybe i didn’t regret it after all.” she whispered, her fingers tracing the contours of his face.
Rafe grinned, his dominance softening as he pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her. “yeah, that’s what i thought.”
After a few moments Y/N sits up, breathless, adjusting her clothes. She quickly pulls on her pants and begins fixing her hair, but Rafe watches her with a furrowed brow.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, voice still rough from their encounter. His eyes flicker to the door, clearly not wanting her to leave.
“Home,” Y/N replies, not looking at him as she buttons her shirt. Her hands are shaky, but she tries to keep it together.
“No, you’re not,” Rafe says, his tone firm, as if that was the final word on the matter. He reaches out, grabs her wrist, and pulls her back towards him.
Y/N frowns, tugging her hand away, but Rafe’s grip is strong. “Rafe, I need to go,” she insists, but he’s already pulling her out of the car and heading to the house, guiding her by the waist.
“You’re coming with me,” Rafe mutters, and she doesn’t have the energy to argue. A part of her doesn’t even want to, but her mind is racing—after everything, after the regrets, after Sofia’s confrontation at the bar, what was she still doing with him?
They sneak inside quietly, the darkness of the house wrapping around them like a blanket. Everyone is asleep, and the only sound is the faint creak of the wooden floor beneath their feet. As soon as they reach the hallway, Rafe’s lips are on hers again, like he can’t get enough. Y/N kisses him back, letting herself get lost in it, her mind spinning. She’s supposed to be mad at him, supposed to be done with this, but there’s something about him she can’t resist.
Their hands fumble with each other as they make their way to his room, tripping over themselves, barely breaking the kiss. Rafe’s hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer as they stumble, giggling softly, trying to stay quiet.
Just as they reach his room, Rafe pushes the door open without looking. They fall through, still kissing, his hands exploring her body like he’s starved for her. Y/N lets out a soft sigh against his lips, but then they both freeze. Something’s off.
The light. It’s on.
Their eyes fly open at the same time, lips parting as they realize they’re not alone. Sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at them with wide, furious eyes, is Sofia.
part 4 here
taglist:
@thepopcultureaddict @esquivelbianca @carolina6677 @lovrsin @alayaaaahhhhhh @rrosiitas @izurelia
#drew starkey#rafe cameron#drew starkey fic#rafe outer banks#drew starkey smut#rafe cameron smut#outer banks#obx#drew starkey x reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x y/n
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⁝ KATSUKI BAKUGOU !
description: after the unwarranted blowup from katsuki, tou go to his dorm and demand he explain.
content warning: part two; profanity; frustrated katsuki; late at night; getting together; 2.2K words; based on chappelle roans “casual”
You don’t understand why Katsuki freaked out four days ago. You don’t know why he’s been avoiding you and leaving you on delivered since then, either. What you do know, is that it’s 11 o’clock PM and the dorms are very quiet at night.
Your feet hit the ground with a quiet thunk with every step you take as you make your way to Katsuki’s dorm. You know he’s probably not awake, but you need to talk to him about what he said.
After a few minutes of tiptoeing, you arrive at the front door of Katsuki’s dorm room.
Taking a deep breath, you raise your fist to knock on the door. You hesitate before you do, unsure if he’ll even answer.
Your mind races with what he’ll say, but you ultimately decide that it’s now or never and knock three times on his door.
There’s silence for a moment, only interrupted by the sound of your heart pounding in your chest. Then, you hear rustling behind the door before it swings open.
Katsuki stands before you, his hair messy and eyes heavy with exhaustion.
You stare at him with slightly widened eyes. This image of him— eyes full of sleep, hair sticking every which way— it makes you want to cry. Suddenly, you feel tears prick at the back of your eyes.
You’ve seen him this soft plenty of times. You’ve seen the way he stares at you, the way he smiles at you when he thinks you’re not looking. But this? This makes you think of what it would be like to wake up with him every morning, or what it would be like to kiss his signature shit-eating smile off his stupid face.
And it breaks your heart even more.
Katsuki stares at you blankly, his brain taking a moment to catch up with you being in front of him.
He knows he won’t be able to resist you if you break down in tears, but he also knows he deserves it. He broke your heart.
“Why won’t you talk to me?” you spit out, the words almost involuntary as they leave your mouth. “I- I mean, you freak out on me last week, and then- and then you ghost me and avoid me in the halls. So just- tell me what I did wrong? Tell me so I can get over it.”
Katsuki’s heart clenches in his chest. He opens his mouth to respond, but he can’t say anything.
He can’t tell you what you did wrong because you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s the opposite, actually, but he was too scared to admit it because he didn’t want to take the risk.
But now, you’re standing here in front of him, eyes glossy, and he can’t bear to see you like this.
“Come here.” His words are soft, barely above a whisper, as he grabs your arm gently, and pulls you into his dorm.
He closes the door behind you, before sitting down on the edge of his bed, running a hand over his face.
He pats the spot next to him, gesturing for you to sit next to him, but he doesn’t look up to meet your gaze. He leans forward and buries his head in his hands, exhaling heavily.
“Katsuki, please,” you beg, sitting down. You’re not too close to him, but close enough where you can feel his body heat. “Please. Just tell me what I did wrong. Tell me what happened, and I can get over it and leave you alone.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, damn it,” Katsuki snaps, his head whipping up to look at you. “You didn’t do anything wrong and that’s what makes you so damn frustrating. You were just too good. You make my chest hurt and I can’t sleep or eat and I can’t-“ His voice falters and he cuts himself off.
His chest feels tight and his palms are sweating. This is not how he wanted this to go. He was just supposed to push you away until you forgot about everything and he didn’t have to deal with it anymore, but here he is. Exhausted and vulnerable and so damn stupid.
“I hate feeling like this,” he continues, clenching his jaw. “I hate not being able to fall asleep because I think about you too much, or I have dreams about you and wake up at three in the damn morning- it’s like I’m going insane.”
You exhale slowly. What else are you supposed to do in this situation? You wait for him to continue.
His shoulders slump and he runs a hand through his hair.
“It’s so damn stupid,” he mutters under his breath. “I just want to be able to go to class and train without thinking about you. I want to be able to go sleep and not hear your goddamn voice in my head telling me to relax. Hell… I want to be able to eat a stupid meal without thinking of how much you’d laugh if you knew about my recent eating habits. And the other night-“ His voice cracks and he looks away.
“The other night?” you repeat, leaning closer.
Katsuki is fully aware of your close proximity, but ignores it. You both being this close is so frustrating and distracting, but he needs to try to keep what little of his sanity is left. You press him again, and he lets out an exhausted sigh.
“The other night…I was too overwhelmed by everything. It was like the dam finally broke and I couldn’t handle my thoughts anymore.”
You nod silently. There’s a moment where the room is quiet, save for your shaky breaths. “So,” you start, swallowing hard. “You freaked out on me… because you think about me too much? And I’m ‘too good’? Too good for what? For you? Katsuki, that’s-“
“Damn it, I know how stupid it sounds, but it’s true and that’s why I was avoiding you.”
Katsuki grips the bedsheets in clenched and sweaty fists. He hates talking about this; it makes him feel weak and vulnerable. He doesn’t look at you, and you can tell he’s having a difficult time even getting the words out.
“When I think of you- and when I’m with you, I don’t know what the hell to say or do or think. You mess everything up.”
You blink a couple times at that. “I’m sorry,” you mutter, scooting away from him again. “I- I don’t mean to.”
“No, no,” Katsuki’s hands twitch and he has to remind himself not to reach out for you. “Stop that.”
He finally turns and looks at you. You’re so close right now and it’s making him feel insane. Your expressions are so easy to read, and right now, he can see how sad and defeated you are and it sucks. He lets out a deep exhale and sits up straighter, but he still doesn’t look away from you.
“I’m not blaming you for anything. You can’t control what I feel,” he says as he scrubs a hand down his face again, the exhaustion more apparent now. “It’s just so hard, being around you. It feels like I can’t even function normally anymore.”
You open your mouth to speak, but Katsuki just shakes his head.
“Wait- just- let me get this out,” he says, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “This is already embarrassing enough, so just- just don’t interrupt me yet.”
He takes another breath, and prepares himself to be vulnerable, which is never something he does.
“You’re the only person that can make me smile. Like, a true goddamn smile. Not the ones where I smirk or scoff. One that makes my whole face light up and my chest feel lighter.
You’re the only person I know I can actually count on, and the only person I want to see first thing in the morning…and you’re the only person I hate, but need around at the same damn time.
You piss me off and make me lose my goddamn mind, and you’re so loud and obnoxious and you’re always right. You’re smart, and talented, and a good person, but you’re so reckless, and you don’t know how to watch out for yourself. You do whatever the hell you want, whenever you damn well please, and I can’t-”
Katsuki grits his teeth. His palms are tingling and he’s gripping the sheets so tightly, he’s scared he might blow them up again.
“I’m frustrated because I can’t make these feelings go away. They just get stronger every second I speak to you or- or look at you. And it’s driving me crazy, and I hate this.”
His breaths are slightly shaky because his heart feels like it’s about to implode from how much he’s sharing. He doesn’t do feelings like this. Feelings and relationships are soft, and right now, he hates how vulnerable he feels.
“That’s love,” you whisper, eyes widened slightly. “I- that’s what love feels like, you fucking dipshit!” you furrow your brows and punch his arm. “You ghosted me because you’re in love with me?! What the fuck is wrong with you!”
“Ow, hey-!” Katsuki snaps, rubbing the spot where you punched him. “Don’t get mad at me! You’re the one that turned me into this weak, goddamn-“
He cuts himself off and glares at you. His jaw is set and he looks pissed, but behind those angry red eyes, he’s flustered.
You’re right, he thinks to himself. You always are.
“It’s your fault, you shitty, idiot!” he snaps at you, his cheeks turning pink.
He wants to shove you, or hit you, or yell at you, but he just can’t because he suddenly feels weak. Your big, dumb, beautiful eyes are staring into his, and he wants to kiss you like- really wants to.
“It’s you’re fault things have been goddamn upside down and you’re just sitting here saying ‘That’s love, idiot’ like-like it’s easy. I’m supposed to be the logical one here! It’s you that never thinks before you act.”
“Rude!” you exclaim, a small smile on your face. “*I’m* not the one who ghosted the girl they’re in love with!”
Katsuki rolls his eyes, but his shoulders slump just slightly at your smile. “You’re not mad,” he states.
“Of course I am!” you exclaim, but you’re not fooling him, because your eyes aren’t sad or hurt. In fact, you’re giggling now.
“Stop that,” he growls, reaching out to push your shoulder weakly. “Not even two minutes ago you were staring at me like a lost goddamn puppy, and now you’re laughing? Make up your damn mind, idiot.”
“What?” You grin, shrugging his hand off you. “You’re cute when you get embarrassed. The all-mighty Bakugou Katsuki, reduced to a lovey-dovey school boy confessing his feelings, because he’s so in love with me.”
He glares at you, red eyes narrowing as you tease him. “You’re the one that makes me act like this,” he snaps, his palms twitching. “Before I met you, I was fine. I was logical and I was focused.”
“Then you showed up with your stupid, pretty face and bright laugh, and you drive me insane.”
You go quiet at that, a smile spreading across your face. You blink at him, eyes scanning his face. The freckles on his nose, the scar on his eyebrow.
He watches your face go from playful and mocking to something softer as you study his features.
The exhaustion is still heavy in his eyes, and the bags under them are darker than usual. His hair is tousled and messy, and to most people, he looks kind of insane right now.
But you keep looking at him with that smile, like the way he is right now is the best thing you’ve ever seen.
“I wish you would have just… told me,” you whisper, frowning a bit. “It would have been much easier on my feelings.”
Katsuki’s face softens and he finally averts his gaze.
“I’m just-“ he struggles to find the words. “I’m not good at this stuff, okay? I didn’t know what the hell to say or how to act, and I kept thinking about what you’d say or think and it just made me more anxious. And… I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
“Get your hopes up?” you echo, tilting your head. “What does that mean?”
“It means what it means,” Katsuki retorts, his face heating up. “I didn’t know how you’d react, or if you’d feel the same as me, or how-“
He cuts himself off and groans in frustration. “You see what I mean! I can’t even put two sentences together because I’m too damn nervous.”
You let out a small giggle.
The sound of your laugh makes his face even hotter, but it’s also slightly relieving and slightly annoying. “You’re enjoying me being in agony, aren’t you?” he grumbles.
“Oh, shut up.” you roll your eyes. “Listen- now it’s all out there. You love me,” you tease, smiling. “And… I love you. So. It’s out there. Do you… Jesus. Do you want to like, be a couple?“
Katsuki’s breath catches in his throat at your words.
A couple. It sounds so surreal. He’s dreamed about it, over and over, but having you actually say it is like a whole different level of relief- and anxiety.
His thoughts are suddenly running a mile a minute. Would be enough for you? Would he be a shitty boyfriend and mess things up? Would you even- “Yes,” he suddenly blurts out. “Yeah.”
tags: @xxxccp | @aj1j | @lemon-lav | @strayruway | @tr-mha-fan | @ba9go | @thekidscallmebosss | @aphroditis-world | @itawifeyy | @coolgirl458 | @peyingbills | @spiderlily-w1tch-blog
#bnha#mha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bakugou katsuki#bakugou katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugou#katsuki bakugou x reader#izufeels#pov you take charge#b#part two#bakugou x reader#bakugou
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Logan, who rolls his eyes at Wade's constant moving and squirming in their bed. Logan, who grumbles at him to shut up during the night when they are both trying to sleep because Wade won't stop rambling nonsense. Logan, who growls and shakes him off whenever they accidently end up intertwined in their sleep.
Except then Wade ends up on a merc job that runs through the night and Logan can't fucking sleep.
At first, he isn't sure what the problem is. He did his usual routine, set up the pull out and climbed under the covers, looking forward to a night with the bed to himself.
He then proceeds to toss and turn for hours. His brain won't shut off enough for him to fall asleep, and he can't get fucking comfortable. It's driving him insane, and he lies there for hours, utterly frustrated because he is tired. He's exhausted, actually, and yet he can't fall asleep and the why of it all doesn't hit him till about 3am.
The bed isn't creaking softly under Wade's constantly bouncing leg and shifting positions. There's no running commentary that quietens his own thoughts enough to let him drift off. There's nothing warm and solid that smells like Wade to wrap himself around during the night when his body is craving touch the most.
He gives up with a growl, flicking on the TV and relenting to the fact he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. His brain won't shut the fuck up repeating Wade's name like a damn mantra, and his body is practically vibrating with anxiety over the fact the merc wasn't next to him right now where he was supposed to be.
(Ridiculous and possessive, he scolds himself. Wade is his own damn person, and he has more important stuff to do that be Logan's emotional support teddy bear. Not to mention he's over two hundred fucking years old, and shouldn't need an emotional support teddy bear.)
Wades gets back at six in the morning. Logan can smell the thick scent of his blood before he actually sees him, and he's already up and at the door as Wade enters silently.
He almost jumps out of his skin when he sees Logan standing there waiting for him.
"Fuck, peanut! Warn a guy next time! I thought you'd still be sleeping," Wade says, pulling his mask off, clutching his chest dramatically.
Now that Wade's here, standing in front of him after Logan spent the last eight hours craving his prescence to a nauseating degree, he doesn't know what to say. Doesn't want to freak Wade out with his own stupid attachment, settles on a "you okay?"
His voice cracks, and Wade looks instantly worried, taking a step into his space.
"I think I should be asking you that," he frowns, and Logan shrugs, tries to keep his tone light and casual as he replies, "couldn't sleep."
It comes out the opposite of light and casual. The heaviness of the emotion there is embarrassing and obvious, and Wade clicks on without any further clarification.
Logan cringes, waiting for the jokes. Waiting for Wade to gloat about making it so he can't sleep without him, and the thing is Logan would take it all on the chin. Would accept every condescending word if it meant that Wade would just come to bed with him.
Except Wade's face goes soft instead, and he's tugging off his blood stained gloves and lifting both hands to cup Logan's face. His expression is... fond, and Logan wants to tell him he doesn't deserve it, but instead he just kind of melts into the touch. Into Wade's warmth. His smell. It's intoxicating, and a better distraction than any bottle Logan had ever found himself at the bottom of.
"I... come to bed, please? I'm so tired," Logan mumbles, and Wade smiles.
"There's no where else I'd rather be, sweetheart. Let me shower off the blood and I'm all yours."
Logan's anxiety spikes a little despite himself, and he's scanning over Wade with concern, "are you definitely alright?"
"Immortal, remember? I'm completely fine peanut, but if you want to join me in the shower to examine me yourself I'm not complaining," he wags his non-existent eyebrows, and Logan snorts.
"That shower would never fit the two of us."
"Is that a challenge?"
And he isn't sure why, but the warm familiarity of their back and forth sends him into a fresh wave of emotion again, and he finds himself pulling Wade in for a hug before he could chastise himself for even wanting it.
Wade hugs him back tight, running a hand over his back, "so no more overnight jobs?"
Logan grumbles his disapproval, and Wade chuckles in his hold.
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KINDLY, DARLIN' - 𝐸.𝑊
summary. after seemingly endless days on the road, you find yourself at a random country bar in the middle of nowhere. entering with the sole goal of getting your hands on come kind of alcohol, your attention is soon drawn elsewhere. to a girl and her guitar. notes. ok funny story! this idea came to me from a 5 sec interaction i had with a complete stranger. i went out to a bar, gave ten bucks to the singer, & he said the line that the title is based off of , which the prompted my brain to conjure up an entire love story (he's prob double my age lets be so fr) Also! idk if any of u will like this comparison (if not, just ignore this). but, as i wrote this, i imagined ellie's voice like lucy gray's from the hunger game's. like the slight country drawl, strong vocals, yes yes yes yes Also x2! anyone who follows me should know that im absolute SHITTT at writing smut. but, for some reason, that doesn't seem to stop me from creating works of garbage for my own amusement. anyway, if you reach the smut & realize that it's literal trash, i won't blame u for clicking off of this. just a warning! warnings. brief mention of creepy old men at the bar, depictions of alcohol, public flirting ???, eventual smut, drunk sex in a bathroom LMAO, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r!receiving) wc. 5.1k
𝓕uck your back hurts. Well, if you're being honest, everything hurts. Your neck, back, stomach, legs, hands. Everything that's capable of aching, does.
However, rather unfortunately, you suppose that's to be expected after driving for nigh two days straight in your shitty truck. It's a 90s pickup, the white paint peeling and the tires in desperate need of care. The beige seats are worn and stained, evidence of age having taken its toll on your poor vehicle.
In spite of your truck's needs, you're far more interested in your own ⎯ getting a damn drink.
You're currently coasting through the backroads of some small western town, streets made of dirt and buildings all decrepit. You've never heard of this place before, the name having already slipped your mind due to how utterly foreign it'd been to your mind.
Your headlights cast a yellow glow onto the dirt before you, your tires crunching against fallen leaves and loose rocks. You pass gas stations, wooden homes, dollar stores, an immeasurable amount of churches, and no liquor store. Most shop signs are staked into the dirt, the few billboards all dilapidated in some way ⎯ broken letters, flickering lights, or completely torn from the ground somehow.
Then, by either the grace of God or a wondrous turn of fate, your eyes stutter on a certain sign. A broken wooden one advertising a bar. Your interest is instantly piqued, wheel turning toward the building without hesitation.
You don't give yourself the chance to even think before you're hopping out of your truck and walking into the bar.
The moment you push open the wooden double doors, the sound of boisterous laughter and heavy cowboy boots meet your ears. Perfect.
You stand in place for a moment, craning your neck with narrowed eyes are you examine the atmosphere. To the left, there's a bar with almost every stool occupied by an overweight old man. To the right, there's a pair of barn doors with the word 'restrooms' carved into the wood. In the center of the space, there's bucking machine ⎯ a drunk teenage boy holding on for dear life while his group of friends cackle at him from the sidelines.
Then, on the side of the building opposite you, there's a small stage. It's only elevated a foot or so, wood rotting a bit on the edges. But you hardly care for the conditions of the stage itself. What you find yourself drawn to is the person on it.
In the center is a stool, an auburn haired woman perched atop it with an old guitar situated on her lap. She strums the instrument in an upbeat tempo, leaned forward slightly as she sings into the microphone before her. There's a small crowd in front of the stage, girls admiring and boys whistling.
Considering how run-down this town is, you hadn't expected to stumble across a bar that's so fucking packed. There's barely any open stools at the bar, the bathroom doors are rarely sitting still as people continue to pass through them, the mechanical bull being gifted coins non-stop. But you can't complain.
After so long alone on the road, it's nice to be in such an active atmosphere. It's not calming, of course, but you welcome it lovingly nonetheless.
Watching the auburn for a few moments longer, you then turn on your heel and saunter over to the bar. You're forced to sit beside someone as the lack of stools forbids you from not having a neighbor.
"What can I get'cha, hon'?" The bartender asks you with a tip of his cowboy hat. In his other hand, he wipes the outside of an octagonal glass cup.
"Got any whiskey?" You inquire, leaning your elbows on the sticky countertop.
"Mhm," He hums, turning around to grab a bottle from the shelves behind the bar. He sets the glass onto the counter with a light clink, popping the bottle open. "'N' how would ya like it?"
"Neat."
He nods once more, pouring the liquid into the glass with a flourish before sliding it across the wood toward you. The moment you grab it, he's turning away to tend to another patron. You drink it quickly, downing the glass in one large swig.
As you place the glass back onto the counter, you feel eyes boring into you. Hoping it's someone of interest to you, you turn only to find a duo of old men chuckling at you. Their cheeks are rosy, bellies full ⎯ therefore likely drunk. You roll your eyes as the bartender refills your glass without a word.
Now with an entirely new bit of determination, you down that glass even faster. Another refill. Another singular gulp. Another refill. Another gulp. Another. Another. Another.
You're now swaying a bit atop your stool, feeling pretty good all things considered. The men continue to gossip among themselves, pointing at your ass. You feel disgusted ⎯ not at yourself, but at them for their fucking audacity. Part of you wants to knock their teeth out. But you're not that drunk.
So, instead, you take the mature approach and simply pick up your glass and exit the scene. As you walk away, you hear their chuckles increase and you suddenly regret not punching them.
Your heavy boots thud against the wooden flooring as you walk aimlessly around the bar. You push through an amass of bodies, everyone too drunk to care for your harsh shoving. Then, before you know it, you find yourself situated in the very front of the stage, glass of whiskey in hand.
The woman's voice is laced with a slight country drawl, her boot tapping against the leg of her stool to count the beats of the song. She nods her head as she sings, a small grin lighting her features.
The dim lighting of the bar doesn't do her justice. But you still manage to notice the freckles that dot her face, the cupids bow to her upper lip, the small scar on her right eyebrow. Or maybe you're just drunk and enamored by her. God, what if she finds you creepy? What if she thinks you're some fucking creep? What if she⎯
She looks at you and you swear your heart gives out right then and there. And, if that weren't enough, she winks. You feel your cheeks heat up and you blame it on the alcohol. You down the rest of your whiskey, suddenly feeling very hot. A light chuckle shakes her chest, ringing throughout the space. Nobody else thinks anything of it, of course, all too drunk and preoccupied to give a shit. But you find yourself fantasizing about all the other ways you could make this woman laugh like that again. Oh fuck you are a creep.
In a desperate attempt to salvage the residual bits of dignity you have left, you pull twenty bucks from your back pocket and step forward to drop it into her open guitar case.
She raises a brow, tipping her cowgirl hat in your direction with a smirk. "Thank ya kindly, darlin'."
Somehow, she'd managed to thank you in tune with the song, keeping the beat going without missing a second. It's almost impressive. Okay, it's super impressive. In fact, you feel your heart speeding up again, mind playing on loop the sound of her addressing you. Her country drawl, her smirk, her long fingers grabbing the bridge of her hat. Fuck.
Impulsively, you end up turning on your heel and heading right back to that damn bar. The bartender just grins as he pours you another serving, likely having noticed the flush to your cheeks and the desperation of which you placed the glass down.
"Mind if I give y' some advice?" He asks, leaning forward a bit.
In an act of self pity, you don't have the energy to deny him. "Why the hell not?"
"I ain't gotta clue who you're blushin' over, but my advice is that." He nods toward something behind you. You cast a glance over your shoulder, eyes landing on the bucking machine. You almost laugh, turning back to him with an unimpressed expression. "Listen, y' ain't gotta be good. Y' jus' gotta move your hips right n' I swear he's all yours. Trust me. I've seen it work hundreds of times."
You don't dare to correct him on the gender of your current infatuation, instead deciding to take a few more drinks for a bit of liquid courage. I mean, seriously. How else will you get this woman's attention? Plus, what do you have to lose? You'll never see her again after tonight. The least you could do is try.
After another few drinks, you're staggering over to the mechanical bull with a few coins clutched tight in the palm of your hand. The wait for the stupid thing is way longer than necessary, everyone competing for the longest time lasted on the machine.
You lean your empty hand on the frame of the wooden fence that encircles the rider, watching with reddened eyes as yet another person is flung onto the ground with a heavy thud. He rubs his head with a groan, though his sounds of pain quickly fade into laughter as he brushes off his jeans and stands upright, returning to his boisterous friends with a crooked grin.
Unease begins to lick up your spine, the logical part of your brain wondering why the fuck you're doing this for some country chick you don't even know the name of. You're strong, sure, but your luck would lead you to breaking your neck.
You look over your shoulder casting a glance in the direction of the bar. The bartender gives you two thumbs up, flashing you a grin with missing teeth. As encouraging as that is, what really pushes you to continue is seeing those two old men. They're sitting side-by-side, lustrous smirks on their face as they stare at you, leaning over every few seconds to mutter something in the other's ear. Yeah. Fuck them. You're doing this.
As you make it to the front of the line, you're overcome with naught but confidence. Whether that be due to the sound of the woman's singing growing nearer or the sight of the gross old men, you don't know. Though, honestly, it's likely because of the sheer amount of whiskey you've downed in the past hour.
"Coins." The blonde woman demands, palm of her hand facing you like a bill you've been avoiding. You place the coins into her hand and she opens the gate, hinges squealing as the prior rider stumbles out with a streak of dirt under her eye.
You walk into the ring, feet staggering a bit already from your drunkenness. You hoist yourself onto the bull, situating yourself until you feel a bit less awkward atop the back of the metal animal.
It begins rocking slowly back and forth. You find it easy at first, not really needing to use your hands. You still do, though, not much trusting the machine to not throw you off the moment you let your guard down. It picks up the speed, more. More. More. More. And, before you know it, it's thrashing back and forth. You hold onto the saddle, a dazed smile spreading across your face as you find yourself having fun.
It spins in a circle, your eyes suddenly catching on the woman on stage. She has the perfect view of you from her pedestal, her stool bringing her higher than the crowd just as the bull brings you.
She's still singing into the mic, her voice drowned out by the sound of chatter and cheers ⎯ though you're not sure if they're directed toward you or her at this point.
You've stayed on longer than you anticipated, the ache in your back returning as the bull yanks and dives under you. But you hold on, suddenly remembering the bartender's advice. You don't want to switch up whatever tactic you accidentally built into habit, but the point of this is to get the woman's attention.
So you wait until it spins back around. Then, while her eyes are pinned to yours, you shift a bit, back moving more fluidly as you roll your hips against it. Nobody else would think anything of it, the act so subtle that you simply appear to have altered your position. But she noticed. You know she did. Because her voice caught in her throat, causing her to have to take a sip from her water and apologize into the mic before resuming.
Your confidence spikes at this, suddenly feeling much more egoistical than you did when she was a complete stranger you made eye contact with once. Now you know you have an effect on her.
So you do it again, maintaining eye contact as you roll your hips against the bull suggestively.
Just as before, nobody else pays any mind, far too focused on the fact that you're stayed on for so long to give a fuck about technique. Honestly, if anyone were to notice, it'd be those creepy old men. And, hopefully, they're aware that it's pointed at this woman and now them. Though you doubt they'd care. Creeps like them rarely do.
The singer, with her eyes now pinned to you ⎯ though, everyone's now are ⎯ switches her tone a bit. Her song alters from an upbeat bar tempo with little meaning to having more directed lyrics to a girl with mesmerizing eyes. Again, nobody else picks up on this. She sings about a random girl with stunning eyes, never digressing past that.
But you know; and she knows. And that's all that matters.
She sings a certain line, something more lustful about the way you look at her. Something suggestive about the way she's imagining you. You instantly falter, your grip slipping.
You fall to the ground with a thud, the entire bar making a sound of disappointment and empathy. You don't care, though, not giving a single damn about the bull riding. All you care for is that fucking singer.
You hit the ground, breath knocked from your lungs. You cough, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. Your head spins, the alcohol finally catching up to you. Another cough is yanked from your heaving chest as you groan.
The blonde coin-collecting woman allows the next person into the ring, not waiting for you to give your say. As the next man enters, he offers you his hand. You, desperate for assistance, take it with a grateful smile. He hauls you to your feet, muttering quick compliments on your performance on the bull. You thank him before brushing past him and exiting the ring with staggering steps.
A few people from the crowd compliment you, offering words of encouragement for the 'next time you go up'. You give them half-hearted smiles, chest still aching slightly from your fall.
You shove through the crowd, nearing the restrooms you'd seen at the entrance. You push the doors open and head into the women's side.
You brace your hands on the edge of the sink, glancing in the mirror for a brief moment ⎯ examining the small cut on your cheekbone and the bruises that are beginning to form on your shoulder and hip. You then lean down, positioning your mouth under the faucet before turning on the water. You drink it, relishing in the taste of cool liquid rather than burning alcohol.
"Mm, look who it is."
You smack your head on the faucet with how quickly you straighten. You groan, rubbing your temple as you turn to face the person standing behind you. The singer. Well fuck, that makes the head smack twenty times more embarrassing.
Somehow, she's even more alluring up close. Her pale green eyes bore into you, lashes lidding them slightly. Her skin is lightly tanned, freckles likely produced from a life spent under the sun. Her forearm has a tattoo covering the rippled skin there, lean muscles adorning the rest of said arm.
You play off your staring by narrowing your eyes at her, "Followin' me, are ya?"
"Nah." She shakes her head, stepping forward to wash her hands in the sink beside yours. She tips her head down, looking at her hands as she scrubs, hat coming to block her face from your view. Unfortunate. "Jus' comin' t' wash the filth off my hands. I wouldn't worry, though, darlin', I'm sure that Smilton boy'll check up on ya."
Your brows furrow at this. "Smillin boy?"
"Smilton." She corrects you rather harshly, looking up to meet your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. "Farmer's boy. Rich. Brunette. Helped y' up after the bull."
Realization hits you like a brick. She's jealous. This woman that you've never met, this woman that you stressed over impressing, this woman that you bruised yourself to get the attention of. She's jealous because some farmer's boy helped you stand up. A smirk tugs at your lips, an idea lighting your mind.
"Hmm," You hum lowly, brushing past her to dry your hands on one of the scratchy white towelettes. "He is quite handsome, ain't he?"
"Suppose." She replies shortly.
Your smirk only deepens, drying your hands achingly slow. Because you know she's aware that she has no right to be jealous. And that only serves to make her more pissed off. How interesting.
"What's his first name, if y' don't mind me askin'?" You speak casually, talking with her as though everything that passed between you two prior to this hadn't happened at all. It's driving her insane and you can tell.
"I dunno." She says, turning the faucet off to dry her hands beside you. "Somethin' with a J?"
"Oh, c'mon," you coo, turning to her with those eyes you know she adores. "I know y' know more than jus' his last name."
She looks away, clearing her throat with a set jaw, "you're right. Know his first initial too. It's a J."
You chuckle lightly, releasing the towelette to trace your fingertips along the soft skin of her bicep. "Yeah? And what's your first initial?"
Her entire body seems to tense, breath hitching in reaction to your touch. She looks at you from under the bridge of her hat, green eyes glinting with something informal. Something unfit for a casual conversation between two strangers in the women's rest room. You feel your heart stutter at the sight, having to make an effort not to fall to your knees before her in this very moment.
"E," is all she whispers.
"Last name?" You whisper back, matching her for quietude.
"Williams." She manages.
You hum, eyes following the movements of your hand. Had you not been so drunk, you'd likely never have the balls to be so flirty to her. But, as it turns out, your intoxication is good for something. Well, something aside from staying on some metal bull.
"How pretty," you whisper, leaning forward so your mouth is now right beside her ear. Your breath fans across her skin as you continue. "Now tell me your full name, will ya?"
Her eyes are pinned to your face, pupils tracing your features as your hand traces her arm. She finds herself mesmerized by you, entranced by your every detail ⎯ the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the height of your cheekbones, the line of your jaw. She imagines running her tongue along each of these points, imagines committing your to memory using naught but her mouth.
"Ellie." She replies finally, watching closely as your eyes raise to meet hers. Her heart stutters in her chest at that, as it always does when you make eye contact.
Your gaze flicks between her eyes and lips, hand slowly inching up her arm. "Ellie?"
The sound of her name rolling off your tongue is enough to send a spark of heat to her core. That paired with the way your fingers are lightly tracing up, up, up. You move your hand over her shoulder, along her collarbone, up the side of her neck, and finally rests to cup her cheek in your palm. She leans into the touch, eyes fluttering.
"You're such a fuckin' tease," she mutters, voice low as it's weighed down by desire and a deep need to feel your skin on hers.
You ignore her words and move to lean in close enough that your noses brush. Then, with your breath fanning across her skin, you ask, "this okay?"
She doesn't say anything, instead abandoning the towelette completely and grabbing your face in both her hands. With a sudden sense of ferocity, she presses her lips to yours, pulling your body flush against hers.
"I'll take that as a yes," you chuckle between kisses.
"Quiet," she murmurs, too needy for your touch to have time for conversation. As much as she loves hearing you talk, shed much rather talk via action rather than actual words.
You giggle against her lips, your arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She hums, hat falling to the tiled floor with a light brush. With each passing second, her actions become more and more desirous, suddenly pushing your back against the nearest wall. You let out a huff of air from the impact, your lips quirking up to form a small smile, regaled by Ellie's sudden desperation for you.
She tilts her head, peppering kisses down your chin and along your jaw. They're harsh and hungry, nipping your skin in some places purely to see your brow furrow at the feel of her teeth.
As she trails down to your neck, you tip your head back against the wall and open your eyes to blink up at the wooden ceiling. Your hands fist Ellie's hair as she leaves bruises down the column of your throat.
Still well and drunk, the room swirls around you. The lights seem to shift with each blink, making this all so much more intoxicating. Your nerves are already on edge due to the alcohol, so the feel of Ellie kissing them is absolutely maddening.
You feel as she presses kisses along your collarbone, tongue grazing the taut skin there. You shift, legs pressing together as she grows more sensual in her act of quick intimacy. This movement doesn't go unnoticed by her, however, her lips quirking into a small smile against your skin as she feels rather proud of how quick she's turned you to putty under her.
She moves across the bare skin of your chest, plump lips taking time to memorize each detail that adorns you. You move again, the heat between your legs growing harder to ignore.
"Patience, darlin'." She instructs. "I'll get there when I get there."
You frown at this, "well get there faster."
Her kisses suddenly cease, looking up at you through her lashes. She tilts her head at you innocently, blinking as she waits for you to correct yourself. To reword your restive demand. "Don't be rude, now."
You can feel your dignity push at the back of your throat, pride yearning for a moment to speak. Seeing as you're normally the one making orders, this feels quite stranger. But, after the long journey you've taken, you suppose you've earned a bit of time to sit back and let someone else take the lead.
Ellie draws a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, kneeling before you as her head comes to situate itself in front of your waistband. You can't help but admire how she looks from here, hair in your hands as her eyes are pinned to your denim jeans as though it's a buffet and she's a man starved. After a moment, she lifts her head to look at you.
Eye contact. Sparks shoot through your body. Somehow, something as simplistic as meeting Ellie's gaze can make you feel indescribably nervous. Pale green irises bore into you, waiting for you to utter words of consent. You do so, giving her the go-ahead.
As soon as you do, Ellie wastes no time hooking her fingers through your belt loops and pulling your jeans to your knees. She leans forward, eyes lidded.
"Wait." You pant, tugging on her hair to halt her movements. She seems rather annoyed by your sudden interruption, but looks up at you kindly despite her own irritation. You rolls your eyes at her evident pique. "What if someone walks in?"
She sighs heavily at that. "I locked the door."
"Oh, okay." You nod. Though, just as she's about to lean forward again, you stop her once more. "Wait. How did you know to lock it? You were all pissy when you first came in here."
"I didn't know." She explains hastily. "I simply hoped."
You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head fondly at her admittance. Then, finally, you don't stop her when she leans forward.
She traces her tongue along the outside of your underwear, the fabric between you only adding to the pulsing in your pussy. A shiver wracks through you, causing Ellie to grab you by the hips to hold you still. She traces circles into your hips with her thumbs, a gentle motion when compared to the needy movements of her tongue as she draws small circles into your clit.
You tighten your grip on her hair, drawing a grunt from the back of her throat. The vibrations from her mouth against your pussy makes it hard to keep back your own noises.
When she finally shifts your panties to the side, you nearly collapse at the feel of her mouth against you. She licks a long stripe up your vulva, a shaky breath yanking from you. The sound only urges her further, taking one hand and drags her middle finger up your center. You shift, leaning heavily against the wooden walls as standing upright suddenly seems impossible. Then, without warning, two fingers shove right into your hole.
Your hips jolt, moving far more than initially seeing as Ellie is now only holding on with one hand. Whilst thrusting her fingers in and out of your needy pussy, her tongue circles your clit with that same neediness, mirroring you for desperation.
Your head falls back, thudding lightly against then wall. At the sound, Ellie ceases. You almost whine at her sudden stopping.
"My eyes are down here, darlin'." She says lowly. "Let me see you."
Begrudgingly, you oblige, lowering your head to make eye contact with Ellie. She's on her knees, legs folded against tiled flooring as she resumes her lapping. You huff out an airy moan as you have to actively stop yourself from tipping your head back again. She holds your gaze the entire time, adding to the intensity of the feel. Her eyes are lidded, shoulder moving as her fingers recommence.
This all paired with your dizzy head and swimming vision makes for quite the climax, core knotting progressively as Ellie doesn't dare to stop. "Fuck," you pant as you buck your hips against her face, forced to watch as you do so. With another heavy breath and an arching back, you utter, "I'm⎯"
She seems exponentially proud as she hears you say this, regardless of if you finish your sentence or not. She pauses only for a moment to say, "yeah?"
"Mhm," you hum, though it comes out more of a moan than anything.
"Do it, darlin'."
And you do, coming undone right atop her face. She, admittedly, relishes in it, hydrated only by what you're able to provide her with. You see stars and they're swimming too, circling your head in a celestial body of pleasure. And Ellie watches, for once allowing your head to fall back as she deems this a one time exception. Because there will be a next time.
You're panting as you lower your head to face her once more, her gaze never having left your expression. She makes out with your pussy sensually as to bring you down from your high. Then, as gently as she can, she situates your panties back on correctly and pulls your jeans to rest as your hips, remaining knelt in front of you as she zips and buttons them just as she'd found them.
You watch with a twinkle of fondness behind your irises, unable to look away from the expression of adoring concentration she wears. She then uses your hips as a support system to haul herself back to her feet, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. You can nigh taste yourself on her.
"Not bad for a stranger at a sketchy bar." You muse, picking her hat from the floor and situating it atop her auburn tufts of hair. She watches you, analyzing your every move.
"I'm not just a stranger." She reminds you as your eyes find hers, your hands coming to drape around her shoulders. "I'm a stranger who wrote a song about you."
"Mm," you hum, "so you're a stalkers stranger?"
"I prefer the term passionate." She says, shooting you a playful scowl.
You chuckle, "passionate for what? Stalking and preying on drunken women?"
"Pfft-" She scoffs. "You're not drunk."
For a moment, you consider agreeing with her. To save her the pain of realizing you hadn't been sober for this. But you know better than to lie to her. So, through lidded eyes ⎯ ones that should have been a rather telltale sign of your intoxication ⎯ you give her a look, not even needing to voice the truth aloud for her to understand.
"Well fuck." She groans, taking a step backward and causing your arms to fall to your sides.
Frankly, you'd expected her to be much more angered than that. Because you know you would be. After writing a song, chasing down, then tongue-fucking someone in the bathroom, the worst news to receive would be that they'd been wasted the entire time.
"I'm sorry," you're quick to apologize, for some reason feeling the need to earn her forgiveness.
"How're you planning to get home?" She asks.
"I hadn't thought about that." You admit.
"How about this," she suggests, "I give you a place to stay to apologize for fucking you while drunk and you let me take you to dinner tomorrow to apologize for not telling me beforehand. Deal?"
A smirk works its way to your mouth, "deal."
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lovely Hii
Can i get poly!marauders x fem reader where maybe she has been exhausted and busy lately and maybe they’re giving her some space cause they dont know if she wants affection now but she sees them all lovey dovey with eachother all the time and she feels sad cause she wants to join but feels too shy to ask so she tries to discreetly slip back and one of them notices?
Im sorry if that is a bunch of gibberish but i have been awake for over a day now and my brain is fried (i hate uni)
thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy <333
(comments are always appreciated and i literally need to see what you think to keep writing, angels. of course i can't force you to send me anything but it would be amazing if you take two seconds to tell me what you think. it's not always easy to keep doing something without getting any feedback about it ♡)
poly!marauders x fem!reader
the relationship between james and remus has always been somewhat chaotic.
they have huge chemistry, maybe something like opposites attract situation. remus is calm when james is bubbling with excitement, remus loves with silent kisses when james loses his breath as he makes love, remus likes rationality when james swims deep in his emotions.
you watch them flirt as they sit on the couch. you're at the table across them in the living room, staring at your laptop screen with exhausted eyes. it probably would be easier to complete what you've been writing if you could have more energy, but sadly you sit all tense and cold at your place. your arms get the chills, you avoid looking at your lovers.
if you leave the table to join them, james and remus would welcome you with open arms. the mere thought of james's lips against your forehead and remus's fingers rubbing your neck makes you want to cry loudly. it's just torturing yourself, but you don't think you're strong enough to ask for love. you need to get this done. you need to think about the classes you gotta pass.
james kisses a line on his boyfriend's cheek, so warm, remus practically loses his mind. "where's sirius?" james asks, remembering sirius leave for the kitchen minutes ago. "is he burning up our kitchen, do you think?"
"we would've notice."
"no, we wouldn't." james whispers. "you're too damn distracting."
remus melts. autumn always brings starvation for touch and loving, two things james is the best at giving. he looks at your way briefly, your droopy eyes worry him.
"she seems so tired." remus says, his lips kiss james's knuckles mindlessly. "should we say something to make her give a break?"
"she said the essay has a deadline, moons." james answers. "i mean, she clearly needs a break, but i'm not sure if we should interrupt her."
it's hard to decide because you get nervous with breaks sometimes. you complain about not controlling the time good enough when you're spending your free minutes with them and being unable to finish stuff at time. you say most of this teasingly, but the boys know there's always some truth in it.
sirius walks into the room with a big mug in his hands. he carries it carefully to your table. james and remus watch the scene, their hands together and legs tangled.
"here it is." sirius puts the mug on the table. "a perfect cup of hot chocolate for my gorgeous girl."
you look at him with the widest eyes. you can't cry. fuck, he's so sweet. he smiles, he looks so handsome with his old t-shirt and messed up hair. you close your laptop, curve your lips to stop yourself from crying.
"this is so nice, siri." you say to him, unshed tears clog your throat. "thank you."
"um- can i get a kiss? i spend fifteen minutes for this."
you nod with a smile, he leans down for you. you only mean to kiss his cheek, but he smells so good and he's so kind- your hand shakes as it touches his shoulder. it doesn't take sirius long to understand what's going on. he manages to hug you before you start crying.
"oh, baby, no-" he says with a sad voice. he attempts to make a joke. "you can't cry for hot chocolate- i'm sure it doesn't even taste that good."
james and remus sit straight with worry. "dove?" remus leaves the couch. "what's wrong?"
"are you okay?"
you nod, they probably won't believe it. you hold onto sirius, he lifts you up from the chair. it's a proper hug now, your skin tingles with the sensation. it feels so good to be touched.
"it's okay." sirius kisses your head. "you're just overwhelmed. you're okay."
you keep your head on sirius's chest. he's warm and his arms are strong, he supports your body to help you stay on your feet. remus brings his hand on your waist, his thumb gently draws a circle.
"can we go to bed?" you ask. separating yourself from sirius is hard, but it's harder to stay vertical. james extends a hand to you, you hold it greedily. they are all thinking the same thing, you'll calm down but you need to feel safe enough with your surroundings to do that. even though they'd like to keep you stuck in their arms, this might not be the best idea.
the bed is cold. it will pass in a few minutes. remus takes you under the blanket, james adjusts the pillows. sirius has a wrinkle between his eyebrows, he gets behind you on bed and wraps his arm around your shoulder. you sniffle softly, suddenly embarrassed by all the attention.
"sorry." you offer, your voice sounds sincerely sorry. "i don't know what came over me."
"i think we should be sorry." remus says. "jamie and i were talking about whether we should tell you to take a break but- we didn't wanna distract you. we should've distract you."
"it's not your fault that i can't manage my time doing stuff i've been doing for years." you say, weakly. "i'm just sick of being tired. i guess i- missed you."
sirius gives you a generous kiss on the side of your head. "you can jump on us any time you want, you know that, gorgeous."
"i think my head doesn't work like that when i'm exhausted."
"it doesn't have to." james says. his voice is like honey. "you don't have to ask for anything. we should be giving you everything before you even have to ask."
"he's right." remus agrees. "it should be like this for all of us, i think."
you nod. your eyes have a grateful look in them, they are undeniably tired, but still pretty to your boys. the bed is warmer. you force yourself to stop counting down the minutes for deadlines. james puts his head on your chest, hugs you as your back touches the bed, his arms are tight around you like you'll run away.
it's good to be touched. it's amazing to have contact with their hands, safe and secure, you can do anything you want if you always feel like this. remus kisses your fingers. his eyes are gentle. they are all so gentle, kind with you, you feel like you'll never break as long as you have them.
sirius's kisses help you fall asleep at the end. he's always bold with his affections, this time he manages to be softer with his lips and more tender with his hands. long fingers in your hair, chapped lips on your skin. he whispers how much he adores you, the tone of his voice hits your mind so well. you are okay. you think you'll be okay, and that's a nice beginning to get things done.
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders fanfiction#marauders#the marauders#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter x reader#james potter x you#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#james potter fic#remus lupin fic#sirius black fic#marauders fic#marauders x you#marauders x reader#marauders fanfic#marauders fanfiction#marauders era#the marauders imagine#the marauders fic
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We fell in love in October 🍁
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Just a warning, I will be annoying all of you with Fall fics until the end of November.
The order is here -> 🎂
It's a Saturday, and you're bored out of your mind. Luckily, you have a boyfriend with a car who will take you anywhere in the world, but especially in the back of his truck.
《Content》: NSFW. Car sex, finger sucking, PiV, creampie. Don't worry, there's plenty of fluff and silliness!!
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
An exasperated huff left you, your head hanging off the couch as you realized that watching the mundane program on the TV upside down did not, in fact, cure your torturing boredom.
It was one of those days; one of those days when nothing seemed interesting and no matter what you tried, you were left staring at the clock on the wall, watching as the seconds went by excruciatingly slow.
Although saying you had nothing to do wouldn't quite be the truth. There was plenty you had to do.
The laundry needed to be folded, the dishwasher unloaded and that one creaking door hinge that had been driving you crazy for who knows how long could do with a bit of oil.
You would just let all of those responsibilities be a problem for tomorrow-you.
Your neck started to ache and you became dizzy, so you decided to leave your odd position on the couch and see if you could find a craft to occup yourself with.
Pulling out the basket of supplies, you rummaged through it, pulling out unfinished projects, some abondend and others waiting to be started.
But none of them spoke to you. There really was no point in trying to force creativity or your art. It came when it pleased and it went just as quickly.
With an annoyed whine, you haphazardly stuffed all the yarn and felt and paper back into the basket, shoving it back in its place beneath the coffee table.
You had run out of ideas at this point. It was 9 pm on a Saturday, the air crisp and dark in the depths of fall. No cozy seasonal movies piqued your interest, despite the lovely decoration you had put out with so much care.
You sat on the floor of your living room with a pout, your back pressed against the couch as you stewed in your boredom.
You'd wilt and wither away soon, you could feel it. The monotone ticking of the clock was starting to make your blood boil. The sound felt like nails on a chalkboard, unpleasantly scratching at your brain.
If you didn't find something to do soon, you'd chuck your cinnamon scented candle at the damn thing.
But then, just a moment later, with the creak of wooden floorboards in the next room over, all your problems were solved.
You remembered your boyfriend that had been locked away in his office for hours now, drowning in paperwork.
You shuffled over to where his workspace was, gently rasping your knuckles against the door before peaking your head in.
Leon was hunched over his desk, a lamp illuminated the room and the sounds of a pen on paper could be heard.
You almost scoffed at the sight of his work glasses folded onto the table.
You have scolded him many times for not wearing them; it wasn't like he needed glasses to see, quite the opposite actually, his sight and aim were impeccable.
But they served to take the strain off his eyes when he was working at this hour with such a horrendously bright light.
You decided against arguing this time, although it wasn't an easy decision.
"Leon?" You asked softly, quietly closing the door behind you.
He swiftly held up a finger to you with furrowed brows.
"Just... give me second to finish this sentence..." he mumbled, and you waited silently.
There was little more infuriating than being in the middle of writing a phrase and being interrupted.
Your gaze shifted around the room, taking in the simplicity of it all.
There was no color at all, really, and no decor. Not a picture or a silly paperweight.
It served it's purpose, you supposed; Leon was very adamant about keeping work and home separate. Though, it wasn't always like that. Before you started dating him, the line between his work as an agent and his home life was almost invisible, practically nonexistent.
Oftentimes, his work was his home.
The familiarity of being out in the field gave him a sense of morbid comfort. But since you came into his life, it changed. You wanted him to have peace and quiet and safety that didn't come in the form of a rotten shack in the middle of nowhere.
It wasn't easy to get him away from all that he knew, but you couldn't be more proud of him for giving himself boundaries.
The dropping of a pen on the wooden desk brought you out of your thoughts and your gaze to Leon.
"Now," he sighed, turning to face you in his chair, "what can I do for you, my sweet angel?"
His voice was soft with just a tint of a mischievous smirk ringing through his words.
You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous display of affection, but the smile on your cheeks betrayed you.
"I'm bored." You stated blandly, your arms hanging by your sides.
"Bored?" He raised a brow at you.
"What about all those crafts you wanted to finish?"
"No.. not feeling it." you sighed.
Leon thought for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Okay, well, you've been wanting to watch-"
"No..."
"You really did want to try out that-"
"No...."
He hummed in thought before opening his mouth to speak again.
"We have to get that laundry folded, we could-"
"No!" You cried out dramatically, sinking to the floor and splaying out on the small carpet.
"I will bore to death. I will rot and decay into a pile of dust from the lack of activity- My brain will shrivel up is what's gonna happen, actually."
Your complains were muffled as your cheek was pressed against the rough texture of the rug.
Leon stretched and sighed.
"You're not exactly making it easy, babe." He chuckled dryly, watching as you grumbled something into the carpet.
You sighed loudly and Leon pinched the bridge of his nose at your dramatics, but couldn't hold back his smile at just how fucking adorable you were.
He pushed himself out of his chair and laid down beside you on his back, hands folded over his stomach.
"We don't need to stay inside, you know. We can go anywhere we want. Just say the word, sweetheart." He said softly, glancing at you.
You pulled your face away from the floor and looked at him, your cheek squished up against the rug.
His expression softened at the subtle shimmer in your eyes.
"I guess you're right... but where would we even go?" You replied. Leon turned on his side, his head rested in his hand, supported by a propped up elbow.
"I'll take you wherever you want to go, angel. Lucky for you, you have a boyfriend with a polished truck and a shiny new license. Not to mention how incredibly handsome he is-"
You slapped his arm and giggled, a grin spreading on his face at your reaction.
"He's indeed quite handsome. Don't tell him but I'm only with him for his car." You leaned in to whisper the secret in his direction.
You couldn't help but laugh when you saw his face.
"I'm kidding, babe." You chuckled, scooching closer and pressing a peck to the tip of his nose, watching in delight as his face scrunched up.
"You better be." He grumbled, pulling you into his chest.
You gazed up at him with bright eyes and everything in him melted.
"Of course." There was a beat before you spoke again.
"It is a nice car, though-" you said with a grin.
Leon scoffed and shoved his hands under your shirt, tickling your bare sides.
"You're a little brat, you know that?" He smirked. You writhed under his hands, laughing and wheezing, trying to get away from him.
"S-Stop- you love me!" You heaved between laughs.
"That I do." He chuckled, stoping the ticklish torture and pulling you back against him with your back pressed to his chest.
"You've got me wrapped around your finger, pretty girl." He sighed into the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose into your hair.
You were panting still, leaning back against him as you caught your breath.
"Can we go for a drive?" You asked quietly, stroking his knuckles while his arms were wrapped around your middle.
"Sure. Where do you wanna go?" He breathed, reveling in the comfort of having you in his embrace.
"I don't know, just... wherever you are." You said softly, one of those beautiful and gentle smiles on your face. His lip twitched upwards, and his cheeks became hot. You still had the ability to fluster him like on the first day.
"Okay.." he replied, swallowing down the butterflies that feared to rise up his throat from his stomach.
"Okay." You sighed, snuggling back into the warmth of his body.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
With several cozy blankets in tow, you made your way out of your warm and homely apartment to Leon's truck.
The dark paint shimmered slightly in the cool rays of moonlight. He opened the door for you with a gentle smile, and when he went to close it you pulled him in by the front of his sweater to press a sweet kiss to his lips as a thank you.
Leon hummed in delight, closing the door before getting into the driver's seat.
"You ready?" He asked, glancing over at you only to laugh when he saw you wrapped in a soft blanket, only your face peaking out.
"As I'll ever be." You replied enthusiastically, your cheeks rounding from your wide smile.
Leon chuckled and shook his head, kicking the car into gear and pulling onto the street.
The quiet rumble of the tires on the street filled the silence between both of you.
There didn't need to be much talking, the two of you content in the safe and warm atmosphere of the truck.
You put on some cozy fall tunes and sunk back into your seat, admiring Leon's profile.
He was as handsome as ever; those blond locks, the beautiful bump on his nose, the curve of his lips and his strong chin that flowed nicely into his soft jawline. The light of the passing street lamps illuminated his features perfectly.
"So," He broke the silence, "how are you getting along with those costume ideas?"
"I've got a few." You hummed, cupping his hand, the one situated on the gear stick.
"Alright, what have you got?" He asked, a hand lazily grasping the steering wheel.
"My first idea was Morticia and Gomez. A classic, in my opinion. And they have a surprisingly healthy relationship."
Leon smirked.
"That's basically an excuse for me to touch you all night. Worship you, even. Not a bad suggestion, Cara mia." He purred, emphasizing the nickname. You laughed and gently shoved his arm.
"At least we know you'd be an excellent Gomez." You snorted, rolling your eyes playfully when he wiggled his brows at you.
"Next I thought we could be the Maitlands from Beetlejuice. They're not the most recognizable but I think they fit us pretty well." You smiled.
"Besides, I'd kill to see you in a flannel and some glasses." You grinned, watching as Leon huffed and slightly turned his head to hide his reddening cheeks.
"Oh, shut up." He grumbled.
"What? You'd be perfect for a dorky model builder who loves his wife!" You argued.
He perked up, a quirk of interest in his brow.
"So you're saying I get to be pretend to be married to you for a night? Sign me up."
He smirked and you chuckled.
"You could be married to me for real, you know. It's in your hands, I'm just saying." You shrugged, slightly showing off your bare ringfinger.
"Don't you worry, sweetheart. You'll get that ring sooner than you think." Leon hummed, taking your hand and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.
The statement caught you off guard and your face suddenly felt hot and your ribcage too small for your pounding heart.
You cleared your throat and kept your head low, trying to hide your flustered face.
"Moving on; the last one I have is Ghostface and a helpless victim. Those Scream parodies are gold." You laughed.
Leon winced at the suggestion and you tilted your head.
"Not your favorite idea?"
"Let's keep that one in the bedroom, yeah?" He winked at you with a devilish smirk, cackling when you smacked his arm and began scolding him.
"What's your favorite scary movie?" Leon whispered with a sultry tone, laughing when you squawked at him.
"Shut up!"
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
At this point, you had pulled over at the side of the road, the stars an image to magnificent to pass up.
You and Leon were huddled together on the hood of his truck, wrapped in blankets as you gazed at the sparkling specks of gold on the deep indigo tent that was the clear night sky.
"Aren't they pretty?" You whispered, your head resting on his shoulder, trying to make out the constellations.
"Yeah... but they don't hold a candle to you." Leon replied quietly, a soft smile on his face.
"Charmer." You chuckled.
"Maybe, but you're the prettiest and brightest star in my sky."
You sighed with a smile, a constant in your life since Leon became a part of it.
"Leon Kennedy, do you have any idea how badly I want to kiss you right now?"
He chuckled.
"What's stopping you, huh? I'm all yours, baby."
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
That's how you ended up with him on top of you in the back of his car, his tongue teasing your mouth while his hand was on its steady way into your pants.
Your arms were wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair while he forced your legs open with the width of him.
His other hand was gently cradling your face, stroking your cheekbone with a softness that made you melt. It was a mess of spit and a clashing of teeth, with occasional moans and sighs.
He swallowed up every pretty sound you made, vowing to keep them in the deepest parts of his heart that were reserved for you, and you only.
His fingers graced the waistline of your panties, only for them to trail further down, over your mound until he was caressing your clothed folds with firm strokes.
Your mouth fell open and your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the delicious sensation.
"Oh, fuck..." you breathed, a whimper escaping your throat when the rumble of Leon's chuckle vibrated against the skin of your neck.
"Does that feel good, baby?" He heaved with a smirk, groaning when you nodded eagerly.
"Such a pretty angel..." he whispered, going back to devouring your mouth while he stroked along the wet spot that had formed on your underwear.
Your pants were shimmied down all the way to your ankles, along with your panties.
"Open up for me." He purred, pressing two of his fingers down on your tongue, watching as you took them deep in your mouth and began suckling on them.
You moaned around his digits, feeling his callouses and the contours of them against the roof of your mouth.
"That's a good girl..." he praised, rivulets of drool running from the corners of your lips.
He pulled them free, earning a displeased whine from you before gently rubbing at your slit. You jolted at the euphoric feeling and were reduced to a blabbering mess.
"Oh, please, please, please, please..." You babbled, hooking your legs around his hips to pull him closer.
Leon chuckled breathlessly and fished his throbbing cock out of his boxers and sweatpants, sliding his tip through your folds.
The head of his dick caught on your clit in a way that made you cry out in bliss, a sound that was enough for him to cease his teasing.
"I'll give you what you want, sweetheart." He grunted, pushing his whole length inside of you. He moaned at the snug fit of your velveteen walls around him, burying his head in the crook of your neck.
When he bottomed out, you let out a shuddered groan at the feeling of being so full of him.
"Shit... you feel so good..." Leon breathed, beginning to rut his hips against yours the best of his ability in the small space of the backseat.
It didn't take long before he was thrusting into you at a considerable pace, his thumb circling your clit while you moaned and writhed beneath him.
The heavy weight of him was comforting as it pressed down on you. It was nearly impossible to catch your breath with him kissing you so feverishly.
The pleasure was overwhelming, making your head spin as you were consumed by the ecstasy that seeped deep into your bones.
At a particularly hard thrust you clenched around him and cried out, making a strained groan rip from his throat.
"Oh, God... please, I'm so close..." You whimpered, tightly holding onto his shoulders to ground yourself as best as you could.
Leon was panting, keeping his thrusts and the pressure on your clit steady.
"You look so good all fucked out." He moaned, watching your glazed eyes and scrunched brows.
You mewled when the coil in your stomach started to tighten, a slow and strong build up.
Like a crack of thunder, that coil snapped and your orgasm washed over you, making you shudder from pleasure.
A jumbled mess of moans left your mouth as the bliss flooded your veins and you clamped down on his cock.
Leon was close behind, grunts and groans signaling his climax as he cupped your chin and pulled you into a kiss.
He spilled inside of you, filling you up with a pleasantly warm feeling. You tried to catch your breath, Leon panting above you.
"Y-You know how you said I'm the prettiest and brightest star in your sky?" You heaved, riding out the aftershock of your release.
"Yeah. What about it?" Leon tilted his head, breathing heavily.
"Stars can only be seen when it's dark. So, will you be my night so I can continue to shine?"
He huffed softly, a sound of fondness before gently cupping your face.
"I'll be whatever you need me to be."
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
What would your couples costume with Leon be???
More Leon and others -> 💫
《Leon tgalist》: @vampkennedy @dmitriene @k-fallingstar @entr4p3 @allysunny @withonly-sweetheart @leonslittlekennedy
Lmk if you want to be added to my taglist 🩷
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
#bumblebeesfromvenus#leon kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x fem!reader#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy#resident evil leon#leon s kennedy smut#leon smut#leon s kennedy fluff#leon kennedy comfort#leon kennedy fluff#leon kennedy smut
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Hole in one | LH44 & LN4
pairing: LH44 x Reader x LN4
summary: your boyfriends want to go golfing on a rarely non-busy day but your mind has other ideas seeing how hot your boyfriends are. luckily, you're not the only one who thinks golfing isn't the only hole in one today--
warning: age gap between lewis & partners, semi-threesome, dom/sub dynamics, mention of eating out, mention of sex, mention of overstimulation, semi-free use(?), cockwarming, blowjob, semi-public exhibitionism (aka car sex), mmf threesome sorta???, edging, facial, mention of medication.
fc: none!
a/n: I KNOW THE TITLE IS CHEESY. DOES IT MAKE SENSE?? IDK AND IDC. It's late and i used my brain power for the smut--don't look at me
wc: 4.1K
God, you were certain you were going to go straight to hell. Poor boys just wanted a nice bonding day and you were imagining their hands helping you get out of this golfing outfit.
The thought crossed your mind glancing between the two Brits who were currently standing by the golf tee happily talking while you looked between the two trying to figure out which one you wanted to take first.
First, Lando was in those black golf shorts and that stupid black wife beater. You had so much to look at that you didn’t where you wanted to focus on first. Between the vein that pops out of his neck when he swings to his hands that gripped the gold club the way you wish he would grip your hair to his muscles just on full display along with a gorgeous tan that would look so much better with marks from you. Your eyes kept linger up to that curly mullet he had just gotten and you wet your lips because damn it. That mullet was just coaxing you to run your fingers through and grab and yank. Maybe you could get a hold of that chain and—
There was some laughter as a darker male nudged Lando with his shoulder. Lewis was the polar opposite of Lando.
While Lando looked like he had just rolled out of bed ten minutes before his ride came, Lewis was dressed like he was always on the golf course. A cream (you think it’s cream anyway) woven short sleeve polo and green golfing pants. The pants fit Lewis in a way that you could clearly see a little bit more than typically bargained before. You learned that the hard way by hole 3 when you realized Lewis did not have his hands in his pocket and now at hole 11, you were disrespectfully staring at any chance you got. When you couldn’t, you took to staring at all the different tattoos that you could see on his arms and watching his muscles. What you wouldn’t give for those damn tatted biceps putting your head in a headlock.
God, what do people call this duo?
Pairs??
You squint when the rare sunlight is suddenly in your eyes before a figure steps to the side slightly to give you shade. The gentle swipe of a thumb across your bottom lip snaps you back into reality.
“Something distracting you, love?”
Your face flushes almost immediately when Lando speaks to you. You avert your eyes while clearing your throat before letting out a soft noise of surprise when Lando lets his hand slip just underneath your jaw and forces your head up just an inch higher. You look back at him and blink because wow. The guys were right. You really did just need a few touches from either of them to turn into a mess.
“Sweetheart,” Lando murmurs while leaning down, “I asked you a question, didn’t I?”
“Yeah..”
“You haven’t answered me. You know I don’t like repeating myself but you are just too cute like this so I’ll ask one more time. Is there something distracting you, love?”
“Oh!” You start, “Oh no—not really—” you ramble out and sit up a bit straighter when Lando sits next to you in the golf cart, resting an elbow on the steering wheel as his hand moves back to his chin, swiping his thumb on your lower lip, “just thinking about…things,” you murmur while nodding, more so trying to convince yourself then Lando, “that’s all.”
“What were you thinking about?” He smirks.
You squirm slightly under his gaze while glancing at Lando before letting your gaze drift around. Nobody else was around, which wasn’t a surprise considering you and your boyfriends decided to go golfing only an hour after the rain stopped even though the clouds still hung around, the sun was coming out. At least Lewis was kind enough to tip the workers very well as a thank you. Speaking of, your gaze lands on Lewis who is still by the golf tee, texting someone intensely which means Lewis is distracted.
Glancing back, you’re met with sea green eyes that meet your gaze. There’s a dark fire burning in them that you know screams lustful trouble. You knew better than to give into this temptation. You were in public for christ sake and the last thing you wanted was to get in trouble but you’ve been dying to get your hands on his mullet and it’s right here.
Trouble be damned, you slide closer to Lando, letting a hand make its way around his neck and you start to run your fingers carefully through his curly mullet. You gently scratch his neck as Lando rests his head on your shoulder. You gasp silently when warm lips brush against your neck teasingly. You bite your bottom lip harshly feeling Lando nip at your neck to stay quiet as you press your thighs together. You yank his hair slightly feeling his hand slide between your thighs.
“Lando,” You murmur as a warning trying to close your legs.
“Shhh,” Lando murmurs in your ear. You shiver hearing that stupid smirk in his words as a finger traces the waistband of your skirt on your skin shifting so one of his legs caught yours and forced your legs open for him. You whine softly as his hand starts to slip under the waistband.
You gasp when Lando’s head is yanked back and your eyes flick up to Lewis, standing behind Lando while holding his head back to look up at the older Brit. Lewis is looking down at Lando before his gaze finally makes it over to you and he raises a brow, “what do we have, here?” Lewis asks.
You stare at the older male then at Lando because you have two options. You can either go down with the ship or save yourself. Typically, you’d probably go down with Lando but you were still recovering from two nights ago when you and Lando decided to send Lewis some rather risky photos while he was at the factory. The memory of being being sat in Lewis lap having orgasm after orgasm from Lando, who was on his knee for that entire time eating you out and that was about a good…two hours before Lewis had showed you some mercy by letting you lay on the couch while Lewis had Lando bent over the coffee table an apologizing mess.
“I tried to warn him.” You admit to Lewis.
“Y/N!” Lando manages before he groans slightly when Lewis tugs his hair a bit more while Lewis leans over him, "Sorry,” Lando breaths out.
Lewis shakes his head while looking down at him, “you just love to cause trouble don’t you, you fucking brat,” Lewis smirks at Lando’s feigned innocent smile. He looks at you and uses his free hand to tilt your chin up. “Meanwhile, Y/N over here is being such a little angel for me.”
“She is not,” Lando breathes out, “She was enjoying it more than what she’s leading on.”
Lewis hums softly and thinks it over, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. I did interrupt before anything fun could happen, but.” Lewis leans down, “it seems that out of the two of you, you typically are the one that initiates trouble and y/n has such a pure heart to not let you get punished on your own. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”
You bit your bottom lip gently while nodding in agreement, “That’s right.”
“See? She’s so kind,” Lewis praises as he leans over to give you a peck, “unlike a certain brat.”
“Well, someone has to keep things lively,” Lando muses, “Besides I never hear either of you complain.”
“You’re right, we don’t complain,” Lewis starts, “we love it very much but sometimes, we just want an easy and I just want you to behave for me. Like today, it was supposed to be an easy day with golfing and cuddling but now I have to punish you for misbehaving.” Lewis shakes his head softly, “what am I going to do with you?” Lewis hums looking between the two of you and grins, “I know exactly what to do.”
It was a miracle that the golf cart made it back to its area in one piece. Even though it only went up to 20 miles per hour Lewis made it feel like it was going much faster with how determined he was to get the three of you off the course after telling Lewis your idea. Lando was growing more excitedly anxious while you sat between the two of them, curious to see what is suppose to happen.Lewis had given you the keys to the Mercedes, telling you and Lando to head over early as he wrapped up and you happily obliged with Lando giving Lewis a mock salute and following.
“Lando,” you start when you two are close to the car when Lando is pressing against your back, kissing his neck. Lando murmurs something into your skin as you tilt your head to give Lando better access as you unlock the car. You get the back door open before you yelp when Lando gives a sharp slap to your ass, whipping around, “Lando!”
“What?” He feigns innocence as he pulls you close by your hips. He lets his hands travel down to your ass to gently rub soothing circles where he slapped before grabbing your ass, “Am I supposed to just stare? Can’t touch it now?”
You giggle softly while wrapping your arms around his neck. You let Lando back you up to the car as you hum softly, “I suppose that wouldn’t be fair.”
Lando grins before leaning down and catching your lips in a kiss. You let a hand find its way back into the mullet as Lando tilts your head, deepening the kiss. You moan softly which gives Lando a chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. He stumbles you backwards, breaking the kiss to help you into the back seat before climbing in after you. He shuts the door but something stops it and Lando whips his head around to see Lewis holding the door handle. “Oh,” he says breathlessly and laughs, “Lew. Jesus.”
“Sorry,” Lewis chuckles sheepishly, “didn’t have the heart to interrupt the show.”
You giggle softly while scooting over so Lewis could climb in. Once he was in, you comfortably sat back in your corner watching Lewis pull Lando into a searing kiss by the back of his neck. You fanned yourself watching because it should not be as hot as it was watching Lando just crumble under Lewis’ touch slowly but surely. When they finally pulled away to catch their breath, you didn’t even want to join in. You were much happier just sitting in your corner watching Lando turn into a mess as the curly hair driver was now straddling Lewis, kissing and nipping at his neck for more attention.
You lock eyes with Lewis and he just nods his head slightly. You immediately crawl over and Lando lets out a huff when Lewis shifts him to straddle one thigh while you straddle the other. You’re cupping Lewis’ face and kissing him stupid. You pull back before slinking off of Lewis thigh.
You and Lewis work together to get into position. Lewis manages to turn Lando before having him sit in Lewis' lap. While Lewis pulls Lando’s into another kiss, you move yourself to the floor. It’s a bit tighter than you anticipated but you made it work. You glance up, seeing Lando’s with his head back on Lewis shoulder gasping and whining. Lewis was murmuring in his ear while one hand was up Lando’s shirt playing with his nipples while the other was loosely messing with Lando’s belt. He glances down when you gently push Lewis’ hand away from Lando’s belt before undoing it.
You stick your tongue out as you fiddle with the belt while Lando squirms above. You huff before smacking his inner thigh gently causing him to yelp out of shock, “stop moving!” You tell him as you get the belt undone before undoing Lando’s shorts.
“Y/N?”
“Yes?” You ask.
“Could you do me a big favor?” Lewis asks, “could you go into the glove compartment and grab me the travel lube? Please?”
“Of course!” You take a hot minute to turn so your back is to your boyfriends and lean over the counsel and just get the glove compartment open. You shift to lean a bit more as you dig through, listening to the sound of kisses and soft gasps and whines. “Oh, was someone eager?” You hear Lewis behind you, “Was a good enough boy to at least your butt plug.” You put your lips together tightly as if you were eating a lemon to keep from laughing out loud as Lando just murmurs something before he groans out in pleasure before he tries to quiet himself.
“Found it!” You announce happily as you lean back offering the travel lube to Lewis. The second that it’s out of your hand you’re leaning forward to close the glove compartment while behind you Lewis and Lando shuffled around before Lando . When you turn around, Lando is now sitting in Lewis’ lap. He was panting slightly his back against Lewis chest, shorts and boxers now pulled down, face flushed.
“Ah, there we go,” Lewis purrs while hooking his chin on Lando’s shoulder. You watch Lewis’s hands moving down to stroke Lando’s cock, making you kneel right there as he does so, “You’re very pretty as a brat,” Lewis whispers but besides Lando’s gasps and whines, you can hear Lewis, “but you’re much prettier when you’re like this.” Lando manages out a breathless “Yes sir,” while gripping Lewis’ arm like a lifeline.
Lewis drags his teeth against Lando’s neck, finally biting a mark on his pretty skin (which you’re jealous of since you’ve been wanting to do that all day) but you’re getting more flustered while looking semi-embarrassed, turning as red as Ferrari’s suit and ducking your head. But Lewis is quick to snap his fingers and motions for you to rest his head against Lando's bare thigh while he works. You hesitate but do what is asked with Lewis praising you, "just keep looking here baby. Don't look away from how pretty Lando's being for you,” and Lewis goes back to working Lando up. "See? Look at how well behaved Y/N is? You see what happens when you behave? You get rewarded. We should probably do something to reward her...right?"
You watch Lando swallow a strangle cry probably because the three of you were in a mainly empty parking lot and currently doing—this. You see Lewis use his free hand to slip up Lando’s shirt to grab his chin, forcing the younger Brit to look at him, “Well? Do you think Y/N deserves a reward?” “I—mm yeah,” Lando manages out, “but I thought—”
“Oh trust me. I didn’t forget about you.” Lewis grins and kisses him, “you are going to sit here on my cock so pretty for me while Y/N enjoys her reward and let us just use you how we see fit, is that okay?” Grabbing his jaw a bit harsher, “and the only time you can cum is when I decide. Understood?”
Lando whines but nods. “I—yes sir,” Lando says softly while digging his nails a bit more into Lewis' skin, “I understand.” Lewis hisses feeling Lando digging into his arm. In return, Lewis leans down to nip at Lando’s neck, leaving another mark while rolling his hips up. Lando arches his back and moans loudly, squirming slightly. “Oh fuck—”
Lando completely ignores the reaction he pulls from the younger driver while using his free hand to brush your cheek. He shifts a little further forward and ushers you up. "Come on, you’ve earned a reward for being so good and not following this brat’s lead for trouble. Go on," He urges, nodding his head before you get the picture. You look up at Lewis and Lando before adjusting your kneeling position the best you can.Then you duck your head and wrap your lips around Lando’s cock, replacing Lewis’ hand. Immediately, you hollow your cheeks out when you start sucking the other off.
“Such good sweethearts, both of you,” Lewis says above directed at both of you. You can’t help the blush that spreads across your cheeks and neck as your lips stretch over the girth of Lando’s cock. It earns a strangled cry from Lando as Lewis speaks. "Fuck you two are just too pretty," he moans, rolling his hips up into Lando, earning another gasp and moan as Lando bucks his hips forward slightly. It causes you to choke on Lando briefly and when you pull back, there's a string of spit connecting your lips to Lando still. “Oh are you okay sweetheart?” Lewis purrs softly, “Lando isn’t being rude, right?”
“No, no he’s not being rude. Just, surprised was all,” you admit.
“Well, why don’t you take a bit of a break?”
You blink and nod slightly as you lean back, panting softly. You press your thighs together when you’re reminded just how strong these drivers are as you watch Lewis grab Lando’s hips hard enough to lease bruises before Lewis is practically using Lando as a toy. You watch Lewis manage to pick Lando up before slamming him down. Lando’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he grips onto Lewis, doing exactly what he was told. Sitting there, looking pretty, and letting you two use him however you two saw fit.
Really this shouldn't be turning you on as much as it is, but it is. Lewis is really hot when he gets all commanding like this, switching off from fucking Lando senseless to you sucking Lando off while Lando is being pampered and gets the praises he deserves and looks so sexy as he’s begging Lewis to show him any mercy and - you stick your tongue on the underside the younger drivers's cock, swallowing him down even more, some of your hair falling in your face when Lewis gently guides your head back dow. You know that your jaw is probably going to be sore tomorrow and you probably won’t be able to get in this car for a bit without getting flustered but you do not care right now when your boyfriends are being this hot right now.
"Look at her, Lan," Lewis breathes when he sees you giving into the job, "look at how much she's loving this,” you glance up seeing Lewis pampering Lando in kisses. Lando was breathing heavily, face and chest flushed. Hair stuck to his forehead from sweat while his cheeks were slick with both sweat and tears. His eyes are slightly red and glassy but he seems so gone in subspace. Lando almost sobs when you deep throat him, burying his face in Lewis neck as his hands fly to your hair to find purchase, holding onto your hair as you start bobbing your head again, randomly deep throating him to keep things interesting.
Pulling off, you pant while looking up, biting your bottom lip as you smile when Lewis strokes your cheek, “Oh, what a good little slut for you’re being - and only for us.” Lewis starts, “You think it’s time for Lando to have mercy?” You look your other boyfriend over and nod. “Okay. Well, how do you want him? Down your throat or all over your face? Tell me what you want."
Your brain short circuits because you swore that Lewis was going to make this decision, not you. This feels like a big decision and you aren’t really sure what to pick as you squirm in your spot, “I—um,” you start before Lewis is grabbing your hair and guiding you to look up at him a bit harshly, "Y/N," Lewis warns, "you have to use your words. Or we will stop and I will fuck Lando silly in the backseat and neither of you will get off. You understand me, don’t you? Tell me what you want."
You let your mouth fall open before closing your mouth and swallowing the lump in your throat. As much as you would love to see your boyfriends have sex, the idea of not getting off was the only thing that made the idea slightly unappealing. This was your reward so you found it a bit rude that you were now in the position where you couldn’t properly enjoy it. “I k—I understand sir,” you correct yourself swiftly, “I—” might as well go big since you’re already here giving a blowjob in a car, “I want Lando to come on my face, please.”
“Such a pretty slut,” Lewis whispers to you while gently pulling you up closer to him. You shift before he pulls you in into a kiss so searing that neither of you remember how long it lasts but he knows when it's done, he has both you and him gasping for air. “Whatever our princess wants is what she gets. He murmurs, “Now why don’t you sit back.” You nod quickly as you sit back. Lewis makes Lando look and he groans seeing the state you were in and you could only imagine how you looked. Lips swollen and red, cheeks flushed, eyes glossy. Lando tries to look away but Lewis catches his chin and forces him to look while his other hand replaces your lips and starts to stroke Land again. "Come on baby," he goads, moving them closer, angling them so his cock is pointed right at your face. "Give her what she wants. Paint his pretty whore face," he growls, the slick making an obscene noise. "Y/N, open your fucking mouth and stick our your tongue," he commands, voice rough. Your eyes widen for a second but you also follow that command, hands resting on Lando's knees and opening his mouth, waiting patiently. "See love?" Lewis whispers, pressing his lips to Lando's temple. "See how good she's being? Now be good for us and come over Y/N's face, yeah? Paint it for us."
Lando is so overstimulated between Y/N and Lewis that he can’t even remember his own name right now. He whines loudly when Lewis shifts slightly to kiss Y/N, feeling Lewis shift inside him and god if he didn’t get to finish soon, he was going to become the worst possible person for Lewis to handle. He groans loudly, melting into Lewis chest while jerking his hips into Lewis hand, eyes closed and head tipped back. He forces his head up to look at you and he lets out a strangled noise because oh fuck. You should not look this gorgeous right now with your tongue out and eyes on him. "Uh huh," Lando manages because it’s all he can muster.
There’s no warning. No heads up. Not even a single noise. Lando’s orgasm hits him hard and fast and unsuspectingly that Lando just lets his mouth fall open silently as he arches his back, legs shaking, and eyes rolling into the back of his head. Lewis is murmuring praises while running his free hand through Lando’s hair while you get a second to close your eyes because the last thing you want is seamen in the eye. You open your eyes when Lewis gently coaxes you to. Both Lando and Lewis moan softly seeing the absolute mess Lando made of your face. You blush slightly before you close your mouth and swallow whatever made it onto your tongue before sticking your tongue out again.
“Such a good princess for us,” Lewis praises, “did you enjoy your reward?”
“I did.”
“Did someone learn why they need to behave?” Lewis asks.
Lando hums while slumped against Lewis' chest, “yeah,” he murmurs, “I did. Not going to change anything.”
“We wouldn’t want it any other way,” you giggle and Lewis laughs.
“Okay baby,” Lewis rubs Lando’s back, “think you’d be good sitting for a bit while Y/N and I finish up?”
Lando groans softly and whines, “noooo,” he starts. “Just–five minutes?” Lando asks.
You sit next to Lewis and giggles softly while kissing Lando’s other temple, “sure baby. I can wait five minutes. I’m not in a rush. Babe?”
“I can manage waiting five minutes,” Lewis smiles as you and Lewis happily smother Lando into kisses. That is until Lando becomes a bit more coherent and stupidly says,
“You know this is the first time I lasted more than 10 minutes off my meds…oh my god. It’s like–a hole in one–”
“BOOOOOO.”
“Lando, that was horrible–”
“GOD FORBID I SPEAK THE TRUTH–”
#starlight library presents;#hole in one fic#HIO#lando norris x y/n#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris smut#ln4 x y/n#ln4 imagine#ln4 x reader#ln4 smut#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x y/m#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton smut#lh44 x reader#lh44 x y/n#lh44 imagine#lh44 smut#444 x reader#444 x y/n#444 imagine#444 smut#startlight library navigation#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 smut
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My Person
A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.
Summary: In which Sam's question forces Bucky to reveal his true feelings to his so called "friend", Y/N.
Pairing: tfatws!bucky x female!reader
Words: 3.2k++
Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, fluff, wee bit of angst, bucky is so adorable in this I WANT HIM SO BAD, also he is a bit feral. I feel like he can be more feral than this but you know, he doesn't wanna scare her away lol. This is just a result from surge of need so might not be too much of plot but I hope you enjoy your reading, anyway.
Inspiration: This post right here by @black-cat-2
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Sam took notice on every single crooks and corners as he followed Bucky's dragging footsteps from behind. It wasn't that he didn't want to help him but Bucky refused the offer right on the bat, saying that the serum will fix him up sooner or later.
The aftermath of their final battle with the flagsmasher was chaotic to say the least. With the splitting sides of public opinions of the new Captain America and the whispers about how the former winter soldier saved a bunch of civilian tonight had been the talk of the town.
But both Sam and Bucky decided not to think of it too much, especially when both were exhausted from the fight. Not to mention Bucky was injured. Although Sam knew damn well that the soldier can managed himself to a hotel to rest for the night like he always does, but as a worried friend, or rather a babysitter some would say, he insisted to accompany Bucky all the way through.
And Bucky was not in the mood to argue; Sam is as equally stubborn as Steve used to be, so he let the man do whatever he wants.
It was clear Sam was suspicious of where the hell did this terminator brought him to, but mostly he was curious. He thought he would just accompany him to the nearest hotel but nope. After taking an Uber, the next thing he knew, Bucky was leading him into this apartment building, that was obviously not his.
"Last time I checked your apartment was in Brooklyn. When did you get a place here?" Sam asked as Bucky stopped at one of the identical looking doors.
"It's not mine" Bucky replied truthfully as he removed the glove from his fleshed hand and pressed his thumb at the top of the door handle.
Sam eyed him with a look on his face when he sassed at him, "Said the guy who is currently unlocking the doors with his fingerprint."
Bucky simply rolled his eyes before the chiming sound alerts that the door was unlocked. Bucky opened the door to let Sam inside before he himself got in after him. "Seriously, man. If I knew you can afford having two apartments I would've asked you to pay for tonight's dinner. That's the least you can do..." Sam's words died as his eyes scanned the apartment.
Whatever he was expecting the apartment to look like, it was far from it. He surely was not expecting the place to be fully decorated with complete set of furniture in every area of the room. Whether it is the living room area, or the huge kitchen that was also equipped with built-in oven.
Even with the lack of light, Sam could see the color pallette on the walls were definitely not what Bucky would go for. The sentimetal trinkets on the shelves, the sweet fragrant of the scented candles; everything was the very opposite of what Bucky's apartment in Brooklyn looks like, feels like.
This, it felt like home. Warm and inviting. Quiet and serene.
"You know what? I take that back. Whose house have you broke us into?" Sam asked, almost in awe rather than shocked, "I know for a fact that this ain't your house."
Bucky huffed a heavy breath as he remove his tactical gears, "I didn't say it was mine, remember? Or flying with the pigeons in the sky had made you forgot how to undertand human language?" there was an unfiltered sarcasm in his tone that didn't go unnoticed by Sam.
So obviously he got defensive and unknowingly increase his volume as he countered, "Woah woah, that was uncalled for. And for your information pigeons can't fly as fast a my wings, and rest assured that I--"
Bucky swiftly stomped towards him, eyes wide almost in anger, while his metal hand reached to cover Sam's mouth, "Can you shut the fuck up, she's probably asleep and your noisy ass will wake--"
"Bucky?" A tiny yet groggy voice interrupted the conversation causing both of them to turn their attention to the source. The figure peeped itself from the bedroom, her uncertainty made it that only half of her body was revealed through the doorway.
Her squinting eyes indicates how recent she was woken up from her sleep and Bucky flashed a quick glared at Sam for that. Sam simply shrug with his hands the air as a response. He was still confused who is this woman and why were they in her house.
Bucky's tight features softens as he called for her, "Hey, babydoll. What are you doing up?"
Recognizing that voice anywhere her feet made her way to him, "Heard some noises." She answered shortly as her knuckles find her eyes and rubbed it lightly. The closer she gets, the clearer Bucky can see the dark circles under her eyes, signifying how much she was lacking of sleep.
His heart squeeze a little at the sight, "M'sorry, sweetheart." it was as if their bodies were magnets that they naturally found each other. Bucky opened his arms wide for her to find her rightful place in his embrace.
"It's okay" she mumbled against his sturdy chest. "Welcome home." She continued.
You'd be surprise to know how much the former winter soldier absolutely adore the feeling of her lips moving against his skin. Even if it was blocked by the fabric of his shirt. It always felt good and he swore he could not get enough of it.
Bucky leaned down on top of her head, inhaling the strawberry yogurt scent of her shampooed hair, "Yes. I am home, indeed." His hugged got tighter, crushing her just enough to make those pretty little sounds slipped her from lips.
Strings of hushed moan kept purring in her throat when Bucky lightly swayed her from side to side; his fleshed hand drawing invisible circles on the back of her waist, while his metal hand gently squeeze the back of her neck.
If she let him pamper her more than this, they'd probably forget that Sam was in the room. Unabashedly had his mouth agape at the sight in front of him. He was not sure whether he wanted to look away or to continue staring because no amount of explanation will suffice to answer his questions.
Peeking from Bucky's shoulder, she smiled warmly as she finally acknowledge the unexpected guest, "You must be Sam. I've heard a lot about you."
She tried to wiggle an escape from Bucky arms, but it was no avail; he was not planning to let her go any time soon. She ended up dragging the enormous koala bear who was stuck on her back as she offered Sam a handshake, introducing herself.
"Good things I hope." Sam took her hand and lightly shake it as she replied, "Of course." As much as he wanted to keep his eye contact with her, it was extremely hard when the grumpy super soldier that he knew was basically melting in crook of her neck.
"I don't want to be rude but the two of you are..." Sam purposely left his words hanging, hoping that one of them would finish the sentence before he let out his assumption, however both of them remained silent. The woman was blinking at him confused, while Bucky was practically still drooling over the her.
"...Lovers?" Sam ended his sentence with an uncertain tone.
Both of them went rigid to the question but before Bucky could say anything, she answered first, "No!" She almost shouted, taking a deep breath before she rephrase her answer, "No. I mean yes. We're not... like that."
"So, you guys are friends then?" Sam quirked an eyebrow to her answer, and seeing Bucky's silence, he guessed that the super soldier might liked her more than just 'friends'.
"Yup, we are. We first met when Bucky was on the run from Hydra, before you guys found him. It's a long story, really." And by the time she explained the shorten version of their story, Bucky finally drifted his attention to Sam, a deep frown decorated his brows as he was mentally asking, "How much longer are you going to stand there? Get the fuck out."
Sam should be offended by his silent orders but considering he came in the middle of the night, uninvited, he realized that he should leave them be,"Then, let that be a reason for us to meet again. You can tell me all about this meet-cute of yours later. I don't want to keep you away from him any longer. Especially when he is staring daggers at me."
She lightly tapped on Bucky's arms, and quick frown at him followed after as she non-verbally asking him stop glaring at Sam. Needless to say, Sam removed himself from the scene after they, or rather she, bid him goodbye.
As soon as the doors closed, Bucky has her back pressed against the door, wasting no time than to capture her lips. A gasped from her made it easy for him to slip his tongue inside. He kissed her slow yet so hungrily as if he was starved of the taste of her sweet mouth against his.
Bucky broke the kiss momentarily just to whisper, "I missed you so much, babydoll." With his thigh in between her legs, he guided her clothed core to slowly hump against him. "Missed you, too." Her beautiful moans only encourage his cock to swell even more than it already was.
Breaking the kiss, Bucky let her catch a breath as his glazed eyes adored her soft features. He still remembered the day when he first met her. When he escaped from Hydra's control, he was determined to keep his life down low. Don't attract to much attention, follow the schedule and stick to rules.
And his schedule was never interesting, it was always:
- write his journal entry
- find/do odd and non-permenant jobs for money
- grocery shopping and cooking
- watch the news
- and mostly just stay at home
Obviously, Bucky knows how to use the internet and all those modern devices that they have nowadays, but he never understand them; the 'social media' and the 'viral' things were never really appealing to him. So one day he decided to pay a visit to a small local library; hoping to find fimiliar solace in books instead.
What are the odds that both of them reach for the same book at the same time? After the multiple exchange of: 'Oh, I'm sorry, here take it.' 'No, you take.' 'No, please I insist.' They ended up meeting on a common ground; making a decision to sit down and read together. Turns out, spending a few hours with her at the library was the most peace he had since forever.
Bucky had a strict routine and rules. But the moment she asked him if he want to spend more time with her while she was there, he was ready to break all of it. And he did; for 7 days straight.
She was his first sense of freedom. His first choice in life.
Though, back then he was on a run, for presumably a lifetime, while she was on business trip for a week. So, they lost contact after that, especially when Bucky was running around with the Avengers and fighting aliens, but fate seemed to be on their side when they were reunited again in New York.
It's a miracle that she even recognized him. Little did he knew, he wasn't the only one who got hooked on the first few hours of that reading session had.
Though, he was extremely grateful that she reach out the moment she recognized him; no hesitant, no doubt. Just a confident and cheerful shout of his name in middle of the park that he walks through everyday.
The first thing that came out from her mouth after calling out his name was a compliment of his new hair cut and how she can see his beautiful eyes more clearer now. And that alone had made Bucky absolutely red in blush.
Weeks after that, she often joined him with his daily walk, making it their routine instead of just his. And months into this newly founded 'friendship', they found solace in each other's arms, comfort in each other's touch, and this quickly become their new favourite activity to do together.
Though none of them ever actually discuss their status but their body language suggest that they are more than just friends.
Especially with the way Bucky was rubbing the tip of his leaking cock on her clit; so desperate yet so gentle. Just like how he always does when he makes love to her. But, tonight he felt different. Maybe he was just needy or maybe it was the way she admit that they were not lovers when Sam asked about their relationship.
It was true. But, it felt so wrong.
"Am I just a friend to you, doll? Bucky leaned forward, his forehead met hers, his hot breath tickling her skin.
His tongue briefly passed in between his lips as he spreads her legs further, revealing her dripping cunt for his display, "Do your friends touch you like this, hmm?" His husky whisper as he rubbed his hardened length in between her slit, brushing against her clit.
"Do your friends kiss you all over like me?" She moaned breathily, as he bit and kiss the softness of her breasts; easily leaving his marks as if she was his to claim.
And without any warning, his cock slammed straight into her hole, stretching the walls to his size causing her to yelp in painful pleasure. Bucky let out a satisfied groan as the tightness of her around him, "Do your friends fuck this tight little pussy with their cock like me?"
Bucky couldn’t stop himself from pulling and pushing his hips to meet hers, his fingertips was practically digging into the flesh of her hips, moving her in time with his thrusts, "What am I to you, baby?" Honestly, it was hard for her to form complete thoughts, let alone reply to his question when he was fucking her so good.
Gone was the gentleman she knew for the past years, the koala bear that she spent hours on the couch cuddling to a movie marathon with. Now, there was only this feral beast, hungry for pleasure, insatiable to devour her whole body and soul.
Each roll of his hips pushed her further from her sober thoughts, focusing only on the wild look on his face, his huge body hunched over hers, his throbbing cock kissing her cervix. Any answer she was trying to convey was lost at the tip of her tongue; there were just the mewling mess, as she fell apart underneath him, compliant to his every thrust as his cock ramming within her. "Tell me. Come on, now. Use your words."
Bucky was almost losing his mind, from how bad he wanted to cum and how stubborn she was for not answering his questions. He pushed her legs up and wide as his thrust punctuated to his words, "What. Am. I. To. You?"
It took her a couple of long moans at his roughness, before she could utter a single word, the only correct answer to his question, "Mine."
He groaned approvingly, pulling back just enough to slide his metal between their bodies. "I'm yours?" Those hard, cold fingers that she loved so much was quick to find her clit. She was already sensitive from all the friction of his rutting, and now was he relentlessly assaulting the swollen nub, "Then, does that make you mine as well huh, sweetheart?"
"Yes, Bucky. You're mine. And I'm yours. All yours. Pleasee"
Her back arches off the bed, toes curling tight as her nails dug into his skin and across his back; To have some kind of a leverage to hold as the overwhelming pleasure surged through her body.
"Yeah, that's right, babygirl. You're mine and mine alone. Mine to love, mine to fuck. Yes?" Bucky taunted her with both his words and the way he rutted into her wet pussy, as if he himself was not close to the egde.
The sound of skin to skin clashing intertwined with the sounds of her pussy squelching around his cock, his girth kept pounding straight into her sweet spot to the point that only lewd whimpers of plead were spewing out of her lips, "Yes, yes yes. Oh Bucky please,, fuck,, I'm cumming!"
"Cum, sweetheart. Let me feel that tight little pussy of mine cum around my cock" He hummed approvingly as he picked a deeper and harsher pace, causing her mouth to fall wide open and her eyes screwed shut as she felt her whole body shook as she came. "Yeah,, that's it, doll. That's my girl. fuckkk,, feels so good baby, gonna make me cum inside you if you keep choking me like that."
"Please, Bucky?" A breathy moan of his name passed her lips as she her walls spasm with need. Bucky groan to the sensation, he was sure that her pussy was already full of his precum, considering how it has been leaking inside her for so long, "Want my cum in you, pretty girl?"
Batting her eyes through her lashes, she stared up at him, pleading., "Need it, please."
"Oh fuck, you got it, sweetheart." Throwing his head back in pleasure, shutting his eyes solely to focus of the feeling of her wet and tight cunt, Bucky's pace quicken as he chased his high, "Hmmm,, fuckk,, gonna stuff you full. You'll leaking for days, babydoll. Then, I'm gonna keep filling you until you can't live without my cum inside your pussy."
Hearing such dirty confessiom only triggers her to near orgasm, "Yess pleasee i want it. Need it, bucky." Surely enough she came again when he hit that special spot inside her.
"Ahh,, fuck ahhh,, I'm cumming shit pussy so good m'cumming fuckkkk", Bucky couldn’t even stop himself from rutting in and out of her sweet pussy as his cock pulsed, especially when her cunt was sucking him in deeper.
His head fall down to watch his cock disappear inside her before squeezing it shut again when the white spurt of cum shoots against her walls. His jaw was loose as his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape to allow his loud groans contaminated the silenced room.
His thick endless cum warm her insides and the honeyed moans hanging off her lips to its own accord as Bucky hunched over her frame, pressing his face in crook of her neck, breathing heavily as she was. After awhile, a broken sound of his voice stopped the silence, "Do you really mean it?"
He refused to look at her in the eyes, afraid of the rejection that might come his way but she proved him wrong by holding him by his cheeks, leading his eyes to align with hers,
"Bucky. You, my dear, are my bestfriend; you are my heart, you are my person. And there is no one in this world that I'd rather spend my whole life with besides you." Her words was nothing but the truth and Bucky knew that.
His heart swelled with joy yet he didn't know how to express it other than, "I love you, doll..." there was pause as if he was gathering the pieces of his soul to offer it to her, "...So much."
And she accepted it with her whole heart, "I love you too, Bucky."
End.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: I was gone for awhile but never too long. Hope you enjoy this little drabble 👀
#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#tfatws!bucky#bucky barnes smut#bucky smut
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Resuested by @outof-spite : was wondering if you could do a winchester bros & little sister! reader where theyve been arguing constantly lately, and reader is usually combative and always argues back but, this time shes just over the arguing so she just gives up trying to argue with them and kinda goes mute?
Warnings : family fights, yelling
Pairings : Sam/Dean Winchester x sister!reader
A/N : Sorry for the late postt ❤️❤️
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Things happen, right? Misunderstandings, judgement, reproaches and blame, all of them, the worst thing that could happen to a family, more importantly-right now-to yours.
Back from a hunt gone bad, you heavily lay in the backseat of the impala, your feet hung over the left window while your head rests over the opposite side of the car.
"Hey-get your feet off my damn leather." A complaint you've heard one too many times, and one you usually fight but- this time, as a sigh leaves your lips, you uncross your legs and bring them down, consequently lifting your upper body to sit up. An avertion from your side that's different from your usual habits, causing the car to fall into heavily loud silence.
And although it is loud with almost audible thoughts and anger, you still enjoy that while it lasts.
And it fucking doesn't last, in fact, just as soon as you entered the motel, another sentence commenced by Sam sent Dean into a fury, and just as things heated up, you found yourself in the middle of it all-again-
"Hey!!-" The shout is directed at you, this you know and choose to disguard. You would answer but- your body is fatigued and so is our mind, answering seems to lead to no vail. You answer, he fights you, you all go to sleep and wake up forcebly normalizing things, as if your throats aren't sore and your brains aren't fried.
"Hey-i'm talking to you-"
The words sound more bitter this time around, and you find yourself reluctantly lifting your gaze up . You look at Dean, slow and undetermined, exhausted.
"I asked you why you did that-You could've waited for us. I know you said there was no time le-" Dean pauses. "And fucking answer me when i talk to you-"
You shrug, causing a choking gasp out of Dean. His eyes widen and he leans forward. "Are you-Is she provok-are you-"
You throw your jacket over the bed, disdain discerned in your every move and you flop on the bed, unaware of the sudden tension that-again- suddenly settles in.
But the thing is--You don't care anymore. You haven't enough energy to get you to fight them once more, neither to explain or defend yourself. Too damn fucking tired is what you are at the moment-Too damn tired of it all.
"Kid?"
You rest your hand over your forehead, closing your eyes in an effort to soothe your aching muscles, and maybe suck in a little more patience.
"Kid."
Your stomach tightens and soon, you'll recess into a bawling mess, so you get off the bed and pick up your jacket.
Please don't lead to another fight, please..You just want it all to be ov-
"What's wrong?"
You shrug once more, shaking your head to motion that all is fine before heading for the door. But Sam comes your way, blocking the door and you blow a long sigh.
"Come here"
Sam grips both of your arms and swiftly-you find yourself glued to his chest. But all happens all too fast-why would he suddenly get all feely- and before you even realize it, you find yourself pushing against him.
"'im sorry-i'm sorry."
A lump builds up in your throat and as flashes of the past few weeks occupy every single space in your brain, your breathing increases-just as it gets harder to breathe. Just the thought of it all_
Your eyes are slowly flooded with warmth, announcing the tears gathering at your eyes. You need to leave. You need to go.
You choke on a sob.
You can't do this anym- "I know, honey. I've been there. I know." And with that, another sob loudly escapes your throat and a whimper follows.
"i've been there with Dad, i didn't realize we were doing that to you-i'm sorry. I see you. I really am sorry."
You shake your head as your cries fill the room, getting increasingly louder the harder Sam rubs your back. But that's not what you need. Not for them to see you-but for them to fucking stop.
"We'll stop. We'll talk. I promise."
You pull away from him, skeptical of a promise you doubt he can hold. And just as you're about to process that, Dean speaks.
"I'm sorry too." His honest tone makes you sigh. This isn't.what.i.want.
"Sam and i are sort've used to it- we lost sight of the fact that it wasn't affecting just us, but you as well. I really am sorry." Sam looks into your eyes and you slightly lean back, averting your gaze.
"It must've been really stresstful for you the past few weeks." Taken aback by his words, you pull your chin away from his hand and turn around, wiping at your tears before resting your hand against your forehead.
"we're sorry, kid."
You shrug, still mistrusftul. Mistrustful but hopeful. Because Sam and Dean are different, fights and bad things might accure but no matter how disconnected from each other they might be, they always come back to each other. And you are no different. You know them well enough.
Your silence is apprehended as anger. "Okay..We understand, we'll leave."
But it's not anger and it's most certainly not hatred. So you envelop Sam again and bury your face in his chest.
Maybe that'll be enough for him to understand?
His surprise manifests through his still figure. "Thank you, honey." That surprise quickly dissipates and he hugs you back. "It..."
"it's going to be okay, honey. We'll make it okay."
------
I hope it isn't too cringe or too cliché because like-who would say sorry in under a minute. But yeah anyway much love sorry byyiii 🍁🍁🍁❤️❤️❤️
#sister!reader#sibling fic#sister x brothers#winchester sister#daughter x father#dean winchester x sister#dean winchester x sister!reader#adoptive father troop#daughter!reader#father figure fic#sam winchester x sister!reader#sam winchester x sister#sam winchester x sister reader#baby winchester#sister reader#sister fic#spn fics#protective brothers#overprotective brothers
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... what the future holds ...
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
Summary: One look at Maggie's ultrasound picture is enough to question your future - and Daryl's...
Warnings: fluff, suggestive smut (it gets really spicy), talks of babies
Set in Season 6!
Word Count: 1,4k
a/n: Lil' story is done! This was planned to be a drabble, but well... 😆 I love how it turned out, though!
Right up your alley, @dixons-sunshine ? 🤗
Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist °☆• Echoes of Hope Masterlist
The van jolted softly underneath your body, as you leaned against Daryl, who was sitting beside you; head resting against his shoulder. You were on the verge of sleeping in, when he suddenly gently squeezed your upper arm with the hand he had wrapped around your shoulders. Tiredly, you lifted your head and looked up to him; blinking. Daryl didn't say a word and just nodded at his hand, who held out a little quadratic picture to you.
Sitting up a bit, you took from Daryl's whatever it was he was handing you. Since you had been on the threshold to dreamland, your brain needed a moment to catch up and grasp what you were looking at...
It was an ultrasound picture.
Lifting your gaze, you were met with a smile from Glenn, who sat opposite you. You couldn't help but to smile back at your friend, before you took another proper look at the picture - at the future. You positively couldn't wait for another wonder after Judith to join the big family everybody had grown into. Sure, the world was dangerous, but had it ever not been dangerous? Of course in different kinds of ways, but nevertheless...
You ran your thumb over the picture; so engrossed in the miracle you were looking at, that you didn't notice Daryl watching you. He saw the never-ceasing smile on your lips. The happiness radiating off of you. The shimmer in your eyes - and perhaps, the archer had detected something else... Longing. Something that threw him quite a bit off track and caused his heartbeat to quicken.
You took a last look on the precious, life-changing picture and handed it on to Abraham, who took it from you with a small smile himself. Then you slid back into Daryl's embrace; resting you head against his shoulder once more. This time, though, you were facing him with a smile. One corner of your boyfriend's mouth twitched up into a soft smile as well.
Words were never exchanged. He just gave you another squeeze and pulled you closer.
The first word you spoke with each other was that night after the meeting Rick had convened. It was already quite late; almost midnight.
You were laying in bed and reading a book; secretly watching Daryl undress. He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped out of his shoes and jeans with a grunt - and you noticed immediately that the feeling you already harboured in the church was resurfacing... Something was on his mind. You just couldn't pinpoint what it was – yet...
Once undressed to his black underpants, he slipped inside the bed and underneath the sheets; making himself comfortable beside you on his back, hands crossed behind his head and eyes directed at the ceiling.
You watched him for another moment in silence, before you decided to make your move. Putting the book aside, you slowly inched closer and placed a hand on his cheek; letting his scruff tickle your palm, as you propped your chin up on his biceps. "Daryl... What's bothering you, huh? Tell me." "Nothin'. 'S jus'..." The archer shook his head slightly, before his blue-grey eyes settled on yours. "I... I saw the way yer were lookin' at tha' picture..."
You frowned a little bewildered. "You mean Maggie's ultrasound picture?" Daryl nodded; chewing on his lower lip. You raised an eyebrow and smiled softly. "Why? How was I looking at the picture?" You saw the love of your life swallowing hard; trying to scrape all his bravery together and say the word out loud.
"Longingly. Ya looked at tha' picture longingly, 'n..." He stopped to take a deep breath. "N now I ain't gettin' that damn thought outta ma head." "Which thought?" You asked as you gazed deeply into his eyes; trying to read him.
"Tha'... Tha' yer might, uh, wan' this, too..." The archer finally said; gnawing on his thumb now. "I-I mean settlin' down, 'n, uh... Start a family..." His voice was barely above a whisper and his cheeks held a deep crimson colour. He avoided your eyes; breaking eye contact.
As for you, you felt like your heart had just skipped several beats. Not just one... "Wha'?" You almost croaked out. "Y-You mean... Having a-a baby?" Daryl nodded hesitatingly. "Yeah, uh, would ya... Would ya wan' tha'?" "Would you?" You shot immediately back; not answering his question.
Once again was the man biting his lip; the gears in his head turning - you could tell. After a long moment of silence, he shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Dunno, darlin'. I... 'M not exactly daddy material, ya know. 'S not in ma nature. Didn't have a good role model after all..." "I have to stop you right here, Dar..." You shook your head and moved to prop yourself up on your elbow; palm gliding from Daryl's cheek, down his neck and stopping on his chest. "You haven't noticed, have you?"
The archer blinked; clearly not following your words. "Notice wha'?"
A soft smile spread over your face. "How good you are with Judith. How sweet and caring. You're perfect daddy material, Dar... In my opinion anyways."
Daryl said nothing, was apparently speechless. He just looked at you for an seemingly endless moment, before he found his voice again. "Ya never answered ma question, Y/N..." He whispered. "Would ya wan' tha'?" Your eyelids fluttered as a blush crept on your cheeks. "I-I... Yes. I always... wanted kids." Your boyfriend swallowed hard; deft, calloused fingers scratching his goatee covered chin. "A'right, lemme rephrase tha'..." He said and took a deep breath; voice trembling slightly. "Would ya... Would ya wan' tha' with... with me?"
Once again tugged a smile at the corners of your mouth; your eyes gazing deeply into Daryl's as your fingertips gently caressed the skin on his chest. "Daryl... I wouldn't want that with any other man in this world. Only you. There has always been only you." "Yeah?" Daryl croaked out. "Ya ain't jus' sayin' that so I dun feel bad?" You couldn't help but giggle and shake your head again. "No, you sweet idiot. I'm not. I really would want that with you. I love you, Daryl."
The archer lifted a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear; the other landing on your hip. "Yeah, I love ya, too." You smiled and dipped your head to slot your lips perfectly against his; kissing him leisurely. Only a few seconds passed, before Daryl's other hand travelled to your hips as well; biceps bulging softly as he pulled you closer, until you ended up on top of him. Both bare legs straddling his sides and lips still connected.
Soon enough started Daryl's hands to wander once more and slipped underneath your sleep t-shirt; feeling your soft skin underneath his palms - and that was the moment you pulled back from the kiss, before this went any further.
The archer's hands immediately stilled on your ribs; mere inches away from the swell of your breasts as you silently stopped this. Blue-grey eyes looked up at you; clouded with desire, love, worry and a touch of insecurity. "Everythin' a'righ', darlin'?" Daryl's husky voice urged to your ears. You nodded and twisted your bottom lip between your teeth, as you sat back on your heels - and Daryl's crotch, which caused a low grunt to escape his lips, alongside a muttered curse. "Damnit, woman..." "You never answered my question either, Dar," you prompted; completely ignoring the obvious and instead tracing the tattoos on his chest with the tip of your pointer finger. "Would you want to start a family? With me?"
The man underneath you clearly had a hard time focusing and setting his thoughts straight, but once he did, another soft blush spread across his cheeks. "W-Well, if, uh, if tha's somethin' ya wish for, I-" You shook your head and pressed your pointer finger against his lips; shushing him. "Uh.Uh. I asked what you want. This isn't just about me."
Daryl just looked at you again, then started to nod softly. "I won't lie to ya, darlin'... The mere thought of becomin' a daddy scares the shit outta me, but... Yeah... Yeah, I can imagine startin' a family with ya." "You sure about that, Dar? You don't just say that to please me?" You teased him, just like he did earlier. The archer just scoffed. "Nah. I mean it." You couldn't help but giggle and lean down to kiss his nose - what interpreted the archer as an invitation to catch your lips with his.
Daryl smiled; fingertips starting to map out the dips and curves of you body once again. When he reached the back of your bare calves, he stopped and gently nudged his nose against yours; breaking the kiss you shared. "Does tha' mean we, uh, start tryin' for a baby now?" You shrugged your shoulders and gave his sides a little squeeze with your legs. "You tell me."
Tags: @celtic-crossbow @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @mischief-dream @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @sweetz1919 @0-aubrie0 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @stiveroon @cakesandtom
#daryl dixon#the walking dead#the walking dead daryl dixon#daryl dixon fan fiction#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon x reader smut#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl dixon imagine#twd#twd fanfiction#twd fic#the walking dead fanfiction#the walking dead fanfic#the walking dead fic
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replaying some of mwii and price saying "slow and steady" has given me price teaching babysitter!reader how to suck cock brain worms
cw: oral/handjob (reader giving), Virgin/inexperienced! reader, implied age gap, facial, corruption kink if you squint, gn!reader
you're so fucking inexperienced, it almost makes him feel bad for getting as hard as he does when you look at him with those pretty eyes. you look at him with trust and admiration, his baby on your hip making it even worse. he wants to grab you, kiss you, manhandle you, fucking hell, if he could he'd press you face down into his pillow and take your innocence right then and there. but he had to go to some spontaneous meeting, he had to fucking leave you. he stays strong, smiling at you and ruffling your hair as he leaves. "behave, yea? both of ya." he says with a wink, your giggle making his cock twitch.
once in the car and on the road he's really debating jacking off so he doesn't have to go into the meeting with a boner, maybe it would even help him later so he doesn't get painfully hard the moment you say hi to him when he's back. he ultimately decides against it, he's a grown man for fucks sake, he needs to control himself. so he goes through the meeting, it gives him some distraction, at least until he's back in the car. it's already dark when he's coming back, quietly unlocking the door. he prays you're asleep so he can just put a blanket over you and let you sleep, but you're awake. you smile brightly as he comes in, a soft "hi Mr. Price!" coming from your lips.
"John." he corrects in a stern but gentle voice, taking off his jacket, it makes you chuckle.
"I'm sorry, John." you say in a teasing tone, sometimes he wonders if you really are this innocent or if you just act like it. but god, if he wasnt as stressed as he was from the god damn meeting his cock would already be hard again. he just sighs and drops on the couch next to you, head fallen back and body slack. you tilt your head with a frown. "whats wrong?" the words make his heart flutter.
"just stressed, is all. dont worry your little head, love." he murmurs, reaching out to gently pat you on the head. you hum a bit.
"is there anything i can do to help you relax?" you ask, his mind immediately down the gutter. he suddenly wants to tell you all the nasty things he wants to do to you, shove your face into his crotch to make you nuzzle his cock, but he just stares at the ceiling for what feels like hours before looking at you. he opens his mouth to speak, but the look on your face makes him stop. your eyes are wide and glued to the bulge in his jeans, your mouth hanging open. his cheeks turn pink in embarrassment, he fumbles with his words.
"bloody hell - fuck, 'm sorry, I-" he pauses as he looks at your face properly. the shock isnt mixed with disgust as he initially thought, oh no. it's the opposite. you look curious, almost intrigued. he holds his breath as you make eye contact, then asks quietly. "do you want to help?" he asks, voice low and husky, filled with anticipation and a bit of fear of rejection. "you don't have to, if you don't wanna." he says gently, making sure you don't feel forced.
"i.. I never.. did anything.." is all you can get out, voice tinged with embarrassment. despite already being very sure you're a Virgin he's still mildly surprised to hear you say it, eyebrows raising a bit.
"I can teach ya. if you want." you hesitate for just a second before nodding, his heart skips a beat.
"okay.." you say softly. he has to take a moment before he nods softly, hands going to his belt and trying to not just rip it open.
"I'll just show you, so you can get familiar with him, yea? if you wanna stop at any point you tell me. understood?" his tone is serious, he waits until you nod before letting his fat cock spring free, slipping his pants and underwear down just enough so you see his heavy balls. your face heats up, mouth dropping open again as you stare at it, the tight balls, the angry, red tip, all have been begging for release for hours, and finally they'll get it. he waits until you seem a bit more composed before reaching his hand to you. "gimme your hand darling." he orders gently, you put your hand into his. your skin feels like heaven under his calloused fingers, even better as he wraps it around his trembling cock. he groans, squeezing your hand as he holds it in place; your fingers can't even fully wrap around it. it twitches eagerly, tip weeping as he guides your hand up and down slowly. low moans escape his lips, eyes lidded as he holds back. "you okay bird?" he pants, his voice a bit more rough than usual.
you nod, your trembling hand slowly moving at your own pace, watching intently. it makes him chuckle, letting go of your hand and putting it on your head, petting you as a silent praise. "doin well, love. keep going for me, yea?" he murmurs, you nod again. his tip starts leaking precum, you bite your lip. "don't do that. your lips are so pretty darlin." he frowns, his own words burning the image of your lips wrapped around his dick into his brain. he hesitates before speaking again.
"want to try sucking it?" he asks gently, your eyes widen. you hesitate again, his hand cups your cheek softly. "don't worry. I'll help ya."
"..okay." you say, taking a breath. his hand slides to the back of your head, guiding you closer - kissing your forehead before guiding you down.
"open your mouth nice and wide. watch your teeth." you open up wide, tongue sticking out a bit, he guides you down just so the tip is in your mouth. "wrap your lips around it." you follow his order and he groans, straining to not cum right this second. he takes a breath before speaking again. "now suck a bit. start gently and slowly do more. run your tongue over it too." he instructs in a soft murmur. "it might taste a little funny." you suck softly and lick the tip, making a face and pulling back. he laughs, patting your head softly. "I warned you darling. that bad?" he grins as you lick your lips.
"no... just.. surprised me.." you admit in embarrassment, taking a deep breath before dipping your head and trying again. this time you don't pull back, John's hand rests on the back of your head as he breaths heavily.
"good job, sweetheart... thinking you can try bobbing ya head a bit?" his jaw is slack, eyes rolled back when you actually do it - way too fast and too deep for your first time. as much as he loves the feeling of his tip hitting the back of your throat, the immediate gag and your face scrunching up in discomfort break his heart. he grabs your head firmly but not roughly, pulling your head up just enough to make you look at him. "don't do that. who taught you that?" he asks sternly, you shrink a bit under his gaze.
he hums. "try again. do it slow and steady." he says lowly, the tone making you shiver. you nod softly, letting him push you down much, much slower, letting him guide your head as your lips wrap around his cock again. "there we go. just like that, bird." he groans, already closer than he wants to be. he slowly guides it deeper into your warm mouth, your adorable attempts at using your tongue making his tip leak again. it doesn't take long before his hips stutter. "fuck... gonna cum, angel..- " he grunts, voice strained as he pulls you back, free hand wrapping around the base of his cock to steady himself as he cums all over your face. you gasp loudly, eyes shut tied and mouth open in shock as the warm, sticky liquid hits your skin. his moans quickly turn into chuckle as he sees the state of you. "aw, sweetheart, are you alright?" he cackles, shaking his head.
still chuckling he reaches to the coffee table and grabs a tissue, wiping your face off quickly before pulling you to his chest, kissing your head. "there you are, good job darlin. you okay?" he asks again, rubbing your back as you nod. "good... I'll get you a cup of water."
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@captainchrisstan @maplewhisk
#i need him bad#writing this drunk and eepy#goodnight folks#gothghostiie#babysitter!reader#dad!price#cod mw#cod mw2#cod mwii#call of duty#cod#cod mw3#cod mwiii#john price#John price x reader#price x reader#price#captain john price#captain price#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#cod price#price cod
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Carpe Diem | Michael Gavey x fem!reader
Summary: After himself being ditched by Oliver, they meet once again. Both seemingly skirting around what happened in the Common Room when they last saw one another. | Word Count: 5.1k~ (oops) | Warnings below the cut!
Part One: Quid Pro Quo Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici
warnings: virgin michael, oral sex (f receiving), fingering
A/N: I feel...like the word count is overboard but FUCK IT it's my blog 😈
“Greek and Latin both belong to the Indo-European language family, which does not necessarily mean they are similar. The branches are totally different. Whereas Latin belongs to the Romance branch, Greek belongs to the…”
She half-listens to the lecture, caught between Professor Wardon’s monotone ramblings and scribbling whatever bits and pieces she can string together in swirly handwriting, trying to ignore Trevor two rows in front of her, typing loudly on his brand new Macbook that he no doubt got from his well-off parents for Christmas.
Pencil and paper for the peasants, she thinks bitterly.
The laptop she has back in her dorm is clunky, too thick for carrying in her bag, and any notes she makes now will have to be typed up meticulously later. She supposes it’s a good way of getting the information to be irreparably printed into her brain though. That’s the only thing keeping her from going insane.
Which is where she finds herself now, in the wee hours of the morning, her fingers so tired and eyes so strained she feels that all the letters and characters are beginning to merge together.
She's just about to close the damn thing when a notification blares in the bottom right corner of her screen.
‘m_gav_314159265359 is now online’
She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh at the username, it makes her giggle every time. Of course his username is fucking Pi.
After their little ‘happening’ in the Common Room, they'd talked for a bit over MSN, sometimes texting when she had enough credit and even more rarely meeting up at Trinity College campus. Their timetables never seemed to line up very often, so their meetings were quick and over before they could even get settled into really getting to know each other.
It felt strange to have done something so exciting and yet not really know someone.
The memory made her blush. She was never usually that impulsive and brazen. But she didn't regret it.
Everytime Michael saw her, his cheeks flushed almost without her even needing to try. And it felt nice to see someone act like that in her presence.
After lectures had started after Christmas into the New Year and then into Spring, she found herself somewhat self-conscious. Second guessing herself. Wondering if the freedom and calmness of the holiday period had given him a new sense of clarity.
After all, he'd not spoken to her once since lectures had started again.
A heaviness weighed in her chest, bitterly like rejection.
Maybe she was delirious from the time of night, but she felt a surge of courage, desperately wanting to just know if this was going to be more or not.
She felt her cheeks heat somewhat, rubbing the backs of her knuckles against her lips. There was no time to reply before he sent another.
And if what he'd said before didn't make her face burn, that certainly did. She nearly smirked when she thought to herself, 'you mean when I sucked you off in the Common Room?'
But she didn't type that. She decided to have mercy on him, if only a little.
His replies were so blunt and to the point that they were so quintessentially Michael. She found herself wondering if what he'd typed before had been for the intention of making her blush, but she doubted it. He seemed the type to be somewhat oblivious to how words could affect the opposite sex.
Or anything to do with the opposite sex for that matter.
Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she typed off a few quick goodbyes and with a soft, plastic tap, shut her laptop for the night.
“There are no fit guys in my class this semester, fucking livid,” Priya rolls her eyes, nursing a stale pint and a cigarette.
“Did you really expect Modern Languages to be teeming with attractive men?” She smirks in response.
“No. But I at least expected a good shag within the first three months.”
“Does they have to be within our course?”
“No, course not. I'm not lazy as fuck. Can’t be arsed to go off campus.”
She laughs, waving the smoke trail that's formed between their faces, the smell of cigarettes and damp, beer-soaked carpets fill her senses, nursing the only pint she's capable of downing.
“Don't shit where you eat, Priya.”
“Don't you fuckin’ start,” she grins with all her perfect teeth before checking her phone, “fuck, is that the time. Sorry mate you've got like half your pint left-”
“Don't be silly, just go. Whoever you're meeting is bound to have a bigger cock than me anyway.”
“You're a nasty bitch, you know that?” she smiles, standing and pulling her mini-skirt down, “see you later? Catch up?”
“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Have fun!”
“Oh I will!”
She smiles, sipping the stale beer as Priya rushes out the door excitedly tapping the keypads on her phone in reply to a guy no-doubt, nearly running right into a lamppost.
She pulled out her own phone, spotting a new message from the ex-boyfriend she hadn’t heard a peep out of since Freshers Week, groaning with a displeased expression at the first few lines of text that read as if he were desperate. Even over the crackling sound of the speakers and Daniel Powter’s ‘Bad Day’ lulling quietly through the pub, she was still sensitive to the sound of his voice.
“-get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.”
She had to crane her neck, half-swivelled on her chair, but it was undoubtedly him. Only one person had that hissy, direct way of speaking, had dirty, blonde hair that touched the nape of his neck and was likely to wear such an…interesting selection of clothes.
Her mouth was barely open before she realised it was Michael, and by then he was too far away to shout from across a busy pub. She found herself with a sort of stupid grin, watching him walk with such a lanky gait, as if walking were an inhuman thing for him to do.
It took her a few moments to text back a reply to her ex before she looked up again, eyebrows furrowed when she saw that whoever Michael had been with, was now umming and ahhing about whether to join the popular lot, for which she recognised Felix Catton amongst them, shockingly ill-dressed in a ‘what happens in Kassiopi stays in Kassiopi’ t-shirt, with a cigarette between his lips that had been inhaled to a nub.
She grimaced. Only rich people could dress so fucking shocking.
And then her heart leapt in a different way when she saw Michael look distantly at Oliver, his hand half-raised in an awkward wave, his face crumbling in a way where she knew he was disappointed and yet, not surprised in the slightest.
It was when Michael pushed his glasses up his nose in a way she couldn’t help but find sweet and go for the door, that she slipped from the stool she was on, a quarter of her pint left, and took off after him.
“Michael!”
The late winter air nipped at her skin, cursing internally that his legs were so fucking long he could stride a hell of a lot further than her.
“Michael!”
It wasn’t hard to see the glint of his glasses lenses off the streetlights once he’d turned to face her, his lips parted in surprise and a heat rising to his cheeks.
He swallowed visibly, “H-hey..”
She felt her own heart rattle in her chest at how easy it was to fluster him, “Hey, you alright?”
For a moment, the self-proclaimed mathematical genius seemed genuinely lost for words, his throat closing up on him like he was having a sort of allergic reaction to the opposite sex. So with all that, he simply nodded, his hands clenched as if not knowing what to do with them.
“Sorry about your mate, that was a shitty thing to do.”
“Oh, he’s…he’s not my mate.”
She nodded, rubbing her hands together to warm them from the chill, “d’you wanna go somewhere?”
Michael’s eyes behind his glasses widened, “like…together?”
“No, I’ll make you go off on your own,” she grinned, “yes together!”
He huffed an embarrassed but elated laugh, and only now her eyes studied his shirt, cocking her head in amusement at the ‘that’s how I roll’ shirt with what looked like a maths equation beneath it. The actual meaning was lost on her, but it was so dorky it made her smile.
“U-uh, my mum bought it me for Christmas...” he muttered quickly to which she cracked an even bigger smile, the two of them laughing quietly for a moment before he spoke up again.
“Do you wanna come to mine?” he asked, and it was so direct it made her blink, her lungs feeling as if they were fluttering, “I mean-my dorm.”
She wet her lips from the dry cold, watching how nervous and twitchy he was. And how it reminded her of the last time they were alone together.
“Like…catch up or something. I-I’ve got alcohol if you-”
“That’d be lovely, Michael.”
He at least seemed grateful that she’d actually replied to save him from rambling, and even cracked a thin-lipped smile himself, clearly and delightfully nervous. Thirty-minutes ago, he’d have never considered this to be the ending to his evening.
Michael’s room is disturbingly tidy, she wonders if he actually even lives here. It’s like those university rooms that they take photos of to advertise the ‘spacious’ and ‘community-driven’ atmosphere of campus life.
At least it was clean, she mused as Michael passed her a bottle of the only alcohol he had, which were lukewarm WKDs.
“Thanks,” she smiles, taking a sugary sip and looking about the room. Michael has since cracked open his own drink, but seems disinterested in it as it rests on his bouncing knee, looking up at her from where he’s sat on his desk chair from under his brow.
His laptop sits shut, pencils in a neat line next to it. His walls are bare, with what she can only assume are blue tack marks from the previous tenant’s last year. With the exception of a wall-mounted calendar next to his desk.
“No posters? Was hoping I could be nosy, see what you like.”
When she turns back to Michael he quickly looks down as if not wanting to be caught staring, “It’d just be maths stuff.”
“And Carol Vorderman?” she teases mindlessly, not catching the way his cheeks go alight.
She hums an amused laugh behind the bottle at her lips, “It’s very tidy.”
When he just replies with a shrug, she scoots off the bed to have a roam about the place, needing only a few steps to cross the room to his bookcase, filled to the brim neatly with books. She runs her finger along some of the spines.
“You’re not going to mess anything up are you?”
She laughs, coming out more of a snort, which makes her cheeks warm, “Sorry. Just curious about your books. ‘Mathematics of Language. Sounds like a bit of me and you.”
There’s that flush again.
That deer in the headlights look.
“Uh…just sounded interesting.”
��And is it?”
“Is it what?”
She smirks, “interesting.”
There’s a silence that for a moment neither of them are able to shake.
Michael swallows visibly, “don’t know yet..”
She sees something in his expression when a playful smile lifts across her face, suddenly the memories and implications of what they’d done before now weighing heavily on them. And all at once, he’s able to smell the body scrub she’d used in the shower that morning and eyes flitting to the glint of her stud earrings. He’d remembered brushing past them with his fingers when her mouth wrapped around his-
“And who says you’re not a languages man?” she presses with a teasing lilt to her voice. The tone and sing-songy nature of her voice has his heart doing backflips, feeling as if he could feel the erratic beating between his ribs.
Michael seems stuck in the position he finds himself as she lazily crosses the room, slipping back on his bed, one hand brushing across his bedsheets and the other setting the drink on his bedside table. For a long moment, his eyes couldn’t leave her. The whole situation was suitably extraordinary. A girl who had come onto him (to say the least) was now in his room, sat on his bed, touching his things…all while wearing something he personally deemed unsuitable for the cold, a dress with black tights beneath.
She turns her head to him, smiling, “you seem nervous.”
He swallows, trying to claw at any sort of reply, “is that an accusation?”
It comes out a bit harsher than he probably expected, but instead of recoiling, she bites her lip as if to stifle a full-toothed grin, “an observation.”
He shrugs, “just never had a girl in here before.”
“Worried I’ll mess up your feng shui?”
“My what?”
She genuinely laughs at that, nearly smacking her head on the bed frame, but a hearty chuckle all the same. And Michael doesn’t know why his own cheeks start to heat up at that, taking this opportunity that her eyes are shut to look down at her legs. For some reason, making her laugh just makes him want to try more.
He’s never had that feeling before. Wanting to make someone laugh.
“No, really, my what.”
She meets his eyes brightly with her own, “feng shui, it’s like…the vibe of a room, a space. Like, how you place your furniture or whatever.”
Michael raises a brow, his lip quirking on one side, “sounds like bullshit.”
“It probably is.” she laughs.
“Can I ask you something?”
The quick u-turn and tone in conversation has her eyes meet his nervously, her interest and curiosity piqued. Her hands find themselves nervously stroking her legs, the texture of the tights providing some level of comfort, “yeah sure.”
She can't quite figure out what expression he's trying to put on. His brows are furrowed in judgement and a curious sense of guarding himself. And yet he's sat back in his seat, looking at her like he is trying to figure her out, and yet wants to know why she is the way she is.
“Why did you do that?”
She blinks at the accusatory and monotone rhythm of his way of speaking.
“Do what.”
“Don't play stupid. Doesn't suit you.”
She nearly scoffs at that, “what? Why have you gone all weird all of a sudden?”
“Why did you do…that at the Christmas party?”
She shrugs and shakes her head, as if the answer should be obvious, “because I wanted to? And you didn't seem to mind either.”
“I didn't-that's not the point!” he retorts, “are you genuinely taking the mick out of me?”
“You've asked that before and no.”
“Well why then?”
“Is it not enough to really think that I find you interesting? And nice to talk to?”
Of all the things she expected Michael Gavey to go quiet at, it certainly wasn't that. But she watches him all the same, the line between his brow slowly disappearing as his frown vanishes.
She cocks her head, “and not bad looking either.”
“Stop it.”
“I mean it!”
“Nobody wants the fucking maths virgin-”
“Michael. I don't give a fuck about that,” she says calmly, “Hell, I was a virgin not that long ago. You keep saying ‘nobody wants the virgin’ but you can't keep using that as an excuse just because you're embarrassed you haven't done anything.”
He sighs, like he doesn't want to believe her. And she can hardly believe how self-deprecating and yet direct this man can be in a single breath.
“Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I can always go-”
Almost as soon as she is stood, he is too, one large hand wrapped around her forearm, “No.”
They've been sat so long, she had almost forgotten how tall he was, and the difference between them briefly has her tummy doing back flips. From here, she is able to smell whatever body wash he uses, and if she had to guess, probably blue radox.
“No, I didn't say I wanted you to go. Stay…”
He doesn't say ‘please’ once, and yet she's able to hear the desperation.
When she doesn't move, his grip loosens, and she feels tingly all over when his hand slides up her arm.
“Can I kiss you again like last time?”
She almost smiles in adoration at how he asks it, but for the sake of saving him the embarrassment of thinking she's laughing at him, settles for a simple and gentle nod of her head. She is sure she's not really thought it through. Weighing up the pros and cons isn't exactly the first thing on her mind right now though as Michael has to bend significantly to crash his lips to hers.
Much like last time, he is a bit endearingly clumsy, his lips moving quickly on hers like he's running a race with his mouth. This time there is no pool table for him to cage her against, but all the same his legs take him forwards until her knees hit the edge of his bed.
By the time he is on top of her, she's managed to weave her fingers through his hair, her nose nudging against his glasses every now and then, and guiding him with her own movements to slow down and enjoy the moment, with no need to rush.
She knows that secretly he's probably just excited.
But this time, his hands are extremely active.
She's unable to help the breathy whimper between desperate kisses as he tentatively squeezes her thighs, not quite brave enough to go beneath the dress yet and drifting upwards to her breasts, touching and clutching fondly, as if any harsh grip or movement and she'll get up and leave.
He's still unsure, maybe even nervous, she can feel it.
It's here she realises that whether he is doing it subconsciously or not, she can feel the strained bulge at the front of his trousers rubbing up against the inside of her leg, probably chasing friction that feels too good for him to feel lucid.
“Can I see you…” he asks as his lips break away.
She doesn't even reply, she just complies, pulling the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders and the bra straps along with it. The position she's in making it near impossible to reach behind her.
If she could print his face in her mind as she pulled her dress down to her ribs, she would. He looks entirely mesmerised in adoration, and once the only thing covering her breasts is the thin material of her bra, Michael looks at her with an almost dream-like gaze.
His hand moves before his mouth, or at least before he catches himself, “Is it oka-”
“Course..” she says far too quickly.
All she can hear as Michael pulls the thin straps of her bra fully down her arms, exposing her breasts, is his breath, staggered and uneven. His hand easily covers one of her breasts, squeezing experimentally, his thumb gently drifting over her nipple and watching them stiffen to needy buds.
She doesn’t need to look between them to see how hard he is, she can feel him against her thigh, where her dress has since ridden up to her hips.
His glasses knock against her chest as he leans down, all-too-carefully covering her nipple with his tongue, like he is trying to print the taste of them to memory.
There is an unconscious desire to press her thighs together, but she settles for rolling her hips, causing Michael’s voice to rumble against her chest where he mouths at her breasts. One hand forever stays at the one he isn’t paying lip service to, testing the weight and shape in his palms.
It feels like all sensitivity has been turned up to 1000. He is so slow, so unsure, that every languid movement has every nerve feel as if it’s on fire. A selfish part of her wants him to go faster, so used to the fervent, almost rushing nature of who she’d been with before. It was never like this, borderline worshipping.
“Michael…” she breathes, rolling her hips against him experimentally, rewarded with a low whine from him.
She watched as her nipple slips from his lips in the most erotic manner she’d ever seen, before his clear eyes are on her again.
“Is this okay? Am I doing something wr-”
“No,” she shakes her head quickly, “feels nice.”
Michael licks his lips, a sign of how nervous he is, “Can I do something else?”
He is so eager to please, to learn, that looking at his face as he asks she can hardly deny him. And her head moves without effort, nodding as she watches his hand disappear beneath the hem of her dress to pull her tights down her legs.
It then becomes obvious what he wants to do.
“Are you sure, I-”
“I’m sure.” he adds, rolling the black nylon down her legs until all that is left between Michael and her bare skin below her hips, is her underwear. A flush of embarrassment engulfs her face at the thought of how aroused she might be, knowing he has no experience, she doesn’t want to scare him off. The tender and yet needy way he’d mouthed at her breasts had her body all warm, and she can’t remember the last time she’d been this ready for anything.
“I just want to do the same for you as you did for me. Make you feel good.”
And that certainly doesn’t help that feeling either.
She’s not sure if she will get tired of the sight of his long, lithe fingers gripping her thighs apart, and for a moment she finds herself entranced by the view, until he is pressing sweet kisses to the inside of them. Open-mouthed, with an addictive cooling sensation when he pulls away, only to edge closer to the centre of her underwear.
Her breath remains stuck in her chest as she watches him navigate the female body, mapping it out in his head. She knows better than to say anything, knowing him as she does now, he is immensely competitive, and wants to get things right. It’s likely if she stepped in to instruct him, it would only embarrass him more. So she stays quiet, and lets him come to her.
His thumb dips beneath the leg hole of her underwear, “Can I?”
She swallows visibly, now for some reason it’s her being the nervous one. Possibly because the first time, it was her doing something for him. And now, it is very much the feeling of being studied, of being watched to see what made her tick. A feeling that has her desperate for some kind of fulfilment. Anything.
She lifts her hips to help him slide her underwear down her legs, her cheeks warming at being so utterly exposed to him herself for the first time. There is a finality to it that she just can’t quite put into words. A point of no return.
A full body shudder made its way through her when she felt his thumb trail across the spot where her leg met her hip, trailing the line there that led to her sensitive womanhood.
Michael looked as if he was being presented with an equation, she could practically hear the thoughts in his head. But beyond not entirely knowing what to do, it didn't dissuade his curiosity.
She could tell though, that he didn't know what to do.
Michael nearly flinched when she took his hand, encouraging his thumb to touch her bundle nerves hidden between her folds.
She watched him as his thumb cautiously collected the wetness that had begun to come out of her and used it to gently apply pressure to her clit. Breath was hot in her chest as he started slowly.
“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.
As soon as she nodded, confirming how pleasurable it was, Michael's first reaction was to go faster. And so he did. Like he was trying to light a fire.
“No, no, no, it's fine to go slow.”
“Shit, sorry…”
“It’s fine,” she smiled, “just more gentle.”
The panic on his face had been clear. But at her gentle instruction, she saw him relax, taking her words and applying gentle pressure in slower, tighter circles. And it seemed Michael was now fully aware of its intended effect, as his eyes were able to lift up to hers underneath the rim of his glasses to see her breathing had increased, and blood rushing to her cheeks.
It felt incredible to watch his expressions, she thought. Seeing the little thoughts rattling around in his head, to be able to awaken something in him for the first time. But it also felt utterly exposing, and every time his thumb drew circles against her clit, she heard the soft click of her arousal that made the room feel as if she were inside an oven.
Michael’s lips parted, his head moving as if pulled by an invisible string to her core.
“Can I…?” he asked again, but more uncertain this time.
The anticipation gnaws so much at her skin, combined with the way he is taking his time that she has become somewhat impatient, so it’s completely involuntary when she nods her head and somehow manages a whispered ‘yes’.
She doesn't really, really know what's wrong with her. She's had head before. But when he dives between her thighs so quickly and eagerly, his thumbs almost pulling her skin gently to expose as much of her as he can, and swiping his tongue over the centre. From her entrance, all the way to her bundle of nerves.
It has her breath stuck in her chest, instinctively reaching down to run her fingers through his sandy hair. Even the slightest tug on it has a low groan vibrating through her where his mouth moves slowly against her.
“Michael…”
At first he is careful, taking the instruction she'd given him before and applying it to tasting her instead. But his eyes flit up to her when she breathes his name like that, so he redoubles his efforts, gripping the underside of her thighs to tug her towards him in a teasing rhythm.
She didn't really know what to expect, assuming he hadn't done anything like this before. But Michael seems eager to please, as he nudges between her sensitive folds to tease her entrance with his tongue, the sharp shape of his nose butting against her bud with every movement, as little as it is.
With one hand in his hair, her hips move against his face, the glasses perched on his face hanging askew. And all she can see is that his eyes are closed as he tastes her, every now and then he makes a noise between a whine and a moan, as if he didn't want the experience to end.
Dragging his tongue back up to her bud to focus his attention there, Michael experimentally slides one long, slender digit easily inside her, pleased at the breathy sound it seems to elicit from her. Two feelings at once, just as she'd given him before.
“Oh, shit-”
He fights the urge to smirk when he hears that. She's so warm and wet, that it's easy to slide in the second, feeling her walls suck him in as they clamp around his fingers moving in and out of her. It's a feeling he couldn't describe if he tried, and he daren't think of what she'd feel like around his cock, or if she'd let him.
She can feel her stomach muscles tightening, an orgasm bubbling up to the surface when he gains confidence, flicking her swollen clit with his tongue and pistoning two fingers with a pornographically wet smack into her over and over. Brushing that sweet spot inside that he manages to find sometimes, seemingly without realising.
“Michael - fuck - I'm gonna-”
He groans as her fingers tug at his hair, her hips grinding herself against him and chasing that delicious friction as her high barrels through her, sparking pleasure down each notch of her spine until it fizzles out through her limbs.
She can feel Michael grinding himself against the bed, searching for his own, as he maintains his actions, lapping up everything she gives him with determination. When she dares to look down at him, as if he can sense it, his eyes open to watch her expression, the blue of his eyes nearly entirely eclipsed by black.
As if something had been awoken in him that even he couldn't recognise he'd wanted.
With one last swipe of his tongue over her centre, Michael withdraws his fingers, gripping her thigh with them and making the skin there glisten.
Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire when he rights himself to his knees before her, looking down at her with admiration at how she is still essentially half naked. The tightness at the front of his jeans makes it obvious how he felt about what he'd just done.
Engrossed by watching her breasts move as she breathes heavily, the slight shimmer of sweat on her collarbones, Michael raises his hand to his face, using his palm to wipe her slick from his lips and chin.
She breaks the silence with a tired laugh when he pushes his glasses back up his face, one half of the lenses completely fogged up. It prompts him to laugh too.
“Was I okay?”
This time she doesn't hold back her smile at the way he asks it. As if she hadn't just shaken with the force of her high all over his face.
She nods, “More than okay.”
He seems genuinely relieved.
She bites her lip as she looks at him, his cheeks all tinged pink, his mind reeling at what they'd just done.
He doesn't know what to say or do, and she can see it.
“Do you fancy having a girlfriend, Michael?” she asks.
“Uh…I've never had one, not properly anyway.”
“Yes, but would you like one?”
She watches the bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows heavily, “Y-yeah…”
She pushes herself up to meet him where he's knelt, admiring his features for a moment, before leaning forward to kiss him, encouraging him to kiss her back. It takes a second for him to respond, but when he does, it's needy, teeth and tongues clashing as the musky taste of her is captured on him.
“Tell you what, after your exams, when you can relax, I'll be your proper girlfriend. In every way..”
His breath comes out shuddered against her lips, “what do you mean?..”
She wets her lips as she smirks, “I think you know exactly what I mean, Michael.”
She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing him blushed and bothered.
And when they're both dressed, sharing awkward giggles and nervous kisses, she gives him a look with a cock of her head as he checks his wall-mounted Countdown-themed calendar.
“What you looking for?”
“My last exam is the 15th. There's exactly 12,246 minutes between now and then and all I'm going to be thinking about is whether you'll really be my girlfriend or not.”
She nearly smiles at the fact he does the maths so quickly. 8 days, 12 hours and 6 minutes until his last exam. And even though she's made it clear she wants him, he's still unsure.
She meets his gaze, unable to hide the grin off her face, “Better get studying then. You've only got 12,245 minutes left until you've got me.”
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