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etfrin · 9 months ago

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter twenty-four | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | murder, getting away with murder, minor character death, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), riding, fingering (f. receiving), hints of edging, blood kink if you squint, creampie, virgin! Coryo lossing virginity | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 the end

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 the last chapter! I probably won't do an epilogue, i am not entirely sure on it yet! But this wraps up their story!! I hope you guys liked it! Make sure to reblog and give ne your feedback!

beta read by an angel (TRUTH) @nowitsmissing

thank you to everyone who was on this journey with me... I love you guys!

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Coriolanus finds Lucy Gray near the hanging tree. It was nearly evening. Lucy Gray's eyes were red. Coriolanus ignored the pity he felt. Soon, Lucy Gray would join Sejanus Plinth.

“Lucy Gray,” he hissed, taking her attention away from the tree.

“You'll need to leave,” he said, his voice faking desperation, “to the North. Sejanus would have wanted that.”

“What about you?” Lucy Gray asked, “What about the Covey?”

“The Covey will live, Lucy Gray, you know that. They're strong. They're survivors,” he replied, “as for me, I wish to leave with you. I can't stay in the place that took my friend.”

Coriolanus' eyes quickly filled with tears as soon as he finished. “It's all my fault,” his lips utter, “if only I could have stopped him.”

Lucy Gray looks at him, her face stricken with grief. She doesn't say anything but lets the tears fall down her cheeks. She pulls Coriolanus into a hug.

“The Peacekeepers will look for me, I'll stay in the cabin for the night,” Lucy Gray said. There was a cabin, near the lake, over the fence of the district. Nobody ventures that far except the Covey. Coriolanus and Sejanus only found out about its existence due to their connection with Lucy Gray.

He remembered all the moments he spent there with the Covey. It would be a good place for Lucy Gray to perish. Around all the greens and the music of mockingjays inside the forest.

“I'll meet you there tomorrow in the morning with supplies,” he said, holding Lucy Gray's hand, even giving it a friendly squeeze. He was afraid he was overselling the act but Lucy Gray was too sad to notice how over-the-top friendly Coriolanus was acting.

Lucy Gray nods and turns to leave. Her legs were shaky as she walked. Sejanus and Lucy Gray had to keep their relationship a secret for obvious reasons. But everyone would point at her for the mayor’s daughter's death. It didn't end with Sejanus Plinths' death. It won't because the mayor is trying to root out every single rebel, and surely he won't keep alive the girl his daughter hated so much.

Coriolanus finds his way back to the base. It's night by the time he returns. He climbs up the stairs and walks down the hallway to reach your room. He knocks and waits for you to open the door.

You do.

Coryo tried his best not to get distracted at the sight of you. You were looking so pretty. You look beautiful to him all the time. “Hi,” he gasps out.

“Hey,” you smile, giving him space to walk inside the room. Peacekeepers knew by now that something was going on between him and you. They knew better than to gossip about it though. It was clear you had the power to do anything you wanted. And everyone knew not to mess with someone from the Capitol.

That is why Coriolanus knew even if he spent the night here. He won't get in trouble. He pulls off his Peacekeeper uniform and wears one of the big, oversized sweatshirts you bought from the Capitol. The softness of the fabric makes him shy. He felt like a boy again. It was a feeling he never thought he would enjoy. For a moment, he could pretend he was in the Capitol, in his home, before the games had ever happened.

“You look comfy,” you tease him, as you find your home in his arms.

“I am,” he murmurs, his lips kissing your temple.

“I talked to Lucy Gray,” he informs you, “You were right. She's going to the north and she'll stay in the cabin for the night.”

“Hmm,” you hum, as you nuzzle your face into his shoulder, your lips pressing soft kisses to his pulse. Your arms around him, and his arms around you. Both of you caging each other. The heat of both of your bodies mingled into a pleasant warmth.

“Well, then my revolver will come in handy soon,” you whispered, a bit tired.

“They let you bring one here?” He questions.

“Special privileges,” you replied.

Any other day Coriolanus would feel jealousy pulling at his heart, a frown formatting on his face. Today, he just… didn't care. He didn't care that you had more benefits than him. He didn't care that you lived better than him.

You're his.

Could anything be better than that?

He doesn't think so.

“Typical,” he said, his head now on your shoulders.

“Uh huh,” you add, “Stay the night.”

“Of course, dove.”

You lay down on the bed beside him. His arm was thrown over your waist, and your legs tangled with him. You gently let your nails scratch at his buzz cut. He sighs, relaxing from your touch.

“Tomorrow is a big day,” you remind him, “We'll have to finish everything by noon and catch the train in the evening.”

“We?” He questioned.

“I talked with Dr. Gaul,” you revealed, a bit hesitant, “She wants you back.” You frown, “Don't let the news deter from our plan Coriolanus, it's important we leave no strings behind.”

Coriolanus blinks, trying to take in your words. A smile splits on his face. He couldn't believe this, he had thought he would have to wait for months before Dr. Gaul let him get back to the Capitol. Snow thought she would be petty like that. But you somehow managed to convince her otherwise. It was shocking, to say the least.

“I will go to the Capitol with you tomorrow,” he said. He repeats, “I'll go to the Capitol with you tomorrow!”

You giggled, “Yes, Coriolanus. You thought I would leave you behind? It took some… it doesn't matter. We'll have our happily ever after.”

“I can't believe it,” he whispers, his eyes shining with joy, even with the darkness of the room, you could see his eyes sparkling.

“You should,” you whispered, “now sleep, darling. It's a big day tomorrow.”

Coriolanus couldn't believe it. He pressed your lips against yours. “Thank you,” he lets out, “I love you.” Coriolanus takes your hand, and presses a kiss to your wrist, on the number tattooed on your skin. “I love you, my dove,” he whispered.

“I love you too, pretty boy,” you whispered.

Coriolanus pulls impossible closer as if he were trying to mold both of your souls together. “I am glad you're mine,” he said. He kissed your forehead. “You're mine forever,” he whispered, a hint of darkness, and obsession creeping into his voice.

It made you bite your lower lip as you heard the possessiveness in his voice. “I know,” you replied, “You're mine too.” You add, your voice muffled as your face was pressed into his chest, “Nobody can take you away from me ever again.”

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

In the morning, both of you quietly wake up in each other's arms. Coriolanus yawns, “Good morning, dove.” You hum something Coriolanus couldn't hear in reply.

It was so early that the sun had just begun to rise. However, he could hear the sound of rain. Coriolanus quickly gets out of the bed. He softly pats you on the cheek, smiling as you continue to fight the battle against sleep.

“See you soon,” he whispered, taking the revolver you had in your drawer and walking out of the room. He finds himself on his bunk bed, everyone else is sleeping, and he quickly begins to pack things inside of his bags. The supplies he told Lucy Gray about. When he is done, he briefly stops by in front of Sejanus Plinth's bed.

There was a box in which Sejanus Plinth kept his belongings. Coriolanus opens it to find letters, medicine, and two photos. One of Lucy Gray. Another was of Coriolanus and Sejanus, a photo taken from the time during the broadcast of the 10th Games. It seemed like yesterday.

Coriolanus Snow had no explanation for the tears that fell down his cheeks. Sejanus Plinth was dead. Snow had given Dr. Gaul the gun, and you made her pull the trigger. It's in her hands the blood of Sejanus truly was. Not on him nor you.

Coriolanus wipes his tears away. “She's coming soon to you, buddy,” he whispered to the picture. He wondered if Sejanus would thank him for his next actions, or curse him. Coriolanus doesn't think about it much, he leaves.

Soon enough, he reaches the cabin. “Lucy Gray,” he calls out. Lucy Gray opens the door, giving Coriolanus a polite smile. Lucy Gray lets him inside. He enters, looking around the old cabin he has been inside of many times. Coriolanus sets his bag down. Wondering about what he should do next. Should he wait for you? Should he take out the gun and shoot now?

Before he can decide his next actions, Lucy Gray pulls out a knife. “I think I’ll go dig up some Katniss since we got the fire going anyway. There’s a good patch by the lake.”

“I thought they weren’t ready,” he said. Katniss was another word for swamp potato. It grew around here, but just a few days ago Lucy Gray told him it wasn't ready for harvest.

“Two weeks can make a lot of difference,” she said.

“It’s raining,” he objected. “You’ll get soaked.”

She replied, “Well, I’m not made of sugar.”

Coriolanus lets her walk outside. It was a form of mercy, trying to give her some time to run. He knew that Lucy Gray's survival instincts were good. That was the only reason she had survived the arena.

But she won't be able to survive him.

Coriolanus follows her trail after a moment passes. She wasn't down the lake as she promised, but her footsteps were towards the forest. Coriolanus smirks as he takes the revolver out, and gets the gun ready for a shot.

“Let the hunger games begin,” he whispered, “may the odds be in your favor.”

Coriolanus continues to follow her trail quietly and quickly, using the training of being a Peacekeeper. His gun pointed in front of him, ready to be shot the moment he saw her. “Lucy Gray,” he calls out, his voice warm as if he wasn't going to murder, “Where are you? We need to leave soon.”

“Lucy Gray!” He turns when he hears footsteps and shoots, hoping not to miss. The shot met with flesh, the sound booming in his ear, much more overwhelming than the tap tap of the rain. He walks towards the body that is now in front of him. Red blood mixed with the rainwater on the ground, staining the greenery around them.

He shot her right in the chest.

Lucy Gray was dead.

She joined Sejanus Plinth in the afterlife and will spend the rest of eternity cursing Coriolanus. Snow couldn't find himself to clear. He felt relieved. No one can drag him down now. The only way for him was to climb the ladder and reach the peak. Coriolanus uses his feet to turn her dead body around. There was blood dripping down her lips, her dress red and her were nearly closed. She was nothing more than a dead body. Gone was the songbird.

Now it was time to get rid of the body.

He was grateful that the rain would cover the tracks. But he had to be careful as it was easy to slip and get hurt himself. He drags the body without any rush, he thinks of you, waiting in the cabin for him to come back. Both of you will go back to the Capitol. Snow will be together with his family, in the future you'll also become his family. Everything was going to be fine.

This was nothing but a simple stepping stone.

He could feel his arms getting tired but he continued to drag the body by her arms until he reached the edge of the lake. There was a boat. He wondered briefly if he should just take her on the boat and cross to the middle of the river to let her drown. But decided that it would be too much trouble, and pushed her to the river. A big splash occurs. And he could see Lucy Gray slowly but surely falling to her end.

Lucy Gray was gone from this world forever.

He throws the revolver into the river as well. The body would decompose in a matter of days. Everyone would think of her as a traitor. Even if the Covey comes to visit the lake again, they'll never know it's their beloved Lucy Gray's grave.

Coriolanus Snow reaches the cabin and opens the door to see you holding a Peacekeeper’s gun. The same gun he had used to shoot Mayfair and Billy Taupe. “Guess Spruce hid it here,” you grin at him. You were slightly wet from the rain, unlike him, he was soaking wet.

“Yeah,” he lets out, his shoulders relaxed, his face mirroring your smile. “We'll have to throw those in the lake too.”

You chuckled, “Let's not leave any stones unturned.”

Coryo couldn't take it anymore, the adrenaline was too much. “We won't,” he said, as he walked towards you until your back was on the wall. He takes the gun from you and throws it to the side. Neither of you flinch from the loud noise, the two of you too focused on each other instead. He closes the space between the both of you.

“But for now, I want you,” he adds, “No- that's not right. I need you, here.”

He doesn't wait for a reply. He crashed his lips to yours. You find yourself kissing him back. Your tongue exploring his mouth, he sucks at your bottom lip. Not caring that his teeth are digging into your flesh too harshly, that he's responsible for the coppery taste that occurs while you continue kissing.

“You sure?” You gasp as you break the kiss. A string of saliva connecting you both. Coriolanus doesn't reply, he finds his solace from the taste of your skin. He pressed his lips to your neck, sloppily kissing down your pulse. You softly moan, tilting your head to give him more access.

Coryo takes full advantage of that. He was going to claim you any way that he could. Carving his initials on your skin wasn't the only way after all. Cumming inside of you, giving your pretty red hickeys, the print of his fingers on your hips, even the soulmate tattoo you have on your wrist. All these are ways for him to fucking own you.

And own you he shall.

He bites onto your neck as if trying to tear out your flesh. He wants to consume you, soul and all. You cry out, your back arching. Your hips meet his, and he presses his hard bulge against you. He finds himself in between your legs. Your clothed cunt against his denim-cladded cock. You begin to grind against him, as he continues the assault on your neck.

The teeth mark he placed on your skin will remain for days. It will bruise on doubt. Coriolanus didn't have it in him right now to be gentle. He was too fucking drunk on you for that. All of his desires were rushing through, breaking his walls and overwhelming his mind.

“Fuck,” he curses as he realized his lips are red from your blood. His bites had broken your skin and now tiny droplets of blood were forming. He licks them all up and murmurs an apology. He pressed his lips on yours, painting your lips the same shade as his and making you taste yourself. His hips had slowed down the grinding against you.

He steps back and begins to undress. He lets his t-shirt and jeans fall to the ground. He takes his thick cock out of the confines of his boxers. He grips the base of length, trying to control himself as he watches you follow suit.

He pulls you against him again and nods his head towards the floor. You understand his intention and lay down. He bites his lip, sudden nerves overcoming him. He doesn't know what to do despite the raunchy stories he has heard from his fellow Peacekeepers.

Is he supposed to hold your hand or your hips? Should he just push in? Isn't he supposed to prep you first? Or are you wet enough? Fuck… it wasn't the first time he was intimate with you. He hadn't gone all the way but he was familiar with your body. But most of the time he was overwhelmed with his desire to think about what to do or not to do. This time his mind was clear, he was focusing solely on you and he wanted you to experience nothing less of ecstasy from his touch.

“Coryo?” you question, bringing him out of his internal monologue. “Is there anything wrong?”

“I-” he doesn't want to admit, but he knows he has to, “I don't know what to do right now.”

“You can do whatever you like. I'll tell you if you mess up, sweetheart.”

“I know,” he sighs, his eyes on your tits, he licks his lips, “but I am-” He swallows, trying to explain, “I want you. I don't know how to take you. Everything feels like too much or too little.”

You sit up. You gently cradle his cheeks in your hands. “We have all the time in the world, Coryo. What do you wanna do first?”

“I-” He doesn't form a full sentence, instead he kisses you. His hand is on your nape and another trailing down your body as he softly nips at your lips. He dips down his hand in between your legs, he pressed his palm onto your cunt. He lets himself be coated by your arousal. His breath hitches as he feels your heat in such an obscene way.

“Oh,” he whispered as he pressed a single finger inside of your walls. “I missed this.” He remembers the night when he first felt your tight, slick walls like this. He was rough that night, a bit mean too. Coriolanus wasn't going to be the same today. He plans to worship you.

He begins to slowly thrust his index finger inside of you. His head on your shoulder, his lips kissing any inch of skin he could find as he continues to stretch you out with a single finger. Then he adds another one, he was met with resistance, but he pressed his thumb to your clit. That makes you gasp, your cunt squeezing around his fingers when his thumb begins to draw small circles on the bud.

“Relax, dove,” he whispered, giving you goosebumps.

He doesn't begin to move his fingers even when you whine impatiently, your walls twitching around his digits. Once he deems that you're relaxed enough, he begins to slowly push inside of your pussy, as deep as his fingers could reach. He was trying his best to get you ready for his cock.

His fingertips begin to press into your walls, trying to find that one spot that would get you drunk on him as much as he's drunk on you. He knows he found the spot when he feels your walls pulse around his digits like it had a heartbeat of its own. You gasp his name and he smirks. He whispers to your ear, “That's it, huh?”

“Yes!” You moan, “Faster!”

Coriolanus Snow obeys because he can never say no to you. He begins to fuck his fingers inside of you faster, slipping his ring finger inside of you as well. He thrusts his digits fast and hard, he groans as he sees your pussy stretched to accommodate his long digits. He keeps his fingers slightly curved so that with each thrust he would press into your g-spot.

“Fuck, fuck, you're so pretty.”

Coriolanus couldn't be sure if he was saying that to you, or your cunt. He continues to keep up his speed, the sloppy, wet sounds of your pussy louder than of the rain. Coriolanus could hear you moan his name as he feels your pussy get impossibly tighter around his digits before your walls begin to spasm all over, locking his digits in. He doesn't pull them out, instead, he continues to press hard onto your spongy pleasure spot until you whine his name.

Your juices were now all over his fingers. He didn't waste a second to taste them. He looks into your eyes as he licks his digits clean. He runs his tongue between the spaces of his fingers, making sure he doesn't miss a single spot. When he's done, you pull him in for a kiss. You moan into his mouth as you taste yourself, you find yourself in his lap, his back pressed to the wooden floor.

Your hand pulls at the dog tag he wore. You use the necklace like a leash, pulling at it like he's a dog you're commanding. You wrap your fingers around it, your thumb caressing the metal pendant. “You're mine,” you whispered in wonder, “You taste of me.”

Coriolanus nods, agreeing to whatever you say. He just wants you! That's it. Ruin him. Ruin him for everybody else forever! You have that power. Take it and use it, that's all he wants.

You raise your hips, taking his cock in your hand. You pressed his tip against your clit, you gasped as you slowly began to rub his cockhead against your pearl. His pre-cum coating your bud, and soon all over your cunt. You were teasing him every time you let his cockhead get near your slit, but you don't let him slip inside of you. He lets out a whimper when you do it again.

Coriolanus finds out how easily he could make you. He switches the position within a split second, his hands on your hips as he uses his weight to press you down. You don't fight back. He growls out your name, his eyes flashing in annoyan

“Please-” he whines, “stop teasing.”

“Make me,” you smirk.

“Don't-” kiss, “Play-,” kiss, “With-” kiss, “Me.”

“Not when I have waited for you for so long,” he adds.

His fingers pressed into your flesh. He gets a hold of his length and pressed it to your slit. “Can I?” He asked you, he wanted your permission. He needs your ‘yes’ before he takes you as his forever.

“Of course, Coryo.”

He begins to push in his tip, his length slipping inside of you with ease. He gasps as he feels your warmth all over his cock. The feeling is so overwhelming that he has to stop midway to not cum right away. He squeezed the base of his dick before he continued to push inside of you again, slowly inch by inch. He breathes through his mouth, his eyes closed as pleasure fills every corner of his mind. You felt perfect.

“You feel so good,” he whines.

His cock twitched inside of your walls. He bites the inside of his mouth, trying to use pain to distract himself from the mind-blowing pleasure. Meanwhile, you clenched your pussy as if to see how much his cock had stretched you. The two of you gasped from the feeling.

“Fuc- ah!”

Coryo pulls out a few of his inches and begins to thrust in. You moan out, feeling pleasure in your veins and seeing stars in your eyes. Snow's hands were on either side of your head as he balanced himself above you. His dog tag dangles in front of your lips as his hips continue to move. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing his cock even deeper into you. Coriolanus lets out a groan from the feeling.

“I won't be able to last long,” he admits, his cheeks getting red. Despite the overwhelming pleasure, he couldn't help but feel ashamed about how heavy his balls were with cum ready to be released inside of you.

“You will,” you whispered your hand on his nape. You squeeze it. “You will last as long as I fucking want, Coriolanus,” you said to him, pulling him down to meet your lips. The kiss was messy and open-mouthed. Another hand of yours was on his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin. You were marking him in your own way. With long, red scratches.

Coriolanus slows down, ready to please you however you want. You moan into his mouth and he eats the sound up. Coriolanus thrusts his hips faster, unable to truly control himself. How could he when you made him feel this good? He couldn't decide on the pace. He wanted this to last hours. He wanted to cum.

He kept switching between fast and slow until he found himself with his back on the floor. You are on top of him, your hands holding his hands above his head. “Be a good boy,” you said to him before you began to ride him.

You grind yourself against his cock, letting his cockhead kiss your spongy spot with each movement of your hips. Your arousal was coating your thighs and now it was on his skin as well. You were so wet and messy. Coriolanus loved it. You use one hand of yours to play with his balls. Coriolanus could feel his eyes rolling back.

“Don't- I-” he cries out in bliss when you squeeze his balls gently. You hush him with a kiss, your hips moving according to your will. You had set the perfect pace. It wasn't too much for either of you, letting the pleasure be prolonged.

He knew you were close with the way your push was contracting on his shaft. He knew you were close because your eyes were closed and fuck, you were cock drunk on him. He knew you were close because you had slowed down, and now rocking your hips back and forth. The hold you had on his hands had loosened. He breaks free without a fuss and places his hands on your hips.

He begins to push his hips up, fucking his cock into you. You whine, your eyes opening as you see him take control again. His teeth pulled at his lower lip, silencing his groans as he continues to fuck into you in this position. You use one of your hands to rub at your sensitive clit, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

You tense, your pussy tightening around Coriolanus’ cock. Your only warning was the moan of his name as your cunt begins to spasm around his dick. Coriolanus lets out a deep groan, his lower lip bloody from how hard his teeth dug into the flesh. He fucks you throughout your orgasm.

“Get off,” he whines, “I can't cum inside of you.”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

Coriolanus doesn't realize he's coming inside of you until he feels like jelly. He had stuffed you full of his thick, hot cum without a warning. But you had already stated you didn't give a fuck. So he supposed it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had you now.

Forever.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Hours later, you and Coriolanus find yourself at the train station. Ready to go back to the Capitol, once and for all. Commander Hoff had personally come to escort you both.

Coriolanus was about to enter the train. You were already inside. But Commander Hoff stops him, “Son.” Coriolanus stills, waiting to hear what Hoff has to say.

“Don't let her go. You don't know what she had to keep you safe.”

Coriolanus looks Commander Hoff in the eyes and nods. “I won't,” he promises, knowing damn well he will keep it with his life. Coriolanus gets inside the train after saying goodbye. He stops before he opens the door to the cabin you were sitting in. He pulls up the sleeve of his shirt to look at his wrist. He grins as he sees the scar reverted to the number most important to you.

It was today's date.

Coriolanus slides the door and walks to his future.

Coriolanus walks to you.

663 notes · View notes

moonchildstyles · 1 year ago

Note

For a possible smutty gravity blurb: maybe something they haven’t tried before?? Like maybe flower watches one of his streams or something and he’s talking abt some type of kink/situation they’ve never done before and she gets all nervous bc she wants to do that but she’s kinda insecure bc why is he talking about it on stream but not to me??? And so maybe there’s a wholesome communication moment butttttt they end up doing that thing:) idk just a thought hehehehe

cw: anal play involved!! if that makes you uncomfortable please skip :)

wordcount: 10.2k+

—————

The end of autumn chill swirled around (Y/N) in a fluttering gust, the ends of her hair being lifted along the sweeping breeze. Her nose felt chilled, among the elements, any bare swatch of skin prickled with goosebumps. Despite her hand being exposed to the elements, she didn't notice much of that cold with the way Harry had it wrapped in his own. Walking her out to her car, he swung their hands between them in a juvenile show of affection. Since he started, she hadn't been able to wipe the smile from her face.

Looking up at him, seeing the tip of his own nose flushed with a chill to match that of his cheeks, her grin widened. He still had his glasses on from class, a heavy cardigan on his torso with his curls still a bit loose from his morning shower.

"What?" he asked, glancing down at her with a wide smile, his dimples and bunny-like front teeth on display.

"Nothing, just looking," she muttered through the curl of her lips, "You're working tonight, right?"

"I am, yeah," he sighed, "Sorry."

Creases pulled her brows into a furrow. "Why are you sorry? It's your job, don't be sorry."

"I know," he drawled, the same way he always did when she had to remind him that there was no reason for guilt tied to his line of work. "But, I was wanting to spend time with you tonight instead."

Bumping his shoulder, her gentle scolding tone melted, "You know, I could still come over."

A shy flush bubbled to the surface of his cheeks, painting him a deeper shade of red than the wind could accomplish. "You'd distract me too much."

"I think we could still get through," she teased, her voice lilting as she bumped her hip against his once more.

"Maybe, another time, flower," he murmured, looking down at her with an expression she figured was better suited to the man on camera and not the physics tutor he was during the day.

"Another time, then," she agreed, pushing back the sudden need to squirm as his eyes traced down her form.

Approaching the parking lot, her car in the lucky space close to the building, (Y/N) pretended as if she didn't cut her pace to make slower strides. She wanted an extra couple of seconds with him, even if it meant walking like the people she complained about on campus between classes.

"Did y'still want me to call you before bed?"

"Yes, please," (Y/N) answered, "If you're not too tired, anyway."

"Never too tired for you, love."

Thinking back to the first days of knowing Harry, remembering the way he struggled to meet her eyes or would flush immediately when she said something as simple as his name, it was hard to compare him to the version that stood before her now. Openly flirting with her and agreeing to another time where she could sit in on one of his cam sessions and distract him for fun. It was no wonder she had never seen the obvious signs tying the camboy on her computer to her physics tutor.

"Get home safe, yeah?" he murmured to her, stopping at the bonnet of her car. Using his hold on her hand he turned her to face him.

"I'll text you," she smiled up at him, rising to her tiptoes for a moment to press her lips to his in a small kiss.

Harry chased after her, unwilling to let the kiss end just yet. He won his reward of an extra peck before she started pulling away. He'd been late to his afternoon classes one too many times after walking her back to her car, claiming he just wanted to make sure she made it there alright when they really ended up spending time kissing until his cheeks were flushed.

"Go to class," she reprimanded him, drifting away from him towards her car.

Keeping his hand clasped in hers, Harry elongated that contact until he couldn't anymore, his fingertips grazing hers before they dropped to his side. "Love you."

"Love you, too, H. I'll see you tomorrow."

A toothy grin spread across his cheeks as he looked at her, his eyes impossibly behind the lens of his glasses. "See you tomorrow.

She gave him a tinkling wave as she stepped into her car. He would stay there until he saw her pull out of the lot, keeping to his promise of ensuring she started her journey home safely (he knew too many statistics about driving accidents to freely let her go without being there in case of emergency, he'd said). But, even as she pulled out of the lot into the main road, she could see him in her rearview mirror, standing with his hands on the straps of his backpack, wide grin on his mouth.

There was the tutor version of him again; the one that was soft and smiley, shy and wrapped in sweaters. She was going to have to tune into his stream tonight to get the other side of him.

—————

While tuning into Harry's shows were something that she always found fulfilling, there was something especially satisfying now that she knew who he was and knew him as more than just a faceless crooner. Though, she could admit, she still felt a bit shy when she logged in.

However, it didn't take her long to sink into the night session when she tuned in after putting away her study materials for the night. Checking the time, she knew Harry would be in the middle of his stream then, the temptation too much to ignore before she was logged in and watching him as he cooed and moaned for the camera.

By the time his screen was pulled up for her, his tip meter was already full and over the edge, his shirt off and his hand wrapped around his cock though his boxers were still on. She knew this routine—it was one of her favorites, anyway; he was in the mood to tease the audience tonight. He was going to coax them into begging for him, asking for more of daddy before he would be so inclined to give it. His chest was flushed a warm red, complimenting the black tattoos inked on his skin. Blocks of muscle were bunching and straining, his abs shining with a layer of sweat. The camera had almost everything in view, going as high up as to capture the line of his throat before cutting off at his jaw.

Plugging her headphones into her ears, she heard the labored sound of his breathing, the rich gravel of his town heavy on his tongue, and the slick sound of his fist passing over his length.

She had her hands on her keyboard, reading to type something out for him to test if he had his eyes on the chat, but she stopped short when he resumed talking. He was detailing out a fantasy for them, one she had never heard fall from his lips before.

"Would you like that, baby?" he asked, words drawling and dripping out of his mouth, "You'd let me try with you? You'd let me play with your cute little ass?"

Just out of view of the camera, he threw his head back, his breathing labored. She could see the stretch of his neck, flushed with his Adam's apple bobbing. His hand on his cock quickened, his fist slapping against his skin.

"You'd let me do that?" he continued, his voice completely breathless with his chest heaving, "Let me fuck you from the back and see where else you could take me? Play with you a little?"

With a fluttering blink, (Y/N) couldn't take her eyes off of what her Harry was doing on screen. Though he'd never brought it up to her before, it didn't take much for her to picture what he was offering for the audience.

She could be on her hands and knees for him, Harry kneeling behind her with his thighs smacking against the back of her own as his cock sank in and out of her pussy. Her heart was in her throat when she pictured him spreading her cheeks apart and thumbing at the second entrance he was speaking up, the second place she could "take" him like he said.

Is that something he wanted? He wanted to play with her, see what else he could mold her body into doing for him, see what reactions he could garner from her?

"You'd love it, sweetheart, I promise. I'd be so gentle, so gentle," he rambled, his voice sounding airy and lost the longer he sat with his fantasies. "I can put in a couple of fingers, show you how good it feels. I think I could make you cum like that. You want that?"

Her designated nickname pricked her ears. He didn't even know she was tuning into the show yet, having been frozen since he started speaking with no comments in her name being sent through the chat yet. He was thinking of her?

The idea made her thighs tense, her stomach squeezing into a tight knot.

There had never been a time in her life that she had considered allowing anyone to feel around anywhere other than her pussy, but the thought of Harry wanting to feel and touch her everywhere plucked at something in her. Leave it to him to make even the most unappealing of things into something she could see herself wanting.

"Fuck you everywhere, sweetheart, that's what I want" he groaned, the pace of his hand on his cock causing the band of his underwear to slip low enough to show off his length. "Gonna cum jus' thinking about it."

Sucking in a deep breath, (Y/N) listened to his breathing hitch and shudder, changing to match the heavy pace of his hand on his cock. He really was going to cum, that much she could tell. His abs were tight, skin flushed, and the base of his cock tight from the sliver of skin she could catch on screen.

"C'mon, sweetheart, tell me you'd let me try with you. Let me have more of you."

His chat was flooded with responses, going way too fast for (Y/N) to even attempt to concentrate on. She could imagine it was filled with the confirmations that he wanted, dirty promises that any of these audience members would spread open for him at any given moment. His tip meter had well exceeded the goal amount, the donations and tiny messages attached seemingly only urging him on.

All (Y/N) could give her attention to was the amount of times he uttered her nickname, asking her if she'd let him try his fantasy with her. That he promised that he would make it good for his sweetheart, that he'd be as gentle as he could be when sinking his fingers in and fucking her everywhere he could reach.

She felt as if she were out of her body, watching as he plucked down the band of his boxers. His heavy cock bounced up against his stomach before he caught it in his slick fist. His length was wet and flushed, precum pooling on the tip and dripping down his shaft. She was sure her mouth had dropped into a gape. This fantasy had elicited that kind of reaction from him. Her tummy tightened at the thought.

Though she was aware he was talking, spinning a story for his viewers to be entranced with, (Y/N)'s own head was spiraling around her own story.

Would he help hold her hips up when she couldn't anymore? She already felt full enough with his cock inside her, how much more would she feel with him like that? With his stamina, how long would he have her buried against the mattress, opened up just for him?

Before she could even be aware of the moment, she heard a familiar gasp in her headphones. Her eyes refocused on the screen, Harry's cock spurting with ropes of cum. Strings decorated his chest, slicking over his tattoos in milky pearls. He groaned, chest heaving with blushing skin. His throat was bobbing, the skin stretched with the very ends of his hair visible on the edge of the screen. She could picture his eyes closed, lavender eyelids fluttering with dark lashes. His mouth would be set into a gape, a pinch between his brows.

One of these days, she was going to end up going to his apartment after one of his streams. It wasn't fair that he was able to perform like that and she wasn't in his bed at the end of the night.

Harry recovered soon enough, cleaning off his chest and giving his signature send off for the night.

(Y/N) was still far from joining him in that headspace even when the screen blacked out, his page settling for the night. Her brain was still where he was describing his fantasy, where she could picture herself on all fours for him.

Replacing her laptop lid and sliding the device away, she rolled onto her back in the folds of her comforter. Staring up at the ceiling, she attempted to gather her bearings.

Now that more of the lust and the initial intrigue began to wane, she was left with a question.

Why wouldn't he tell her about this? Obviously, he had quite the feelings towards this fantasy, given the fact he was so worked up, cumming before she even really had a chance to catch up. Why was his first choice to share this with strangers on his stream as opposed to telling her?

To be fair, it was a rather intimate dream, even more than what they usually did with one another. But, considering the details of their relationship—her being an avid viewer of his before knowing his identity, Harry being an active cam-personality, as well as the time they sexted with one another before even knowing who they were—there were very blurry lines when it came to what could be "too much".

She hoped she had shown that she would be open to trying anything for him, just the same way he is with her.

Their phone call tonight would be interesting.

—————

"Hi, flower."

Snuggled in her duvet, (Y/N) relaxed into the mattress at the sound of his voice. "Hi, H. What are you doing?"

"About to fall asleep," he shared, his voice decidedly deeper than usual, "What about you, love? Y'get all your studying done?"

"Mhm," she hummed, casting her mind back to the hours before she tuned into his stream. They didn't seem so important compared to everything that happened after she slid her textbooks out of the way. Harry didn't even know yet that she had been present during the show, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him. A part of her wanted to wait and see if he would broach the subject of everything without her having to bring it up. "How was your show?"

"Short," he laughed, the sound a warm vibrato, "I got too worked up and barely made it through a half an hour."

"Yeah?" she prodded, hoping to open up the conversation for him, "What happened?"

"Jus' m'imagination running a little too wild," he sighed, paraphrasing everything she had already heard through her headphones, "Thought about you a little too much, of course."

The timber of his voice fell as he spoke his last statement, enticing her through the phone as if that was a hard task for him to pull off. His voice was what paid half of his bills anyway—his body handled the other fifty percent.

(Y/N) felt a tad on the breathless side when she spoke next, settling back into the way she had integrated herself into his story; she could still see herself on her hands and knees, spread open for him with whines falling from her lips. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, sweetheart," he drawled, the smug smile on his lips audible through the phone, "You've seen the shows; you know what I think about when it comes to you."

It was hard not to get wrapped up in his words. Even with the small plan she had in her back pocket, this being her attempt to gather more information about the fantasy she shared with strangers on the internet, it was all too easy to fall into that soft, velvet coated space with him where his words were like silk and honey dripping over her skin. He knew exactly how to talk to her.

"Yeah," she swallowed, closing her eyes with her cheek mushed against her pillow, "But, was something different about today?"

Harry hummed as if he were considering her question. This would be the moment, she figured. This would be when he'd bring up the fact that he wanted to try something new with her, lay her out on his bed and take her in every way he could.

"I jus' think I miss you, that's all," he told her, deflating that anticipation ballooning in her chest. "I feel like 's been a while since I've had you all to myself, don't you think?"

Truthfully, they spent the entire weekend at his apartment, studying and working on papers in-between cuddles on the couch and romps in his bedroom.

"I think, we had all weekend together," (Y/N) laughed, teasing him some as if she still wasn't itching for alone time with him.

"I guess we did, huh," Harry joined in, "Jus' not enough for me then, I guess. You've spoiled me, now I'm always going to want more."

That declaration pinged in the back of her mind. He wanted more, that's what he's said in the stream. He wanted more of what she had to give him.

"I can do that," she answered instinctively, her voice a bit breathy over the line.

"Yeah? Gonna keep spoiling me?" he teased, his demeanor decidedly much more light-hearted compared to the creeping in of lust into her tone.

"I'll try." She'd try to be everything he wanted, she decided. She was going to be the place he indulged and shared those intimate stories with, not the internet.

A soft sigh sounded on the other line. "Y'always do, flower," he crooned before a yawn cut him off, "'M about to fall asleep, love, 'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she rushed out, feeling guilty now that she's trying to extract information from him when he started the call telling her just how sleepy he was, "Go to sleep and I'll see you tomorrow, right."

"See you tomorrow," he confirmed, his voice heavy and dripping, "Love you."

"Love you, too, H. Goodnight."

Harry shared a final goodnight with her before the call ended with (Y/N) left in her lonely bedsheets and the new facet of him she learned today.

Her eyes shuttered to a close as she sunk into the silence of her bedroom. She hadn't been lying when she said that she would try to do that—be that—for him. Why he didn't tell her in the first place, wasn't something she could dwell on at the moment. She needed to focus on plucking up the courage to do what she promised.

—————

"I'm still coming over tonight, right?"

Harry's smile bloomed over his lips, dimples deep in his cheeks. "Of course," he murmured, dipping his head down through the open window of her car to press a kiss to the apple of her cheek, "Should jus' live there, if you ask me."

(Y/N)'s own lips were curled into a soft smile as she looked up at him. This wasn't the first time nor would it be the last time she heard of this want of his. "We'll see," she settled, "Let me know when you're back then I'll head over."

"I will," he smiled, pressing another delicate kiss to her mouth before pulling away. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she cooed, "I'll let you know when I make it home."

He murmured a small thank you against her skin before pulling away. He waved a goodbye at her as he stepped back from her car, giving space for her to pull out of the parking lot.

Flicking her gaze to the rearview mirror, Harry nothing more than a cardigan covered figure that grew blurrier and blurrier until she took the turn to leave him out of her sight, (Y/N) could feel her heart rate spike.

She had a plan. The idea of setting it in motion elicited that nervous excitement in her. All she wanted was for it to go along without a hitch, and spend a special night with Harry.

When she laced this whole thing together the night before, she decided that when she went over that night, she wouldn't even really address what she had heard him say in the stream. She would initiate everything, pushing a little bit for the taboo idea he had shared, telling him that she wanted to try something new with him. She would tell him that she wanted to give more of herself to him.

It wouldn't take too much convincing, she figured. She already knew he had quite the affinity towards the idea of trying out both of her entrances. All she had to do was frame it with all the confidence she could muster.

And, maybe a cute set of lingerie she had bought with him in mind.

—————

The soft sound of lips parting and coming together once more filled Harry's apartment, the television screen a plain black as (Y/N) didn't want to waste time playing pretend with a movie night or watching an episode of their show. Instead, she didn't take much time before she was climbing atop his lap on the couch, her thighs astride his hips and Harry's hands on her waist.

"Sweetheart," he sighed into her mouth, his grip on her waist tightening as if she would slip away without him, "I've missed you."

(Y/N)’s own hands cradling his jaw, thumbing at the planes of his cheeks. Tipping her head in an effort to deepen the kiss, her tongue sweeping across his own, her nose the side of his own. "I missed you too, daddy."

She could feel the way his title affected him, his cock hard and heavy against her own core. He used his hold on her as leverage to help grind her down against him, (Y/N) practically able to feel the ridge of his head and the pulse of his heart through the thin fabric of her shorts. His grey sweats left little to the imagination.

"Say it again."

Moaning into his mouth, a crease knitted her brows the further she sunk into the moment. This was her chance, she was vaguely aware of. She was so ready for him, she lacked those nerves that came with vulnerability and she doubted Harry would be self-conscious enough to deny any indulgence into his fantasies.

"Daddy," she moaned, leaning into him that much more.

Snaking a hand down his form, (Y/N) followed the line of his shoulder down to his forearm. She reached to grab at his wrist before guiding his hand down lower on her body. Harry pliantly let her move him until they reached the full of her ass, the plush skin denting under Harry's fingertips. She pressed back against him, encouraging him to grab and play with her just like he said he wanted.

Harry was all but melting between her thighs. His kissing was growing lax and heavy, his tongue playing with her own in languid strokes. His heartbeat was racing but there was no urgency in the way he handled her. He luxuriated in every touch, every stroke, every grab.

It didn't take long for him to bring his other hand down to match the first, gripping her bottom in the span of his palms. Her skin felt flush everywhere he touched her, making it easy for her to push back against his hands and urge him to take the more he had been searching for.

"What's gotten into you?" he murmured, his voice heavy and watered down through the interrupting kisses. "Not that I don't like it, but you're being different, sweetheart."

To his credit, she was definitely going out of her way and initiating more, asking for more, doing more than she ever had before. She was always perfectly content with Harry calling the shots and sinking into that persona he felt comfortable in when it came to the bedroom. While she wasn't planning on taking that power from him tonight, she still had an end goal in mind that she was willing to guide him into meeting her at.

"Sorry," she answered, taking her lips to the corner of his mouth as they caught their breath, "I can stop. I just didn't realize how much I missed you, that's all."

"No, no, don't slow down," he urged her, pulling her flush against him with his hands on her ass, "Jus' want you to talk to me. What do you want? What do you want daddy to give you?"

Traveling down his neck, her lips never left his skin as she dragged a string of kisses over the slope of his throat. "I want to try something new," she whispered, hiding in his neck as she spoke.

"New?" he clarified, his voice vibrating through his throat, "What do you mean, hm?"

Was there a pretty way to phrase what she was going to ask for? (Y/N) wasn't sure, but she was going to try her best. As lusty as she was, she still was a little too shy for the more vulgar of phrases.

Instead, she pressed her bottom back against his palms, the ridges of his palms and the digits of his fingers could be felt through her sleepover shorts. "I want more of this," she told him, nose skimming his hairline with her eyes shuttered closed. "Inside."

All at once, clarity seemed to move into Harry.

Shifting his hold on her, one palm returned to the curve of her waist and the other landed on the back of her neck. He drew her away from her hiding place, forcing her to meet his gaze.

The lush green of his eyes had been depleted into something dark and foresty, a thin ring around a dilated pupil.

Fluttering her eyes in a blink, she dropped her gaze down to the swollen pillows of his lips. "Why'd you stop?"

A lopsided curve tugged at the corner of his lips. His hand on the back of her neck shifted until he was cradling her jaw in his palm, thumbing at dip under her chin. "Wanted to talk to you for a second, that's all."

Her heartbeat sped up in her chest, though no longer because of the lust she had feathering through her veins. "About what?"

Amusement flickered through his gaze. "About what y'jus' said to me."

Underneath her, Harry looked every bit the boy she had met in her physics course, the one that was too shy to meet her eyes and overly apologetic any time he had to scoot past her. He was the one that had tutored her through the toughest lectures and exams, willing to take his time and teach her things she wouldn’t have understood without him. She remembered him with flushed cheeks and chunky glasses, always warm under a heavy cardigan and a shy smile.

But, he wasn't acting like that boy. He was acting like the performer he was on screen. He was coaxing and teasing her, easing her into spilling her guts and cumming for him the second he requested as much. It wasn't fair; he was too cute, making her feel so safe to let go and be whatever she wanted to be, but entirely too hot to let her hand a clear head.

When she didn't answer, the cam performer continued, "Y'said y'wanted more of this, right?" He emphasized his question with the hand on her waist sliding down until he was warming the curve once more, fingers denting the soft flesh.

With a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) gave a quiet nod of her head.

Harry hummed at her nonverbal answer. He tipped his chin and pressed a small kiss to her lips. It was a distraction as he led both his hands to sit on her bottom. This time, he made a point of sliding them under the hem of her shorts, skin to skin.

"What did y'mean by inside, flower?"

(Y/N) bought herself time by pressing another lingering kiss to his lips. There was that bashfulness rearing its head once more. She would have to tap into his confidence if he wanted her to be blunt.

"You know," she murmured as if that were a real answer.

"Do I?" he prodded, smiling into their kiss, "Because I think it sounds like y'want me to play with your cute little ass. Is that right?"

Her chest expanded with a shuddering breath. "Uh-huh."

Buttoning his mouth against hers one more time, he shared a quick kiss with her before pulling away. His pupils were still dilated and warm, but something was decidedly softer when his gaze met hers.

"Is that why y'seem so nervous, right now?"

(Y/N) clammed up at his words. He wasn't supposed to be so observant.

"I'm not nervous," she argued, her hands falling to the planes of his chest.

"Yes, you are," he countered, just as sweet as he smiled up at her, "And that's okay. I jus' want to know where your heads at. I didn't know y'ever wanted something like this."

She shrugged, dropping her eyes to where her hands rested on his chest. She could feel the hard muscle underneath the soft fabric of his top. "I only want to try it with you."

"Yeah?" he said, sounding a little too cocky to be safe, "And why y'didn't y'tell me before?"

Before she could think much better of it, the adrenaline and endorphins in her system doing their job, (Y/N) fired back, "Why didn't you tell me?"

She watched as Harry's brows creased at her words. "What do you mean, love?"

Floundering over her words, (Y/N) knew she couldn't stop here. She had already started, there was no way of stopping in the middle of it all. "I saw your stream the other night," she blurted out, getting it out of the way and off of her chest, "The one where you talked about this stuff."

Realization dawned on him then. "I didn't know y'were listening to that one."

"I was going to comment or say something so you knew I was there," she explained, "But I had come in halfway through and you were already talking, and I've just never heard you talk about wanting that before. I was... surprised."

"Bad surprised or good surprised?"

"Good surprised," she admitted, peeking at him through her lashes, "But, a little bit bad surprised because I had to hear about it through a stream and not from you."

Adjusting his hold on her, Harry held her with an arm looped around her middle with his other hand still warming her jaw. Hugging her to his chest, she had no choice but to look up at him and meet his eyes. "I wasn't trying to keep anything from you, you know."

"I know," she reasoned, understanding that part of his job was that it was an outlet for some of the more vulnerable things he hadn't admitted aloud yet, "But it sounded like you were talking about me, and when we talked later you said you were thinking about me while you were streaming. If I hadn't been watching, though, I still wouldn't have known."

He took in her every word, listening to what she had to say before speaking. "I don't want to push you too far, that's all. I like what we have—I like making love to you,"—the phrase always brought a smile to his face when he said it, especially when (Y/N) grew shy—"and I didn't want it to be any different."

Pursing her lips, (Y/N) attempted to understand what he was getting at. "So, you don't actually want to? It was just a stream thing?"

"Oh, no," Harry stopped her, a huff of his laughter fanning across her skin, "I definitely want to, trust me. I want you to want it too, and not jus' because y'feel like it would make me happy."

"I feel like we do a lot of things because we know it makes each other happy, though," she started, maneuvering her arms until they were looped around his neck with her fingers edging into his hairline on the nape of his neck, "I don't think that's a bad thing as long as we're both comfortable, right?"

"You do watch scary movies with me," he smiled, drawing a small breath of laughter out of her lungs, "But this is a little different, don't you think? I don't want to do anything with your body that you're not one hundred percent excited for. 'M only happy if you are too."

Rolling her lips between her teeth, she leaned into his hand on her jaw. "I am excited, though—I want to do this. I just wish you had told me first."

"Me too," he smiled, "Promise I wasn't trying to hide anything from you, I was only trying not to scare you."

"I know," she murmured, turning her face until she pressed her lips into a small kiss against his palm, "I'm not scared—you already promised you'd be gentle."

His grin widened at her reference to his stream, surely remembering his own fantasy in detail now that she was offering it up. "I did, didn't I?"

"Mhm," she hummed, using that hold she had around his neck to draw him nearer, "You said a lot of things."

"And, you liked it."

"I did," she confirmed, the tip of her nose grazing his, "You don't make it sound scary or gross, or anything?"

"Yeah?" he laughed, tipping his chin until he could press a tiny peck to her lips, "How do I make it sound?"

"Really hot," she admitted, "I forgot everything I studied about as soon as I started listening to you."

Harry gave a disapproving hum, teasing her. Resting the pad of his thumb against the full of her lips, he kept her from kissing him again, leaving her to listen as he spoke. "We'll have to work on that again later then, won't we? Go to the library again for some motivation?"

The reminder of the time they had gone to the library and Harry helped her through that mental block with his hand between her legs was enough to get her squirming in his lap once more. He had to know exactly where her mind had gone when she saw his grin stretch his dimpled cheeks.

"But, I should probably take care of you now," he mused, finally slipping his thumb from her lips as he smeared a kiss across her pout. "Y'deserve it for being so patient and talking to me about what you want."

"I do," she absently agreed, melting into him. She was willing to take whatever he would give.

(Y/N) indulged in the pillow of his lips, parting her mouth and taking the taste of him across her tongue. It was easy to slip back into that place with him, where her thoughts were wisps and her desires were candles lit aflame. His cock was still heavy in his lap, right where her core was resting with spread thighs, his lips still swollen, and skin still warm.

"I love you," he murmured on a breath, breaking away though he didn't stray too far from her with his forehead resting on hers, "Let's go to bed, sweetheart."

She let out a dreamy okay, following after him once he had her settled on her feet, back towards his bedroom. They didn't bother to close the door behind them, in too much of a rush before Harry was roughly handling her to be tossed amongst the folds in his bedding.

A bright peal of laughter fell from (Y/N)'s lips at the act, her eyes creasing and cheeks split wide. Harry climbed his bed with a matching smile, hovering over her.

"So pretty, you know that," he crooned, dropping a kiss on the apple of her cheek before he began his own pathway across her skin. He followed the soft planes of her face, grazing her eyelids and the bridge of her nose. (Y/N) couldn't help the soft breaths of laughter that followed the more affection he piled on her.

"You're pretty," she answered through her smile, placing her hands on his cheeks to keep him from straying too far once he finally rested on her lips.

A sly smile on his mouth kept her from getting a real kiss from him. He was bubbling up with something, she was sure.

"I know," he teased, "You think 'm pretty enough to play with your cute butt, so."

"Don't say it like that," she whined though her complaint held no grit through her toothy smile. She made a halfhearted attempt at pushing him away, though Harry stayed right where he was above her.

"Am I wrong? I seem to remember a certain conversation we had just a minute ago."

She didn't bother to answer him, instead smushing her lips against his in a silencing kiss. It was a bit off center, not quite matching up with her nose smushed against his cheek, but that didn't matter much to either of them. Harry happily fell into the contact without a single complaint.

Soon enough the silly kiss had melted into something serious, warm and languid. He laid heavily between her legs, his cock straining against his sweats with her loose shorts doing little to cover herself. His chest was pressed against hers, heartbeats side by side with every breath marked by the extra push of his blocky muscles against her breasts.

By the time her breath was taken from her lungs, Harry pulled away first. He skimmed his kiss-swollen lips over her skin until he was hovering by her ear. "Y'really want to try it out tonight?"

It didn't take a second thought before she was nodding her head.

"We'll go slow, (Y/N)," he cemented, pulling away to match her eyes intensely, "Jus' tell me to stop if you change your mind."

"I will," she answered, knowing he wouldn't move on until he had that verbal confirmation from her,

He gave her a pleased smile before he dipped down and pressed another small kiss to her lips. "Flip over for me, sweetheart."

The flames in her stomach pitched into a bonfire at his command. That had been exactly what she was picturing. Harry gave her space to roll onto her tummy, helping her move until she was on her knees with legs spread and cheek pressed against his pillow.

"This alright?" he checked in, dragging his warm hands down the backs of her thighs.

She nodded with a pleasant smile on her mouth. "This is how I pictured it," she murmured.

Harry's touch solidified at her words, less glancing fingertips and more weight on his palms as he caressed her skin and felt every inch of the plush fullness. "You pictured it?

Her ribcage practically rattled against her heartbeat as he started pulling down her shorts and panties. He helped her navigate pulling them off of her bent legs and ankles with the way her mind was too preoccupied. Why didn't she just show up naked? It would have made this so much easier.

"Uh-huh," she breathed, answering his question, "I-I wasn't sure what you had in mind, but I hoped it was like this."

Harry hummed, bending down to press a kiss to the small of her back. He pushed the hem of her loose shirt up, revealing more and more of her skin though they were both too in a rush to take the time to completely undress her. Soon enough, Harry's shirt joined her shorts and underwear on the floor, his sweats and boxing being all that clothed him for the moment.

"I have lots of ideas, sweetheart," he murmured, starting a path of planted kisses on the hills of her spine. "We'll only get through a couple today, but if y'like it, we can try so much more."

The promise that there was more he wanted to show her, more times that she would be wrapped in his sheets, more of him that she would accept without a doubt, was enough to get her pussy fluttering.

Going down the line, Harry started kissing over the globes of her bottom, delicate sweeps of his lips over the sensitive skin. She couldn't help the goosebumps that touched her skin, unfamiliar with the feeling of anything other than his strong hands skimming this part of her.

"Gonna eat you out first, okay, flower?" he crooned, his words fanning out across her skin, "We'll start there, and we'll see how you feel."

"Okay, Harry," she sighed, trusting him from where she lay with her cheek squished into the pillow and eyes fluttering to a close. The only thing she didn't love about this position: she couldn't see him.

A beat later, she could feel the warmth of his breath fan across her core. She tensed some at the surprise, feeling her insides squeeze knowing that he was that close. She only had enough time to register that exhale before the flat of his tongue was licking through her wetness. Her own breath was sucked out of her lungs at the first touch against her clit, her folds being spread wide open around the width of his tongue.

Sagging towards the bed, she arched her back that much more for him, presenting any and everything for him. Harry wrapped his hands around her thighs, palms warming the tops while his fingers wrapped around to the side insides and dented the delicate skin. His grip was steadying as he pointed the tip of his tongue and explored her opening, her walls pulsing.

An all too smug breath of laughter fell from his lips when he pulled away. "Feeling good, sweetheart? Tell me."

"So good, H," she bubbled immediately, no other thoughts attempting to take over at the moment.

"Who?" he pressed, his hands on her thighs tightening though he didn't dip back down to her pussy like she wanted.

"So good, daddy," she corrected, all but keening into him, hoping she gave the right answer and would feel more of him sliding through her folds and tasting her wetness.

"That's better, sweetheart," he praised her.

With that, Harry's tongue was once more slipping through her wetness. He smeared his tongue across her core, taking in everything she had to offer while leaving a mess behind, comprised of both her slick and his saliva. Wet sounds filtered through his bedroom, along with the heady breathing coming from her and the contented noises coming from Harry.

By the time (Y/N) had her slick covering her thighs, enough wetness to make her worry she was going to start dripping over his bed (though, seeing as how he enjoyed making her squirt, she doubted he would have minded), Harry began focusing his tongue over her pulsing entrance. More and more slick wept from her hole as he pointed the tip and slipped inside amongst her tight walls. She shuddered at the feeling, her breathing hitching as she attempted to bring in a deep breath.

Before she could even register that she was missing contact on her clit, his fingertips were pressing against the bud. Tight circles were drawn around the top of her slit, her legs beginning to shake now that there was so much moire to focus on but less room in her brain to spare. He kept his other hand steady on her thigh, keeping her from falling while simultaneously being her grounding anchor.

Her wetness dipped down his fingers, tainting his palm with a thin glimmer. Harry pulled away for a heartbeat, his breathing heavy. She could imagine the shine on his chin and nose, the flush to his cheeks, and the way he would be staring at her with intensity in his eyes. She could feel that heated gaze as his fingers trailed through her messy slit.

When he reached her hole, he lingered for only a second before he was skipping upwards. Though (Y/N) knew this was coming, she still felt her heart skip a beat, her breathing shatter as she waited with bated breath.

He brought his slick fingers to her second entrance. In an instant, (Y/N) felt herself tense up, the foreign feeling shocking her.

"'S alright, flower," Harry crooned to her, his words fanning across the rounded globes of her ass, "Jus' relax. 'S only me, and 'm going to be gentle, remember?"

"I remember, I remember," she muttered in a rambling blurt. Honestly, if she had been asked what exactly she was remembering at that moment, she wouldn't have been able to give a straight answer.

Working her through that initial shock, Harry circled his slick fingers around the puckered skin, delving his tongue back into her pussy to give her something familiarly fantastic to cling to. Her legs took as she took in the duo of feelings, her clit being laved over by his tongue with a part of her she never thought could be stimulated now pulling the breath from her lungs.

"Still feeling good, love?" he asked, drawing away for just long enough to ask before he was licking through her folds once more.

It didn't take a second thought before she was breathing out, "Uh-huh, uh-huh."

There was nothing else for her to say—especially if she wanted to sound coherent. Though it was still odd, the feeling of his wandering fingers, every pass of his fingertips over the tight opening had a pulse ringing through her insides. The flames in her stomach were tight and warm, coiling into a burn.

"I knew you'd like it, sweetheart," he mumbled against her pussy, "Told you I'd be gentle. Jus' wanna open you up a little for me to fit a finger in, is that okay?"

(Y/N) felt her eyes squeeze to a shut, creases knitting her brows together. "It's okay," she breathlessly answered, half-parroting his words back to him as that was all she could process in the moment.

A groan rumbled through Harry's chest, the sound vibrating over her core. "You want that? Want me to finger your tight little ass, love?"

Until Harry, those words would have turned her off, had her curling in on herself and ending whatever encounter had gone south, but hearing the vulgar request in his dulcet tone, rounded with lust, had both her entrances pulsing around nothing.

"Tell me you want it, sweetheart."

"I want it, daddy," she breathed out, a short whine cutting her off when he thumbed at her slick rim, trying to spread her open just like he said, "Please."

"You're doing so good, my love," he murmured, dropping a kiss to the sensitive crease just between her thigh and the slick spread of her core. "'M going to give you everything y'want. I jus' need you to relax."

Bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, (Y/N) sagged towards the mattress. She thought she had been relaxed, easing into everything and welcoming his touch. "I-I'm trying," she whined, "I thought I was doing good."

"You are, flower, I promise," he soothed her, another kiss to the slick skin, "Y'might be thinking about it too much, that's all. Y'need a distraction, don't you?"

(Y/N) didn't want to be distracted from a single touch he gave her, if she was being honest. She wanted to feel everything, know where his hands were, and find what she liked most. But, she supposed she might be too aware of every graze of his fingers, her body instinctively tensing and moving.

"I think you do, sweetheart," Harry continued when he didn't get a response.

The bed shifted behind her then, his hand stilling on her backside before she could feel his hips pressing against her ass. His thighs were lined up against her own with his hard cock sliding through the wetness of her folds.

A gasp fell from her lips, the tip of his heavy prick nudging her clit. She felt her insides pulse, including the already tight hole he was trying to work open. She keened back against him, slicking his shaft and the trimmed patch of hair at the base.

Smug laughter sounded behind her, Harry sounding much too pleased with himself and the reaction he could garner from her.

"Stay still for me, love," he instructed her, "'M gonna help you."

The steadying hand he had placed on her hip disappeared then, instead fisting at his cock before he was nudging the head into her entrance. Slick with both his saliva and every weep of her wetness, he slid in with no problems, a wet slap sounding once he bottomed out. (Y/N) reveled in the familiar feeling of fullness, completely spread wide open for his cock to push through her tight walls. She could feel the ridge of his head, the length of his veins, the slight curve that aimed him perfectly at the soft spot on her walls.

She would never be used to the depth he reached in her, remembering the way he had teased such a thing on a stream before they even knew one another. She had figured it was nothing more than fantasy talk back then, something to get his viewers going as well as feed into something Harry could cum to. Now, she knew that was all very much the truth, feeling the stretch in her own body as if he were nudging as deep as her stomach.

"Better, sweetheart?" he muttered, rearing his hips back before thrusting forward. He kept her on balance with his hand returning to her hip. Slick noises erupted around his cock as he sunk in, his hips slapping against her thighs.

The pads of his fingers circled her back entrance through his distraction, though her attention had trouble splitting between his heavy cock and the foreign touch. She could feel the way he did his best to gently spread her open, easing her into being able to take one of his thick fingers.

"B-Better, daddy," she cried, reaching blindly for this hand on her hip. She needed something gentle and familiar, she decided.

Harry welcomed her innocent touch, lacing their fingers together over the full of her hip together though her hold was decidedly looser given the monumental distractions she was going through.

"Good," he huffed, matching that of a particularly hard thrust he gave.

In that same moment, (Y/N) could feel the tip of one of his fingers slide inside her untouched opening. She gasped, mouth dropping open into a gape.

It was more startling than anything, the small intrusion causing her body to tense up.

"No, don't do that, sweetheart," Harry gently scolded her, keeping the pacing of his hips as he fucked her pussy, "Stay relaxed for me. You're doing so good, no need to be scared."

She wanted to listen to him, she really did, but she didn't know how to relax. All she could manage was closing her eyes, flexing her fingers around his own, and focusing on the familiar parts of his touch. She tried to right her breathing, fix the uneven shuddering and replace it with something steady and consistent.

"That's so much better, sweetheart," he cooed, dropping down to press a kiss to her shoulder, "Keep going, love. 'S jus' me."

While she didn't feel as if she were relaxing any considering how tightly wound her tummy was and the pulsing of her walls, she was happy to hear that she was easing up for him. Her efforts increased tenfold when that same slick finger pushed deeper inside of her, the knuckle of his digit catching before he could go further.

(Y/N) couldn't have prepared for how full she felt with his cock running through her walls and the small intrusion of his finger in her backside. The pace of her breathing she had tried to curate, the even intakes and exhales, was thrown out the window the second she allowed herself to take in the full breadth of that feeling.

She could feel him everywhere: the slap of his thighs against the back of her own, his hand in hers, his cock spreading her open, and his finger venturing into her ass for the first time.

There was no room in her head for anything but him; no wispy thoughts or anything that could form coherent words. She was drifting through his bedsheets as he did as he pleased with her.

With her attention only on him and he he felt, she could feel the twitch of his cock through her walls, everything stretched so tight around him. He barely stroked his finger through her back entrance, pulling it out the smallest amount before pushing back through. He was curating two opposing rhythms, leaving a part of him inside her at all times.

The thought had a broken moan leaving her lips.

"Fuck, you're so hot, baby," Harry muttered, the burn of his gaze trapped on her ass, "Gonna make me cum just from seeing my finger in your ass."

"I-I—" she floundered, unsure of where her mind was as well as the moisture in her throat, "I-I want—daddy."

A particularly harsh thrust was delivered, the bones of his hips pressing hard into her thighs. Another tiny bit of his finger sunk into her backside, enough to have (Y/N)'s back arching.

"What do you want from daddy, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice strained and thin. His composure was waning.

What did she want from him? What else could he give her that she wasn't already reveling in?

"C'mon, love," he coaxed, though his voice was decidedly harsher than she'd heard it before, "Don't go dumb on me yet. I still wanna hear my smart girl talk to me."

If he thought that would help clear her mind, he was sorely mistaken when she felt another gush of her wetness seep around his cock, her clit throbbing, and walls pulsing around everything inside. He could barely move his finger though the fact that she was aware it was inside was just as effective as feeling him slide through her virgin opening.

"Oh," he sighed, bottoming out with hard and fast thrusts against her, "You liked that, my love? I'll have to remember that, won't I?"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh." (Y/N) nodded her head with only half of her attention on what he was saying.

He pulsed his hand around her own, keeping her steady and with him. "We'll have to save that for next time though, sweetheart. I think you're about to cum with daddy, right?"

That was what she had wanted. The last thing he could give her was his release landing across the backs of her thighs. She could only blindly nod against the pillow, her hair sure to be a mess by the time she would actually start to care about anything other than her lust-filled body.

"I can't last much longer, love," Harry started, his words emphasized with the way he had to grit them out, "But, I need you to cum first. Wanna see you cum with your pussy and ass filled with me. Make me proud, sweetheart."

For (Y/N), time stopped right there. All that she was aware of was the man at her back and the perfect ribbon in her tummy that had unraveled in the most spectacular of fashion. Her mouth dropped open to a silent gape, nothing coming out given the fact she couldn't take any air in. Her head was cloudy and warm, matching the rest of her body. Points of clarity came in the form of Harry's hand on her hip, the tap of his balls against her clit, and the sharp unfamiliarity of the stretch of her second entrance.

That was the only reason she was aware of the fact he had pulled out. She mourned the loss of him inside her—in both places—until she felt him cum against her pussy, warm ropes sticking to her skin. The mess between her legs was now a perfect miss of the both of them, dripping down the inside of her thighs.

Aftershocks came in the form of lingering spurts from Harry, and (Y/N)'s walls pulsing around nothing. She couldn't be sure when she returned to the land of the living, but when the details of Harry's room came back into focus, she swore her vision was sharper. There was a joke about good sex there, something about Harry being her cure-all, but there was no way she could even attempt a tease at the moment.

She knew Harry was with her once more when he dropped down to press a set of kisses on the small of her back. His hands were on her hips, one still holding tightly to her own, while the other kept her steady as she began to lose her balance and sink towards his bed.

"You with me, (Y/N)?" he murmured against her skin, his voice gruff.

Flexing her fingers in his as a response, (Y/N) gave a small nod. "I'm here."

"Oh, love," he sighed, draping himself over her back, his lips pressing to the line of his jaw and soft of her cheek, "You did so good, I love you so much. Did that feel alright? I didn't hurt you right?"

"No, no, I felt really good," she breathed, a soft chord of laughter swaying out amongst her words, "I think I almost blacked out."

"Oh?" he sounded, his own peals of laughter following right after, "In a good way, right?"

Letting go of his hand, (Y/N) brought it up to pat at his cheek. "In a good way."

"Good," he crooned, pressing a gentle kiss to the palm of her hand before he started extracting himself from her. "I'm gonna get some things to clean us up, 'kay? Stay right here."

He must think he's so funny, she thought, but she didn't have it in her to play his back and forth at the moment. He could win this round.

By the time Harry returned with wet cloths and a pair of his shorts for her to borrow, all of the slick release coating her core and the inside of her thighs had cooled. It was an uncomfortable feeling that he took his time wiping away. He eased up around her sensitive spots, apologizing with kisses to the backs of her thighs and promises to be gentle.

"Did y'really like it, (Y/N)? Everything we did?" Harry asked after a moment, wiping down the insides of her thighs.

She bit at the full of her bottom lip, unsure of how to articulate what she had experienced. "It felt weird," she started, unable to find any other word to describe how she felt, "But, I liked it—a lot. I think it helped since it was you, and I love you, but it was... good."

"Jus' good? I thought y'said you almost blacked out?"

Blindly swatting behind her, she landed her hand in the soft swirls of his hair. She playfully pulled at the strands. "I'm too tired to play right now, stop," she laughed.

Her reprimanding hold of his hair turned into gentle carding through the curls as he took care of her. A beat passed, Harry finishing cleaning her up before he helped her into her borrowed shorts. Collapsing onto his bed, her back bouncing over the springs, she figured laundry, including the clothes on the floor, would have to wait for now.

Hovering above her, Harry looked to her with his clear green eyes—the same ones she had seen that first time in her physics class after he had taken a leap and took the seat beside her. She would be eternally grateful he had the confidence to do as much, otherwise she would have never learned just how many greens were in his irises.

"Really," he started out, voice gentle and quiet like a secret, "'M really happy y'felt good. It obviously worked very well on me too."

(Y/N)'s lips turned into an amused smile as she reached up and pushed back the flop of curls covering his forehead. "See, this is why you tell me things like this first—not the stream."

It was a lighthearted tease that had his mouth splitting into a smile, bunny teeth and dimples on display. He dropped his head to press an innocent kiss to the tip of her nose, though it wasn't quite as effective through his smile.

"I've definitely learned my lesson, flower," he murmured.

(Y/N) could only tip her chin and press her lips to his.

—————

this is.....very different SHFUSHFSUH thank u sm for reading, thank you to whoever requested, sorry for any mistakes and if theres any other ideas anyone else wants to see please send them in!

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 1 year ago

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Steve and Eddie lay on the floor of Steve’s living room, staring at the ceiling fan as it moved on the lowest setting. They were both equally high, floating together like they were laying on clouds.

"Eddie?" Steve asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something?" Steve asked.

"Anything, man," Eddie said.

"I like more than one thing," Steve said. "So much more."

"More than one thing of what?" Eddie asked.

"You know how some people like one thing and the opposite thing, but some people like one thing and the opposite thing," Steve said. "I like more than one thing, you know?"

"Like some people like Star Wars and some people like Star Trek, then there are people who say it's the same thing," Eddie said. "Which is bullshit. Some people like both of them, like me."

"You like Star Wars and Star Trek?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, problem?" Eddie asked.

"Nah, man, I'm friends with other nerds," Steve said. "I also like Star Trek and Star Wars. I also like basketball. I like so many things. Is that weird?"

"Nah, man. I don't have a problem with basketball, not anymore," Eddie said. "There's just so many things out there to like, you know. Gotta keep my mind open."

"I think there's a word for what we are. I just can't think of what is," Steve said. "My head is so foggy."

"Yeah, I think your ceiling fan just turned into a helicopter, man," Eddie said.

"Oh, man. I do not want a helicopter in my living room," Steve said.

"You're right. It is better that we're both sober," Vickie said.

Vickie and Robin were sitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them.

"Told you, highly entertaining," Robin said. "Don't worry, once they sober, they'll remember that they're boyfriends and that this is the fifth time they're coming out to each other."

"Eddie?" Steve asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something else?" Steve asked.

"Yeah."

"Like sometimes, I don't feel like a man. Sometimes, I feel like a woman, but other days, I also feel like a man, and like other days, I don't feel like a man or a woman," Steve said. "Is that crazy?"

"Nah."

"Okay. Okay. We are encroaching on a territory I didn't know existed," Robin said with wide eyes.

"What do we do? Do we pretend like we didn't hear that?" Vickie asked.

"I mean, I think so. I don't know," Robin said. "Yeah, I think so. He's got to be the one to come to us on his own with that like he came out as bisexual. So, yeah, I think we just forget."

The next morning. . .

Robin walked downstairs and into her friend's kitchen. He was standing at the counter, drinking coffee. Robin stared at him, her heart full of affection and love for her platonic soulmate.

"Good morning, Robin," Steve said.

"It certainly is, good that is," Robin said, her eyes filling with proud tears.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

Robin sobbed and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly.

"I love you, no matter what shape you come in," Robin said.

"Uh, okay?" Steve asked. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Like if you ever decided to become. . . Astronaut shaped, I think it would be cool. Stars are beautiful, you know, and it's a beautiful thing because we're all made of stardust. And if even if you didn't want to be an astronaut, it would still be beautiful stardust," Robin rambled.

"Robin. . .did you wait until this morning to smoke weed? Why didn't you smoke with us last night?" Steve asked.

"I wanted to see what you and Eddie talked about when you guys were high," Robin said.

"And?" He asked.

"So many wonderful things," Robin sniffled. "I'm so proud of you, and just so you know, I'll support whatever decision you make."

"What if I decide to shave all my hair off?" Steve asked.

"Even then, I'll still love you," Robin said.

"Even my eyebrows?"

"I still love you. . . Dingus."

Robin kissed his forehead and skipped back upstairs to Vickie, leaving Steve with the same wave of affection that hit her just moments ago.

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enchantedflameandflower · 4 months ago

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Gavin (Karl Urban) x reader! Part 5

Gavin gets wet and has to (teasingly) take his flannel and his jeans off, then he wants to get to know ALL of you better, plus tent make-out time.

(I know this isn’t rain wetness but pretend it’s rain wetness)

Summary: When you started working at the lumber mill, you couldn't help but instantly fall in lust with the strong, quiet younger brother. But you're determined to keep it professional, until one work trip suddenly changes it all.

co-written with CheshireCatSmile

@kus-babygirl @shirley-girly @jynx15 @everchar-of-the-shire @scraftsku35

@vavafaure1994 @deathlesun @sickforbillybutcher @butchers-girl @hippo2211

@bohemianblasphemy

karl urban masterlist

direct link to part 1

part 4

Part 5

You can’t remember a time when you’ve ever felt more taken care of and you find yourself missing him weirdly even though he just left and it will only be a few minutes. You change quickly from your jeans into your sweats then climb into your sleeping bag but stay sitting up waiting for him to come back.

You can hear the rain drip-dripping on the roof of the small tent and worry that he's getting soaked as he works. After a few minutes he's crawling into the tent, his damp hair tousled, plastered to his forehead and curling a bit at his nape. "It got heavier a little sooner than I anticipated. The weather pattern is a little off for the season." He shrugs out of his damp jacket. "Shoulda used my rain poncho."

You take his jacket from him and lay it off to the side where it’s out of the way and can hopefully dry a little. “It’s my fault for falling asleep. We sat by the fire too long. Are you going to be comfortable enough?” You chew on your lip.

"I'll be fine, sweetheart. I've weathered worse,” he grins at you. “Besides I have your company...that in itself is a warm pleasure. I need to get out of this wet shirt, though...I hope you don't mind."

You swallow and shake your head. “No, no of course not. I was hoping you would say you would take it off. I mean I was hoping you had something to change into, so your shirt…can dry…” Damn you know you’re blushing again. You’re usually not like this at all.

He looks at you, his dark eyes dancing with mischief as he unbuttons his damp flannel shirt, slowly revealing smooth skin and springy dark chest hair and muscles... Just then the heavens open up to release a downpour that drums steadily on the tent's slanted roof. He looks up toward the top of the tent checking the seam then looks back at you. "We may be stuck here a little while if this doesn't slack off by morning."

You mean to look away and busy yourself with your phone or something but the mischief in his dark eyes just captivates you and you end up just watching him as he unbuttons his shirt. “Well I have to admit I wouldn’t mind a long morning. With you.”

"Hmmmm...that sounds intriguing,” he smiles. He pulls a thermal shirt out and slides it over his head. It fits fairly snuggly over his muscled chest then he tugs his boots off and sets them aside. He pushes his jeans off quickly so he’s just in his knit boxers and slips into his sleeping bag, but not before you get a good long look at his muscled thighs. Propping himself on his elbow with his head leaning on his hand he lets his eyes travel over you then says, "So tell me about yourself. I'd like to get to know you better."

You smile a little then you lay down as well and try to snuggle down in the sleeping bag to get warm. It is a very good sleeping bag and there’s even a nice sleeping pad. “What kinds of things do you want to know?” you murmur. He looks so damn good in his thermal and you keep thinking of the image of him shimmying out of his jeans.

"Mmm....do you have family close by? Or did you travel from far away to come up here to the forest? You seem to like hiking and being outdoors so probably not a city girl...."

You smile. “I actually did grow up in a city but I hated it. We moved out of the city when I was older. My father left when I was young and he eventually just stopped calling. I don’t know where he is. My mom passed away when I was in college. I moved here last year to…get away from that bad relationship. Start over. Or try to.”

His eyes soften and warm as he listens to you. "I had no idea you were completely alone...I mean without family. I guess I used to take mine for granted a lot of the time. Then I almost lost them through my own hard-headedness. You must be really strong deep down to come through all that and be doing so well.” He reaches out and caresses your shoulder.

Your eyes flutter closed for a moment at the touch of his hand and you can’t help wishing for more. “I don’t know if I’m strong,” you murmur. “You know I overheard Jack once…he said he didn’t listen to you that night. That he didn’t believe you and he let you down. That if he had supported you the next day wouldn’t have happened. Maybe it wasn’t completely on you…”

"I don't know. I guess I'm always looking for some way to get ahead and sometimes I should stop and think about something longer before jumping in with both feet.... Maybe I just need someone smart and grounded to rein me in. I mean...without the whole big brother-little brother vibe." He looks at you thoughtfully and moves his hand to stroke your hair.

“Usually having someone that supports you unconditionally in your life can be quite a help,” you smile. “Mmmm Gavin, that feels really good…” you wish somehow you could lean into his touch more, feel more, soak up more of his warmth.

He scoots just a little closer and keeps stroking your hair slowly. "Y'know...your hair is beautiful. I couldn't help it. It feels like warm silk. I kept wondering if it was as soft as it looked. It's softer than I imagined.”

You laugh a little softly. Then you finally give in, reaching your hand out to touch his chest, just barely grazing your fingertips over his shirt. “I don’t think anyone has been this nice to me in years…”

"Oh sweetheart," he says then hesitates... You can see emotions swirling in the depths of his dark eyes. Then it's as though something shifts and settles in him. He reaches out his strong hands and gently pulls you closer, partway out of your sleeping bag and into his chest.

“Gavin,” you murmur breathlessly. You press and burrow into his chest and it feels warm and broad and safe, and your heart is beating just a little faster in that really good way. “You feel so good,” you whisper before you realize what your saying.

He tightens his hold on you. "And you feel perfect in my arms...like you were meant to be here." You can hear his steady heartbeat as he pulls you in closer.

He studies you a moment and then...very very slowly he tilts your face up to him and leans down to brush a tentative kiss over your lips.

His lips are warm and dry and he’s so gentle as he kisses you. You feel like a new warmth comes to life inside of you and a soft little noise escapes you as you slip your hands over his broad shoulders.

He gently coaxes until you let him in and his tongue slides over yours and tangles in a slow dance…possessive but caring.

You whimper softly as you open fully to him. How can this feel so good so quickly… you’ve never felt anything like it. His tongue plays against yours and you wrap your arms around his neck. A soft shiver goes through your whole body.

Gavin pulls you closer to him, tighter against him, willing his heat into you. He continues the surprisingly sensuous kiss, his large hand finding its way under your shirt to smooth over the skin of your lower back. His hands are warm and gentle but the callouses there are a delicious contrast, a sensuous texture that makes you shiver again. He finally lets you up to breath and you try to catch your breath.

“You’re so warm…” you murmur. “If only I could sleep here I wouldn’t worry about getting cold tonight.”

He smiles softly. "I have an idea. Let's zip the sleeping bags together to make a double. We can stay nice and toasty that way. I have a feeling the temperature out here is going to be a lot colder than we first figured.”

“I’m already getting cold so I think you’re right. But are you sure you wouldn’t mind…just sleeping tonight?” There’s still a part of you that’s nervous even though his touch has you imagining all sort of wanton things that you want very much.

"No, sweetheart that's fine with me. I think there could be something special here if we give it a chance. We don’t have to rush it. And that's unusual for me,” his voice goes a little lower, just a little husky. “I just want to hold you and know you're safe in my arms tonight."

~*~*~*~ Next up: waking up in his big strong arms against his big strong chest is an experience, and if there’s one man it’s impossible to go slow with it’s this one

Part 6

karl urban masterlist

#gavin magary #gavin magary x you #gavin magary x reader #karl urban #karl urban fanfiction #karl urban brainrot go brrr #karl urban fanfic #karl urban is the man of my fucking dreams

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terresdebrume · 4 months ago

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I've written a couple of scenes of Charles' having an emotional breakdown and Edwin comforting him, I felt is was time for the reverse. Set in the I'm down on my knees universe at like. Some point, IG.

Warning for mentions of racist behavior throughout and also implied ableism via the Paynes vs Edwin. Hurt comfort. Sorta.

Edwin's fists start mashing together the second his hands come off the steering wheel, which Charles knows very well is the the top one sign of a stress spiral. It's pretty much the default position for Edwin's hands whenever they go to a social thing he hasn't got the hang on yet, and the morning before all his business law exams. It feels wrong to see them like that now, sitting in front of a rustic looking restaurant where his parents are waiting for them.

"We can still leave you know," he tells Edwin. "Tell them I tested positive for COVID and you don't want to risk giving it to them or something."

Edwin doesn't quite laugh, but the corners of his mouth lift up, and the creak of his leather driving gloves subsides for a moment. He makes a face like when he's trying to figure out how to say something he's not sure how to handle. Charles, one hand on his still buckled seatbelt and the other on the door handle, waits him out. Eventually, Edwin speaks.

"I should have said earlier," he says, sounding for all the world like the words are taffy stuck in his teeth, "but my parents are sort of... Well. They have a certain idea of how the world should work and be divided—"

"Yeah, I figured," Charles says. He grins when Edwin blinks at him. "Everyone else, when we've got plans, you say shit like 'Oh, Charles is making curry tonight'—"

"I do not sound like that," Edwin protests, but Charles snorts.

"You sound exactly like that, you big toff," he says, grin widening despite himself.

Edwin rolls his eyes and calls him ridiculous, fists softening against one another. Grinning to the point his cheeks ache, Charles gives Edwin's knee a light knock with his knuckles. It makes Edwin click his tongue, but Charles doesn't lose his smile.

"My point is, with you're parents it's always like 'Charles is making dinner' and stuff. Like you're playing the pronouns game with food."

Charles suppresses a wince when. Edwin's eyes widen and his fists tighten together again, like tectonic plates gearing up for an earthquake. Of course Edwin was going to take it the wrong way. Charles should have bloody well known better.

"I'm sorry," Edwin says, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," Charles shrugs. "I mean they know what I look like, right?"

"Yes!" Edwin promises, hands so tight together it looks like they're going to merge. "Of course. I made sure they couldn't pretend they'd misunderstood, too, I just—"

"Then I'm fine," Charles says, making sure his smile looks easier than it feels. "I was friends with racist gits for years, I can handle your parents for an hour."

Plus, they'll be in public. What are the Paynes gonna do, try to make him join the staff? Calling him the P slur over dessert? They might think it but Charles suspects they're too interested in seeming proper to be that crassly racist where they can be heard. Probably they'll just make some noise about certain types of people and NHS fraud and jobs being stolen away from the homeless people they have no intention to help. Maybe something about Islam—there people tend to assume Charles is a Muslim a lot. He chalks it up to two birds one stone mentality, and the appeal of unlocking two rants over a single guy.

"Alright," Edwin says, looking relieved but not guilt free yet. "But if you wish to leave early, please pretend you just remembered a favour you promised Jenny, will you? I will drive us back immediately."

"Sure, I'll do that," Charles promises. He genuinely doesn't think it'll be that bad, but if he's wrong he'll be glad have the out anyway.

Reassured, Edwin takes a deep breath, and nods, and in they go. Everything is very posh in that very 'bling is for lesser people' kind of way. The menu predictably shows no prices. Edwin's parents make the usual thinly veiled remarks about Charles and Indians and brown people in general, and it's not the most comfortable but Charles could deal with it if not for the Issue.

It starts when they approach the table, Edwin's parents standing next to it with spines so straight Charles half worries he's hunched down again. Edwin places his hands in his mother's to kiss the air around each of her cheek, but then when he goes to press his fists together again, she takes his wrists and pulls his hands apart. Charles's entire back goes rigid at the sight, but he manages to push it aside and smile as he extends a hand for Mrs. Payne to shake. He said he'd do his best to make the dinner a success, and he meant it.

They sit down, Edwin and Charles on one side of the rectangular table, Edwin's parents on the other. Edwin's hands are very flat on the white tablecloth, gloves pulled away and fingers carefully aligned together. They stay there while Edwin answers increasingly invasive questions about his studies and his life, but they drift together again when the Paynes' attention turns to Charles.

"Stop that," Mr. Payne says with a stern look, cutting himself off in the middle of a sanctimonious explanation of why Charles is not being ambitious enough in life.

It's such a complete contrast to the polite, vaguely affable air he took one when speaking to Charles, and he goes back to it so quickly, Charles barely has time to react. The only thing he can think of is to press his knee against Edwin's in comfort. He should have thought of a signal for Edwin, too. Or at least asked if he wanted one.

The entree's arrival provokes some surprised praise over how their brown waiter is surprisingly well trained and articulate, and Charles takes it in stride. They're not actually saying anything to the waiter, and when they do speak he's out of earshot. He's had worse, and Edwin doesn't quite seem to be ready to throw the towel in, so he'll stick it out a bit longer. Even if Edwin's going pinker and pinker with every minute that passes.

They're about halfway through their main dishes and another rant from Mr. Payne—augmented by his wife's approving noise and not much else, Edwin having fallen silent somewhere around the time his gaspacho touched the table. Charles hates to see him like this: Edwin has always had a big personality, a larger than average presence in any room. He should be leading the conversation, or at least insisting on being heard through it, not looking down at the tablecloth with his mouth shut.

Charles is halfway through opening his mouth to pretend Jenny just texted him about plumbing issues, when Edwin's dad speaks again. He has the kind of articulation they promote on the BBC, yet Charles doesn't register any of what he says, only the fact that Edwin's fists fly together without him even noticing, and then Mr. Payne's hand darts from the other side of the table to slap Edwin's closed hands.

Now, see, the thing about Charles, is he's got excellent reflexes. Between dodging his dad's many and varied projectiles over the years, a decade of cricket, and countless hours of playing shooting games, he's pretty much primed for it. Add to that the fact that he's been getting angrier and angrier on Edwin's behalf throughout the meal, and really Charles doesn't think he can be blamed for dropping his knife, reaching out, and slapping Mr. Payne's hands.

"How dare you?" The man hisses in the deadly silence that falls over the room after the exchange.

The whole restaurant seems to hold its breath, the way Charles and mum used to do whenever dad stopped and asked 'What did you just say?'. In the corner of Charles' vision, Edwin's mouth hangs partially open in shock even as Charles hisses:

"How dare you?"

"The way I discipline my son," Mr. Payne starts, and Charles snarls.

"Your son is twenty-five," he says raising his voice on purpose. "You don't get to treat him like a bloody toddler."

"You little—" Payne senior starts, but before Edwin even has the time to react to his dangerous tone, Charles stands up with a loud scrape of his chair against the floor.

"And another thing," he says, loudly speaking over the fast purpling man in front of him, "there's nothing wrong with Edwin. That thing with the hand? You're making a mountain out of a bloody molehill! And if you didn't spend so much time worrying about it, maybe you'd realize Edwin is really bloody mint, actually, and if you can't appreciate him, then I don't see why we should bother staying here at all." Charles pushes his chair back against the table with another loud scrape, and turns to Edwin. "Come on, let's go."

Edwin's parents protest, mildly at first and then more loudly, but Charles doesn't care. He's too furious at them, at the way they filled their son with a sort of guilty shame Charles had never seen until the, at the way they somehow managed to stop him from even wanting to answer.

He waits until Edwin stands up, and then he takes hold of Edwin's wrist and drags the both of them outside. Edwin has to tug hard on his arm to remind him they used a car to come in, actually, and they can't leave it there. He sounds—well he sounds strained, is what he does. The sort of voice that means there's an emotion somewhere he's not letting out, and this time Charles knows exactly where it's going.

"I'm so sorry," he says, "I ruined dinner!"

"Oh," Charles, Edwin sighs.

His eyes are wide and wet and his grin ks kind of wobbly, but he steps up and engulfs Charles in hug anyway, hands tightly clasped around Charles waist. Charles responds in kind, putting as much love as he can into the embrace, into the pressure of his arms around Edwin.

"Thank you," Edwin mumbles against Charles' neck. "No one ever stood up for me line that."

"They bloody well should have," Charles says, gentling his tone when he realizes something warm dripping down his neck.

Edwin, too busy controlling his crying the best he can, doesn't answer, but it doesn't matter. Charles holds him tight until he's done crying anyway.

#dead boy detectives #dbda fanfic #charles rowland #edwin payne #payneland #s: I'm down on my knees #matt writes #30n #40n #50n #60n #70n #80n #90n #100n

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milkytheholy1 · 2 months ago

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Shadow Generations: Part 1

A/N: briefly based on Shadow Generations, this will eventually contain an x GN reader.

"Shadow, wherever you are, I'll always be with you."

There was certainly something strange happening today, at least that's what Shadow thought. Though now thinking back to it, there were definitely some red flags: being invited to Sonic's birthday party was the first one.

It wasn't unheard of that the two hedgehogs sometimes fought, and sure, on the occasion Shadow would help the blue faker out. But to be invited to his birthday party? That was another level of torture Shadow didn't know if he could handle.

The second red flag was receiving a message from G.U.N first thing in the morning, some old tech on the ARK had blipped back online and was sensing some bizarre anomalies. Shadow often dreamt of the ARK, tormenting himself on the ways he could have saved the Professor and Maria.

"You doing alright, Brood-o?" Rouge hummed, a small smirk dancing on her lips. She held some birthday decorations in her hands, Shadow couldn't believe she had actively volunteered to help out.

"Hmpf, I told you to stop calling me that." he hissed, Rouge couldn't help the devilish cackle that fell from her lips. Nodding her head to the G.U.N transponder, she got closer to Shadow so the others couldn't hear, "What's that all about? Do they need us already?"

"No, Towers wants me to head to the ARK."

"The ARK? Haven't they got better things to do than to send us up there?" Rouge didn't often get mad, she got frustrated but never mad. Shadow shrugged his shoulders, "Not we, just me. One of the Professor's computers came back online and started reporting a strange energy, G.U.N wants me to go check it out."

Rouge glared at the hedgehog, of course he wouldn't sit around and wait for the party to start, god forbid he'd actually help them to decorate. Placing one hand on her hip and balancing the decorations in the other, she pulled an expression Shadow had rarely seen from her before: Worry.

"Jus- Just be safe, okay? I know it's...difficult for you up there."

"I'll be fine, Rouge." For once Shadow didn't pretend to be the tough guy, he reassured his friend and she appreciated that. Shadow and Rouge's friendship was a weird one, one minute they'll be at each other's throats and then next they'll be thinking like one.

The time for goodbye quickly ended as Shadow jetted off, ready to start his mission.

--- Time Skip to the ARK ---

The ARK, a place where the world's best scientists were set with the task of curing mankind. A place of innovation and excitement, my first thoughts were here, my first memories. I can only wonder what great things the scientists would have accomplished in time, if not for what happened.

I remember the first time I opened my eyes, my first time seeing the world I was created into. Those blonde locks and big blue eyes were my first introduction to humans.

Maria...

Shadow raced around the familiar route of the ARK, speeding down hallways he would often walk along with her. Before checking the main console where the device lay, Shadow took a detour to the Professor's lab. On the way there he dashed past an all too friendly room. Drawings dawned on every wall, the bed was made neatly like it always was, there were hair brushes and headbands on the desk and a small teddy on her bed.

He couldn't help himself but stare into the darkened space, never stepping foot in there for fear he would never want to leave.

Remember the mission.

Arriving at the Professor's lab, Shadow noted all the torn documents haphazardly strewn across the room, he picked up the first thing he saw, a newspaper clipping torn at the edges:

Professor Gerald Robotnik, lead scientist on the Space Colony: ARK, has once again proved science is the future with new weapons to be sent to American Troops to win the tide of war.

While not much is known about the scientist or his work on the ARK, the United States Government seems impressed by the research and work Robotnik is carrying out.

When asked for the reasoning about the massive space station, Robotnik had this to say: "While science is always a big motivator, my biggest reasoning for the creation of the ARK is to find cures for those who need it, and space is the cleanest and safest place to do so."

It is no surprise that the safest place 'off of Earth' houses Gerald's granddaughter, Maria Robotnik. Not much is known about her condition, but it is safe to say she will be alright and in the best hands of the team of scientists in the Space Colony: ARK.

How foolish he was to think they were untouchable up here, no matter where they were they would have always been targeted. Placing the clipping back down, Shadow turned to the testing tube he once called home. Shuddering at the things he had to endure and suffer, he eventually left and headed to the main console.

The vast expanse of space was almost as scary as its immeasurable scale of beauty, large windows encapsulated the ARK's main sector, and lying in the middle of the room was a large pillar with a yellow shine shimmering in the broken lighting of the ARK.

"It can't be..." Shadow whispered, approaching the object. Pulling out his own chaos emerald he compared it to the one that lay before him, "Tails' fake emerald, we used this last time we came to the ARK. You were very clever, Fox. But it will never compare to the real thing."

Radio static disturbed his momentary peace, "Shadow, Shadow, can you hear me-"

"Rouge? I hear you, I've made it to the ARK, not much has changed since we last paid a visit."

"Did you find -Zstz- the console? What's the -zTsZ- anomaly?" Rouge's voice fizzled in and out. Shadow approached the machine, tapping away though he soon learned the computer was completely inoperational.

"How strange? Rouge, the ARK's computer isn't fully active, I can't access information on this anomaly."

"Do you think it's just a bug?"

Suddenly the left-hand side of the ARK started dissolving into nothingness, Shadow's eyes widened, his grip on the computer loosening. Pulling the radio closer to his mouth he spoke his final words to Rouge, "I found it." Before Rouge could continue, Shadow was ripped away from the console, powerless to do anything to stop himself from falling.

#shadow the hedgehog #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog idw #shadow the hedgehog x reader #fandom #fan #fanfiction #fanfic #reader #shadow the ultimate lifeform #shadow the hedghog fanart #sonic the hedgehog #sonic x shadow generations

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strongheartneteyam · 8 months ago

Text

I wet you like water but she stained you like blood.

Pairing: widowed!dilf!jake sully x younger!female!human!reader

CW: slight sexual language, can be triggering to some, heartbreak, age gap kink, hurt/no comfort, age gap relationship problems, angst, reader reminiscing (pls tell me if I missed anything)

So, yeah... I never know when I'm gonna come back with another writing. My hiatus n working periods are all a bit unpredictable lol sorry. Anyways... I literally spent the whole night awake n I was struck by a sudden lightning of creativity early in the morning and I edited this chapter n wrote a bit more, but I still haven't slept at all, so, I apologize if some parts of this make no sense at all. I'll fix it when I can. Hope you guys like it <3 ily guys a whole lot :)) obs: this chapter is a shorter one.

Slightly proofread.

Chapter 4 𓆩♡𓆪

They say all's well that ends well

But I'm in a new hell every time you double-cross my mind

You said if we had been closer in age maybe it would've been fine

And that made me want to die

The idea you had of me, who was she?

A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you

All Too Well - 10 minutes Version (Taylor Swift)

𓆩♡𓆪

It had been 1 year since the last time you saw Jacob Sully. Or Jakey, like you used to call him. The wound never healed. It still throbbed and bled every time you remembered the words he told you that dreadful day. "I think we should stop seeing each other." It felt like you would never get over him. How can one get over such an overpowering, raw feeling? He marked you forever, like a bruise that seemed to never disappear from your skin.

The flashback came like thunder in a storm, haunting your thoughts with a loud pain that echoed through your mind. What you told Jake that night.

“The truth is I love you. The truth is I can't take this anymore. I'm giving you my everything but you don't seem to be doing the same. You're still guarded.” There was a tense period of silence “Jake… I love you. But I don't think you feel the same.”

Maybe you shouldn't have said anything. Maybe if you had kept your mouth shut, he would still be with you.

Ugh!! Stop that, now, (y/n)! Some self love, please? You're better than this. You deserve better.

You tried to convince yourself of that, at least.

The pain was unbearable at times and almost easy to conceal at other times. It depended on how distracted with work or your studies you were. These days you ran to any distraction that could ease the perpetual angst that squeezed your heart inside its hands all the fucking time. It had been like that ever since Jake left you. What were you expecting anyway? You should have known you were never truly loved by Jake. The love of his life was Neytiri and it would always be, alive and walking through Pandora or dead and with Eywa.

It felt beyond weird to have to hear people talking about Jake and have to pretend he was a stranger to you, someone you barely knew, when he had actually left a mark so strong on you, a memory ingrained in your brain, a feeling, a pain buried inside your heart that made you want to scream and hit your head against a wall. That's how much it hurt.

You would never have his body against yours again, warming you up when it was cold, after you spent the whole day in that damn lab, studying Pandoran plants but all you could really concentrate on was how much you missed his reassuring, protective presence. He made you feel safe for the first time in your life. But now he is gone. Just like every single good thing you ever had in your life. But you know what? Maybe your mother was right, maybe love wasn't really something that could ever last forever.

Did Jake ever really make a real effort to be with you? Thinking back, it was extremely easy for him to just come to you and fuck you anytime he felt sad and lonely. What if you had just been a naive, dumb girl all this time? Were you mourning a love that never actually existed? It was always so hard to talk to him about his feelings for you, he never actually let you in, to be honest. All the time you two spent together, you were never able to know if he ever saw you as a partner or just a fuck buddy.

Oh, but the high… it was worth all the lows. The butterflies in your stomach every time you guys were almost caught fucking in the back of your work room by Norm. Eventually you guys had to tell him about your situationship because, oh well… he already knew what was going on, really. Norm is not a fool or a child. He could add 2 plus 2.

The adrenaline was worth all the tears. And, fuck… you would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

𓆩♡𓆪

Taglist:

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@fairyyrosee

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@ufiy

@yeosxxx

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asliceofzosan · 10 months ago

Text

On Sanji's birthday, a smaller version of him shows up on the Sunny one day. Sanji reflects on who he once was and finally learns to forgive himself.

Happiest Birthday to Sanji <3

He was so small.

He wished it was like looking into a mirror — where he could clearly see everything about him that he considered weak in those glassy blue eyes that would never stop crying. But it didn't even feel like he was looking at who he once was, who he once remembered being, living, and breathing as.

He was so small.

Small enough that the birthday hat that Luffy made for him out of cardboard and rubber bands flopped over his forehead and covered his eyes. Those tiny, shaking hands gripped the tip of the hat and peeked from beneath the shade, confused but captivated by his captain's ever present grin. Small enough that when he was handed a riceball, he had to hold both hands out just so he wouldn't drop it.

He was so small.

And Sanji had forgotten how small he once was.

"You haven't moved for a solid ten minutes," Usopp said as he slid up next to him, leaning against the railing with a drink in his hand. "I'm sure baby Sanji won't get hurt if you look away, you know?"

"I'm not worried about him getting hurt." Sanji still kept his eyes on his younger self regardless. He was now playing a little card game with Chopper, who more or less didn't know the rules to the game either. So neither of them were winning.

"Okay," Usopp elongates the last syllable before sipping his drink. "Then go have fun, man! It's your birthday, after all."

Sanji hums and moves to light a cigarette. But one look at his baby self running around with Luffy and Chopper made him decide against it. Usopp pretends not to see the way Sanji brushes off the gesture like he always meant to do that.

Waking up with a crying child in his bunk bed this morning was not how he pictured his birthday to start out. Waking up and seeing the version of him with that wretched steel helmet on his head was something else entirely. His younger self looked terrified and almost tried to escape – run away from him.

"P-Please... Don't hurt me..." The little boy said, his trembling hands covering his head as if that would truly protect him. Sanji's heart broke. It's been years since he thought of this moment, years since Whole Cake Island, and years more since Germa ever occupied the forefront of his mind. So seeing his younger self, shaking and crying and begging for his life, stirred something protective within him. Protect the child inside of him that was screaming to be held for once, held tenderly, held like he was loved.

"I won't hurt you," Sanji said with his voice barely above a whisper. "No one will hurt you here."

"How do you know that?"

Sanji swallowed, ducking his head. Living on a pirate ship doesn't necessarily guarantee safety. But there's one thing he can always guarantee when he's with the Straw Hats...

"I know because you're loved," The little Sanji's eyes clouded with doubt. Sanji understood all too well why. So he slowly reached out, his hands stopping just shy of the lock on the helmet. Little Sanji moved back a fraction of an inch but Sanji just smiled at him. "Let's get this off of you and I'll show you just how loved you are."

Years ago, if he saw this version of him, he would have tried to avoid the kid like the plague. He didn't want to be reminded of such a horrid time. He didn't want to remember a point in his life where he was too weak, too fragile, too human.

But now it is different.

Now, he knows that being too human was not his greatest flaw but his greatest strength. And that being weak doesn't mean he can't be strong too. It may have taken him so many years to get to that point. But better late than never, right? He doesn't know what will happen if he lets his younger self know that he'll find these people one day. But he's lived through tough times with a dream and the smallest spark of hope that Luffy and his crew kept ignited.

And it wouldn't be such a bad thing to let his kid self... finally be a kid.

"Hey," Usopp nudged Sanji and pointed with his lips in one direction. "Check out who little you took a liking to."

Sanji looked back just in time to see a certain green-haired swordsman giving tiny Sanji a piggyback ride. Something mushy and sappy and gross stirred inside his heart. One that he hasn't been a stranger to for a couple of years now. His hand subconsciously gravitates to the long golden earring dangling from his left ear and finds himself smiling as his younger self laughs at something Zoro said.

"I wanna grow up to be as big and strong as you!" Little Sanji exclaims, his tiny arms wrapped securely around Zoro's neck and shoulders. Zoro laughs — a loud guffaw that shouldn't be as attractive to Sanji as it is this very moment. He reaches up to ruffle little Sanji's hair.

"You'll become even better, little buddy."

"Even stronger than you?!?"

"That's debatable," Zoro says with a little snort. Sanji rolls his eyes with more affection than he ever wants to admit. Within that time, Zoro has transferred little Sanji off of his back and into his arms, and the image of Zoro holding this version of Sanji – with a tenderness he only ever reserves for Chopper – has his mind racing with scenarios his heart can barely take.

"One of the strongest people I know is also the kindest," Zoro says, tucking a strand of blond hair behind little Sanji's ear. "No matter how many people put him down, he'll serve 'em if they're hungry. Doesn't mean jack shit to him if they've got the highest bounty in all the Blues."

"And I think..." Zoro looks up and locks gazes with present Sanji — his Sanji — and gives him a wink. "If you ain't got a big heart, there's no way you can't be strong."

"My father says I care too much..." Little Sanji says, his hands bunch up the fabric of Zoro's shirt. Zoro smooths the hair out of his forehead and does something that makes Sanji's stomach do backflips.

He kisses the little one on the forehead.

"We all need someone who cares a little too much." Zoro assures him and it feels like Zoro isn't speaking to baby Sanji anymore. His eyes are stuck on the man he married, his gaze unwavering and true, and Sanji can't help but blink back a few tears that were forming the whole time. "It's okay for you to care. It's okay for you to feel. Heck, it took me a hell of a long time to learn to love someone properly as much as I do now."

Little Sanji looks up at Zoro, stars in his all blue eyes. "Will I get to love someone too?"

"Of course you do, kid." Zoro ruffles his hair again and touches the tips of their noses together briefly. "You're so loved, Sanji."

Hearing that, Little Sanji's eyes flick over to older Sanji, who's been watching them the whole time. Remembering their previous conversation, Little Sanji smiles the biggest smile that could put every star in the sky to shame.

I'll show you just how loved you are.

When everyone is asleep and the only ones left on the deck are a tired little blond cook-to-be and his future self, something in the air tells them that it might almost be time to go. Little Sanji's arms were wrapped around older Sanji's neck, his head resting on the man's chest so he can hear his steady heartbeat.

"This was the best birthday ever," Little Sanji says as he fights back a yawn. Sanji chuckles, holding the boy a little tighter.

"You'll have so many more birthdays like this, kid."

"Will Zoro be in all of them?"

Sanji laughs. Leave it up to his tiny self to also fall hopelessly in love with his oaf of a husband. Time is a circle, perhaps. "Not all of them. But enough of them to matter."

"That's good," Little Sanji whispers, nuzzling even closer into Sanji's space. Silence befalls them and distant wind chimes greet them. Little Sanji stirs, unsure. "I don't wanna leave."

"I know."

"I'll be back, right?" Little Sanji looks up at him, that same fear burning in his gaze. But Sanji sees something brighter there – the persistent spark of hope that things will eventually get better. That he'll leave that cold lifeless cell and breathe in the salty sea air on a pirate ship that has never been more alive.

He wants this version of him to always have that spark. For that spark will eventually become a roaring fire – the one that tells everyone that Black Leg Sanji is here. And he's here to stay.

"You will," Sanji tells him, giving his younger self one last bright smile. "It's gonna take a while, buddy. But you'll be right here."

Little Sanji mirrors his smile, reaches out to hold his face between his tiny hands, and presses their foreheads together. In the blink of an eye, the child was gone, and Sanji lets out the shakiest sigh. He leans his head back to rest against the wall, feeling happier than he's ever been since the day he got married.

"You'll be right back here, kid." Sanji whispers into the air, reaching his hand out to the sky to trace his own constellations. His own path. His own vision of the future, fortified by the euphoria of living in his present.

Sanji's other hand goes back to his left ear. Back to that earring. And smiles.

"Because you are so loved."

Happy Birthday, Sanji 🥹 I know this is late but I really wanted to write something for my favorite babygirl. Something a little different to the Zoro birthday piece because I need my boy to admit how loved he is 💛💛

#Happy Birthday Sanji!#one piece #sanji #roronoa zoro #zosan #usopp #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #the obligatory de-aged sanji fic but make it less angsty ??#niki's fics: your future march

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d-z20 · 9 days ago

Text

Echoes Of The Past

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

Summary: Agatha Harkness, stripped of her magic and trapped in the mundane life of Agnes O'Connor, grapples with her feelings of powerlessness, grief, and lingering hatred towards Wanda. When an old foe returns, a series of events forces Agatha to confront painful memories, unexpected alliances, and the deep emotional scars of losing her son.

-OR-

Rio saves Agatha but gets punished for it, leading Agatha to confront her unresolved grief, guilt, and complex emotions towards the woman who took her son.

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst(ish), mentions death of a child (Nicholas), description of injury/blood, mild violence, just a little fluff at the end

Words: 2.8k

A/N: Agatha All Along Week Day 4: Hurt/Comfort. Based off a request

AO3 | Masterlist

Westview was calm now; its residents were trying their hardest to return to their lives after the chaos Wanda Maximoff had unleashed. Streets were mundane again: smiling neighbours mowing lawns, morning greetings, grocery runs. But to Agatha Harkness, it was purgatory.

She could still hear Wanda’s voice in her head: "I'll keep you here. You’ll play the role you chose... the nosy neighbour."

Agnes O'Connor.

She had managed to break free from the spell a few months ago but the disguise still clung to her like cobwebs. Floral dresses, cheap pearls, and a Cheshire smile. Every morning, Agatha brushed her curls into place, slipped on the same smile, and went about her day pretending to be someone she wasn’t. All the while, she seethed. Not only because she was powerless—no longer a witch capable of bending magic to her will—but because of her. Wanda Maximoff. The Scarlet Witch. That girl had walked away with everything Agatha had worked centuries for, leaving her in this cruel mortal prison.

But that wasn’t all. When she looked into the mirror, Agatha saw something deeper in the lines of her face: failure. Losing her magic was one thing, but losing Nicholas…

Her throat tightened. No, don’t think about Nicky.

Shaking the thoughts away, Agatha stepped onto her front porch, watering can in hand.

"Morning, Agnes!"

The voice of her neighbour, Sarah Proctor, cut through the silence. Agatha turned and flashed her perfect grin.

"Oh, good morning! Isn’t it just lovely out today?"

It was exhausting. Pretending. Hiding. But it was better than confronting the truth—she had nothing left. Not her power, not her son, not her pride. Just her hatred for Wanda and a mask she wore far too well.

—

Agatha felt them before she saw them.

Late that evening, she stood in her dimly lit kitchen, sipping a lukewarm beer and staring into nothing. The hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the house were the only sounds keeping her company.

Then it came. A ripple.

A crawling sensation against her skin—like unseen eyes turning her way. Her hands trembled as she set the bottle down, the glass clinking against the countertop.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”

It couldn’t be.

The knock came moments later. Sharp. Intentional.

Agatha turned toward the door, dread pooling in her stomach. For a moment, she stood frozen, paralysed by the weight of her powerlessness. Then, as if drawn by some force beyond her control, she moved. The floorboards creaked under her feet as she reached for the doorknob and pulled it open.

There they were.

The Salem Seven.

They looked almost exactly as she remembered them: cloaked figures draped in flowing black robes, their forms blending seamlessly with the shadows. Each one stood unnaturally still, their presence suffocating the space around them. The fabric of their hoods fell forward, swallowing their faces in darkness, but what little she could see sent chills down her spine. Pale, almost skeletal features peeked out, obscured further by intricate webs of black thread crisscrossing their skin like a cruel tapestry. Their eyes—white, empty, and cold—glowed faintly from within the shadows of their hoods, void of any humanity.

The leader stepped forward, the sound of their robes rustling like dead leaves. Their face, more visible than the others, bore the same unnerving stitching. The threads pulled at their mouth and cheekbones, distorting their features into a permanent, silent scream.

“Agatha Harkness.”

The sound of her real name cut through her like a blade.

“Oh, it’s you,” Agatha sneered, though the fear trembled in her voice. “Didn’t we settle this last time? You lost. I won.”

“Yes,” Vertigo said, voice cold. “But you are powerless now. Helpless. You are nothing.”

Agatha tried to slam the door, but magic—their magic—threw her backward. She crashed to the ground; the wind knocked out of her lungs. Pain flared across her back as she gasped, trying to recover. But when she looked up, the Seven were already inside, towering over her like spectres.

“What… what do you want?” She croaked, desperate to keep her voice from shaking.

“Revenge,” the Seven hissed.

The air crackled with energy. Even without magic, Agatha could feel it radiating off them like heat.

She scrambled backward on the floor, but there was nowhere to run.

The first blow struck her chest, sending her crashing into the wall. Pain bloomed across her ribs, and warmth trickled down her skin. Agatha gasped sharply, her fingers instinctively reaching for the wound. When she pulled her hand back, it came away slick with blood. Her head spun, and for a moment, she thought that was it. That this was how it would end.

But then she felt it. Her.

A sharp, familiar chill flooded the room—so cold it stole the air from her lungs. The Salem Seven hesitated, sensing it too. Then the shadows in the corner of the room shifted.

“Enough.”

The voice rang out, clear as a bell, freezing everyone in place.

From the darkness stepped Rio.

Death incarnate.

She was exactly as Agatha remembered her. The years had not touched her—they couldn’t. Long black hair cascaded over her shoulders like silk, and her piercing eyes seemed to cut through the room itself. Her beauty was otherworldly, but there was something else now, too. A weight. A sadness.

Agatha’s heart leapt into her throat. For a moment, she forgot the pain. Forgot the Salem Seven entirely.

“Rio,” she whispered.

Rio’s eyes met hers, softening for only a moment before turning icy once more.

“Leave her,” Rio said to the Seven. Her tone was steady, commanding. “She will not die tonight.”

“You dare interfere?” The Seven snarled.

“Yes,” Rio said simply.

Before the Seven could react, Rio raised her hand. The room seemed to darken, the shadows stretching toward her like eager servants. The Seven screamed as Rio unleashed her power, a wave of darkness crashing over them. The force of it—and the substantial loss of blood—knocked Agatha unconscious.

—

When Agatha came to, the house was silent. The air was still heavy with magic, but the Salem Seven were gone. Rio kneeled beside her, worry etched into her pale skin.

"You... you saved me,” Agatha rasped, her voice weak.

Rio’s lips twitched. “You don’t sound grateful.”

Agatha pushed herself up, wincing at the lingering pain in her chest. Her eyes narrowed. “Why?” she hissed. “Why you? Haven’t you taken enough from me already?”

Rio stilled. Her expression darkened. “What are you talking about?”

“Nicholas.”

The word shattered the silence and Rio’s face fell.

“You took our son,” Agatha whispered, her voice cracking. “I wanted more time. But you ripped him away from me, and you expect me to believe you care?”

Rio looked down, guilt flickering across her features. “Agatha, you know I had no choice. Life isn’t mine to control. I loved him, too.”

Agatha laughed bitterly. “Loved him? Loved him? You don’t get to say that!”

Rio’s jaw clenched, and for the first time, she looked small. Human. “I never wanted to take him,” Rio said quietly. “But I had to.”

Agatha turned away, anger and grief burning in her chest. “Get out.”

Rio hesitated. Her lips parted as if to say something, but in the end, she vanished, leaving Agatha alone with her ghosts.

—

The hours after Rio left crawled by in a fog. Agatha slumped into an armchair, her body exhausted from the night’s events. She stared at nothing, fingers trembling as they traced over her locket. The silence was suffocating, and she couldn’t decide whether it was better or worse than Rio’s presence.

Her thoughts spiralled, dragging her back to him. Nicky. His laugh echoed in her mind—soft and warm, the sound of a child who had no idea how cruel the world could be.

And then there was Rio, the woman who had taken him.

“I needed more time,” she whispered bitterly to the empty room.

Grief had a way of rotting everything it touched. It turned memories into blame and love into resentment. Rio had been the reaper who came for her son, and though Agatha had known—truly known—that it wasn’t Rio’s choice, knowing didn’t dull the ache.

A sharp knock at the door broke her reverie.

Her head snapped up, and dread twisted in her gut. For a fleeting moment, she thought the Salem Seven had returned, ready to finish the job. With a groan, she forced herself up from the chair and slinked toward the door.

“Whoever it is, go away,” she growled, not having the energy to pretend to be cheery Agnes.

But the knocking persisted, weaker this time. Almost…desperate.

Against her better judgement, Agatha opened the door. Her breath caught.

Rio was there, swaying on her feet; blood smudged across her temple and soaking through the fabric of her dark clothes. Her pale skin was even paler than usual, and her eyes were dull, as if the fight had drained her. Agatha had never seen her like this.

“Agatha…” Rio whispered, voice ragged. Before Agatha could react, Rio crumpled forward.

“Damn it!” Agatha hissed, catching her just in time. The weight of Rio’s body nearly pulled her down with her, but Agatha gritted her teeth and eased the woman inside, half-carrying, half-dragging her to the couch.

For a moment, Agatha stood over her, chest heaving. Rio’s breathing was shallow, her face a mess of dirt, blood, and sweat. Her hands twitched faintly, and Agatha frowned as she noticed the burns on her palms.

Agatha’s eyes narrowed as she studied Rio more closely, her gaze catching the angry burns on her palms. Her stomach twisted with a sickening realisation.

“You broke the rules,” she muttered, her voice trembling. She swallowed hard, piecing it together. “That’s what this is. You stopped them from killing me and it upset the natural order. You saved me—and now you’re suffering for it.”

Rio stirred faintly, but she didn’t wake. Agatha’s jaw clenched as her mind raced. It wasn’t just the wounds. There was something deeper. Something crueller.

“They made you feel it, didn’t they?” Agatha whispered. “The pain meant for me.”

The words hung heavy in the room. It made sense—Rio couldn’t die, but that didn’t mean the other cosmic forces wouldn’t make her pay. Her injuries were raw; they had made sure she could not heal herself from the injuries. Agatha reached out hesitantly, brushing her fingers against Rio’s burns. For the first time in centuries, Death had been made to suffer like a mortal.

“Just like me,” Agatha muttered bitterly, though the anger in her voice wavered.

“Why did you do it?” Agatha breathed, shaking her head as she crouched down beside the couch. Her fingers hovered over Rio’s wounds instinctively, the muscle memory of magic nearly taking over. But there was nothing. Wanda had stripped her bare, leaving her powerless—just a mortal woman kneeling in front of Death herself.

“Figures,” Agatha muttered bitterly. “You’re supposed to take lives, not nearly lose your own.”

Rio stirred faintly at the sound of her voice, her lashes fluttering, but she didn’t wake.

Agatha sighed and stood up, disappearing into the kitchen. She returned with a bowl of warm water, some towels, and a small first-aid kit she’d barely touched since arriving in Westview. She sat back down on the floor beside the couch and reached out to Rio’s face, dabbing at the blood and grime carefully.

“Lucky for you,” Agatha muttered. “I’ve had a lot of practice playing mortal.”

It felt strange. Intimate, even. Her touch softened despite herself, her thumb brushing Rio’s cheek as she wiped away a smear of dirt. Rio’s face, even marred with exhaustion and injury, was still achingly familiar. Agatha knew it better than her own sometimes—every line, every shadow. She hated that she still remembered.

I needed more time.

The words rang in her head again. Agatha squeezed her eyes shut, her jaw clenching as she dropped the towel into the bowl. She didn’t need this. She didn’t want this.

Yet here Rio was, bleeding on her couch, and Agatha couldn’t bring herself to stop caring.

“Why are you here, Rio?” Agatha whispered to the unconscious woman, her voice barely audible. “What do you want from me now?”

Rio didn’t answer, of course. But as Agatha stared at her bruised face, the anger slowly ebbed, replaced by something softer. Something more dangerous.

“Damn you,” Agatha said, her voice cracking. She picked up the towel again, dabbing at Rio’s wounds with painstaking care. “Damn you for coming back.”

—

The room was dark by the time Rio woke. She let out a sharp inhale as though startled awake and immediately winced. Every muscle in her body protested, and her head throbbed like it had been split in two.

“You’re awake.”

Rio turned her head sharply, flinching as pain shot through her neck. Agatha sat at the end of the couch, perched on the edge like a hawk. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, and her eyes glared daggers at Rio—but there was something else beneath them, something softer.

“Where…?” Rio’s voice came out raspy and hoarse.

“My house,” Agatha said curtly. “You nearly bled out on my doorstep, if you could even do that, so you’re welcome.”

Rio blinked slowly, confusion clouding her face as she tried to sit up. Agatha reached out instinctively, a hand pressed against her shoulder to stop her.

“Don’t,” Agatha said sharply. “You’re in no shape to be moving.”

Rio paused, surprised by the contact, and for a brief second, their eyes locked. Agatha pulled her hand back quickly, as though burnt.

Rio sank back down, exhaling softly. "You didn’t have to help me.”

“No, I didn’t,” Agatha shot back, standing up abruptly. “Believe me, I thought about leaving you there.”

Rio tilted her head slightly, her lips curling faintly in that ghost of a smile that had haunted Agatha for years. “But you didn’t.”

Agatha froze mid-step, then turned to glare at her. “Don’t look so smug. Agnes O’Connor would never have someone like you at her door; you’d break my cover.”

Rio chuckled softly, though it ended in a grimace of pain. Agatha sighed, rolling her eyes as she paced back toward the couch.

“You’re an idiot,” Agatha muttered, grabbing the first-aid kit and crouching down again. “You knew they’d come for me. Why would you interfere?”

Rio’s expression softened, her gaze drifting away. “Because it’s you.”

Agatha stilled, her hands hovering over Rio’s injuries. She looked up slowly, meeting Rio’s eyes.

“Don’t,” Agatha whispered, her voice shaking. “Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s the truth,” Rio said quietly.

Agatha swallowed hard, forcing her gaze away as she began tending to Rio’s injuries again. The silence between them stretched long, heavy with words left unspoken.

Finally, Rio broke it.

“I never wanted to take him, Agatha,” Rio whispered. “Nicky. I didn’t have a choice.”

Agatha froze, the name hitting her like a punch to the gut. Her hands trembled.

“I know,” she said quietly.

Rio watched her carefully, guilt swimming in her eyes. “I loved him, too.”

Agatha’s shoulders slumped, the weight of it all pressing down on her like a stone.

“I know,” she said again, this time so soft it was almost inaudible.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Agatha finished tending to Rio’s wounds with gentle hands. When she finally looked at Rio again, her expression was unreadable.

“I guess,” Agatha said meakly, taking Rio’s hands in her own, “sometimes boys die.”

Rio’s lips curved into a faint, sad smile. “I gave you as much time as I could.” Rio squeezed Agatha’s hand weakly and gestured to herself. “But interfering disrupts the balance, Agatha. It cannot go unpunished.”

Her voice was soft, but the weight of her words cut through the stillness like a knife. Agatha’s gaze drifted over Rio’s broken body—the bruises, the burns, the blood that refused to stop—understanding just how much Rio had risked to give her time with Nicholas.

Agatha shifted, moving behind Rio carefully and pulling her against her chest. Rio stiffened for a moment, caught off guard, but Agatha’s arms were gentle as they wrapped around her. One hand stroked through Rio’s hair, smoothing out the tangles.

“Thank you, my love,” she whispered, the words soft but clear.

Rio let out a breath, her tension easing as her body relaxed into Agatha’s hold. Her eyes fluttered shut, a trace of peace finally crossing her face as exhaustion took her.

Agatha lingered there, her cheek resting against Rio’s hair, her touch steady and warm. For the first time in what felt like forever, the anger began to crack, making room for something else.

She held Death in her arms, watching her sleep as if she belonged there.

And maybe, in some twisted way, she did.

-----

I refuse to be a child of divorce.

maybe tonight is the night I get up to speed with aaa week

-----

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beomiracles · 6 months ago

Note

Glad to be one of the 500!!

I had a few ACTUAL dreams of taehyun but I remember only glimpses of them, so I'll write what I remember, and you can choose, tho I'm not sure they will be towards your interest, but I'll try. You can make them suggestive if you want cuz smut is a survival necessity. They are:

- I and taehyun had met at a dating (for choosing partners) vacation camp for college students and we went there with our bsfs where tyun had beom with him and we grew attached or something like that, but I don't really remember much other than a field with soccer, and a date.

- taehyun had come to me from the future to the time when we still hadn't met (only me and my sibling could see him cuz he was from the future and cuz we had strong connection) while I was on vacation with my family, to complete a mission lol or to correct a mistake, I don't know? But I only remember an open roof bus ride with my head on his shoulder and me pretending to sleep while my brother and tyun were discussing ways to complete the mission and my brother said to taehyun, "bro, stop taking continuous glances at her, and pay attention to what I'm saying." And I tried my best to not smile cuz I was 'pretending' to sleep.

The above two options were for the 'build your own dream' category.

For the 500 words category:

- soft morning fluff with waking up beside bf or husband tyun, cuz soft morning fluffs keep me alive.

You can choose either of them, thankyou so much<3!!

And sorry if these were dumb or didn't make sense at all!!

THANKYOU AND SORRY AGAIN!!

Also, CONGRATS FOR THE 500!!

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... these weren't dumb at all!! They were really cute, I'm so jealous that you get actual dreams of them, I only ever dreamt about Jungkook and even then he barely acknowledged my existence.. I picked the first one hehe! Though I changed it up a little but kept the college and football theme, I hope you'll still enjoy (੭ ･ᴗ･ )੭ sort of proofread

wc -> 1.4k

pairings football player!taehyun x afab!reader warnings making out, handjob & fingering but like at the same time, implied oral (f. rec), taehyun is kinda whiny I think, ft. bsf beomgyu

The sun was practically melting the blue plastic seats off the bleachers and you felt your thighs sticking to them in a most uncomfortable manner. Loud cheering echoed out over the field and with a hand shielding your eyes from the vile exposure of sunlight, you peer out amongst the players in the hopes of spotting your boyfriend amongst the crowd.

Before you can find him, a voice calls out for you, shifting your attention to your left as Beomgyu takes the seat next to yours. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” He exclaims as he hands you a soda which you gratefully accept, the cool liquid much needed. “You found him yet?” He asks as he, too, squints toward the players running on the grass.

“There”, you say as you point toward the very front. Taehyun was dribbling the ball between his legs as he ran toward the other team’s goal. The cheering around you only increases as he maneuvers past the opposing players before finally finding an open slot to shoot his shot. — The screams erupting were deafening yet you couldn’t help but smile as your boyfriend ran back to his teammates, all of them jumping with joy.

“Tsh, what a show-off”, Beomgyu mutters as he studies his cuticles. You scoff as you give his shoulder a push, “and you could’ve done it better?” — “Give me two weeks”, he sneers as he raises his injured arm, covered in a thick layer of bandage. “Would you really want to crush your best friend’s ego like that?” You muse as you take a sip of your soda. Beomgyu huffs as he leans back, “such trivial things hold no significance out there.”

He then turns to you with a small frown, “speaking of which, where were you earlier? I thought we were supposed to meet by the library?” Oh, right, you had completely forgotten about that. “Oh my god I’m sorry I was just going to say goodbye to Taehyun I-” Beomgyu holds up a hand as he shakes his head, “don’t. I do not wish to indulge in such gruesome details.”

Your lips part as you frown, “it was just a goodluck kiss!” Well at least it was supposed to be.

“Taehyun!” Your voice echoes off the walls as you wander down the empty hallway toward the locker rooms. There was no reply, maybe he had already left for the field? Yet the loud chatter coming from the other side of the door to the guy’s changing room told you that he must still be around. Fishing up your phone from your back pocket, your fingers search for his contact when suddenly someone grips onto your arm.

It’s with a small shriek that you’re pulled inside one of the old out of use classrooms. “Taehyun, what the fuck!” You practically yell as you give your boyfriend’s chest a hard shove. “Scream a little louder and we’ll have coach coming for us”, he mumbles as his arms wrap around your body, pulling you flush against him.

“Shouldn’t you be out there, with your coach?” You question as you raise him an eyebrow. Taehyun chuckles as he shakes his head, “he won’t notice me being missing for a couple of minutes.” — “You’re team captain”, you point out to which your boyfriend snorts. “Don’t remind me.”

Your eyes flutter as he pushes a few strands of hair from your face, “you came to wish me goodluck?” He lets his head tilt to the side as you stammer for a response, “I uh, mhm!” you finally splutter and he grins. “Just a quick kiss though”, you say as you study him with a wary expression, all too familiar with your boyfriend’s antics. “Alright, just a quick kiss”, he agreed as his hand slid down your back to take place on your hip.

You never got tired of kissing Taehyun. He was tender, gentle, your kisses taste like cotton candy, sweet and soft, quickly melting on your tongues. But those very kisses soon sparked into something far more lewd as your boyfriend backed you up against the neatest desk. — “Taehyun..” your low whisper rings out in the quiet classroom and he hums against your lips. “It was only supposed to be a quick kiss”, you whine as his hands trail beneath your loose t-shirt.

“Mhm”, he breaths against your cheek before reconnecting your lips. “We are still kissing”, he says. “Yes but-” you gasp as his fingers shamelessly slip past the cup of your bra, methodically stimulating your nipples as they harden under his touch. “So, it’s still just a quick kiss”, he assures you as his other hand trails down your chest, struggling with the button of your jeans.

You consider his words for approximately half a second before giving in. You were still kissing, so it could count as a quick kiss, no? The second Taehyun’s hand slips beneath the fabric of your panties you suddenly find that you don’t care anymore. Your hips immediately move forward as you chase his touch. Taehyun groans against your mouth as he drags his fingers between your wet folds, coating himself in your slick before pushing inside your throbbing cunt.

“F-fuck”, you croak as you bite down on his lip, pulling a soft gasp from your boyfriend. — “Touch me”, he practically whimpers. You didn’t have to be told twice, your hand quickly unzipping his pants as they pulled his underwear back to free his cock. Your fingers around his shaft cause his breath to hitch as his own fingers curl inside of you, making your thighs tremble.

You squeeze his tip, thumb pressing against his slit before letting your palm slide down the length of him. “Mhn, fuck angel”, he splutters as his hips jerk forward, the twitching of his dick only making you clench down harder around his fingers as you gasp in ecstasy.

“You’d better win out there today”, you murmur against his wet lips, tongue dwelling deep inside his hot mouth and you feel him shudder against you. “Anythin’ for you angelface”, he groans as his thumb rubs your clit feverishly. “Anything huh?” You hiccup as his fingers stretch your pretty cunt, your boyfriend nods against you.

Feeling the familiar knot building in your stomach, you draw in a sharp breath as your hand quickens its pace on his cock. “If you win today, I’ll let you fuck me raw”, the statement falling from your lips surprises you just as much as it does him. You felt him twitch within the grasp of your hand, the thought of you granting him something like that felt almost unreal and he moaned into your mouth.

“I’ll win, I’ll win”, he murmurs as he deepens your already messy kiss. “Fuck angel I’m-” he barely gets his warning out before he spills all over your hand, hips stuttering as his fingers inside of your freeze. — He’s barely come down from his high when he pulls himself from your lips, making you gasp as he falls to his knees, impatiently tugging your jeans down your thighs as he buries his head between them, determined to make you finish before his game.

Taehyun is the first to greet you after the match, his shirt drenched in sweat as he clings to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Ew, gross”, Beomgyu bitterly comments as he watches the two of you with distaste. Your boyfriend rolls his eyes as he leans back to press a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Jesus Taehyun, you smell awful”, you grin as your hand on his chest prevents him from going in for seconds.

“You wound me”, he drawls as he tugs you closer despite your greatest efforts. — Swinging his bag over his shoulder, Beomgyu’s gaze suspiciously flickers between you and Taehyun. “You guys are coming to the celebration party tonight, right?”

Your lips part in an unspoken reply but your boyfriend beats you to the matter. “No can do”, he shrugs as his hand squeezes your waist. Beomgyu frowns as his eyes flit toward you, only to be met by an equally unenthusiastic shrug. “She owes me a kiss”, Taehyun then adds and you shoot him a glare.

“Actually she owes me a lot of kisses.”

taglist ✎... @theresawtf @jjklvr9 @binniebakery @beomies-world @hyukaaa @ninoshome1 @gardnhee @babymochibeargyu @lunathewritingcat @duckywuckypookiepie @naoristerling @oddracha @soohashits @junimoa03 @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @beomtasticc @369girlswannadrinkwine @gudboibeomgyu @flowzel @sthwaberry @lit1esec @hwanghyunjinismybae

(if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

#beomiracles ₊˚⊹ ᰔ #serene's 500 bash !#taehyun fanfic #taehyun x reader #taehyun smut #taehyun x you #Kang Taehyun x you #Kang Taehyun x reader #Kang Taehyun smut #Taehyun imagines #Kang Taehyun imagines #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt smut

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baddestbittyontheblock · 1 year ago

Text

alexia putellas fic recs (4)

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ jealously or caring? by @magics-neptunes-things alexia putellas x reader | jealousy, discomfort with her feelings, a little angst.

-this one talk about jalousy and everything who can come out of it, whether it’s little cute reconciliations or a little more complicated repercussions.

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ i remember everything by @samkerrworshipper alexia putellas x reader | eating disorders, pain n angst with a softer ending

-maps and ingrid start start to notice reader getting thinner and eating less but alexia is so wrapped up in media and stuff that she doesn’t notice until reader faints at training. then mapi shouts at alexia and there’s some angst but it has a softer ending

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ alexia fic by @eimids alexia putellas x girlfriend!reader

-the reader is a billionaire but the team mistakenly thought that the reader is using alexia for money or fame because of how the reader dress just like simple clothes and the team tell the reader to leave ale alone

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ pet problems II by @woso-dreamzzz alexia putellas x reader

-your cat gets pregnant (It's all mapi's fault)

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ pet problems III by ^ alexia putellas x reader

-meeting the kittens is very stressful

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ pet problems IV by ^ alexia putellas x reader

-the first two kittens go off to a new home

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ pet problems V by ^ alexia putellas x reader

-it's adoption day for the last of the kittens

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ insistent by @leahluvr alexia putellas x reader | smut(nsfw, fingering)

-you get a national team call up but at what cost?

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ driving seat by @vixwritesagain alexia putellas x reader | top alexia, dom alexia, rough fingering, semi-public sex, dirty talk (let's just pretend she speaks perfect english, yeah?) affectionate degradation (slut and slut adjacent words), orgasm control/denial, choking

-alexia only has three moods after a game: hyper, tired, or horny. I'll let you guess which one happens here.

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ ubi amor, ibi dolor by @randombush3 alexia putellas x reader

-alexia and you as posh + becks part two. part one

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ ready, aim, shoot by @magics-neptunes-things alexia putellas x reader | angst, mention of war and bomb, accident, hospitalization.

-you’re a journalist and you were sent to a complicated place in the world. will the attack you suffered prevent you from finding your girlfriend’s arms permanently?

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ rebuilding the family aka family visits by @me-loving-woso alexia putellas x reader

-these are the previous Chapters: Monthly visits, Meeting the Family, The Aftermath

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ like mama by @mannersofrats24 alexia putellas x reader | a bit of angst, a bit of comfort

-there's no better feeling than holding your daughter's hand while watching your wife's football match, until your daughter runs off into a crowd.

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ morning motivation by @fcwoso alexia putellas x reader | fluffy

-alexia needed motivation to conquer the day, reader makes a poor attempt and somehow succeed

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part seven by @thesunisatangerine alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader | mentions of death/dying

-parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part eight by ^

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

⊹ ࣪˖⁩. betrayed by @repulsiveliquidation alexia putellas x reader | smut(degrading name calling, edging, spitting, choking)

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ off limits – part 5 by @wileys-russo alexia putellas x león!reader

-part one part two part three part four

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ off limits – part 6 by ^ alexia putellas x león!reader

-"ale where are we going?" you laughed, leaning back into your seat more as your girlfriend sped down the highway. "stop asking me princesa, it is a surprise!" was all you got in return alongside a toothy grin as barcelona raced past her window in a blur.

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ make it better by @girlgenius1111 alexia putellas x reader | angst / hurt comfort. smut. 18+

-a cure for frustration: part 2

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ the leather jacket by @alexiapp alexia putellas x reader | suggestive topic, talk of injury

-today marked the start of el clásico, i woke up to a tanned tattooed covered back of a blonde Catalan woman.

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ the party by @samkerrworshipper alexia putellas x reader | smut(cunnilingus, minors dni 18+)

-with your louis v. bag, tats on your arms. high heel shoes, make you six feet tall. everybody wants you, you can have them all

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part nine by @thesunisatangerine alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader | mentions of grief, suggestive material, hurt/comfort

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ in the middle by @codiemarin alexia putellas x leah williamson x reader | BDSM undertones, edging, fingering, dirty talk, semi-voyeurism, threesome where one person is watching the other two

-loosely based on the song In the middle by dodie. alexia and leah had a very short lived tryst in the past, but both being headstrong and controlling captains, nothing came out of that. y/n has dated both alexia and leah separately, but the three being in close proximity most times and the captains unable to deny y/n, agreed to try dating collectively and getting along for her sake.

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ friendly affection? by @inuyashaluver alexia putellas x reader | mutual pining, just idiots in love, spanish is in bold italics

-in which your childhood friend is extremely affectionate with you, you can’t help but wonder, is it friendly, or does it have a double meaning?

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ family dinner by @fcwoso alexia putellas x reader

-alexia's wish to stay home wasn't fulfilled but she couldn't do anything about the cuddly mood she was in, this lead to the perfect opportunity for her sister to tease her about it

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ motherhood – 2 by @magics-neptunes-things alexia putellas x reader

-second part of motherhood

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ twice the pleasure by @repulsiveliquidation alexia putellas x maría león x reader | smut, 3.6k

⊹ ࣪˖⁩ do you need me? by @girlgenius1111 alexia putellas x reader | migraine, vomiting, general sickfic things

#woso #woso smut #woso imagine #woso fic #barca femeni #fc barcelona x reader #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas fic #espwnt #espwnt x reader

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sssilverstoned · 1 year ago

Text

sympathy for the devil ꩜ cl16

type: fluff? besties to lovers? let's say that. a friend is done dirty but is she really a friend? debatable. flashbacks, angst-ish (a guilty conscience is always a great outfit addition, no?)

word count: 4.6k

warnings: language, suggestive but no smut (finger sucking. i was in a mood,) charles is a reformed cheater, so let's say some moral ambiguity all around

lily said: hello hello! welcome to the inner workings of my hyper fixation on summer romances and a couple of bestieeeees who should just be a couple. now that this guy is out the way, i'd love to formally open requests! a drabble, fic, oneshot, hit my line ! we can get into the details of who i do and don't write for later <3

You are not a terrible person. You're not even a bad person, truly. It's something you repeat to yourself like a mantra as you look away from Charles's side profile across the long table.

He's looking like summertime, soft like an afternoon nap, but sharp like a stinging on your skin from too many 5 more minutes called from the patio. His neck is elongated slightly, trying to hear Joris's story over Mirabel's loud laughter. When he leans like that, you can see a peak of the remnants of the hickey you sucked into his pale skin the evening before. Your stomach hurts.

Charles's own nose is red, he's scrunching it on occasion like no one will notice his discomfort, and his necessity for aloe vera. You've packed it in your bag because you know he wouldn't have. He knows to ask you for it later.

You excuse yourself from the long table, your dinner in front of you looking great, but you were nowhere near hungry. When you push your chair back to stand, it makes a low noise against the floor of the garden, and his head whips to you immediately.

It was your friend group's traditional holiday you were gathered for, an annual week at Mirabel's family home right on the water. 4 girls and 5 boys, room assignments remaining relatively static throughout the years. There was that one year Clara and Sammy shared a room, but, as both of them would easily say, it wouldn't be happening again.

"Everything okay, y/n/n?" Peter asks from your diagonal, which makes more heads turn to your now standing figure. You let out an uncomfortable huff, disguised as a laugh. Charles can read you like his favorite book.

Your linen dress clings to your body, yet flows off you effortlessly. He remembers seeing it on a hook in your room, wondering how it would look on your figure when he pretended to not watch you change tops. Reality was always better than fantasy, this he knew for certain.

"I'm alright, just chilly. Want to grab my sweater."

"I'll go with you, want to charge my phone anyway," Emma smiles up at you from her seat, standing up as well.

Charles follows your figure with your eyes until you disappear into Mirabel's villa, then continues to pretend to be listening to whatever Peter has begun rambling about.

"Did you see the way he and Oliver left the pantry in disarray this morning?" Emma's practically hissing her disdain, her shorter legs pumping overtime to catch your gait. You were hoping she couldn't.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Charles," she gags. "Tried to cook breakfast, and of course it was shit. Can't believe you didn't know."

You did, you helped him clean it up.

"I feel like it's quite hard to burn oatmeal," you snort, scrubbing the pot.

"Too much sugar in the pot, I suppose. That's how you make yours, yes? With brown sugar?"

You look back at him from where he was leaning against the counter, watching you help him fix his mess. Oliver had cleaned up the spilled flour on the floor of the pantry, then ran out to get pastries from a bakery before the rest of the villa woke up and threatened his life.

"Surprised you remember how I like my breakfast," you say.

"Why?" he asks, cocking his head. "I know a lot about you."

You click your tongue, suddenly shy under his intentional gaze. Your focus is back on the pot, and a stubborn clump of congealed oats. Charles peers around the kitchen quickly, before coming up behind you, a large hand circling your waist.

"How did you sleep? I realize I didn't ever ask," He drops a kiss to the crown of your head when he finishes speaking, and your breath hitches. Not with love or affection, but with a strike of fear, almost. It was an open air kitchen, and while everyone seemed to be sleeping in, you never really could know who may be stirring about.

"Slept fine. Kept the windows open," you shared a room with Clara on these trips, you two were always the closest of the girls growing up and never minded sharing. She didn't say anything when you came in at 2 am with mussed hair and swollen lips, and you were grateful for it.

"You could have stayed, Joris didn't come in until late."

You finally bristle, dropping the pot onto the drying rack. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that."

You turn in his grasp, eyebrows frayed in the middle of your face. He hates when you look at him like this. "Y/n, we're not children anymore. We're two consenting adults."

"Emma will hate me."

"And is that worth your happiness? Whether or not your friend, who you aren't that close to, by the way, is mad at you?"

"You cheated on her, Charles."

You clear your throat as you blink away the memory. Emma scoffs again at the thought of Charles. "He even had the gall to come out on the patio at the same time as me this afternoon."

"Everyone was on the patio, Emma," you level, already getting irritated with her tone. She irritated you often, Charles wasn't necessarily wrong about your lack of proximity to her. She was always a bit bratty, but had too much history with the group to be left behind, no matter how much she seemed to irk everyone. "You can't expect him to walk on eggshells around you, he's still a part of the group."

Emma stops walking, but you keep pace. "Are you defending a cheater, y/n?" You're glad you didn't stop.

Your eye twitches, and you're glad that she can't see it. This conversation was draining you, yet it's barely started, and already, it's over. She did this nearly every time they were in the same vicinity, and it was getting old. Or maybe, it was the guilt that you were fucking her ex-boyfriend.

It was a mistake that they dated in the first place. He had just broken up with his long term girlfirend, someone you all never seemed to get along with, and Emma's eyes were always slightly googly for the boy. Her attention was more palpable, and better received, than the rest. So they began to fool around, began to hold hands a bit more at group dinners. You heard her say 'boyfriend' much more than he did, though.

The cheating was a bit egregious, even for Charles. For the sake of everyone's friendships, his romance with her was kept under wraps, the superiority of a professional PR team apparent over gossip columns and nosy fans. It was the nosy fans, unfortunately, that had found Charles in a club somewhere in Italy with his tongue down some model's throat.

She cried, shouted, did everything but rip her own hair out at the photos that surfaced. Perhaps it hurt her most that people were excited to see Charles with the woman, finally seen with someone that wasn't an engineer or Vasseur. They didn't know about her, and frankly, they never would. She was never terribly important to Charles, everyone knew that, and now she did too.

The group had moved on, sans Emma. No one really made fusses about it in the first place, their relationship running its course over only about 3 months. The boys saw it coming and, well, the girls had warned her. A rebound was always obvious to those watching.

The worst part, the part that made you feel so ill all the time, is Charles wanted to be yours, and you wanted to be anywhere but the villa.

You grab your sweater off of the chair at the vanity mirror in your room, bristling at the chill coming from the open window you had left during the night, and now day. You hear the laughter of your friends, of Peter shouting over Oliver, and Charles laughing from his belly. You hate that you can tell his laughter from the rest.

When you sit back down at the table, Clara waits for you to scoot your chair back in and place the napkin in your lap. "You lost her inside, eh?"

You crack a smile, Clara was your most blunt, and funniest, friend. "Had to, lest I hear about Charles's trespasses again."

Clara chuckles into her wine glass. "If only she knew."

In a lowered voice, you turn closer to her. "I think she may actually lose her mind if she found out, Clara."

She rolls her eyes. "Find out what? That you two are obsessed with each other, yet you won't take him seriously? That she was collateral? Shit happens."

"That's not what this is."

"Please. He'd marry you tomorrow if given the opportunity, y/n. Deep down, she knows that was never her anyway."

When you look back up at Charles, he's already looking at you, looking so endearing that you have to look back down at your chicken and roasted vegetables. You're still not hungry.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

It happened quickly, but the buildup seemed to make it inevitable. You were always a friend of the leclercs, your mother's growing an affinity for each other when you were quite young. You grew up alongside the boys, Charles always having a soft spot for you in particular. Charles escorted you every time your father hosted a gala, and voluntarily was your designated driver on nights out. One in particular, 6 months ago, sealed fates.

"Charlie, just take one shot."

"If I take a shot, I won't be driving," he laughs at you, looking at you with little twinkles in his eyes. He and Emma had just finally broken up, the past 3 months couldn't be categorized as anything but odd. After they had notified the group, in their own respective ways, you had seemed to have gotten your fun loving, a tad awkward, but always down for what you were plotting, Charlie back. He had agreed in a heartbeat to meet you and Clara at the club. It makes you grin.

"That's fine, uber exists. Have fun for once, please?" You pout, tequila speaking for you. Everything was already a bit hazy, much funnier than normal, and less serious.

"Yeah, come on Chaaaarlie," Clara giggles knowingly. He'd do anything if you asked for it, this was a fact.

With a shake of his head and faked disdain, he downs the shot, hears your cheers, and suddenly, one shot is seven and you're both screaming the lyrics to an old Fergie song that blasts through the speakers.

Heels were a bad, but stunning, idea. You felt cute and confident, but by the time you had stopped dancing like a mad person to get a drink of water, the balls of your feet began to throb.

"Please don't take your shoes off in this place," Charles begs.

"Don't be my father," you frown. "My feet hurt."

"Your feelings will be what's hurting when someone steals these off the section couch," he points to your feet, and there was a touch of validity. They were Jimmy Choos, after all, and cost more than you could comprehend. Charles often went overboard on your birthday gifts.

"I'll take that risk."

"I'll hold them."

"You won't," you say with a laugh, used to his dramatics. But he shocks you, gingerly picking them off the couch and holding them on his index and middle finger.

"Charlie, put my shoes down."

"I will do no such thing."

Somehow, somewhere between promising Clara you'd text her when the uber dropped you and Charles off at his place, helping him get the key into the lock of his door, and sitting on his kitchen island, Charles finds himself in between your legs, staring into your eyes that had glitter and mascara surrounding them.

It wasn't normal of "best friends" to be around each other like this. He knew that. He hadn't wanted to be just your best friend in a while though, but having you in that capacity was better than nothing at all. Especially when he had seemingly bounced from one girlfriend to the other, and deep down, he knew it was because he was bored. They weren't you, no matter how much imitation was attempted. Perhaps the only person who was aloof to his truest desires, was you.

"You looked very pretty tonight, y/n/n."

"You looked dashing yourself," you wink, "the girls in there told you that though, no?"

He rolls his eyes. "That wasn't anything. Just fans, same shit as usual."

"You usually are being hit on by pretty girls, is what you're saying?" You continue to tease. Charles can't stand your smart mouth sometimes, especially how much he can't help but love it.

"To be fair, I don't really notice. I'm always looking at you, anyway."

You don't have a response for that. He's never said it outright, never crossing the line. But now he has, and there's no going back.

"Charles, you just broke up with Emma."

"I know,"

"You cheated on her."

"I know,"

"I'm your best friend."

His turn to grin. "I know."

In a fashion completely unlike you, throwing caution to the wind felt like the only option, pulling him in with your legs, locking around the back of his waist, lips pressed onto his, hair between your fingers. He tastes like tequila and mint gum, like the things you regret yet adore. He wonders if this means the same to you as it means to him.

When you wake up in his bed, makeup removed and your favorite shirt of his draped over your body, you inhale deeply when you feel the familiar soreness stretching through your lower half, and the weight of his arm roped around your body. Now that you've gotten your taste, you weren't giving it up.

"Did you pack the aloe vera?" You hear him from your doorway, blinking back from yet another memory.

"'S in the bathroom, look in the blue toiletry bag," you call, not looking away from where you were taking your hooped earrings out in the mirror. It was a domestic encounter in a way, like a scene taken out of context 20 years from now. Maybe one day, you'd be on holiday with a family of your own, enjoying silence once your kids were asleep after playing in the water all day. Maybe you'd be actually sharing a room, instead of whatever the fuck this was.

"You seemed off at dinner, everything okay?" Charles asks, rubbing the gel on his soon-to-be-peeling nose.

"Fine," you shrug, turning back to look at him, and not just his reflection. "Just wasn't so hungry. And cold, like I said."

He chuckles a little to himself. "I could tell," he nods with his head down to your chest. Your nipples had pearled, and supposedly, had been pearled, and were obvious through the thin fabric of your fitting dress.

"Jesus Charles," you berate, turning back to your mirror. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm a man," he corrects. "Who's seen what's under that dress and thinks it's a great sight. But I also like your mind and your personality and all that, of course." Idiot. He sits on your bed, making himself comfortable against the headboard as he watches you get ready for bed. Domesticity. "Will you be going back to Monaco after this?"

"No, visiting Clara's family in the states for a little."

He makes a discontent noise. "How long?"

"A week," you answer. "Miami."

"Fun, going to go out?"

"What is it to you?" You ask, half jokingly, half alerted by his series of questions.

He shrugs this time. "Care about you, want to know what your plans are. Is it a crime?"

"No, just makes me fear you're in love with me."

"I'm on my way to that, I tell you that all the time. And you make jokes because you know it's true."

You stand up from the vanity, looking at him with an expression that makes his heart hurt. It's that wounded puppy look, the way you used to look at Arthur when Charles would tell him to fuck off from trying to hang out with the two of you as teenagers.

"I don't really know what to say when you say those things." He stands up from your bed, meeting you where you stand in the middle of you and Clara's room. He still smells just like all your favorite aspects of summer, and that tired look in his eyes from a day of relaxation and release melts you. "I know I'm in my head."

"'S a good head to be in." He moves the strans of your hair that were falling over your forehead behind your ear, smoothing his fingers over your jawline until his fingers lift your chin. "That's better. Couldn't see your face."

"What is this, Charlie?" Your eyes search his, and he hates how scared you look. "Like, seriously. We, we fuck, we sleep in the same bed more than we don't."

"We always have done that, you've shared with Enzo and Arthur before too I'm sure."

"Don't be dense."

"I think that's just how I am, mon amour."

"Such a shithead," you mutter with a huff, annoyed with his smug expression. "I'm being serious. If sex is just what you want, or need, right now, I don't think I can do this anymore."

"It's much more than that to me, don't insult me," He no longer has a grin on his face, mouth turned much more stoic. "My actions precede me, yes," you withold commentary on that, "but I'd never do anything to hurt you, y/n/n. I care about you, think about you all the time, want you wherever I am, always."

A part of you thinks this is what you've always wanted to hear. A gorgeous, successful, personable man who you've grown to trust infallibly your whole life is 5 feet short of professing his love for you, and yet, you can't let yourself fully be happy. Because for the last 6 months, you've ducked and dodged your own friends, not wanting them to know about the two of you. He did cheat, for crying out loud. On someone you have baby photos with. No matter how annoying, or selfish, she comes off, Emma wasn't going anywhere in your life. And you'd be devastated if she did this to you, so he remained your dirty little secret.

"Am I interrupting?" Clara says teasingly from the doorway, a wine glass still in her hands. "Sorry, Mirabel wanted me to check on you."

You clear your throat and step away from Charles. "Not at all. Charlie's got a sun burn."

"Ah. You are pale," Clara notes. "Figures."

"Thanks, Clar."

"Still drinking?" You nod toward her glass. "Pour me one, will you?"

"Sure will." She turns, and you make to follow.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, I think."

"Y/n,"

"Not right now," you say firmly, "please?"

And you've got that withered look, that look that screams exhaustion. Guilt's gonna kill him one day, he's sure.

"Fine."

And with that, you head out the door, leaving Charles in your room, regretting not telling you how he felt about you when his girlfriend told him to. Before Emma took that mantle instead, and before you started looking at him like it was hard to do so.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

Sammy brings it up first, but the entirety of the day was the beginning of the end of secrecy.

The next day had been decided as a boat day, everyone prepared for another long day in the sun, this time on the open waves. The girls had all gone below deck, in search of champagne and a bottle opener, and Sammy and Charles were far enough from Oliver, Joris, and Peter for them to hear a conversation.

"I've got a question I think," Sammy asks. He makes an affirmative noise, head leaned back against the cushions of the lounger, sunglasses sliding down his still peeling nose. "Are you and y/n hooking up?"

Charles immeditely looks up at Sammy, mouth open in a scramble for the most believable way to say no. "No, ah, why would you say that?" oh dear.

"Mate," Sammy winces.

"Fuck me," Charles yanks the glasses off and wipes both hands over his face. He keeps them there when he asks, "how?"

"Leaving hickeys is one thing, her jewelry on your bedside table is another." The central heating unit for their floor was in Joris and Charles's room, Sammy did go to adjust it yesterday morning. Fuck. "Does Emma know?"

"No," Charles says quickly. "No. Y/n doesn't want anyone to."

Sammy quirks his mouth to the side. "Well, are you dating?"

"No,"

"Ah." Sammy looks out on the water, stewing over this confirmed theory of his. You all suddenly appear from inside, cheering with a bottle clutched in Emma's hand, you with the opener. When he looks back at Charles, he sees that even though all four of you stand there he's looking at you. This must be sympathy for the devil, Sammy thinks, because why else is he feeling bad for someone whose problem was multiple attractive women had feelings for him?

"Charlie, can you help?" you pout, unable to get the cork loose from the bottle. It was obvious you were tipsy, drunk even, you all had been drinking since the sun came up.

"Fucks sake y/n, use your arm!" Clara groans. Sammy looks back at Charles, willing him with his brain to not be at your beck and call for once.

"I've got it," Charles chuckles, like an idiot, if you ask Sammy. He pops it, a cheer coming from the group at the appearance of bubbles and spray. It gets all over his hands as he attempts to hold the bottle away from his body, and he shakes the excess off as the cheers continue. Oliver whisks the bottle away to be divied up between everyone's cups, and Charles goes inside to wash his hands off. You slink off behind him, unbeknownst to him, or the rest of your friends, except for Emma, whose interest is piqued by your sudden absences.

"Thanks for the help," your voice is sweet in the silence of the kitchenette.

His head whips to your figure, slightly startled by your presence. You're barefoot, a brown bikini only covering what's absolutely necessary to be covered. He can't tell if he loves it or he hates it. Your open button up shirt tossed on as a cover up intrigues him, because, is that his?

"Is that my shirt?" Charles repeats, out loud this time, eyes trained like heat seekers as you move close. His hands lay in the towel, champagne still dripping off his fingers. You've seemed to have distracted his process.

"No, but it seems like you would love it if it was."

He raises his shoulders. "You're welcome to them."

You hum, "good to know." You're looking at him like prey, it makes his throat dry and he's not sure what to say. You're always the bubbly one, the sunshine when he's being grumpy and difficult.

Charles lifts his hands from the towel that he still hasn't utilized yet, pushing his luck by placing a hand on your hip. He plays with the string on your right hip, fingers begging to untie the bow. "You only like talking to me when we're in kitchens, huh?"

He makes you laugh with that, or maybe it's the alchohol making you do it. "I always like talking to you. It's you that can't keep hands to yourself."

A hand slides up his chest, resting casually, yet his heart races faster. That familiar, warm feeling settles in his lower stomach, and he wills himself not to harden like a teenager. "We both have a problem with hands, I see."

You tilt your head in challenge. You pull his hand off of your hip and lift it, analyzing the digits still drenched in champagne. And to his utter surprise, you take his index finger into your mouth. The eye contact you hold as you do so has his mouth dropping open slightly in a daze, mind going to static as he feels the warmth and wetness, the pucker of your lips. You hum as you release his finger with a pop, licking your lips.

"Don't think I have a problem with your hands at all, Charles."

Charles, not Charlie. He's ruined.

How you saunter away after that leaves him gobsmacked, flustered, and most of all, hoping this boat would be docking soon.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

"I have an offer for you," is how you start the conversation. You're all showered, evening attire thrown on and awaiting the metaphorical dinner bell. The two of you plus Peter were sat out on the patio, and were left alone when Peter ran in to the bathroom for a moment.

"When I come back home, we should go on date."

Charles thinks he mishears you. "What?"

"A date, Charlie. You know, when two people who share a romantic interest go out toge-"

"Enough, smartass," He stops your condescension. "You would go on one with me?"

You take a deep breath. "Yeah, I would. I like you, and all that."

"And all that," he repeats. "What every man wants to hear."

"Do you want to go on the date or not?"

"I do, I really do. Have wanted to for a while, you know."

You smile softly, resting your head on the lounger. "I know."

"Dinner's ready," Emma comes out to announce. When she sees it's only the two of you, her expression changes slightly, something only you'd notice after years of experiencing emotions from her. "Where's Peter?"

"Bathroom," you answer easily. Emma looks at the two of you intently, and Charles turns towards the water, not really interested in making conversation with the woman who's profusely stated her aversion to him.

"Hm. Well, come down soon."

When she closes the glass doors, Charles all but laughs out loud. "What a nightmare."

"Your ex," you rebut, "can't believe that to this day. If you didn't like her, why'd you do it?"

"Because I didn't think I could have you."

His veins fill with regret when he says it, he knows its not fair. But it's true, you know it as well. "Well, no more collateral damage, then." You stand up from the lounger, brushing down your dress. "Pick a good restaurant for the date."

Dinner begins well, Mirabel telling stories and Oliver denying them all. It's when the laughter dies down after Joris recounts their last trip to Nice that things begin to slant.

"Y/n/n," Emma calls from down the table. You turn to her, as everyone does.

"Yeah, Em?"

"I just have been dying to know," she starts, clasping her hands under her chin. "How long have you and Charles been fucking?"

Peter chokes on his wine. The table is utterly silent, and everyone's face carries the same shocked expression. And, wow, you've pictured this moment dozens of ways and hundreds of times, but honestly, this one was rare form. But after everything, especially today, caution was once again to the wind.

"About 6 months," you calmly answer, reaching for your glass. "Give or take."

"You bitch," she hisses. "Are you not even ashamed of yourself?"

"Are you not going to address Charles in the slightest, or is it just y/n's fault that they have sex?" Clara asks, and Mirabel and Oliver can't help the snicker in their chests. Sammy takes another piece of salmon from the middle platter.

"Yes, I could have said something," you mull.

Emma looks around, utter disbelief on her face as it seems everyone's refusing to intervene on this one. You can't blame them, and those who did know, well, their wine glasses are filled.

Emma gets up from the table with a curse of Charles's name and a disgusted look your way, and Clara clears her throat.

"So, anyone have any recommendations for clubs in Miami?"

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff

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