#No I’ve never been inside an escape room how could you tell??

[lemonwrap]

I think the 141 did an escape room exactly once and were promptly banned because Price used something that wasn’t supposed to be used as a crowbar to pry up the floor, Ghost tore every fixture off the wall to search for a clue, Gaz took out the cameras and tried to hack the keypad, and Soap made an improvised explosive all within the span of 3 minutes

[gay-dorito-dust]

okay so y/n is secretly a god of keeping an eye on this gravity falls universe and is trying to protect the kids because she's seen how they died so many times and full on just breaks down in front of Stan and ford telling them

Ngl this was kinda shit

You don’t know how much more you could take of having beer witnessed to so many timelines where the twins died far too young.

You didn’t know how much more of their suffering you were forced to watch on the sidelines while being reminded by beings of a power far greater than yours that there was to be no divine intervention. None whatsoever as it was a taboo amongst gods and was punishable by having the elder gods remove your immortality and take away any and all divine powers from you.

You didn’t care about the consequences of your own actions when you fled from your home in hopes of helping Dipper and Mabel survive one timeline, to grow older and live long happy lives unlike their alternate selves that you couldn’t save. You were sick and tired of seeing the same end result for the Pine twins timeline after timeline after timeline. This time it was going to be different, and you were going to make sure of it as you watched through the bark of trees as they ventured off on their next monster of the week, always coming back to the shack unscathed.

‘Hey great aunt/ grunkle y/n!’ They’d both greet you with wide smiles despite their messy appearances.

‘You two looked like you had some fun today. Find anything investing to share?’ You’d ask them but you already knew the answer. You had used your power to ward off the sneaky pack of Direwolves from mauling the kids and grant them a quick escape, a victory unfortunately not shared by their alternate selves, who never came back from the encounter. You still remembered the pained screams as they were deeply etched into your subconscious, keeping you awake at night.

The twins shared a look as thought debating whether or not to tell you, only to mentally agree on the later as they both looked back at you and said in unison; ‘nope! Just some scrapes and cuts, nothing interesting at all!’ Before they left to go to their room. As soon as they left the smile of your face faltered as you let out an uneven sigh, your hands covering your eyes as you softly wept into them, not understanding how cruel life must be to condemn the sweetest and bravest children you knew to countless deaths with each one being worse then the last.

You didn’t care that you’d be punished for your actions, you didn’t care that you’d be ridiculed and berated by the elder gods for being too human for a god, but you would much rather risk it all if it meant that all your effort and energy would bring forth a timeline where the twins emerged victorious; They deserved as much.

‘I can’t let it happen again.’ You whispered to yourself.

You must’ve been too occupied by the turmoil inside your own head that you didn’t hear the sound of footsteps came towards you, nor noticed that whoever was walking towards you had now sat themselves on either side of you until a hand was placed on your shoulder were you finally drawn back to reality.

‘Are you okay? Dipper and Mabel said they could hear you sobbing.’ Ford said and you saw that both he and Stan had come to check on you.

‘I can’t.’ You muttered.

‘Can’t what?’ Stan asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘I can’t watch them die again, not this time.’ You said as you wiped your eyes clean of tears. ‘I’ve watched enough of the same story come to violent and unfair endings and got told that’s just how the way things are.’

Ford and Stan shared a look, not knowing the best course of action to take in order to comfort you when you were talking in vague and ominous riddles. So Ford gently moved you so that you were looking at him directly, ‘what do you mean by that? Who’s them?’ You breathed in deeply as you mustered up the strength to tell Ford and Stan a truth you’ve been keeping to yourself in order to keep them all safe, but the Pines Family were a curious bunch and couldn’t help but be drawn to things they shouldn’t, while also having strange things be drawn to them in vice versa.

‘I haven’t been all that truthful about who I am and I only did so for a good reason, to keep you all safe.’ You said as you held onto Ford’s arms while looking between him and Stan, ‘I’m a deity who came here to Gravity Falls after bearing witness to multiple timelines where Dipper and Mabel don’t make it out alive from their encounters with the anomalies of this very town. I’ve risked everything to be here, even my own powers and immortality to keeping these kids safe in hopes of seeing the fruits of my labour be proven fruitful.’ You continued your admittance as you saw the conflicting emotions cut across their faces the more you spoke of your true origin.

‘What do you mean that dipper and Mabel die in each timeline you’ve seen?’ Stan then asked, his face set in agitation, ‘you’re a god aren’t you? Couldn’t you just have intervened and save them regardless? I thought you gods were meant to be omnipotent or whatever?’

‘That’s not how it works, is it.’ Ford said as he was slowly putting the pieces together while his thumbs caressed your shoulders reassuringly.

‘No.’ You said softly as a new wave of tears started to cascade down your cheeks. ‘The elder gods decreed long ago to forbid divine intervention of all kinds. They claim that there was nothing that can be done to change what has already been foreseen, but I couldn’t do it.’ You whimpered as you looked at Stan. ‘I just couldn’t when I knew that I could at least change one timeline, just one. Im sorry.’ You finished as Stan and Ford felt their hearts hurt for you, a god who was going against their entire way of life to keeping their grand niece and nephew safe, all the while feeling immense guilt consumed you from the inside out over the other realities.

Stan then moved so that he was just as in your line of sight as Ford was and began to wipe away some of your tears with his thumb. ‘I guess that explains all those times I’ve seen you silently stare out into the woods.’ He began jokingly as everything leading up to now started to make sense, how you’d always put yourself between the children and any potential danger or how you’d watch over them like a hawk and making sure they were in your line of sight no matter what as though afraid that something terrible would happen if they weren’t. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done for them sweetheart, but it’s time you took care of yourself just as well.’ Stan then adds as he and Ford escorted you back into the shack, much to your confusion as you looked between them.

‘I cant! I have to make sure-‘

‘The twins are fast asleep in their beds y/n. They’re safe, you have done enough for today. Now if it time for you to rest.’ Ford gently reprimanded you as you suddenly began to feel the weight of fatigue that you had been putting off for several days now.

‘Yeah don’t go worrying yourself so much, or else you’ll get grey hairs like me and point Dexter over here. Let us take over once in a while okay honey?’ Stan says as he and Ford tried to get your mind off of your mission when they both saw just how much you’ve run yourself into the ground, how reluctant you were to relinquishing control and allowing yourself to rest up from the countless days of no sleep nor sustenance. They were pretty sure you hadn’t looked at yourself in a mirror to know just how badly you looked, nor the haunted you seem to get in your eyes now and then as though you were recalling traumatic events.

‘But-‘

‘Nope.’ Stan interrupted.

‘Can’t I just-‘

‘I’m afraid we can’t let you do that. God or not, you need rest. We’ll keep the kids safe in your stead.’ Ford cuts you off this time as he and Stan managed to wrangle you into bed after a brief struggle where you realised just how badly your limbs ached snd screamed with a desire to rest or how your eyelids felt heavier then lead.

‘Promise?’ You asked them sleepily.

Stan pressed a soft kiss to your forehead while Ford squeezed your hand reassuringly. ‘We promise, you’ve done your part so please, let us do ours.’

[not-neverland06]

hi!! Given my obsession for Hugh jackman I am CRAVING for some Leopold X reader (from Kate & Leopold)! Maybe with some little angst but happy ending??

I love your blog!! Have a wonderful day 😽💐💓

Leopold Mountbatten x fem!reader a/n: I don’t know how controversial this is going to be and I don’t care. I could never finish the movie because I hated Meg Ryan in it so much. It’s so odd, I’ve loved her in everything else she’s been in but she made it such a hard watch. Maybe it’s because she reminds me of my grandma in the worst way lol, but I finished it for you anon sorry this was a little rushed Anyways, hope you enjoy lovelies Summary: Your neighbor went back in time and dragged someone back with him. He's irritatingly polite and far too interested in your way of life. What are you meant to do when you fall for a man who was never even supposed to meet you?

“Hello, madam, please I need your help!”

You’re used to crazies, it is New York after all. But they’re not usually shouting at you through your window. Especially not when you’re on the sixth floor. You look away from your coffee and glance towards the fire escape. 

There’s an oddly dressed man with red eyes waving at you through the dirty glass. You offer him a tentative wave back and he nods aggressively. “Yes, hello, I need your assistance.”

“Um,” you shake your head, “Sorry, I don’t have any drugs dude.”

“No,” he places his hands pathetically on the glass and shakes his head. “Please, I have been kidnapped.” Finally, you take a step closer to him. You can tell now that his eyes aren’t reddened from any medicinal fun, he probably got pepper sprayed. 

Your friend did it to you once when you tried to surprise her on her birthday and you’ll never forget just how awful you looked afterwards. You can see him a bit more clearly now. Whatever odd costume he’s got on, it looks good. Genuine and clean. 

Not like most of the street performers you see in Times Square. Besides, he doesn’t have that maddened look in his eye that makes you worry he’s going to come inside and kill you. Tentatively, you open the window. 

He’s leaping through in a second and you jump back with a yelp. He turns towards you and his eyes widen before he quickly turns away. “My good lady, where are your pants?”

“Uh,” you glance down at the oversized shirt you’re wearing and the tiny shorts underneath. Admittedly, it’s a little skimpy, but you’re not walking around naked. You’ve heard of committing to the bit, but this is a bit much. “On,” you tell him, walking around him and trying to stand close to the phone. 

“Ma’am-” He’s cut off as someone slams their fist on your front door. You keep a weary eye on the man while you unlock your door. 

“Hey,” Stuart smiles at you. His eyes drift slightly past your shoulder and he goes barging into your apartment. “Leopold! What did I say?”

You huff and glare at Stuart’s frantic back. “This is yours?” Stuart nods and rushes Leopold out the door. You don’t miss the pleading, while slightly scandalized, look he sends you. 

You slam the door closed behind them, shaking your head and going back to your morning paper. You doubt you’ll be seeing him around again. 

You know, it’s just your luck that your upstairs neighbor is a scientist, one who happens to dabble in the art of time travel. And it’s just your luck that he had to fall down a damn elevator shaft. 

Now, according to him, you have to care for someone from a different century so he can make it back to his time portal in, well, in time. This is fucking ridiculous. “I’m going to kill you, Stuart.”

“Look, they’re going to take my phone but he really cannot-”

It goes silent on the other end. You shout his name a few times but hear nothing in response. You assume the hospital staff has finally gotten sick of his shenanigans and has taken his phone. You slam your handset down with a huff and look towards the living room. Leopold hasn’t sat down since you walked in and it’s unsettling. 

“So,” you start and his attention snaps towards you. “1876, huh?”

He nods and you roll your eyes with a scoff. “Oh, this is insane. This is insane,” you mutter to yourself, walking towards Stuart’s door. Leopold gives you a concerned look before quickly following after you. There’s a part of you, and you hate that part, that actually believes some of this. 

Stuart is a brilliant, though flawed, scientist. You don’t doubt that he might have actually unlocked the secret to traveling back to the past, but it’s such an insane idea to try and wrap your head around. 

“Come on, we’re leaving.” You know that Stuart doesn’t want him out of the house. Tough. You’re not going to just stay inside and wait until he can supposedly go back to the past. You don’t give Leopold any time to process your answer, already out the door and heading towards the stairs. 

“You know,” he starts as he catches up to you. “You are quite rude.” Your first instinct is to snap back at him. But you take a breath and stop yourself. 

You’re desensitized, ridiculously used to just how awful New Yorkers can be to each other. And whether this man is truly from the past or not is up for debate. But he is polite and earnest, and you have no reason to be a bitch to him. 

“I’m,” the words are hard to come by but you force them out anyway, “I’m sorry.” He looks genuinely surprised by the apology and it only makes you feel worse. “This is just an insane idea to try and grasp.”

He chuckles softly, smiling as he glances down at his feet. “Yes, how do you think I feel?”

You’re sure it’s not his intention, but you only feel like more of an ass. If this is hard for you, whatever he's going through is a hundred times worse. You weren’t forcefully ripped out of your own time and shoved into another you don’t understand. He’s still trying to comprehend the television.

Though, you’re sure being a scientist has helped him in marginally understanding how all of this is possible. “How do you like the future?” It sounds awkward and stiff, but you haven’t had to talk to anyone in a really long time. 

Your interactions are pretty limited at the book shop considering no one ever comes in. They all order online nowadays and all you really have to worry about is organizing shelves. You’re embarrassingly rusty when it comes to conversing. 

And his propensity towards eloquence only makes you feel worse. “I must admit, some of your inventions have been quite fascinating. I’m especially fond of your showers.”

Your face scrunches slightly at the mention of hygiene and you nod, “I bet.” Before either of you can attempt to salvage this horrible attempt at conversation your phone starts ringing. “Hold on one second,” you tell him. You walk a few feet away from him but you can still feel his eyes boring into your back as you move away. 

“Hello?”

There’s a frantic shout of your name down the line and then the distinct jingling of keys. “I need you to cover the shop. Marcy just went into labor and I’ve got to go!” Paul doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he hangs up. 

Your jaw gapes and you stare down at your phone with shock. You know Paul and his wife had been expecting, but had it really already been nine months? Has your life become so monotonous and dull that nine months doesn’t even register for you?

It’s a depressing thought. One you’d rather not linger on. “What was that?”

You scream, though the people passing by don’t pay you any mind, and jump away from Leopold. “Jesus, where the hell did you come from?”

Leopold flinches away from you and his face is just as aghast as yours. “Good heavens, what is the matter with you? Do you respond to anything as a sensible woman might?”

“I resent that.” You tell him bitterly. Though, he does make a good point. You’ve been on edge constantly. You always seem to be more anxious than you are happy. It’s not a good state to perpetually exist in. “I need to go into work.”

You don’t want to outright say that he needs to go back to the apartment. It feels a little mean, but you’re hoping he’ll catch onto your tone of voice. 

His entire demeanor perks up and he smiles at you. “Wonderful, I am dreadfully curious as to what you do.”

You open your mouth to correct him, let him know he’s not coming. But he’s staring at you with such hopeful eyes that you cannot find it in yourself to turn him down. He seems so excited, you’re sure he won’t be when he gets to your cluttered little bookshop. You let out a weary sigh, “Fine. Okay.”

You walk towards the curb, hoping to hail a cab. But Leopold’s hand gently wraps around your elbow and tugs you in the opposite direction. Your eyes widen in response to his boldness. You thought touching a woman he wasn’t courting would cause someone like him to combust. Seems he didn’t mind breaking the rules sometimes. 

You make a mental note of that for later. You don’t know what you’re going to do with the information, but you find it intriguing. Maybe the modern world was rubbing off on him more than he’d like to admit. 

“We should take this,” he stops you in front of a horse-drawn carriage and you immediately begin to shake your head. 

“No, Leopold, these are just tourist traps-”

He doesn’t let you finish, opening the carriage’s door and gently nudging you inside. “Nonsense! This is far more enjoyable than those yellow monstrosities.”

“Taxi,” you correct. You turn towards the carriage driver and give him directions to your bookshop. “Ink and Tea on Fifth.” He nods and the carriage rolls forward with a lurch. You grip the cushioned seats and pray you don’t get motion sickness. 

“Ink and Tea?” Leopold inquires. “Are you a journalist?”

You smile and shake your head. “No, nothing so fancy. I just help take care of an old bookshop. They were supposed to extend the shop when it first opened. They were going to build a space for people to get pastries or drink tea, but it never happened and the owner was too lazy to change the name.”

It feels a little humiliating to be talking about your minimum-wage job to a renowned scientist. He’s invented or is going to, elevators. He doesn’t care about your stupid shop. But he doesn’t look particularly judgy of you. If anything he seems to be endeared to you the more you talk. 

Normally, you’re oblivious to these sorts of things. But it’s nearly impossible for him to hide. He’s not shy with his attraction, never taking his eyes off of you and hanging onto your every word. You’re not used to such outward attention. 

You look out of the carriage, pretending to take in views you’ve already seen a thousand times. “This city is incredible,” he wonders aloud. His awe is palpable. 

Your nose wrinkles and you shrug. “It’s dirty and the people are intolerable.”

“Must you always be so pessimistic?” You snap your mouth shut and feel embarrassment creeping around you. You’ve never had someone point out when you’re being negative, but he has a point. 

You used to view the city through the same rose-colored glasses. Something’s broken inside you in recent years that has just taken the joy out of life. Everything is grey to you now, until Leopold, nothing spectacular has ever really happened to you. 

The carriage comes to a stop outside the shop before you can respond to him. You want to deny what he says, but you can’t. Your attitude is almost always unnecessary. You think sometimes you might just be trying to see if everyone feels as miserable as you do or if there’s just something wrong with you. 

“Come on,” you tell him, getting out and paying the driver. He wanders towards the shop, eyeing the displays in the window curiously. 

“These are wonderful,” he tells you, pointing to the way you’d made the books look like they’re floating above the shelves. It was just some silly little thing you’d tried to get more people in the shop. It’d worked for about a month. 

“I did that,” you unlock the door to the shop and open it for him. But he doesn’t walk in immediately, instead, he lingers in the doorway. He offers you a soft smile and you can’t help but return it. 

“You’re more creative than you give yourself credit for.”

Your eyes widen as you watch him walk inside. He keeps making these oddly astute observations about you and it’s throwing you off your game. You barely know this man and you’ve always been good at keeping yourself aloof and vague. Yet, he seems to read you like you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

“Feel free to…” he’s already made himself comfortable somewhere in the back and you trail off. “Look around,” you finish lamely. His form is lost somewhere in stacks of books and cluttered shelves. 

You know most of the classics and history books are kept towards the back. You wonder if he’s reminiscing or getting a headstart before he gets back to his time. You smile at the thought and walk behind the counter, sitting on the stool and preparing to finish off the rest of the day.

Leopold is still somewhere lost to you an hour later. Occasionally you’ll hear a page flip or the clatter of a book being reshelved, but there are no other signs of life. Not until the bell above the door rings. 

“Clark,” you smile, sitting up straighter as your friend walks through the door. “What’re you doing here?”

He gives you a crooked grin and shrugs. Just over his shoulder, you can see Leopold’s head pop over a shelf, he looks between you both, eyes narrowing with disdain. “Paul told me you’d be here, figured you might want some company.”

“Actually-” you start, but another voice cuts you off. 

“Leopold Mountbatten,” he comes around the corner, hand outstretched as he comes in between you and Clark. “And who might you be?”

Your brows furrow in confusion at the interaction. Leopold seems oddly hostile and Clark looks strangely caught off guard. “Um, Clark. Nice to meet you, man.” He shakes Leopold’s hand but his grip is weak and it only lasts for one awkward half-second. 

It’s uncomfortable to watch them try and interact and it only gets worse when they turn towards you. Clearly, they want you to tell them who the hell the other guy is. But you feel like that might just make the situation worse. 

Besides, you were pretty content with it just being you and Leopold, you don’t need Clark coming in here and riling things up. “You know, Clark, I’m set here. You can just go home.” Your tone leaves no room for argument but you know he wants to. 

“Alright, I’ll just call you later, I guess.” He throws one last skeptical look at Leopold before finally slinking back out of the shop. 

“Neither of you should be alone without a chaperone present.” Leopold bluntly scolds you without even waiting a second before Clark is gone. It catches you off guard and you scoff. 

You motion between the two of you, “We don’t have a chaperone.” 

Leopold shrugs, “Yes, well, I’m not courting you.” It shouldn’t, because he’s right, but that stings. He is attractive, surprisingly so. You have this odd belief that anyone from his century had to be at least a little ugly. But he’s near perfect. 

Hearing him tell you so bluntly that you’re not courting hurts a little. Though, you can’t blame him. You must be dramatically different than the women he’s used to. From your manners to how you dress, you’re practically an alien. 

You stand up from behind the counter and walk towards the cart of books that need to be shelved. “Clark is a friend. Nothing more.” You’ve never once been romantically interested in your friend. He’s attractive, but he’s not really your type.

Apparently, British men from the nineteenth century are. Which does not bode well for your romantic prospects once Leopold is back home. “It is plain for anyone to see how he wants you. Don’t let yourself be blinded by naivete.”

“Naivete?” you scoff and turn around to glare at him. “Don’t pretend to know anything about me, alright? I’m not some maiden in a frilly dress who needs a chaperone.” You can see that your words affect him. He looks a little taken aback by your anger and so are you. 

It’s misplaced. You’re not mad at him, just mad that you even like him. “Just go read or something, Leopold.” You dismiss him more rudely than necessary and hide yourself behind a few shelves. The rest of your workday is spent in a tense silence that makes your stomach churn. 

You’re nearly ready for bed when something slips under your door with a slight whoosh. You turn towards it, frowning when you see a little envelope with a wax seal on the ground. You pick it up and let your finger slip under the paper, opening it to find a letter with your name on it inside. 

The handwriting is impeccable, with a gracefulness to it that you’ve never seen before. You don’t have to read for very long to know who it's from. Leopold writes poetry about the color of your eyes and the way your lips curl when you smile. And then he ends it with a vague, nearly ominous, invitation to dinner. 

You can’t help but smile to yourself, changing out of your pajamas and slipping into something a little nicer. A few minutes later you’re climbing out your window and taking the stairs up the fire escape to the roof. 

You don’t believe your ears at first, thinking the music must be coming from another apartment. But when you make it up to the roof there’s a violin player there waiting for you. He smiles happily at you as you approach. 

You spin in a slow circle, taking in the sheer amount of flowers littered around the roof. You don’t know how he managed to afford all of this. He transformed the barren and empty rooftop into your own little paradise. Candles lit and a live musician playing for you. 

You’ve never had anyone do something like this for you, ever. It’s a little hard to accept that someone would be willing to put this much effort in for you. “I wasn’t entirely sure you would come.”

You turn around and Leopold is waiting behind you, that familiar smile playing on his lips. You aren’t aware of the grin forming on your face in response. You don’t have much control over that when you’re with him. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He looks like he wants to respond but at the last moment thinks better of it. He instead pulls your chair out for you, helping you into your seat. “This is nice,” that feels too underwhelming a word for such an incredible gesture. 

You sigh and frown as you try and find the right words. You don’t notice him sitting down across from you. You only look up when you feel him placing his hand on your own. “It’s alright,” he assures you. 

It’s still so odd how he can know you so well after such little time. “This is incredible,” you tell him, undeterred by his attempts to soothe you. “No one’s ever done something like this for me.”

He looks like he takes personal offense to that and it makes you laugh. “You deserve far more than this. Sadly, it seems Stuart’s pockets do have limits and I’m afraid I would have put him into debt if I’d gone any further.”

You have the perfect mental image of Stuart coming back from the hospital only to find his science project has robbed him. It makes you laugh and you squeeze his hand once before drawing it back into your lap. He lets his touch linger on you for a long moment, seemingly reluctant to pull away. 

“No,” you tell him, “this is perfect.” 

You fall into a comfortable silence for a little while. Conversation mostly drifting toward what his life was like as a duke. You don’t have much to say about your own life. It’s been incredibly normal and you’re a little sad to find that you don’t have one good thing to share with him. 

Nothing comes to the front of your mind. 

Inevitably, you drift into the topic you’d both been so adamantly avoiding. “Has Stuart said when you’d need to return?”

Leopold’s grip on the fork tightens and for a moment he refuses to meet your eye. “Monday, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” your eyes widen and you feel something burning at the back of your throat. Monday, the same Monday that’s two days away. 

“Dance with me,” the suddenness of the demand catchers you so off guard that you forget the tears. He stands, holding out his hand to you. You almost say no, you can’t remember the last time you danced and you doubt it’s going to be pretty. 

But he whispers your name and something about his tone tells you to take the chance while you have it. You slip your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet. He doesn’t sweep you off your feet and dance the night away. 

Instead, he holds you close and you sway together. Like moving even an inch away from each other would hurt. “You could come with me,” he tells you. And you know immediately what he’s talking about. 

You also know it could never happen. Going to the nineteenth century is insane. Even considering it should be enough to have you sent to a psych ward somewhere. Especially not for a man you’ve known for less than a month. 

You try and tell him that you can’t, but he stops you. “I know, a preposterous idea. I just wanted to think about it.” You look up at him and find that you can’t take that away from him. There’s nothing wrong with imagining what it could be like with him. Even when you know it can never happen. 

You dance like that for a little while longer, swaying against each other while the violin plays in the background. He whispers your name and when you gaze up at him this time, there’s a certain look in his eye that you know is reflected in your own. 

He dips down, lips caressing yours gently before he’s pushing more firmly against your own. The world stops. Cliche, you’re aware. For the first time in years, though, you’re alive. You feel something other than the dull monotony of life. You feel excited and terrified all at once. Because you know you can never have this feeling again. 

You will never meet another man like Leopold who ignites this spark of life and passion within you. Never has a man been able to make you doubt every decision you’ve ever made with just a kiss, but here he is. 

Your arms lift like you might try and draw him in closer. His hands come up, taking yours in his gentle hold and squeezing. He pulls away from you and reality comes crashing back down. You’re not in love, you can’t be. You’ve only just met him a few days ago. 

Yet, here you are, wondering if you might actually want to leave everything behind to be with him like the great romances authors write about. He smiles at you and there’s a bittersweetness to it, a final farewell that you know will break whatever is left of your heart. 

He lifts your knuckles to his lips, pressing his lips against them like he never wants to part. “Goodnight,” he whispers your name and backs away from you. You watch him go, watch him leave, unable to muster up any words for him. 

You can’t think of anything that would ease this gnawing ache inside of you. Nothing to soothe the pain for either of you. You let him go because you know if you asked him to stay he would. And how selfish of you would it be to let history unravel simply because you fell in love? 

Monday. It is Monday. You’ve been coming to terms with that all weekend. You don't want to think about the fact that Leopold will be gone tonight. Your time together was so brief but you feel like you’re never going to get over losing him. 

Before the night was over on Sunday, a note was slipped under your door. This handwriting was messy, it made you think someone other than Leopold had written it down, but you don’t know who it could have been. 

It was a date and time, jump off the Brooklyn Bridge at this time on Monday night. Only an idiot would jump off a bridge because of an ominous note slipped under her door. But you haven’t been able to take your eyes off of it, not since you first picked it up. 

Leopold had invited you to go with him. And while you might not have said no, the insinuation was clear. Your eyes dart to your clock. If you left now, you could still make it in time. What an absolutely ridiculous thought. 

So, why are you running out the door without locking it? Why do you not care who slips into your home now? There’s this sense of finality within you that lets you know you’re never going to see that place again and that’s okay. 

You never truly felt comfortable in your life. You always thought a part of yourself was missing. Or that you were always running late for something. You think you understand what you were feeling now. 

The thing you’ve been searching for your whole life wasn’t halfway across the world, a hundred thousand miles from you. He was on the wrong side of time, or you were, at least. 

You manage to snag a taxi to get to the bridge but there’s a traffic jam. You’re forced to jump out of the car and run through the different lanes of blocked traffic. People shout at you. Your cab driver screaming after you about your fare. You don’t care, the only thing you can think about is the note crumpled in your hands and the clock counting down how long you have to jump. 

You’ll either be on the news tomorrow as an unfortunate suicide. An idiot who accidentally threw herself off the wrong side of the bridge. Or, you’ll see Leopold again. 

You reach the ledge and you can’t hesitate. If you do, you won’t jump in time. You close your eyes, holding your breath like you’re jumping into your neighbor’s pool. Air rushes around you, whipping at your hair and skin violently. 

It’s not until you hear someone shouting down at you that you realize you’re not dead. You’re lying in the middle of a dirt road, a group of people staring down at you with concern in their eyes. 

You only have to take in the clothes they’re wearing to know you’ve made it. Before they can react you’re leaping to your feet and running off. You know you’re near the Brooklyn Bridge, or where it’s supposed to be at least. You know enough about the area to remember where Leopold’s house is supposed to be. 

You’re covered in sweat and red mud. The people you pass by in the streets hide behind their hands and whisper about you. You’re not making a good impression on your future neighbors, that’s for sure. But, honestly, all you care about is making it back to him. 

You see people congregating outside his uncle’s home. You know there’s a party inside, that he’s supposed to be announcing who his wife will be. You barrel through the people outside, shoving through the crowd and running up the steps of the house. 

You can hear Leopold’s voice as you run, “The woman I’m going to take as my wife is-”

There’s a loud gasp as you come panting into the room. You can’t catch your breath long enough to speak but it doesn’t matter. The crowd is parting around you and Leopold is smiling down at you. He says your name and there’s nothing else that matters about the world around you. Not when you finally found each other. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie Kate & Leopold, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[insomniakisses]

Misdirected Anger

Character: Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen (HOTD)

Reader type: Gender neutral

Warnings/Notes: mentions of B&C, mentions of blood and minor bodily harm, reader is married to Rhaenyra as is daemon, but no relationship to daemon stated, mentions of past trauma and Viserys being an awful father. Cannon Targcest, reader involved Incest, Targaryen reader. Hurt & Comfort

You couldn’t believe it. Every time you thought about it you felt sick. When your sister and wife, Queen Rhaenyra, had given the order for Aemond’s death you promised that to her along with her council. Daemon had presented you with his plan that he would sneak someone in to kill Aemond, promising it would only be Aemond who died.

You had agreed, too easily now you thought about it, helping him sneak out and sale off to kings landing while you distracted your wife. Usually you wouldn’t trust Daemon, he was known for his temper and violence but he was your wife’s husband and your uncle you had assumed you could.

You couldn’t. The news the following council meeting made you feel sick you stared at him, his smirking smug little face as your queen denied and denied the accusation. Having known the pain of loosing one’s child she would never have given such an order. Neither would you.

They excuse themselves to talk, the council departs all but you and Rhaenys. She watches you, the watery eyes and the far away expression and she scoffs.

“You thought you could trust him?” Its a statement that leaves her lips, as she knows the answer already.

Her expression, however, softens when she notices the blood dripping from your hands. Having dug your nails in to your palms and how you look like you might pass out. She moves to stand, guiding you up and to your chambers.

On the way a pissed off Daemon storms past pushing you aside in his temper. You call after him to no avail letting out a shaky breath when a guard informs you of the Queen summoning you. With a not so reassuring squeeze to the arm Rhaenys leaves you.

You follow the guard, the feeling of nausea rising and tears freely flowing. You feel like a child again, about to be berated for your actions by the ruler of the realm made to feel small and insignificant in the eyes of the crown.

You barely step a foot inside before shes yelling, her anger towards Daemon, only fuelled by their argument, all being directed at you. You can hardly think strait your head spins and your hearing comes and goes the noise of the room drowning out to focus on your erratic heart beat before an insult is thrown your way again.

Small. You feel it, like your back in kings landing and its your father standing in front of you. Her voice being replaced in your mind with his, he never did like you. A fact everyone well knows, Rhaenyra herself had been the one you ALWAYS ran to. At least until Daemon became more important. Yet here she was the same ice look in her eyes. The same insults.

“Useless.” “Idiotic.” “Good for nothing.” “Waste of a space.” “Disappointed.” “I hate yo-“

She stops herself on the last one, mouth hanging open as she gasps, having turned round to see your state. Knees to your chest head resting on them as you dig your nails into your skin breathing heavy.

“Baby!” She tells falling to her knees in front of you, but your already gone, shut down and deep into your own head.

Whimpers and babbles of apologies escaping you as you rock yourself, having learnt to sooth yourself from a young age, it breaks her heart knowing she caused you such great pain and she feels guilt at the jumbled words that leave your mouth next.

“Dae-“ *gasp* “mo-n” *gasp* “Aemond” *whimper* “pro-omised” *gasp* “kill” *breathing speeds up*

She nods scooping you into her arms, and onto her lap, her hand rubbing your back as she sways you like you would a small child. Three kisses are placed to your head as her other hands plays with your hair. Her soft voice whispering “breathe baby” and “I’ve got you little dragon”

Your eyes close as you grasp at her dress, head nuzzling against her neck as your breathing calms. Hiccups escaping now and then as silent tears fall against her neck.

She stands carrying you to bed laying you down softly you watch with wet eyes and droopy eyelids as she undresses you to your underclothes in an attempt to cool your warm skin down, undressing herself before climbing in bed with you.

She lays behind you, humming when you turn to lay on her chest, her hands doing back to playing with your hair and rubbing your back. She kisses your head again, her signature three kisses, her hand tracing “I Love You” on your back and you let your eyes clothes as she whispers apologies and praises. Promising to never treat you like that again.

You just hope this is still the case when Daemon returns.

[bellarkeselection]

Hey could you write for Daemon targaryen like while he's being haunted in harnehal he finds his comfort in a prisoner and falls in love with her targaryen type of love and obsession and he married her like his second wife something he listens to her obeys her admires her while he fights war for rahaenya right guess she isn't happy with their marriage but have to accept as he's crucial for her but later on when they're leading she asks him her head so they both escaped with caraxes alive to anywhere you want

His Compass of Harrenhal

Tag list - @only4thefics @superintenseart @universallyrascaldreamercookie

This request will have a couple of parts to it so enjoy and if you want to be added send that below in the comments 😊

I could hear footsteps slowly coming through the castle that I was forced to be a prisoner in. Not physically but mentally inside my mind for years and years to come. Sneaking through the hallway near the kitchen I raised my sword until I jumped around the corner feeling the cold tip of a sword against my throat. “Show yourself you ghost!”

“Not before you reveal yourself first!” I heard a deep man’s voice shifting my gaze up to meet his purple eyes that could only belong to a Targaryen.

I gulped slightly nervous that I must still be having another nightmare. “What is your name, ghost?”

“I’m no ghost, strange woman. I am Daemon Targaryen. The future king of the Seven Kingdoms. Now who the hell are you!” He growled under his breath glaring his eyes deadly in my direction.

The tip of my sword was pointed up against the fabric of his tunic shirt while he had his sword end up against my throat. Both of us never lowered our weapons while we spoke to one another. “My name is Y/n, Y/n Tully. I was wed to the late lord of this castle until I started hearing and seeing things that didn’t make sense. I’ve been attempting to escape ever since he called me a witch.”

“He’s named you a prisoner then?” Daemon raised a brow at me.

Shaking my head, I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. “I’m not quite sure anymore. I haven’t been able to trust my own mind to tell me what is real and what is fake for far too many years. Why are you here, if you’re truly here.”

“Have you known any of these ghosts you see to ever have a sword pressing against your throat.” He questioned me.

I replied, beginning to lower my blade off of his chest. “I can’t say that they ever have.”

“Then we may not be alone in whatever is going on inside this dreadful castle.” He placed his sword back in his belt, walking into the kitchen and I followed him knowing it was probably a better option then going back alone to my old chamber room. I couldn’t stand the idea of being a prisoner here anymore than I already had because I feared I wouldn’t make it through another night on my own. Not without Daemon by my side.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been staring into the burning flames of one of the candles I was holding in one hand and my sword tightly clenched in the other. The rain hadn’t stopped at all during the day and I didn’t believe it was going to stop throughout the night either. Hearing footsteps coming into the chambers I scrambled to my feet I spun around aiming my blade towards the shut window until someone put their hand over my mouth causing me to go into fight or flight mode. “Get your fucking hands off of me - gah!” I screamed attempting to cut the ghost with my blade.

“Gīda ilagon. Gīda ilagon, issa klios ābrazȳrys ( Calm down. Calm down, my fish wife ).” I sucked in a breath feeling the tension in my body beginning to fade recognizing the voice that spoke in my ear.

Closing my eyes I paused lowering my sword asking him a question. “Issi ao se vala nyke call issa zaldrīzes dārys? ( Are you the man I call my dragon king? ).”

Daemon’s voice whispered in my ear, hot breath framing on the side of my neck. “Kessa, issa byka ābrazȳrys ( Yes, my little wife ).”

“Daemon!” I squealed out in such a relief flinging my arms around his neck letting my sword clank to the floor without a care in the world knowing that he wasn’t in fact another ghost attempting to haunt my mind night after night.

He wrapped his arms around my waist clinging onto me like he needed me to physically breathe. He buried his nose into my hair barely letting some tears be shed from his eyes. “Y/n.”

Unaware of how long we had been there together we had come up with our own secret code system that we made sure no one else knew except for the two of us and us alone. He was fluent in high valyrian and very few people who weren’t a part of the Targaryen family could speak it. So he would teach me every chance he could when he wasn’t trying to raise an army for his queen and former wife Rhaenyra.

“Touch me, Daemon.” I muttered under my breath barely pulling away from his embrace. Needing just a tiny bit more proof that it was truly him.

He moved his hands up to cradle the sides of my face in his own hands , crashing his lips down onto mine in a very deep kiss leaving me breathless when he broke it. “I’m here, Y/n. Your dragon husband is right in front of you.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck I drew him in for another long kiss. He threaded one of his hands into my hair drawing out a moan from me. We remained attached to one another making our way back to the bed where I collapsed onto my back with him hovering above me.

Wrapping my arms around his neck I went to kiss him but a loud knock came from the other side of the door. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.”

“I’ll go tell the asshole to leave.” Daemon got up from the bed, flinging the door opened seeing the caretaker of Harrenhal. “What the hell do you want this late hour!”

The man extended his hand holding out a letter. “A letter from Dragonstone, my king.”

“Who’s it from?” I asked him sliding down off the bed walking over to him, taking it from his hands and tearing it open. I began reading it aloud since Daemon seemed to be in no mood for any company tonight except for me. “Dear Daemon, I have been wondering how the search for men for my army is going. It’s been quite a while since I’ve heard anything from you so this is me asking for an answer. I need more men to secure my throne and my birthright. Keep your word and loyalty to your queen and wife , Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

“You’re first wife. She’s the one the late king Viserys named his rightful heir right?” I asked him sitting the letter down on the nearest table.

Daemon lowered his purple eyes to meet my gaze. “She’s actually my second wife. My first died on her horse, then her until the night I met you in this castle. I need to give her an army to help her take the throne back.”

“You’ll need the support of the Riverlords. House Tully controls how loyal they are. I can speak to Lord Grover for you.” I draped my arms over his neck and he put his hands on my hips bringing me closer to his body.

Daemon smiled widely down at me, kissing me deeply a second time not caring the lord was here. “Brilliant and beautiful I certainly won with you Lady Y/n Tully.”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[baby-yongbok]

𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚

Fem!Felix x Fem!Reader

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: Smut 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3.5k 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Your best friend is curious about a certain taste so you offer some help like a good friend would. 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Oral sex, Rule 63 - Felix is depicted as afab in this fic, 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆(𝒔): Felix is referred to as Lix & Lixie + No use of Y/n + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: Cherry by Lana Del Rey, This is what makes us girls by Lana Del Rey, Cola by Lana Del Rey

♡ Masterlist ♡

 "What do you think it tastes like?" You peer up from your laptop screen, your curious eyes take in your best friend staring down at her phone screen, her platinum blonde bangs covering her furrowed brows and her glossed bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“What?” She tilts her phone towards you, showing you the filthy video she's been watching on loop for God knows how long. 

“Gosh, Lixie, in my room? Really? Right now?” A chuckle escapes you as you watch the video replay.

“I'm sorry, I know, I was just scrolling and it popped up. You know how unpredictable Twitter can be.” You only half heard what she said, you can see why she stopped to watch this video. Whoever that lucky lady is, is getting her pussy devoured in a way that you can only dream of. 

“But seriously… what do you think?”

“Uh, I actually already know what it tastes like. Well, everyone is different but -”

“Pause.” Your brown eyes shoot up to meet her wide ones. “You've done that before?” 

You can't help the blush creeping up your neck. “Yeah I did, I mean it wasn't planned and it was just -” 

“How did I never know this?” 

“I don't know but you won't find out much more if you don't let me finish.” Lix locks her phone, throwing it to the side and sitting up on her knees so that she faces you with shining eyes. Her plaid skirt rides up her thighs a bit as she gets comfortable on your bed. It’s way too short so that doesn't surprise you. It was her idea to get matching skirts but when the one she wanted was only available a size smaller than what she needed she decided to squeeze into it so that the two of you could match. 

“Start talking.”

“Okay okay uhm, it happened at my old friend's 18th birthday sleepover. It was a classic case of girls just messing around and things going too far. I went down on my friend while everyone else was sleeping, we always had some tension between us and we were both questioning if we were into girls so we just said fuck it and went down on each other.” She stares at you, blinking a couple of times as the information sinks in. “I’ve done it other times since then but that was the very first time.”

“What… does it taste like?” Her Australian accent decorates her words as they slowly fall from her lips, she bites at the inside of her cheek as she waits for your reply.

“Uh, kinda like nothing? Some girls taste kinda bitter and some kinda taste metallic? It depends on where you are hormonally but it generally tastes like licking the back of your hand.” You giggle a bit when her eyes flicker down to her hand. She makes a fist and brings it up to her lips to slowly run her tongue over the skin. You watch her closely, taking in her reaction. She licks again, closing her eyes this time and following with a low hum. 

“Then why do guys say that it tastes sweet?” Her brows are pinched together as her eyes flutter open. “I never understood that.”

“It’s just cause it sounds good I guess? It makes us feel good.” Lix sits back against the headboard to your bed and rests her head on your shoulder. You tuck your curls behind your ear so that she can get comfortable. “Have you never tasted yourself before? You don’t kiss Hyunjin after he goes down on you?”

“I mean, yeah but I just thought it would be a bit different I guess? He always says that I’m sweet so that’s what I expected.”

“I think that they say that when they really like you, ya know? Maybe Hyune likes you a lot.” The scoff that escapes her makes you chuckle, you can already tell that she’s rolling her eyes. 

“He likes everyone, he'd never actually wanna date me and that’s fine cause I’m not interested.” She’s not wrong, Hyunjin is the flirt of your friend group. He only started sleeping with Lix after they shared a drunken kiss and Lix went down on him. Ever since then he’s been trying to sweep her off of her feet but your friend isn’t easy to impress.

“Then why do you fuck him?” You turn to look down at her and she’s already looking up at you with a coy smile. 

“He’s got a big dick.” A loud laugh ripples from her throat as you stare at her with a slack jaw and big eyes. So the rumors are true? “I’m not telling you anything else.”

“Come on, you can not basically tell me that what everyone says about Hyunjin is true and then shut the conversation down!” She kicks her feet as she sinks further down onto the bed.

“I don’t wanna talk about how big Hyunjin’s dick is, I’ll show you a picture later. I wanna talk about how I think I might be into girls.”  She pauses, waiting for my reaction. 

“Oh, you are. You always have been. Everyone knows it, you’re late to your own party.” You slide down to lay next to her, resting your head on her chest. 

“No one was gonna tell me?” She chuckles, playful pushing you off of her. “Some friend you are.” She runs her fingers through your hair mindlessly as she stares up at the ceiling pondering her thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long. I already know what my pussy tastes like. I wanna know what others taste like.”

“Are you interested in anyone? Like, any girls?” A comfortable silence blankets the both of you while she thinks, her eyes trace the blemishes on your ceiling as she picks her next words.

“I don’t know, not really.” You crane your neck to look up at her but she doesn’t look at you.

“No one at all?” You whisper like you’re trying to get her to let you in on a secret. “Do you fantasize about anyone?”

“Yeah, sometimes.” She whispers back. “I’ve imagined eating someone out…it’s always the same girl.”

“Do I know her?” Lix shakes her head and you smile, sitting up a bit to get a better look at her. Her eyes stay trained on the ceiling until you ask her. “Is it me?” Her gaze slowly drifts over to meet yours. She studies your features for just a second before shaking her head, a deep cherry blush washes over her freckled cheeks as you smile down at her.

“You’re always staring at my tits, I knew it.” You tease with a laugh, falling back down against the mattress and Lix scoffs. 

“As if.” She rolls her eyes before falling into a fit of laughter with you “You’re my best friend and you’re a total babe. How could I resist? I was doomed from the start.” She puts the back of her hand against her forehead and sighs dramatically. 

“Lixie likes me, Lixie likes me.” You sing song as you tease her, poking her side and making her laugh as she swats you away. You two giggle and thrash around a bit before you’re still again, laying on your sides facing each other. 

“I’ll get over it.” She sighs, snuggling into her arm folded under her head. “It’s not like I’m in love with you, I just think you’re hot.”

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” She shakes her head and you smile “I think about you sometimes.” Her eyes go wide at your confession and you chuckle at her.

“Swear?” You nod, moving closer to her.

“Do you wanna know what girls taste like… or what I taste like?” You’ve been best friends with Lix long enough to recognize that look in her eyes, you know the answer to your question before she even opens her mouth. “You could… taste me if you want.”

“Now is not the time to mess with me! I’m having a crisis here.” You roll your eyes and grab her by her hip.

“I’m not messing with you, I mean it. You wanna know if you like girls and I’m a girl, this is what friends are for.” She smiles at you, shaking her head a bit as she ponders your offer.

“Are you serious?” You smile back.

“So serious.” The two of you stare at each other for a minute or two, allowing your racing heartbeats to fill the quiet that’s surrounded you. Both of you know what you want to do but who’s going to make the first move?

As if you both can to the same conclusion simultaneously you both lean in to each other, gripping the others hips and capturing your lips in a chaste kiss. Lix giggles at the contact, kicking her feet a bit as excitement surges through her. She leans in again, deepening the kiss and you sigh into it. She feels just like you thought she would and she tastes even better. Soft and sweet. 

“This is insane.” She whispers against your lips before kissing you again. “I have no clue how to eat pussy.” You both fall into a fit of laughter, clutching onto the other's waist as you struggle to find words. 

“It’s not hard at all I promise!” You wrap your fingers around her wrist gently and guide her down to your core. “Feel it first, get to know it.”

“Why are you talking about your pussy like it’s a cat?” You hike your skirt up with your other hand, revealing your cotton white panties with an obvious wet spot forming on the gusset.

“Hey, it’s my kitty and it has feelings.” You rest her hand on your pubic bone, giving her control of how far she wants to go. “Be nice to her.”

Lixie’s slowly moves her fingers over your clothed pubic bone, taking in your trimmed pubes that you’ve carefully styled into a perfect triangle. She inches her way down the inside of your thigh, her palm slightly brushes over your clit and you sigh at the feeling. Her careful touches are something that you’re new to, everyone you’ve ever been with has been rough, their touches seemed rushed and eager but not Lix. 

The feeling of her fingers brushing over your vulva brings you back to the present. Her touch is feather light as she runs two fingers over your clothed folds. She trails up and stops right at your clit, pressing a bit against it. “Oh” You kick your head back, allowing your eyes to flutter shut at the feeling. That’s one thing that you’ve always loved about being with girls, they all know where the clit is.

The feeling of the mattress dipping next to you makes you open your eyes, you watch as Lix moves further down to get a better look at where you're gushing for her. Her barely glossed lips are parted slightly as she looks you over with wide eyes. Her breathing is slow and calm despite her heart beating out of her chest with excitement. The cherry blush on her cheeks has only grown deeper now that she’s face to face with your cunt. Before you can even say anything she’s leaning into you, she places a soft but long kiss over pubic bone and your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

“Is that okay?” Her voice is barely above a whisper and her eyes never meet yours.

“Yeah.” You let out a shaky exhale as you watch her kiss a bit lower this time. You spread your legs further and she quickly slots herself between them. Her lips brush over your inner thighs, peppering soft but sloppy kisses over the skin. As she got more comfortable she left sweet kisses over your labia, licking a bit at the wet spot forming to get a hint of your taste on her tongue. You tried to stop your hips from bucking up into her but you couldn’t help it, the closer she got to your clit the more eager you got. 

“Lixie.”  You moaned out her name and gasped as she started to tease your clit with her tongue. Her gaze is trained on  you as she kisses and licks over your panties, her wide eyes sparkle with faux innocence. You lazily grab at the blanket under you, small whimpers and restrained hums escape your throat despite your attempts at being quiet.

It’s the middle of a sunny day in May and your room is in the front of the house and your window is wide open. Your record player is playing some random song by Lana Del Rey and though it’s fitting for the situation you highly doubt that the soft music will drown out your moans. 

She breaks eye contact and pulls away so that she can observe your pussy through your ruined panties. She whimpers at the sight of your pussy under the cloth, cocoa and pink just like she imagined it.

“ ‘S so pretty.” She coos as she pinches the lips between her fingers. You moan at the pressure, rolling your hips a bit. She taps to fingers right where your clit sits under the wet cloth and you hiss, throwing your head back.

“Was that okay?” she asks quickly, pulling back a bit. “Hyunjin always does that, and I wanted to try it.”

You laugh and she follows. “You’re trying tricks on me that your fuck buddy does to you!?” She laughs louder, resting her forehead on your thigh.

“No! Well, yeah I am but I don’t have any other reference!” She continues her ministrations, running her fingers over your clit and halting your laughter immediately. Your whole body tenses in pleasure as you clench around nothing. Your body tingles with excitement as she kisses you over your panties once more. You could cum from just the thought of her doing that and now she’s here, with her mouth on your clit and you can’t help but want to explode right on her tongue.

 “Can we take these off?” she tugs at the hem of your panties and you offer an eager nod before lifting your hips to allow her to pull them off. Lix gasps as she pulls your panties down, her jaw hangs slack as she watches a string of arousal connect you to your soaked panties. She takes in the way that your cunt glistens in the spring sunshine and she swears that it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. “Is this a dream?” She mumbles under her breath but you hear her.

“It might be.” You prop yourself on your elbows, determined to watch her as she tastes you. She throws your panties to the side and spreads your pussy with two fingers. Her lust glazed eyes study you like you’re a work of art. She takes in every mole, every slight glimmer of your arousal and every clench of your tight hole. Her eyes meet yours for a second before she leans in closer. You stare down at her, not daring to break eye contact. She dips her tongue out and slowly licks a stripe up your leaking cunt. A loud moan escapes you when her eyes roll back at the taste of you, a whine leaving her throat when she swallows your essence. 

“Oh my god.” You say in unison, chuckling for just a second before falling back into the moment. She’s eager to taste you again, wasting no time dipping her tongue back out and licking up your folds.

The tip of her tongue teases your clit a bit and you buck up into her. She notes the reaction, leaning in to circle your clit with the tip of her tongue. Her eyes are on yours the entire time, she blinks up at you, drinking in your reactions to her amateur work. “ You look so pretty down there. Holy fuck, Lix.”

She feels more confident with your praise lingering in her head. She sucking your clit between her lips, laving over the sensitive bud and humming in satisfaction when you arch your back off of the mattress with a loud moan. Her small hands press against your inner thighs to keep them open for her as she runs her tongue up and down your folds. She flicks, licks and sucks all of the right spots, fucking you with her tongue once she’s truly comfortable.

You’re a moaning mess, your body trembles with pleasure as she works you towards your climax. Her name tumbles from your lips like a prayer and your fingers grab at the hair at the crown of her head. You’re so close but you don’t want this to end.

“Y-you’re really good at that.” She swirls her tongue over your clit, writing the alphabet with her tongue and you shudder at the dragged out moan she offers in response. You can feel your orgasm creeping up your spine, the familiar warmth starts to wash over you but she pulls away before it can take you completely. You whine in protest but before you can say anything she slides a finger inside you. You cry out, fisting the blanket under you in a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

“Oh my god, yes, like that, please, please add another.” Your breathing intensifies when she slips another finger into you, stretching you perfectly.

“I should still eat you out right?” You nod frantically, eyes shut tight as you chase your high. She dives back in immediately, lapping at your clit like an expert as she fucks your clenching hole. Your body shaking with pleasure as your orgasm washes over you, your moans and cries are so loud that you’re positive that anyone passing your house can hear your signs of pleasure but you couldn’t care less. 

“Lix-ah, Lix, Lixie, I’m cumming” She licks up your gushing arousal as you come undone, her free hand keeps you spread open for her as she laps up your juices. A chorus of moans float through the air, some belonging to you and some her. Once you start to settle down she slowly slides her fingers out of you and gives your cunt one last lick before backing away. Her chin is glistening in the sun as she smiles, her swollen lips are coated in your juices and the two fingers that were previously buried in your cunt are now between her lips as she runs her tongue over them. She rests her head on your thigh as she watches you come down from the clouds.

“This is definitely a dream, there’s no way that I made you cum that hard.” She smiles, as she wipes her chin with the back of her hand. “Did I do okay?”

“Was my screaming not enough of a give away?” You both laugh and she crawls back up to lay next to you. “Thoughts?”

“You taste…sweet.” She side eyes you with a smile and you both erupt into a much more intense fit of laughter. “You must like me.” You tease, pushing her playfully. “C’mere”

You lean up in an attempt to catch her lips with yours and she closes the gap, pressing her swollen lips against yours with a hum. “I am sweet.” She chuckles and you push her down onto your mattress.

“It’s your turn now.” 

“You don’t have to -” You cut her off with a kiss.

“I really want to.” She smiles up at you and watches as you crawl down her body. Just when you’re about to flip her skirt up her phone chimes underneath her. She ignores it and turns her attention back to you, lifting her hips to give you access to her pink strawberry print panties. You kiss her outer thigh and start moving inwards but before you can get too far her phone vibrates again. She groans in annoyance before she lifts up and grabs the device, unlocking it aggressively and checking her notifications.

“Oh.” She whispers with wide eyes as she sits up. “Oh no oh god I completely forgot.”

“What?” You ask, crawling back up to look at her screen. “Oh.” 

“I completely forgot that he was picking me up, our plans completely slipped my mind.” She starts typing quickly, trying to come up with a message that would get her out of her plans. Her phone vibrates in her hands seconds after her message is sent and somehow her wide eyes get even wider. “He’s here.”

“What?” Before you could even ask any questions there’s a knock at your window. All of your friends come through your window when it’s open. Why not? It’s in the front of your house and it’s fucking huge. You turn quickly and sure enough Hyunjin is lifting himself up and into your room. 

“Ladies.” He greets with a sigh once he’s in, he takes you both in with furrowed brows. His eyes dart from your skirt around your waist to Lixie’s messy hair then down to your friends flipped up skirt and then they finally stop at your ruined panties discarded at the end of your bed. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing.” You say in unison, not even bothering to fix your appearances. 

“Nothing?” He questions, an eyebrow raised and a sly smirk on his lips as he looks you both over again. 

“Yeah we’re just…” Lix trails off, looking at you for assistance but Hyunjin finishes before you can jump in “Tasting cherries?” He walks over to your bed, sitting at the edge and leaning back against the frame. 

“Mind if I have a taste too?”

a/n : Thanks for reading! I've never written anything like this ever so I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs, Comments and likes are appreciated and always make my day!

[saerins]

─── 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 4.7k | content: fluff (i promise), slight insecurities, comfort, 5 times he says yes and 1 time he says no

notes: ok ok so guys !! i know i’ve been posting angst recently so i offer you comfort sae !! <3 this man has my entire heart so i’m just gonna embrace it hehe may or may not have been thinking of ‘daylight’ when i wrote this .

summary: the way sae loves you is beautiful. it’s nothing like you envisioned and something you never knew you needed.

“be my girlfriend, then, idiot.”

he’s handsome, seventeen.

even more handsome when he’s on the field, being the beast you know he is. he dribbles past everyone like they’re robots, like they’re snails. he gets into the penalty area and scores, and everyone in the stand cheers.

if there’s one common knowledge in your high school, it’s that itoshi sae is one of the world’s best soccer players.

maybe it’s no wonder that you’re holding a bag full of gifts for sae for valentines, being assistant manager for your school’s soccer team. it’s astounding how heavy this bag is. but you’ll know that in the end, whatever’s inside will likely get distributed between the entire team anyway, given how sae never accepts a single one.

“is it that time of the year again?” sae sighs, squirting water from his bottle into his mouth, towel hanging around his neck as he walks out of the locker room shirtless, fresh after a shower and hair all damp, sticking to the sides of his face.

still handsome.

“would it kill you to accept at least one of them?”

you expect one of his usual retorts—maybe a yes or a one of them could be poisonous. but instead, he grabs the bag from you, still frowning. “fine then,” he says, opening the bag and peering inside before he turns his gaze back onto you, “which one’s from you?”

the one with the purple post-it attached to sae’s favourite candy bar.

“i didn’t give you any, itoshi,” you lie, keeping your calm and crossing your arms. but sae cocks a brow because he doesn’t believe you. “really!”

“yeah, you sure about that?” sae’s tone takes a surprisingly gentle turn, and you find it hard to get used to. especially when it’s coupled with an amused expression.

“really, i’d die before giving anything to a grump like you.”

sae nods his head like he doesn’t believe you and starts rifling through the contents. he takes something out—a candy bar with a purple post-it attached to it. you can’t escape from him even if you tried.

“you’re the most irritating smart handsome guy i know, i hope you make it to the big leagues, i’ll never get tired of watching you play,” sae reads out loud, monotonously because it’s his way of mocking you. his gaze shifts from the note up to you, and he has his answer by your unwillingness to meet his eyes. “slick.”

“oh, shut up,” you tell him before turning on your heels and walking off.

“you want me so bad.”

“you wish, itoshi sae.”

“hey, take the rest of these away from me,” sae calls after you, referring to the big bag of valentines’ gifts you’d just left him with.

you turn around, walking backwards. “i’m not your girlfriend, itoshi, not my job!”

sae smirks. “be my girlfriend then, idiot.”

taken off guard, you fail to watch where you’re walking and fall over a broom, knocking several of the janitor’s stuff over. sae runs over, straight-faced while he holds his hand out to you.

“damn klutz,” he remarks as he pulls you up on your feet.

you’re thankful sae’s not the kind to make jokes like how he swept you off your feet, but the close proximity is making you giddy, in a good way, and you’re not sure you want to pass up on that.

“so?”

“so what, itoshi? and let me go,” you say, trying to pull away from him. he doesn’t let go though.

“say yes, then i’ll let go,” he tells you, and you can feel his breath fanning your lips and you’re sure he’s having a field day watching you get flustered.

“sure you want me, itoshi sae?” because a part of you finds that hard to believe, with the way he rejects other girls left and right and barely feels any remorse.

but what you don’t know is how different you are to him. if he dare say, special. maybe it’s the way you’ve always seemed like the stubborn kind, the kind of girl that refuses to ask for help but secretly wants to be protected. the kind of girl who can always help herself, but kill him if he thinks you’re someone who wouldn’t mind having someone to lean on.

maybe at some point, he started to want to be that person for you. no matter how many times you scream his name for not complying to schedules, no matter how many times you flip your hair against his face. you have everyone on the soccer team on a leash, and most of all sae.

that’s the first time he tells you—yes, he wants you.

“not even if you bribe me.”

at nineteen, sae’s serious about you.

it’s no secret that he’s devoted—you can feel it. because sae isn’t the type to profess his love every day, no. he’s the kind that shows it through his actions, through the way he automatically carries your shopping for you, through the way he always takes your side in public, through the way he looks at you whenever you’re talking.

you have no doubt about it. it doesn’t even cross your mind that he might stray. yeah, you have your priorities, and he has his. you’ll go after them, and he’ll go after his—there’s no reason why you can’t chase your dreams in parallel.

your parents think otherwise, though.

like some rather typical parents do, they’re sceptical; sae can see it in their eyes. the way they furrow their brows whenever you invite him to chime in during dinner, the way they ask investigative questions—things about his past history that even you never asked him.

“mom!” you’re fed up with their interrogation tactics, shooting a warning glare at your parents.

your mom and dad look at each other in resignation before resuming to quietly eat their dinner. you’re reluctant to leave sae alone at the dinner table with your parents while you help to wash up, but sae tells you he’ll be fine. because he will.

they’re humans. they’re like you, just older and less prettier. why should sae be scared?

as expected, the moment you turn the tap on, your parents jump on him.

“you know, she really likes you,” your mom tells him. “i can’t say the same for you, though.”

sae’s never navigated around conversations with parents. he doesn’t know the first thing about this. he’s just keeping his fingers crossed he doesn’t fuck up.

“you look like someone who has a lot of girls, itoshi,” your father chimes in before sae can speak up. “you have a lot of girls on the side?”

he could not be more wrong.

“none, sir.”

why does this effort feel much more than necessary?

“why y/n?” your mother jumps in, and for the first time tonight, sae spots a genuine curiosity in her eyes.

not the best question to ask someone who doesn’t even remotely talk about their feelings. sae finds himself stumped, but your mother is, fortunately, a nice person deep down.

“just tell me this,” she leans forward, and your father seems to relax a little bit, sinking back against his chair. none of you realise the tap’s turned off. “do you love her?”

that’s… premature, if sae has any say in it. and he thinks it’s criminal that he’s telling your mother before he even tells you, but he knows that not admitting it would likely cause a rift between you and them—not something he wants.

making you miserable? no thank you.

so he nods, “yes, i do.”

“you realise that—”

“sir, let me put it this way: you can’t force me to stay away from her, not even if you bribe me.”

from the kitchen, you smile as you listen. looks like you had nothing to worry about after all.

“they’re nothing compared to you.”

you love seeing sae living his dreams; love having front-row seats to his matches, love catching the fleeting glimpses he gives after he wins.

he’s twenty-one and thriving in the soccer scene, more than ever. world-famous and revered. the two of you are stronger than ever, still, because despite how sae looks, he’s much softer than people think.

when he’s running late from practice, he texts you the moment he can, tells you what’s up. when he has to cancel on you, he makes sure he makes it up to you. if he has soccer obligations on special occasions, he’ll let you know.

it’s funny thinking back to the days when you used to squabble with each other, to the days when everyone was tired of hearing you and sae argue.

not that that should be a problem now anymore—why? simple, because non-disclosure agreements are ass. but a highly recommended thing by his publicist; to protect his image, and then he told you not to take it personally because he’s asking all of sae’s close contacts to sign it too.

which didn’t take long.

it was mostly rin and his parents, and some other guys he used to know back in high school.

oh, and there’s you. apparently, you can’t divulge anything about being in a relationship with itoshi sae. so, as far as the world is concerned, he’s a bachelor.

“it’ll sell better,” was all the explanation his publicist offered.

sae had been against it, because why should he hide you from the world? and it’s stupid. but his publicist is smart, pointing out that you might get harassed online if his loyal fans find out. (to which sae begrudgingly agreed to, for the interim.)

it was fine, up to a point, but you’d never really considered how you’d feel seeing all these headlines of sae possibly being romantically linked with all these socialites and up-and-coming movie stars.

a part of you, the prideful part, is too stuck-up to ask your boyfriend for assurance. mainly because you think it’s stupid. sae constantly texts you when he’s not with you (as much as his schedule allows), and whenever he’s done for the day he goes back home and calls you if he can.

the other part of you, the lovestruck one, is afraid that maybe you can’t measure up to everyone else. that just maybe, you’re worlds apart and you’re not good enough.

usually you’d wait for sae to tell you he’s home, you’d let him rest his mind on the way back, but this time you’re impulsive and you’re dialing his number before you know it.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, picking up after just two rings. even he knows you don’t usually initiate the calls.

“um,” you stutter because you don’t actually know how to tell him you’re calling to ask for assurance. despite having been together for four years, you realise that neither of you have actually sat down and talked about feelings.

“babe, talk to me,” sae urges you, and you can hear him getting off the bus. he must have just reached his apartment complex. he must’ve been tired from an entire day of intensive bootcamp and here you are, calling him with your trivial matters.

“it’s nothing, sae, forget it.”

“wait, what—”

you hang up before he can say anything and quickly text him.

i’m feeling a little sick tonight, just going to rest early.

sae leaves you on read and you think you’ve fended him off.

you did not.

an hour later, he’s at your door, carrying all your favorite convenience store snacks and a worried expression.

“what is it?” he asks you. you’re a little too stunned to speak. sae lets himself in, placing the snacks on your dining table before he really looks at you, surveying your face. “what were you crying about?”

you suddenly feel stupid for thinking your puffy eyes wouldn’t give you away.

sae tips your chin up when you try to look down. “y/n, tell me,” and he sounds only concerned, and the guilt builds up inside you.

so you tell him—you tell him about your intrusive thoughts as he lets you lay against his chest on the couch. you tell him about your insecurities as he sits in silence and listens. you tell him that you think it’s stupid of you to think this and you’re beginning to think you’re an ass for keeping him up so late when he has training tomorrow morning.

but sae doesn’t feel that. not one bit.

“it’s not stupid,” he tells you, and if you’d been able to see his expression, you’d know that he can never look at anyone the same way he looks at you. “all those girls you’re worried about, they’re nothing compared to you.”

“really?” you sniffle, appreciating the fact that even though he’s horrible at talking emotions, he’s trying his best for you.

sae pulls some hair away from your face and you pull back to get a good look at him. “really, stupid.” you laugh and he laughs, and now you’re really feeling stupid because there’s no way sae would ever choose anyone else over you. would never dream of having any other option.

“promise?”

sae sighs, in that lovingly way he does. “yes, i promise,” and he means it—he’s never thought of being with anyone else. “i love you, don’t i?”

you nod, chuckling because yes, yes he does. and yes, you know that more than anyone. even if it has to be kept under wraps for now; there’s no cause for concern.

when you fall asleep on his chest and sae’s too cautious to wake you up, your mother wakes up to take some water and stumbles upon the sight. she greets sae with a nod and a smile, the softest one he’s seen so far.

“my daughter has good taste.”

“that’s a secret.”

sae’s only getting more and more famous as he gets older. a year later and he’s already garnering attention from everyone, with girls lining up to be a possible mrs itoshi.

you’re still unknown; hidden in the crevices, tucked between pieces of signed contracts. you’re dealing with it, it’s fine. it’s going great, only because you’ve learned to get used to it. it was either that or to call everything off, and you don’t want that.

it’s a friday night and sae’s away for another match, this time in london, and you’re watching post-game interviews on your screen while you finish your pack of chips.

they finally get to sae, throwing the normal obligatory questions like how he feels after winning the match, how he feels like being the man of the match. until they start asking personal questions like who he’d like to dedicate his win to.

he dodges the first few easily with vague answers. but then they get even more personal.

“so, itoshi, rumours have it that you’ve been in a long-term relationship now, is that true?”

you freeze up hearing the question, noticing how sae momentarily looks to the right before he rolls his eyes and turns back to the interviewer.

“maybe,” he answers, and you’re surprised. that’s the first time he’s probably not listened to his publicist.

“now who is this lucky lady?”

sae sighs, “that’s a secret.”

his interview ends there as he retreats back into the locker room, your phone vibrating almost immediately after.

one day i’m gonna show you off to everyone.

you smile as you type your response.

sure you want the whole world to know you belong to me?

you expect a retort about how it’s the other way around, but he does one better.

fuck yes.

“you make me lose my goddamn mind.”

you’re both comfortable, twenty-three and lounging in sae’s apartment, curled up in the couch, fingers intertwined and spending a lazy sunday in.

it’s right smack in the middle of his break and you’ve got him to yourself for four entire months. it’s been good, so good.

everyday you’re reminded of why you love him, of why he’s yours. the way he pulls you back against him in the mornings when you wake up. the way he says your name when he’s sleepy, the raspiness in his voice known only to you.

“hey, i’m heading out for a while,” he tells you, slipping on his slides and unlocking the door.

that’s how it usually goes; you’re still not allowed to admit to your relationship, even if sae has hinted at being in a committed relationship. what his publicist considers as minimising risks is that both of you shouldn’t be seen out in public together. that’s why you’re having fun nights out at odd hours and being romantic in private.

sae often just leaves in the middle of the day, some alone time and maybe get some groceries since you can’t let yourself be seen leaving his apartment. it’s not an ideal situation, but you’ll take it. the last thing you want to do is make his life harder.

while he’s gone, you do the chores—make the bed, defrost some chicken breasts, vacuum, maybe wash the laundry. he’s doing his best to learn the right way to do chores (because one time when you asked him to help vacuum he ended up vacuuming the bathroom too), but you find it’s easier if you just do them instead.

usually he comes back by now, takes about a half an hour because his apartment is nestled in the centre of town, surrounded by all the stores and amenities he could need. but you stare at the clock.

it’s been an hour and a half, what’s he up to?

sae doesn’t even respond when you text him. right as you’re about to call him, worried, you hear his keys jangling and the door opening.

you expected to find him carrying a huge bag of groceries with the amount of time he was gone, but he’s empty-handed and you’re starting to think maybe he was hounded by paparazzi.

“did you have trouble with some press?” you ask innocently, mop in your hand.

sae sighs, “fuck no, thank god.” he toes off his slides and tosses his keys on the dining table, taking his cap off and tousling his hair. his pretty pretty reddish brown locks.

“oh, then where’d you go?”

sae smirks at you this time, hiding something behind his back.

“what’re you up to, itoshi?”

he rolls his eyes because you only call him that when you’re afraid. “relax, baby,” he coos, inching closer to you and revealing what he’s holding.

sae’s holding up your keychain; a mini figurine of sae you got from one of the gift shops during his match. but you spot something that wasn’t there before—a key, painted black like the door to his apartment.

“sae?”

“this key’s yours.”

you blink at him, a little stupefied. “sae, did you get lost while trying to find the key copy place?”

sae clicks his tongue, annoyed. “shut up, do you want this or not?” by the way he’s all red, he did get lost.

you take the key from him, suppressing a grin. “aw thanks, now i can let myself in.”

sae sighs again, “i’m asking you to move in, stupid.”

“y-you want me to move in here?”

“yes.”

“like, you want to see my face everytime you wake up and before you go to bed?”

“yeah.”

“you want me to live here with you, together?”

“yes and if you ask anymore i’ll take it back.” because sae’s aware that you’re asking out of disbelief—he loves his alone time yet here he is, asking you to be with him whenever he’s back home. which isn’t that hard to believe for him; you’re the only one he’d ever want to be alone together with.

you giggle, “okay okay, roomie.”

sae only sighs. “you make me lose my goddamn mind.”

“i don’t want this anymore.”

it’s your fault, it’s all your fault.

sae’s publicist is at the house, screaming at the top of his lungs, and by sae’s unamused expression, he’s not having it. he’s just controlling himself so he doesn’t end up getting a lawsuit filed against him for employee abuse.

“who thinks it’s safe to go out wearing their boyfriend’s jersey, which isn’t even for sale yet by the way,” he rants, staring straight at you, “and go down and buy a birthday cake on his birthday and take it up to his apartment, all while knowing that the press is gonna be camping outside the complex?”

he makes you feel stupid.

sae steps in front of you, his broad shoulders the only thing making you feel safe from his publicist’s constant attack. “you yell at my girl one more time and you’re done,” sae threatens, managing to get his publicist to storm out of the house.

apparently, sae had a big endorsement deal all planned with the one stipulation being that he had to appear a bachelor up until the stunt was over. and now his publicist’s mad because that’s all down the drain and his commissions are gone.

“hey, you okay?” sae asks you, gently, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

you’re fine, you’ll get over it. it’s just what his publicist said that gets in your head.

it’s like you’re trying to ruin his deals.

being with a famous pro player comes with some form of caution, you know that right?

she’s just in the fucking way!

weeks pass and it’s not easier to drown out the voices. sae’s good at it, so he’s already moved past it, resumes work as per usual, assumes you’re okay too because of the multitude of times you insisted that you are.

but really? it’s fucking difficult.

if you thought you were insecure before everyone knew about you, it’s ten times worse now. while the majority of people are nice about it, saying wonderful stuff like how the two of you are so sweet and look so good together, there’s still so many people who shit on you.

wait, i thought he was with that model from that one shoot? damn, he got the short end of the stick with his gf lol

lmaooo what a downgrade from that other soccer star he was dating

@itosae you okay, dude? you blind or something?

there’s a lot more than that. a lot. some of them even found your account, messaged you directly and said some less-than-nice things.

you keep it all from sae, though. the last thing you need to do is distract him any further, especially when he has the champions’ league coming up.

“i’m fine, mom,” you say one night when your mother calls to check up on you. “i promise.”

you’re a bad daughter, keeping these from your mother who’s just concerned. she isn’t convinced, but she hangs up anyway afterwards, telling you to rest.

it’s easy for things to spiral when you keep them all to yourself. the voices in your head that belongs to sae’s disgruntled fans growing louder, drowning out the words of affection sae tells you everyday.

until one day you think you can’t take it anymore.

they’re all telling you that you’re not good enough, that you’re just a burden. his publicist is nowhere near your side, instead silently siding with the fans who berate you. sae’s oblivious to it all, you think, because he doesn’t do anything about it.

one day you’re just sitting side by side, watching a movie, sae’s arm around your shoulders, his fingers idly twirling your hair.

“sae, we need to talk.”

like the lover he is, he pauses the movie, adjusting himself to look at you. “yeah, what is it?” he’s smiling at you because he has no idea what’s coming.

and you know, you know if you tell him what you really think that it won’t work, so you put on your best game face. truth be told, you’d been building up to this moment anyway, purposely telling him you’d be busy whenever he’s back from his games just so you won’t spend time together. it was all to give him the illusion that you just weren’t interested anymore, no matter how fucked up that sounds.

“i don’t want this anymore.”

sae furrows his brows. “what? what’s this?”

you sigh, feigning frustration. “this, sae. us. i don’t want this anymore.”

“why not?”

“because i’m tired. i’m tired of dating someone who’s half here and half not, i’m tired of tolerating your stupid habits, i’m tired of being with you, sae.” you’re raising your voice, but sae doesn’t flinch. his expression doesn’t even change. you’re beginning to think you broke him, made him malfunction.

when sae doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“i want to break up.”

sae looks away from you, at the patch of rug on the floor beside him, jaw clenched. he blinks a few times before he looks back at you.

“no.”

now it’s your turn to be confused. “w-what?”

sae tilts his head to the side, concern etched in his expression. “i said no, y/n,” he repeats, sighing. he puts his forefinger under your chin, his thumb caressing the side of your face. “who are you trying to fool?”

“i-i mean what i said, sae.”

you’re in disbelief. you hate how he knows you better than anyone else, maybe better than yourself, and you’re beginning to realise no one can come close to sae for you.

“so you don’t love me anymore? don’t wanna be my girl anymore?” he asks, but it’s redundant because he knows the answers. “i love you, okay? and i’d be a shit boyfriend if i let you go like this.”

you’re speechless, so you don’t say a thing, just sit awkwardly in front of him while for the first time in his life, he resolves to being there for you.

“look, i don’t know what mean things people are saying online, but fuck them,” he tells you.

“sae, it’s not easy,” you sniffle.

“then talk to me, and stop shutting me out, you idiot,” he chastises, and you find yourself falling onto him. “i fired my publicist too, by the way. couldn’t stand him spouting shit about you even after i told him to shut the fuck up.”

you laugh at his exasperation, your chest somehow feeling lighter.

“and, do me a favor? ignore the mean comments, yeah?” sae tells you, softer this time. “i kinda don’t ever wanna lose you, so.” he has his head resting on top of yours, your fingers intertwined and your heart soaring.

until now, you’d thought it’d be easy to drive sae away. you thought if you’d been enough of a nuisance, an eyesore, that he’d just take your word for it and run, that he’d throw a fit and let you leave.

but he doesn’t.

sae stays. and he tells you to stay. because he doesn’t know much about laundry, or how to handle feelings, but what he knows is how to love you. he knows what you need and he knows what you’re thinking, even if he doesn’t necessarily tell you about it.

and sae is a bitch to the world. he’s not the friendliest to fans nor does he care about making friends or enemies.

but to you, he’s everything. he says no to either of you straying and he says yes to whatever you ask except when it doesn’t make sense and you never knew that this was the beauty of being with someone who wants you—in every sense of the word.

there’s a certain threshold to pass before you can see everything clearly. suddenly it’s like the mean voices are faded into the background, and suddenly sae’s love is all you hear, and nothing is blurred because now all you can think about is how even if the world fails you, sae never will.

“hey, sae?”

“mhm?”

“thank you.”

he smiles against your head and you can feel it. “i love you, stupid.”

and you love him; recognising your handwriting and sweeping you off your feet. you love him; braving your parents, living his dreams. you love him; protecting you and showing up at your door. you love him; bashful yearning and unwavering emotions.

so you kiss him in response, and that’s all he needs to know that you’re with him for life.

[uglypastels]

Halo of the Highest Grade / Logan Howlett x Reader

People tried to warn you about him, but you loved the risk and danger of it all. They prayed for you, but God already knew exactly the type of men you’ve had your spare share of fun with. And the Wolverine was exactly what you had been looking for all this time.

word count: 5.5.k

warnings: SMUT. 18+ Only. MDNI. afab!reader. p in v. no protection [wrap it before you tap it, folks]. cunnilingus. sadomasochistic tendencies: spanking. choking. biting. scratching. hair pulling. face slapping. mutual degradation. makeshift restrain. violence: cage fighting. blood. alcohol. smoking. cursing. not proofread.

gif from banner sourced online but couldn't find the op, all credits to them.

Shoutout to @deceptive-daydreams for helping me come up with all of this.

Masterlist - Requests are Open

They shake their heads

Saying, "God help her" when I

Tell 'em he's my man.

But your good Lord doesn't need to

Lift a finger, I can fix him

No, really, I can.

The shouts and vulgarities of the drunken crowd could be heard from outside the building. Inside, smoke and alcohol overwhelmed the senses whilst the lights shined through the slits in the high ceiling, practically guiding you towards the silver-lit halo that was the cage at the centre of the room. As if in a trance, each element was calling for you to move closer, so closer you came.

The bell indicating the end of the fight rang but was barely heard through the commotion of the spectators. Two men dragged the barely conscious body of the defeated, his red shirt camouflaging his spilt blood.

‘Hey pretty—’

‘Fuck off.’ You hissed at the pitiful man who had appeared by your side, not even sparing him a glance when you walked off, leaving him behind, stunned and confused. Maybe he tried to call after you or spit some expletives your way, but you were too focused on what was happening inside the cage to notice.  

‘Gentlemen.’ The host called for the next challenger. ‘In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it. Are you gonna let this man walk away with your money?’ With an antagonising finger, he pointed to the individual you had already been unable to look away from. His back glistened with sweat from the hot lights above his head. Each calm breath accentuated his shoulder blades. He barely reacted to the scream from the crowd as yet another loser came forward. While the other man approached the stage, you watched the champion take a long drag from his cigar, the smoke billowing around him in long ribbons.

‘Our Savior!’ the host exclaimed, and he exchanged some words of grace with the new fighter. Meanwhile, you kept a watchful eye on the other as he drained his glass of his last drops of golden spirit. With each second until the starting bell ticking by, you found yourself wishing him to turn around and face his opponent. But the bell came and went, and he didn’t move. 

The “savior” lunged forward with a kick, pushing your object of interest into the metal wiring. It clattered at impact, and so his grunt was barely audible. Bend over, a dog tag hanging from his neck; he didn’t even attempt to block the punches thrown his way. Unable to look away from fascination, you winced at each hit. In everyone else’s eyes, it was a lost fight. One too many, he should have quit while he was ahead. Surely, he couldn’t take it anymore. But something in you saw the moments ahead. How he got up, fists and teeth clenched. 

It was over before you could even blink. 

Three punches were all it took. All punctuated with a dull metal sound no one could place but claimed to be the barriers of the fighting stage as the “savior” unconsciously fell to the floor.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight’s winner and still king of the Cage–’ the crowd booed to the harmony of the bell calling the Knock Out, and you quickly sought your escape from the eye of the storm before it formed. From the sound of it, things were gonna get ugly very quickly, and that ain’t the show you had come for. 

‘The Wolverine!’ The announcer finished, and you made sure to remember that little nickname as you walked off. 

With the majority of the crowd leaving, their losses very much at the forefront of their minds, you settled down at the bar. 

‘Give me two of whatever he was having back there.’ You told the barman, cocking your head back to the Cage, and turned on the stool to face the room, a plan already forming in your head. You heard behind you how the man poured the drinks and placed one next to the other at your side. 

‘You don’t wanna do this.’ The man chuckled through his warning, fully aware of your intentions. So, subtlety had never exactly been your strong suit, but in this case, you felt it would probably be a great advantage.

‘Now, what makes you say that?’ You reached for the nearest glass and took a gentle sip. The alcohol practically seared your throat as it went down. ‘He’s just like any other man, no?’

‘Lady, that ain’t no man.’, the older man said in a hushed tone, scared as he would be heard by the wrong people, despite of the chaos around you. ‘That’s a monster.’

Those words only sparked more interest inside you. A flash of ruffled dark hair caught your attention between the crowd, and like a shock had gone through your spine, you sat up straight. 

Realising he was fighting a lost beetle, the barman simply sighed. ‘May God help you.’ 

Oh, God knew exactly the type of men you’ve had your spare share of fun with before. Leading the kind of life you had it was the only way to still make things a little bit interesting. And he, the Wolverine, was precisely what you were looking for. 

His steps were heavy on the floorboards. The crowd, while still angry, parted like the Red Sea at his proximity, looking away as if scared to be petrified if they got caught catching a glimpse of him. But you didn’t even try and hide your stare as he walked up to the bar. A fact that did not go unnoticed. And neither did the manner in which his eyes glazed over your body, moving up and down across your frame, hovering in particular over a few places.

Although plenty of seats were vacant, he sat down at your immediate right. His mouth had already slipped open with the request for a drink, but you were quicker with your generous gesture.

He looked at it with a mix of surprise and amusement, but didn’t say a word. The liquor disappeared with one heavy swig, and the glass clashed with the counter. Without needing to hear anything, the helpful bartender brought out the bottle and poured him another.

‘Can I help you?’ The Wolverine muttered, looking at you from the corner of his eye when you had not stopped looking him over since he had sat down. 

Isn’t he a charmer, you thought, but you also could not deny that his attitude and harsh tone were doing things to you. 

‘Just wanted to congratulate you on the fight.’ As subtle as anything else you had done that night, you came closer, leaning towards him. You caught the glance he gave you as you moved, specifically how his eyes once more lingered on your breast. God, how you loved the ones that just didn’t give a shit. Those who were just as blunt as you were in these matters. It made things so much easier.

‘It wasn’t much of a fight.’ He replied, unphased by anything that happened that night.

‘I suppose you’re right.’ You shrugged, twirling the drink in your hand, ‘though I did think you were kind of soft on that last guy. Why let him get you like that?’ Your mind flashed to the fight, to the grunts he had made as his opponent’s fist met his stomach. ‘Surely, you could have knocked him out cold as soon as he stepped into the ring.’

‘Where’s the fun in that?’ With those words, he finally turned to you, and for the first time that night, your eyes met, and that’s when you saw it. That glint in his eye that told you everything you needed to know about him. How he didn’t get in that ring because he needed to. Maybe the money was a bonus, but that is all it was. He got in there because he wanted to. He let those other guys get in a punch or two before knocking the shit and wind out of them. 

He enjoyed it.

The next remarkable thing about his face, aside from the apparent perfect angles of his features, was how truly perfect it was. For someone so eager to brawl, there were no indications of his hobby. No bruises, scars, and even long-term, his nose looked perfectly straight, as did his jaw, never broken or battered. 

He just kept getting more fascinating by the second.

‘So you’re one of those thrill junkies, huh?’ you asked ordinarily, certainly not as if you had just lost yourself while looking at his face.

‘Sure, if you wanna call it that.’ He scoffed. He was holding back; that much was clear. The constant glances he threw your way were more than enough of a tell. He took another sip of his drink. Fuck it, now was a better chance than never. You let your leg slowly climb up and down his calf, gently pressing into him. Something in his posture stiffened, his jaw tensed up at your touch, and you revelled in it.

‘I can imagine it’s quite a rush, getting out there, getting the adrenaline pumping all through you.’ Your voice danced around him, only clear mischief at its core. ‘Makes you wonder…’ You leaned in so close you could nearly whisper the word directly in his ear. ‘If there is anything else that would have that effect on a man.’

‘Don’t start playing games you can’t finish, bub,’ he pushed out.

‘Oh, I’m planning on finishing.’ You smiled sweetly. ‘Don’t you worry ‘bout me, big boy.’

‘Is that right?’ He leaned in to fill the gap you could not match from your position. You had caught his full attention, his empty glass forgotten on the countertop bar.

Though he faught with a bare chest, he had layered up since and now wore a wifebeater tanktop, covered mainly by a blue button-up and a dark brown leather jacket. As he looked at you, he saw a little black dress that fits you like a glove and just called for attention, and that matched with some knee-high boots and your hair all done up just like the boys like it. You had the intention of getting out of this shithole with someone, and you had set your target. Now, you were so close to catching him, too. 

‘Mmm,’ you took the final sip of your drink. ‘So what’you say we get out of here?’

He chuckled at your suggestion, turning back to look at his hands. You noticed how even his knuckles did not have a shadow of a blush on them. ‘You sure you wanna do this, honey?’

‘I know what I’m doing, honey.’ You got up from your stool, placing your hand on his thigh. He immediately tensed up, but only momentarily, as he relaxed once your slowed down the graze of your nails against the inner seam of his jeans. ‘C’mon, let’s have some fun.’ 

Your hand moved across him to reach for his, and the simple touch was enough for you to know you had won. At least this round. As soon as your fingers touched, his entire body gave in. Not that he would have admitted it, nor was it that obvious at first glance. You, however, picked up on those things. How he leaned into your touch and practically let you walk him out of the bar. But you didn’t have to do or say anything for him to place his other hand over your hip, let it fall comfortably over your ass. 

As soon as your body was greeted with the cool winter air, you spun around, pressing yourself against him until his back hit the brick wall. From then on, everything turned to instincts. Like the bartender knew to refill his glass without a word or glance, this man knew how to kiss you. His hands found their positions on you, keeping you steady as his lips explored yours. You could feel the scruff of his beard, the taste of it all: the alcohol, the cigar. None of it should have had any appeal to you, but mixed with his touch, it simply made you melt away. The kiss kept going until your lungs ran out of breath, and even then, you leeched onto him until you couldn’t any longer, not-so-gently pulling his bottom lip between your teeth as you pulled apart.

‘Got a name, gorgeous?’ He asked, almost innocently, lip pink and plump, though mostly exhilarated through your actions, and so you told him, to which he replied: ‘Logan.’ He kissed you once more, deeper, harsher, before continuing his introduction. ‘Just so you know, I’m not one to hold back.’

‘What, like you did with that guy back there?’ You teased, letting your fingers brush through his hair.

‘That was just a warm-up.’ Was it meant as a threat? A warning? Whatever it was, it made your knees weak. ‘So don’t get scared if I get a bit wild.’

‘Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man.’ You moved your hand down, brushing over the side of his face, down his collarbone to trace the silver chain that peaked from underneath his shirt.

‘Just be careful what you wish for.’ He nearly growled before pressing his lips back onto yours.

⦻

You had rented a motel room nearly across the street from The Cage bar and though fairly short, your journey back had turned into one big blur. All you remembered was Logan nearly throwing you into his car, a somewhat sluggish and overrun pick-up with an even older caravan attachment, and pulling you out with as much force. He had practically carried you up to your room, and if it wasn’t for the sake of the other motel visitants, you had a feeling he would have taken you right there and then, up against the green door with a steel 28 hammered into it.

But ever the gentleman, he pulled himself back, only slightly hurdling your attempts at unlocking the door as he let his hands roam all over your body. You threw your head back into the crook of his neck, your hand returning to its place in his messy hair. At the feeling of his lips on you, peppered kisses on the side of your neck, you couldn’t help but tug at his roots. Unintentional, but in hindsight, a revolutionary advance as Logan’s moan heated up your skin, and the thrust of his hips could only be described as untamed.

There really was a monster inside of him. And for one, you couldn’t wait until it got out.

The key finally clicked in its lock, and Logan was the one to push the door open. You spun on the tips of your toes to face him, unable to hide the playful grin on your face. He leaned in for a kiss, but you quickly avoided it with a step back. He stepped forward, kicking the door shut behind him. Just like that, the room fell into darkness, with the exception of the neon sign peaking through the curtains, illuminating your surroundings in glowing streaks of blue.

With a gentleness you had not shown before, you reached for a kiss. A feathery touch that left Logan needing more, the yearning visible in how his body followed you once you let go. And you let him. In fact, as you made your way to the bed, you hooked one finger through one of his belt loops, pulling him along with you. You took small steps backwards until your shins hit the edge of the bed and sat down with a squeak of the mattress springs. Standing in front of you, Logan towered over you. 

A perfectly placed streak of light hit him, showing you just how dark his eyes had turned with need. How his chest was rising heavily as he shook his jacket off, throwing it aside. You watched it pile under the button-up he threw along with it, followed by your coat. Once you looked back at him, the sight of his bare arms had your mind wandering off into the most dark and corrupt places. No thoughts, just pure need pushed your legs open, so far the most inviting of places to Logan.

He wasted no time falling to his knees. You pulled him by the hair for another kiss. Everything got messier by the moment, hungrier, filthier. His hands settled on your thighs, spreading your legs further, then pulling one of them up over his shoulder, giving him space to do whatever he wanted with you. Admittedly, you could have kept kissing him forever, but when his lips attached themselves to your inner thigh, you let yourself fall back on the bed in bliss.

Logan moved closer with each peck. Closer and closer until he reached your panties—the arousal evident from the moment you had revealed yourself to him. You didn’t think the two of you could get any closer until, with a harsh tug, he pulled you up against his face, the bridge of his nose tracing over the soaked material. A shaky moan escaped past your lips, and the hold you kept on his hair tightened. Putting the underwear on started to feel like your biggest regret that day as Logan got comfortable placing sloppy kisses over them, sending shock after shock of elation through your core. 

Your back arched at the sensation of his cold hand on your hot skin, climbing up to the spot where your bodies connected. Still, through that damned lace, he pushed a finger over your slit. The pleasure slowly began to form into agony as you couldn’t take it much longer. But perhaps neither could he, as not long after he had started those teasing strokes, he grabbed at your panties and, with a pull, ripped them to shreds. The sound of the material ripping was harsh and startling but not half as much as the feeling of his hot breath against your pussy, or his tongue finally pressing against it. 

‘Fuck,’ you cursed, to which he responded with a muffled moan, of which the vibrations only added to your pleasure. Logan was undeniably in his element at your feet. The intensity of his movements was proof enough that he enjoyed every single moment of it. The taste of your juices was like ambrosia, and he couldn’t get enough. 

Your hips bucked up in a moment of his more expressive movements. The broken record in your mouth was stuck on a mix of profanities and his name. You couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of his fingers on you, how you wished he would have done more than just tease you, but it wasn’t needed for you to feel the tight twist in your stomach. Your whole body began to tense, including your thighs. It took the sound of Logan’s deep groans for you to realise that, in your desperate state, you had started to squeeze your thighs together, practically locking his head in between. 

But, unlike your first thought that had made you want to pull away, his groans had not been worrisome. It was full-on pleasure that he was displaying. To set aside any of your doubt in the case, he held on to your leg, keeping it exactly where it was, and when he glanced up, your eyes met that same exact spark you had seen in the bar. That same hunger and insanity of a man in despair. 

Immediately, an idea bubbled in your mind. How you had still been able to form any coherent thought was a mystery, and even more, how you had managed to execute it. It was most likely not possible without his help, as you were sure if he was steadfast in his current position, there would be no way of you getting him to move a slight inch, but with a swift manoeuvre, you pulled yourself off the bed, and flipped yourself, as well as Logan, for you to position yourself on top of his lips.

‘You readin’ my mind now, princess?’ the nickname alone brought back the tightness in your stomach, accentuated by the nick of his teeth against your inner thigh after his remark. There was a moment of slightly awkward shuffling as he pushed himself and you up onto the centre of the bed, but once set, there was no going back. 

Instincts took over once more as his tongue moved over your folds. For that extra friction, you began to move in tandem over his features, grinding into him in a heat of need. Now, you had been with a number of guys, each freakier than the other, but none of them had ever let you ride their face like a fuck pillow. He would have been obsolete if not for the fact that he was getting off on sucking your clit.

‘So fucking desperate,’ you moaned between thrusts, and since his mouth was a bit preoccupied, Logan’s response came in the form of his hand firmly smacking across your ass. The lingering sting burnt through the rest of you just long enough for you to start missing it and that’s when he struck the sensitive skin again. Your moans turned higher in pitch with each time he did, and the actions of his tongue got more ferocious. Without saying a word, the message was clear: who’s the desperate one now?

And the answer was very simple. You both were. That’s the only reason you had walked into that room together to begin with. Both of you had urges that had gone unkept for too long. Urges where just sex wasn’t enough. There was always something missing. Until now.

All this time he had made sure you stayed right on top of him. Long and tight enough to make you wonder if he had actually had a death wish and was planning to go out in style. But evertime you looked at him, he seemed to almost be at peace, completely focused in the delicious task at hand. When he did finally pull you up from his lips, it was only to introduce the last puzzle piece into the game. 

The curses rolled of your tongue as he pushed his fingers into you. Long and thick, already stretching you out. He left kisses up on your clit, sloppy and wet just to keep toying with the nerves. You could feel the callouses on his thumb as he traced and pressed over it. 

His other hand was again on your ass, this time digging into the soft flesh to keep you at bay. You were stuck in the rapturous stance, ready to burst at any time. 

‘C’mon, baby, fucking cum on my tongue,’ he growled before placing himself right back where his demand would be met and this time, as the tightness pulled at your body, you couldn’t control it. Not a minute later, were you gasping out his name as you let the pleasure take over all of you.

You rode your high out to the final moment where he kissed your thigh again, eyes heavy and faint smile adorned his lips. While both your breaths were evening out, you slipped down over his body to see the full picture. Even in the barely-lit room, you could see how his face was glistening with your juices, and it just kept going down his neck, drenching the top of his tanktop. It was a sight for sore eyes—and legs. What you would do to see it over and over again. 

With a soft laugh that only spelled out “trouble”, you started to softly trace the lines of his beard. He looked up at you with furrowed brows, awaiting an explanation to your actions. 

‘Told you I could handle it,’ you smiled, smacking his cheek. Not viciously or even that hard, but firmly enough to wake him up from his pussy-drunk state. 

And wake him up, you did. 

‘They call it foreplay for a reason, sugar.’ He smirked and suddenly you grew very aware of his hold on you. The next second, you felt yourself move through the air as he took his turn in flipping you over. You nearly got the wind blown out of your lungs as your back hit the mattress for the second time that night, this time with his weight on top of you. 

There was the sound of a belt unbuckling. Your eyes automatically searched for the source, ready to see what he had been packing below, but Logan was quicker, cupping your face in his hand, squeezing your cheeks so you’d have no choice to look up at him. 

‘Eyes on me.’ His voice was as soft as limestone, fine and effervescent in the most rigid fashion. Then his hand moved down, pushing you by the throat into the soft pillow underneath. He leaned forward, placing his mouth over your ear to whisper: ‘Gonna be a good girl for me?’

You nodded as best as you could with the stiff hold he had on you.

‘Use your words,’ he growled and squeezed. 

‘Yes,’ you choked out weakly, exactly like he had wanted you to. 

The release of his hand reopened the next floodgates in your body. You could still taste the result of the last time on his lips and tongue when he kissed you. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. And the most painful part of it all was that you knew just how close you were to getting what you wanted. You could feel the loose belt buckle against your thigh.

‘Logan,’ you gasped as an ending to the kiss. ‘Please.’

‘What did I just tell you, hmm?’ And yet, he still pulled at your dress to push it up over your hips. ‘Use your fucking words.’

‘Fuck me.’ You tried to reach for the top of his jeans, but there was no moving from the position he had you in. ‘Need you inside me.’

‘But yeah, I’m the desperate one,’ he mocked before sitting up. You watched with anticipation at how he unzipped his trousers, and pulled his dick out from his boxers. There was no surprise that he was completely hard by now, and even the size, considering the rest of him, was not a revelation. This had been exactly what you had been counting on when you saw him in that cage. Seeing him stroke himself in front of you was nothing but validation. 

‘Just look at you,’ he said as he kept his hand on his cock, ‘Opened your legs up for me the moment you saw me.’ His other hand reached for the top of your dress, stretching it down to reveal your breast. ‘Bet you would have let me fuck you in that cage, huh?’

‘Can’t deny, the thought had crossed my mind.’ You admitted, letting yourself think back to how attractive he looked back in there. Drenched in sweat under those cold lights. That animalistic glint in his eyes. Not much different from now, truth be told.

That had been all Logan needed to hear. You hadn’t realised you were holding your breath in expectation until the feeling of him entering you finally took over. Your lips formed a perfectly blissful O as he stretched you out. 

‘That’s right,’ he beamed, ‘gonna fill you up. Nice and tight.’ And he didn’t waste any time, pulling back right after he had reached your depths. In seconds, he had a pace going that left you shaking underneath him, the grunts that accompanied his thrusts recoiling through your nerves. You hands clutched around for a something to grab onto as you started to feel like you were going to sink into the bed from the power at which he fucked you—for that’s what it was, nothing but a brutal and rough fuck.

You searched the sheets for grip, but Logan had other ideas. Taking you by the wrists, he pulled your arms up over your head, holding them against the paneling of the bed. The dull banging on the wall could have very well been your own headboard or the angry fists of your neighbours from the other side, but either way, you were too preoccupied to pay them any mind. 

This had been what you were waiting for. What he had promised. The untamed animal that worked off of nothing but impulses. Anything to suffice that pure need for pleasure. 

His grip on your wrists was tight, and to say it didn’t turn you on even more than anything else he had done before would be a blatant lie, but your urge to touch him was stronger. You tried to wiggle your hands free, but there was no way of doing so. Not with a man like Logan in control, that much he had made clear.

‘This not good for ya?’ he huffed out, but before you could respond, he pulled you up by your arms until you straddled his thighs, chest to chest, an angle which pulled him in even deeper. 

‘Oh my god,’ your eyes rolled back at the sensation.

‘No god will help you now,’ he said against your lips before bringing you in for another kiss. You wrapped yourself around him, finding comfort in the softness of his hair once more while he began to guide your hips into a steady motion to fit the pace at which he moved. Testing the waters again, you pulled at the hairs on the nape of his neck. The smile on his face as his head rolled back was unmistakable even in the dark of the room. 

You pulled harder and there it was. That pure moan you had been waiting for and once you got a taste of it, you couldn’t get enough. 

And neither could he.

With the goal set, you dragged your nails over his shoulders as you let your hips roll over his.

‘Fuck yeah,’ he moaned in ecstasy, ‘use me, baby.’ The words came out airy and made your head spin at their contrast. How could he be acting like your little plaything while still taking full control of you? It made you feel grand and tiny in his arms at the same time, but mostly, it was so incredibly hot.

He hissed at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin. ‘Don’t you dare fucking stop.’ He stressed each word with a thrust, dotting it with a sharp kiss. And so, you did as you told, pushing yourself onto him in all ways you could. You didn’t know if you had it in you to draw blood, but it sure felt close to it. You were waiting for Logan to scream out, pull you off of him, but it only seemed to rile him up more.

That’s a monster. That’s what the man in the bar had called him. Monster. And there was a sense of truth to it. There was a beast hiding inside him, ready to attack. Maybe he thought he had found a victim when he saw you, but as you clenched around his length, you were quite the opposite. 

You were no victim. No damsel in distress. No princess. 

You were a hunter, and you had just caught your grand prize.

‘I’m gonna—’ you were unable to finish the sentence before the rapture. You screamed his name in elation as the second flush satisfaction washed over you that night but it wasn’t enough for Logan. He kept on rutting into you, his grunts filled the room, until you felt it all spill out of you.

Once he had caught his breathing under control, he sighed out a contented “fuck,” which you wholeheartedly agreed with as you pulled yourself off him. The emptiness you immediately began to feel was disquieting, and you could feel that need for him bubbling up in your stomach again. The only thing that slightly helped was the sight of him when you returned from the bathroom, jeans on the floor next to the pile of clothes you had formed through the night. 

You took all of him in with wonder as you slipped your dress off your body.

They shook their heads

Saying, "God help her" when I

Told 'em he's my man.

But your good Lord didn't need to

Lift a finger, I can fix him

No, really, I can.

Woah- Maybe I can't.

You awoke to the sunbeams bursting through the curtains. Sore all over, you tried to stretch across the bed, mindful of the presence next to you. 

Except, when you stretched out your hand, you were only met with the soft material of the bedsheets. The mattress had gone cold and reformed back to its natural state, having forgotten any weight that might have laid there the night before. If you had looked outside, you would have seen an empty parking spot beside yours. The only sign of there ever having been someone in that bed with you was the ghostly presence of the smell of cigars and aftershave. 

You smiled to yourself, nails digging into the sheets as you let your mind wander back to the realm of dreams.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

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[loveyouprongs]

hope we grow old, but we never grow up

james potter x fem!reader

upcoming content: fluff! mentions of reader being anxious in crowds, mentions of just having had sex but not smut, mentions of alcohol. lmk if you think i missed anything :)

authors note: i hope you like this! i’m still new to writing, so i tried my best! inspired by one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite artists: never grow up by niall horan!🎶 despite any photos used in the header, it’s important that people of all races can identify with my work so please let me know if any of the descriptive language i use is exclusionary, i’m trying my best!

word count: 2.8k

masterlist

“I hope we still dance like we're fallin' in love, Hope we still drink like we're back in the pub”

the noise inside the pub was so loud you could feel the floor shake beneath your feet, or maybe it was just your brain making it up. you were getting jostled and a man elbowed your shoulder, causing the cranberry juice in your cup to slosh over the edge. a sharp gasp escaped your lips that you were sure would get lost in the rowdy atmosphere but james quickly snapped his head to look back at you, eyes trailing down to the red liquid dripping down your hand.

“y’alright, sweetness?” big, brown eyes peering at you as the hustle and bustle of the crowd moved on around you both.

“i’m good,” you said back softly, squeezing his hand that had been tightly grasped in yours since the moment you both walked in. today was the final match of the rugby championship and everyone in town was together to watch in anticipation… and drink, no matter the outcome. james had sweetly invited you out with his friends a few nights ago and you of course said yes. the two of you had begun dating a few weeks ago, and you were eager to learn everything about him and spend as much time as possible with him, even if it meant trudging through sweaty, drunk bodies, resisting the urge to cover your ears.

“sirius got here early so he got a table for us already, we’re almost there,” james assured, squeezing your hand back. as you neared the large booth tucked away in the corner, the weight in your chest lifted at the sight of remus rolling his eyes at whatever sirius was saying, waving his hands expressively.

“they’re here! finally!” marlene squeaked and everyone’s eyes turned towards the two of you and they started making room for you both in the booth. you couldn’t stop the tingly feeling in your chest at how easily they accepted you in their tight-knit group.

“mate, where the fuck have you been?’ sirius exclaimed, slapping a hand on james back.

“if you couldn’t tell, he’s already had a bit to drink,” remus muttered in your ear as you leaned in for a half hug around him. when you first met, you were sure he didn’t like you despite james’ reassurances that he was just a quiet person naturally. you understood that, being quite shy yourself, but you still desperately wanted his friends to like you. so when you instinctually gave him a soft hug for the first time and he didn’t pull away, even initiating it the next time you saw him, you were sure you and remus were becoming good friends.

“oh, i’m sure,” you responded, eyes widening at the collection of empty pint glasses that littered the table.

“what’s the score?” james asked, cleaning his glasses against his sweater with one hand, squinting up at the screen, the other stayed wrapped around yours, even though you were both sitting comfortably.

“not good jamesie, why’d y’think i’ve been drinking so much already?” sirius said, taking another swig of his beer.

throughout the night james was intensely focused on the match, going between not even breathing as he stared at the screen to groaning or shouting with sirius whenever his team made a play. you were fine with the fact that he wasn’t paying much attention to you, knowing this game was so important to him, and you and marlene were catching up anyway.

“y’having a good time, honey bee?” james asked, looking down at you for the first time in a while, his large arm wrapping around your shoulders, warmth immediately overtaking you. you could tell he’s well past tipsy, eyes alight with bubbly frivolity.

“honey bee? that’s new”

“‘cus you’re so sweet,” his hand that wasn’t grabbing at your shoulder came up to stroke your cheek and you were sure he could feel it warming up under his touch. the subsequent smirk that crawled across his face affirmed your theory, all adoring if not a tad smug, but he was charming enough to get away with it.

“i am having a good time, yeah, i mean, i don’t really understand what’s going on but it’s cute seeing you so focused.”

james laughed and you felt his chest rumble against your cheek as he tugged you in closer, “mm, it’s probably good that you don’t anyway, we’re getting absolutely shitted on.”

“it’s only half time, it can still turn around!” sirius slurred emotionally with his head in his hands, a lot like the other patrons in the bar disappointed at the team's performance.

“keep telling yourself that, mate,” remus said, patting his back pitifully, still reading his book.

“you want another drink? i can go get you one,” james offered and you shook your head, preferring to stay relatively sober so james could have as much fun as he wanted. “you’ll let me know if you do though, right? anything you want, i’ll do it for you.”

for the umpteenth time tonight, and for the millionth time in your relationship so far, james made your heart stop as he looked down at you with his unwavering gaze. you knew he was only offering to navigate the crowded bar for you, knowing your aversion to crowds, but such a declaration paired with the tightness of his grip around your shoulders, how you could feel his heart beat against the soft of your arm if you focused enough. something about this moment, tucked away in a pub booth, felt like it was the beginning of forever.

“i know,” you breathed out softly and james lips quirked up in a small smile, as if instinctively, and with a single nod and press of his lips to your head before he turned back to the screen, you knew he felt the same way.

in a way that could only be described as a miracle, the team pulled through and as the reporters announced a home win, the crowd erupted in cheers. “praise be to god!” sirius cried, reaching for remus’ pint while remus tried to keep him away. he’d been cut off around thirty minutes ago when he attempted to throw marlene’s purse at the screen.

“sit down! you’re not even religious!” remus sighed, wrangling in his wild friend. you could only smile as remus tried to feign annoyance but couldn’t help but laugh when sirius started pressing congratulatory, sloppy kisses to his cheek.

“i can’t believe it!” james cried, wrapping his arms around your front, your back pressed to his chest as he towered over you. you were still sat in the booth but james had stood up five minutes before the match ended, pacing to get his nervous energy out.

you titled your head back to look up at him, genuine happiness radiating off his large form. “that was incredible!”

he looked down at you with a beaming grin, “it definitely was! did you see that last play? blimey, can’t believe we pulled it off!”

as he spoke you twisted on your butt to face him, and he caged you in between his spread thighs. “i know! i don’t know how they do it, i would get so tired- oh!”

you were no longer sitting, now fully upright with your feet dangling off the floor, arms tightly strewn around james’ neck as he lifted you in a hug. you could feel his hair tickle your cheek as he tucked his face into your neck. he spun you both around in staggering circles, having to stop when he felt the alcohol quickly begin to travel back up his stomach.

james couldn’t believe how perfect today was. his favorite team winning, surrounded by his friends, and at the center of it all was you. like a figurine from a snow globe come to life, so charming and sweet. so open to becoming friends with his friends, liking what he likes; he still doesn’t know how or why you agreed to a date with him, nonetheless put your trust in his rough hands, but he could only hope that soon he could carry your heart, and you his.

“this whole day is incredible,” he said, lips brushing against your ear as he set you down.

your guys’ bubble was popped when marlene shook your shoulders, not quite as gone as everyone else, but getting there as sangria glossed her lips “babes do you hear this?!” she let out loudly and you tuned back into reality, music now blasting through the speakers as the patrons danced and sung along happily.

“sorry to steal her from ya, but this is our song!” marlene slurred winking up at james who only shook his head and watched you get dragged to the middle of the makeshift dance floor and jump about with the other girls.

“to doing this all next year?” remus spoke, handing james a glass of water, with one for himself as well.

james chuckled and watched as sirius infiltrated your dance circle, horribly attempting to break dance, but you’d never guess based off of the encouraging woops! and wows! from you and the girls hyping him up.

james could do this again next year, and the year after that, he’d quite like it, he thinks.

“I think that we could be like that, every single Sunday in our Sunday best. Laughin' over nothin' with a full wine glass.”

“honey bee, i’m hopeless with this,” james grumbled, giving up on his tie and falling back against the bed. at your silence he rolled on his side to catch a glimpse of your face through the mirror. your lips twisted at the side, surely holding in a laugh you refused to grant him with, not wanting him to know he’s softening you up again.

“it might help if you button your shirt first,” you said, finally turning to face him. even with his face half squished against the mattress and hair sticking up in all directions he was still the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen.

his eyes slowly grazed up your figure, body he was just ravaging now covered in soft, flowy blue fabric, and your hair was tied up neatly with a bow. James let out a low whistle, heat immediately rising to your cheeks, “well would y’look at you,” he mumbled as if he was speaking to himself, “s’ gorgeous.”

you took a minute to collect yourself, shaking your head at how he still made you this flustered this far into your relationship. “thank you, love. you could look beautiful too if you got dressed.” you now sat primly on the sheets beside him, stroking his cheek.

“too tired,” he said, voice low as he engulfed the hand of yours on his cheek in his and brought it to his lips, “you really wore me out, baby.”

“james!” you chastised, trying to pull your hand away fruitlessly. he smirked against it and pressed a final kiss to your palm.

“what? you did! absolutely mindblowing! that thing y’ did with your hips… oh baby!” he moaned and you slapped a hand against his chest, walking back over to the mirror.

“clearly i didn’t hold up my end of the bargain if you’re able to get dressed s’ fast, lemme make it up to you, honey.”

“no!” you squeaked, quickly gathering your make up and running to the bathroom, james’ laugh echoing behind you. any more talk like that and he actually would convince you to go back to bed with him for another round. but you promised you’d go to marlene’s birthday dinner and you were really looking forward to it. in the back of your mind, you knew it was a mistake to get tangled up in the sheets so close to when you had to leave, knowing james could be absolutely insatiable when he wanted to, but you couldn’t resist!

for the next few minutes, you both got ready in silence. you applying light mascara and blush, and james trying to manage his hair. ��need a haircut soon,” he said breaking the silence as he reached over you in the bathroom.

“me too, i think. but i like your hair long.”

“i know you do,” james remarked back, a haughty smirk donning his features once again, falling into a pure smile as you playfully rolled your eyes. as he combed some product into his thick locks you took in his appearance, a plain white t-shirt that hugged his muscles and framed his arms in a way that made you question if he was really from this earth or a Greek god, and fitted slacks, you recognized as the one’s you bought him a few months earlier, after claiming he had no nice going out clothes aside from jeans and the one tuxedo he had for a friends wedding.

“you look really nice, james” you said and he cast his gaze down to you through the mirror.

“thank you, sweetness,” he said back and two sentences, as simple as that, caused the love in the room to blow up like a balloon. the sultry, teasing energy from before now a pure adoration that hung in the air.

“we’re a good looking couple, aren’t we,” james said as you both finished, now looking at the two of you in the mirror.

a startled laugh escaped you, “i suppose we are,”

“no wonder i always want us to be having sex, i mean who could blame me!” james exclaimed, walking to the door, keys jingling in his hand.

“please get it all out now before we get to marlene’s, this is supposed to be a classy party!”

“oh, alright! but i’ll remember this when you’re grabbing at me later,” he said, holding open the car door for you.

“we’ll see about that.”

the sun was beginning to set, casting marlene’s back garden in an orange glow. she set up tables and chairs, all holding delicious food and wine, and fairy lights were strung along the awning.

“marls this looks amazing! happy birthday!” you said, giving her a hug.

“thank you! i love your dress! potter… you cleaned up nicely,”

“it was hard to find a clean shirt, but this one passed the smell test, didn’t it, love?” he joked back, twin gags coming from you and marlene before the three of you erupted into laughter.

“i want you to come meet my best friend at work, she’s so nice!” marlene said and in a flash you both were gone, pastel skirts flowing in the wind.

“‘bout time you got here!” sirius called, hugging james, “was starting to thing you wouldn’t show,”

“sorry, got caught up at home…”

remus rolled his eyes, already knowing what was coming.

“…if you know what i mean,” james finished, wiggling his eyebrows, eating up sirius’ wolf whistles and high fives.

“you keep us oddly informed of your sex life, you know that mate?” remus asked, pushing off james’ hand that took purchase in his hair.

“what else are brothers for?”

“ugh!” remus groaned.

“are they bothering you, rem?” you asked, pulling up a chair at their table.

“aren’t they always?” james and sirius let out matching offended scoffs as you laughed.

“y’always take remus’ side, ‘s not fair!” james whined.

“i have to! it takes two of us to watch over the two of you!”

“exactly,” remus laughed, crossing his arms across his chest.

“well in that case, the two of you can stay here, while jamesie and i settle a bet,” sirius said, mischievously, lighting the adrenaline in your boyfriend’s eyes.

“do i want to know?” you asked james, who sent you a blinding smile.

“siri here thinks he’s faster than me. than me! can you believe him?” james said, stretching his calf. his thighs were hugged wonderfully in his trousers and you quickly darted a glance at marlene’s beautiful -yet muddy- garden.

“have to prove him wrong, don’t i?”

“yeah, you can’t be datin’ a loser, a slow one at that!” sirius retaliated and you knew there’s no way you could talk him out of it then.

“just make sure to be careful of your nice clothes, love,” you pleaded, “you look so handsome, the last thing you need is to be covered in grass stains.”

“promise, i’ll try my best honey bee,” james said back, cupping your cheeks so your lips squished together and pressing a kiss atop them.

“c’mon let’s get this race started! or are you scared, pretty boy?” sirius egged and james ran up besides him. as the boys took off you knew it was only a matter of time before it resulted in a friendly yet frantic wrestling match, as most of their competitions did. so you captured the image of your tall, broad-shouldered boyfriend, dressed like he just came out of a catalog, running under the setting sun in your head now to look back on fondly. his childish giggles carried throughout the air and you had a pathetic smile on your face despite yourself.

“you’ll just have to hose him off before you get in the car,” remus said, content with sitting with you, watching your loved one's mess about, truly happy.

“it’s my own fault for thinking he could keep a white shirt clean.”

[motorsportbarbie13]

Forbidden - Part 6

In which Maxie shows you just how much he missed you.

Warnings: smuttttttttty ;) minors DNI pls. Swearing. umm...that's it? idk, I'm terrible with warnings, let me know if I'm forgetting something. Quick note: Almost there love bugs! I think we'll have one more after this and then maybe an epilogue. I almost don't want this one to enddddddd wah. Pairing: Max Verstappen x LeClercSister!reader Word Count: 3k words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Master List

“I have something for you.” Max rasps the moment you’re in his arms again behind the closed door of his hotel room. 

Nerves have his hands shaking as they fist handfuls of your black cotton t-shirt. The entire ride up to the 10th floor of the hotel, he had been having an internal battle with himself. He couldn’t believe you were here, slotted back into his life after weeks apart and he didn’t want to do something to scare you off again but…

“You do?” You give him a puzzled look. What on earth could he possibly have for you, he didn’t know you were coming. 

Max nods, releasing you for the first time since he took you into his arms in the lobby. “I got it weeks ago…I’ve been carrying it with me ever since…” He pauses, gaze darting away for just a moment, “that day, just in case you came back to me when I wasn’t expecting it. I wanted to be prepared.” He rubs at the back of his neck, eyes dropping from yours to the floor. Your insides melt at his sudden tender shyness. 

You smile over at Max, who’s begun digging in his navy and yellow Red Bull Racing backpack. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Maxie.” 

He nods, a soft sound of satisfaction playing on his lips when he finds what he’s bene looking for. “I know.” He says, turning around to face you. 

Your stomach drops to your toes when you see the baby blue bag dangling from his finger tips. “Maxie.” His name is a warning, your heart thumping against your rib cage. 

“It’s not a ring, schatje.” He says on a chuckle, taking a baby blue box tied with a white satin ribbon out of the bag when you make no moves to take it out of his hands. “Not yet anyway.” 

There goes your stomach back down to your toes again. 

When you’ve composed yourself, you reach out to take the box from Max. “I was going to give it to you the day Charles found out about us but obviously that never happened. It’s just something small, to remind you of me when we can’t be together.” 

Trembling fingers tug at the ribbon as your eyes dart up to Max’s anxious face and then back down to the box. Nestled in the box is a delicate gold chain with 2 pendants on it: a block M and a block V, both with 3 tiny diamonds inlaid on the edge of each letter. “Max.” You whisper, tears pricking at the back of your eyes once again. 

Max’s hands wring together in front of you, his face still anxious despite the smile spreading across your face. You look up at him, chest squeezing tightly. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Thank you.” 

“You like it?” 

“I love it.” You coo, lifting the chain up out of the box before holding it out to him. “Will you put it on me?” 

Spinning, you capture your hair up in one hand while waiting patiently for Max to get his shaking hands under control. The cool chain sends a shiver skittering down your spine, a small sigh escaping your lips at the feeling of Max’s strong fingers brushing against your skin. 

When the necklace is secured, you turn back around to wrap your arms around his neck, lips dusting first over his jaw before working your way up to his lips. Those lips you’ve missed so much the last few weeks. You couldn’t believe how stupid you had been to push him away when he so obviously wanted to be there for you, wanted to support you. Regret has your cheeks heating, shame budding in your stomach. 

Max must sense the shift in your mood because he pulls away before looking down at you, brows knit together. “What’s wrong, schatje?” 

You shake your head, unable to get the words out. 

“Please tell me.” He begs. 

“I just…” A cry lodges in your throat and your unable to speak around it for a moment. 

Max leads you over to the love seat on the other side of the room, needing to solve this sudden problem before anything else. He sits first before pulling you into his lap, cradling you against his chest. His lips find his favorite place on you, that spot in the crook of your neck where your perfume lingers for hours. “Talk to me, baby.” 

“I’m sorry I pushed you away. I shouldn’t have. You wanted to help, you did nothing but help and I still threw you out.” For what feels like the millionth time that day, tears slip down your cheeks in a steady stream but Max’s lips are there to kiss them away. 

“No, sweet girl. No apologies.” His voice is soft, soothing. “You were doing what you thought you needed to do at the time, I could never fault you for that. I’m just glad you came back to me.” 

“I love you, Maxie.” You murmur, face buried in his hair as he continues to nibble at your neck. 

Max has never heard sweeter words, not even when Christian told him he had won the championship for the first time. “I love you too, liefje.” He pulls away from your neck then, causing you to whimper a bit in protest, but he needed to see your face for what he was about to say next. “I was planning on asking you to be my girlfriend that night too, which I kind of fucked up but I hope that’s still on the table for us. I want to go public. No more secrets, no more lies. I want you next to me in the paddock, in my garage during races, wearing my colors and my number. All in, everything. I need that with you.” 

There’s a look of unbridled desire on Max’s face, like he’s been waiting for this very moment for months now and he’s finally worked up the courage to put words to his feelings. Your hands come up to frame his face, delicate fingers scratching his scruffy face gently. “Bien sur, mon amor.” Of course, my love. “I’ve been yours since the first time we kissed.” 

Max covers your lips in a kiss then, fingers digging into your hips in a desperate attempt to bring you closer to him. He’d gone too long without being able to touch you and he wants to make up for all the time lost. With one swift movement, Max lifts you up out of his lap and carries you across the room to his bed. The way he sets you down on the crisp white hotel duvet has your heart squeezing. 

“I missed you so much, liefje.” Max’s voice drops an octave, husky and full of need. “Let me show you how much.” 

“Sil vous plait.” Please You breathe.

Shaking hands slip up underneath the hem of your cream linen dress, the rough pads of his fingers drawing out a moan from your lips as they skim over the creamy soft skin of your thighs. They find their home underneath the layer of lace that is already halfway ruined from the slick mess that’s been gathering there since Max got you alone. 

“God, you are exquisite.” He murmurs as he brings his lips to cover yours in a searing kiss that is all tender promises and whispered apologies. 

His fingers swipe past your clit, not quite giving you the pressure and friction you crave, but just enough to make you needy. There’s plenty of time for that though and Max wants to make sure this is as drawn out as possible. He has so much to say with his mouth and hands to you tonight and he wants everything to inch by in a slow, heated drip of steady pleasure. 

Needing to be closer to him and wanting out of the suddenly restricting fabric, you sit up momentarily, unbuttoning the dress as quickly as humanly possible. Max helps, starting at the bottom of the dress and you instantly miss his touch on you. Neither of you are willing to break the kiss, so it’s a little fumbled and a lot messy as you attempt to get yourself out of the clothes you flew here in. 

“Need to see you wearing nothing but my necklace.” He pants.

While you’re busy unbuttoning the dress, Max reaches behind his back to pull his team polo off. You hum in appreciation, reaching out to drag your slender fingers over the bumps and ridges of his stomach. A thrill shoots though you when he shivers at your touch, heated gaze pinning you to the bed.

Slowly guiding you down onto your back, Max drapes himself over your body, fitting his thigh between your legs. Your skin heats as you run your hands through his hair, guiding his mouth down the column of your neck. His mouth stalls, taking his time to nip and suck at the fragile skin there. Max barely resists the urge to suck a love bite onto your neck, knowing that you would murder him if he did that before tomorrow’s race. There will be time for that, he reminds himself. There will be time for him to mark you as his own in places that others will see. For now, he’ll settle for marking you in places that are only for him. 

He drags a heated, wet line with his tongue from your neck, stopping once again to lap against your collar bone and the hollow of your throat. His mouth sucks at the racing pulse point there, a thrill shooting straight to his already hard cock at how fast your heart is beating because of him. 

“Max.” You whine, grinding your hips up into his muscled thigh that sits slotted between your legs, desperate for friction and relief from the pounding pulse between your legs. “God I missed your hands on me. Your touch. Everything.” You probably should be embarrassed with how needy and breathless your plea comes out, but shame has been left at the door for tonight. All you need are Max’s hands on you and his cock in you, and you swear you’d be content for the rest of your entire existence. 

Max grips at the flesh of your hips, desperate to get any sort of purchase on your body. His mouth continues it’s perusal of your now slick skin and when he covers one already achingly hard nipple, you can’t help the cry that leaves your lips. His tongue flicks over the pebbled bit of flesh before nipping at it with the very tips of his teeth. Your hips snap up off the bed, bumping his hips with your own at the feeling that boarders somewhere between earth shattering pleasure and mind numbing pain. 

Fingers get lost in his hair as Max moves to pay attention to the other nipple, equally as hard and needy for his tongue. The sounds of near purring that rumble at the back of your throat send Max into orbit as he rocks his painfully hard cock into the soft mattress beneath him. “Taste so good.” He slurs against your body, hands raking up your legs once again finding themselves buried in your dripping pussy. 

It’s too much. Much too much. The overstimulation of his mouth and hands all over you has you puddled in a whimpering, sodden mess under this man that is supposed to be all wrong for you. 

“I love you like this.” His voice is husky, dragging itself across your skin like the fingers that are currently buried deep inside you. “All messy and needy, all for me. Only for me.” A possessive streak shoots through Max, suddenly needing you to know that this is only for him. You’re his. You will always be his. He nearly lost you once and he’ll never run the risk of losing you ever again. 

“Only for you.” You confirm, hips grinding deep against the thick fingers that are coaxing you to what you can only predict will be a syrupy sweet release. “Only for you from now on. God, Max your touch…so good.” The ability to form coherent sentences seems to have escaped you. 

Your head thrashes to the side, the vulnerability of being so open for him in so many ways is overwhelming. Being so intensely seen by this man above you is almost too much to take. 

“Are you going to come for me, schatje? Come on my fingers, pretty girl. Show me how much you missed me and how much I possess you.” 

The sound of Max’s voice is enough to send you over the edge, that familiar lick of fire building itself up at the base of your spine. You feel it start and so does Max, that familiar sign of your hands grasping for anything they can reach, this time it’s his back. He’ll gladly be marked up with red welts and scratches if it means he gets you beneath him like this every fucking night for the rest of his life. Your climax rips through you, stealing your breath for a quick moment before you come, Max’s name tumbling from your lips over and over like a reverent prayer. 

“That’s it, love. So good, you’re so good for me. Such a pretty girl giving me exactly what I want. God, how did I get so fucking lucky? Why did I wait so long?” 

Max talks you through the rest of your orgasm, shockwaves of pleasure lancing through you for so long you start to lose track of time. It could be 5 minutes or 5 hours, but eventually, you’re back down to earth, feeling so languid and soft you don’t think you could move even if your life depended on it. 

“Max.” You breath, pulling at his shoulders to get his head level with yours so you can get your mouth on him again. You lick into his mouth, teeth bumping against him in a desperate messy kiss that promises everything under the stars. 

“What do you need, schatje? Tell me what you want and it’s yours.” 

“I need you inside me. I need to be stuffed full of you so I never forget what you feel like ever again.” 

Before you’re able to even take another breath, Max’s jeans and boxers have joined the heap of clothing on the floor and the head of his dick, red and angry and dripping for you already, is notched against your waiting pussy. When he sinks into you, filling you up so deliciously, it feels like your first night together all over again. You’re overwhelmed by the size of him, the feel of him deep inside you, filling you up beyond words. 

For several moments, neither of you move. Max holds himself steady above you writhing form, already buried in you to the hilt, refusing to move until he knows you’re okay. A series of quick nods tells him you’re fine and slowly, so very slowly you almost can’t feel it, Max begins to move. It’s slow at first, as he tries to draw out the pleasure from your body like he’s playing a stringed instrument. Long, silky movements from his achingly hard cock seem to war with each other, the contrast between the rhythm and his dick send delightful shimmers of energy up and down your skin. 

Max can barely catch his breath, not fully understanding how you can be so soft and warm and breathtakingly tight all at the same time. The feeling of being buried in you might just be the best thing he’s ever experienced. He could probably spend the rest of his life worshipping your body like this and it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his craving of your body. He gazes down at you, the look of reverence on his face has tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, as he continues to push in and out of you. One moment he’s nearly fully out of your slick wetness and the next, he’s plunging back in, taking fully from you what he knows is his now. 

“Come inside me Max. Fill me up, please.” Your desperate words are enough to have Max’s hips snapping harshly against your body over and over. His tight hold of control he usually has over his body slowly breaking underneath your spell. 

“My pretty girl needs me to fill her, huh? Need the cum leaking out of you, down that pretty thigh of yours, to remind you who you belong to?” 

All you can do is nod, your entire consciousness consumed with him, the way he feels, the smell of his cologne that lingers on his skin that mixes with his sweat, creating a dizzyingly pleasurable mix of something you’ll never forget. 

Max feels that familiar painful warning sign deep in his stomach. He’s not going to last much longer and by the sounds you’re making beneath him, he knows you’re already there. His mouth latches to yours, stealing the cry from your lips and swallowing it whole. The vice grip those velvet walls snare him in when you come sends him hurtling towards his own release. Max isn’t usually very loud, he loves to talk you through it yes, but when it comes to his own pleasure? He’s quite reserved. But he can’t help the animalistic groan that starts deep in his gut rumbles out of him as he spills into you, white hot streams shooting deep inside you. 

Max collapses on top of you and you relish the feeling of something like a giant weighted blanked settling over your frame. Utterly spent, Max isn’t even able to form a coherent sentence for several moments, instead choosing to focus on the wild racing of your heart beneath his body. 

“Told you I missed you.” Max says, breath tickling the shell of your ear, eliciting a giggle from your swollen lips. 

You rake your hands through his hair for what feels like the fiftieth time that night, tugging gently as you comb through the blond locks. “I missed you too, mon coeur.” 

That’s what Max was too. Your entire heart. 

Tag List: @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Lucifer x Virgin Reader - Loving One Night Stand (NSFW/Slight Angst)

This one is long so it’s going under the cut!

@citrusbatsandhoneybees has some banger ideas, I’ll tell ya; based on our chats

Lucifer appears in your room one night unexpectedly and unprompted

He tells you that he knows who you are and tells you that can have him in whatever way you desire

But he also tells you that he can only stay for the night; he is only allowed to be on Earth for a short time every 100 years

Usually he passes on the opportunity, but when he learned about you, he couldn’t but seize this moment with you, although fleeting

“It’s been a loooooong time since I’ve spoken with humans. But there’s something about you…I just had to know more…”

“What…what should we do?”

“That would be up to you. We can sit and talk, watch a movie, anything you want! But from what I know, I’ll venture a guess and say you want something different…”

You swallowed hard. “I-I do, but…I hope you know I feel more for you than just…that. And I’ve never…”

You can feel yourself start to tear up

“Hey, hey, it’s alright! We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with! I’d never put you in the situation, I promise. And I know you mean what you say, I can tell.”

He grips your hands and smiles at you sweetly

All those nights you spent thinking about what you would do to this man, it drove you insane; but here he was, offering you exactly what you’ve yearned for all this time

“If we only have tonight…I want to make the most of it. I don’t want to be afraid anymore…”

“If that’s what you wish, then I’m yours. We’ll go at whatever pace you’re most comfortable with, alright? And if at any point it’s too much or you want to stop, promise me that you’ll tell me immediately.”

You nod before you lean in to kiss him for the first time

His lips are soft and desperate for more of you; he pulls away and chuckles softly

“I’ll admit, it’s…it’s been a while since I’ve kissed anyone like that. Let alone…n-never mind. Please, come back…”

He pulled in for another kiss, holding the back of your head ever so gently, his moans sending aches straight to your core.

You start to undress each other slowly and carefully before your nearly fully exposed in front of him as he hovers above you on the bed

"Fffuck...you...you're already so wet...I love that. No hon, don't be shy, I would never make fun of you. Never. It's adorable really. Are you ready? I'll start slow, just one finger to start, okay?”

He slowly inserts one finger inside of you, a small whimper escapes your throat

“That's it...that's a good girl...so cute...You make the most adorable sounds, dear. How do you feel? Are you still okay?”

“M-More, please…”

“O-Okay, I can do that..."

His fingers start thrusting in and out of you faster and faster before reaching for your aching clit

“Still with me? Good...now let me just rub riiigghhhttt here...there it is~ Oh love, the faces you're making, fuck...I can't get enough...you're doing so well~"

But it doesn’t take long before he’s pleading for more

“Sweetheart, I need...f-fuck...please, please can I taste you?”

“Y-Yes…”

“God, thank you...thank you so much! Promise I'll be gentle, just let me...m-mmmm mmmfffuuuckkk, ohmygod...darling y-you're absolutely divine...such a pretty pussy, love...so lovely, so beautiful...you're perfect...mmmmmm...mmhmmmh~"

With his expert tongue, it’s only a moment more before he has you cumming on his tongue

“You taste heavenly, my angel. I could stay between your thighs for the rest of my days and it wouldn’t be long enough.~”

In your lust fueled state, you decide to turn the tables

“Lucifer, I-I want to return the favor, if that’s okay…”

“What do you...oh...OH! Oh, no! You don't have to do that, hon! It's perfectly fine! You don't need to-

“But I want to…very much…”

“I...oh fuck me...love, I'm...it's fine, really! Oh, please don't look at me like that! That's cheating! Ughhhh, okay okay, fine, you win! You don't play fair.~”

You start slow, stroking his length carefully; his cock already leaking from your small touches alone

You decide to use your tongue to help clean him up

“Darling? W-What are you-OH FUCK ME…f-fuck, your tongue…HOLY F-FUCK! S-Slow down, hon! P-Please slow down…don’t hurt yourself…i-if you keep licking me like that, I’m g-gonna…fuckfuckfuck…”

“It’s okay, Lucifer, I want you to let go.~”

“F-Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me-GAAAHH SSHHHHIIIIIIT! Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby…gonna c-cum…your fault…a-all your fault…fuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK AAAAAHHH!”

Lucifer cums hard in your mouth, one hand gripping the bed sheets, the other tangled in your hair

You swallow his load happily without hesitation, giving him a satisfying hum

“That…that was amazing. You’re amazing! Thank you for that! I…geez, just incredible…”

He pulls you up to his face for a tender kiss before pulling you back onto the bed with him

”Do you…want to keep going? I’m more than happy if you’re not comfortable going any further.”

“Yes, I want to…fuck, please! I need you!”

“Okay…okayokayokay…f-fuck. We…we’ll go extremely slow, alright? If you’re in pain, if you want to stop at any point, please tell me immediately. You’re absolutely sure? Okay…then lay down for me, darling~”

You do as he says as he slots himself between your legs

“Deep breaths love, this…this might hurt a little bit. I’m going to everything I can to make it as painless as possible. You have to tell me if it’s too much, do you promise? Okay…I’m going to push in now, just a little bit…HNNGG…gghhh…fuck…Are you alright? I-Is is too much? Let me know when I can keep going…”

“I’m alright Luci, please keep going…”

“O-Okay, I’m going to push in a little more…O-Oh my God…love, you feel…so fucking good…you’re taking m-me so well.”

His hips start to thrust into you, slowly at first but he starts to falter fast, the feeling of being inside you overwhelming him

He leans down to kiss you passionately, swallowing every sound he pulls out of you as he fucks you tenderly

“I’m…shhhhiiiittt…I’m not gonna last much longer…I’m gonna…f-fuck…I can’t…”

“It’s okay, L-Lucifer, it’s okay, cum in me…I want you to f-fill me. Please Lucifer…”

With your permission, he cums with a loud cry, painting your walls white with his load

His orgasm triggers your own as you pulse around him, feeling utterly and completely full

He crashes on top of you, his breathing heavy and labored

“Thank you, love…thank you…”

You can feel more tears starting to form in your eyes

“Lucifer…”

“Shh, it’ll be alright, I promise. If I could stay, I would, please believe me.”

“I love you…”

He plants a tender kiss to your forehead as he wipes your tears away

“I love you too. Come here.”

He wraps his arms around you tightly, his wings appearing and spreading across you, covering you completely

“Rest now, love.”

It didn’t take too much longer for your eyes to grow heavy as he held you against his chest

It was the best night of sleep you ever had

You awoke late the next morning in a daze, wondering if last night was nothing more than a dream

Before you got out of bed, you noticed a small folded piece of paper laying on the pillow next to you

You picked it up and began to read the note

“Thank you for a wonderful night. It will be one I will never forget for as long as I live. If fate is kind, perhaps we will meet again in the next life. But I fear Hell will not be your final destination. I love you, for all time. Yours, Lucifer Morningstar”

You didn’t leave bed that day; you sobbed, praying that the next time you woke up, it would be next to him

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: nightmares, awko moments, kissing?

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6!!!!! -part 7

-------------

The next morning when John woke up it was as if his life had changed filters, like if he went from dramatic cool to dramatic warm. There was a small pep in his step as he got out of bed. You were usually always asleep before 9AM so he decided he’d go buy the two of you breakfast from this small cafe you like not too far down the road, he knew when he was younger there was nothing like a good breakfast after a night of drinking.

On the other hand when you woke up you thought you’d dreamt it, the kiss couldn’t have been real. You’d never be that bold. But the nervous jitter in your belly at the thought of leaving your room was telling you all you needed to know. Along with the smile that’s been plastered on your face since the sound of your rattling windows from the heavy breeze woke you up.

Thankfully no hangover so therefore life’s great. You did desperately want to shower though after waking up in the same clothes you went out in. Which also meant it was going to have to be laundry day.

When he got back he picked up on the sound of your shower running and the steam that escaped beneath the door. He set the food in the kitchen unpacking what was his and yours, placing it in your usual seats at the table.

After a long shower filled with music and wasted water you dressed into comfortable home clothes, basically pajamas. Gathering the sheets and blankets from your

bed in a bear hug you begin to make your way to the laundry room, when you get there you drop everything on the floor with a huff.

“Doll?” John says from down the hallway as the sound of his footsteps grow closer

“Hey, goodmorning.” Shit shit shit.

“Morning, I got breakfast if you’re hungry.” He notices the way you slightly stiffen and how you don’t look back to greet him.

“Yeah actually, Thankyou.” Back to your shy nature he presumes, except he’s seemingly stepped out of his. There’s nothing John Price loves more than being on the same page as someone and if he’s assured of anything it is that you feel the same way he does.

“Okay, it’s on the table. I’ll eat when you do.” He says, walking away.

You let out a sigh of relief when he left, smiling to yourself at the girlish feelings so alive in you. When you finally made it to the kitchen you saw his silhouette outside. Even in the harsh weather he stood with a beanie and jacket on, lit cigar between his lips.

You give two knocks on the kitchen window catching his attention. When he notices you he snuffs the cigar into the small ashtray you bought for him and heads inside.

“You’re crazy for standing out there.” You say softly as you notice the effort it takes him to slide the door shut.

“I’ve done crazier.” He remarks.

You sit on the table as he does the same. You get that familiar warm feeling in your cheeks when you realize he got your exact order. Maybe it’s from the million times you’ve phone ordered it, regardless it’s sweet.

“So.” You say trying to see if he’ll be the one to bring it up.

“So?” He says with a smirk taking a sip of his coffee.

“So, I kissed you last night.” You have to talk about it, you could never be the one to just let it be.

“Did you?” He smirks.

“I did, and I want to know if that was okay with you or if I misread the room.” He laughs a little wondering if maybe he’s too subtle.

“No misreading was done love, next time I’d just appreciate a proper one.” The blush on your face gives him even more confidence.

“Well for your information I intended on giving you an actual kiss but my coordination had been slightly off.” You laugh as you say it cause although it’s embarrassing it’s very true.

“Well doll, there’ll be more opportunities I’m sure of it.”

“Oh Okay.” Lord save you.

“Besides your rendezvous, I wanted to know if I could have some pals over tomorrow. We have some work to do and I’m not quite keen on going to base.”

“Of course.”

—————

That night you decide to cook dinner, it’s only fair since he bought breakfast. You both agreed on pasta since you have all the ingredients for it. Although you told John you could cook alone he insisted he’d help as it’s the nice thing to do but truthfully he just wanted to be around you.

“So you grew up not too far from here?” He asks as you dice garlic.

“Yeah about an hour away.” You have your hair pulled back and are constantly moving the stray pieces from your face.

“Do you ever visit home?”

“Hah absolutely not, stay as far away from it as possible.” He doesn’t question it further but doesn’t miss the tone in your voice when you speak of it.

“I hear you talk to your sister a lot, are you close?” He loves hearing you talk, loves getting to know you even more.

“Yeah, she’s my best friend.” You smile, reminding yourself to call her and update her on these past two days.

“What about you, any siblings?” You ask looking over to him seeing that he’s done chopping the tomatoes and now just leans against the counter.

“No, only child.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed. You're very selfless.” It’s nice to hear from you. You’re the only thing he can imagine being selfish about.

“Years of being in the military will do that to you.”

He takes the pasta off the burner and drains it through the strainer. When he puts the empty pot back onto the burner you begin on the sauce.

“Will the same people I met when you first moved in be the ones coming?”

“Yeah.” He says while setting placemats and cutlery on the table.

You’re content in the low hum of radio music that fills in the silence amongst you two. He still stands near you but no words are being said. He watches the way you precisely add different ingredients one by one. When you're done you serve onto the plates for both of you.

“Thank You doll.”

“It was a team effort so thankyou.” You offer him a small smile before you both begin to eat. Conversation flows nicely between bites. He makes you laugh over dumb stories from his time in the military and you tell him embarrassing stories that happened in middle school. He feels normal, like a human when he’s around you. Like his hands are clean of all the violence he’s committed in his life.

When dinner is over you tackle the dishes together, you wash, he dries and puts away till there’s no more.

“Well I’ll see you Tomorrow then.” You say washing your hands and drying them on the kitchen towel.

“Goodnight love.” Before you can get the chance to turn down the hall to your room he’s calling out to you.

“Yeah?” He makes his way towards you and it’s slightly intimidating till he reaches you, positioning a gentle and slightly rough hand on your cheek before placing a long proper kiss to your lips. It’s electric now that you’re fully sober. Warm yet slightly needy. He pulls away and places one more on the corner of your lips like you had his.

“That’s a proper kiss doll.” He jests.

“I can definitely tell the difference.” He laughs a little, swiping a stray hair behind your ear.

“Sleep well.” He adds before heading back down the hall.

—————-

“And we kissed again last night too.” You talk into the phone while kicking your feet under the covers as you still lay in bed awake earlier than usual.

“You didn’t.” She couldn’t be happier for you. You worried her sometimes, she knew you never were outwardly going to look for someone new and since she lived so far away she couldn’t just check up on you when she wanted so she smiles widely as you tell her about your escapades.

“We did, I really like him, you know.” You really really do.

“I’m so happy for you.” She laughs but before you can respond there’s a knock at your door.

“Hold on, come in.” You slightly yell out. John opens the door taking notice of the phone by your ear.

“Sorry doll, I wanted to come tell you that my mates will be here soon, just a heads up.” You smile, giving him a thumbs up with your free hand.

If life loved John as much as he wished he’d be lying next to you by now. Instead he smiles at you with a wink and closes the door.

“That was him, did you hear him?” You laugh.

“If the voice matches the man, my sister you are lucky, not as lucky as him though, don’t forget that.”

You talk for a while longer before letting her get back to her busy life. When you get out of bed you hear deep voices enter your home traveling to where you assume would be John’s office.

You change into a simple outfit, certainly nothing extravagant, but also not pajamas. On your way to the kitchen you turn the heater on so it can warm up before it gets colder outside. You search the fridge wondering what to eat for breakfast and decide on eggs and toast.

—

“Captain, do you have a water bottle I can grab?” Gaz asks, they’re doing a lot of talking and debriefing on their last mission filing the paperwork they’ve all avoided.

“Em yeah in the fridge on the door.” The captain dismisses him trying to type in certain coordinates.

“Grab us one too.” The two other men say as Gaz gets up and leaves. When he makes it to the kitchen he notices you but doesn’t know what to say.

“Hello ma’am.” That’s all he could come up with.

“Jesus good god, hello gaz.” You jump in surprise at the unfamiliar yet not complete stranger.

“Sorry sorry.” You wave him off as he apologizes.

“I think I get startled too easily.” You laugh and he smiles.

“Just came to grab water.” He says motioning forward to your fridge.

“Yeah no problem.”

“You have a stunning kitchen by the way, really like the white cabinets.” He compliments.

“Really, when my ex and I got the house I had the old ones which were a grayish color removed and put these ones in, he hated it.” You laugh at the memory.

“A man with no taste. These are lovely and this lighting, it’s really beautiful.” You thank him again and go into mindless conversation about other remodeling projects you had done, he had questions after everything you said and lost track of time.

—

“Gaz, where were you when the explosion happened?” Price questions and looks up after a minute when there’s no response.

“He hasn’t come back yet, captain.” Soap says with a small grin. “I think he’s chatting it up with the lass out there.”

Their captain gets out of his chair. Silently leaving the room to go see what his sergeant is up to. As he approaches the kitchen he hears you laughing and relaxes his tense features before walking into the kitchen.

“So these used to be granite tiles till I changed them to white ones.” You say pointing at the backsplash above the counter.

“You could be an interior designer.” Gaz remarks and you smile.

“Sergeant, where should you be?” John uses the voice of a captain, one you're not very familiar with.

Both of you turn to look at him and you start to defend him.

“Sorry John, I kept him here, that’s my fault.” You say looking at him apologetically. He wants to tell you to stop making those eyes at him because they make him soft, too soft.

“Sergeant back to work.” He says as gaz bids you a smile and mouths Thank You, he quietly passes John to get back to his office.

“Is that your scary man voice?” You ask him with a small smirk.

“It can be a lot scarier.”

“I like it.” He’s weak for you, physically and emotionally this man craves you in ways that are impossible to comprehend.

“Careful.” Is all he says before walking away. He leans against the wall by his office out of view from anyone quickly adjusting his pants like a boy in puberty before getting back to work.

——

By the time they're done it’s nearly midnight. You're laying on the couch watching a movie when you hear the heavy footsteps of the men reach the kitchen and John’s in particular make their way to you.

“You’re still up?” He asks, looming over the back of the couch.

“Can’t sleep.”

“The winds are heavy and it’s a little late. I was wondering if they could stay the night? They’ll sleep in my room. If not doll please don’t be hesitant to let me know.” He asks quietly.

“Yeah that’s fine, where will you sleep?” You smile softly at him and his tired eyes.

“Out here.” You nod letting him know it’s okay before he leaves for a second to tell them. They all Thank You as you get up to grab extra blankets from your closet.

You bring them to John’s rooms seeing them all figuring out where and how they’re going to sleep. You ask John if you could talk to him real quick in the hallway and he quickly excuses himself.

“John, those men are too grown to sleep on the floor and to share a bed.” You quietly exclaim.

“Doll, I can assure you they’ve slept worse.”

“Men, you don’t see the issue. They’re not at work though this is their time to get good sleep.”

“Well I don’t have much more to offer.”

“One of them can sleep in my room, one on the air mattress and one of them can sleep on your bed.” He looks at you slightly confused.

“Where will you sleep?”

“With whoever sleeps in my bed.” He looks at you like you're crazy and is about to very loudly protest. “I'm kidding, we can share the couch I only need like one cushion to sleep on.” It’s true you sleep like a Rollie Pollie.

“Fine.” He doesn’t object to the idea at all which you're slightly surprised about and walks back into his room to tell them. Gaz is the one that gets sent out to you and you take him to your room.

“Here’s the remote, I’m sorry about all the pillows but the sheets are clean and the bathroom is right across the hall.” You smile at him and he thanks you for saving him from the hardwood floors. You laugh and take your favorite pillow, you say your goodnight and head to the living room.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” John says as you walk to the opposite side of the couch.

“I know.” You say settling into your usual spot. John throws one of the blankets you gave to him for the boys over you. At this point you're so tired you lay on your side letting whatever action movie John put on lull you to sleep.

You wake up suddenly sometime during the night the tv now off making it hard to see. You hear John murmuring things in his sleep getting louder by the second. You sit up tapping his arm to wake him and realize how warm he is. You reach to turn on the lamp beside the couch so you could actually see. Sweat begins to form on his brow line as his hands shake at his sides.

“John.” You whisper quietly, shaking his arm. He doesn’t wake so you do it again a little rougher. Still nothing.

“John.” You said a bit louder, finally waking him. His wide eyes look around as his left hand reaches to grip the hand you had on his arm.

“Doll?” He says squinting his eyes at you while trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah I’m here.” He continues to breathe roughly as you sit there. The way he refuses to meet your eyes makes you want to cry. He looks distressed and worn down.

“Bad dream.” He whispers gruffly.

You don’t need words to comfort him. You slide down the couch to lay opposite of how you had been before and place your head on his chest. He lifts his arm from beneath you and drapes it over your mid back. You listen intently to the rapid beat of his heart waiting for it to slow. After a while it does as his breath evens out. After a bit you drift back into sleep.

----------

thankyou for reading <3

comments and reposts are always appreciated.

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[ddejavvu]

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 4/FINAL PART) / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 4.1K / navigation / inbox

A/N: the real last part! i sincerely hope you enjoyed this series, it's very dear to my heart and so is all of the wonderful feedback you've given me on it. I love hearing what you think, it keeps me motivated to write more for you and I'm just so happy that I got to share this with you all. Thank you to anyone who's enjoyed this, I'm privileged to have shared your time and gotten your love in return. <333

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You feel like he’s gutted you. Like he’s plunged the hand holding the ring right into your stomach, twisted it so that the gem inside slits your insides into ribbons, and wrenched it back out dripping and glistening in crimson.

He looks so hopeful, eyes earnest and shining as he stares at you, that damn ring held between you like a life preserve. Like if you let him toss it over your finger, reel you in with his tender heartstrings, you wouldn’t drown. You’d escape the dreadful ocean of grief that’s been slowly filling your lungs since you’d left, you’d give your tired legs a break from treading water if you could just say yes. The word is on the tip of your tongue, and your achy heart begs you to say it, but you can’t.

Not when he doesn’t know.

“Bradley,” You whimper, reaching out to lay a gentle touch over his hand. You wrap your hand around both his own and the ring, squeezing tightly, “I have to tell you something.”

Bradley’s enthusiasm wanes. He hadn’t waited long enough. You’re not in love with him yet; he rushed into things just like he had before and he’d ruined it. How did he manage to ruin it two times? The best thing in his life, and he’s fucked it up twice in a row now. 

You’re looking at him with eyes full of sadness, and he catches a flash of pity in them; just like he’d feared. His stomach sours and he balks, spooking like a startled horse.

“No, no. No, it’s okay, you’re- you’re not ready yet, sweetheart, that’s okay. We can wait,” He babbles, wrenching his hand out from your own and jamming the ring back into the drawer, like if he can just get it into a safe zone, it’ll hit undo on the entire fiasco.

“No, baby,” Your face screws up, a barely-withheld sob behind your frown, “Baby that’s not- we really need to talk. Okay? I promised we would today.”

“I- I know, but-” He stammers, trying to evade your gentle touch as you pry his hand back from his dresser drawer, the ring still clutched inside and lining his palm with a layer of sweat.

“Let me talk,” You plead, “Brad, I need to come clean. Please?”

He’s sure you can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows what little saliva there is in his mouth, “Okay.”

“Two weeks ago,” You start, and the words feel leaden on your tongue; impossibly heavy. “-before your crash. You- you remember Javy’s crash, yeah?”

“Yeah,” His breath catches in his throat, visions of his teammate's poor girlfriend swimming in his mind. Visions of the woman he never wanted you to have to be.

“That really-” You choke on a sob, “That really freaked me out, Bradley. I realized that you could go down like that. I- I���ve always known, y’know, ‘cause of your dad. But I just- I was so young when that happened, and it wasn’t fresh, so when Javy went down… I had this revelation. That I could-” Your voice tampers down into a weak whimper, “I could lose you, Brad. I could say goodbye to you one morning and not get to say hello again in the evening. I just- lost it,” You admit, brushing away stray hair from over your red-rimmed eyes, “I’m sure you noticed I wasn’t the most pleasant to say goodbye to in the mornings. But- but baby, I was always so happy when you came home, because it meant I had more time. It felt like some awful time bomb,” You recall, “Like every time I said goodbye to you would be the last, and I couldn’t rest until you were back home. I’ve never felt like that before, I’ve always had confidence in your abilities. Even on deployment, I know you’re working with people who have your back,” You sniffle, “I’ve always known you could die, but it’s never felt that much like you would before. But then- Javy wasn’t the one who crashed,” You explain, voice thick with blubbering tears, “I mean- that was just his jet malfunctioning. And then all of a sudden I- it was like I remembered that I could lose you in some freak accident. Like it wouldn’t have to be your fault, it could just happen, and you could die. Like your dad, Bradley, I- I didn't wanna lose you like we almost lost your dad."

“That is,” You collect yourself, swallowing a heavy sob that leaves your throat achy and gutted, “My nightmare, baby.” You tangle your fingers with his where you’re still clutching his hand, squeezing tight enough to probably bruise the guy, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. I would die if I lost you, Brad. Even if I was alive, I’d be dead inside. I need you, I need you in my life, Bradley.”

What you’re saying sounds good to him. Terrible, of course, if he didn’t come home one day. But he is home, and you’re telling him you need him, and he can’t figure out why in the world you’ve said no twice to putting on the ring. 

“You have me,” He vows, squeezing your hand right back, “Honey, you have me right here, right now. Why won’t you let me keep you?” He presses the ring into your palm, and you both feel the metal band burning your skin like it’s been superheated.

“You asked me to marry you before you crashed,” You blurt, and even though slamming a wrecking ball into your reverie of late feels like stabbing yourself in the chest, there’s something gratifying about telling the truth. About finally coming clean, about telling him exactly why you can’t say yes.

“You sat me down, and you gave me the sweetest speech in the world,” You recall with tears thick in your voice, “About how you loved me, and how you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, and- and you proposed, and I said no.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, analyzing the grief in your voice. You sound anguished, like you’re upset with yourself for saying no, but you didn’t say yes this time around, so he can’t believe what he hears.

He takes a deep breath, cutting off whatever you’re going to say next, “I know.”

It feels good for him to come clean, too. Even if he's dreading what'll happen, even if he thinks there's a good chance you'll march out the door, he's glad to be done with the lies. He'd loved them while they'd lasted, but they went down in flames just like his jet.

“-and-” You stop, blinking twice, “What?”

“I know,” He admits, “I- I remember, honey.”

“You- what?” Your eyes widen, and you lean forwards, gazing imploringly at Bradley, “Brad, you- you remember? You remember everything now?”

“Yeah,” He nods, watching as you process the information.

You feel sick. You’re not sure why, because you’ve already told him the truth. But memories are different than retellings, and you both know that. No explanation on your part would have conveyed the crushed, betrayed look in his eyes when you’d declined his proposal; there’s not words in the english language suitable to describe how desperately he’d pleaded for you to stay, even in just the simplest of touches to your waist, trying to pull you back to him that night.

Now he remembers that, now you’re on the same page, and when you turn it, you’re not sure what you’ll see. 

The end of a chapter? The beginning of a new one? Or the blank back cover of a book, perhaps, if your luck has run dry. 

“When did your memories come back?” You ask, your voice sounding faraway and dazed in the back of your mind. You’re not even sure you’ve really said it, you’re too wrapped up in worrying about what he’s thinking. If your confession had spurred on his memories, you’re not sure you’ll ever get a chance to put on that ring.

Bradley swallows what little saliva is in his mouth, “A while ago.”

“How long?” Your brows furrow impossibly deeper, your brain running circles trying to figure out what’s real and what isn’t, “Like- like since this morning?”

“Since I woke up,” He confesses with a heavy heart, because lying to you hurt even if he’d loved the outcome,  “In the hospital. I- I didn’t remember at first, but they came back, uh, in a few minutes.”

You feel like you’ve walked into a cloud of smoke. Everything around you is foggy, and your brain can’t process what he’s told you. It feels like he’s lying to you, like he’s tricking you and pretending that he’s known the entire time just so as not to feel foolish. But that’s not Bradley, he doesn’t need to be smarter than you, or faster than you, or better than you, so you know he’s telling the truth.

“But- why did you lie?” You stare at him with tears glimmering in your waterline, and he’s sure this is what he looked like when he’d asked you not to go that night. Betrayed, confused, heartbroken.

“Because you did,” Bradley whimpers, wanting nothing more than to swipe a thumb under your eye and gather the tears there on his skin, taking the burden away from you.

“You came in and you asked to kiss me, and- and I wanted you to. I didn’t want to talk about what had happened, because I didn’t want you to walk out again, so I just- I lied. And I let you lie to me, too.”

You think back, and you remember how you’d walked back into the hospital room, on the verge of tears with nerves rolling in your belly. And you’d asked to kiss him, you’d given him the perfect opportunity to lie, and he’d taken it. And you can’t be mad at him, because you’d lied, too. You’re slightly hurt. It doesn’t feel good knowing that your lover- or, ex-lover lied to you. It feels even worse to know that Bradley lied because he thought you’d leave him if he told the truth. Like you’d turn tail and run, whooping through the parking lot about being free at last. But you’re the one that put that thought in his head; you’re the one that ran away. So you can’t blame him for keeping you on a short leash.

You feel too many things at once. You feel like a monster, like a cruel heartbreaker that had shattered Bradley’s to pieces. You feel confused, because you’re still processing that the past few days were entirely fake on both ends. You feel slightly betrayed, like you wish Bradley would have just told you. But you didn’t tell him either, and that makes you feel like an asshole. Too many feelings are bottled up inside, and they gush forth in a messy round of tears, one worse than Bradley’s ever seen from you.

It sets him in a panic, and he’d already been misty-eyed before. Now his own tears roll in fat droplets down his cheeks as he muscles down his sobs for your sake, dropping your hand only to take up your waist. He drags you closer on the bed, but it’s uncoordinated and a struggle as your limbs don’t cooperate. You’re limp like a ragdoll, and once he finally has you positioned in his lap he buries his face in your shoulder to soak his tears into your shirt.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, his chest heaving and shaking with sobs, “I’m sorry I lied. I shouldn’t have, I- I know it was wrong. I just- I wanted you to stay, honey. And I thought it would be okay if we were both lying, because then I could make you fall in love with me again, and- and it was a stupid plan, I’m sorry. I should have told you, I’m sorry, I- I never wanted to make you cry. I’m sorry, honey, please don’t- please don’t cry. I love you, please, don’t cry.”

He thinks he’s allergic to your tears. His chest hurts, his face burns, and the front of his shirt is slowly sticking to his chest where you’re crying against it. He’s not sure he can handle much more of this, he can barely breathe and if you don’t stop crying soon, his lungs might collapse. He doesn’t like that you’re crying; even though he knows its a messy situation, even though he knows it’s complicated beyond belief, he’s worried that lying to you fractured your trust in him, and that won’t look good on his permanent record, especially not when he’s waiting on a yes or no from you regarding marriage.

“Honey, please,” He knows he’s not the only one at fault, he knows you’re just as guilty for lying as he is, but you’d done it out of pity, and he’d done it out of greed. You’d played pretend with him so that he didn’t lay alone in a hospital bed, but he’d lied to you so that you wouldn’t leave. He’s kept you trapped, and he’s worried you’ll break free from the cage and run.

“I’m sorry,” He cries, clutching tighter at you when you try pulling away, scared you’re on your way out, “No, honey, please, I’m so sorry-”

“Stop apologizing!’ You beg, a raw quality to your throat that bleeds into your voice. You can’t take it anymore, you can’t let him blubber out sorry after sorry for something he’s not at fault for. You wish he’d been honest, sure, but you couldn’t possibly blame him for continuing the game that you started playing.

“Just- stop, please,” You breathe, quieter now this time. “I- You’re not the one that has to be sorry.”

“But I am,” Bradley gushes, clinging tight to you, still nervous you’re trying to leave. But you’re stationed to stay in his lap, smearing away tears with the skin of your wrists.

“Well don’t be.” You huff, frustration swirling in your chest, all self-directed, “Don’t- don’t apologize for my mistakes! Bradley,” You whimper, rubbing at your eyes hard enough to see swirls beyond your vision, “I left you. I rejected your proposal, and I left you, and then when you almost died, and forgot I left you, I lied to your face. You had amnesia, Bradley, and I lied to you, in what world should you be apologizing? You should hate me,” You decide, stomach churning at just the thought, “I’m so sorry, Bradley, I- I’m so sorry! You should be throwing me out, you should kick me to the curb, and-”

“I don’t hate you.” He says, his voice gruff. He says it plain and simple, like it’s easy. Like there’s no hard feelings, like he’s not perturbed at all by your dishonesty, your betrayal.

“I love you,” He continues, and oh, does that drive the nail into the coffin you’re trapped in, “I love you so much, honey, I just don’t understand you. Why did you leave?”

“I was so scared,” You’re getting tired of saying it, but you know you have to, “Javy crashed, and I realized you could, too. Brad, I’m so sorry, I was so selfish, I didn’t wanna go through that. I left you because I didn’t wanna get hurt. I- I left to save myself from mourning your loss. But it didn’t work, and- and you still crashed, and I still almost had to mourn your loss, and it still hurt, so- so bad, Bradley. It hurt so bad,” You blubber, and he pulls you back into his chest.

“I know,” He murmurs, and you can’t fathom why he’s still comforting you, why his large, calloused hand is rubbing sweet, soft, soothing circles over your back like you’re not a traitor, “I know, honey, I can’t imagine. I’m sorry you had to get that call.”

“Come on,” You plead, your fists clenched in Bradley’s shirt, nails digging into the fabric, “Bradley, this- this isn’t fair. You should be mad at me. Even if you-” You can barely say it, the thought sounding like a fantasy; too good to be true, “Even if you love me, you should be upset. That I left, that I- that I lied, you can’t do this. You can’t comfort me, and you can’t apologize.”

“I can, too.” He argues, his brows furrowed and his mustache turned down with his frown, “Sweetheart, I know you’re sorry about all those things, you told me yourself. I know you’re sorry you left, I know you’re sorry you lied, it’s okay. It hurt when you left, but I never hated you. I wanted you back,” He admits with a shaky voice, “I wanted to fix things. And when you asked to kiss me in the hospital, I chose to let you lie to me even though I knew the truth. I liked it, baby, I loved it, because I had you back. You’re sorry, and- and I’m sorry, and we’re both sorry, so let’s do something about it. Let’s fix it, baby, please.”

“I want to fix it,” You sob, “I really do, Bradley. I- I wanted to pretend forever,” You confess, “Because it felt like it did before I left, and- you have no idea how much I wanted that back, Brad.”

“Me too,” He agrees with a rough sniffle, “I- I wanted you to pretend forever, honey. I really did, I- that’s why I proposed again,” He cringes at the memory, at the second time he’d asked to no avail, “Because I just wanted you to keep pretending, and say yes, and I thought- I thought I might be able to make you love me again, so I went for it, but I shouldn’t have. I should- I should’ve talked to you first, I should have told you the truth, but I just- I was scared, and-”

“Oh, Bradley,” You gush, grabbing the back of his neck and tugging him down into a hug. You might be smothering him, you’re not sure if he can breathe where he’s buried in your shoulder, but he doesn’t care. He’s clutching you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t, and you’re horrified that he might really think that, but you understand why he does.

“Marry me,” He begs, “Please, honey, marry me. I’m not mad at you, I love you, please, just- just marry me, please. I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me,” You promise, tears flowing steady down your cheeks, “Honey, I promise, I won’t walk out unless you want me to.”

“I don’t,” Bradley shakes his head, his arms encircling your waist even tighter now, “I don’t want that, honey, please- please don’t.”

“I won't,” You promise, “But Brad- do you want to marry me for love, or because you’re afraid I’ll leave if you don’t?”

“I love you,” He croaks into your shoulder, and you know he’s not lying to you now, “I mean- I mean of course I’m scared to lose you. But I’m scared because I love you, and I still wanted to marry you even before this happened, before I was scared. I’m not trying to tie you down so you can’t leave, I’m trying to love you forever. It’s love, honey, I love you.”

“I love you too,” You wail, unperturbed by your messy, tear-stained, snot-streaked faces as Bradley lifts his head out of your shoulder to kiss you. It’s desperate, sloppy, and uncoordinated, but it’s the first real kiss you’ve shared in a long time, and you wouldn’t change a thing about it if you could. It’s all desperate, grabby hands and quivering breaths as you familiarize yourselves with each other again, remember what it’s like to be honestly, truly in love with each other. You’ve thrown the lies away like a hardened cast, and the bones beneath it have mended, still tender but whole again. You can’t get enough of him, you can’t take your hands out of his hair and you can’t press your chest up against his enough. He feels the same, he can’t possibly tug your hips further against his own, and he can’t dig his nose any further into your cheek or he might poke a hole there. But he wants to, so he tries.

You’re ravenous, not with desire but with love, the purest and sweetest form of it. You’re so glad to have him back, to really have him back, that you can’t care about your leg falling asleep where it’s bent awkwardly against his lap, or the stickiness of his tears on your cheeks. All you care about is Bradley, all you know is Bradley, all you ever want to know is Bradley.

He reaches for your hand while still engaged in the kiss, and you swear you feel your heart crack when you pull yourself away to stop him in his tracks.

“Wait,” You pant, wondering why he’s doing the same when he’d practically stolen the air from your lungs, “You’re absolutely sure you want to marry me? Even though-”

“Jesus,” Bradley huffs, keeping the ring in one hand and reaching for your face in the other. He squishes your cheeks together, until your lips are puckered and he can brace his forehead against your own, eyes wide and grin exasperated, “Yes! Yes, I really want to marry you, even though you left, even though you lied. I lied, too, honey. You left because you were scared, and that’s why I lied. I get it, okay? I’m not gonna turn on you, I love you. I want to marry you.”

“But- but we should work through this,” You propose, pointedly not swatting him away when he poises the ring over your marriage finger.

“Okay. We can work through it in marriage counseling,” He promises with a breathless smile, the expression wholly genuine because for the first time in three weeks, he’s confident you’ll say yes, “Because I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?”

You’re not fucking this up a third time.

“Yes!” You gush, and you squeal when he jams the ring onto your finger, moving in for a kiss far more eagerly than you’re prepared for. It’s like being greeted by an overexcited puppy, one that’s a bit too big to be ramming into you, but that you can’t tell no. He kisses you voraciously, joining your hands together so that the metal band on your ring finger rubs against his own skin.

“I love you,” You pant, in a rare moment of being able to drag oxygen into your lungs, “And- I’m sorry. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Bradley swears, kissing you again before you can murmur any more apologies, “It’s okay. We’ll be okay, baby. We’ll work through it. You were scared, so I’ll help you however I can so that you’re not so scared. And I was scared, so I’ll probably be a bit of a clinger for a while. That’s it, baby, we don’t have to break up.” He promises, “That’s all it is, honey. We can work through it. We love each other, we can do this.”

“We do love each other,” Saying it feels like a blessing you’re casting over yourselves, an affirmation that you want to say in the mirror ten times before starting your day, “I love you, Bradley.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” He hums, dissuaded very little when you turn your head to look for your phone. He presses the same frequency of kisses to your cheek as he had your lips, and you let him smooch away at your face while you hunt for the device.

“Here!” You find it tangled in the bedsheets, “Brad, let’s tell everyone.”

“Hm?” He glances sideways at your phone, “Oh. Yeah, my parents are probably worried.”

“My dad, too.” You hum, “I told him at the store earlier.”

“I told my parents then, too.” He confesses, “But- but they’re not mad at you, or anything honey, they understand.”

You marvel at the revelation, that that's the reason Carole had been so confident bidding you goodbye.

“I.. told your mom already,” You realize you still haven’t put all of his puzzle pieces together for him, “Uh, she knew before you woke up, actually. She was the one to suggest that I pretend nothing happened. She didn’t want you to be too stressed in the hospital.”

His brow furrows where he’s in the middle of kissing your jaw, and he pulls back to evaluate the new information. But he’s not angry, more exhausted. He chuckles weakly, “I told her today, she pretended she had no idea. Damn, that woman is a good actor.”

“Very good,” You agree, snatching Bradley’s hand out of his lap to curl your own over the back of it. Your hands are stacked palm-to-back, with Bradley’s resting on the blanket and yours overtop. Your ring glistens in the afternoon sunlight and snapping a picture of it is one of the most gratifying things in the world, second only to the feeling of it laying permanently on your finger. You’ll have to put this one in the photo album, the beginning of a new chapter.

Bradley doesn’t let go of your hand after you snap the picture, only flips his own beneath it so that he can hold it more securely. He puts his chin over your shoulder to kiss your cheek as you use your only free hand to type out a group text message to your family members. Bradley’s squadron will be next on the list, but for now, your family receives the shot of your hands intertwined, a ring glistening on yours.

I said yes this time.💗

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[daddyricsdoll]

hey! first, congrats on 1k followers! 🩵 “Let me take your innocence.” would be so coold with danny 🥺

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

I knew that loving him wasn’t how the end would go. Because I loved him from the second he shone his smile to me, with such dreamy brown eyes I could think of fresh trees and the bark they grew on.

But that love was the first one, the first step before it changed. I fell in love with him again, because of when he couldn’t smile and I got to hold him in my arms, when his eyes were glassy and I held his face. Littering it in endless kisses and “I love you’s”.

Making this night one of the strongest, yet I felt so vulnerable. Easy to his touch. My lips couldn’t leave his and as I straddled him to be closer, my hips would involuntarily rub against his. Daniel groaned into my mouth and he pulled away.

“I-I can’t-“

“I want to…” I watch the way his face changes, eyes softening and lips parting.

“What do you want?” He asks me, hands holding my hips.

“I-want you.” I try to subtly grind against him, keeping eye contact but letting him know exactly what I mean. His eyes ask me again for reassurance, and I nod. My trust for him exuded off of me and bled through each crack that hasn’t been filled.

Daniel pushes my body to the side, laying me on my back against the soft duvet. “Let me take your innocence.” He whispers into my ear, slowly crawling down my body and taking his time to peel each article of my clothing off. My short skirt and then my panties. Spreading my legs and letting the warm air from the room brush past my core.

“Daniel… I don’t want you to go soft. I want you to really take my innocence.”

“Fuck. But if anything… just tell me to stop.” He crawls off my body toward the side table. “I’m safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“Always.” He bites his lip at my answer. Not taking his time at all, nearly ripping the rest of my clothing off while he straddles my hips. “Fuck, you’re even better with nothing on.” Daniel leans down, sucking me into a ravenous kiss while he keeps himself up by holding the headboard.

We have to force our lips away from each other as Daniel gets off my body and takes his pants off, his shirt already discarded. I’ve always assumed his size as it presses against me with every bulge he gets. But once I actually laid eyes on it, I knew I deceived myself. Having to shut my legs as I knew I had to be dripping now.

“Oh, don’t do that.” Daniel gets back on the bed, opening my legs again and reaching for a pillow behind my head. Lifting my hips and placing it under my lower back. He holds each of my thighs and pulls my body closer to his. Aligning his dick to my entrance before finally pushing it in. Tears sting my eyes and I moan at the pain that only brings me pleasure. Both of his hands beside each side of my head, clenching the duvet in his fists.

I couldn’t help but grab one of his wrists, tugging it and wrapping it around my throat. Watching his lips curl and a moan ultimately escaping his heart shaped lips. Daniel squeezes my throat, and then pounds into me carelessly. Continuing again and again, even as I move my legs, lifting them and managing to get Daniel even deeper inside of me. My g-spot being a target, and Daniel always getting a bullseye. Such sounds I’d never think would come out of my mouth just fled it. Endlessly leaving my lips like a waterfall.

And just as I thought it was enough, Daniel latches his mouth around my nipple. Enveloping it with his lips and licking and sucking it like a starved man.

I felt every part of him as he rammed in and out, my whole body moving with his. The large vein that ran along his length felt like heaven inside of my core. And just thinking about how Daniel Ricciardo would ruin me with his dick in just one night.

His thumb flicked my clit up and down. A scream leaving my mouth, expressing a small fraction of the words I’d wished to have said.

Releasing around his dick and just as I squeezed my walls, Daniel twitched inside of me. Coming and being the first man to fill me up.

Just as I came down from my high I sighed, taking a deep breath. But just when I’d expect Daniel to pull out, he started thrusting in again repeatedly. His pelvis slamming against my ass as my legs were in the air. Daniel grabs my hands. Intertwining our fingers together as he lifts them to rest beside my head.

Each thrust felt like he was getting deeper and my stomach did more than a few backflips at his whole length splitting me.

My innocence had left the second I imagined him doing this to me. So now that it’s happening I can say Daniel beats every piece of imagination I’ve drenched myself in.

Only ever loving the unimaginable with him. Just like the way he rams the thought out of me. Filling me with his cock and nearly feeling it in my throat. His name leaves my lips an infinite amount of times I’d wish to be like this for eternity. Remembering each inch of him as it leaves them enters me all at once. Making my feeble legs quiver as I reach my climax again. Writhing my hips again and involuntarily helping Daniel release right after me just like the first time.

Tears dried on the side of my face, as the last few fell. My hands still tightly tangled with Daniel’s and his deep eyes melted me. Already weak physically, while his eyes made every other part of me weak that his dick couldn’t.

“You’re fucking pretty when you cry. Let me take your innocence again and I’ll make you wail.”

[ellastone-olsen]

MafiaBoss!Wanda Maximoff x f!security!reader.

Warnings: NSFW 18 + knife play, guns, murder, pet names, eating out, impact play, dark! Wanda, overstimulation, mommy kink

AN: oh my god, today is exactly one month since I’ve been publishing my works here, thank you everyone, I’m glad you like my works💗

Mafia boss Wanda who...must control absolutely everything. Even if she is under you, her orders guide you so that there is no doubt about who is in charge. “Such an obedient little pup, lick mommy clean.” She guides you. “Faster, insert your fingers, oh yes like that, make me cum and I’ll get you a reward.” She encourages you, holding your hair to guide your head and ride your face.

Mafia boss Wanda who...always keeps a gun near her, even if entire retinue of security is around. One day you allowed yourself the impudence to anger her, and she took a weapon from the inside pocket of her coat, fired a warning shot somewhere to the side, and then put the barrel under your chin. “Don’t make me angry, dumb pup, you know how easily I can pull the trigger and not blink an eye.” You knew that she could, but you also knew that she would never do this, not with you.

Mafia boss Wanda who...after a hard day, drags you by the collar of a snow-white shirt into her room and casually throws you on the bed. “Mommy had a terrible day so let me use you like the stupid fucktoy you are.” Of course you have no choice, but you don't mind helping a woman relieve stress. When her tongue overstimulates you and a whine escapes your mouth, her hands press you harder and a rough, “Be patient.” that's all you hear.

Mafia boss Wanda who...noticed how her other guards treat you because of your obvious closeness. And when one of these bastards decides to start a fight with you, she will simply take out that same gun and shoot him in the head. “If anyone else decides to commit lynching, he will go to hell for this piece of shit. Did everyone understand me!?” She does not tolerate people touching what belongs to her.

Mafia boss Wanda who...tells you to get on all fours and crawl to her feet so that she rests the stiletto heel on your shoulder leaving a mark of the sole on your shirt and orders you to use your mouth. Finally, you obediently kiss her legs until you reach the top of her black stockings, smelling her arousal through her matching black underwear. Looking up with your puppy dog ​​eyes, you get a nod from her and run your tongue over her clothed pussy, tasting her.

Mafia boss Wanda who...also does not neglect knives and always keeps a couple with her, for example, for murder or a little game with you. Perhaps she will leave a few scratches on your thighs while she eats you, perhaps the knife will painfully pass across your cheek and leave a deep scar as proof that she owns you. And when your tears gather in the corners of your eyes, she shows unusual tenderness and wipes them away with the pad of her thumb, whispering false words of reassurance.

[cozage]

Hello dear writer, can I request Shanks and other charas getting a new perfume for the reader because they think it smells nice and would suit their beloved so they'll spray a little on themself and when the reader smells it they would think that they were cheating on them

Characters: gn x Shanks, Sanji, Ace Cw: miscommunication Total word count: 2.5k

New Perfume

Shanks

You noticed it the moment he stepped on the ship. Perfume. A kind that didn’t belong to you. You had to admit, it smelled nice. And it certainly wasn’t cheap. Lavender used to be your favorite scent, but now all it was doing was making your stomach churn. 

Whoever Shanks smelled like certainly lived a high dollar life. You shouldn’t have been jealous; you knew that. You had no reason to be. You and Shanks had never talked about being exclusive. If you wanted him to be only yours, all you had to do was ask. But you hadn’t asked him. So he was allowed to do whatever he wanted with whoever he wanted. 

You wanted to ignore it. You wanted to act like it didn’t bother you in the slightest. But everytime the wind shifted and you got a whiff of that light lavender scent, your stomach knotted into a ball the size of your fist. You hated being jealous of someone who was already a distant memory to Shanks, someone who had already been left behind on the last island, but somehow that made it worse. 

You stared out at the island growing smaller behind you, trying to get your mind off of whoever the perfume belonged to when strong arms wrapped around you from behind, and the sickening smell of lavender flooded your nose. You couldn’t help but tense against him being so close. The smell of him and the lavender perfume went together so well. 

“You okay?” Your captain hummed in your ear. 

“Fine,” you responded, trying to act normal. 

“You sure?” He rested his chin on your shoulder, trying to get you to look at him. 

But you knew if you looked him in the eyes, he would see your pain. So you kept your eyes fixed on the horizon instead, trying to remain as casual as possible. 

“Something’s bothering you,” he observed. His fingers danced along your sides, causing you to flinch from his tickling. 

“Shanks,” was all you had time to breathe out before his fingers dug into your skin playfully, and you let out a fit of giggles. You tried to pull away from him, but he held you tight and didn’t let up. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he cooed to you, turning you around to face him. He stopped his tickling assault, but he wrapped his arms around you so you couldn’t escape. 

“It’s nothing,” you lied. Your eyes stayed downcast, trying to avoid his gaze. 

He hummed disapprovingly, frowning at your visage. “Well I’ve got something to cheer you up. Wanna see?”

You finally peeked up at him, curious about what he was going to offer you. He had that stupid grin plastered across his face, and your heart skipped a beat. Shanks could make you weak in the knees just from a look. You hated and loved it at the same time. 

“Come on.” He intertwined his hand with your and pulled you along, heading for the bunkhouses. 

After a few steps, you pulled your hand away, but kept walking next to him. Shanks shot you a worried look, but you pretended not to see it. You rubbed your wrist, trying to act normal, but Shanks knew something was wrong. You hated that you were being like this. It wasn’t fair to him, and you knew that. But you couldn’t help feeling hurt, even if you had no reason to be. 

He quickly opened the door to his quarters and stepped to the side to allow you to enter. You walked inside and looked around, trying to find any hints of another person being in his room. But everything was how you had left it this morning, and you breathed a slight sigh of relief. At least whatever had taken place hadn’t happened in his bed. There was some consolation in that. 

Shanks picked up a little brown bag and handed it out to you. “For you,” he said. 

You hesitantly took it, and opened it to peek inside. There was a beautiful glass bottle filled with purple liquid. Your heart sank. 

“Perfume?” you asked him. 

“Try it,” he urged. 

You already knew what it was going to smell like, but you opened the jar and lightly inhaled. It really was a lovely smell. 

“I thought I smelled this on you earlier.” You tried to keep any cynicism out of your voice, replacing it with inquisition. 

“Oh yeah!” Shanks said, holding out his arm to you. “I tried a bit earlier at the store to see how it smelled, and all I could think of was how good it would smell on you.”

You pressed your nose to his wrist, smelling the concentrated perfume in the area he indicated. He had been shopping for you. The perfume you smelled on him was yours, or at least that was his intention. There had never been another person. 

“You okay?” Shanks asked, looking at you with concern. 

“This is for me,” you clarified. “And you found it in a shop?”

“Yeah,” he said, a confused look on your face. “I thought you liked lavender. What’s going on?”

“No, I just-” you paused, blushing at the embarrassment you were about to cause yourself. “I love it. But I thought the smell…came from someone else.”

Shanks took a moment to process your words for a moment and then laughed.

“Oh darling, don’t you know?” He lightly kissed the tip of your nose, smiling against your skin. “You’re the only one for me.”

Sanji

“My love!!” Sanji called, the door slamming open behind you.

You turned from your desk to see him, a smile spreading across your face. You and Sanji usually parted ways during island days, and today hadn’t been an exception. But you had missed being around him, even if it was only for a few hours. 

“Sanji! You’re back!”

He set a bag on the table and bounded toward you, enveloping you in a big hug. That’s when you smelled it. The hint of vanilla wouldn’t have been so out of place if it hadn’t been paired with a strong lilac smell.

Your stomach sank. Sanji was a man who loved to admire everyone, but he tended to keep it under control since the two of you had started dating. You didn’t think he was one to cheat, but you had seen how Sanji got around women in the past. 

You could feel your body tensing in fear and anger. Jealousy coursed through your veins. Why else would he smell like such a strong, lovely perfume if not from someone else rubbing against him. 

“Sanji,” you started, trying to keep your voice level. “Why do you smell like lilac perfume?”

“Do you like it?” he asked, pulling away and grinning at you. 

You tried to keep the fury out of your eyes, but you knew it was futile. When he saw your expression, his face fell. Disappointment flooded his eyes, and a familiar pang hit you in the gut. 

“I can return it, if you want,” he offered. 

Your brow furrowed, staring at him. “Return it?”

He could sense you were angry, that was obvious enough. He scanned your face, trying to figure out what exactly he had done wrong. He had been certain this perfume would suit you well, but now he was worried you were offended at his implication.

“The perfume. I can return it if you don’t like it.”

“What perfume? The one that you’re smothered in right now?” You couldn’t keep the venom out of your voice this time, and Sanji flinched at the harshness of your words. 

He blinked at you, trying to comprehend where your sudden burst of anger had come from. He put his wrist to his nose and sniffed, lilac with a hint of vanilla. 

“Do you mean this?” He held his wrist out for you to smell, the lilac so strong it made you sick.

“I don’t want to smell whoever was all over you, Sanji!” you snapped, slapping away his hand. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“But the lady at the perfume shop said it was one of their best sellers.” His voice was thick when he spoke, and confusion was evident in his eyes. “I thought you would like it.”

The pain in his voice gave you a quick moment to analyze his words. The gift bag on the table. Perfume shop. I can return it if you don’t like it.

“The perfume is for me,” you dumbly stated.

“Of course,” Sanji said cautiously, watching you closely. “Who else would it be for, darling?”

You stared blankly at him, not sure how you had gotten it all so wrong. Why had you gone to the worst case scenario? Why had you expected Sanji to hurt you like that? Of course he never would do such a thing. He loved you, and you loved him. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, unable to find the words for anything else. 

He looked at you, his eyes full of concern. “Sorry for what, my love? Is everything okay?”

“I thought…” your eyes drifted over to the bag on the table. “I thought the smell was from someone else.”

Sanji’s curly brows creased, not understanding your implications. “Someone else?” he questioned. 

“I thought you were with someone else.” Your gaze moved back to his eyes, hoping he could see the regret in your expression. 

“Someone…else…” It took him a moment to understand your implication. His eyes widened in understanding. “No! No, I would never-”

“I know,” you cut him off. “I’m so sorry I thought for even a second that you would.”

Sanji pulled you into a hug again, holding you close to him. The smell of lilac and vanilla was much more comforting now. You noticed that it mixed wonderfully with his natural scent of clove and ginger. 

“I really like the perfume, by the way,” you mumbled into his chest. “It’s perfect.”

He squeezed you tighter in response, pleased that his shopping trip was a success. 

Ace

You and Ace had always been casual, but you had been unspokenly exclusive.  You bought gifts for each other and spent the days by his side and slept in the same bed. You were together in every sense except a spoken one. He was yours, and you were his. 

Everyone on the ship knew it, but island days were a different story. Bars and clubs came with strangers who were always curious about pirates, especially attractive ones. You got insanely jealous when he flirted with the locals, and he was protective whenever islanders tried to make a move on you. Normally you all stuck together to deter the unwanted attention, but Ace had asked to go off on his own today. 

When he sat next to you in the dining hall, you understood why. The smell of a sweet cherry medley came off his body, and your stomach churned. Ace wasn’t the kind of person to wear perfume, especially not something as sweet as that scent.

“Smells like you were busy today,” you noted, unable to keep the hint of hostility out of your voice. 

“Very.” He either ignored your tone or was oblivious to it. He grabbed his fork and dug into his food, practically inhaling it all before speaking again. “I wanna show you something later.”

“Not interested,” you grumbled. You rose from your seat next to him and stormed out the door, sulking back to your bedroom. 

Unfortunately, you shared a bedroom with Ace, and after a few minutes, he cracked open the door and peeked inside. 

“Can we talk?” he asked in his soft, tender voice. “Or do I need to leave you alone for a bit?”

You sighed and dropped the book you were reading back down on your bed. “We can talk.”

He quickly stepped inside the door and shut it, afraid that if he took too long you might change your mind. 

He sat next to you on the bed nervously, both of you glancing at each other. 

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” he finally asked. 

“Look I know we’re not officially together or anything but-”

“What do you mean?” Ace asked, cutting you off. “We are together.”

You stared at him. “Ace,” you laughed nervously, staring at him. “We are not together.”

“We sleep together,” he said, pointing at the bed under you. “We eat together and work on chores together and well…we do everything together.”

“But we're not exclusively together,” you reasoned, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He looked hurt at your comment. “Have you been sleeping with other people? I thought-”

“No!” you rushed to clarify. “I just mean-”

“I haven’t either. So we’re exclusive.”

You were having trouble arguing with his reasoning. You never had any plans to sleep with anybody else. And it didn’t sound like he did either. But that perfume…

You took a breath, deciding it was better to ask than to endlessly contemplate. 

“What’s with the cherry perfume then?”

He stared at you, blinking a few times. You could see the gears in his brain turning, trying to piece together what your question had to do with the current conversation. 

“You mean this cherry perfume?” He picked up a fancy bottle on your bedside table and held it out to you. You hadn’t noticed it there before. It was beautifully made, with a light pink liquid swirling around inside of it. 

“I bought it for you,” he said.

You raised your eyebrow in suspicion. “For me?”

He nodded, squeezing the pump on the side. A mist of liquid came out from the nozzle, and a light cherry scent filled your nostrils. You closed your eyes and inhaled deeper. The scent really was lovely. 

“It’s really nice,” you admitted. 

You could feel Ace relax next to you, happy that you were satisfied with his purchase. “That's why I didn’t want to go shopping with you. I wanted to get you something nice.”

You opened your eyes again to find a blush spreading across Ace’s freckles. He looked embarrassed and timid, a side only you could pull out of him. You planted a quick kiss on his cheek, thankful that you had gotten the mishap cleared up. 

“I love it,” you whispered. 

He smiled sheepishly at you and placed the bottle back on the nightstand. “So are we exclusive now?” he asked. 

His dark eyes stared deeply into your soul, and you felt your heart flutter. You desperately wanted to jump up and down in excitement at his question, but you didn’t want him to know how thrilled you were about his question. 

A cheeky grin appeared across your face. “Are you asking me?” you teased.

His lips pushed out in a pout knowing you were taunting him. He was about to respond with something snarky, but you grabbed his cheeks and pulled his face towards your lips, desperate for a taste of him again. 

His lips were chapped and salty from the sea spray, but you didn’t mind it. When you finally released your mouth from his, he was only able to mumble out a few words before he dove back in for another kiss. 

“I’m all yours, if you’ll have me.”

You couldn’t think of anyone better to belong to.