#another old gif sitting in my drafts

[aerynwrites]

Dreams Become Reality

Gale Dekarios x Fem!Reader

A/N: FINALLY got this finished lmao. Posted a teaser of this weeks ago and it has been sitting in my drafts ever since staring at me as I stared back it. Type a few words. Stop for a few says. Few more words, an even longer break. And so on lol. But it’s finally here! Based on the request.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, Reader is described as having female anatomy, fingering, gale comes untouched (kinda), choking, wet dreams, inappropriate use of Mage Hand, fluff and slight aftercare at the end.

The air around you is thick. 

Thick with tension. Thick with the warm breaths leaving both your lips. Thick with the smell of arousal. 

It’s all consuming - Gale, is all consuming. Surrounding and overtaking your every sense. 

The scent of him fills your nose - sandalwood, and old books, and right now, sweat. The exertion has made a thin layer form on his skin as his body slides against your own. 

Gale surrounds you in every way, cocooning you between his body and the sheets, his lips very rarely leaving your skin as he moves with you, thrusting his hips against your own, bringing you closer and closer to the edge you long to jump off of. 

“Gale…” 

His name falls from your lips in a whispered prayer, begging for more as he responds with a soft groan of his own. 

He calls your name, and you whine in response. But then he calls it again, the sound falling in a gasp from his lips as one of his hands reaches up to clasp your shoulder in tight grip. 

He calls your name again and this time darkness crashes around you as you startle awake in bed. 

Your sleep clothes cling uncomfortably to your sweat-damp skin. Blood rushes in your ears as your chest rises and falls with effort to suck in air. And worst of all is the ache in your core, arousal burning bright in your belly from what you now realize was a dream. 

Another gentle squeeze to your shoulder makes your eyes finally fall to Gale, who sits beside you in the bed and appears positively flustered. 

He’s as short of breath as you are, chest stuttering as he gazes at you, eyes wide. You look him over quickly, and even in the darkness of the room you’re able to see the way his pupils are blown wide with lust and dark flush on his cheeks. And, you definitely don't miss the sight of him hard beneath the covers. 

“Shit…” you mutter, your own face heating up as you realize what happened. 

“Did I wake you?” you ask softly, trying and failing to tamp down the images from your dream. “I was…I’m sorry-“

Gale shakes his head, his hand falling down to lace his fingers with yours as his lips tilt up in a small smile. 

“No need for apologies,” he tells you, ever so slightly leaning in. “Most people would consider that a compliment. When their partner dreams of them in such a manner, well - at least, I hope it was me that was plaguing your dreams considering it was my name falling from your lips-“ 

You cut him off as you lunge for him, covering his mouth with your hand as you shush him, embarrassment swelling in your chest. 

“Do you ever stop talking?” 

Gale hums beneath your hand, and reaches up to pull it away from his mouth. You expect him to respond but instead, suddenly, he flips you over and presses you back into the mattress, his body hovering over yours as his hands hold your own beside your head. 

“I do indeed know when to hold my tongue but…” He pauses for a moment, and you blink in surprise as a candle on the bedside table ignites with a wave of his hand, casting you both in a dim glow before he continues. 

“I find myself most curious as to what had you calling my name like that even in the deepest sleep.” 

Gods, you feel at war with yourself. The embarrassment creeping up your neck and heating your cheeks, clashing with the arousal still burning bright in your veins. The images from your dream flash behind your eyes as they slip closed, yet the thought of voicing them makes you shrink into the covers. 

As if sensing your hesitancy, Gale is the first to act, leaning in to capture your lips in a soft kiss, lips moving against yours before he pulls away just slightly, nose brushing your own. 

“How about I guess, hm?” he asks, his voice low as one of his hands lets go of one of yours. 

His fingers brush against the shell of your ear, traveling lower over your neck, down over your shoulder to brush against your clothed breast. Your breath hitches with the contact, and you watch through half-lidded eyes as Gale’s lips tilt upward ever so slightly. 

“Was I touching you here?” he asks, voice a mere whisper as his thumb rubs over the stiff peak of your nipple. “Or perhaps it was…here…”

His hand leaves your chest in favor of slipping ever downwards, toying with the thin fabric of your underwear beneath your sleeping gown. 

Without much thought, you nod your head, a moan slipping past your lips as the heat of your arousal burns brighter. 

Gale’s eyes twinkle with triumph, and instead of leaving him with that satisfaction, another flash from your dreams makes you speak before that earlier embarrassment can creep back up. 

“But…there was something else…” you manage to say, your voice soft as your cheeks blaze with heat. 

Gale’s head tilts to the side ever so slightly at your words, brows winging up in surprise as he stills. 

“Oh?” he breathes. “Now I must know what was going on in that beautiful head of yours.” 

Despite your best effort, something akin to shame wells up in your chest, regret at ever saying anything invading your mind. But Gale’s unadulterated interest, that ever present curiosity in his gaze, practically begs you to please him by voicing your fantasies. 

You let out a shaky sigh. “What if…what if you think it’s…what if you don’t like it?” you ask sheepishly. 

Gale lets out a small chuckle, eyes soft as his free hand retreats from between you to rest encouragingly against your hip, squeezing gently. 

“My love,” he says quietly. “I can assure you that you will receive no wayward looks or reprimands from me. Your desires and fantasies are your own, I must admit - but dare I say I would be more than eager to help you fulfill them.” 

His words soothe you slightly, but that doubt is still present, and Gale must know you’re about to protest when your lips part, because he stops you with another kiss. 

“I assure you,” he says as he pulls away just enough to hover over you. “If for any reason I am not comfortable I will make it known. Just as I would expect you to do if our positions were reversed.” 

You manage a small nod, muscles quivering in subdued excitement as you reach down to take the hand at your hip slowly bringing it back on your body. 

“You were touching me there,” you say softly, voice sultry with arousal. “But you were also…here.”

Your nerves are still tingling with a tinge of uncertainty as you guide his hand to the base of your throat. 

A shiver passes the through you as the calloused palm of his hand brushes over the delicate skin, his fingers twitching in surprise as you gently press them to wrap around the sides of your neck. 

You watch through lowered lashes for his reaction, your heart tittering when his breath hitches, eyes widening and going dark with lust all at once. 

For just a brief moment, you expect him to pull away, but Gale - as usual - surprises you. His fingers flex, pressing just a bit firmer into the pulse points of your neck, his palm placing just the barest of pressure to your throat, making your already labored breathing come out ragged as a moan slips past your lips. 

“Gods above…” Gale groans, leaning up so his lips hover over your own. “This is what you dreamt of? My hands on your skin, bringing you pleasure while also toying with the slightest bit of danger?” 

He presses his fingers in deeper, not enough to leave marks or completely cut off air, but more than before and enough to make you acutely aware of the blood pumping beneath his fingers, and the breath straining through your throat. 

You can feel new wetness pooling between your thighs, joining the arousal already present from your obscene dreamscape.

And Gale…Well, he seems just as affected as you are. His hips have slotted against your own, pushing up your nightgown as he presses himself against you. 

All you can manage is a small nod to his question, not sure you’d be able to speak if you wanted to. Ecstasy courses through your veins, buzzing delightfully and fanning those flames burning deep in your core even higher as his hand tightens just that much more around your throat. 

Another moan works its way up your throat, this time getting stuck before it can fully pass your lips, the sound smothered by the pressure again your neck. 

Gale lets out another sinful sound, his hips pressing more incessantly against your own, enough that you can feel the hardness of him against your clothed center. 

Just when you think he’s had enough, that all too familiar heated look in his eyes, he pauses. 

Your brows furrow as his grip against your throat loosens as he mutters an unintelligible incantation. You go to question him, but you hear his answer before you even voice the question. 

His voice is smooth in your mind, as if he’s speaking directly to you, his lips never moving. 

‘I don’t want there to be any question of if you’re able to stop me.’ His thought comes into your mind as easily as if he were speaking, and your eyes widen. 

“Detect thoughts?” you ask, shocked at the brilliance of the idea. 

Now neither of you need to physically speak to communicate, thus no fear for Gale if you need to stop. 

Gale smiles, leaning down to capture you lips in a searing kiss. 

‘Exactly,’ he says in your mind. ‘And now…there is no need for my lips to leave your skin, no distractions from fulfilling that dream of yours…’

“Gale, please-“ you beg aloud, your patience now gone, and your only desire being him touching you, taking you in the way he was before your dream was snatched from your unconscious hands. 

Gale chuckles, lips breaking from yours to travel lower, nipping at your jaw and trailing featherlight kisses down your neck. 

‘Though I must admit…those words sound much sweeter falling from your lips than floating through my mind.’

He continues his path downwards, no doubt leaving behind ample evidence of his attentions, until he’s stopped in his tracks by the collar of your sleep clothes. It’s then that you both finally move to divest yourselves of the offending articles. 

Your hands move frantically against Gale’s velvet shirt, the fabric clinging to your hands as you bunch it up to eventually tug it over his head. His pants are not far behind, the renowned wizard helping you with those before his lips are on you once more, only parting from you as he removes your nightgown, the fabric forcing you to separate for just a moment before you claim him again. 

It feels like déjà vu as Gale presses you back into the mattress, his body caging you in, cocooning you in a heady warmth as his scent surrounds you. 

Flashes of your dream come to mind once more, and you’re forced to swallow the moan that Gale lets out, his teeth nipping gently at your bottom lip as he begs for entrance. 

You grant his silent request eagerly, moaning unabashedly agsint him as his tongue presses forward to glide against your own. 

Gale has always been a giving lover, desperate to show you how much he loves you when his words sometimes fail him. Even now you can tell he’s hells bent on indulging your fantasies. But it feels different…It feels as if he’s more eager than usual. His lips less precise, his fingertips digging just a bit harder into your hips…

He’s ravenous. 

And who are you to complain? 

Sensing your thoughts, you can feel Gale smile agsint your lips, his voice flooding your mind once more as you open your own to the spell.

“Ravenous, indeed,” he affirms, his hand snaking it’s way back up your sternum, closing deftly around your throat as he pulls away only to gaze down at you. 

His lips are swollen from your charred kisses, chest quickened with short pants, eyes blown wide with lust as he fully takes you in beneath him. 

“I have seen your desires in your minds eye,” he says aloud, voice drenched in pure sin. “But perhaps I may make a suggestion?”

You can only nod, a whimper slipping past your lips as his fingers tighten against your pulse point, teasing you with the barest hint of pressure. 

He smiles down at you - a wicked cunning thing, and you can’t help the way the coil in your belly pulls ever more taut, blood hot with ecstasy at the gleam in his eyes. 

He leans back down, another soft incantation falling from his lips before they capture your own again, and he’s speaking in your mind again just as a ghostly touch brushes against the delicate skin of your inner thigh. 

“With my hands most occupied-“ he flexes his hand against your throat, finally giving you the pressure you wish for as his other hand support himself beside your head. “I’ll need another to assist.”

He gives you no true warning before you feel a hand at your center, palm pressed agsint your clit as two fingers drag agonizingly slow through your slick folds. 

Gale’s hand cuts off the moan that bubbles up in your throat, lips swallowing what little sound does slip through, as your hips buck up into his own. 

Mage hand.

You barely have time to register that the sneaky bastard had cast the spell before the extension of himself is teasing you one more, pressing against that bundle of nerves before moving down to sink two fingers into you. 

Gale presses his fingers deeper into the sides of your throat as you groan once more - both from the magic pleasuring you and the rush in your head from the way he chokes you. 

You don’t even realize how close you were to the edge until this moment. The pressure building in your core and in your head feeling like too much in the best way possible. 

Everything feels like it’s been dialed to one hundred. The threads of the sheets beneath your skin, the smell of Gale surrounding you, the way his lips brush against your cheek when he breaks from the kiss, the fingers moving inside of you - brushing against that spot that makes you see stars.

You can feel the way his breath comes out in short bursts, the air warm against your dewy skin as he presses his body into your own. 

It’s just like your dream again. Him cocooning you entirely, his smell making your mouth water, his hand against your throat making your head pound, and his magic finally throwing you over the edge. 

You come with little warning to the wizard above you, but you’re sure he is able to tell. Whether it be from your jumbled thoughts no doubt being shouted at him from your connection, or the fact that he knows you so well…He’s prepared. 

As you tumble over that precipice, Gale applies just a little more pressure to your throat, enough so you can still gain air, but just barely.

You can feel your pulse pounding beneath his fingertips, your breath scratching against your throat as ecstasy consumes you. It feels as if pure starlight ignites in your veins, a ragged moan breaking through as you arch up into the body above you, seeking more from your lover as he does the same, grinding his hips into yours.

Gale reaches his own end virtually untouched, the mere friction from your body against his and the pure pleasure of indulging your fantasy has him spending himself on your stomach with a groan. 

His grip around your neck loosens before disappearing entirely as he all but collapses against you, uncaring of the mess between you two as he slips strong arms around you before rolling to the side, taking you along with him. 

It’s a few moments before either of you speak, and you realize both the mage hand and the detect thought spells have ended. No doubt Gale’s own end brought about the disruption of his concentration. But when words finally come, it’s Gale who speaks first. 

His fingers brush against your neck gently, barely a whisper of skin against skin as he takes a deep breath. 

“I fear I may have gotten carried away,” he says softly, brows furrowed in concern as you pull away just enough to look at him. 

You reach up, your fingers bumping against his own and can feel the way your skin burns just slightly hotter where his hand was earlier. There must be faint marks of your activities, and you have to try to quell the new stab of arousal that shoots through you. 

“You didn’t,” you assure him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “It was perfect.”

His face relaxes at your words, lips tugging upwards slightly. 

“Yes, well…Next time perhaps you can indulge me with your deepest fantasies verbally, instead of waking me in the middle of the night.”

You raise a questioning brow at him, hands sliding up until you can slide your arms around his neck.

“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy yourself?” 

Gale scoffs, nearly choking on air. “By the gods, no!” He says, aghast. “I’m simply saying that perhaps, in the future, we can disclose our fantasies more readily…So we may indulge as we please.”

You hum softly, eyes widening at his words. 

“Our fantasties?” You question, watching as a blush starts to tinge the wizard's cheeks.

“Ah, well - ehm - Yes. You didn’t think you’re the only one with uh…secret desires, did you?”

Slowly, you move so that Gale is laid out beneath you as you straddle his wait, hands planted on his chest as you gaze down at him. 

“And…what would your fantasies be?”

Gale pauses for a moment, unsure. But you lean down to press a quick kiss to his cheek, before pulling back, a smirk on your lips.

“Come, my love,” you tease. “How about I guess, hm?”

Gale lets out a soft groan at your repeat of his earlier jest, and you can’t help but laugh as his hands come up to settle on your hips. You lean down to kiss him properly this time and can’t stop the excitement pooling in your belly once more. 

The night is still young, and you have a feeling that there is much more to discover.

[yammpi3]

𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 𝙀𝙉𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙆𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙤 𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙢𝙞 [𝙃𝙖𝙬𝙠𝙨]

synopsis. You were a former hero commission hero but when you made a simple mistake in a mission the commission sent you on they deemed you unfit and fired you, hence made you out to be a villain to the public. A few years later you meet your old partner Hawks out on his nightly patrol then you guys make up….made out .. :3

— content warnings. sorta plot with smut, eating out, p to v, kissing, sex sex sex, not really coordinated well? i think? dom/sub hawks

— W.C 2.3k

— authors note. This has been rotting in my drafts for like a year now but i thought i should post something…so..heres this!! Im rlly sorry if it’s formatted kinda weirdly, imo the smut is also written sorta weird but i think thats just me..overthinking it ANYWAYS enjoy reading <33 also Thank you FOR 100 FOLLOWERS?? i didn’t expect my blog would reach that much so TYTY.

Hawks sighed heavily, leaning back in his office desk chair, elbows propping on the armrests. He rubbed his tired eyes, tilting his head back, attempting to avoid eye contact with the stack of paperwork that lay out before him.

Every muscle in his body ached with exhaustion. It felt like he had been sitting in this same spot for days, poring over reports and documents in an endless cycle of busy work. As the number-two hero, the public demanded nothing but his very best. They expected him to always be alert and swift in responding to any crisis, dealing with volatile situations and dangerous villains with calm precision. 

But they didn't see this part. They didn't witness the countless late nights spent filling out forms, compiling statistics, and attending meetings after meetings. No cameras captured the headaches induced by mind-numbing bureaucracy or the frustration of dealing with petty politics. This was the hidden cost of his elevated rank—an incessant paper-pushing grindstone that wore him down more than any actual fight ever could. 

 

Slowly dragging his hands down his face, Hawks sighed again as the aches and knots of tension complained loudly in his neck and shoulders. For a brief moment, he considered using his feathers to shred just a few stray documents, to do less work. 

He stretched his arms over his head and rolled his tense muscles, his wings fluttering restlessly behind him. All he wanted at that moment was to forget. To spread his wings and fly through open skies, feeling the wind ruffle through his feathers as he left his troubles far below.

 

Tilting his chair back as far as it would go, he gave a long-suffering look at the piles of work that towered precariously around him, silently pleading with it all to spontaneously catch fire or simply vanish into thin air. With a resigned sigh, Hawks dropped all four chair legs back to the floor and reluctantly pulled the topmost file towards him once more, bracing himself for another grind of the ever-turning wheel.

Hawks rubbed his tired eyes once more, feeling his motivation drain away with each mundane paragraph he read. At this rate, he'd be here all night and well into the morning. With a groan, he tossed the file back onto the pile, temporarily defeated. Maybe a quick break was what he needed to recharge his focus. 

 

Pushing away from his desk, Hawks stood and stretched out his cramped body to its full height, his wings unfolding to their full span. A midnight flight around the city was just what he needed. The cool night air and darkened streets would do wonders for clearing his cluttered mind. 

Stepping out onto his office balcony, Hawks took a few steps back, then launched himself into the sky with his wings. He flew high, circling up towards the crowning heights of the skyscrapers that shone below. Closing his eyes briefly, he took a deep breath of the fresher air, feeling tensions beginning to melt away already. 

 

As he glided back down towards street level, Hawks scanned the sidewalks lazily while lost in thought. He was mulling over the options when movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. 

Your shadow slipped between alleyways, scanning for any civilians in the area. Suddenly flashes of red nearing a rooftop drew your eye—a familiar winged silhouette.

Going on a nearby rooftop, you spotted Hawks looking down, trying to find who or what he saw. 

You and Hawks used to know each other pretty well in your teen years when you dreamed of being a great hero. So when you were selected by  the Commission to become one, you were ecstatic. But from day one, Keigo Takami made things... complicated.

You two went way back to your training days, though you mostly kept your head down back then. Once in the pro scene though, Takami always found ways to rile you up during sessions, whether with sly taunts or risky stunts that pushed protocol to the limit. 

Part of you wanted to throttle that arrogant asshole, but another part couldn't deny the thrill he made you feel. 

Late nights spent training turned into more..private scenarios. For a time, it was nice to find solace in each other. But then came the ruling—you'd been deemed "not hero material" after one mistake, ruining your future. That's when Takami tried to connect with you again, but the hero commission wouldn't even allow him to be close to you to not damage the reputation he already made with the public. 

"You're up rather late for a hero," you whispered directly into his ear, barely suppressing a chuckle at his startled flinch. Golden eyes met yours warily, yet he made no move to escape our intimate embrace. 

"I'm off duty," was his measured reply. "And you?" Smoke clung thick to the memories in his eyes. 

Your fingers, carefully gloved, traced the proud arch of his wings, feeling tension bleed away slowly. "Care for some company, Keigo?"

He held your gaze steadily, considering. At last he nodded, extending a hand. “Not that I can shake you off anyway,” he replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

You sat together on the secluded rooftop, settling close against one another. As you caught up, you both couldn't help but feel deprived of each other's touch; it had been far too long since you'd seen one another face to face. Sure, he'd heard about you through others in the commission, but being here together was different somehow. 

When your voices at last fell silent, a gentle touch turned your chin to meet Hawks' searching eyes. "Y/N…" he murmured, leaning in so your faces were mere inches apart. One of his wings stretched out to block any view from the street below, enveloping you both in its feathery embrace. 

Hawks closed the remaining distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a soft yet insistent kiss.

One hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, as the other wrapped around your waist to draw you flush against his body. You felt even better than he remembered. 

 

When your lips parted under him, Hawks held back a groan as he rested his forehead against yours as you both panted for air. Wisps of steam rose between the two of you in the chill night. 

If he tasted you fully, it would undo his last shred of willpower.

“You're going to be the end of me.." Hawks murmured thickly. Already, he ached to have more, but taking you here against the railing would be too brazen, even for his recklessness. 

"Then take me somewhere more...private then," you shot back in a sinful whisper. 

With a sly smile, Hawks swept you into his arms in a bridal carry, wings already prepared for launch. "Hold on tight.”

 

Hawks kicked off from the roof of the building and took flight, relishing your tight grip around his shoulders. The thrill of having you in his arms sent adrenaline surging through his veins. 

He landed lightly on the balcony of his high-rise apartment, still holding you securely against his chest. Your masked face was turned up to meet his gaze.

"I.. I really missed you," Hawks murmured, pressing you back against the wall with his body. He caged you in with outspread wings, feathers gently ghosting your skin. 

 

"Me too.." you replied. Your hands came up to roam his body just as eagerly.

Hawks captured your lips in a searing kiss, conveying all his pent-up needs and desires without restraint. This was wrong on so many levels, and yet he'd never felt more alive. 

 

Kicking open the balcony doors, he swept you inside and laid you down on his plush sofa. His hands worked busily to remove your mask, wanting nothing between you and him; clothing fell piece by piece until nothing was left. 

 

"Say you want this," Hawks pleaded roughly, desperate for your answer. 

Your intoxicating laughter rang out as you pulled him against your body. "I want all of you, Keigo." 

Hawks' hands roamed your body eagerly, relearning every curve as his lips traveled along your jawline. You sighed contentedly, arching into his touch while undoing the fastenings of his hero costume with practiced expertise. 

 

Slowly, methodically, he kissed his way down the delicate column of your throat. Hawks lingered there to suckle your rapid pulse, eliciting breathy moans. His name falling from your lips in such a manner sent fresh spikes of arousal through him.

 

As you lay bare under him, Hawks paused to simply take in the sublime vision of your naked form, illuminated by the moonlight. "You're so..beautiful," he whispered in awe, tracing idle patterns upon your sensitized flesh.

 

Your hands delved into the downy feathers at his wings' bases, eliciting a guttural groan. The way you caressed his most sensitive areas, teasing but not quite enough, tested Hawks' faltering control. He nipped lightly at the swell of your breast in retaliation.

Tracing a tortuous path down your torso with wet kisses and love bites, Hawks' fingers dipped between your thighs. He chuckled at discovering your slick arousal, already swollen and desperate for friction. Slowly, he circled your clit, gathering your arousal onto his fingers.

 

"Please..." you begged wantonly, bucking your hips to chase more contact. But Hawks would loathe to grant your unspoken request so easily. He continued his maddening ministrations, coaxing you higher and higher with expert precision. Only when your keening cries bordered on anguish did he finally decide to sink two fingers deep inside.

 

The powerful rhythm he set drove you swiftly towards the peak. Hawks swallowed your hoarse screams of completion, savoring your intimate essence on his tongue.

"I've missed this..," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

 

Then his tongue delved into your slick arousal with deft, practiced strokes. Your responsive sighs and the way you grabbed Takami's hair only spurred him onward in his devotions. 

 

He alternated between broad, flat licks and focused flicks directly over your clit. When Keigo very lightly grazed his teeth along your folds, you keened and bucked again into his ministrations wildly. He hummed his approval, sending vibrations through your core.

 

It did not take long for you to climb once more towards the precipice, unraveling beautifully beneath his skilled mouth. Hawks drank deeply from your release, prolonging each aftershock with slow caresses of his tongue. Only when your quivering stopped did he withdraw, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he cleaned his glistening chin. 

 

As he swirled his tongue around his lips, savoring the last hints of you, you gazed up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Your chest still heaved in languid aftershocks of pleasure, your limbs boneless and slack upon the plush cushions.

"Come here," you beckoned hoarsely, crooking a finger. Your body cried out to be filled after such thorough worship, muscles reflexively clenching around nothing inside. 

 

Hawks obeyed without hesitation, crawling up to drape himself over your welcoming form once more. You gripped his shoulders firmly, flipping your positions with a playful show of wiry strength, and smiled down at him wickedly. 

 

Grasping his aching length and rubbing the tip of his cock had him seeing stars. Hawks groaned unabashedly.

Slowly, you let him inside, savoring each velvet glide. Hawks bucked helplessly, claws scrabbling for purchase against the cushions as your sensual walls milked his length.

 

The pleasure you drew from Hawks was exquisite torture. Each roll of your hips sent fresh shockwaves through his twitching member, shattering his composure. He was reduced to begging, his nails scratched weakly at your thighs as you rode him to the brink. 

 

"Please...I need to come," Hawks gasped, moving his hips upward in frantic little thrusts. His cock throbbed painfully with the desperate need for release. 

You smiled down at him cruelly. "Beg for it." Your lips formed the words deliciously slowly, knowing their effect.

Hawks keened, wings fluttering uselessly. "Please let me cum p-please I wanna cum, I need..to please..” 

 

Suddenly, you bore down on him, grinding your pelvis against his in brutal circles. The new angle sent Hawks reaching his high with a raw cry. 

 

You quickly let him pull out as his cock pulsed and thick ropes of seed spilled forth, splattering his taut stomach in pearly ribbons. Hawks shuddered through wave after wave; your continued help milking every last drop from him. 

Breathless and spent, he could only lay pliantly as you leaned down to collect his essence on your fingers. Your wicked tongue flicked out to taste, making Hawks twitch anew in oversensitivity.

 

You smiled softly, your expression gentling as you gazed upon Hawks' flushed, panting form. His chest still heaved mightily in the aftermath of his climax.

 

Reverently, you traced light patterns on his ribs and pecs with delicate fingers, soothing away any last tremors. Hawks hummed appreciatively at your tender touch, grasping one of your hands to press a lingering kiss to the palm. 

 

"Come here, Birdie," you murmured, beckoning him into your open embrace. Hawks complied readily, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a contented sigh. Your legs tangled together comfortably as his wings folded around you both like a feathery blanket.

No threats of capture or duty rules could penetrate the sanctity of that moment. There, held securely within your arms, Hawks felt at once protected yet free—freed from the shackles of self-doubt and expectation. He belonged, body and soul, to one who accepted him fully without judgment or demand.

 

Drowsiness began to take hold as your rhythmic caresses through soft-down lulled Hawks towards slumber. "Stay?" he mumbled into your skin, his voice blurred by oncoming sleep yet filled with gentle hope. 

You kissed his forehead, followed by a whisper, "I’ll stay, promise." was the sweetest assurance Hawks could wish for.

© yammpi3 2024. All work belongs to @yammpi3. You can repost if you want to support my blog/writing! Please don't modify, translate, or plagiarize in any way on ANY platform.

[hyperactively-me]

break in, break down

"You're stayin' with me tonight," he declares, voice firm and unwavering. You open your mouth, nearly telling him no, I'll find a hotel, but the look he shoots you suggests that you go with him. With a nod of agreement, Simon leads you away from the scene, his hand on your back firm and reassuring.

this has been sitting in my drafts for like, ever. it's not the best cause its super old, like months old and i lowkey forgot i even had it, but it'll do for now while i'm in this writing rut.

happy reading <3

warnings: home invasion, panic attack reaction (i think that's it? lmk if i missed anything please!)

A loud bang reverberates through your apartment, your peaceful sleep interrupted.

You open your eyes with a start, the volume of the sound causing your heart race and your breath catch in your throat.

You're silent for another moment until the sound of glass shattering causes you to jump. You sit up now, dumbfounded for a brief moment before unshakable anxiety takes over.

There's no way this could be happening to you right now.

You immediately leap out of bed, grabbing a stray hoodie off the floor, slipping it over your thin pajamas. Next, you grab your phone with shaky hands, trembling from the adrenaline and anxiety coursing through your veins. The sounds from outside your bedroom are starting to get louder. You swipe your car keys from your drawer, shoving them into the pocket of your hoodie.

In a frenzy, you grope under your bed for a baseball bat, struggling to steady your shaking hands as you grip it tightly. The rattling of your doorknob nearly makes you pass out in fear. Simon had told you multiple times to keep your door locked when you sleep, stressing to you that it wasn't safe to leave it unlocked, especially at night.

There was no way you could escape through the hallway. Lucky for you, your apartment is on the first floor of the building, meaning that you would be able to safely jump out of your bedroom window without injuring yourself.

You place all your things down quickly, unlatching your window from its locks. You heave it open with all your might, grunting as you hold it up to lock it into an open position. Grabbing your baseball bat first, you throw it out the window and onto the grass below you. Could never be too safe.

Suddenly, the person or people on the other side of your door start kicking at it, the flimsy wood shaking from the impacts. You bite back a scream, prompting you to jump out of your window, dropping onto the grass below you clumsily.

You don't bother looking back as you sprint to your car in the adjacent parking lot, throwing yourself into the drivers seat unceremoniously.

Without another thought, you dial 911. Running on pure adrenaline, you tell the operator your address and the urgency of the situation. The kind voice on the other end tells you that the police are on their way before you hang up.

You bite back a sob as your shaking hands type in Simon's phone number. You hold your phone up to your, chewing your finger as it rings once, twice, and the line picks up.

"Hullo?" a scratchy, sleep-ridden voice on the other end of the line rings out. His accent sounds particularly thick.

"Simon," your voice breaks, the adrenaline now worn off, leaving you a wreck.

"What's wrong?" he asks immediately, now sounding more awake. You hear shuffling on the other end.

"I- I think my apartment got broken into," you sob, fat tears now freely falling down your cheeks. "I'm so scared," you cry, bawling like a baby.

Simon's voice takes on a sharp urgency. "'M coming over right now. Where are you? Are you hurt?"

"I'm in my car, in the parking lot," you say tearfully, trying to wipe the tears from your face unsuccessfully.

"I've already called 911; they're on the way—" you add, clutching onto your phone.

The sound of a door opening and slamming shut crackles through the phone. "Be there in ten. Stay on the line, love."

"I'm scared," you cry again, your free hand trembling as you reach to make sure your car door is locked.

"I know, love, I know. Just hang in there. 'M on my way," Simon reassures you, his voice gentle. The ten-minute wait feels like an eternity as you sit in your car, sniffling every so often as you look out your car windows to make sure no one is coming towards you.

Sirens wail in the distance, the police clearly arriving on scene. Despite the growing fear gnawing at you, Simon's voice provides a source of comfort.

"The police are almost here," you breath into the phone, pulling your knees up to your chest.

"Good, I'm here," he grunts. You look up and see his truck hurtling through the parking lot, stopping abruptly right behind your car. He slides out of his car, rushing to the drivers side of your car.

The moment he reaches your car, you throw open the door and practically fall into his arms. Simon holds you tight as you fall into him, sobs wracking your body.

"Don't cry," he soothes, pulling you tighter against him. "'S alright, 's handled."

He cradles you in his grasp, running his hand over your hair as you sob into his t-shirt, fists bunching up the fabric. You cling to him as if he's your lifeline, the scent of his t-shirt grounding you ever so slightly.

"I've got you," he murmurs, rubbing your back.

Your sobs gradually subside into quiet sniffles, and you take a deep breath.

The distant wailing of sirens grows closer, indicating the police are here. Simon releases you just enough to glance over his shoulder at the approaching vehicles. "The police are here," you whisper, your voice shaky but relieved.

The flashing lights of police cars illuminate the surroundings as officers approach. Simon steps back, maintaining a protective stance beside you.

Two police officers approach you and Simon, asking for details about the break-in. You pull at the hem of your hoodie, trying to cover up your practically bare thighs from your tiny pajamas. Simon settles his hand on your lower back, encouraging you to speak to the officers. You recount the events timidly, telling them as much as you know. After providing your statement, the police assure you they'll investigate your apartment, but advise you that it's not the best to stay there tonight. For obvious reasons.

Upon their insistence of you spending the night somewhere else, before you could even open your mouth, Simon is insisting, no, demanding that you stay with him for the night.

"You're stayin' with me tonight," he declares, voice firm and unwavering.

You open your mouth, nearly telling him no, I'll find a hotel, but the look he shoots you suggests that you go with him.

With a nod of agreement, Simon leads you away from the scene, his hand on your back firm and reassuring.

As you approach his truck, Simon opens the door for you. He helps you up into the passenger seat, making sure you're settled before closing the door with a determined thud. Simon then strides around to the driver's side, the scent of him lingering in the air as he gets in. The engine roars to life, and you find comfort in the steady hum of the engine.

The drive to Simon's place is mostly quiet. He occasionally glances at you, concern etched into his features. You stare out of the window, the events of the night replaying in your mind. You shiver in your seat, thinking about what could have happened if you hadn't escaped through your window. Simon's hand finds yours, a silent gesture that makes your heart ache with gratitude.

As you pull into Simon's driveway, you're met with the warm glow of his porch light. The familiar sight brings a new sense of relief. It's not the first time you've been to his quaint home. Simon turns off the engine, and without a word, he's at your side, opening the door for you again.

He leads you inside, the click of the door shutting behind you echoing in the quiet house. Simon heads to the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets. Moments later, he appears with a mug of tea, a small but comforting gesture. He hands it to you, the warmth seeping into your cold hands.

"Drink this. It'll help calm your nerves," he says, his voice gentle.

You take a sip, the familiar taste of chamomile offering a small respite. Simon sits across from you, watching as you try to steady your trembling hands. The silence between you isn't uncomfortable; it's a shared understanding that words might not be enough to mend the damage that's been dealt.

After a while, Simon breaks the silence. "I'll make up the spare room for you. Take your time. We'll deal with everythin' in the morning."

He disappears down the hall, leaving you alone in the living room. You look around his living room, eyeing his front door for a brief moment. You finish the tea and set the mug on the coffee table, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

When you enter the spare room, you find it tidy and pretty bare. The scent of clean sheets and the comforting atmosphere of his home a stark difference from your own. You watch as he double checks the windows to make sure they're locked tight. He also shows you the lock on your own bedroom door.

"Everythin' is secure, 've triple checked it all," Simon states, turning from the window to look at you. His concern is evident in his eyes, and you nod in response.

"Thank you, Simon. I appreciate all of this," you say, your voice quiet.

He moves over to the wall, crouching down to plug a night light into the wall. He taps it a few times to make sure it works. When it flickers on, he grunts, satisfied. Pushing himself up to standing, he walks over to you.

He gives you a reassuring smile. "No need to thank me. 'S the least I can do. You get some rest. 'M right across the hall if you need anything."

With that, he leaves the room, gently closing the door behind him. You make sure to lock the door behind him as he leaves. You crawl into bed, pulling the covers over your weary body, exhaustion settling in.

You close your eyes, hoping that sleep will offer some reprieve. As you lay there, the events of the night replay in your mind. The fear, the vulnerability, and the violation of your home weigh heavily on you. Slight sounds make you jump in fear, and all of a sudden you start to breath heavily. You can't be in here, not alone.

You stumble out of the room, practically falling into the hallway. The dim glow of the nightlight casts long shadows, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. Determined, you make your way to Simon's door and knock softly.

The door opens, and Simon appears, concern etched on his face. "Everythin' alright, love?"

You can barely form the words, your voice barely a whisper. "Can't stay in there alone."

Without hesitation, Simon opens the door wider, gesturing for you to enter. His room is dark, all lights off. You step inside his room, tugging your hoodie tighter around your body. You settle onto the edge of his bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to ward off the residual fear.

Simon shuts and locks the door behind him, plunging you both into darkness, save for the slight shine of the moon pouring through between a crack in his curtains.

Simon stands in front of you, looking down with a mix of empathy and concern in his eyes. "You're welcome to stay as long as you need. I don't mind."

"Thank you," you manage to say, the vulnerability in your voice more pronounced in the darkness of the room.

Simon hesitates for a moment before flicking on a small bedside lamp. The soft light casts a warm glow across the room, revealing a space that's both lived-in and comforting. You feel a bit more at ease.

He pulls a chair from his desk and sits across from you, leaving a respectful distance. The silence between you is filled with unspoken words, the weight of the night's events hanging in the air. Simon's gaze is unwavering, and you find solace in the fact that he understands what you need without the need for words.

As the minutes tick by, the atmosphere in the room becomes less tense. Simon breaks the silence, his voice a gentle murmur. "I don't want you to go through this alone. You deserve to feel safe, love."

You manage a weak smile, touched by his sincerity. "Thank you, Simon. You really don't have to be doing all of this for me--"

"Don't say that, I want to," he cuts you off gruffly, offended as if you would even suggest that you weren't worthy enough of his care.

His response hangs in the air, and you notice a flicker of something in Simon's eyes—a hint of frustration or something deeper. The unspoken tension lingers, causing you to shift slightly.

"I just... I don't want you to feel unsafe," Simon adds, his voice softer this time. He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees, his gaze fixed on yours. "Or alone. Fuckin' hell, if you hadn't been able to get out of there..."

He stops, jaw ticking as he thinks. He can't even say it.

The room feels charged with unspoken emotions, and you sense a vulnerability in Simon that mirrors your own.

"Simon," you say softly, your voice a gentle reassurance, "I feel safe with you."

"I've... 've cared about you for a long time, maybe more than I should," Simon admits, his words hanging in the air like a fragile confession.

The vulnerability in his admission tugs at your heart, and you find yourself pushing yourself up off the edge of the bed, cupping his face in your hands.

"I've cared about you too," you confess, the weight of the unspoken finally lifted.

He looks up, meeting your eyes with a mixture of relief and adoration. Simon's hand reaches up to grasp your wrist lightly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand, his eyes searching yours for confirmation.

"I never want you to feel unsafe or alone again. I can't stand the thought of somethin' happenin' t' you."

Your heart swells at the sincerity of his words, and you lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

The conversation lulls, and for a moment, it's just the two of you in the sanctuary of Simon's bedroom. The emotional exhaustion begins to take its toll, and your eyes grow heavy.

He stands from his chair, grasping your upper arms gently, leading you towards his bed once again. Before he sits you down, he looks at you expectantly.

"Is this what you want?"

"Yes," you nod, "I've never wanted anything more."

With your permission, he lays you down on his bed, following you into the bed with a contained eagerness. He drags you up until you're settled on a pillow. Simon slides into the mattress right next to you, pulling the covers up and over the both of you. You turn on your side to face him, eyes searching his face just before he turns off the lamp, plunging you both into darkness.

Simon's hand brushes against your forearm, seeking permission yet again. You scoot over until you're flush against him, cheeks heating up at the proximity. You feel Simon's warm presence beside you, his hand finding its place on your waist before he pulls you up against him, cuddling you. Simon's fingers trace patterns on your back, a soothing motion that pulls you deeper into relaxation.

"Get some rest. I'll be right here if you need anything, love," Simon whispers, playing with the ends of your hair.

"Thank you," you whisper into the darkness, your voice barely audible but carrying a depth of gratitude.

He tightens his grip on your waist, a silent affirmation that he's here for you, that you're not alone. The warmth of his touch and the gentle rise and fall of his breath provide a sense of security that eases the lingering tension in your body.

. . . 

The morning light begins to seep through the curtains, casting a soft glow in Simon's room. As you slowly awaken, the events of the previous night come back to you in fragments. You turn slightly to find Simon still asleep beside you, his features softened by the morning light. His arm is draped protectively over you, and a sense of peace settles in the room. For a moment, you simply revel in the quiet stillness, savoring the moment.

As Simon begins to stir, his eyes meet yours, and a sleepy smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Mornin’," he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," you reply, a small smile playing on your lips. The air in the room feels different, more relaxed.

Simon props himself up on one elbow, his gaze searching yours. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than I thought I would," you admit, a genuine warmth in your voice. "Still kinda freaked out that people broke in to my apartment, but better."

He nods thoughtfully. "We should probably get up, check in with the police," Simon suggests, but there's a reluctance in his eyes to let go of the warmth of the bed.

You cuddle against him once more, hugging him tightly. His arm comes to wrap around your back, hand splayed across your skin.

"Yeah, we should," you say, pulling away gently as you push yourself out of bed.

"We're goin' together," he tells you. "And I will be installing a new security system in your apartment."

You manage a small smile. "I don't think you understand how much I appreciate you for this."

He sighs as he leads you to his small kitchen. "You never have to thank me for anything, love."

Before you can retort, he turns to you. "Let's get some breakfast in ya. How do you like your eggs?"

[kingkatsuki]

— when you get him a birthday cake

Masterlist.

It’s been a while and this has sat dusty and half-finished in my drafts for months, so Happy Birthday, Bakugou.🥺

Warnings: none. Pure fluff, not proofread.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.7k.

Bakugou had never really celebrated his birthday, at least not since he was a child. Far too old for children’s party games and toys (although he’d still scour the internet for vintage All Might action figures as a gift to himself, because those most definitely weren’t toys).

But the thing that irritated him more than anything about his special day was the fact that everyone else seemed far more excited about it than him. Masses of texts from his friends, messages online and an influx of gifts from fans all trying to wish him a very Happy Birthday. News outlets and media suddenly in talks with his PR team to try and get an interview with him on the actual day; when truth be told he’d have agreed to it if they’d offered the day before. The tower of paperwork he was trying to work through had become tiresome and he was hoping for a distraction.

How was it that the world seemed more excited about his Birthday than the Number Two hero was himself?

Heaving a sigh as he stopped the incessant blaring of his phone alarm before wincing through tired, narrowed eyes at the bright light of his phone. The screen completely covered in well wishes that seemed to have started when the clock struck twelve. A few trying to coax him out after work for drinks and to celebrate, those he swiftly ignored. It wasn’t until he scrolled down to a message from Mina practically threatening him to go out that he groaned low and deep in his chest; how was it that his friends were trying to dictate how he spent his birthday every damn year? He’d be happy with a bowl of noodles from his favourite hole in the wall and maybe a slice of cake from the quaint bakery he liked to frequent on Sundays. Now he was going to have to stay up late, and probably carry an inebriated Kirishima home.

By the time he’d made it into the office, Bakugou had put his phone onto do not disturb. Sick of the constant stream of messages that didn’t seem to dissipate. Another thing to add to the list of things that irked him about his special day— and he hadn’t even received the call from his Mother yet. Less of a call to send him well wishes, and more an excuse to remind him that he’s another year older and still painfully single and she’s still without a grandchild. Running a palm down the length of his face as he stepped into the elevator to take it up to his floor.

“Good morning, Dynamight,” You smiled from your desk as he walked past, “And happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” He rasped gruffly in response, it was the first time he’d used his voice all morning.

“I left you a coffee on your desk.”

God, you really were the best part about his day.

You were apprehensive when Bakugou walked by with a heavy set frown across is brow. It wasn’t unusual for him to be grumpy this early in the day, the Pro was definitely not a morning person— but he seemed even more annoyed today. And you were positive the influx of gifts that waited for him by the copier would only serve to irritate him more. Especially when a US limited edition All Might figure he’d ordered from overseas as a gift to himself had still not been delivered. Grimacing when you’d checked the tracking when you woke up this morning and noticed it sat in an airport postal office on the outskirts of Kawasaki; you knew he wouldn’t be happy.

And that’s why you were even more nervous for him to see the gift you’d left sitting on his desk. A gift that definitely couldn’t compare from the small fortune he’d spent on himself.

It was difficult thinking about the perfect gift to get a man that could buy himself anything he wanted, even more difficult when the man happened to be your boss. Any time you looked through shop windows at the various fragrances, gift sets and jewellery everything felt too ostentatious, too intimate. Putting down a garish tie that you wondered why you’d even thought about buying, and settling on a single purchase of an All Might themed birthday card you were certain was for children as you decided to make him something instead.

“What the fuck is this?” You heard Bakugou shout from his office and you felt your heart rattle against your ribcage.

Standing from your desk to open the parted door to see him standing in front of your gift. The All Might card already open and displayed on top of his desk as his attention now sat on the open white box that he’d unwrapped.

“It’s uh— a cake.” You smiled softly.

Bakugou raised a brow at your answer as he directed his gaze back to the cake that sat on top of his desk. Three tiers of soft sponge covered in a vibrant orange icing, with black lines decorating it to replicate the crosses that sat against his chest on his hero costume. You’d never claimed to be a baker, the cake nothing like the one you could’ve probably picked up from Bakugou’s favourite bakery. You knew the exact cakes he enjoyed too, but when googling recipes none seemed to be close to your level or expertise.

And what made it worse is the dessert had not travelled well on your morning commute. Holding tightly onto the box while you contended with the Musutafu rush hour had meant that the tiers had now begun to slide out of place as the cake sat leaning inside its box, now looking rather pathetic.

“A cake?” He repeated, his eyes glancing back down at the vanilla sponge that had a messy attempt of ‘Happy Birthday Dynamight’ scrawled across the top. The piping bag had not been kind to you when you attempted the design, wishing the text looked more like your handwriting and less like you’d baked with a four year old. Which was probably what your boss was thinking right now as he stared down at the sweet treat.

“I’m sorry,” You felt your cheeks burn, “I thought it would be a nice idea—”

“Did you make it yourself?” Bakugou asked, although it was clear that you had. Any shop that would dare to even attempt to sell a monstrosity like this should be shut down.

“Well, yeah,” You hovered in place, “I tried to follow the recipe, and I thought it was going well, but I think I put too much buttercream on, and I’m not very good at piping—”

You found yourself rambling, and it just made you feel worse. Reaching over to flip the cardboard lid back over it to take it away and shield yourself from any further embarrassment.

“Are you not going to have some with me?” Bakugou stopped you from closing the lid completely, his crimson eyes full of sincerity.

“Cake for breakfast? It’s not even nine am—”

“So?” He scoffed, “It’s my birthday. If I can’t have cake for breakfast today then what’s the fuckin’ point? Unless you’re trying to kill me—”

“No!” You wanted the ground to swallow you whole, “Does it really look that bad?”

You looked down at the sad, pathetic excuse of a cake. Hard to see all the time, energy and love that went into it when it drooped so pitifully.

“It looks like shit.” He smirked.

“I should’ve just bought one,” You sighed, remembering how pretty all the cakes had been on the online websites you were going to order from before you had the brilliant idea to bake one yourself. Hell, even the cute little cupcakes in the coffee shop you went to each morning looked better than this.

“Nah,” Bakugou shook his head, “It’s perfect.”

It was noon by the time Bakugou had decided to pick the phone up to answer one of his mothers numerous calls to him, eyeing the voicemails that she’d left which no doubt chastised him for not picking the phone up. He’d delete those later.

“Katsuki—” Her voice already had him closing his eyes and rubbing his temple as he settled back in his desk chair. Still better than paperwork— “How hard is it for a mother to wish her son a happy birthday. Don’t you forget that I’m the one who birthed you—”

“Yeah, yeah, Ma. I’m sorry,” He sighed, “Work’s been kickin’ my ass.”

“You shouldn’t be working on your birthday, anyway!” She continued, “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”

“I’ve got too much to do.” He didn’t. The paperwork could wait, and he didn’t have a patrol scheduled this week. His sidekicks eager to find their own positions in the hero rankings so they’d picked up all the available slots, leaving Bakugou in his office.

“All you ever do is work anymore, Katsuki.” She continued, “When are you coming to visit? Your father says he hasn’t heard from you in weeks.”

“I’ll come by soon.” Maybe. He thought.

“You should be spending less time working and more time settling down. You’re not a young man anymore, Katsuki.” Here it comes, “And I want grandchildren while I can still chase after them!”

He scoffed. Even when he was a child Mitsuki still hadn’t been able to catch up with him, but the thought of her running around after his kids had an unfamiliar warmth swirling in his chest.

“It must be lonely, son,” She continued, and for once he stopped to think about it.

“There is someone, Ma—” Bakugou smiled as his eyes looked towards the half eaten cake that sat on the edge of his desk.

If he could ever tell you.

[fernandopiastri28]

high for this ~ oscar piastri

Notes:

i am officially finished with holidays and back to school :/ so im going to be posting a lot less but i do have a few works just rotting in my drafts so i'll probably just be changing the names of characters and posting them. (not proof read so i apologise if there's any mistakes)

warnings: smut, weed, drug use, mdni

Oscar mindlessly lays sprawled out on his bed, his muscles aching from the gym earlier in the day. He tenderly rubs his hamstring, trying to nurse it back to not being too sore for his match tomorrow. 

He has some music playing as quietly as possible, a pulsing tune of some heavy rap. It’s not really to his taste, but he’s bored with his own playlists at the moment. His phone is near the foot of his outstretched left leg, while his right leg is tucked up towards his torso, his knee pointing high towards the ceiling. Both hands are hard at work around his right leg, his fingers pressing into the tough flesh.

He feels a buzz travel through his left foot as his nails dig into his skin. He makes a note to cut them. He hears the buzz too, this time over the sound of the music. He sits up awkwardly, wincing at the strain on his leg. Using his left hand, he picks up his phone and checks the two new messages he’s received. 

It’s Talia, unsurprisingly. She should be asleep, though, she promised him she’d start working on fixing her sleep schedule. He clicks the notifications, squinting to see the messages with the medical white lights flashing in his eyes in comparison to the darkened room.

tals🧡: you up?

tals🧡: do u wanna come over

Oscar shifts around in his bed so his back is pressed against a stack of pillows. He brings his hand away from his hamstring, ignoring the dull shoot of pain that runs up his leg once it loses his attention.  

They don’t do a lot of sneaking over to each other's houses, simply because they can see enough of one another during school days, so it isn’t anything essential. They get in all the kissing, cuddling, and make outs they want to during the day, so if she’s suggesting this, it means sex. 

Not necessarily just sex, anything within the umbrella of sexual activity. Oscar shifts his hips, trying to decide what he wants to do. They live pretty far from each other, meaning for him to sneak over, it's a 25-minute walk each way since he can’t just take the family car. It’s late—nearing midnight—and he’s sore. On the other hand, he’s horny.

And at Talia’s house, she doesn’t live with her parents. She lives with two of her close friends, skipped out on the college experience after her first year. Oscar didn’t get that luxury, much like his older sisters. Both of them lived at home for uni. But while she’s off now in France, he’s still a third year university student. Since her family won’t even be there, they don’t have to worry about being sneaky or quiet.

Oscar: Yeah. See you soon

He unplugs his phone and slips his feet into the pair of slides that are sitting at the foot of his bed. He opens his wardrobe, grazing his fingers over the line up of shirts that rest there. He grabs a graphic white t-shirt, wrestling it on. He cracks open his door, walking past his sister’s and the guest room, both vacant. His parents are on the level upstairs, so they can’t hear any disturbance he’s making. 

He settles for catching the bus instead, unwilling to walk up to an hour. He sits down in a row of empty seats, ducking his head down and popping an earbud in. There’s a scarce number of other people on the bus, two girls sitting close together, their heads spinning drunkenly. An old man, greying hair and a newspaper in his callused hands.

tals🧡: come thru window. sammy will bark otherwise.

Oscar replies with the hard thought out reply of a thumbs up before re-pocketing his phone, staring mindlessly out of the window at the dark surroundings that whip by. 

Oscar gets off at his stop 10 minutes later, and he’s the last person on the bus by that point. He approaches Talia’s house, not even bothering to go through the front door- Sammy would bark and wake the whole house up. He clicks open the gate, dragging it out only just enough to slip in. He walks across the side of the house, tapping on her bedroom window once he gets to it. He presses a hand to his pocket, making sure the pack of condoms he grabbed are still there.

The curtains swish open and Talia’s standing there, fiddling to get the window open. Once it's open, he feels a rush of cold air hitting him, accompanied by the smell of something almost like diesel. “Hey,” He grins as she leans down. 

She narrowly avoids the kiss he’s going for, giving him one on the corner of his mouth. “Sorry- god, it’s dark,” Her shadow rubs her eyes, reaching out a hand to help him in. 

Climbing in through the window isn’t a difficult task- just slightly uncomfortable. His crotch rubs against the window pane as he brings his second leg over into her room. Talia wraps her arms around his waist as soon as he’s inside. “Hi, Oscccc,” She looks up at him, her teeth gleaming white. 

Just as Oscar is about to reply, the petrol smell hits him even harder. He crinkles his nose, confused as to what it is. “Tals, what the hell have you been smoking in here?,” He laughs, his hands grabbing at her ass to get her to wrap her legs around his waist. His voice is thick with sarcasm, Talia is the furthest thing from a druggy possible.

“Weed,” She rubs her lips into his shoulder, mouthing at the fabric of her shirt. Her mouth is dry, barely wetting the cloth. Oscar’s eyebrows knit, tensing in confusion. “Got a joint, was bored,” She mumbles. 

He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. At the same time, it’s late- his mind is cloudy anyways. He looks past her, at her bed where there’s a metal tin and a joint laying on top of it. Explains the smell then. “Fuck Talia,” He lets out a deep breath, “Maddie and Amber can definitely smell it,” He groans.

Talia laughs, her voice thick and loopy. “Nah, they cleared out tonight so I could do this.” She pulls away from the embrace, tugging him after her by his shirt. She falls back against the bed, her eyes clearly red rimmed from the dim lighting over her bed. “Cmonnn Opie, wanna get stoned with you,”

It’s so strange to see her like this, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hot. It’s so unexpected, such a pleasant surprise from his usually wound up and rule following girlfriend. Oscar’s resistance weakens, the sight of her laying there- a goofy grin plastered across her voice is enough to make the strong man give in. 

He hovers over her on the bed, a knee on either side of her hips and a hand on either side of her head. “You’re insane,” His mouth meets red, puffy lips for a kiss. She’s hungry for it, bringing her hands up to his hair to tug him down. 

“More,” Talia begs, her voice breathy. Her pupils are huge and there's a spacey look in her eyes. Oscar teases her, shaking his head as he slightly resists kissing her any further than little pecks.

“I want a drag,” He whispers, reaching over her to where the blunt is precariously resting. He places it in between his lips, the bitter taste already seeping into his mouth. “Light it up,” He murmurs around the lump in his mouth. 

Her mouth and ears feel as if they’ve been packed with cotton, his voice is far away and just barely a noise. “You don’t know how to,” She giggles weakly, her fingers pinching the fabric of his shirt that hangs down onto her.

Oscar gets off of her, sitting against the head of her bed. His legs are spread, his body slumped down comfortably. “Teach me,” He pats the space in front of his lap, his eyes looking up through his lashes. Talia’s mind is foggy with weed, lust, and need. She’s willing to do anything. 

“Take this,” she pushes a plastic water bottle into one of his hands, already unscrewed and partially drunk. “You’re gonna cough a lot- the water will help with that,” she explains, leaning forward with her hands propped up on his quads, pushing the hem of his shorts higher up. 

She reaches over to where the bottle had been and her fingers feel numb as they wrap around the lighter. “You feel good?” She asks as he twists the joint around between his lips. He doesn’t quite know how to answer, it feels like a question for after he’s actually smoked it. He nods regardless, tensing his leg muscles under her hands.

“I’m gonna light it, okay?” Another question from her. Her voice is becoming harder to understand, the true effects of the weed settling into her. It’s bizarre to him, this whole situation. “And you just try to inhale as much as possible,” She waits for a nod of competency from him before continuing. “Don’t let it just rest in your throat- it’ll burn. If you can’t do a lot, just do it in small bits,” 

Oscar’s hand snakes behind her, resting on the small of her back. “Ready,” He mumbles awkwardly. She clicks down on the lighter and a flame flickers, wavering just below his nose. 

“Don’t stress it,” She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed and his nails are digging into the fabric of her shirt. It’s almost euphoric at first, then it’s hell. Heat fills his mouth and he’s coughing and wheezing. He did exhale- probably too much. 

He feels Talia’s hands all over him, her coldness contrasting against the warmth throbbing through himself. She takes the spliff from his mouth, sucking down on it herself. Oscar watches her hazily, his bottom lip tucked under teeth. 

“How long have you been doin’ this?” The words feel as if they’re not coming from him. Jesus, surely he’s not baked already. He feels the heavy weight of the joint being pushed between his lips again, his question seemingly going unanswered. 

He takes it, breathing it in again. He doesn’t let it rest in his throat, he focuses on the inhale. He doesn’t cough as much this time, but he still guzzles down what’s left in the bottle. 

They spend a few minutes alternating the spliff, blowing air into eachothers faces. The room reeks of weed and it’s boiling hot. He wipes the back of his neck with his hand, a line of sweat gathering there. She twists the hem of his shirt between her index and thumb, pulling it up slightly. She doesn’t need to ask- he takes it off for her. 

“I started when I first moved here,” She finally answers his question from earlier, dragging a thumb down his cheek, rubbing the back of his jawline. “I think one of Mads’ friends gave her a bunch because she was moving- couldn’t take ‘em. Us three smoked them one night, it was fun,” She mumbles. It means she’s only been doing it for about 3 years now. 

He tilts his head, resting it against a pillow. She presses the pad of her thumb into his bottom lip that he’s unconsciously pouting out- asking for either another drag or a kiss. “Wanted to introduce you,” Her lips turn into a smirk, her eyes half-lidded.

“And why’s that?” He teases, his other hand moving down to her ass. Talia looks to the side behind him, a knowing look on her face. She pulls herself into his lap, effectively straddling him.

“I wanted to get high,” She states plainly, “and when I’m high- I’m horny. Wanted to be like that with you,” Her eyes are bright and her cheeky are rosy. Oscar kisses her cheek, experimenting with how his mouth is getting drier and more uncomfortable. Once he feels some moisture returning, he kisses further along her jaw. 

She has the spliff in her mouth which forces him away from her mouth. He focuses on her jaw and neck, suckling near her collarbone. She moans, tugging his hair and effectively his head back up. She places the joint in his mouth again and pulls on the pillow behind him. He tilts his head enough for her to move it out of the way, leaving him laying down almost completely flat. 

 He watches dazily as she pulls her top off, leaving her in a lacy white bra. He reaches out, his fingers barely feeling her flesh. He knows he’s touching her, she’s making noises to confirm it. “ More , more , fuck ,” She’s begging, her voice so desperate. Oscar wishes he wasn’t so fucking spacey right now so he could see how wanton she was over him. 

He tips his head forward, looking past where smoke is burning into his eyes. He’s apparently not just touching her bra, he’s touching her fully exposed breast. He hasn’t realised up until this point that he’s actually hard. 

“Can I shotgun you?” She asks, her fingers snaking over his nipples. He whimpers at the touch and his mouth drops open around the blunt. He knows he’s out of it, but he’s consciously thinking enough to know that shotgunning is either claiming the front seat in a car, or piercing a beer can and then drinking it as fast as possible.

He settles with the assumption it must be the second one. He lols his head to the side, searching for where the beer is. “Yeah,” He hums, his hand dropping down over the edge of the bed and his hand swinging with the intention of hitting a can that isn’t actually there.

Talia laughs, tugging on his bicep. “Shotgun- I puff smoke into your mouth,” She explains, her voice all raspy from being so dry. Oscar licks over his teeth, his mouth still painfully dry. His mind feels empty, the only resounding thought is just talia, talia, talia. There are a few other ideas, sex stuff, nothing coming close to being as important as making her happy.

She leans forward, plucking the joint from his mouth. He gets a breath of fresh air and begins to gasp for it- a telltale sign he’s had too much in one go. He hollows his cheeks, cleaning the taste of smoke out of his mouth with spit. It’s a useless attempt as it’s already well stained.

She slides two fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his bottom teeth. She lays down on him, her legs still hooked around his hips and a hand pressing to the headboard above him. Their chests are pressing together, her boobs heavy on him. He stares at them, shamelessly, his cock getting even harder to the point he’s beginning to actually feel it. 

“Can you suck my cock?” His voice is strangled and on the verge of incoherency because of her digits pressing into his tongue. She nods, kissing the tip of his nose. Her other hand is still holding onto the spliff, just sliding it against her wettened bottom lip. She finally sucks down on it, her lips twisting around it to keep the smoke in.

His mouth opens out of instinct, his eyes going bright just thinking about her mouth. The second their lips meet and he feels a slow release of smoke into his mouth, he feels like he’s dying. His eyes roll back and he grips a hand to the back of her head, pushing their mouths into each other’s harder.

He’s kissing her like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. It’s disgustingly dirty, a combination of spit, teeth, tongues and far too much moaning. Being stoned apparently just makes him feel everything . His lips are on fire, his throat is on fire, his eyes are on fire, his dick is on fire. 

Their mouths pull apart, sticky from the remnants of lip gloss that Talia has on. He peppers her face with a few more kisses, desperate for the stinging burn. They look at each other for a few moments, a complete disconnect from the two of them and the rest of the world. 

“You still want it?” She’s semi sitting up now, her elbows resting on where his hips are poking out from his low sitting shorts. His mind goes blank at the question, unsure of what she could possibly asking.

“What?” He lets out a puff of air, his hand mindlessly travelling through her hair. She nudges low down on his abdomen with her nose, making a weird squeaking whine. 

“Suck you off,” She looks up at him, the green in her eyes barely just a thin ring around her blown up pupils. Oscar nods, shifting further down the bed. Her fingers hook into his waistband, an invitation. His eyes flicker shut, already wasted off the feeling of her hands tugging his shorts down. 

Cold air whacks into the tops of his thighs, the dark fluffs of hair standing up. Oscar doesn’t need to tell her what to do, it seems like every time she’s gotten baked before this has been spent with her preparing for this. 

Talia begins aimlessly mouthing at his crotch, licking and kissing over where the head is resting. Her mouth is wetter than his, seemingly soaked with saliva. He takes a drag from the blunt, his fingers retracting and stretching to scratch her head. She purrs at the motion, getting more eager around him. 

“Cmon princess,” Oscar murmurs, helping to slide his boxers down to mid thigh. He doesn’t wince or shiver when it meets the cold air as there’s barely any time for it to do so. The second he’s fully undressed, her warm mouth is engulfing his length. 

She bobs her head up and down, her lips tightening around his shaft and her cheeks hollowing for him. He’s pushing her head down without realising, the pressure is light but definitely suggestive. 

She doesn’t gag, just takes him further. He encourages her with a string of moans mindlessly escaping his mouth, mixed in with ‘ oh god, good girl’ and ‘that's perfect, princess, keep going’. He’ll smoke or eat edibles every weekend if this is how getting head feels like when he does.

Her nose presses into his crotch, her throat muscles working hard to accommodate the intrusion of him. He tries to touch her, help her get off while she’s giving him the blowjob he’s ever received but the way she’s lying with the rest of her body so far away, he settles for focusing the pleasure elsewhere.

He rubs his thumbs over her nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. She whimpers and whines, her moans choking into noises that sound like she’s crying. Her face is reddened and her hair is sweaty, her fringe plastered down to her forehead with sweat.

“Close, I’m close,” He twists some of her hair around his index, his middle finger tapping into the top of her hair. She looks up at him with glassy eyes and tensed eyebrows. 

“In me,” She gags around his length. She doesn’t need to ask twice. He fucks his hips up into her mouth, forcing a moan and a gag from the back of her throat as he releases into her. 

He feels spent, his body aching worse than it did back at home. 

She pulls off slowly, her lips oiled with spit and cum. Her neck muscles flicker with tension as she swallows it down. That’s new. She’s strictly been a ‘spitter’ to this very moment. He wipes a drop of cum off her lip and kisses her deep. He tastes himself in her mouth but there's hardly any recognition for it. He doesn’t care enough to be disgusted about it, nothing about kissing her is disgusting.

“You’re perfect,” He slips his tongue into her mouth, tugging her up to be laying on top of him. “Wanna make you feel good,” He moves his head, kissing down her neck.

Talia lets out a noise of confirmation, “please,” she whines burying her fingers against his scalp. From the awkward angle he’s at, he slips her pants down past her ass, her underwear at the same time. 

He rubs a finger over her wet hole, teasing it. She lets out a stifled whimper, burying her face further into Oscar’s chest. He slides the finger in slowly, watching the bits of her face that he can see intently. She’s shying away, forcing her face away from his view.

“You’re all shy now?” He teases, massaging one of her breasts with his palm. She doesn’t reply, just keens on him, desperate for more. He pushes his finger fully in, sliding it in and out. “Look at me, pretty,” He kisses her forehead, nudging the spot with his nose. 

She reluctantly looks up before snuggling into his neck. It’s a drastic difference from how she was only minutes earlier. He pushes a second finger in, knowing her all too well that she’s needy for it. She groans, scraping her teeth down along his shoulder.

He groans, throwing his head back. He knows what he’s doing, not needing to even look. He pushes in and out, deeper and just as controlled. Her walls tighten around him, her wetness slicking down over his palm and around his wrist. His thumb joins in, rubbing along her clit. 

“Oz,” it comes out all jagged and breathy. “Fuck- need to,” She can’t finish her sentences at this point, pushed so close to the edge. He gives her a whisper of allowance, his breath hot against her ear. 

“Come for me,” He instructs her, his thumb applying more pressure as he feels a gush of wetness spill down his occupied hand. She’s gasping, panting for air when it happens. His body is still trying to regain full senses from the weed, barely noticing how deep her nails are digging into his sides, leaving red crescent moons into his skin.

Once she’s come down from her high, Talia rolls onto the space next to him on the bed. They watch each other, laying on their sides as they share the joint. They puff smoke at each other, laughing over absolutely nothing. 

“You’re staying tonight?” Whether it's a statement or a question is unsure, just how she intended. Oscar cranes his head to where he can see the sun is peeking out and beginning to set. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay right here,” He hums as the two of them both nod off to a hazy, stoned induced sleep.

[miniwheat77]

Tipsy. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW Smut, unprotected p in v sex, public sex, Price is being rough ;), alcohol, this is really short. Been sitting in my drafts for some time (sorry if I missed any.)

“I’m thinking we all go out. As a celebration.” Soap smiles.

“Oh please, you’re just looking for a reason to get your hands on some tequila.” John mumbles.

“Whaaaat? I would never.” He pretends to look offended. He shakes his head. “Alright fine. For just an hour though, nothing crazy.” John mumbles. Once they’ve arrived back at base they gather everyone up and they’re walking down the streets to get to the small club. It was nice being here, nobody knew who they were when they were dressed normally. It was peaceful. An hour later, you’re nowhere to be found.

“Is she still out on the dance floor?” Captain Price looks at his watch. “Yeah probably. You’ll have to drag her away Captain.” He rolls his eyes. “Christ in heaven, I didn’t sign up for this.” He grumbles, standing up from his spot at the bar.

They know exactly how you get when you drink, so sending their Captain out to get you is going to be funny. Your Captain hadn’t seen it yet. He was always so uptight, never wanted to go out. They knew you can be pretty persuasive, maybe it’d help him lighten up.

He’s shoving through the crowd to get to you and when he runs into you, you’ve got a grin on your face, grasping his hand and pulling him into you. He laughs awkwardly, you’re very pushy. “Uh.. it’s time to head back now.” He mumbles, you’re dancing in front of him. “Nooo. Come on. We just got here.” You grasp his hand, spinning around.

His eyes widen as you back your hips into him, moving with the beat of the song.

The rest of the task force is witnessing it, Soap is trying not to laugh. “He’s gonna kill us for sending him out there.”

“Oh absolutely, but it’s good for the old man.”

They can see how rigid he’s gone when you back your hips up into him. They can’t help but laugh.

“Y-Y/N. Stop.” He spins you around, you pull him into you. “Oh come on Captain. Live a little.” You smile. He swallows hard at how forward you’re being. You’re drunk. He’s drunk too, had a little more bourbon than he should’ve. He can feel himself getting hard in his jeans, something he hadn’t felt in ages. He growls when you back up into him again. “Y/N..” he grits his teeth, face near your neck.

“So. How many push ups do you think he’s going to make us do?” Gaz asks.

“Good question. I bet we’re up early for extra drills.” Soap laughs. Taking another drink of his Tequila.

You let out a gasp, tilting your head back to rest on his chest, feeling him hardening against your ass. “Captain..” you smile. Grinding back into him. “You’re in a lot of trouble for this.” He breathes, rocking his hips into yours. By now, the crowd around you has you buried between them and nobody is focused on the way you’re rocking into him. He grasps a handful of your hair, tilting your head back. His breath is hot against your ear. “Bathroom. Now.” He growls. You bite your lip, watching him disappear into the crowd of people. You can feel yourself sobering up, nervous as you make your way for the bathroom.

“She’s gonna keep him out there a while, I say we check out this pool table.” Soap nods. They all agree, standing up and making their way over to it.

You push open the door seeing your Captain standing in front of the sink. Luckily it was a small one person bathroom. He makes his way over to you, locking the door and pushing you up against it. “You’re a bad fucking girl, making a fool of me like that.” He growls. You look up at him, eyes wide and you appear intimidated until a smile creeps onto your lips. “I can make it up to you Captain.” You breath. “Oh you will baby.” He growls. He spins you around, pushing your face into the wall and forcing you to arch your back. Pushing your dress up over your hips. He pulls your panties to the side, rubbing his fingers over your bare pussy.

“Fucking soaked.. such a fucking slut.” He breathes. He unzips his cargo pants, tugging them down far enough to expose his aching cock. His tip is blushing red and leaking precum from being teased for so long. He spits in his hand rubbing it over the entrance of your pussy, feeling you mewl into him. He rubs his cock back and fourth over you until you’re whining.

When you don’t expect it, he’s thrusting into you. A gasp leaves your lips and your hands are resting against the wall, wishing you could hang onto something as he starts his aching hard thrusts into your pussy. Gripping your hair hard and pulling you back to kiss him, resting his hand on your throat as he fucks into you. “Such a bad fucking girl. You like teasing me? Hm?”

“Yes- yes Captain!” You moan. “Mhm. I bet you do.”

“W-wanted you so bad.” You cry. Choking on sobs and cries as they leave your throat. “Yeah. I guess you got what you wanted hm.” He smiles. He wraps his hands around your waist, fucking into you and holding you tight. He hisses as you clench down on him, only now realizing just how long it’s been, how good you feel on him. “Fuck- gotta be quick before we get caught.” He breathes.

He pulls you back into him more, moving his fingers down between your legs and rubbing fast circles into your clit, you know you won’t last long. “Oh fuck- I’m gonna cum!” You whine, tilting your head back as he tugs on your hair once more. “Cum on my cock baby, yeah that’s it.” He growls. He’s right on the edge of his own orgasm, ready to let you have every bit of it. You pull away from him, and he growls. “What are you-“ you turn around to face him. “Wanna see you.” You breathe. He laughs, shaking his head. He grasps your thighs, lifting you up and pinning you to the wall behind you, a gasp leaving your lips at him manhandling you. His cock is slick with your orgasm still, making it easy for him to slide back into you. Hearing you moan. He pins your legs up, pressing his forehead to yours and thrusting into you, fast and hard. He’s reaching deeper places than before, growling as you start to claw at him.

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him tight as he cries out. “M’gonna cum.” He gasps. “Gonna fuckin cum baby- fuck.” He grits his teeth, hips stuttering to a stop as he finishes, crying out as he finishes. He holds you tight to him, panting as he comes down from his high.

He pants hard into your shoulder. “Fuck.. I’m sorry.” He breathes. Hearing you laugh. “For what?” You breath, pulling away. “I was rough.” He breathes. “I haven’t.. done anything like this in a long time, I couldn’t control myself.” He breathes. You say nothing, deciding to kiss him instead. When he lets you down off of him, he slides out of you with a groan. “Fuck..” he sighs. “We should get back out there, they’re probably wondering where we are.” He laughs awkwardly. “Probably.” You smile, sliding your dress back down.

The both of you emerge from the bathroom, thankful that nobody is waiting outside.

When the both of you approach the pool table, you’re getting glances. “Finally got her off the dance floor ah?”

“Yeah, she’s uh.. quite the party animal.” He laughs. Hearing you laugh. “Nah I think she just sobered up enough to be done.” He lies. “Right, we’re just about done with this game.” Soap laughs, turning back to the table. They don’t see the way your Captain squeezes your ass as he passes by, a quiet gasp leaving your lips.

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ WILD THING ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: filming a masterpiece came easy to you, despite how weak the material you were given to work with was. having to do it with someone you harbored such hate for is proving to be a little difficult. but she can simmer your spite with just a touch, can't she?

warnings: 70s au, 18+, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, sexual tension (??), mentions about the porn industry, pornstar!ellie, mentions of weed, weed usage, not proof-read

a/n: yet another reupload, haven't written an updated piece for ellie in a while but i just might after bringing back a shit ton of old works sitting in the drafts for you all to enjoy again ;)

“When I tell you that this is the best script to ever come into my hands, I mean it. But, all I’m saying is that we need some slight adjustments.” 

Glancing at the man in front of you, the twinge of hope that had developed within you just last week seemingly diminished, snuffed out with wet finger pads. You leaned back into the velvet red of the tiny seat, licking the top row of your pearly teeth, watching with low-lidded eyes as he waved his thick hands around — emphasizing how much he meant what he said. 

The sheen of sweat running down his forehead proved how harsh the heat was. More unbearable than usual as of late as the sun beamed with an orange hue through the glass pane of one of the many windows in the sizable van, mugginess forming in a thick cloud — mixing with the smoke from the lit joint between your ringed fingers. 

You crossed a leg over the other, the denim of your bell bottoms rubbing together, uncomfortably sticking to the bare skin beneath from the humidity. Guiding your fingers toward your mouth, you inhaled, listening to the crackle of the van radio as ‘White Room’ by Cream filled the tensed silence, happy toxins filling your cool mouth — the odd flavor combining with the peppermint gum that once twirled on the sides of your cheeks.

Humming, you shrugged. “Like what? Having a man fuck me instead of a woman?”  

A sheepish look came across his features, signaling that your words had made him just a tad disagreeable. You had to bite back the scoff that tried to force its way out of your mouth, shaking your head from side to side dramatically before pointing a manicured finger in his direction.

“You already know the type of shit I do, Paul.” The amused smile that painted your lips was once laced with malice. “I thought we were on the same page when you agreed to be my agent.” 

Paul was a bitter man. Then again, when aren’t men in general upset? Truthfully, you should’ve walked away from him the second you found his disgusting eyes raking up and down the expanse of your smooth legs, alcohol and a wrong impression exuding from his pores, violently washing over you in waves. He tried to chat you up but his words faltered when your eyes narrowed, the annoyance radiating off of your being at his very presence. 

As politely as you could, you told him to go fuck off — will all the disrespect in the world, of course. Eventually, he relented, but not before sliding a withered, folded paper card in your hands before leaving you to wallow alone. But alas, here you were, in the back of a fogged van on your way to film pornography. 

He put his palms up in defense, the buttons of his shirt halfway undone, giving you a visible view of curly chest hair in all its glory. Lifting the right corner of your lip, you grimaced, noting the way he frowned as soon as he saw your pained expression.

Sighing, he clapped his warm, sweaty palms together, figuring it’d be worth a shot to try once more. “I’m just putting my input out there, and -”

You interjected. “Where it isn’t needed. Thank you though.”

Narrowing his eyes, Paul waited until you sunk back into your seat, heaving out a heavy sigh before dragging a hand down his sweaty face. “Look, I know what I said about letting you do your thing with women, it’s what you’re comfortable with. But you’re audience is mainly men.” 

Bouncing your leg, you huffed, diverting your gaze to stare at something else other than him. Your nose hairs burned slightly from the scent and the stuffiness of the small area despite the small open window, it was suffocating. “Something I didn’t ask for. I do what I do for women.” 

“Obviously, but that’s not how they see it. They’re never going to see it that way. Might as well make money off of it … with someone like your audience.”

 Although he had a point, there was a part of you that could never give up on the very limited amount of queer women who enjoy what you do for their pleasure. You had once been in their shoes, scared of the consequences of touching yourself to the thought of women, guilt weighing down on your shoulders so heavily that you felt as if everyone had known exactly what you were into. It was something you had always been so cautious about — glancing at a pretty girl the wrong way, to bat your eyelashes at them as you so desperately wanted. 

The women you had been with had left you with empty sheets, and an even emptier heart, not ready to come to terms with the fact that you were exactly what they liked and not clean-shaven faces and strong-scented cologne. He was right. But, that’s not something you were willing to take with a grain of salt, nor give in like he so desperately wanted.

You took a long drag of the burning paper, reaching forward to snuff it out in the nearby ashtray on the floor before ultimately shaking your head side to side, tendrils of hair falling in front of your face, escaping the small bun you had created at the top of your head earlier. “I’ll take the risk and keep whoever’s filming with me.” 

Paul pursed his thin lips, poking his tongue out from in between to moisturize the dry flesh before nodding curtly, “Okay,” He sighed. “I guess we’re keeping Ellie.” 

At that, your eyebrows furrowed, the skin between them folding as you grew confused. The cogs in your head were overheating — and not just from the scorching heat. Paul knew your resentment toward the auburn-haired girl. Her freckled face sends the flesh of your lips to curl over your teeth in disgust for reasons unknown to everyone but you. It was a tension that always stuck like the strongest glue, hard to scrub off no matter how hard you tried.

 There was just something about her that made your heart fill with a type of emotion that you couldn’t decipher as something other than anger and spite. 

Ellie Williams.

The one person you seemingly weren’t able to get along with no matter how hard you tried. From the handful of small interactions you’ve had with the girl, she’s curt. A little bit of a bitch if anything but then again, so were you. Maybe that’s why the two of you were always going at it, words of hatred being spewed back and forth, metaphorically pushing one another’s chest, trying to see who could take things to a burning point, letting it boil over like a pot full of water on high heat. 

“I see that look on your face, mellow out.” 

You hadn’t noticed the way your nostrils were flared, the way your chest was rising up and down at a rapid pace, your breathing uneven and your hands balled into fists on either side of you. Closing your eyes, you opened your mouth to take a deep breath, letting the stale air fill your lungs before you exhaled, trying to center yourself. 

“I’m neat. Just lost my cool for a second there.” 

You glanced out the window next to him, your eyes darting to focus on any ounce of color you could spot behind the thin layer of dust that coated the outside glass. Taking in the stream of green grass that stretched as the van moved along the road, you sniffed. Paul followed your gaze, turning his torso to join your small viewing party of one. 

The rest of the ride was silent, the only sound reaching your ears, for the time being, was the quiet hum of the radio, the occasional squeak of the van when the driver would brake, and the silent mumbles that came from Paul’s mouth as he muttered quietly to himself. 

It wasn’t an ideal situation for you — having just Paul to guide you through an industry you knew only a handful about. Although the money was decent, you were thriving to achieve more with your life, looking at the porn industry as a last alternative to solve every problem that arose at every corner, chasing you down to tackle you, to beat you to a pulp. 

In a way, the green that would make its way into your greedy hands wasn’t going directly into your pockets. Instead, it was being handed to doctors at the local hospital for your mother’s care, as she had been diagnosed with some sort of terminal illness. Oh, how you loved her dearly, having been raised behind motel walls, the rent was barely paid, saltine crackers being shoved into your mouth ravenously, and inexpensive water being guzzled down your throat due to how thirsty you’d be.

 As you became older and your hair grew longer, the idea that your mother had tried everything she could with you carried on into everyday occurrences as you found yourself coming home with less than needed. It wasn’t until your friend, Jean, had come into your home, a joint and a bottle of Mateus Rose being shared between the two of you as you sat in the expanse of your small, crowded living room that you realized just how serious she was about what she was saying. 

“I know a couple of these fellas down in the city, they’re easy to convince if you bat your eyelashes a little.” She had said it as if it was the simplest thing in the world, and it was. Just for all the wrong reasons. After that, she moved somewhere deep in the valleys of Los Angeles and you haven’t heard from her since. You supposed she was doing well for herself though, having seen her in the papers a couple of weeks ago on your way to the designated filing studio for the day, stepping backward in your heeled boots, grabbing it from the stand much to the dismay of the man who was selling them. 

You were surprised, to say the least, eyes scanning across the big, bold black print. She had gotten herself in the papers for all the wrong reasons, destroying everything she had built for herself in the blink of an eye as soon as she had cheated on her millionaire husband with an even more rich, married man. You remembered the way your eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion and the ‘o’ your jaw had dropped into, the cigarette in your hand long forgotten and burning between your fingers. 

You couldn’t help but feel bad for her, your chest hurting at that path that she had chosen for herself although you weren’t one to judge considering what you were doing for money wasn’t proper either. She was on a better lane than you, trading her dingy apartment for a nice typical picket fence house in the hills, her handmade craft bracelets for pearls, and her bell bottoms for posh dresses. All that aside, she was a nice girl. 

The van came to a harsh stop, jolting forward just enough that it made you shift in your seat, and it was then that you paid special attention to the knot that had formed in your stomach. The uncomfortable feeling caused your face to scrunch up, the expression disappearing as soon as Paul looked in your direction with a smile on his stupid fucking face. 

“You ready, kid?” 

Shrugging, you licked your lips, cocking your head to the side before heaving a dramatic sigh, “I guess so.” 

Rolling his eyes, Paul nodded his head toward the doors of the van, silently telling you to join him in the outside world, figuring that fresh air would do you some good and ease the nerves along with the high you were experiencing. As the doors opened from the other side, the hairs on your arms raised from the slight breeze that the warm air brought, the sun glowing directly into your eyes, causing you to squint. 

Bringing your hands up to cover your face, you breathed out through your nose, blinking rapidly once — twice, the strain that had formed due to the light difference created a dull throb to go along with it. 

“Are you fucking serious, Jeff?” Once that voice reached your ears, you raised your head and immediately came face to face with the one person you were dreading to even glance at. She looked good, that was something you couldn’t deny. The glowing daylight behind her created a halo that made her short auburn hair shine just a little brighter, the freckles on her skin more visible in the Wyoming sun.

The expression that swirled in her green eyes wasn’t something you had the opportunity to decipher as she had turned away from you in an instant. 

Your eyes shamelessly roamed down what part of her chest was visible to you, noticing the white, collared button-down she wore; the first couple of buttons undone leaving her collarbone exposed, a thin layer of sweat forming between her sternum. Loose, boot-cut jeans hugged her hips. Her fingers looped through the belt holes causing the tucked shirt to ruffle slightly, a wrinkle embedding itself into the fabric.

Interacting with her was inevitable and you internally slapped yourself for letting something so stupid bounce across your brain. You were making an adult film with her after all. 

“Jeez, it’s just me, no need to get yourself wet.” She glanced back at you momentarily before averting her gaze once more, leaving you to narrow your eyes as you slid out of the van, stretching your legs. 

You bit back a groan at the sensation of releasing all the built-up tension and ache from sitting for so long, having come from Montana to Jackson, a grueling six-and-a-half-hour drive. The fresh air was nice, so you basked in every second of it before you would have to return to an inside setting again. 

The thought of it sent your mind reeling again, the small pang of nervousness creeping back up onto you in the form of an itch on your elbow that you scratched with your short fingernails, the skin there dry and in desperate need of hydration. 

“I’m not starting with you.” She stated, voice gruff and low as she tapped one of her polished, black pointed-toe boots on the dry dirt beneath her, the leather creasing as she did so with a cigarette in between her right fingers. You could tell she was growing annoyed, and a devious smirk tugged at the corners of your lips before you plucked it out of her fingers, putting it toward your lips to take a drag. 

From your peripheral vision, you could see her point the flesh of her lips in a frown, shaking her head slightly. It took you a fraction of a second to decide that starting a conversation with her wasn’t what you wanted to do, especially watching the way Jeff, her manager, interacted with yours, his jaw tense and teeth grinding together behind his thin lips. The sky was getting darker, the bright blue that was there mere moments ago being stained with a salmon pink, a tinge of sherbet orange below the horizon. The grass around the property was short, thriving with life, and as green as ever with different arrays of flowers, colorful and swaying in the wind.

It felt peaceful, and serene almost until the thought of what you were here for jumped out at you. 

Tapping the butt of the cigarette, you ashed it, watching as it fell an inch away from your boot, pulling it to the entrance of your lips before taking another drag, and exhaling loudly. 

Swaying slightly from side to side, Ellie watched as Paul and Jeff continued to argue, turning to you, waiting until you cocked your head in her direction at her outstretched palm. 

“What?”

She pointed a ringed finger at half of the stick still in your grasp. “Since we’re sharing now apparently, at least let me take a couple of drags too.” 

Huffing, you extended it out to her, snatching your hand back across your chest once she took it from you. “You don’t have a pack of your own?”

“Obviously not or the thought of taking yours would’ve never crossed my mind.”  Running a hand through your hair, you felt the warmness of your tongue against your bottom lip as you licked the layer of dry skin there. The silence that followed after was thick, suffocating almost until you decided with the last shred of dignity you had. “So, what’d you think of the script?”

Turning your body in her direction, you quickly scanned her up and down, taking in the way she shrugged in response before inhaling again. “It was alright, nothing worth getting excited over. Can’t expect much when it’s written by who it’s written by.”

Raising your eyebrows, you silently agreed by nodding your head, knowing exactly what she meant without her having to say too much. Troy, the man who wrote the majority of your scripts, was a creep. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that most of the men in this line of work were as weird as could be, especially when working with women such as yourself who found comfort in the arms of another woman and not a man. 

“Yeah, It didn’t make much sense but no one’s watching for the plot, I guess.” 

Ellie snorted, flicking the cigarette on the ground, snuffing it out with the sole of her shoe, and rubbing at the back of her neck with a hand after. “Yeah.” She nodded, looking off into the distance for a couple of seconds before scanning your face, her gaze lingering on your lips a little too long before they moved again. 

Standing without a word being spoken was the most comfortable silence you had ever felt in a while, so you took the peace to your advantage, your rapid heart slowing down its pace the longer you stood next to her, the wind carrying the scent of pine and cigarettes from her clothing into your nostrils, exciting your nose hairs.

The sound of soles crunching beneath stray rocks and rubble caused you to look up at Jeff and Paul through your lashes, observing how they looked at each other and then back at you. 

Clapping his hands together, Jeff pointed his thumbs over his shoulders, gesturing to the lone house on the land, his brown eyes bouncing between the two of you. 

“Okay, let’s start filmin’.” Turning on his heel, he extended the distance between you three, leaving you to catch follow quickly, the lids of your eyes shutting slowly before fluttering open again. Walking through the wide door, you found three other people gathered around a patterned sofa, their talking coming to a pause as soon as you had walked through the frame of the front door, Ellie right behind. Arnold, the cameraman seemed to be everywhere, and he was a bit of a creep if you were being honest but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. You’ve had your fair share of men being openly odd, sparking weariness within you, and raising bright red flags. Jared was the sound guy, a ribbon microphone practically always glued to the tips of his fingers every time you saw him — and that was often. 

Arnold was the first one to speak, his dark eyes swirling with happiness, a haze of drunkness in them as well. Figures. “Never thought I’d see the day where the two of you were close willingly.” 

Wiggling a finger at you and Ellie, he balanced his camera in another hand, the sound of the door shutting grasping his attention momentarily, zeroing in on Ellie when he had focused again. 

When he had opened his shit-hole of a mouth again, you had tuned him out, eyes locking onto the hardwood beneath your shoes as he explained the little plot of the short movie. Ellie was to play the ‘man of the house’ as Troy had called it, and you were the stunning wife of course, having to cook a pretend dinner and prep the dining table for a romantic night for two before the stares and touches grew heavy with need. The sex scene would take place on the island countertop in the kitchen after you had finished washing dishes. 

Filming was difficult, with time being lost from the handful of times that you and Ellie had bickered about hand placements and the way you were supposed to feverishly lock lips, which had everyone in the room in a sour mood, the negativity spreading within you as Ellie had kissed you harshly during one scene, knocking her front teeth into yours. You had yanked your head back, running your tongue across your left tooth as it throbbed slightly, not intending to shove her as far as you did, and of course, that action elicited a bunch of curses from her and a small ‘fuck, I’m sorry it was an accident.’

In hindsight, your response should’ve been a little more respectful considering that she had apologized but as she put her lips to the skin of your neck, right below your ear, it swirled out of your mind, the words that rose out of your throat being a jumbled mess of moans as she sucked at a certain spot. 

The dull throb between your thighs made you wrap your legs around her waist, creating more friction as the material of her jeans rubbed deliciously against your clothed clit. If there was one thing about Ellie that you were certain of, it was that she knew how to touch a woman, to get them flustered, to have them writhing under her touch, to make them want more.

“So beautiful. Why are you sittin’ all shy, baby?” It was as if everyone else in the room had disappeared, disintegrating into thin air, the camera a couple of feet away from you forgotten as you stared at her, chest rising and falling quickly as your heart started to beat rapidly against your ribcage. Whether that was part of the script or not was something that crossed your mind for a couple of seconds as you stared at her lips, shaking your head a moment after.

“M’ not shy.” 

Grabbing the apples of her cheeks with the palm of your hands, you cupped her face, bringing her lips closer to yours once more, your hot breath mixing with hers as you desperately clutched the back of her shirt into your fingers, knuckles growing white as your nails clawed crescent shapes into her back.

Ellie hummed against you, pulling her head back, a string of saliva stretching between the both of you before she wiped at it with the back of her hand, the way she held eye contact the whole time causing you to rub your thighs together. “Mhm, not shy but very eager.”

It was a low whisper that brought the hairs on your arms to raise slowly, the warm feeling of her fingers tapping the fat of your thighs evoking a small, unintentional whine from you. 

You didn’t care if this wasn’t a part of the script, and neither did everyone else in the room as they all waited with bated breath, their bodies rigid and tension-filled, waiting for your response. 

“Only this eager for you.”

It was true. Your experience with her was by far the best of your career and she didn’t even take unbutton your pants yet, leaving the slick that had pooled in the center of your pants, staining the crotch area, your cheeks developing a rosy tint at how embarrassingly horny you were. 

The freckled girl noticed this, a smirk pulling at her mouth as she leaned closer to you, green eyes fogged with the desperate need to please you, to have you screaming her name until you weren’t able to do so. The hotness of her breath, as it passed through her teeth, made you shudder, your manicured fingers going to rest at the waistband of her jeans, right above the small of her back. 

“You have no idea what you just started, sweetheart.” 

With that, she hastily reached for the button of your jeans, popping them open, her fingers guiding themselves onto your bare cunt, air passing through your teeth as you hissed, the coolness of her ringed fingers coming in contact with your warm flesh. 

The dry chuckle that passed her lips was laced with humor, your lack of underwear surprising her although it wasn’t written on her flushed face. “And you aren’t wearing anything else. You’re trying to reel me in, huh?” 

“Ah, shit.”

“So wet and I only just started touching you.” She drawled, her left arm wrapping around your waist to scoot you to the edge of the green laminate countertop, placing the pad of her thumb on your bud, moving it in slow circles. You clenched onto nothing, bucking your hips into her hand, urging her to press down harder. 

She complied, working her finger against you so roughly, that the slight pinch of pain one of her many rings caused as it skimmed across one of your folds spiraled into pleasure. She rested her forehead against yours, the tips of your noses touching as she continued to please your aching cunt. Biting down on your lip, a muffled moan escaped causing your jaw to grow tense at the knot that had formed in the expanse of your stomach. 

“Does it feel good, baby?” 

Nodding your head, you lifted your hips, helping her tug your jeans off fully, exposing the smooth, moisturized skin of your legs, the scratchy denim pooling at your ankles. 

Ellie removed her hand, the sudden rush of air on your exposed flesh causing an involuntary arch in your lower back. The heat of her green eyes burning at your lower half had sent adrenaline coursing through every vein in your body, even more so when you had whined. 

“Such a pretty pussy.” 

Her praises had set your skin on fire, the aching throb becoming unbearable, your arousal leaking from you once more as she shoved a finger inside of you with the help of your wetness, one of the tight rings stretching you out just an inch more. One of your sweaty palms slapped against the counter, the back of your head coming in contact with a wooden cabinet, a small ‘thud’ accompanying the action. 

Without warning, she started pumping the lone finger in and out, flexing in between your walls, enjoying the expression on your face — the way it contorted with pleasure when she’d hit a certain spot inside of you that had you silently mumbling with closed eyes, curses spilling from your lips in a low chant.

Your hard nipples were visible through the thin shirt that covered your chest, and she couldn’t stop her other hand as it weaved its way under the end of your shirt, flicking one of them harshly, a sting of pain in its wake. “Fuck.” You sighed, breath stuttering as you felt another finger slide past your hole. 

With flared nostrils, you cocked your head to the side as her lips started to suck at your neck, teeth grazing across your throat, a thin layer of saliva snailing up your neck as the skin grew red and raw, the blood cells beneath rising to the surface at the suction. 

Your entire body was hot, flushed with sweat as she pleased you as if you were the last person she’d ever have the privilege of laying her godly hands upon. You were growing addicted to her touch — as wrong as it was because your dislike for her was starting to lessen just a bit. Her fingers felt amazing, the way they curled into you, not too much but not too little that it didn’t satisfy you when it was the exact opposite. 

In truth, you almost didn’t recognize the sensation that came to you as it had grown foreign to you, along with the butterflies that would flutter within your stomach as other’s touches had rendered you numb. Not Ellie’s though. Never hers. 

With that one lingering thought, a sob rippled through your throat as you clenched tightly around her fingers, the muscles in your stomach flexing as you came, legs shaking around her frame. 

There wasn’t any time to waste, camera film was expensive after all. 

You were numb, breathing heavy and hair disheveled, eyes wide and lips parted as Ellie sunk to her knees, curling her hands under your thighs only to rest them on your lower stomach, a trail of hot, sloppy kisses being left behind starting from your knee. 

When her warm tongue cupped over you, you were a goner, toes curling within the space of your boots, the sound of her lapping at your juices sinful as she sucked greedily. 

Internally slapping yourself, you concluded that all the past bickering and sexual tension throughout the many seasons all led up to this — the best head you had ever received in your life and she had just swiped her tongue once. 

“Please, please.” You begged pathetically, hands weaving through her short auburn hair, tugging to one side harshly, causing her to moan against you. 

“Please what?” She cooed, urging you to use your words even though you were a sobbing mess. 

“Please let me feel you, I want your tongue.” 

The smile she gave you was lazy, and devious as the flesh of her lips pulled back into a smile. 

“All you had to do was ask, darlin'.'”

[writtenfangirl]

The Light

In which Benedict Bridgerton counts the ways he loves you.

I've had this idea for a while and this draft has been sitting in my draft folders for lord knows how long but I finally decided to publish it! After initially reading the Bridgerton books, I want the world to know that Benedict has always been my favorite Bridgerton brother because I relate to him the most.

Epilogue

I. In the quiet moments

Saturday morning was always quiet in Aubrey Hall, Benedict’s childhood home. With Aubrey Hall in the throes of summer, that meant the Y/L/N’s stayed with them. Her mother’s dearest friend had always been Y/M/N, having debut in society together. They had made it their tradition to visit one another during the summer and where Y/M/N, it usually meant Y/N followed. Y/N, who was Y/M/N’s only child with her husband, Y/F/N. She was two years younger than Benedict but they had always been close. 

He was always the first one up, and as the cook and the maids prepare breakfast, he would often sneak away towards Y/N’s room. He knew propriety dictates that such an action was uncouth but he was a child and Y/N was his best friend and so he snuck in anyway. 

He knocked first. That secret knock they devised just last summer so the person on the other side knew that it was them. 

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

The door swung open, as if already expecting him. Y/N was already awake and dressed, her hair tied up in a ribbon, her dress clean and pressed. Though Y/N only came to visit Aubrey Hall during the summers, the times that she did were some of Benedict’s favorites and they had their routine down to a tee. 

“What are we doing today, Benedict?” Y/N asked, as she did every morning. 

“We can go visit the lake and see how many animals we can see in the clouds in the sky!”

“Okay!” Y/N said with a childish giggle. 

Benedict gripped her hand, leading Y/N out of her room, past the gardens and towards the lake that bordered their estate. 

They spent the morning watching the sky, their backs pressed against the grass, giggles emanating from the duo as they argued about whether that cloud looked like a frog or a bunny. Their hands were still tightly held within each other’s grasp and they didn’t let go until they were called to breakfast and Benedict dared Y/N to race him back to the manor. 

He knew then that he loved her. She was his best friend and best friends loved each other no matter what.

II. In the loud moments

Benedict’s family was considerably large and though he loved his siblings dearly, he knew that there was never any quiet when it came with them. 

They were loud. And boisterous. Unless they had guests, dinners with the Bridgertons usually ended with dinner being flung across the table. Y/N’s mother had arrived sick with a head cold and had requested to have dinner in her room alone, leaving Y/N to have dinner with the Bridgertons all and on her own. And though Y/N was not a Bridgerton, Benedict knew how much the Bridgertons loved her, especially because she was privy to their chaos. 

Chaos, most especially seen in Aubrey Hall, where 10 year old Anthony had begun sending their father, Edmund, mischievous looks.

Violet, as if sensing the impending doom, had a warning tone already ready. “Anthony Bridgerton, don’t you dare.”

But Anthony paid his mother no heed. Instead, a mischievous smirk stretched across his face before he jumped on the table and loudly screamed, “FOOD FIGHT!” before proceeding to ham fist the mash potatoes, flinging it towards Colin’s open mouth.

Chaos irrupted from the table as everyone, including Benedict’s parents took their own food, flinging it across the other side. Benedict’s mother was laughing in glee despite her previous protestations and Edmund had declared himself Violet’s knight in shining armor, shielding her from the onslaught of lamb stew that Colin threw their way.

Almost instinctively, Benedict felt Y/N’s hand grip his own, pulling him down towards her before Daphne, who was but two and couldn’t possibly understand what was going on but could understand that fun was being had, could hit him with the mashed peas on her plate. 

Then and there, Benedict knew he loved Y/N. It would be difficult not to love her when she would willingly sacrifice her favorite dress to spare Benedict the green stains of mashed peas.

III. In the moments you do not share

He missed Y/N, terribly so. Being away to Eton meant he didn’t see Y/N nearly as much as he wanted to and though they wrote each other letters, it just did not suffice. 

She had been a constant in his life and her sudden absence felt like a rock wedged between his ribs where his heart should be. 

He enjoyed his time at Eton, he truly did. They were schoolboys and youth was their elixir of joy. It meant living life free of inhibitions, gambling and drinking and finding women to fill their beds. But none of his friends could ever hope to replace Y/N’s presence. With Y/N there was no bravado, no explanation. Just unhurried conversation and fun he could remember tomorrow. 

He couldn’t wait to see her and his much needed vacation in a week was enough to give Benedict a spring in his step. 

Today also happened to be mail day and though he knew he was going to see his best friend in a week, he still anticipated her weekly letter. 

With the letter slipped into his dorm at the end of the day, he quickly sliced through the wax that bore Y/N’s family crest, reading through its content. 

My dearest, Benedict,

I suspect that by the time you receive this letter, the time between us seeing each other will have considerably shortened. I miss you terribly. Summers in Aubrey Hall are simply not the same without you. Colin has turned whiny waiting for his two older brothers to come home and spend the summer with him. Daphne is growing taller by the day and Eloise has begun to learn how to read. She and Francesca are joined by the hip everyday. Your mother and father are as splendid as always and I suspect a Bridgerton whose name begins with G will soon join us.

I am quite alright though I am shamed to admit how terribly I’ve missed my greatest friend. My mother and father are also splendid as is the rest of my family. Do come home in one piece. I’m afraid I may go slowly mad with Colin pestering me everyday. 

The Light of Your Life, Y/N Y/L/N

Y/N’s words brought him all the comfort he needed. He loved his time in Eton but he could not deny it’s loneliness. His friends couldn’t understand how it is he could possibly miss his family but theirs was a strange existence. His parents valued love above all else and he had grown up alongside his siblings in a home full of love and laughter. 

And he knew then that he loved Y/N for her ability to assure him, to lull him into a calm that could keep his mood afloat for days.

IV. In the moments you do share

Oh how he missed her. He missed the way Y/N’s H/C hair whips through the wind, carrying with her heady scent. He missed her twinkling laughter, her teasing smile. He especially missed the feel of her hand grasped around his. 

They were growing up and though Benedict knew that their youth would still be with them, there was a certain kind of melancholy that came with the realization that things will not always be as they were. Y/N had informed him that with her debut to society next year, she would not be able to spend the summers with him. He couldn’t imagine Y/N married to anyone, let alone married to anyone unworthy of her and he had been insistent that he spent next year’s summer with her.

“Y/N, light of my life,” he said, his tone serious but his eyes lit with jest. He’d begun calling her that after he heard his father call his mother the light of his life and he knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Y/N was the light of his life. He pulled them to a stop, Aubrey Hall looming in front of them despite being a great distance away.

“Yes, Benedict, light of my life?” She said demurely. 

“Do you think you can make me a promise?”

“What promise is that?”

“You won’t marry someone unworthy of you.”

At that, she laughed. “If I have any say about it I shan’t marry at all. But I’ve held it off as long as I can. I’m twenty one now and mother is at her wits end.” But her eyes grew serious and somber, her laughter slipping from her lips. She looked at him as though she knew deeply, truly, what was inside Benedict’s heart. He reached for her, felt the silky lock of hair that fell from her chignon, her breath that feathered across his wrist as he tucked the strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes were fully trained on her face, at the way her lashes swept across her cheeks, the red flush that crept up her neck that Benedict knew would take him weeks to shade match. He wouldn’t deign call her cheeks rosy. She would hate him for comparing her to something so common.

If Benedict were to paint her at this moment, he’d call it Summer’s Embrace. It captured her beauty, the ephemerality of today.

He could feel the heat of her and it was as if that very heat burrowed itself within him, finding a home in his heart. When she spoke again, her words were but a whisper, the spoken promise of planets swearing fealty to their stars. “I swear to you, Benedict. I will not marry someone who is not worthy of me.”

And with her promise, it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could feel the rush of air in his lungs mixed with her heady scent, the scent of childhood and misty early mornings. He felt her hand squeeze his own in earnest and Benedict knew that she would keep her promise forever if she could. He loved her then, for that promise. How could he not love the way she loved herself? Fiercely and with a protectiveness that Benedict knew was reserved for him and only him.

V. In the soft moments

There were no nights as special as rainy nights and none were as special as the ones he got to share with Y/N.

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock. 

The door flung open, revealing Y/N. Her E/C were shiny with excitement, her face positively glowing. 

She was wearing her simplest dress, covered only by a black frock that Benedict had leant her once that she refused to return. Her feet was clad in her finest riding boots and Benedict nearly had to clamp his own mouth shut to keep from rejoicing. 

“It’s raining,” Benedict noted with a grin. 

“I gathered as much,” Y/N said with a grin as equally mischievous as his. 

“It would be the responsible thing to stay indoors. You are to leave for London tomorrow and I imagine that such a long journey may end in you getting a head cold.“

“Benedict, light of my life, when have we ever been responsible?” She looked at up at him, grinning like the devil. 

And before the both of them lost their nerve, Benedict grabbed Y/N’s hand, sneaking them down the stairs and past the gardens, letting the rain wash over them. 

Oh he adored the rain’s ability to wash away everything. And he knew how much Y/N loved the rain too. How she adored letting it fall on her skin as she jumped over puddles and danced on the wet grass.

Her long hair stuck to her forehead, giving her the appearance of a drowned cat but her wide smile more than made up for it. Even in the darkness that smile could light up a thousand lanterns and Benedict never found her more beautiful than she looked now. 

A sudden feeling seized him and before cowardice could choke it down, he was already pulling her to him. “Y/N, I must tell you something,” Benedict yelled over the din of the rain, catching her chin between his fingers. Drops of rain were caught between her lashes, her breath coming out in pants between her lips. 

Goddess Divine. That’s what he’d call this painting of her. 

“What is it, Benedict?”

He swallowed. An invisible force had consumed him, wrenching the words from his lips before he could stop them. “I love you.”

Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open in surprise. “W-what?”

“I love you,” he repeated, courage surging within him, his previous hesitancy evaporating like steam. His hand reached for hers almost instinctively. He felt her warmth, the way the heat of her hand seemed to jolt through his body like static. “Most ardently. In every way a man could love a woman, I love you. You are truly the light of my life and without you, I am pitched in darkness. You are the cracks in my heart but also balm soothes that it. I love you, Y/N. I have spent years of my life loving you in secret and I can bear it no more. I love you.”

He could see it in her eyes, the love she bore for him. It was the same love he felt for her, a garden in full bloom. But the words that followed her were not the words he thought he’d hear. “Benedict, I have been promised to someone else.”

VI. In the hard moments

“What?”

“I have no choice,” Y/N’s voice was cracking as hard as his heart. “My father has promised my hand to another. My debut, it is a farce, meant only to assuage his guilt for selling his only daughter. I am to be married to the Duke of Albany before the season ends and then he will ship me away to the colonies. He sold me to the Duke to pay off his debts. I have no dowry, no money. I thought to spend my last summer with the people who loved me, truly loved me. The Bridgertons have treated me as their own family. You have treated me as your own. Benedict, please I am so sorry.” She was rambling now, that much he could see. She always did that whenever she was close to crying, as if the fast words would somehow catch her tears before they fell.

He should say something, he knew he should but the words stuck to his throat like honey. It was all too much in too little time. Married? Shipped to the colonies? Benedict thought he had more time. More time to charm her parents and offer himself as a candidate for her hand in marriage. He’d already had every intention of marrying her but now his plans had turned to ash in front of his eyes. 

“This was a mistake,” Y/N muttered pulling her hand away his. “I never should’ve come. I should’ve left like my father had suggested. He was right. This is all too hard.“

Thunder clashed like rolling drums in the sky. What has once been a pleasant pitter-patter of rain had turned into a torrential downpour, soaking Benedict to the bone. Any warmth he had felt had dissipated, leaving him shivering. 

Before Benedict could stop her, Y/N was already racing towards Aubrey Hall, leaving Benedict with the bitter taste of heartbreak in his tongue.

VII. In the moments they shared with others

He was a fool. A right bloody fool who didn’t deserve her.

How could he have let her slipped free so easily? When Benedict had finally come to his senses, Y/N had already fled Aubrey Hall, taking her carriage and lady’s maid with her. Before Benedict could hope to give chase, Anthony had stopped him, citing that the heavy rain had made the roads treacherous. 

“All the more reason to chase after her!” Benedict bellowed, his insides twisted in worry. He was still dripping wet from the rain, the roaring fire doing nothing to dry him off. “If something were to happen to her, I could never forgive myself.”

“Dearest, you must calm yourself,” Violet said in a soothing voice. “Y/N is strong. She is more than capable of taking care of herself.”

“You don’t understand, Mama,” Benedict said clearly still agitated. “She is to marry!”

“It is her first season and she hasn’t even debuted yet,” Anthony said with a furrowed brow. 

“She is engaged to be married to the Duke of Albany. He means to live in the colonies and take her with him. He’s going to take away my Y/N. Mama, Anthony, please we must make haste and stop them.” He was begging now but he didn’t care. He’d beg on the very streets of London if it meant stopping Y/N’s wedding.

“The Duke of Albany’s 30 years her senior!” Anthony protested. “Her father couldn’t possible mean to marry her off to that odious man!”

“Hush, my darling,” Violet said as she pulled Benedict into hug despite their large height difference and how wet he was. “When the rain abates, I will join you myself in stopping their wedding.”

“Mama, I love her. I cannot. I—“

“I know,” Violet soothed. “It will be alright, Benedict. You shall see.”

But he couldn’t see. If Y/N reaches London, he knew in his heart of hearts that she would marry the Duke and sail off to the colonies without saying good bye. He knew it to be true because it is what Y/N would believe to be the best for them. If she left for the colonies, Benedict would never see her again and this would ease the heartbreak. At least, this is what she was likely telling herself to assuage her guilt. 

But Y/N didn’t know how much affection Benedict carried in his heart for her. He could never love another woman so long as she breathed and even if she were to pass before him, she would hold his heart in her bones forever. 

“I have to go get her.” Benedict declared, ripping himself away from his mother’s embrace. 

Ignoring his brother’s cries, Benedict ran from the sitting room, towards the stables. Grim determination had consumed him, his thoughts focused on Y/N and only Y/N.

He’d go on horseback. It will be faster and he was a decent rider, he could catch up to her. He had to. 

“My lord,” the stablehand stammered upon seeing him. The smell of horses permeated his nose though it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. 

“Help me, please. Our fastest horse.” Benedict panted, his breath winded from his short run. 

“But, my lord, it is pouring. I can prepare the carriage—“

“No, I’ll be faster on horseback. Please do as I ask.”

The stablehand simply nodded and ran through the notions of preparing their fastest horse.

He heard his brother first before he saw him. 

“Benedict, do not be rash.” Anthony was now as wet as he was from the rain.

“I am going and you cannot hope to stop me.” Benedict barely spared his brother a glance. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”

“Then I shall go with you,” Anthony motioned to the stablehand to prepare another horse. 

“Follow after me if you’d like but as soon as my horse is finished, I will ride.”

The stablehand moved quickly, cinching belts and hoops in record time and it wasn’t long before Benedict was on the saddle, the stable doors banging open as his horse leapt through them.

The horse felt fast beneath him despite the rain and moved with the same urgency its rider felt. He would not be deterred. If he had to stop the wedding at the altar, then he will do so. He cared not for dowries or money and properties and his family was wealthy enough for both of them. All he cared about was her. 

It wasn’t long before he saw carriage lamps up ahead and he knew that it was Y/N. The carriage was moving at a languid pace, no doubt the driver was worried about a potential accident caused by the torrential downpour. 

It only served to spur Benedict on. 

“Stop!” Benedict yelled at the carriage.

It was as if God Himself was on his side. By some miracle, the driver heard him over the loud din of the rainfall. Benedict kicked at his heels as the carriage slowed, letting his horse ride just a little bit further than the four horses that pulled the carriage.

“Master Bridgerton,” The driver said, his eyes wide in surprise but Benedict paid him no mind. He dismounted from his horse before circling towards the door of the carriage. And then he knocked that secret knock they shared as children.

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

“Go away, Benedict.” Her voice was muffled through the door. The window’s curtain was drawn but he could see her vague silhouette as well as the silhouette of her maid. 

“You do not have to say anything. You do not even have to answer me. But I implore you to listen.”

When Y/N didn’t say anything further, he continued.

“I wish to marry you,” Benedict said, his voice strong despite his pounding heart. For once in his life, he spoke to Y/N from his heart, let the words drip from his tongue like honey. He didn’t care that they had an audience, that Anthony was approaching from his own horse, that Y/N’s maid was in the carriage with her and that her driver was looking at him as though he’d grown two heads. Right now, all he saw was her. “Do you understand me, Y/N? I wish to marry you. I care not for your dowry or your money, I care only for you. If you wish to never look at me again, say so at once and I shall depart and I will never share in your presence until the day I pass from this world. I will endure the pain and the heartbreak because I love you and I wish only for your happiness. You need only tell me that you do not feel the same for me.

“But if you find that you cannot live without me the way I cannot live without you, tell me so. Let us end our own miseries and be happy. You, who deserve happiness more than anyone else in this earth.”

Despite the loud din of the rain, Benedict’s world grew silent, focused. His attention was on the carriage and the carriage alone. He knew that if Y/N told him to leave, he would do so without a moment’s hesitation. He will ride on his horse and turn his back away from her and he will never see her again. 

But then, the knob turned slowly then all at once. The carriage door opened so fast, Benedict barely had time to jump out of the way before the door could hit him. 

Y/N’s face was illuminated by the carriage’s lamps. She was still wet, wearing the same simple dress snd frock she had been wearing, having left Aubrey Hall in such a rush that a puddle had pooled at her feet, one that her lady’s maid desperately tried to wipe away. 

But neither of them cared about that right now. An asteroid could crash from the heavens and obliterate the earth but their dust would stay in an embrace for the rest of eternity if they could. 

She made her way out of the carriage, ignoring her maid’s protestations and making her way in front of Benedict. Whatever parts of her body that dried by her time in the carriage was immediately soaked by the rain once again.

She looked up at him, her eyes almost twinkling. 

Venus on Earth would be the name of the next painting. Of that, Benedict was certain.

“I love you too,” Y/N whispered before grabbing his lapel and pulling him down to a kiss.

In front of all these witnesses no less!

Y/N’s lady’s maid gasped in surprise while the carriage driver and Anthony averted their eyes but Benedict didn’t care. He leaned into the kiss, relishing the taste of her. She tasted like rain, like misty mornings and the sweetness of youth. And their kiss was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’s kissed plenty of girls before but nothing and no one would ever compare to Y/N.

And when they pulled away, Y/N’s grin could only be described as incandescent.

“Now you two truly must marry,” Anthony said but there was no displeasure in his voice, only keen triumph, “lest Y/N’s father wants his daughter’s reputation in tatters. I will write to him tomorrow. Tonight I will write to the Archbishop of Canterbury for a special license and you two can wed before the week is out.”

“Thank you, brother,” Benedict said, finally feeling able to breathe.

He looked at Y/N, saw the triumph in her eyes. Y/N was one of the smartest people Benedict knew and though she knew kissing him would bring scandal nipping her heels, it would also force her father’s hand. The Duke of Albany wouldn’t want to marry Y/N if her reputation had been compromised.

It was no matter. To Benedict she was perfection and he wouldn’t have her any other way, tattered reputation or no.

“You are a bloody idiot, Benedict Bridgerton,” Y/N said but there was no malice in her voice. Just pure sprightly joy. “It took you this long to realize you loved me?”

He grinned, the kind of grin a man has when he knew his place in the world and his was beside her. “In truth, I fell in love with your fire long ago. Cowardice just seized me every time I felt the urge to tell you my feelings. But I do well and truly love you.”

“I love you, too.”

VIII. In their moments alone

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

Y/N’s door opened quickly, a strained smile on her face as she ushered Benedict in. Propriety dictated that their actions could only be deemed scandalous but Benedict didn’t care. He was marrying her tomorrow anyway. There was nothing and no one that could stop them.

It had been two days since the carriage incident and Y/N’s father had arrived on horseback to Aubrey Hall as soon as he’d received the missive.

“I have promised you to the Duke of Albany!” Her father had roared as soon as he managed to push his way through the butler, storming towards the sitting room where the Bridgerton family was having tea. Violet had the younger children ushered away from the confrontation, leaving only Y/N, Benedict, Anthony, and Colin.

“Who is older than even you, Father.” Y/N had said, the picture of serenity and calm. She was sitting on the chair closest to the window, the sun’s glow settling against her skin. She looked sublime. 

Ethereal Grace would be a befitting title for this painting.

“He is a Duke and 18th in line to inherit the British Crown! He is being sent to the colonies to govern. With his money, you will live a life even better than I could have ever provided for you as a baron!”

“I care not for his money, Father,” her voice had some heat to it now, “You sold me. Like some brood mare whose only purpose is to breed and pay off your debts!”

“I did not!” He sputtered. But shame coated him, his eyes nervously looking at the Bridgertons. While women in society were often betrothed without their consent, notions of selling were generally frowned upon. If word ever got out that Y/N’s father married her off for money, he would be ostracized by society. Even worse, if such word ever reached the King or Queen, he could be stripped of his peerage, becoming even more destitute than before. 

“I will be wed tomorrow to Benedict,” Y/N’s voice was hard now, all conviction and fire, “You cannot stop us. Anthony has acquired the special license and the Archbishop of Canterbury himself has agreed to marry us as a favor to Violet. You have come in vain.”

At that, Y/N’s father’s face turned thunderous. He took a menacing step towards her, one that had Benedict standing at attention, turning him into a protective shield. Her father eyed him distastefully and Benedict returned his venom. 

“You are making a terrible mistake. She has no dowry,” Her father hissed at him. “She has nothing.”

“She has me,” Benedict replied, his voice calm despite the rage simmering beneath his skin. If Y/N, despite all the pain and heartbreak wrought by this man, could continue to remain calm, then he shall do the same. “That is enough. She is enough.”

This time it was Anthony who spoke, his voice as hard as steel. “You will find, sir, that we care not for Y/N’s dowry, only of her happiness. Perhaps it is time you depart, before you do something you will regret. Colin, get the door.”

Y/N’s father’s fists turned white but just as Benedict thought he would swing, he turned and walked away. 

But before he could cross the threshold, Y/N called out to him, “Our wedding will be at noon tomorrow, Father. If you and mother would like to bear witness, it would bring me great joy.”

But Y/N’s father simply continued walking. 

It had broken Y/N’s heart, which is why Benedict came to her room that evening. 

He pulled her close, letting her sob for the first time since seeing her father. He knew that tomorrow will be the happiest day of their lives but for now, for tonight, Y/N was allowed to grieve. 

“I love you. I have never been prouder of you than when you stood up to your father,” Benedict said, tucking her head beneath his chin and pressing a chaste kiss on her head. “Everything will be alright, you’ll see.”

“Do you mind staying with me tonight?” Y/N asked with a sniffle, her voice hopeful.

Any other time, the word yes would have fallen from his lips like the water of a fountain. But if there was ever a time for Benedict to try and make her feel better, it was now. So rather than a simple yes, different words flew from his lips, teasing and accompanied with an affronted gasp b“Ms. Y/L/N, do you mean to compromise me? I am a gentleman! Unhand me, at once, you cur!”

Y/N gave him that look, the same look she always gave him when they were children and she knew Benedict was trying his best to cheer him up but, nevertheless, Y/N’s once somber expression lifted into her own mocking look of surprise as she wiped away her tears. “I will have you know, Mr. Bridgerton, that I am a lady! Your insinuations are greatly unfounded. Leave my room at once before you leave me with a sordid reputation.”

But Benedict did not leave. Instead, he took her hand and pulled her towards the bed, letting her body mould against his like he was a sculptor and she was wet clay. 

“My mother and father kept one bedroom, did you know that?” Benedict said as Y/N settled against him. He let his fingers roam, letting it comb through her hair before journeying down her neck, down her arms before resting on her hand.

“Oh?”

It was unusual for members of the aristocracy to like their spouses let alone love them as most marriages were arranged based on factors such as dowries and wealth. Spouses tended to keep separate bedrooms, choosing to spend an evening with the other only if there was a need to but Benedict’s parents were a true love match. They stayed in one bedroom until the day his father died and even then, his mother refused to leave. Better a love lost than a love never found were words Violet often used as an explanation. 

“Is that something you’d like for us?” Y/N asked, peering up at him through her lashes. “A single bedroom?”

“I intend to stay with you tonight and every night after we are married. It would be quite a challenge to do so in separate beds.”

“Alright then,” she said with a giggle, “a single bedroom it is.” 

“What about you? Any requests for our future home?”

“A sunroom would be quite nice. With many shelves filled with books that I can read. The light would be heavenly and you could paint while I read. It would be beautiful to have tea there rather than have a sitting room.“

“Your wish is my command, Y/N, light of my life.”

“Oh and, several bedrooms. I think I’d like to return the favor and host the Bridgertons every summer. And several more rooms for our future children, whenever we are ready to have them.”

“Of course,” Benedict said with a nod and smile. 

“And a garden. Large and beautiful. Full of flowers of all shapes and sizes.”

“We will fill it with all of your favorites.”

She paused and then she frowned. “What if my father was right and we are making a terrible mistake?”

He squeezed her tightly, letting his enveloping his fingers around Y/N’s hands. “Then we will make this mistake together and we shall have no regrets. I cannot see the future, my love, but I greatly remember our past. I know that whatever troubles may find us, we will face it together and so long as we are together, we can face anything.”

He watched her brow smoothened as another smile entered her sweet face. 

“Now, what else would you like for our future home, Mrs. Bridgerton?”

And as they planned their future home, their future lives, Benedict couldn’t help but think just how lucky he was in that moment they were alone. Perhaps he was being too idealistic. He had lived a life of splendor most people could only wish for, with no real adversaries besides the problem he’d encountered with his love life. Perhaps saying that they could face anything together only proved to tempt destiny into hurdling them towards trouble. But he did mean every word he said. He could face anything, be anything so long as Y/N was by his side. Y/N, who would always help him look past the darkness and see the light. Because that was what she was. The light of his life. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[bwabys-scenarios]

Hi! Can I request more of chubby!wife with Feitan? Some comfort please and spicey stuff. Thanks you!

Sweethearts

Feitan x Chubby!Reader

warnings: creampie, pussy eating

A/N: this is old so I’m banishing it from my drafts!! it’s a lil rushed, sorry!

taglist: @desiray562 @lovelyxkazuha @ashdownunderscorebeloved

if you would like to be added to the NSFW taglist, comment a ❤️!! make sure you have your AGE in your bio, and that you’re able to be tagged/mentioned!

It had been a tough day for his poor little wife, he could tell by her aura.

Usually when Feitan got home, especially after a long mission, (Name) was jumping up to greet him, the man catching her in his arms and spinning her around while planting a kiss on her forehead.

But that morning when he finally returned after being away for a week, his wife was nowhere in sight. He could sense her, thankfully, but she hadn’t left their room to greet him this time.

“(Name)?” Feitan called out, knocking on the bedroom door.

“Come in sweetheart.”

His heart fluttered at the pet name. They had only been together a year or so, and he was still getting used to how affectionate she was.

Feitan opened the door and peered in, seeing his little wife curled up underneath their comforter, her eyes puffy and red. He was quick to sit next to her, running his hand over her air. “Cry? Why cry?”

Her lip quivered as she looked up at him, and his heart hurt seeing her so upset. Usually, (Name) always had a pep in her step, smiling as her soft hips swayed to music no one else could here.

It’s why he fell in love with her, she was kind and nice to be around, always there for him despite his short comings.

“I… had another bad day at work…”

He scowled behind his jacket. “What this time?”

She looked away, rubbing at her teary eyes. “That woman… m-my coworker keeps saying such mean things to me. I don’t know what I did to get on her bad side but she won’t leave me alone…”

Feitan’s grip tightened on her, causing his little wife to yelp. Upon her little yelp of pain, he eased his grip, kissing her forehead. “She stupid, jealous woman. Can’t stand to see you happy.”

(Name) nodded slowly, the dark haired man moving his hand down between her legs. “Beautiful wife, make you feel better.”

She squeaked when his fingers slipped beneath her panties, rubbing her plump pussy lips before finding her clit. “F-Fei, ahh!”

He shushed her, pulling his wife into his lap to make his actions easier. Even after being married for nearly a year, she was still so shy when it came to intimacy. Feitan didn’t mind though, it was cute to him.

“Wet already, wife needed some attention. Give it to her.”

He purrs against his neck, pulling his fingers from her pussy and shoving them in her mouth. (Name) whimpers against his fingers, lapping up her juices and sucking gently. “Good girl, deserves reward..”

Feitan pushed her onto the bed, prying her thighs apart and slotting himself between them. It had been nearly two months since he got to see his beloved wife under him like this. “Gorgeous…”

He tore her underwear off, lifting up her shirt just enough to see her boobs as he thrusted into her. He loved the way she bounced and jiggled when he pounded into her soft pussy, it made him cum pathetically quick if he didn’t pace himself.

“No listen to work women, listen to husband. I love you, don’t need anyone else.”

“Y-yes Fei!”

He always enjoyed watching her come undone on his cock, and despite having a hard exterior, Feitan was rather soft for his wife. “Cum for me, (Name).”

She came around him, squeezing his cock. He found himself spilling inside of her soon after, collapsing into her soft chest. “Mmph…”

He could really get lost in her soft, plush body. It was what attracted to him so much next to her sweet personality. (Name) panted beneath him, hugging him. “I love you too, Fei… thank you, I feel a lot better now.”

And that’s all he could want, his wife happy and satisfied. At the end of the day, Feitan truly was a good and loving husband, even if no one besides (Name) knew it.

[diremoone]

under the clouds, in my heart | g. satoru

it’s these kinds of days that make Satoru the happiest — that remind him of the wonderful things he has in his life now; thunderstorms where his wife and children are safe and protected inside of his home are all he could ask for

w — post canon! gojo, canon-divergence, pregnant! reader, former first-year student! reader, mentions of underage relationship, mentions of being in a former! student-teacher relationship, Papa Satoru & Mama Reader, Satoru and Reader have a (growing) big family, this ended up shorter than I anticipated

a/n: another fix it fic you guys 🤧 this one has been in my drafts longer than 236

[ apart of the TFFTS universe! ]

He loves seeing you cozied up in his sweaters, no matter the time of year (he secretly keeps it colder than normal in the summertime so you’ll put them on, but he’ll never tell you that). He loves how the hemline rests at your knees, a testament to the cute height difference between the two of you.

With your pregnancy belly, like now, sweaters only seem reach mid-thigh.

Ah, he’s not complaining.

He’s back from a mission overseas a day early, one he committed to speed-running like a demon so he could get back to his growing family. It wasn’t too necessary, considering he doesn’t have to do many more missions nowadays. The only reason he was summoned was because of his long, long influence, to which he most definitely used to get back faster.

But the universe hits his Pause button the second he warps back into his lovely home. For good reason. His heavenly blue eyes take in the scene in front of him, soul imprinting this memory into itself for eternity.

Seiji, his five-nearly-six year-old firstborn, was curled up on your lap, head using your thighs as a makeshift pillow. Traitor. Satoru can hear little snores escaping his lips at the awkward position his head is in. But if Satoru tilts his head, he can see his son’s protective decision from where his head and body lay.

Sanari, his sweet daughter, is curled up by your left arm. Her white curls of hair are splayed out on the pillow behind her as her head rests on your shoulders. Satoru chuckles. He can clearly see drool at the corner of her mouth pooling onto the sweater of his you’re wearing.

Lightning lights up the sky outside. And suddenly, the gushing sound of rain is all Satoru can hear — a downpour. Huh, the clouds had been just as white as his hair earlier. He supposes anything can happen though.

He can’t even see outside anymore now. The greenery has been completely overtaken by the opaque gray of the intense rain and thunderstorm.

Satoru’s head snaps back to you and his sleeping offspring. As much as he wants to join, he can’t bring himself to. He wants to do anything besides ruin the picturesque moment in time before him.

Just look at the family he’s made for himself.

Ah, but the squirming toddler in your arms may do just that anyway. So he doesn’t debate taking Junpei from your arms as he begins to scrunch up his adorable little nose.

Besides, Satoru’s sure you’re bound to wake up soon. His Six Eyes tells him that because the cursed energy from within your tummy is starting to become restless, the twins are finally waking up.

A big family hadn’t been on his mind. You both agreed on leaving your family with Junpei as your youngest. Especially with you falling pregnant so soon with him after having trouble with Sanari’s pregnancy and birth.

But things don’t always go to plan, do they? Satoru muses.

Taking the littlest that'll soon be a big brother wakes you from your nap. You inhale and exhale deeply as your eyes flutter open, blinking quite a few times before your vision clears.

“….’toru~” Your sleepy inhale sounds like a cute sniffle; he can’t help but grin. “You’re home?”

“Surprise, baby,” Satoru mumbles as he sits down and leans over the couch and over your pregnant belly to sweetly kiss your lips. “I’ll be home for awhile this time,” he adds softly. One arm holds his son, the other wraps around the back of your shoulders, hand resting on your upper arm to gently pull your body into him to deepen the kiss. You can’t help but giggle against his lips, and he smiles and giggles into it in return.

Lightning brightens the sky, this time for the longest you’ve ever seen. And following it, is the mightiest thunderclap you’ve ever heard. It makes even your husband jump, surprised by the deafening boom. Your lips separate from Satoru’s, who’s looking out the window with you, impressed by the power of Mother Nature.

It wakes Seiji and Sanari, who despite their maturity for their age, show their age by the fat tears pooling at their eyelids. Junpei, fully awake, begins to cry too, slightly louder than his older siblings. The toddler buries himself into his daddy’s shoulder for comfort and protection. And when the other two see their dad, who’s back home early, they jump to him and do the exact same, hugging him and burrowing into his chest and neck.

You’d take a picture had your babies not been so scared.

When your hand rubs Seiji’s back, the little boy turns to you, eyes watery with fear. He takes two little steps on the couch and softly stumbles into your outstretched arms. He rests his bottom on your thigh, head burrowed into the crook of your neck, little hands balled up into fists with the sweater you were wearing between his itty bitty fingers.

“Come on, Seiji. Off Mama’s belly,” Satoru says, a slight tinge of worry to his voice as he sees him lay a little too heavily on your rounded middle.

The little boy gasps lightly and moves. “Sorry, Mama. Sorry babies.”

You chuckle and kiss his tiny forehead. Satoru presses his lips to the side of his son’s temple, his free hand reaching for his sides to tickle him, saying things about how cute he was.

Sanari takes the moment to detach from her daddy’s side and dives back into your ribs, albeit much more carefully than her older brother. She sniffles, still scared from the clash of thunder, but much calmer now that both her parents were home and awake. She burrows her head under your arm, almost behind your back, leaving her nose room to breathe in the cool air and the sweater that smells like both you and her papa.

It’s so cute, Satoru thinks. She’s the complete opposite of him. She’s the more quiet and reserved one of her siblings. And he still suspects that she still will after her younger twin siblings will be born. Satoru has a feeling, knows in his gut that they’ll be the most extroverted of his children, bouncing off the walls just like he does every day.

Though not so much anymore, heh. He’s still a childish person at heart, but his age is slowly getting to him, slowly beginning to chip away at his ability to be the flamboyant jujutsu sorcerer he used to be. He can feel the ache of time and age begin to take root in the bones of his body that had been so tempered.

In its place, however, took fatherhood, took a new and different kind of responsibility that he was more than excited for — days filled with new challenges, watching his kids grow as he smothers them with love.

His former students were more than capable of handling the load he used to. There’s plenty more of them nowadays than there is of him. With most of them all Special Grade sorcerers, too, he muses. Including you. But you don’t partake in missions like that, mostly being in the reserves of jujutsu society and using your reverse cursed energy like Shoko has.

Especially since becoming a mom.

Satoru sees the rainy day lulling you back to sleep. Being five-and-a-half months pregnant with twins, while also caring for three more while her husband was away would make any woman tired.

His offspring, however, were wide awake.

“Go upstairs and go to sleep,” Satoru says quietly. He sees the waves of fatigue hit every time you blink several times in one go. Your happy expression is getting harder to hold as you grow tired all over again, and Satoru thinks he’s going to have to carry you upstairs, fearing you falling.

But you, ever-stubborn, refuse. “I’m okaaay,” you reply, yawning into the words.

The white-haired man chuckles and shakes his head. “Go to bed,” he says, this time in a more commanding tone. “I’ll wake you up in a couple hours with food ready.”

And when he makes that face, the cutesy one that also means he’s more than happy to carry you to bed, you don’t argue. He does, however, help you up off the couch and watches from the bottom of the stairs to make sure you lose balance and tip backwards. Satoru blows you a kiss, to which you chomp down at, mock-devouring his kisses. He gasps, fake offended, and it gets the giggle out of you he’s hoping for before you go into the bedroom.

Satoru’s heart swells with adoration and love. It overflows even more as he turns back to his two sons and his daughter. God, he almost wants to cry. What did he do to deserve such happiness in his life? After everything he’s done, that’s happened to him, when did the universe decide a beautiful wife and sweet, adorable children were in the cards for him?

He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s going to hold his family close to his heart and protect them until his last breath.

a/n: this got published at a completely random time lmao, where did this even come from? this’ll flop for sure but everyone who reads pls enjoy anyway

[greenunoreversecard]

Plsss do another part to the fic ‘A koala and it’s tree’ the concept is so cool!!

a/n:I had at least half written and then my phone fucking deleted the draft I want to cry so hard I'm in mourning. Also sorry it Took me a minute to comr up eitheir a idea for the plot of it

Teaching a old Dog new tricks (task failed succesfully) ->Alastor x teen!platonic! Reader

(Pt.2 of a koala and its tree)

You sigh, dragging yourself along behind Alastor and Rosie. You don't understand much of what their saying, as their speaking like it's the early 20th century. Which, to be fair, they are from then.

But you could barely understand a word being said, due to missing ao much previous knowledge about slang and terms and shit. And you were so bored and

What if-

Oh ho ho! Bingo!

A wonderful idea indeed.

---

You sigh loudly, feet hurting from all the walking you've done today and plop down on the couch next to Angel Dust, and alastor sits on a arm chair across from the both of you. You smirk, setting your plan into action. You make sure your loud enough for Alastor to hear you.

" did you see that new video? No Cap I'm going to be for real it's lowkey giving try hard you know like? I'm just being real like I really don't vib3, like girls not giving main character.. and like, Miss ma'am you are not slaying you are not giving it is not the vibe like, twas not a glow up but a glow down. But it is kinda sus how she treated Kim like, big yikes. Not loving the energy. And That outfit did not understand the assignment. It was basic and it sent me"

Angel looks at you wide eyed for a moment, you nudge him and side eye Alastor hoping he gets the cue. He does.

"I for real was just thinking that, like bitch be deadass with me you did not leave your house like that. But that tea was piping hot and bussing. And the fact Jennie had no rizz? Bitch please, you acting all that and ended up capping, highkey a flop."

"THATS WHAT IM SAYIN BITCH LIKE-"

You glance at Alastor, who's wide eyed and with a strained smile. If you could guess it would probably be a mix between strange curiosity and slight horror.

"I- pardon?"

You smirk. Mission accomplished.

---

A week later you sat Alastor down, explained some simpler slang words and terms to him.

He didn't didn't to get it, bit when he told angel "Bitches be slaying, queen" you think he got some of it, but not the way he was supposed you.

You almost coughed a lung up from the amount of laughing you did, and vowed from thst day forward you were never going to correct his usage if it meant funny shit like this happened again.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

A Good Father

Dad!Dean Winchester X Wife!Mom!Reader

Summary: Dean has a beautiful wife and the cutest little girl. The perfect family. Maybe it's time to have a real home, too.

Part 2 of A Good Man but can be read as a standalone. This is actually how supernatural ended thank you very much

Warnings: not much, candy cane fluff, foul language. Still minors dni cause I don't want minor on my blog

WC: 2.6k

A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while. Why not post it right? I love Dean with all my heart. That's nothing new. Enjoy the teeth rooting fluff cause I don't have the mental capacity to write smut rn :,)

Sleep still covered your eyes as you rubbed them softly. It couldn't have been later than six a.m., or at least what you saw through half-closed eyes on your phone screen when you woke up. You weren't fully sure, you were still processing that you were awake. You hadn't entirely wanted to get out of bed, but the lack of your husband's warmth all but forced you out of the comfort of your covers. Your feet took you to the study first. That's normally where you would find the brothers anyway. But you only saw Sam.

"Morning." You mumbled softly, running a hand over your face as you walked over to the younger Winchester.

Sam lifted his eyes from the ancient looking book in front of him, and he gave you a warm smile.

"Oh, hey, good morning."

You stood beside him, leaning a hand on the table as you looked around for Dean with a small frown.

"Where's your brother?"

"In the kitchen with Rosie. She woke up like an hour ago, so he's making her breakfast." He answered with a smile.

Your own lips irked up in pleasant surprise. Normally, Rosalie— yours and Dean's little girl— would come running to wake you— or both you and Dean, depending who was home at the time. You never minded that she would be up before you since Sam was always up before sunrise, and he loved spending time with his niece. But it did surprise you a bit that Dean didn't wake you at all this morning. Though, you were more so in awe at the fact that he had decided to take care of her that morning by himself.

Truth was, he had been gone a while, almost a week. That had been the longest he had spent on a hunt ever since she was born— five years ago. And your little girl was definitely missing her dad. She loved you, no doubt about it, but the little one was a daddy's girl for sure, but you blamed Dean for spoiling her so much. So she was feeling his absence greatly. She cried almost every night, asking why daddy wasn't there to tuck her in. It broke your heart a hundred times over to see her so heartbroken. When Dean came home last night, she all but clung to him, refusing to leave his side. And you guessed that had carried over to this morning.

"Thanks, Sam." You patted his shoulder and padded through the long halls of the bunker to the kitchen. You held in your breath as you peaked your head through the door and you nearly teared up at the sight.

"You think mommy and Sammy will like these?" Dean pursed his lips, nudging at the tiny human resting on his hip as three different pans with pancake batter, sizzling bacon and scrambled eggs cooked on the stove.

"Uh-huh. It looks yummy." She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder as he held her.

"Yeah, sure does." Dean shrugged, lips pulled into a proud grin at his own work. He always was a great cook.

He stood for a second, keeping an eye on one thing as he moved around another with a spatula and still somehow held a five year-old on his hip. He had his attention somewhere else, so he almost missed the tiny voice in his ear.

"I missed you, daddy." Rosie mumbled, her soft voice almost inaudible against him. Dean looked down at her, his eyes slightly big and his lips parted. He stared at her for a long second before he said anything. He was wondering just what the fuck he ever did to deserve something like this.

"I… I missed you too, baby. Always." He sighed out, his chest aching with an indescriptible feeling as he brushed some loose strands behind her ear, and he pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

You were silent for a long minute, lips slightly parted and eyes filled with awe as you leaned against the doorframe to watch the sight in front of you. Dean, still in his pajamas, with his little girl on his hip as he cooked. He was saying something to her, or so you figured since you heard her giggles, her tiny hands bunched around his t-shirt as she buried her face in his shoulder. He was smiling too.

"I'm deeply hurt. Making breakfast without me?" You spoke up, feigning hurt.

Dean turned around, he smiled at you at first but when Rosie started giggling at you, hiding deeper into his chest, he gritted his teeth.

"Ah, busted. Told you mommy would find out." He shook his head, holding back a smile as you approached them.

You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. He gave you a shrug with a toothy smile that showed the edges of his canines, and he gave you that innocent puppy dog look. You groaned out.

"We'll talk later." You warned, but your tone was playful. You finally slipped a smile as you stood on the tip of your toes to give Dean a kiss on the lips. He happily leaned down to meet you halfway. And then you kissed your little girl, leaving kisses all over her tiny face.

She giggled, nearly jumping out of her dad's arms into yours. Dean happily passed her over to you, his hip starting to get numb. You held her happily, pressing a kiss to the mess of her bedhead. God, the more this one grew, the more she looked like Dean. The same green eyes, the same freckled cheeks. But she had your nose, and her hair was a shade darker than Dean's, closer to Sam's brown. But you knew that she would be the spitting image of her dad when she grew older.

"Did you help daddy make breakfast?" You asked Rosie, and she nodded excitedly.

"Yeah! I helps daddy make pancakes." You gasped, lips parted to share her excitement.

"Those are gonna be the yummiest of pancakes, right sweetheart?" Dean leaned down, nudging her cheek with his finger. She nodded.

"Alright, little one, go sit with Sammy, we'll bring you out some pancakes, okay?" You told the little girl, and she nodded again, mumbling an 'okay'. You smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before you set her down her tiny feet. She had spent her whole short life in this bunker. You were sure she could find her way around the general area.

"Tell Sammy he's a nerd for me." Dean called out to Rosie as she ran off, chanting that her uncle Sammy was a nerd. Dean was smiling proudly to himself. He was raising her right.

"You're an ass." You playfully scolded him, and he gave you a look of feign innocence. He shrugged at you.

"I ever tell you how beautiful you look in the morning?" He irked his lips at you, resting his hands on your hips as he pulled you close. God he had missed you so fucking much.

"Missed you, too, hun." You leaned up on your toes, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He tried to hide it, muffle the sound, but he winced when your hand touched his cheek.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you immediately pulled back to look at his face. You hadn't noticed the red bruise on his cheek, on the purple bruising around his eye. You gasped quietly, gently brushing the tip of your fingers over the bruised skin. He scrunched up his face at you, about to pull back, but you shot him a sharp look.

"I'm fine, baby. Just some bruises. You shoulda seen the other guy." He grinned, trying to humor you, but the concern didn't leave your face.

"I don't want to, actually." You sighed softly, your eyes falling to his chest, avoiding his eyes.

You wouldn't say it to his face, not actually. How could you? He never lied to you, from the moment he wanted something real with you he told you the truth. You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into with him. Sammy and hunting come with the package— he told you. And you accepted it. All of it. You married him anyway. You gave him a daughter anyway. But God, it terrified you beyond words that he was still hunting. That he still left you and your little girl for days at a time. And that he would come home with new scars and bruises that would last days. But at times— like this one— you feared that neither of them would come home at all.

"Sweetheart…" There was a bit of warning in his voice. He could read you so easily. He grabbed your face, forcing your head up to look at him now. "What is it?"

"You worry me, Dean. Look at your face. I don't even want to know how it looks under your shirt." Your eyes fell to the side, and your chest filled with ache as you tried to say the right words. "I'm sorry, I know I have no right to guilt trip you. But your daughter missed you, I missed you, and we need you, Dean, that's all."

Dean said nothing at this, his face stayed unreadable as he listened to you. And he heard you, he heard you loud and clear. He felt pressure on his chest and a sick feeling to his stomach. Fuck, he had grown soft.

"C'mere." He pulled you to his chest. He rested his hand on your hair, and he sighed softly when you threw your arms around his torso. "You know I love you, and Rosie, so much, right?"

You nodded against his chest. "I know babe, I love you, too."

We need you, Dean.

"Daddy! I told uncle Sammy he's a— a nerd!" Rosie announced loudly when she saw you and Dean again. And you had to hide your smile at the pointed look Sam shot his older brother.

Dean played dumb, his lips falling open, and he clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I'm telling ya, Sammy, I dunno where she learns it from."

"Yeah, great parenting dude." Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, and he could only snort in response.

"Yeah, well, here's my apology." Dean shrugged, setting down a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of Sam with a shit eating smile. Sam pretended to be offended, but he ate the plate in front of him without protesting.

"Alright, Rosie, you wanna eat some pancakes before school?" You set the plate with the smaller portion of pancakes and bacon in front of her and she nodded happily.

"Yes, please!" She excitedly grabbed a fork and dug in, but stopped a second later and looked at Dean. "Daddy can I has syrup?"

"Sure, baby." He practically saturated her plate with syrup and then his own. You shook your head at how alike they were already. You shared a knowing look with Sam and sighed softly, eating from your own plate.

You didn't often have the chance to have breakfast as a family, so you always treasured little moments like this when you had them. And deep in your heart, you wished you had moments like this more.

~~~~~~

"Sweetheart, you in here?" Dean peeked his head into your shared bedroom, his eyes darting around for a few seconds, and then his lips curved up at the sight of you on your shared bed, face deep in your laptop.

"Hi love," You smiled at him, setting your laptop aside to greet him. He happily joined your side, his lips pressing a kiss to yours instantly. "You left Rosie at school, right?"

Your words were stern as was the look you gave him. He pulled back and pouted. You were definitely scolding him for the time he decided to take Rosalie on a drive with Baby just because she asked instead of dropping her off at school.

"'Course I did. No rides in Baby this time, I promise." He smiled at you, and you rolled your eyes.

"Hope so." He saw you reach for your laptop again so he decided to speak again.

Dean thought about it. He thought about it all morning. He drove around town for another hour just to get his thoughts straight.

"Listen, I was thinkin' 'bout what you said this morning.."

You shook your head at him, "I'm sorry, Dean, I know I shouldn't have. Let's just forget about it, yeah?"

"Hey, no, don't do that. Let's not forget about it." You frowned at him, but you didn't respond, so he kept talking. "You're right. I know you are. Hell, I got thrown around so hard, I don't know how I got outta bed this morning. I thought about you, thought about Rosie. Thought about my old man, too."

You frowned softly, resting your hand on the back of his neck, fingers threading through the short hair gently, "Dean.."

"I don't want to be like my old man. I don't want to leave you and Rosie alone anymore, I just can't."

You straightened up, a bit unsure where he was getting at.

"Dean, baby, what are you trying to say?"

"You and Rosie deserve a normal life, a house, all of that shit." Dean breathed out the words, and he held your face in his hands, a tiny smile on his lips. "I want to try it. A normal life. Don't you?"

"I… Dean.." You sighed out softly, attempting to process his words. You stared at him long and hard, and all you saw was love, his green eyes were sincere. "I wouldn't force you to give up hunting. I mean, that's all you've known? And what about Sam? I just—"

"That's exactly it. I'm… I'm so goddamn tired of the life. Don't get me wrong, we save people, hell, we've saved the world, but is that really all worth it if I can't come home to my wife and daughter?" He tilted his head, his free hand was on your thigh, and he squeezed softly. "And Sammy, I know he's tired of it too. He's always wanted a normal life. But he stayed because of me. If I get out, I know he'll do it, too. He's done it before. Who knows, maybe he can find his own pretty girl to marry and have a couple of kids with."

For the longest time, Dean had refused to even consider doing anything else with his life, doing anything better. This was all he had ever known, all he was ever actually good at, right? But lately, God, just lately, he was seeing that light at the end of the tunnel. You and Rosalie were right there. And if you were there with him, the rest of the world could go to hell for all he cared.

"Dean, I love you, I loved you then, hunter and all, and I will love you no matter what. But if you want to settle down.." You breathed out a soft laugh, the words sounding so nice when you said them out loud. You leaned closer to him, a smile on your lips as you pressed your forehead against his. "We'll settle down. A house, normal jobs, play dates, all of it."

"Christ, what did I ever do to deserve you in my life?" He smiled wide, and he pressed a hard kiss to your lips. It was warm, loving.

"Mhmm, so, what would a former hunter do for a living?"

"I'm pretty good with cars aren't I? What do you say? Think I should open my own car shop?"

Your husband as a mechanic? That wouldn't be half bad.

[c0s-lettuce]

favourites - platonic!crowley x reader

gender non-specific, reader is a uni student, crowley is a father figure, implied platonic!aziraphale x reader

a/n: back from my hiatus to post this. it's been sitting in my drafts for a while. hope you like it!! <3

word count: 767

You thought it'd be nice to surprise Aziraphale and Crowley and come home during the break. However, you hadn't imagined they'd be in the middle of another… unearthly situation.

Turns out the two of them have been harbouring the Archangel Gabriel, whom you had only met once. And whom the last you heard of was when he tried to kill Aziraphale.

But, love thy neighbour, you suppose.

On your way home, you thought it peculiar that the streets were wet despite the forecast predicting no rain. However, the weather is known for its unpredictability, so you shrugged it off.

When you arrived at the bookshop, you were met with a grumpy-looking Crowley who, to your credit, did look surprised to see you. He explained that Aziraphale, against his own wishes, had taken the Bentley to Edinburgh. And he ignored your comment about how he never lets you drive his car.

So, you stayed at the bookshop with Crowley. You caught a glimpse of your room upstairs. Your bed, your desk, even the chair Aziraphale insisted on having so he could read to you was still there, despite you telling him that you were too old for bedtime stories. Everything was in the exact same place you left it.

Except now, Aziraphale's copious amounts of books have taken up storage like stalagmites in a cave. And there was a strange, large man occupying your space. You decide to take refuge downstairs.

To pass the time, Crowley tells you about Job as you look through the book that Aziraphale had left out. He tells you about God's plan to test the faith of their favourite human, how he had free reign to ruin Job's life but ultimately didn't.

Crowley was always nice, you thought.

After hearing the story, you say, "It's a bit overly righteous."

"Well, we are talking about God," Crowley replies.

"Yeah, I know, but there must have been a better way." You try to think of an analogy. "What if I said, 'Oh Crowley, you're my favourite dad, but maybe you only like me because you have to'. And then I crash your car and set your plants on fire and… punch Aziraphale in the face to see if you'll still like me afterwards."

Crowley stares at you with subtle incredulity. You sense that he's about to say something judgemental.

But instead, he asks, "I'm your favourite?"

"What?" you reply.

"You just said I'm your favourite."

"…I was just trying to make a point."

"Oh, so Aziraphale's your favourite?"

"Who said I had a favourite?"

"Come on, everyone has a favourite parent."

"Well, I don't."

Crowley stares at you even more, waiting for you to break. But you seem successful in holding your ground.

"Alright, whatever," he gives in. "And I do like you, by the way. Not just because I have to."

"Hah, I knew it," you give him a big smile.

"Just don't crash my car or do any of what you just said."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

He smirks back and continues, "I agree with you about the whole Job situation, too. So does Aziraphale. That was the first day the two of us were truly on the same side."

"Our side," you say.

"Exactly," Crowley nods, "Though we hadn't realised it at the time."

You watch as Crowley smiles to himself. It reminds you of the nights in your room when Aziraphale would abandon whatever book he had picked and tell you a story of him and Crowley instead.

You find yourself smiling too.

But a crash from upstairs ruins the moment. It's Gabriel, or rather, Jim.

You sigh and ask, "Did Aziraphale have to give him my room?"

"No, but I suppose he wanted Gabriel to be comfortable for whatever reason," Crowley shrugs.

"What if he's touching my stuff or something?"

"He probably is. Might be breaking a few of your things, too."

You cringe at the thought. "Would it really hurt you to try and make me feel better?"

"What, you want me to lie to you?" Crowley asks.

"You are a demon, aren't you?"

"Retired, technically."

Unable to think of something to respond with, you turn your sights to the street through the window, wondering when you'll see the Bentley return.

"Hey," Crowley grabs your attention again, "This will all be over before you know it. Then I'll let you and Aziraphale drag me to whatever dreaded place you both wish."

You aren't sure how true that is. Or how much trouble Jim will really be for them.

But for now, you just smile. "Sounds like a deal."

➸

[glutengoblin]

Guilty As Sin, Sebastian Sallow X Reader (Part 1)

A/N: This one has been sitting in my drafts for waaaaay too long. Originally, I planned to make it just one complete part before posting. Given its length, I decided to split it up.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Thanks for all the love on my other pieces of writing, it means the world to me!

(She/her pronouns, house neutral)

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Some 18+ Content

Disclaimer: I am not Taylor Swift and therefore do not own the rights to "Guilty As Sin"

Though the Hogwarts library was typically where MC liked to study most, today she couldn’t capture her focus. At some point when she was working through the stack of parchments she needed to complete by the following Monday, the words had begun to blur indistinguishably together.

Studying alone was a complete drag. Placing her head on the desk, she resigned to taking a short break, in the hope that it might allow her to regain her focus.

She felt as if she had begun to blur into the background noise of the library herself. The gentle chatter of students working together, the occasional shush from Scribner, and the tap of quill pens against the desks nearby only served as a reminder of how quiet her life had been since it had all happened.

The events of her 5th year had hit her like a freight train; she felt as if that was the only appropriate way to describe it at that point. Learning that she had magical abilities (let alone ancient magical abilities), the nearly insurmountable weight of having to protect the wizarding world on her shoulders, and the eventual loss of her mentor was more trauma than any 15-year-old should have to endure. She knew that now. Yet, somehow, one of the worst parts of that trauma was trying to work through what was left of her shattered friendships.

Poppy, Natty, Garreth, and Amit had stuck around thankfully- she wasn’t entirely alone, and that much she was thankful for. Their crew managed to keep her mostly entertained, as there was a never-ending supply of mischief that they managed to get her into. Poppy always managed to find a way to add a new best to the vivarium. Figuring out their care was a constant challenge, and MC was thankful Deek was so willing to help in the endeavor. Natty, on the other hand, constantly dragged MC into the Forbidden Forest, hell-bent on ridding the Earth of the few Ashwinders that still meandered about the land. Garreth was… Garreth. That alone was enough to keep her on her toes.

Ominis and Sebastian… That was another story. Since the events occurred in the catacombs, Ominis and her had spoken occasionally in the undercroft, mainly trying to parse through what was left of Ominis’s shattered emotions, due to the betrayal he felt his best friend had committed. It was an effort to convince Ominis that they shouldn’t send Sebastian to Azkaban the moment he killed his uncle. He felt as if Sebastian had now sealed his fate towards turning into a dark wizard. However, once he calmed down a bit, Ominis seemed to conceptualize Sebastian’s decision as an act of self-defense; still, Ominis felt like their friendship was forever fractured beyond repair, and the boys hadn’t spoken since.

At first, MC had done her best to avoid being around, or even thinking about Sebastian. They had grown remarkably close during their 5th, honestly to the point where MC had found herself beginning to think of Sebastian as more than a friend. But after her fifth year, she needed time to try and process what he had done for herself. She kept her space, and he seemed to fall into their new rhythm. Gone were the days of playfully shoving each other as they walked the Hogsmeade streets, mouths full of pumpkin pasties. Instead, their relationship was reduced to glances across classrooms, followed by the occasional smile from Sebastian - but nothing more.

MC’s friends picked up on the obvious changes in behavior from her and Ominis towards Sebastian, and somewhere along the line, they had decided he was person non-grata. While none of them knew what he did, for Ominis and MC to turn their backs on him, they were forced to assume the worst. Thus, even if MC ever did want to try and close the gap, she felt like couldn’t. Part of the reason she adored her friends was because they had grown so protective of her since her fifth year- but she also resented it, feeling as if golden handcuffs now controlled her every move in regards to Sebastian.

The world blurred back into focus as Poppy plopped down beside her, looking over the papers strewn across the table. Poppy picked one up, examined it, and frowned.

“Seems like you’re a bit overwhelmed at the moment.” Poppy offered a small smile, receiving a laugh from MC in return.

“You could say that. I just need to get all of this done by Monday. And quite frankly, it's a lot.”

Poppy let out a soft melodic laugh. “I hate to break it to you, Y/N, but unfortunately that will be our future for the next year.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh, and flipped a page, examining its contents as she tried to pull the information from her mind. At this point, it was simply beyond her. Thankfully, she generally started her work early, and since it was only Thursday she decided it might be best to take a break. She began shuffling the papers into neater stacks, looking over at Poppy.

“I'm honestly not sure I can focus for much longer. How do you feel about a break? Perhaps a walk to Hogsmeade might be in order?” Poppy flashed a smile and began helping her friend pack up her papers.

“That sounds wonderful.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Although it was only September, there was slight a crispness about the air that spoke of fall in Scotland. Y/N savored her breaths, and the feeling of sunlight dancing on her skin, knowing that soon the area would be reduced to days full of rain. Though she adored the chillier fall days, colored by falling leaves and perfect for drinking tea, she was thankful she got outside while she could.

Poppy trotted alongside her, excitement evidently growing as they reached the Hogsmeade gates. The town was pretty rowdy for a Thursday, but that was likely due to the fact that it was the first-week students were back in Hogwarts. Most of them were likely retrieving supplies that they had forgotten to purchase before returning to school.

Y/N sighed, her thoughts wistfully returning to two years ago, almost to the exact day when Sebastian had been guiding her on that exact quest. While the troll attack had certainly put a damper on things, Y/N had greatly appreciated the time she got to spend with Sebastian. She knew from that point onwards that they would be great friends, or even something more. **She bit her lip at that additional thought, unsure of exactly where it had come from.

Truth be told, that was a lie. She had been eyeing Sebastian at the Great Feast earlier that week, and in their first few classes together. The transition to the seventh year had done something to him. Although she had always considered him attractive, he had grown taller and filled out a bit. While not overly muscular, the new changes certainly made him look older, something she found her thoughts wandering too over the past couple of days.

Y/N snapped out of her state of quiet contemplation when the pair reached Honeyduke’s. They were on the hunt for some treats to add to their stashes. Poppy made a beeline to the jelly beans, while Y/N took some time to peruse the chocolate frogs. Garreth had told her a rumor that apparently there was a way to determine which card each container held. The print supposedly differed slightly on each container, so Y/N leaned in to study the stack, trying to look for any hint of this supposed difference.

Eventually, she stood straight again to passivated the tinge of pain that played at her spine for bending over too long. To her surprise, she looked over the stack to find herself staring into a pair of familiar brown eyes.

“S-Sebastian?” Y/N choked out, caught a bit off guard by their sudden proximity. Although the stack of treats still separated them, this was closer than they had been in over a year. It was then that Y/N realized how tall he had grown - the difference was a bit startling now.

Sebastian stayed quiet for a moment, clearly considering his next words carefully.

“Y/N- I was hoping we’d run into each other at some point this year. I-I… I’ve been meaning to speak with you.” A look of shock crossed her face, before settling into an uncontrolled smile. Maybe this was the way to bridge the gap after this year.

“Alright… About what exactly?” Sebastian opened his mouth to respond, but an instant later, Y/N felt an arm being looped through her’s. She looked over to see Poppy, who looked to be a mix of both uncomfortable and pissed. Poppy’s eyes traveled up and down Sebastian, obviously sizing him up.

“How do you do Sallow?” She asked, her voice dripping with more disdain than Y/N had expected to ever hear out of Poppy. Sebastian’s smile flattered for a moment, a glimpse of a frown crossing his lips before he gained control of his emotions again.

“I’m good Sweeting. It’s good to see you after so long.” Poppy offered a disingenuous smile, before turning to Y/N.

“Y/N, we must be going. I heard a rumor that there’s a sale on pet feed at The Brood and Peck. We must go before they run out. Bye Sebastian!”

With that, Poppy practically dragged her friend out on the street, spinning around to face her.

“What was he thinking! Suddenly speaking to you like that- after a whole year! The audacity.” She shook her head, as Y/N studied the ground, trying to decide on the best method to proceed with this conversation.

“It’s alright Poppy. Honestly, it was nice to see him again after so long.” Poppy frowned at that, clearly a bit distraught at that comment coming from Y/N.

“Look, I don’t know why you and Ominis stopped speaking to him, but it must have been bad to cause that big of a rift in your friendship. If it truly hurt you that much… I would just be careful around him. You really don’t need any more emotional turmoil in your life.”

Y/N sighed softly, running a hand through her hair as she thought about Poppy’s point. She had to admit, in a sense she was right.

“I’ll take your comments under advisory Poppy. Now, was there truly a sale at Brood and Peck?” Poppy instantly brightened up at the question, the frown melting from her face.

“Oh yes! You think I could lie about something like that? So, we must head over- we definitely need more fed for the vivarium before they run out.”

With that, the girls departed the front of Honeyduke’s. Y/N glanced back once they had taken a few steps, and swore that she could see Sebastian in the window, looking at them. But, she turned around to follow Poppy, figuring that the mystery of what Sebastian wanted to discuss would best be left to later.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A day later, Y/N was sitting in her dorm, polishing off the last of the stack of homework she had been working on the previous day. Although it felt lame to be doing work on a Friday night, rather than being out with her friends, Y/N enjoyed it. Getting all of her homework done now meant that she could enjoy the rest of her weekend.

Just as she was dotting her last Is and crossing her Ts, an owl flew in through her open window and dropped a letter in front of her. Y/N was a bit surprised, as typically she received mail in the mornings at breakfast. Needless to say, receiving a letter at this time of night was a bit strange.

Y/N opened the envelope, as the owl sat perched on her coat rack. To her surprise, she instantly recognized the handwriting, even a year later. It was Sebastian's.

“Dear Y/N,

I'm writing to you because we were unable to finish our conversation yesterday at Honeydukes.

I've been wanting to speak with you about what has transpired since 5th year, and mainly, I wanted to apologize for my behavior.

Y/N, I am deeply sorry for the way I pulled you into my schemes that year. It was unfair to you, and I shouldn't have taken advantage of your friendship like that. You're a true friend, and I had very few of those. So, I want you to know that I greatly appreciate everything you did for me.

Secondly, I'm assuming that part of the reason why you haven't spoken to me is because of what occurred in the catacombs. All I wanted to say was thank you. Over the past year, without you, Anne, and Ominis in my life, I've realized the error of my ways. That the path was dragging me further down, away from my family and friends - the people who matter most to me. I'm sorry.

I also feel horrible for not being there for you after Professor Fig's death. I know he was a great mentor to you, like a parent, and that it must have hurt very much. I feel horrible for not being able to support you through that time.

I'm hoping you can find it in your heart to forgive me. If that's not possible, I completely understand. If so, I wish you all the best in life. You deserve it.

Sincerely,

Sebastian Sallow”

Y/N sat there, a bit shell-shocked at what she had just read. There was no bit of that Sebastian snark in the letter. He seemed to be genuinely sorry, and trying his best to bridge the gap that formed between them.

Her heart fluttered a bit in her chest as she retrieved a fresh envelope and piece of parchment from her slightly broken desk drawer, and began to hastily write.

“Dear Sebastian,

While I admit it was difficult to come to terms with what happened 5th year, I feel as if I finally can.

Your apology is much appreciated, but I should also apologize to for abandoning you in what must have been one of your darkest times. That is not the actions of a true friend, and I am deeply sorry.

While I certainly think that things are more complicated now, I believe I'm ready to try and be friends again.

Best,

Y/N”

She quickly sealed the envelope with a press of wax, then gave it to the owl along with a stray carrot she kept around for her own. She felt bad that she had kept the owl waiting for so long, but as it flew off into the darkening sky, she knew she had made the right choice. Keeping Sebastian waiting for a reply till the next day seemed unnecessarily cruel.

Given her work for the day was finished, she decided that she might as well get ready for bed. Ominis had asked for her assistance with something tomorrow, and though she was unsure of the task entailed, she wanted to be well rested.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The next morning, Ominis approached her, as she sat on a bench reading a book. Although it was already after breakfast and she had gone to bed at a decent hour, Y/N hadn't gotten good rest. Truth be told, she was up most of the night, twisting and turning at the thought of Sebastian's letter.

Being friends again was a thought that excited her. She had missed his snarky comments and excitement about activities like crossed wands. But, rebuilding their friendship would also be difficult. Not only did they have to work through their own messes of emotion that were left with the trauma, but also Y/N had to mind her other friends. Based on Poppy's reaction the other day, she figured it might be best to keep the information that she and Sebastian had reconnected to herself.

Y/N was startled from her train of thought when Ominis approached her, and cleared his throat.

“Good morning, Y/N. I appreciate you meeting me here today.”

Smiling up at Ominis, she shut her book and stood.

“Of course. May I ask what it is you want help with?”

Ominis nodded, and then began working towards what Y/N knew to be the entrance to the undercroft. “I was hoping we could finally get the place neatened up a bit. I feel as if we’ve basically abandoned it since the events of 5th year- occurred. One day, some new Hogwarts students may happen upon it, and I want to ensure that we’re setting our best possible foot forward. Is anyone around?” He asked, as they approached the entrance. Y/N glanced around, determining that the coast was clear, and they descended into the opening.

The undercroft had developed a solid layer of dust since they had last visited. Crates were still stacked haphazardly across the floor. The place had once been such a comfort to Y/N, so welcoming. She, Ominis, and Sebastian used to spend hours of their time there, studying, laughing, and simply enjoying each other’s company. Now, it was reduced to simply a storage place.

Y/N glanced over at the triptych, only for a second, as the memories from their escapades 5th year came flooding back. Though she didn’t miss that period of her life, she realized then that she did truly miss how close she and Sebastian had been.

Shaking herself loose, she inquired what Ominis wanted to start cleaning first. Walking forward, she began to rid the space of the crates, replacing them instead with a new set of training dummies. The candles were soon replaced too, with newly conjured unused ones. The two continued working, determined to make the space they once held so dear comfortable again.

Soon enough, the undercroft was sufficiently cleaned to their liking. Y/N had even conjured a few new pieces of furniture, which were scattered around the place. A new couch, with a coffee table and matching chairs, were perhaps the best additions. Y/N and Ominis were certainly thankful for it as they took a break, admiring their work.

“I think it looks great.” Y/N smiled, patting her friend on his hand.

“So do I.” A smile crossed Ominis’s features as Y/N let out a chuckle at his joke.

“I’m sure it does.” She paused for a few seconds, considering her next words carefully. “It doesn’t quite feel right without Sebastian though… Does it?” That earned a curious look from Ominis, who thought for a moment before shaking his head.

“I still have yet to speak to him since everything happened… But I suppose you’re right. It does feel strange to be in here and not hear his quite annoying voice bouncing off the walls.”

Y/N sighed, slightly regretting bringing up the topic, as she knew how heartbroken Ominis had been at Sebastian’s indiscretions. Still, she felt as if they had to discuss it at some point. “Ominis…Have you spoken to Sebastian since it all happened?”

Ominis let out a sigh, his face now turned away from her as he seemed to search his brain for the correct words. “He actually sent me a letter.”

Shock spread over Y/N’s face, as she turned to grab his hand, urging him to continue. “He did…?”

“I- Yes. A couple of days ago. He sent me an owl. Said that he deeply regretted all the pain he had put me through- said he wished that he had been a better friend to me, and listened to my concerns. If I’m being honest… I still haven’t responded. I’m not really sure how to. Part of me wants to forgive him. He was my best friend- but I’m not sure I should… Not after everything.” Y/N could see tears play at the corners of his eyes, as Ominis seemed to contemplate his statements.

“I… that must be difficult. I’m sorry Ominis.” She bit her lip, silently cursing herself for what she was about to say. “Please let me know what you decide to do, I’ll support you either way.”

In some ways, Y/N already knew that was a lie. When it came to Sebastian, she could never find it in herself to be logical. And now, especially since he had apologized to her so sincerely, she could already feel herself slipping back into the grasp of her emotions for him. Truly, she didn’t know what would happen now that Sebastian had sent them both letters… But she hoped for the best.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Later, Y/N returned to her dorm room to find another letter bearing the same crest as yesterday, perched on her desk. She sat down, retrieving her letter opener, hands shaking slightly at the fear of the contents.

“Dear Y/N,

I appreciate your forgiveness more than you could ever imagine, and your apologies, although they are unwarranted.

I’m not quite sure how to approach this “becoming friends again” thing, since I’ve never done it before. So, I suppose I should just start with simple questions: How are classes going for you this semester? Do you still love pumpkin pasties? Are you still afraid of spiders, even fighting off so many of them?

I look forward to your response.

Best,

Sebastian :) “

Y/N smiled to herself at the awkwardness that radiated from his writing. It seemed as if the ever-confident Sebastian Sallow had finally met the match of his charm.

As she sat thinking of a response, her quill twisting in her hand, she considered just how she should approach it if Sebastian asked to meet in person. Ominis still had his own decisions to make regarding forgiving him. Her friends still seemed to feel questionable about him. All factors combined, she felt that it was definitely the right decision to keep the knowledge of their correspondence to herself for a bit until she could figure out how to better approach the situation. She was glad she didn’t admit anything to Ominis.

With that thought through logically, she began working on her letter, eager to send it out before nightfall- Hopefully, that would mean yet another reply from Sebastian that night.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Y/N. Thanks for meeting me here- you don’t know how much it means to me.” Sebastian took a step forward in the dim light of the undercroft, reaching out to gently brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t know how much I’ve been hoping that someday you could forgive me. I know I’m horrible, and I’m the last person that deserves your time… But I… I want you to know that I love you.”

The next thing she felt was the press of his lips against her’s. As if on instinct, her arms reached up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down to her height and further into the kiss. Sebastian stalled for a second as she increased the intensity, before eventually catching up by wrapping his arms around her waist, clinging to her as if she was his last shot of life.

Eventually, the kiss broke, and Sebastian studied her eyes. “Y/N… as much as I love you, you need to wake up now.”

Y/N stared at him blankly, her mouth slightly agape. “Sebastian… What do you mean-?”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Next thing Y/N knew, she was sitting stick straight up in her bed, her breath coming in in panic gulps. She surveyed her surroundings, still reeling from the dream that felt more realistic than any dream she had experienced to date. After a few more breaths, she was able to compose herself- that is until she realized that there was more sunlight than usual streaming through her blinds and until she saw the time on her clock.

With ten minutes to make it to potions before she was late, Y/N was sure that she had never managed to get ready so quickly.

When she finally plopped down next to Poppy in her normal seat, the Hufflepuff looked extremely worried. While Y/N could look disheveled from time to time (often a symptom of her many adventures in the highlands), this was a worse state than Poppy had ever seen her in.

Glancing at Sharp first to ensure he was too busy lecturing to notice, Poppy nudged her friend gently, her brown eyes pooled with concern. With a hushed tone, she whispered, “Y/N- Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Y/N looked startled by Poppy speaking to her, but managed to get her bearings back quickly. “I’m fine Poppy- I just had an interesting dream is all. Now let's hush before Sharp yells at us… again.” Poppy nodded in response, but her face was still painted with worry.

But, she relented and tried her best to focus on the complex lesson of yet another potion that she would never have any application for.

Though the lesson lasted for another hour, ‘an hour too long’ Poppy thought, she didn’t forget about her strange interaction with her friend. Not wanting to push her for more information, since that never really seemed to work with Y/N, Poppy decided to discuss the matter with Natty instead.

As students were finally filtering out of the classroom, Poppy made sure to catch up with Natty, gently pulling on her robes to get her attention. “Natty… would you mind having a quick conversation with me? It’s about Y/N… I’m worried.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Despite the fact that Poppy’s behavior made Y/N feel like she was onto her, Y/N decided to spend the rest of her day as normally as possible. As normally as possible, that is, with thoughts of Sebastian crowding her mind.

She was in a daze throughout all of lunch, barely noticing when Garreth had managed to concoct something that turned a 1st year’s head blue. She could hardly focus through the rest of her classes that day. Even crossed wands couldn’t get her to feign her attention. She barely even reacted when Leander Prewett was shot across the room, which on any other day would have been the highlight of her day.

Instead, she waited for the hours to pass, since the thoughts didn’t seem to. His lips, his hands, his smile, his messy brown hair - each minute detail that made him up. She begged for time to speed up, hoping that the sweet relief of sleep might free her from her mental prison.

By the time she finally made it back to her dorm, she hardly even wanted to open the letter that Sebastian had sent that evening. But, given it was now a cherished part of her routine, she felt as if she should.

There was nothing substantial in it, especially compared to where her thoughts of him had been leading. Instead, it was simply a continuation of the conversation they had been having the previous evening- a drabble about the Holyhead Harpies, and various other quidditch teams. One’s they had both followed during their fifth year. Discussions of quidditch had been a sweet relief during the torment of those long months. Despite not having ever played the game herself, Y/N felt connected to it- truth be told Sebastian’s enthusiasm for the sport probably had something to do with her sudden interest during fifth year.

Y/N wrote a quick reply, figuring he was owed at least that, before resigning herself to going to bed. She readied herself for sleep hurriedly, craving the sweet release of a free mind.

Only it wouldn’t come. Instead, her mind was riddled with even more intense thoughts of him. Of his hands on her, touching her places that no one had before. His hands running down her form, savoring her curves. A thumb, gently caressing her cheek. And, perhaps worst of all, his fingers tracing letters on her thigh. With a shiver going down her spine, she realized he was spelling out “mine”.

Eventually, Y/N woke at 3 am, her mind likely deciding that it couldn’t bear any more of the torment her mind had to offer. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, it seemed pointless to try to sleep again. Trying to set herself to something productive, she realized that she did need a few potion ingredients - specifically ones that were harder to procure. Specifically, ones that required a trip to one of the places Hogwarts students were not allowed to go: the Forbidden Forest.

“Well,” she murmured to herself, “might as well go while I’m least likely to be caught.” Once she had made her decision, she set to prepare herself. A thick coat, scarf, and socks per usual, and a couple of extra wiggenwelds for good measure.

Thankfully the common room was deserted as she decided to take the floo flame, opting to land near the entrance to the forbidden forest.

Perhaps youthful ignorance was why she never felt scared of the area - after all, it was significantly more dangerous than staying in the castle. But Y/N was always confident in her ability to defend herself. Never once had she wanted to be considered a fragile flower. Thus, even though the area was eerily quiet, enough so to give her momentary pause, she decided to continue.

She had begun her way through the forest, quickly picking out a couple of the ingredients she needed for her stock. For some reason, she always found foraging calming. Perhaps it was because it was an activity that always seemed to take her thoughts off the tumultuous events during 5th year.

She leaned down, collected some mushrooms with a few swipes of her pocket knife and placed them into her pouch. Yes, of course, she could have used her wand, but sometimes she felt the use of muggle tools was more therapeutic. It made her feel more connected to the plants that she was oh-so-carefully collecting.

She made her way deeper and deeper into the forest until she began to have the off-putting feeling that something or someone was following her. At this point, the heavy tree cover had completely blotted out the lights from Hogwarts. She cast her gaze around and when she failed to detect anyone she continued her trek until she stumbled upon a poacher camp.

Quickly disillusioning herself, she fel into a crouch behind a tree, studying the scene before her. There only looked to be 2 or 3 poachers at the camp, with a puffskin gently whining in a cage off to the left side. Y/N winced when a poacher approached it and kicked it.

“Oi, quit your yapping.” He yelled at the poor beast, who trembled under the gaze of his captor. Y/N decided then that they would be an easy target.

She moved a bit closer, before revealing herself. The first two barely stood a chance against her, as she quickly transfigured one into a barrel and sent him flying towards the other. The third one wasn’t so easy it turned out.

Out of nowhere, five more figures appeared. A couple more poachers… And a couple of Ashwinders. Y/N ducked, letting out a yelp as she barely avoided being sliced in half by a diffindo thrown her way.

Though Y/N had faced much worse than this (she had taken down Ranrok, after all), she knew this battle was going to be difficult. Her lack of sleep and stress over the double life she was once again living were eating at her in strange ways. She felt herself growing weaker, trying her best to conjure up her ancient magic. To her dismay, the power didn’t want to respond. She tried her best, managing to take down the other poachers with a clever combo. But when an incarerous managed to hit her, she went tumbling to the ground, hitting her head hard.

The last thing she saw before everything went black was a flash of messy brown hair, green robes, and warm brown eyes that could only belong to one person.

Sebastian.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[inmyloveworld]

i'll look after you (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~1.3k

synposis: "don't think, just do," was a challenging mentality to live by. but bradley quickly finds there is a balance to be had between thinking and doing.

warnings: allusions to anxiety, work abuse, overthinking

a/n: another hurt/comfort, who's surprised? this has been sitting in my drafts with an unfinished smut ending for a month but i’m electing to post without it as i’m not confident in my ~other~ writing abilities yet.. enjoy!

It was rare that the Navy ever let its aviators off early for the day; even more so for the elite members of Top Gun. Yet, with the clock barely stroking past a sunny four, Bradley was reclined on the sofa with a beer in hand. The house was spotless thanks to a shared cleaning spree the day prior. Nothing could have made for a more perfect turn of events.

But Bradley was pondering on the few texts he'd received that day. They were void of any of the color and character he was used to. None of the words exaggerated their spelling, and periods punctuated every short sentence. Everyone had once remarked him as a chronic overthinker both in the air and on the ground. It was easy to dismiss the gnawing he felt in his gut as the remnants of that mentality.

So, he cracked a Heineken and let himself indulge in uncommon solitude. The flat screen played his favorite drama to placate his mind. A subtle hunger led to perusing online menus for takeout ideas. Every little bit of stimulation was a welcome distraction from his pompous presumptions.

And then he heard it: the abrupt slam of a car door. Fumbling footsteps made their way to the front stoop followed by a clamoring of keys against the painted wood. Bradley grinned as he awaited the arrival, even through the slight tug of worry in his chest.

He watched as you stumbled inside without care. Shaking hands hung up tightly gripped keys and those same fumbling feet kicked off their shoes in frustration. Your shoulders rose and fell sharply with every short breath.

Was I overthinking?

Bradley had yet to see your face, had yet to meet those eyes always bright with excitement. Your face remained tucked toward the wall with each passing second. Swallowing his hesitation, Bradley spoke over the TV. "Baby?"

Your body reacted in shock, jolting up as your head whipped around.

I wasn't.

Hot tears were rolling down your cheeks. Said cheeks were splotchy, proof that these tears were far from the first you'd shed that day. The bright eyes he adored were puffy and red. Their brightness now was not out of joy but sorrowful watering.

Bradley's heart clenched tightly. "Oh, angel," he cooed, hurrying to displace his Heineken to a coaster and mute the TV. You had little time and no energy left to fight his comfort. As your boyfriend stood before you with open arms, you crashed into them.

He wasted no time in embracing you. Sobs broke past your wobbling lips and muffled against his shoulder. "I've got you, babe," Bradley soothed. "I've got you, it's okay. Just let it out."

All you had ever wanted was for someone to support you whenever life put you through the wringer. Bradley felt it a great privilege to be that support, knowing you'd do nothing short of the same for him. He almost cursed himself for letting his insecurities derail his intuition for you, but dismissed the old habit of self-deprecation. Nothing mattered more in this moment than helping you get back on your feet.

"I- I didn't know, you'd be ho-home," you blubbered. The comment irked something in him. How long had you been coming home in a similar state, putting yourself together just in time for him to get home? Were there more despondent texts or other warning signals he hadn't picked up on?

Each hypothesis built a greater desire to look after you, and to follow up on any twinge of doubt he felt. He needed not only to think but to take action on what he thought. "Shh, none of that, baby. None of that. You can always let go around me, okay? 'Can always tell me what's bugging you."

The words lifted heaviness off of you little by little. You cried more at the safety you felt in his words. Bradley guided you, leaden-legged, to the couch. He sat first before gently tugging you atop his lap.

Warm palms rubbed against your cheeks to dry them. Warmer brown eyes sunk into yours, unconditional love seeping through every glint of gold. "Do you wanna talk about it now, or later?" Though not wanting to let your feelings fester, Bradley didn't desire to press you for answers.

He watched as you took in a steady breath and nodded slowly. "Work's just.. just been really frustrating." You sniffled before continuing with anecdotes of being overworked and underappreciated.

Bradley continued to rub softly at your skin as you spoke. His lips pressed assuring kisses to your temples at times you got too worked up to continue. He gave every ounce of care and attention he could to your stories as you vented them out.

You slumped forward in his hold as you finished with a heaving sigh. Another soft kiss was pressed to the crown of your head. "Thank you for telling me, baby." His hands took up rubbing up and down your arms to help ease any remaining tension.

Bradley wasn't sure what he could say or do to make any of this better for you, to help resolve your problems in one fell swoop so that you never had to feel this way again. At the same time, he wasn't sure that a fix-it attitude was what you wanted or needed.

Don't think, just do.

"I want you to know that you're amazing. You work your ass off in everything you do without any promise of reward, and that's really admirable." You lifted your head slightly to see him, to see the sincerity dripping from his praises. "But you deserve recognition for it. It's not fair that you're continually overlooked for fuckheads who don't do a fraction of the shit you do. And it's not fair that you're made to feel so much less than you're worth. I'd kick all their asses if I could." His empty threat broke a small giggle from your lips as grateful tears replaced those of frustration.

Bradley returned your smile with one of his own before resuming a serious tone. "You don't ever have to put on a show for me, okay? I want you to know you're safe to come to me with anything, even the littlest complaints that you write off as whining. Do you ever think I'm whining about Jake getting on my nerves? Or Maverick getting too tough with me in the air?"

"Sometimes."

"Okay, that wasn't the best example." You laughed again, louder this time, and Bradley felt his chest swell with pride. He leaned forward to catch your lips against his, softly, allowing you to take the reins. The kiss stayed soft and sweet as you melted against him. Soft breaths filled the space between you as you parted, resting foreheads against one another. "I'll always look after you, angel. Don't forget that." You nodded in agreement before kissing him once more.

"Thank you."

🏷️: @avengersfan25

[flaresemily]

The past rewritten itself (Qin Shi Huang)

This is actually one of my drafts that I have been keeping for a long time now so...ENJOY!!

Being an emperor has its perks. And being forced into a marriage well…that doesn't fit right. But that's what happens to Qin Shi Huang.

He doesn't really love y/n but he doesn't hate her either. Well…just imagine them as…friends yeah! Friends after all friends don't betray each other right!....right?

You were walking towards your husband's room to give him the homemade mooncake you made with the chef/baker in the kitchen.

As you get closer, you hear some…uh well what they call the unholy sounds.

You were shocked and you dropped the mooncake. Qin probably heard the thud quickly get up and rush to the ‘door’.

As he opened the ‘door’ he saw the mess on the floor and saw your figure running away.

He realizes his mistake and quickly runs after you. (after he clean himself)

From them on,you never talked to him. Making him well…obsessed on getting you to pay attention to him. (You don't know he kill the woman he slept with)

The more days passed he always saw you talking to that one guard. He was so jealous he decided to accuse you of cheating.

It was your birthday that the whole of China is celebrating.

As you were sitting there drinking. Qin Shi Huang suddenly stood up and stand In front of the others.

“My dear beloved country, I have something to announce.”

Everyone was waiting.

And finally…

“The empress is cheating on me”

A lot of ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ can be heard.

You were shocked.

That's when people started to ‘boo’ at you.

Throwing you things and insulting you.

For a few days or weeks you have mental breakdowns; he even accused you of being pregnant with another man's child.

But what he didn't expect is for you to get kidnapped and be tortured by his people. He didn't know that they were so loyal that they dared to kidnap the empress and give her a ‘taste of her own medicine’

He realizes it when one of the old couples came to his throne room and reported it to him.

He asks his guard to check your chamber. But you were nowhere to be found.

Then, he received another news that you are getting executed In front of others.

He quickly left his palace and went to the town's square.

There…the people tied you up to the poles they made just for you. They put on a small flame to burn your legs.

You were screaming and crying and begging to be let go. Trying to tell them you were innocent.

But they wouldn't listen and continue to torture you slowly and painfully.

Then, the final punishment came.

He saw what was about to happen and quickly shouted

“NO!!!”

And stab you were stabbed already. Not once….but multiple times.

And finally your eyes as if looking at him…look at him with hurtful betrayal eyes.

You love him so much and yet…this is what you get all because you just want to give him a mooncake. Then, if you didn't bring the mooncake would you still be alive?

You were left there…dying slowly as blood started to spill out of you.

He manages to get on ‘stage’ and cradle you in his arms sobbing.

“No…y/n sob don't please!” The man cried.

As the crowd begin to lessen he carries you in his arms but he was stopped by the guards who later on snatched the corpse from him.

All he can do is watch you get taken away again.

This…is what happens when you frame your own wife. Saying that she's been sleeping with a lot of men and accusing her of carrying another man's child…

When in reality…it was you (talking about himself not readers) all along.

In Valhalla

He was walking around searching for his room when he came across a beautiful woman…

She looks exactly like you.

And she was holding a child that looked exactly like him.

But the thing is, someone else wrap his arms on your waist pulling you closer.

And it was…none other than

Hades