#feels like HE failed for not convincing them to change course

[sunshowersanddandelionwine]

au where ghost, by recommendation of his therapist, starts writing as a hobby. its not very helpful, at least at first. it feels like a chore, but ghost is nothing if not tenacious. hes going to prove the doc wrong and show them that he cant be helped. his journals (because he was going to give this thing his all, and handwriting everything was the best way to do it) are mostly a lot of angry scribbled thoughts and self loathing. but slowly, over time, things start to shift. more positive things start peppering the anger and the melancholy. the whole process feels less like a burden and more like a release.

then he starts writing less reality. more little anecdotes sprinkled with a smidge of hyperbole. some outlandish dreams he had the previous night. small fictions that still act as an outlet for his feelings.

as his skills grow, his therapist suggests writing a novel. something long term and sustained to put his little hobby to the test. its a commitment, sure, and a lot of work to get there, but hes never shied away from a challenge before. like with everything in his life, he dives in chest first.

the doc wasnt wrong, writing the thing was rough. borderline impossible sometimes. but slowly, storylines rise and fall. characters grow and change. the manuscript begins, and just as uneventfully it ends. he wrote a novel. now what?

nothing, he decides. it was catharsis, nothing more nothing less. but then some little shits (roach and gaz) find the bound stack of papers in his office (purposefully hidden under some overdue paperwork) and BEG him to let them read it. he isnt sure at first, but the puppydog eyes work and he reluctantly relents.

hes expecting ridicule, maybe some teasing compliments or even critiques. he wasnt expecting the two of them to ambush him the next day, half feral and wanting more. they spent the entire night reading it, nearly missing the start of breakfast because they were too engrossed.

somehow, they convince him to try for an agent. somehow, he manages to snag one. somehow, that agent loves his work enough to pitch it to several publishing houses (under a pseudonym, of course). and somehow, it gets picked up for publication.

holding the glossy hardback all that time later, ghost isnt sure what happened. he isnt sure how in the world he went from alone and angry, grieving and isolated, to this. the book is somehow a bestseller, with rave reviews all over the place. its honestly kind of nerve wracking??? the only people who know about him and it are his team. (price definitely didnt shed a tear when presented with a signed first edition copy. the sergeants absolutely did.)

he isnt sure how to feel when the new sergeant joins, all knife smiles and cutting words, waltzing into his base with a battered copy of that very book under his arm. a battered copy filled to the brim with red pen and tabs, scribbled criticism that cuts the story to the bone and picks apart every little failing scrawled in every margin. it should annoy him. it should make him hate the man, one john mactavish, all that much more.

he cant help but find him fascinating.

(maybe he might even get some ideas for the next book. thats the only reason he cant stop seeking his opinions.)

[neriyon]

What was their initial impression of the four claimants? How did this change over the course of the story?

( 22 Dawntrail Inspired WoL/OC Questions )

Wuk Lamat: Oh Hawu'li loved Wuk Lamat right from first meeting her in Old Sharlayan. They are very similar in personality, and immediately bonded over food. She might've been a bit naiive, but so is Hawu'li, so he'd probably not even notice. She clearly loves her people and wants to help them - that's all you could ever ask from a leader, right? It was only when Gulool Ja Ja voiced his worries to him privately that he even thought to stop and think about everything for a while. Luckily she did a lot of growing on her own, eventually convincing everyone she really could handle this responsibility.

Koana: Funnily enough, Koana's aloof and a bit snobbish personality originally reminded Hawu'li a bit about his older brother, Hawu'to (researcher in Old Sharlayan). He loved his second brother to bits, but also often felt like he was a bit too stupid to understand what Hawu'to was talking about. Or to see his grand visions for future. Same with Koana - boy was clearly smart and had so many innovations, but felt a bit... mechanical? Bit too detached from the reality of someone who lives very "heart first brain second".

Later on, when Koana got to show consern for his sister and even went a bit feral to protect her there was this small "oh." in Hawu'li haha. He started paying more attention to the other catboy, took notice of the occasional awkwardness and kind heart beneath it, and started looking forward to meeting him again. I've not yet decided where they end up going forward, but they definitely kissed when Koana shows up in your inn room and are now, at the end of current msq, at some sort of "we'll explore this and see where it goes" situation.

Zarool Ja: Zarool Ja came off as very stoic and withdrawn, but not necessarily a threat? Sure, even Hawu'li raised his eyebrows a bit at this man's mentions of war and conquest, but in his "everyone means well" personality he just assumed Zarool Ja had some secret plan under it. Or that he was just a bit misguided, and would get the little jolt back to more peaceful track during the contest. How wrong he ended up being... Hawu'li honestly still feels pretty bad that he didn't take Krile's words serious enough. That he inadvertly caused the attack on Tuliyollal by ignoring the warning signs. It also reminded him of the whole thing with Zenos, making him a bit moody for a while (dw, he got over it after moping around a bit and talking about it with both G'raha and Krile), but in the end he once again had to accept that he wasn't responsible for actions of others and that Zarool Ja's hatred was as unyielding as Hawu'li's conviction to protect the peace.

Bakool Ja Ja: Hmm, Bakool Ja Ja was more of a bully right from the start, so Hawu'li actually felt like the man would deserve to get bonked with a staff a few times to teach him a lesson. Or like, a really long lecture. He did think that Bakool Ja Ja was young and possibly afraid of... something, causing him to act like that, but the actual reveal still came as a complete surprise. He felt sympathy, of course (as he always does), but still had this strong annoyance over his actions putting so many lives at risk just to get ahead in a competition. There definitely were some angry hissing and a long lecture after everything haha, but he hasn't given up hope that Bakool Ja Ja would change really after all this, like he seemed to be doing after the invasion.

[tossawary]

That "even if you're writing a non-canon pairing in fanfiction, you have to respect that these characters will probably still care on a basic level about their original love interest" post was inspired by a lot of things. But foremost inspired by any "Fullmetal Alchemist" fanfiction that tries to convince me that Edward Elric doesn't actually like Winry Rockbell at all.

Like, uh, no. Ed would die for Winry, so jot that down. Even if you're writing an AU where one or both of them are gay, which is fun and fine, Ed and Winry are ride or die for each other. They've known each other for so long. They trust each other so much. When they're arguing with each other or annoying the other, it's because THEY CARE. This is basic characterization for them.

I was amusing myself by thinking about an AU in which Ed's romantic interest is someone like Ling Yao, in which there's some dangerous situation where Ed has to choose between saving Winry (his sister figure in this AU) and saving Ling. I was immediately like, "Oh, he would FOR SURE pick Winry in most scenarios. Sorry, Ling." Which would suck for Ed, because he hates failing to save anyone, but is also funny to think about with Ling specifically, because I think that Ling would actually respect this decision more.

Unlike Winry, Ling is a combatant with bodyguards, and so can be trusted to handle himself in dangerous situations. (Which obviously does not make Ling a BETTER love interest for Ed than Winry, Winry doesn't need to be good at fighting, it's just a different skillset.) Ling is also a leader, someone who wants to be an emperor someday, and I think he has opinions on loyalty. Despite feeling grateful to be saved, I think Ling might think quite poorly of Ed choosing him (a relative stranger, even if he is a legit snack) over Winry (functionally a member of Ed's family / clan, a skilled specialist who is necessary to Ed's own combat capabilities), because Ed sure as shit wouldn't be considering future political advantages with Xing here, so it would be choosing a new love over family / a loyal friend. Depending on the scenario (it all depends on the specific situation for all of these cases), I also think that Ling might choose to save someone like Lan Fan or even Mei Chang over Ed in a lot of situations, especially because Ed would HATE IT SO MUCH if Ling knowingly sacrificed anyone for his sake.

Non-canon pairings and their AUs are interesting to me partially for how they interact with the existing canonical relationships and how they negotiate with canonical motivations. For some characters, romantic relationships are just not as important as familial ones or their own goals. Obviously, for Edward Elric, (depending on the specific situation at hand, of course) he's going to choose Alphonse over nearly anyone else.

[vicariousresearcher]

concept: hybrid needing a knot during their heat but none of the 141 has one...........they learn that two dicks is a good replacement

cw: heat, hybrid!reader, afab reader, double pen, underwear stealing, degradation, dub-con ish not really.

Canine hybrid! Reader who's been a bitch lately.

Mouthing off, flashing teeth, scrapping your claws at the leather collar banded over your throat, snarling like the feral animal you were when you first came to them.

Just being an absolute hellion to be around. 

The team think it ends there though. Just some mood swings and being territorial. You’ll get over whatevers bothering you.

You however were keenly aware of the changes going through your body; the restlessness that itched in your muscles, the almost overstimulating nature of even the most basic things, the more primitive part of your brain lighting up.

And of course the slick between your thighs. Having to change your panties in the morning because you’d soaked them through. And that's of course just throughout the nights. Days are worse. Spending all that time with the team, your body trying its hardest to convince you that the friendly pat on your shoulder was, in fact, not platonic.

And it's just getting worse the longer you ignore it. Accumulating in you locking yourself in your room after you were dumb enough to spar with Soap. All chidding comments and tangled limbs.

Getting tossed and restrained. Snapping teeth only to get a tug on your ear. Your face getting slammed into the mat and a goading ‘all that attitude and this is all you can do?’

Completely ignorant to the heat simmering under your skin and the patch of fabric between your legs where you’d soaked through to your pants.

……..

You practically ran away with your tail between your legs. Pissy and annoyed. Gaz saw the glare in your eyes as you walked past him in the hallway, recalling how Soap said the way to get you out of your funk was to beat it out of you because of course Soap thought that would work.

Didn’t take long for him to find the Scot and prod for some answers to what exactly he did. Rubbing some brain cells together they decided maybe a better solution was to be nice. Ask you to come watch a movie with em in the common room as an apology.

…….

They should’ve knocked, both decided silently. Assumed that you were in your room fuming and pacing like a caged lion.

What they didn’t expect to see was this.

Their dignified teammate, their hybrid, like this.

Lights off, straddling a pillow, bare from the waist down. Pitiful mewls muffled by the bunched-up fabric in your hand. Pressing it over your mouth and nose. Sticky noises from how fervently rode the slick soaked pillow. Choking when the seam caught over your clit.

All it took was one too thick swallow and your flattened ears perked up. Eyes snapping to the doorway. 

Took all of five seconds for you to retreat into the corner of your bed. A death grip on the pillow between your legs to maintain a semblance of dignity. The sneer on your face a perfect picture of humiliation and anger.

“This is why you ran off so quick?” Gaz said with a chuckle, breaking the silence. Pity creasing his brows as he connected the reason to your sudden change in behaviour.

He’s the one that moved first, leaving Soap at the door who was currently rebooting as he saw that the fabric in your hand was his boxers.

Took the time to adjust the chubbing in his pants before kicking the door shut. 

Pillows fluffed and padded around the bed like some sort of nest. Blankets-no-clothes strewn about. Ghosts hoodie here, Gaz’s track pants there. The shirt you wore having ‘Price’ on the breast. Just proving you’d been suffering like this for a while. Long enough to collect all this.

Your ears pinned back at their approach. Growl failing. Too high pitched, a needy whine.

The mattress sinks when Gaz places a knee on it. Up close he can see how dilated your pupils are. Feel the feverish heat your skin is emitting. One look and he knows you’ve gone nonverbal like how you do during stress on the field.

“Jesus, you had Price worried. Thought something was actually wrong with how you’ve been actin’.” 

Gaz says with a half smile. Like this was fucking funny or something-

As if seeing the impending snarl he closes in. Calloused hand smoothing over the side of your head, scratching the base of your ear affectionately. Voice sweet enough for the condescension to be drowned out.

“Shhh, you’re okay. It’s okay, pup. We’ll help.” 

Gaz’s smell is almost paralyzing. Dizzying in a way that makes you want to crack open his rib cage and live in his skin. You don’t even notice how your legs have been coaxed apart from the death grip you had on the pillow. 

Then Soap is up to your side, eyes locked down on the mess between your legs. Clit raw and puffy from your attempts at relief. Saliva building up in his mouth in anticipation of getting his face shoved between those thighs. Would you cry? Squirm? Pull his hair and ride his face?

Gaz’s patronizing voice in your ear stealing your attention long enough for Soap's fingers to ghost along your folds. A whine bubbles out of your throat when you flinch back. 

“Fuckin’ jumpy mutt.”

The look the two of them share is lost on you as you get manhandled. Soap wedges his hands under your ass and drags you forward so Gaz can slip in behind you. Your spine going rigid against Gaz’s chest as he flattens you against him, hooking his legs under yours and propping you open.

Long fingers clenched over your jaw, Gaz dragging your attention back to him. The look of uncertainty yet desperation on your face was enough to make him laugh.

“What? You don’t want him to touch you no more? You sit in here huffing his boxers like a dirty mutt but now that you have the real thing you shy away? Come on pup…” 

He kept his hold on your jaw while the other snakes around to hitch up your shirt's hem, letting Soap work without hindrance. Forcing you to keep your eyes on him. 

Soap doesn’t even have to work his fingers into you. Slick dripping onto the bed. Two sliding in so easily.  

“How often have you been like this hm? Is this why you disappear throughout the day? To get off?”

Three had your thighs jolting, straining over Gaz’s thighs. 

“Bitch in heat huh?” Soap says as he breaks his focus on your cunt to look at you. Neck arched back so your head can rest on Gaz’s shoulder. Lips parted to let out pathetic whines and whimpers. Gaz’s hand going under the hoodie to paw at your chest like he’s been wanting to since he set eyes on the obedient little hybrid who’d rip out throats at his suggestion. 

Four has your pussy squelching and wetness pooling into Soaps palm. A groan falling from his mouth at the sight. Freehand unclipping his belt.

“Stealing our stuff too? Hell, you even got some of Prices shit in here, you want to fuck him too? I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear bout that.”

The way your gaze slid down to him, humiliated yet so turned on made his grin widen. Cock straining against the seam of his pants.

“Doesn’t need any more prep.” Soap addressed Gaz from over your shoulder, pulling his fingers out of you. Showing off the excessive wetness in the low light, a shit eating grin on his face. “Mutt took care of that already.”

They just moved you like some doll. Soap taking you off of Gaz and setting you on top to straddle his hips while Gaz worked at his own pants. His hand presses down on your shoulder blades to see your spine arch all proper while he settles in behind.

Their obedient pet, kneeling on all fours, back bent and ass raised. 

Fluffy tail wagging as Soap hitched up the shirt so he could grope at her tits. Swollen and sensitive and needing a pup to latch onto them. 

The sound that came out of you when he took your nipple was pornographic. Shrill and needy, no semblance of the respectable hybrid of the 141.

Gaz was the first to push in. Gummy heat overwhelming, like nothing he’d ever felt. Not an ounce of friction.

“Hybrids can’t get pregnant from humans right?” Gaz asked, pulling out till just the tip was in. Head swimming. He only earned a bark of laughter from Soap.

“One pump chump huh?”

“Fuck off you haven’t been in her yet-“ 

You flattening your ass against his hips cut off the conversation. The feeling of him bottoming out finally scratching that itch that’s been building under your skin for days. 

Gaz tries to say something bout you being a “greedy mutt” but you just keep moving. Chasing that tightening feeling in your stomach. Slapping back hard against his hips so he can reach as deep as possible. 

Only for him to pull out when your bounces got more frantic. A growl builds in your throat, ears pinned back when you whipped your head around. 

“Was wondering where that attitude went,” Soap smirked, notching his fat cockhead against your entrance. 

They just kept on with this. Taking turns plunging into your pussy because neither of them are willing to stick their dicks between your teeth or risk the potential freak out with your ass. A silent competition to see who’ll cum first.

As soon as they’d feel that heat build up in their stomach they’d pull out only for the other to lodge in. Never leaving you empty for a second 

Drool dripped onto Soap's collarbone, Gaz’s fingers lodged between your teeth to keep you from latching onto Soap's neck and marking him. They weren’t stupid enough to enable that at least. Price would have their heads.

Not that you cared. Brain fuzzy as the restlessness you'd been dealing with for days got dealt with. Gaz’s position lets his batter against your cervix while Soap's dick curves perfectly so that his shallower movements let him grind against your g-spot.

All growls thinned out into whines as they both jeered and jabbed at you and each other. Gaz thumbing over your rim, Soap rough fingers meanly pinching at your puffy clit. Their stupid little hybrid who only took a couple hard thrusts and friction to cum.

Yet that wasn’t enough. You needed more to be satisfied. To be filled. Fulfill the animalistic purpose to be pinned down and bred.

Didn’t take long for either of them to get to the end of their ropes. Slowly pushing themselves into overstimulation from the repeated edging, pulling out just as they felt their balls tighten only to have to let the other shove past to get inside of you.

Blubbering came from you, attempts of begging. More you needed more. More of them. Needed to be stuffed full. Claws digging into Soaps shoulders to create bloody crescents. Crying out when Gaz slipped in too early. Bullying in to force you to fit them both. Stretch bordering on painful, eyes rolling back in your head. Coil snapping at the feeling of what your body can only understand to be being knotted.

Your clenching walls force them both still beyond small, deep thrusts. Between you and the feeling of grinding against Soap's veins send Gaz over the edge first. Your cunt fluttering as if milking all of his load. Rapid enough to finish off Soap. 

Fucked dumb was the best word for you at this point. Overstimulating from the feeling of being stretched by two dicks, the smell of both of their sweat gives you a heady feeling. A lingering taste of copper in your mouth from breaking through Gaz’s skin.

They let you collapse into your nest once pulling out. Shaking thighs and a tear-streaked face. Soap scoops up a fingerful of his and Gaz’s cum and pushes it back into your quivering pussy.

Your whine earning mean laughs. Tail thumping against the pillows. Ready for round two. 

……

Later a video is sent into the group chat with a text underneath saying ‘teaching the dog new tricks.’

[ravengards-rogue]

WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ; 

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur. 

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun. 

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him. 

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate. 

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn���t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy. 

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures. 

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember. 

 Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him. 

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain. 

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down. 

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something. 

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while. 

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately. 

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you. 

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish. 

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting. 

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit. 

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs. 

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,” 

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,” 

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,” 

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.” 

You giggle back at him 

“What kinda trouble is that now?” 

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice. 

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.” 

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.” 

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly. 

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn. 

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted. 

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it. 

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily. 

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

 Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show. 

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp. 

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms. 

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine. 

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that. 

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.) 

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did. 

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it.  It was just all too easy again, to be with you. 

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family. 

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see.  Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

 It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street. 

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy.  John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you. 

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you. 

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision. 

You might turn him into a literate man yet. 

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life. 

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself. 

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck. 

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?” 

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you. 

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,” 

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat. 

“John,”  

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.” 

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,” 

“A foolish one,” 

John laughs. 

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving. 

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get.  He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently. 

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.) 

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters. 

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living. 

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is)  loyal to Dutch. To the gang. 

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after. 

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long. 

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time.  He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about. 

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around. 

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen.  If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing. 

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.) 

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit. 

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would. 

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d  never find again. 

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves. 

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too. 

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way  they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you. 

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him. 

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him.  You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,” 

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease.  All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides.  You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space. 

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words. 

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.” 

Darling as you always are, you nod softly. 

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ; 

Wandering. 

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on. 

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly. 

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains. 

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few. 

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it. 

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list. 

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

 You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are. 

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him. 

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some. 

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you.  And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything. 

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not. 

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss. 

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars. 

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze. 

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks. 

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?” 

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” 

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?” 

“Please, what?” 

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.” 

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life.  “Yeah, that’s good to hear.” 

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto. 

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head. 

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,” 

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires. 

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you. 

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed. 

“Kiss?” 

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[ybklix]

you can be the boss

★ pairing: softdom!chrisbang x inexperienced!femreader PART THREE ♡ part one / part two

☆summary: What started fast, you wished it wouldn't end fast, because ever since you met Chris it has been an adventure of new experiences and emotions you never thought you would feel, yet the weight of something that started out being wrong was finally getting to you.

✧ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, petnames, oral sex, boobplay, edging, cunnilingus, fingering, orgasm denial, daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, hints of fluff.

word count: 8.8k

masterlist - taglist ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

a/n: hello, this became a short series, welcome, part 4 soon, hope u understand and like it, I tried w the fluff

Everything was fine, except for the fact that you were lying to everyone's face, even though you felt it shouldn't be that way in the first place, Chris was no longer in a relationship with someone else right now and neither were you when you met him, you still had that little feeling of disgust after all and deep down you wanted to go back to being you, that naive girl who didn't care for a second about the fact that he was someone else's boyfriend, of not taking the relationship seriously because of the already well known history and pattern of couples of a woman like Ruby and worst of all, was that you couldn't hate her, beyond her slightly unfriendly face and fake personality, but she was still decent and nice to you, of course, before you knew it was you who was now with Chris, now you had no idea what they were like and didn't want to find out, you were fine with him, sneaking around in your free time after class, ignoring everyone and your parents filling you with messages asking you all the time if you were still on campus and if you were already heading to your dorm, lying and just saying yes, when the reality was otherwise.

You had never had your parents on you for years, just this very moment when the small relationship you had with Chris was more than known and public, Chris, the man who offered them his home to spend a few weeks in the summer and was slightly but at the same time significantly older than you… that was all the information your poor father had because he had no further interest in knowing for him, he was only at his house for Dahlia and you as he thought it would be a good distraction for you along with your cousin-friend your age with whom you got along so well, but Dahlia was only there for Ruby, who insisted on it, and after so many years, for the first time ever, she saw her so excited and enthusiastic about someone. Ruby was somewhat complicated with her relationships and all the time the poor thing blamed herself feeling that it ended up being her fault in some way or another and Chris was no exception, in the end he broke up with her, causing her a slight insecurity, bigger than her past relationships because this time she was really convinced that she would stay with Chris, that he would eventually ask her to move in together and they would be happy forever… but the reality was different and seeing you together only reopened the wound she thought she had closed, she was fine, she just felt awful and terrible for experiencing another failed relationship in her almost thirties, but she still looked so young, her image was enviable and she could have whoever she wanted, she was fine, or at least she pretended to be when she didn't think too much about Chris as she respected his decision so much despite it not being a mutual breakup, but everything changed just by seeing you with him, as her mind idealized the perfect infidelity that it all happened quickly at his summer house, which was quite true and her crazy thoughts were not so far from reality.

On the other hand, your father didn't know what to say that time on the phone as the first time you discussed it was through a phone call, as he couldn't just show up unexpectedly at the university, the chances of meeting you there in a fixed place were so low so he had to confront you through the phone, he didn't know what to tell you, he just asked you for an explanation which you didn't have in concrete, it had just happened, deep down you believed the real reason for his call was Dahlia, who wanted to hear something from you about the situation since she found out from a very agitated and upset Ruby, but you have been avoiding them ever since, in fact, you have been avoiding all of them.

Chris's arms managed to soothe you for the moment, they made you realize that when you were next to him everything was fine… but when you weren't next to him the little guilt came back to hit you coldly. You came to think about the situation, with a shudder and disgust, that you had taken a man away from a woman that maybe they had plans to marry, they were both grown up and knew their families, well at least you knew that about Chris towards Ruby, you didn't know exactly if she knew Chris's family, you didn't know how they met, if they lived together and how serious they were, though at the end of the day… for him to give in and get to you, you immediately deduced that they weren't serious after all, but you with Chris, you did want to be very serious. You didn't want to know those details but at the same time you were so curious, you were starting to feel insecure.

Your little thoughts persisted and unconsciously you walked away and Chris noticed, you walked away from him, suddenly you were so busy and tired that you just came to your dorm room, texted him goodnight and repeated your cycle of your ordinary life before him, where your day was based on college.

You didn't know what to do, you knew they weren't your family directly, you didn't want to think about it too much either but maybe it was just the stress of college combined with the new feeling of dealing with a man like Chris, although you wouldn't directly use that term to address him, you just decided to blame the slight stress on you accumulated with the new feelings forming more and more strongly in you.

And in the middle of a class, you remembered him. You missed him, god you missed him so much, but Chris was very respectful of your space and understood that you were busy at the university but it had been days without feeling his touch, suddenly you remembered him, the sweet touch of his skin against yours, the closeness of his body and his tender but dominant presence near you, all of him, you needed him now to turn off your feelings and take the stress away from you, besides it had been a heavy day, you still had to see him, you had him for yourself and you didn't take the opportunity, now you felt the need to get him.

All you told him was if you could see each other to which he quickly responded in that he would pick you up and be in the west side university parking lot near your dorm building. You lied to him a little about what time he could pick you up as he was so sweetly punctual and you wanted to get to your dorm, shower and get ready to see him as you knew the chances were so high that meeting him would mean you'd be so inevitably pleased. You wore a nice skirt and top, did your makeup and hair for the first time in the rushed and stressful college week and went out happy, with no other thought but to finally see him.

In the distance, you saw him looking so handsome, wearing comfortable but formal black cloth pants and a collared shirt of the same color, tight to his body, making him look so good and highlighting his almost porcelain skin, he smiled broadly at you upon seeing you and you noticed that he didn't have empty hands, but a nice bouquet of flowers accompanied him, as you approached just steps away from him, you finally breathed in his scent, you breathed the same air so close and dared to hug him, an act that he reciprocated immediately, wrapping his strong arms around you, you needed him so much, you wanted to hug him every day if it was possible.

Chris resented your absence and estrangement so much that he was going out of his way to let you know that he really liked you and that he was taking every time you spent together seriously, he gave you a little kiss on top of your head before pulling away. All your silly thoughts were gone once you were with him, you didn't even remember the disappointed expressions of your family that you imagined so much, nor was there anyone else but the two of you.

“For you, I really thought I was going to see you until the weekend” he mentioned sweetly, handing you the bouquet of pink flowers.

You looked at him tenderly, no one had ever given you flowers or small gifts suddenly just for the sake of it, just because he missed you and was coming back to see you after days, it was like he was celebrating that he is finally close to you again, Chris was quite the man.

“Thank you, Chris.”

You were blushing. Your whole body burned sweetly and you moved closer to him to give him a quick kiss on the lips, an act which he took advantage of and didn't let it be fleeting, instead he grabbed you from your lower back pulling you to his body to join more passionately in a real and long lasting kiss, in a feast of delicious movements and exploration that you so longed for and missed, his full lips against yours, his nose on your face, his muscular body attached to yours, your arms around him, you almost fell weak again at his touch, but he was holding you so tightly.

“I missed you” he whispered as he pulled away minimally, brushing your lips.

Chris smiled. His nose playing with yours, nuzzling.

“Me too, that's why I called you” you replied, mesmerized in the provocative playfulness that was having his face so close.

Chris licked his lips, the sweet and tender was becoming darker and darker as the seconds ticked by and you felt his breath hit your face, there was so much tension all of a sudden in such a public place. He analyzed you, his piercing but soft gaze watching you from above, he looked so good every time he watched you like that, you adored every angle of him, you could get down on your knees and suck him off right there, or push yourself back on your heels to catch his lips again and kiss him for a long time, you could do anything with him.

“I always want to see you. Don't let days go by without seeing you, I can't” he confessed.

You smiled warmly, joy filling every inch of you for having him. You were the same as you were just over a month ago, warm bodies under a hot sun in his house, but at the same time it felt like something changed in you, being able to see each other at any time, under the stars, without having to hide.

Chris was proud to have you, his time of reflection had passed in which he doubted whether to let you go, let you do your normal life, dating a college boy your age… but he couldn't allow that, he didn't see you with anyone else but him, you were his and that filled every part of him. Your relationship wasn't the best, he was a man with his life made and you were a young woman still seeing for her future, but he didn't care, he wanted to be there for you, smoothing the long journey that is having to build your own life and future, plus he was sure that no other immature guy was going to treat you and take care of you the way he planned to.

“Okay, come see me every day. I'm free from 2 to 5, then I take two classes and go to the dorm.”

“We can do so many things in those three hours, why hadn't you told me?”

He teased sweetly starting to stroke your back, the tension was building again, but some young men walking quietly through the parking lot distracted you from your own bubble.

Chris cleared his throat and the two of you slowly separated.

“Well, get in the car, princess,” he smiled at you.

He opened the door for you, he fastened your seatbelt as a perfect excuse to be close to your body, getting his head in, you appreciated him, his structured profile and his large hands and arms delicately sliding the belt to buckle you in, you breathed in his perfume, you boldly saw the veins in his arms and hands, almost drooling over him, you hadn't been touched in days.

But your inner fire ceased a little, when he turned to see you with an adorable smile closing his eyes. Chris rounded the car and sat behind the wheel.

“Did you have something planned for today, baby girl?” he spoke starting the car.

His sudden little nicknames for you always made you blush.

“Mm, not today, I just wanted to see you.”

He smiled even wider, stretching his handsome face as he showed pure happiness at having you.

“Mmm well, we can take advantage of one of the last warm nights since the cold autumn is coming.”

You frowned, not sure what he was referring to. But you could tell he had something on his mind.

“Oh, okay…”

You decided to leave it like that, seeing it as a surprise as to what you could do. On the way you both talked, Chris was also busy on a project, but as soon as you called him, he stopped it and went running to get ready to see you, you felt bad, but he told you that you shouldn't feel that way, that he was the boss anyway and could stop his work from time to time when he wanted to. You blushed, everything about him was so structured, he was a man with a life, but he was lonely and you were more than happy to be that someone to keep him company.

He caressed your bare thigh from time to time and you shyly put your hand on his, feeling his strong, long fingers in your warm palm. You were so comfortable with him, the way he spoke appealingly focused on the road and seeing you momentarily but doing it in such a detailed way… within minutes, you decided to look around when you noticed he was slowing down and recognized the place right away, his house near the beach. You felt a shiver, you had never seen it from that perspective at night, the front of his home at night, the slightly long driveway leading up to the main lot… you hadn't been there since you left and did so one afternoon with the strong sun on your body. It had been so quick, you and Chris acted fast after a fleeting week of secret meetings at his pool house and decided that you had to go, to slowly evict everyone, his ex-girlfriend being the last pawn to remove. Once again, you felt slightly bad for her. Recapping your plan sounded so cynical and heartless, you met, and liked each other, when he was in a relationship and plotted how he should break up with her to be with you, kind of heartless, but there was nothing else to do, it was almost like Chris was waiting for you, designed for you, he looked so mismatched with Ruby anyway, you wanted to convince yourself. In the end, he chose you, yes you acted with your hormones and senses in turmoil, like a heartless little bitch, but you got the man.

You looked at his home, it suddenly felt so distant and new from a different perspective, being now Chris's lover and not just a guest and stranger to him, you still remembered your magnetic first meeting. The time you met a man who you kept thinking of all the ways he could make you full and happy, but he only had one obstacle and impediment, which was so easy to remove, you were scared that what easy came into your hands could go away so easily too, you didn't want to walk away from Chris, there were nights when you were worried that you couldn't call him your boyfriend, there was a real bond that tied you to him, although the situation was so ironic and hypocritical, sometimes you weren't sure if you deserved such happiness so easily, doing wrong and getting good results. You wanted to be the same as you were more than a month ago, when none of that mattered to you more than the sweet tobacco taste of Chris's lips on yours, you didn't know why you were overthinking it so much, he wasn't dating anyone else anymore, he made that clear to you.

“We haven't been here alone, ever” he spoke suddenly, parking the car.

You were engrossed with the facade of his home, that his deep voice resonated with you, you turned to see him with a smile. You wanted everything to be special with you too, you didn't want to feel in the shadow of his ex-girlfriend even though you'd only seen them interact for a week, Liv's voice saying they'd lasted six months and knowing each other since January echoed in your head so annoyingly.

“It's all ours now” he repeated again.

His words only calmed you down a little. And you got out of the car as soon as he opened the door for you. There was no reason to feel somehow unhappy, when it was right there where it all started, his simple kiss, his first touch and now it was yours, making it more than clear that he had completely forgotten about Ruby, but you didn't understand why it still wasn't so clear to you.

Chris noticed your expression, grabbed you by the waist and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” he whispered softly, making your hair stand on end.

You stopped dead in your tracks, surprising Chris but he stopped with you, you turned to see him, and just before you entered his house, you saw him with huge bright eyes, begging, but not in a sexual way, you were begging to know that you were the only woman he wanted to have in his life, you wanted to know, you were hungry for it but you couldn't find the right words, plus each and every one of his actions were right but you wanted a confirmation from him, in words, that he wouldn't leave you and that he was truly feeling that connection and great magnetism, as personas, souls and not just bodies.

“What, baby girl?” he let out a chuckle, touched and with his brow gently furrowed, confused by your act.

He wasn't so sure if you could ever feel comfortable again in a place where you met him having someone else, but he wanted to try, getting sizzling hot moments where nothing could turn you off. Chris caressed your face, you were pouting softly.

“Mmm, nothing.”

“It's definitely something, tell me all about it, sweetheart” he sounded so understanding, such a soft, sweet tone that you wanted to hear every day.

“I want you” you confessed.

Chris knew exactly what you meant by that phrase, he wanted you too, as much as you wanted him, but he was waiting and idealizing so much for the perfect and indicated moment.

“I want you, too. I want everything from you” he replied softly.

His answer made you uneasy but calmed you at the same time, leaving you confused, he took to running his hands through your arms and hugged you. Leaving you with your mind swimming. But you didn't say anything else, you stayed there, thinking that maybe you shouldn't rush things.

You followed him into the house, it looked so different, with no one around, just you and him, that was your dream, something you longed for but couldn't help but feel empty in a way, it wasn't the material, but something deep inside you, but it all made sense, when Chris took a few steps ahead of you, and you saw him with his back turned, with his house in the background, you understood and every corner shined again. Just you and him, forgetting everything. Being what you always were, an inevitable cute mess attracted to each other.

“Have you had dinner yet? I can make dinner here” he spoke sweetly.

You nodded, “I'm fine, and you?”

He too nodded softly.

“Then... let's enjoy ourselves, I prepared the pool for us before the weather turns completely cold.”

You smiled at him, “Mm... you want to go to the pool?” you said seductively, moving closer to him until you joined your body to his again.

He was so captivated by you and the way you saw him and approached him, the night was perfect, so quiet, being able to kiss in his foyer without any trouble, only hearing each other and the faint, distant sound of crickets chirping and the night itself.

“But I don't have a bathing suit” you replied, playing with him and pouting.

“You can get in naked” he joked to which you were surprised and he laughed, “Let's go upstairs to my room, I have something for you.”

He took you by the hand, his warm big hand holding you, guiding you to a room you had never entered as it was too risky back then, his room, the master bedroom which he accompanied with a certain woman who made you shiver just thinking about it. Still, you inspected every detail of the room. You liked it but your face was more than obvious.

“I changed everything” Chris suddenly blurted out, “It's another bed, other sheets...”

Chris understood the importance and level of things, he was trying to put himself in your shoes and imagining the idea that someone else had you and touched you before him truly drove him crazy, he couldn't even bear to imagine it, then he understood that you met him 'having the heart' of another woman, so you might find it difficult, but the truth was that now genuinely, it was all yours.

His comments awakened something in you, the fact that he paid attention to those details to make you understand as if she had never existed in his life, reassured your inner self.

“And this...” you said.

You noticed a nice white bikini and a shopping bag with a designer logo on the bed, next to a nice dress next to it, you thought you weren't ready for gifts, although in reality you were, but you didn't know what to do about it, other than tell him thank you, you didn't know what to give Chris back, you were a college girl living in a dorm with another girl and this semester he wouldn't let you take a part time job, you wanted to give him something too. He slowly approached you with perilous steps and with a tenderly joyful expression came back to tell you:

“This is also for you, I saw it and immediately thought of you, how much I want to see you in it...”

You were caused tenderness by his way of saying it. But something about him was still so captivating and seductive. He was all a dream, how could you leave him.

“Oh... Chris...”

“Don't be modest, let me shower you with gifts, I want to. A thank you is fine with me, if you can think of other ways to say thank you, you can always tell me” he mentioned as he saw your slightly worried expression, his last comment came out somewhat impishly from him.

“Thank you” you leaned in closer, giving him a kiss on his soft, clean cheek.

“You're welcome, baby doll. I want you to wear it on a special day, what are you doing this weekend? Can we see each other?”

“I'll be free” you replied with a smile.

“Perfect” he smiled, “Now relax a little and let's go to the pool, water's warm. Let me get you dressed.”

The naturalness with which he said the last sentence made you freeze in a good way, blushing. You nodded, waiting for him, Chris walked over to you with an adorable smile plastered on his face and leaned over to whisper to you:

“Let daddy dress her doll.”

He and his damn habit of calling himself daddy, it made you angry because it accomplished something indescribable to you. It made you so hot in seconds. The closeness of his mouth on your ear and his light brush against your loose hair made your skin bristle. You almost swallowed nervously, but you looked at him again with pleading eyes, this time in a sexual mode and it drove Chris crazy, your inexplicable, innocent aura he couldn't resist.

He let out a sigh, already aroused without even touching you until he grabbed the hem of your blouse, lifting it up, you raised your arms and let him undress you completely, starting from top to bottom, he removed your bra and admired your breasts, then he looked mischievously into your eyes and lowered his gaze again, Chris caught your right breast with his hand, he slightly roughly massaged both breasts with his hand and checked the hardness of your nipples, pinching them and just playing with what is his. You just stood there, firmly standing in front of him, letting him do with you what he wanted, enjoying the process.

Chris was still smiling mischievously and now it was his turn to remove your skirt and panties, getting down on his knees in front of you and once again, doing it slowly and admiring your mons pubis being covered by your underwear until finally taking it off. Needless to say, the obvious excitement in both of your bodies and the thoughts that inhabited both of your minds, lusting for each other. Your core was lubricating itself, throbbing more and more but your undoing was to feel his breath hit the skin of your pubis, where Chris deposited a soft kiss, squeezing your thigh and almost just out of curiosity or habit, he finely ran his fingertip along the length of your tight folds, driving you wild.

He stood up as if it was nothing, calmly taking the bikini and putting it on you seductively, but you noticed that he wasn't so calm at all; heavy breathing and a thick erection accompanied him. You were in a mess wondering how he was going to get rid of the bulge of arousal in his pants, you wondered if he was about to touch you as he put the little garments on you until he finally got you dressed.

You both made eye contact, he licked his lips, letting himself be carried away by you, at this point every muscle in your pussy was throbbing with eagerness and the sensation was unsettling and was only well attended to when Chris did it. So you couldn't stand it a second longer, your whole body was on fire just now and when you were like this you used to act on your own, taking steps that would initiate something with no return and dangerous, just like the first time you met him, when your poor sensitive pussy cried every time you saw him being himself so well, an uneasy feeling that drove you to him, telling him how much you wanted him to fuck you, when you had never even experienced sex. You knew he was so turned on too, so you understood there was only one more thing to do.

You finally reacted, impatient, eager for his hands on you. You reached out to him in a playful way and caressed his arm, feeling his defined muscles and the softness of his skin.

“Daddy…”

You caught his attention in a sweet way that you knew exactly what turned him on so much. You hadn't called him that and that only meant one thing, which carried with it many. You got his attention from the first second you approached him, but your sweet tone of voice calling him something so normal with such sexual undertones made his cock trapped in his pants throb in excitement.

“You're so hard, daddy” you continued, moving your hand from his arm down to his bulge, ”Can I help you?”

Chris bit his lip, indulging in your cute little game of seduction and provocation, nodding softly and leaving the palm of his right hand gently on your cheek.

“You're a good girl for daddy, wanting to help me. Go on, please take care of your daddy, my baby doll.”

His words aroused in you more craving and desire, unbuttoning the button of his pants, admiring the big bulge trapped in it and you managed to pull out his cock, so stiff and detonating for you. You loved every aching inch of him, Chris always knew how to use it on you and make you come all the way to the clouds.

You took his thick length, Chris moaned, his cock was desperate in your hands and you began to masturbate him, pulling on his member, stroking it gently, making you incredibly more horny.

“Is that okay, daddy?”

You looked into his eyes, Chris was struggling internally but he adored his little princess being there for him, servicing him.

“Just like that, my baby girl, you know you're doing excellent for daddy.”

Your soft hands were nothing compared to his, when the nights were lonely and he had to pleasure himself, but it made no sense for Chris to masturbate alone when he had you now, always so ready for him. Your delicate movements over the length of his cock were making him weak, he was being satisfied to perfection. The sound of his moans and skin on skin rubbing flooded his room.

Suddenly his glistening precum came out of his pink, foreplayed tip, making you salivate, making you so thirsty.

“Mm, daddy, can I use my mouth?”

“Please, princess” he whispered, grabbing your face but you quickly rose to your knees.

You kissed his glans, a sonorous soft kiss leaving pearly white stains on your lips which you savored by running your tongue on them to taste of him and finally you caught his throbbing limb with your mouth. You almost reached your orgasm as you felt his rigid shaft on your tongue, Chris was exquisitely delicious, his big cock and sweet personality made him the ideal man, you were so happy that he was the only one to ever touch you.

You stimulated him with care, Chris took hold of your hair gently, letting himself be carried away by the sensations you were provoking in him, while you delicately ran your tongue all over his cock, moistening it and then you sucked him at your pace, enjoying eating him, without him rushing you or pushing you too much. You were looking into his eyes and he would make eye contact with you when he wasn't throwing his head back or closing his eyes in pleasure.

“You're doing so good, baby, so-so good, mmm.”

You blushed at his rough voice, shyly played with his balls and kept taking his cock with your mouth, tongue and lips, enjoying every delicious big inch as if it was your favorite candy and weakening every corner of you, making you clench your legs tightly to feel your sweet wetness as you moved your legs.

His cock throbbed more in your mouth, you felt him so close, you could taste him.

“Open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue, princess.”

You heard him command and you did, pulling his cock out of your mouth in a resounding pop. You were so happy, your restless tongue waiting to receive your Chris's affection. He took the base of his well loaded cock, sucked air between his teeth, frustrated and excited and positioned a part of his cock and glans over your tongue, releasing himself on you, spraying you with every drop of his cum you managed to get out of him.

“Aghhh, good girl, good baby, fuck” Chris blurted out in exasperation, his pumping cock unloading onto your tongue, into your submissive position and your beady little eyes.

You swallowed it all and stood up with little balance. Chris settled his exposed cock and looked at your expression, you were so proud somehow, making him smile.

“Do you want daddy to make you feel better too?” he commented tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You shook your head. As much as you were so excited, your chest rising and falling in heavy, agitated breathing, you wanted to resist and now relax in his arms and into what he promised to be warm water.

“I'm fine, daddy. Did you like it?”

Chris chuckled. “I loved it, baby.”

You waited for Chris to get ready, leaving him in just shorts. And you kept the mindset of reassuring yourself, despite the sight of his worked abs and pecs.

He led you sweetly to the pool after your moment of adrenaline and rushed uproar of desire and hormones and you finally felt relaxed, every tense muscle from a heavy week was softening, the water felt so good to you, as did Chris's closeness. You couldn't help but cease your thoughts, his muscular body looked so good wet but soon you found yourself distracted by his topic of conversation; you both found yourself there, in the pool alone where you innocently played at innuendo without really thinking about all that some flirting would take you so far, now you were his.

You went back to talking about your little period of stress and Chris immediately offered to help you relax even more, you played with him, saying his attempts were in vain as you would be going back to college tomorrow anyway, he offered to let you stay, that he would take care of all that tomorrow and you he would take care of right now, offering you a gentle but strategic massage on your shoulders, squeezing your skin and pressing his thumbs into your muscles, it felt so good, you really needed some of him, he always knew what to do and more when it came to you.

You were moaning, genuinely from non-sexual pleasure, from relief. But Chris stopped suddenly, leaving you confused. He positioned himself in front of you, and you watched him, he looked like he was about to say something and he had to.

“I know what you meant earlier at the door” he began to speak, you looked at him expectantly and slightly confused, “I want to have you too and this is all so nice to me” Chris sighed, incredulous that he had to say it again in his now over thirty years, but it was worth it to him, because it was you, “I want to be with you. Will you be my girlfriend?”

You smiled suddenly, you expected anything but that, you nodded happily unable to form words and shyly reached out to hug him.

“I know the way you and I…”

You silenced him with a quick kiss, you didn't want to hear him justify the way the two of you met.

“It's okay” you answered him softly.

He smiled at you and caught your lips again, you kissed such sweetly, your bodies wet but losing more and more self control, leading him to hold you tighter from your back and waist and sizzlingly escalating every movement of lips and mouth.

You were making out from one moment to the next, a voracious hunger for each other constant and without thinking about it, you became aroused again, you didn't know what was happening, but it only happened that easy with Chris, just like from the first time you met him.

Chris knew how to read you very well and knew the restlessness in your body, the inner desperation that you suddenly have to be satisfied.

Pulling away, taking a breath and with pink lips, he looked at you tenderly and pouting softly.

“Mmm, are you sure you don't want me to make you cum tonight, baby girl? Make you feel good…”

You looked him straight in the eyes. Your gaze was dark. You were going to fuck him as your boyfriend at least, meaning the feelings were already there and it made your skin bristle with excitement.

“Or… do you want me to make it feel good” he added when he didn't get a response.

Chris acted fast, repositioning himself behind you, massaging your shoulders but you could tell the sexual and sensual connotation in his act, squeezing your skin and moments later he slid his hands down to your breasts, massaging them gently over the fabric of your garment. You turned your head to look at him, he was so close to you.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered to you.

“Yes…”

You were starting to lose yourself, you didn't even have to answer him, he already knew how you were right now. The sensation of your excited sex in the water felt so different. Chris positioned his face to the side of yours, watching as more and more of you let yourself go. He dared to pull up the little garment, leaving your breasts exposed to finally play with them freely, with his hand, kneading them vigorously to his liking, playing with the firmness of your nipple so sensitive to stimulation. You saw his big hands on your breasts, the bracelets on his wrists and his slender, manly fingers, squeezing your skin tightly; you were hopelessly horny again and wanted to have him right there.

You turned abruptly, again looking into his eyes, pleading for him to be the one to make you see stars this time, beyond the beautiful starry night you were living in.

“Chris… daddy…”

You were so excited, you weren't thinking straight, about to fuck him in the pool even though it didn't seem so appetizing for your taste, as the water would interrupt the deep lunges that your, now boyfriend, always used to give you. You looked so tender for him, helpless with your bikini top rolled up revealing your breasts.

“You can call me whatever you want, baby, just always remember to call me.”

Chris kissed you again, this time with your exposed breasts messily and shamelessly rubbing on his abs. He wanted to take you right there, but he knew that sex in the pool was such a desperate thing and he could make you feel so much better already out of it.

As he pulled away, he slid down from your top, smiling sweetly at you.

“Come on, let's go inside.”

You didn't think fast enough, the heat was taking over you, but you followed him, Chris sweetly wrapped your body in a towel as you felt the cold hit your body. He was so cute, the fact that you were so needy made you a little shy.

And finally, you were back inside. Chris frolicked with you, taking the towel and drying your hair and body delicately in little giggles. You said nothing and just let him do it. In the end you saw him embarrassed but happy. He looked at you tenderly.

“Aw, my sweet girl, come here.”

Chris was lost in you. He didn't know how, he did know when, but it happened, something he had never thought of as loving someone significantly younger to him seriously, he knew there would be some differences in the two of you, but he would manage to improve them over time. The next thing you felt was his lips and the loss of strength from holding your towel. Both towels on the floor, lips and bodies pressed together, your arms on his shoulders and your back against the wall, you were teasing each other again.

Your heart pounded, your bottom tingled in excitement and your mind was enjoying and processing that all these little moments with him would now henceforth be so natural for the two of you.

Chris lowered his caresses down to your ass, which he held and carried you from there without difficulty, making you wrap your legs around his torso and carried you up to his room.

He took care of everything, moving your dress and bag to a sofa in the room still with you in his arms, he left you lying gently on the bed, still with his body on top of you, not letting you think of anything else because he was already passionately kissing you again and the caresses of his right hand went down to your sensitive spot, pulling aside the thick fabric of the bathing suit to caress and stimulate your clit.

You felt that electric shock that only he could do, of being touched again. You were getting wetter, you felt the softness of your own wetness prepare your entrance and on the other hand, Chris was so hard again, he was so hard since he felt the softness of your young skin molding in his hands, from your sweet kisses of which he could have no end, so he continued to caress you, playing with the rhythm, making it slow, increasing the speed and treating your sensitive spot hard, pinching and pressing it, as he wanted to have you even needier.

His kisses lowered and you could moan at not having his lips against yours, this time being slightly moist, from your jaw to your neck, Chris was on the edge, so excited and ready to use his cock but he wanted to have you begging for it, so ready to finally feel it inside. You adored the feel of his soft lips on your neck, kissing, licking and nibbling lightly, not significantly intense enough to leave a mark but just to feel your skin, while his fingers finely work down into you, exciting you exquisitely. His kisses continued down until he reached your abdomen and his soft hair brushed against your skin, his lips and nose rubbing against you, finally finding his way to your much needed area that he kept stimulating. Chris smiled, pulling his hand away from you so he could remove your swimsuit bottoms that prevented him from fully seeing your swollen pussy begging for him.

You tensed, you were so nervous, but they were good nerves, you thought to yourself that every time his face came near your center it meant he was about to perform a series of moves that would leave you quivering and breathless, he was about to eat you, and you were absolutely right, Chris licked his lips at the image of your exposed pussy, he parted your legs so he could position himself in between them and squeezed your left thigh with his hand while he took it upon himself to give you kisses on the inside of your thighs. Then he kissed around the area of your pussy, teasing you to finally separate your folds and vagina completely with both of his hands, stretching it and giving it a dirty, hot and loud kiss, using the movement of his lips, daring to use his tongue as well, covering from the outside of your wet entrance and the inside of your vulva; you gasped and twitched a little at the sensation of his warm mouth on your sensitive genital area, Chris made a giggling sound over your pussy, knowing he had you like this filled him with pure pleasure.

Finally, his mouth moved up, caressing the rest of your vulva to reach your clit, tasting it with his tongue and sucking it using its cavity completely, this time you trembled before him and let out a ragged sigh, Chris was doing it again, knowing exactly what to do, even though you were not the most expert at sex, you were very sure that the gentle way he ate your pussy was so ideal and right. His long fingers caressed the rest of your pussy and he made eye contact with you as he sucked on your sensitive spot, worshipping you from that angle, his upper lips glued to the skin of your pubis, his tongue lost in your playfully soft clit. Chris played with your entrance, teasing it with two of his fingers, circling it over your entrance and dipping them in shallowly and gently, taking you to the extreme of your arousal. You stroked his hair and suddenly he was lost in your anatomy, lowering his mouth and licking everything from you, sucking your labia and giving you the pleasure that was slowly blurring your vision. His lips were full, his tongue thick and slick and his teeth strong and sharp making you come closer and closer to your orgasm as he continued to stimulate you with his fingers thrusting them into you gently, taking you deep and exploring your insides, then thrusting in and out, ramming them in a dynamic that made you come closer and closer to your climax. Chris loved your moans, your desperate high pitched cries as his fingers feasted on your slippery tight insides and his mouth on your taste, he was in complete control of you, you were being fully satisfied, so close to your orgasm that Chris could tell, so he pulled his mouth away from you, kept penetrating you with his fingers, more and more intensely until he heard your inevitable mess of fluids collide with his digits. He stood up a little, smirking smugly and quickly wiping his stained mouth on you with the back of his free hand.

“You're so close, baby, huh?”

Chris said in a low tone and watched you expectantly, your body never ceasing to move slightly writhing in pleasure. You nodded awkwardly, saw his handsome face amidst your blurred vision filled with pleasure, you were so close, Chris knew it and only roughly lifted your bikini top to expose your breasts again and massage them again. You bit your lip in desperation feeling you were being loud enough, his veiny arm buried in his core looked so good, you were cumming, but unexpectedly Chris abruptly pulled his fingers away from you, making you gasp.

“Don't cum yet, sweetheart” he whispered close to your face, “Cum with daddy's cock inside you.”

You were shaken, confused and you saw how quickly Chris slipped down his shorts and boxers, freeing his notorious cock, took it again and positioned himself over you, gently stroking his hard member over your wet pussy and then rubbing it into your folds.

“You want me to fuck you, huh, my sweet girl?” he said demanding, looking at you as if you were helpless.

Your heart was about to pound out of your chest, the feel of his cock in your vulva was torturing you, both sexes throbbing and eager.

“Yes, daddy please” you tried not to sound so needy, but you wanted him to fill you up completely, to make you climax.

Chris licked his lips and teased your entrance, slowly inserting the tip of his penis. You squealed in pleasure, even his tip was stretching your orifice, he continued to tease you, gently ramming inside you with just his glans and little more few inches of his cock.

“Chris, p-please” you begged.

He smiled, satisfied with your soft pleas, he settled his body better as he pushed himself into you slowly, stretching open your entrance and walls, making you whimper, his pumping, rigid cock once again reaching deep inside you. Chris sucked air between his teeth and then moaned between relieved and frustrated, relieved to be inside you, frustrated that you were still so tight and making him feel pleasantly dizzy, blinded in pleasure.

Chris began to move in you, his strong body on top of yours, his cock magically tearing your insides apart, sliding up and down your walls, you were feeling orgasm close again, you were so close anyway before, he began to pant near your ear, enjoying being deep in you, moving your body with each rough, hard pounding thrust he gave you. He began to babble, loving how you felt for him and you whimpered and squealed in pleasure, feeling all of you so full. Chris took your left hand that was clenching his sheet tightly and intertwined it tightly with yours, never stopping ramming you, starting slow, deep and passionately and increasing the pace more and more. Your other hand dug into his back enjoying every thrust into you, he was so deep in you that the skin of his pubis rubbed into you gently.

“Aw, baby, you feel so fucking good.”

He was intoxicated in you, your walls squeezed him tighter in search of your orgasm, you whimpered his name as his hair brushed your cheek. You arched your back in search of your release, the knot in your stomach combined with the bulge of his cock were unreal, he was practically tearing your body apart in such a pleasurable way.

“Cum, baby doll, cum for me” he gasped, leaning in to see your pleasure filled expression.

You climaxed after he began to ram into you bestially, you cum with his exposed cock inside and he continued arduously with deep but gentle thrusts into you until he reached his orgasm inside you, spilling every drop of his cum inside you. Chris sighed in relief, slowly pulling his cock out to let it rest on your mons pubis, his cock so wet and used as he watched his mark on you, his cum dripping down your used center. You were both exhausted and full of pleasure.

“Aw, my pretty baby, do you like it when daddy fills you all up?”

You couldn't deny it, you did love the feeling of him filling you with it, of his thick white cum sliding down your hole as a sign that he was there, taking care of you.

[...]

You had one more problem, just when you were completely forgetting your guilt after an incredible night with Chris, your father sent you a message reminding you that it was Dahlia's birthday party exactly the next day, he had been reminding you but you ignored every single one of his messages since he opposed the idea of you being with Chris and asked you all the time about your whereabouts.

You didn't want to go, you didn't feel welcome. But you ended up doing it, sadly canceling on Chris whatever he had planned to hang out with you and you were honest with him, telling him you had to hang out with your dad since it was Dahlia's birthday. You weren't cynical enough not to go or stay away from her as she was nothing but merely sweet and cute to you, she liked you well enough, your mother liked her and your father loved her; you met her when you were already grown up in your teens and she sweetly introduced herself to you saying that you can call her by her name and that she did not pretend at any time to occupy the role of your mother, but that she would love and appreciate you as enormously and purely as one, since then she always remembers your birthdays, events and important dates, she always gives you gifts at Christmas and a nice detail on Valentine's Day, you were so weak as to cut ties with her for something that shouldn't be the biggest problem, you were dating someone, you wanted to be with him and go out, you didn't understand the problem in that, you just wanted everyone to forget the little detail of how it was that you met.

Plus you always made a little room for important dates like birthdays, your dad would pick you up from college and you would stay the weekend at his house.

You could have broken tradition, lying that you really couldn't because you had too much work to do with college but you also didn't want to be the kind of woman who had to hide and stay away from her family for a man. You had nothing to hide, you were now Chris's girlfriend, no big deal.

You put your pride on high, you told your father that you could go on your own to his house, which confused him and you dared to tell him that Chris would come to drop you off, he was stunned at the call, wanting to refuse but agreed in a low voice, as if he didn't want to be heard, and you understood that the side where they were more opposed to your relationship was more from Chris' ex-girlfriend's family, because you recognized your father's tone so well, almost as if he didn't take the great importance to the subject.

And then you got out of Chris's car, after he worriedly told you if you were sure about going, to which you nodded decisively, saying goodbye to him in a long kiss, carrying the luxurious medium-sized carry-on suitcase he had given you along with some clothes. But your surprise was when you opened the door and had to see in front of you the woman who had also once tested your now boyfriend.

She was the last person you wanted to see just now, you thought you had to confront her until dinner tonight, that you could peacefully get home, further convincing your father of the good man Chris was... but your plans were disappearing one by one as you saw her unfriendly face.

This was not your kind of weekend.

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

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[m00nl1ghts1vt]

You Like Me? - Matt Sturniolo

Part Two Pairings; bsf!Matt x bsf!Reader Summary; After Chris & Nick convince Matt to go to a party with them, he overdoes it and has to carried home. The night ends in a silly drunken confession. Wc; 1458 Warnings; fluff 🥰 strong language, mentions of alcohol use, vomitting, A.n; This is my first imagine & third post. Check out my Matt & Chris hc!! All reactions are highly appreciated ❤️ Current Matt series - City of Love

"Chris, you have to hold him up," Nick complains to his brother. You guys were coming in from a fun night out, after finally convincing their introverted brother to tag along, with the help of yourself of course.

You fumbled with the key, trying to put it in the keyhole but failing once again.

"C'mon Y/n, this man is fucking dead weight back here," Chris groans. You look over your shoulder to see a flustered, yet aggravated expression etched across his face. Poor guy.

Matt overdid it and had way too many shots tonight which was odd because you'd think he would've been completely out of his comfort zone, making him not want to drink at all but it did the complete opposite. Little did you know the only reason he even came out tonight was because you were going to be there and he couldn't bear the thought of sitting at home alone, not knowing if another guy was flirting with you or not. That and he had plans to let the liquid courage help him confess his feelings for you tonight. The feelings he had been dying to tell you since the third month of your friendship, when he actually figured it out it wasn't just attraction he had towards you.

You felt bad seeing the boys struggle to hold him up, each one of Matt's arms draped over their shoulders as he lets all of his weight hang at his feet. You quickly mumble a sorry before successfully sticking the key in the keyhole and unlocking the door. You push it open, stepping aside so you aren't in the way, going in behind them and closing it.

"Birds of a feather, we should stick together," you hear your best friend sing as his brothers drag him down the hall to his room. You throw your head back laughing as you stumble out of your heels. Matt already threw up twice - once at the party and another time in the car. It was in serious need of a detailing this week.

"Oh my fucking-," you hear Nick shout from Matt’s bedroom, "gross!" His voice is quickly followed by gut wrenching gags from Matt, or maybe it was one of his brothers. All you knew is that someone was puking so you raced down the hall, your own drunken haze wearing you down causing you to go slower, stumbling over your own two feet.

You turn the corner of Matt's bedroom, seeing him slumped over his bedside trash bin, emptying his stomach, for the third time tonight. Your motherly instincts kick in and you make your way to him, rubbing his back as he continues to throw up. His body wasn't used to that much alcohol, he wasn't a drinker at all.

"Oh Matt," you coo, attempting to soothe him as he hurls. You look over at his brothers, both covered in Matt's throw up with disgusted looks on their faces. "Has he eaten anything?" concern laced through your voice, "his stomach can't handle all the alcohol he had to tonight. Go get a couple pieces of bread for him to eat," you order, hoping one of them will do as you say so you don't have to leave Matt's side. You had been through the exact same thing he was going through one too many times, so you knew exactly what he needed.

Nick rushes out of the room, coming back with a couple pieces of bread and a bottle of water. He sets it down on the nightstand and takes a few steps back, clearly concerned about Matt because he's not worried about being covered in puke.

You look over at him, "you should go get changed. I got him, he'll be okay," reassuring him. Chris stood in the doorway, "are you sure?" He takes a few steps forward and looks at Matt, "what if he has alcohol poisoning?"

"Alco-whaa?" Matt grumbles, lifting his head from the trashcan and falling back on the bed.

"He'd be way worse if he had that," you tell him, "trust me," before sitting Matt up and wiping his mouth. To no avail, he slumps over and hits his head on the headboard, groaning and throwing a hand up to cover the goose egg that's more than likely forming. You sigh, pulling him up again, this time propping him up with pillows. "Here," cracking the water bottle open and bringing it to his lips, "drink."

Matt takes a sip from the water bottle, looking at you with his eyes bleary from the inoperative state the alcohol had him in. You smile at him, taking the water bottle away and replacing it with a piece of bread, "eat it," nodding him on. He takes a big bite and chomps on it, making you giggle. You look at Chris and Nick, kind of like you're reassuring them he'd be just fine. It works and they go on their way to clean themselves up.

You watch has Matt still chomps on his bread, staring at you with ogle eyes, "you're so fucking pretty," his speech is still slurred but a lot clearer than before. 

A blush creeps up on your face, "shut up, Matt. You're drunk."

"S'what," he slurs, a kool-aid smile stretched across his smile, "you're still gorgeous." 

Over the last year and a half, you and Matt had been friends, and he never flirted with you. So, your immediate thought was it had to be caused by his intoxicated state.

"Shut up and eat your bread," you mumbled a bit embarrassed. Thank God Chris and Nick weren't in the room, they'd never let the two of you live it down. Standing up to set the water on his nightstand, Matt reaches his hands out to your thighs, pulling you towards him.

You squeal at the sudden contact, "Matt, what are you doing?!"

"Cuddle with me," he whines, making sure to keep a tight grip on the backs of your thighs, pressing his head to your stomach. You look down at him, pushing a piece of hair out of his face. Matt looks up with the biggest puppy dog eyes, "please."

How could you say no to that face? Yeah, you found Matt attractive, who didn't? But you never thought he'd have his arms wrapped around your waist, begging you to cuddle with him. After debating with your inner conscious for a second, you convince yourself the outcome couldn't be that bad. Nodding to Matt, "fine," pushing him back and crawling up next to him.

His arm snakes around your shoulder and you lay your head on his chest. The two of you stay frozen in time for a while and he finally looks down at you, "I really like you, Y/n."

You snicker, "go to sleep, Matt." You were definitely giving him shit about this in the morning.

"I'm not that drunk anymore," he tells you in a defensive tone before sitting up, making you sit up with him. What was this kid getting at? Confusion spreads across your face and your eyes search the room, almost like you’re for hidden cameras. "The water helped," you hear him say.

"So, what are you trying to say, Matt," you keep your tone quiet. Was he implying he had feelings for you? You two have been friends for a little a year and a half so this sudden confession had you struck for words. Matt had never indicated he liked you or even looked at you as anything more than friends. There were no signs. This was out of the blue for you.

"I like you," he hums, obviously still drunk but not as drunk as before. He was sobering up by the minute now that the bread was absorbing all the leftover alcohol in his stomach. He looks at you, leaning in, "just told you that, silly goose," and bops your nose with his index finger.

"Y-you like me?" you stutter, trying not to overreact, "since when?"

"Since forever, duh," he laughs. Usually Matt would be embarrassed to no end having confessed his feelings to you but his intoxicated state put him at ease, "ask anyone. They all know," he nods proudly.

You ran your finger through your hair, not believing what you're hearing. "You're gonna regret this in the morning, Matthew," you tell him, using his full government name so he knows you're serious.

"Nuh-uh," he argues, "that's the only reason I got this wasted tonight, so I'd finally tell you." His final confession leaves your jaw hanging wide open, "ask my brothers. They knew the plan," he giggles before falling back onto his bed and letting the liquor take over his system, sending him into a deep sleep.

Not my photos for dividers. All credit is due to original creators! ❤️

Wrote this while taking a hot bubble bath. 10/10 recommend.

First imagine so let me know what you think!! 💚

My requests are always open!

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Jealousy (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you know Sauron is only getting close to Mirdania as part of your plans, but it still bothers you

Warnings: evil reader who is Sauron’s partner in crime (it’s not exactly healthy but you match each other’s freak)

Note: now part of the evil!reader collection (various scenes with the same reader but not written and posted in chronological order)

If she’s not in love yet, she is awfully close to it. You can see it plainly on Mirdania’s face as Sauron—or, as she knows him, Annatar—cradles her hand in his, convincing her yet again to do his bidding with nothing more than a softly spoken word and a gaze that lingers just a moment too long.

“Can I trust you to make sure the others respect his wishes as well?” you hear him say from where you’re standing, only a few feet away. Mirdania agrees almost immediately, looking as though she might pick up a hammer and crush her own fingers with it as well, if her beloved Lord of Gifts only asked.

You are being dramatic, of course. It’s a good thing, having as many smiths of Eregion be vulnerable to Sauron’s deception as possible, but it’s awfully unfair that someone else should get to feel his touch so freely when you, the one with the most right to it, must restrain yourself until you are alone.

By the time they are finished conversing, you are glaring daggers in their direction. If Mirdania notices, you don’t know and you don’t care. It’s his gaze you meet and hold for a brief moment before you turn yours away and leave the courtyard, knowing he would follow.

He had better.

You’ve reached a corridor you know to be empty most of the time, and are striding down it when a hand wraps around your arm and pulls you to the side. You hold back a smirk as your back meets the wall and you stare up into Sauron’s eyes.

“Jealousy does not suit you,” he remarks sharply.

“Feigned innocence does not suit you,” you retort. “Yet you never fail to make it convincing.”

“Mirdania is hardly difficult to convince. And who can fault her?” he says, smugly. He likes to make your blood boil, and you like to let him. It stokes the passion between you. Usually. Now, however, it only serves to further your indignation.

“Who can fault her, indeed?” you say bitterly. “Perhaps she’s not the one worthy of my ire. It was, after all, the Lady Galadriel to whom you oh-so-poetically compared Mirdania not that long ago. Perhaps your time together in Numenor brought you much closer than you led me to believe.”

Your accusation diminishes his playfulness. He puts a finger under your chin, lifting it slightly to better fix you with a warning gaze.

“I do not care for this attitude of yours,” he says disapprovingly. “You were never quite so... irritable, before.”

“Before?” you hiss, removing his hand from your face and holding his wrist between you in a grip tight enough you hope it hurts. “Before you were taken from me without warning, and I was left alone in the world? Living amongst my kind as though nothing had changed, as though I still belonged with them. Playing the obedient little smith as if I was not meant to be so much more. Forgive me if, after all those interminable years awaiting my husband’s return, I do not care to see his fingers in some other elf’s hair!”

Your last words are practically a growl as you release his hand furiously, slamming it into his own chest. He glances at it, then looks at you, having the decency to seem somewhat contrite for a brief moment.

“Had I known it bothered you so...” The slightest smirk tugs at his mouth. “I’d have at least tried to touch her hair out of your sight.”

You shove at his chest, spitting out an adjective in Black Speech with a most indelicate translation in the common tongue. This time, you don’t want him to follow. It’s your full intention to storm away and treat him with nothing but silence until you’re satisfied you have frustrated him as badly as he did you.

You’ve taken a few steps when he catches you by the waist, pulling you with your back flush against his front in the middle of the corridor. You make a sound of surprise, your hands flying to his, but you don’t try to pry them away from you. His mouth is at your ear, hot and alluring.

“There is a purpose to my every word, gesture and touch,” he says, the low rumble of his voice traveling deliciously down your spine. “A purpose of which you are well aware. Our purpose. Do you truly believe a head of pretty hair would so easily sway me, when I spent centuries dreaming to taste you once more?”

His voice has dropped to a whisper, and his lips lower to your neck, pressing gently against your skin to soften you to him. It feels divine, as always, but pride demands you hold back from melting into his just yet.

“What you spent centuries dreaming of,” you counter flatly, “is ruling the world.” Your voice betrays only the tiniest trace of breathlessness as he gives your skin a light, warning bite.

“The two may coexist, and they do. You know that very well.” He turns you around then, holding your chin between his fingers once more. His thumb brushes your lower lip, eyes boring into yours with no trace of the teasing glint from before. “Cease your foolish doubts. Anger makes you impossibly beautiful, my love, but in this moment I’d prefer it if you were angry alongside me, rather than at me. We must stand united, now more than ever.”

That is... infuriatingly true.

Oh, damn him. With his flattery and his touches and his... rational thinking.

“I just...” You let out a sigh with a hint of a groan, your anger giving way to reveal the source of frustration which had driven you to such impulsive actions in the first place. “I’ve grown so tired of this pretense. This ridiculous charade, as if you were as much a stranger to me as you were to the other smiths before you came. Look at us, sneaking around like some rebellious youths exchanging forbidden kisses. They should know who you are. Who we are.” You cup his cheeks and lean in close, voice drenched in unbridled passion. “Husband and wife. King and Queen.”

“And so they shall,” he vows, pulling you against him in a tight embrace as he leans his forehead against yours, “once the work is complete. I shall put a crown on your head, and we shall stand side by side as the world bows at our feet. Before their Lord of Darkness, and my beautiful, terrible Queen. This, I swear.”

Your heart thunders in your chest at the images invoked by his words. Everything you’ve waited and strived for all this time, finally within your grasp. Being supreme ruler of Elves, Dwarves and Men alike. Knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that you can never be torn from the one you love again.

“The day cannot come soon enough,” you breathe out, the last word barely escaping before your love captures your lips and kisses you with endless greed, perfectly matching yours. There is darkness within you, and it was always meant to become intertwined with his. One or both of you may be killed, as he once was, but no power in existence could ever truly part your souls. It’s a certainty you see reflected in his eyes as he pulls away just slightly, just enough for his gaze to set you even more alight with desire before he devours you with his kiss once more.

“Soon, my love,” he whispers against your lips. “Soon.”

Previous fic with same reader -> A true gift

Next fic with same reader -> Reveal

[cheeseceli]

Reassuring them

Pairing: Ot8 Skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: headcanons, fluff, reverse comfort (1.6k words)

Request: could you do something sweet where the members are insecure and reader is comforting and reassuring them?

Warnings: mentions of insecurities regarding body image, personality and the idol life; mentions of food in Changbin's.

A/n: because everyone deserves comfort!! Also, this pic of Han 😭😭 | help Gaza

When you reassure them by...

Bang Chan - simply looking at him

Chan never really liked his features, saying he would change most of his appearance given the opportunity. That's something that never really made sense to you. How could one dislike its appearance when it looked like that? He looked absolutely gorgeous in your point of view, and it pained you that he didn't see it.

Although you said thousands of compliments to him, that's not what made his perception of himself change. It helped, of course, but the most impactful thing you've ever done was to look at him. You looked at him the same all the time: lovestruck.

When he got all dressed up for a photoshoot, when he was sweating after practice, when he was with make up, when he just woke up... You would always look at him like he was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. At first he tried to hide himself from your gaze. He felt shy and unworthy of it in the beginning. But when it didn't work and you kept on admiring him all the same, he started to give in.

Now he likes the way you look at him. Although it still makes him shy, he hopes that you'll keep looking at him like that. And even though he's not totally there just yet, he's starting to see what you see whenever there's a mirror in front of him.

Lee Know - shutting down people's comments

Minho knows most people wouldn't describe him as the most affectionate person to ever exist. Most of the time he'd be okay with that. He needs his space and words of affirmation isn't his better love language. Nothing wrong with that, right?

But when people start to say that he's a bad boyfriend, he wonders how truthful those statements are. And he really wasn't supposed to eavesdrop, but when he hears your friends calling you to question your relationship, he can't help but feel defeated by hearing it. However, he doesn't miss how quick you are to shut down your friend's comments and list times where Minho made you feel loved.

And later on, when you see him, he notices how your eyes shine. There's still this voice on his head accusing him of not doing enough, but he also knows that you don't love him any less because of that.

Maybe, anytime now, he'll realise that he's already doing way more than enough in your eyes.

Changbin - caring for him

At some point in his life, Changbin convinced himself that he needed to be strong. He had to take all the weight of the world in his shoulders and he should do it smiling. That's one of the reasons why he usually keeps his problems to himself: he doesn't want to bother anyone.

But of course, this is not an easy task. Sometimes he fails to do so. And when he does, that's when he feels his world falling down all at once. He feels incapable, useless, nothing. And the words he repeats to himself get harsher every time. That is until you put a stop to it.

He never really allowed anyone to fully take care of him because that would go against his ideal of "I need to be the strongest". But you never asked for permission. You would just do it. And when he finds himself eating the food you cooked him, having his hair brushed by you and the tears being dried by your fingers, he feels like it's okay.

You make his weakness seem like a good thing, and if it keeps going like this, he might as well believe that it's not even a weakness at all.

Hyunjin - saying "I love you"

Every once in a while Hyunjin falls in this dilemma of receiving thousands of "I love you"s but not believing them in the slightest. Did these people on the internet, who have not seen him not once, loved him or the image of him? How much could he believe out of those confessions?

That made him wonder for nights if the real him, the one the internet didn't really know, was also worthy of love. And then he would feel himself falling on this rabbit hole where he was stuck. His questions started to become affirmations that would insist that no, he could never be truly loved.

You'd never hesitate on disagreeing with that though. Not when you knew him better than anyone, probably even more than himself, and still showed love in everything you would do. By the way you hugged him to how you'd text him goodnight every night. Your gifts and your acts. Everything screamed "I love you". Especially when you literally said those three words that Hyunjin desired more than anything.

Little by little Hyunjin felt that his own skin was also good and loveable. He started to glow because of that. That made even more people love him. This time though, he welcomed the affection with open arms. He felt like he deserved it this time.

Han - being there

Self doubt is a funny thing, Han thinks to himself. Once it appears in your life, it's extremely hard to get it out. And even though you know all of your insecurities aren't true, you still don't fully believe it. So when Han starts to think that he is insufferable, that all his friends hate him and that he deserves to be alone, it's hard to stop thinking that.

But then he sees you. And it's like the sun peeking from foggy weather: light at last. You're always there. In his happy moods, when he's sad, when he's screaming nonsense. It doesn't matter what is happening, you're always there. You're the affirmation that, no matter what happens, you'll be there. That he deserves to have someone by him.

He still finds himself distancing himself at times, when the insecurities speak louder. But your presence always reminds him of what's the truth. And sooner or later, the self doubt drowns a bit and he finds himself being more comfortable and confident. He allows himself to have people, to have you, in his life without the fear of abandonment.

Felix - endlessly complimenting him

Insecurities are nothing new to Felix. He has grown used to doubting himself and his actions constantly now. Add that to the infinite amount of hate he receives every day and it's easy to just drown in this endless cycle of self doubt and hatred.

However, he notices that he is now taking it easier with himself. The inner voices that could never stop complaining were slowly but surely stopping. They were being replaced with your sweet and soft spoken compliments.

It was almost second nature to you, he thinks. To just overflow with love and end up reassuring him with your words. He doesn't think you realise it, but it seems that you can always read his mind. You can always tell what he needs to hear. And you always say it as it's the most genuine thing you've ever said.

So when he stops listening to the hate and just hears your voice instead, he knows exactly how it happened. He also knows that, if it's up to you, your praises would be a thing that would follow him for the rest of his life.

Seungmin - taking pictures of him

Seungmin never really liked his smile, he doesn't even know why. It just never felt right for him. And as far as he can remember, he always did everything he could to hide his face whenever his lips would turn up. He thought he was doing it well.

However, he came to realise that he was horrible at hiding his smile. At least he was when it came to you. You had a lot of pictures, maybe up to a hundred, of him. Most of them were blurry and spontaneous. He didn't even know you were taking a picture of him for the majority of the time. Maybe that's why he never covered his smile in the photographs you had of him.

As your wallpaper, as a Polaroid, framed near your bed... There was always a picture where he was smiling carefree. And he looked beautiful in all of those.

You most likely didn't even realise how this little gesture of yours made him like his smile more and more, but you were glad when, after a few months, he stopped putting his hands in front of his mouth whenever a laugh erupted from his lips.

I.N - hyping him up

After living in such a competitive environment for years, Jeongin thinks he should be used to the music industry now. He can tolerate the overworking, he knows how to control the media, he loves his fans and job. Everything is fine. Still, there's always that one part of his mind saying he's incompetent at the job. Saying that becoming an idol was the wrong move.

These days he usually locks himself in the studio or in the dance room and refuses to get out of there until he feels like he deserves it, until he feels like he's good again. But then again, it feels like this time never comes.

That's when you have a vital role in his life. You're the living proof that he's actually doing a good job. And the funny thing is that you have never said it, not even once. But he still knows it. He knows when YouTube recommends you another fancam of him, because apparently you like his dancing and stage presence that much. He knows when you always applause him after a dancing session and when you playfully beg him to sing you a song, and the huge smile on your face when he finally does.

It's almost as if you are his biggest fan. At this point, you might be. And funnily enough, you are the "fan" that is motivating him to keep going. If he managed to make you like his work that much, he must be doing something right after all.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: when your parents don't like them

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143

Credit for images 1 2 and 3

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

[qveerthe0ry]

Your Ride, Best Trip

Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time Word Count: 9,001 Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3 A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time

Marcus Pike is perfect. 

He’s your dream man. 

He’s sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and he’s remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.

He’s effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you aren’t feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place. 

He’s fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees. 

He’s so smart, and he’s so funny, and he’s all yours… finally. 

See, when he hadn’t so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit. 

How could you not? He’d been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own. 

So you asked him what was up, and he told you.

Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found you— like fate— when he wasn’t even looking, when he least expected it. 

You had no problem taking it slow. You’re still convinced you’d wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.

After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if you’d have him.

You told him you’d love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. You’d be crazy not too. 

And then he finally kissed you.

It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight. 

You’ve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things. 

But now it’s one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.

You haven’t made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, he’s been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him. 

It doesn’t help that he touches you like you’re the last person on earth. His hands are so big and they’re gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt. 

You think it’s going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. You’re in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that you’re wearing. 

His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and there’s no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you can’t say it. You’d feel bad, making him rush when he’s made it clear he wants to take things slow. 

When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore. 

You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training. 

“Sweetheart—”

His eyes flicker down to your lips. You’re sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

You don’t know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager. 

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you you’re going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated. 

But it’s fine. He’s so worth it. 

You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed. 

“What do you want?” 

His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt you’ve claimed. But it doesn’t stop that fight or flight response from kicking in. 

“Nothing! Nothing, Marcus, I’m okay— I’m great. Just wanna cuddle.” 

But the creases in his forehead don’t smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine. 

“You’re lying.” 

You sigh and close your eyes. 

“I’m not lying, I’m just— I don’t want to push you to move too fast.” 

You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty. 

“I’ve been lying, too,” Marcus whispers. 

It’s your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speed— all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with it—

“I have a small dick.” 

His face is so flushed. He can’t meet your gaze.

He’s staring at the bedsheets between you, and you’re both just silent for a long, awkward moment. 

“I mean— the divorce and all that, it’s all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. But— the last few weeks I guess I’ve just been… stalling?” 

He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction. 

“Marcus…”

“I get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didn’t sign up for—“

“Marcus.”

You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.

“I don’t want to leave. You didn’t lie. It’s just— you really think that would bother me?” 

He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little. 

“I don’t know. Most people were… bothered. I guess,” he shrugs. 

You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation. 

Because saying ‘I don’t care’ seems too dismissive. But you don’t. You couldn’t possibly care less about what’s in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you don’t want to make it sound like it’s something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because it’s not. 

“I’m not bothered,” you finally tell him. 

He still doesn’t meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his. 

“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay, I’ve heard it all. I know I’ve lead you on—”

“Jesus,” you cut him off, “what did— who made you feel this way?” 

He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair that’s fallen flat across his scrunched forehead. 

“Everyone?” 

You sigh his name, and you’re tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you. 

He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up. 

“That’s— Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.”

He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at. 

“Really, Marcus. I mean— maybe if someone’s just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?

All you’ve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless you’re like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you haven’t led me on at all.”

He’s still not looking at you. Why won’t he look at you, and believe you? 

“I don’t want to sound dismissive. I understand you’re insecure about it. I’m insecure about some things too. I don’t want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.” 

There. He’s looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but he’s finally meeting your gaze. 

“Really?”

You scoff. 

“Really really.”

A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth. 

“Why?”

“Because— now, don’t go getting a big head about this— you’re perfect. Like, everything about you. You’re sweet and you make me laugh and you’re gorgeous.”

His face flushes, but he lets you continue.

“And I’m in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think we’re super compatible.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

“Good, so… we’re on the same page then.”

You watch him lick his lips, and his hand that’s been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine. 

“And… There’s other reasons,” you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah… For one, your hands.”

“My hands?”

He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment. 

“Yeah… They’re uh… big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you haven’t noticed.”

He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back. 

“Your nails are always trimmed, and— your fingers are long and thick. I’ve thought about them a lot.”

He breathes your name, and now you realize you’re the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.

“And I love to give head.”

“Jesus.”

“And the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didn’t get sore.” 

“Sweetheart—”

“Really, it’s one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. It’s tedious.”

He says your name again, this time with a warning tone. 

You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted. 

“You’re not lying.”

His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again. 

“Fuck.”

It’s the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs. 

“I’ve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are… I think about them at night, when I’m touching myself.” 

That’s convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth. 

His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you. 

You can’t muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction. 

You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. It’s a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long. 

Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. There’s so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs. 

You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt. 

Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize you’re gawking. 

But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, he’s smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why you’re devouring him like you’re starved. 

He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice. 

“I think about you, too. All the time.” 

You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest. 

“You know that? You think I haven’t had you a million different ways in my head?” 

Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter. 

“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”

Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod. 

He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now it’s just filthy. No more pretense, it’s been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience. 

His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt. 

“You come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you don’t drive me crazy?” 

The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss. 

“I don’t wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.”

You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that you’ve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head. 

He curses when he sees you. It’s the first time. You’ve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe you’d be more nervous if you weren’t careening toward the pleasure he’s promised you. 

He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing you’ve ever craved before. 

“Marcus—”

“I know, I know.”

His syrupy voice isn’t as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants you’re wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers. 

“Can I?”

You’re nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch. 

“Oh, are you that sensitive?”

His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck. 

“It’s just you.” 

And it’s true. There’s no ego-stroking here. You’ve waited too long to get this and now you’re fiending, any touch is a relief. 

And he’s huffing into that skin under your ear, like you’re playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans. 

“So sweet, huh?”

You make a disgruntled noise but there’s not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess. 

He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. You’re certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips. 

“That’s all for me?” 

There’s a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.

But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if you’ll ever not be desperate for him again. 

He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip. 

“Can I take these off, sweetheart?” 

The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you aren’t sure you’ve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you. 

“Yes, please.”

He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. It’s a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until you’re bare to him and he’s gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes. 

Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, he’s propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs. 

You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face. 

It’s a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. It’s you who breaks the spell, only because you know you’re at the very edge of control. 

“You sure you’re ready?”

You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. It’s hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.

“I’m positive… can’t believe I psyched myself out for so long.”

He huffs and shakes his head at himself. You’re ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else he’s done, to spread yourself open for him. 

The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe it’s the anticipation. So close to what you’ve thought about every single night for weeks. Months– since the day you first met, if you’re being honest. 

He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels. 

His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.

“You’re soaked.” 

His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they don’t breach, and you feel like he’s teasing, readying a whine in protest. 

The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure. 

Oh, he’s fucking good at this. 

There’s no apprehension in his movements. It’s like he’s read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else. 

You’re stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding. 

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers. 

“You have no idea.”

He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face. 

“I think I do,” he mumbles.

He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side. 

You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles. 

All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. You’re losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly it’s like you’re touching yourself. 

You’re not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcus’ lips capture your own to let them mingle together. 

Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. It’s a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadn’t been so diligent this entire time you’d think he didn’t know what he was doing. 

But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids. 

You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours. 

“That’s it. This what you needed?”

A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. You’re clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you can’t be bothered to worry about what needy noises you’re making.

He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder. 

“I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?” 

You nod so fast you’re surprised your head doesn’t detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs. 

You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if it’s just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction. 

He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants. 

“Not yet. Let me take my time with you. You’ve waited so long, right? I’ll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.” 

You huff. 

You should’ve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets he’d make on how a movie’s plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinner— it’s all adding up now, and you can’t believe you didn’t expect it. 

Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and it’s hot and it’s yours. 

“Put your money where your mouth is,” you breathe. 

He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five o’clock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.

He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs. 

He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out. 

All of a sudden you can’t watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation. 

The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again. 

Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you. 

All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold. 

Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs. 

A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You don’t know how you’ll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that you’ve finally got him here. It’s so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever. 

His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.” 

You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and it’s so so so fucking good you’re sure you’re going combust. 

His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesn’t stop, and you’re dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there. 

It’s blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake. 

“Please don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m so close.” 

To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men you’ve been with, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until you’re dropping. 

All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue. 

As the shivers roll through you, Marcus’ fingers slow, and though he can’t remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him. 

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him. 

He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting ‘shhh’ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses he’s dropping all over the skin he can reach. 

Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers. 

His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. That’s what he gets, being so goddamn good at that. 

And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now you’ve only ever kissed or dreamed of. They’re even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is. 

You don’t know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering that’s how all this started, but you’re dying to see what you taste like on him. 

Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat. 

“So… How’d it compare?” 

Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question. 

“Pardon?”

But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them. 

“To all those thoughts you told me about. How’d I do?” 

You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up. 

“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you tease, though there’s not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are. 

He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you aren’t sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize you’re flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs. 

You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs. 

“Better,” you whisper. 

You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back. 

And then you’re shocked back into the realization that there’s all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver. 

You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips. 

You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skin— your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants. 

He’s looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension. 

His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. 

So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as he’s been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little. 

But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard. 

But it’s okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up. 

“Will you let me suck it?” 

All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods. 

“Please.” 

It’s a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction. 

He’s begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants. 

You’re still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you don’t want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, you’re also denying yourself, and you’ve been patient for long enough. 

So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go. 

Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You don’t want to stare, and you also don’t want to not look, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable at all with you. 

You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel. 

He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock. 

His little cock. 

It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest you’ve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess. 

And it’s so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing. 

You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here there’s even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.

When you drag your eyes up to him, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much you’re going to enjoy this. 

You’ll make him look, one way or another. 

For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention. 

He’s making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head. 

And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until he’s entirely in your mouth. 

It’s not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. That’s when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him. 

You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show. 

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but you’re not in a position to. 

Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more. 

You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool. 

It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere. 

You reach a hand down to touch yourself. You’re still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. You’ve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. You’re sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock. 

“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”

Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. He’s clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself. 

He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like he’s trying not to but he can’t help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds. 

He says your name. 

You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls. 

He says your name again, and this time it’s urgent, almost panicked. 

“Sweetheart, stop, please.”

You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face. 

“Are you okay?”

He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face. 

“I’m so okay. I just— did you want me to…? It’s okay if you don’t, I just didn’t want it to be over—”

“Marcus.” 

His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.

“Do you want to fuck me?” 

You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question. 

“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”

He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face. 

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tell him, “I’ve wanted it for way too long.”

His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe. 

“Yeah? You still want it?” 

His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. 

“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.” 

You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away. 

“Can you get on the edge of the bed for me?” 

You can, but not without throwing a cheeky ‘yes sir’ his way. You’re not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of  amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later. 

For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, you’re as comfortable as ever.

The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body. 

He’s so hot. 

It doesn’t help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed. 

“Perfect, sweetheart.”

He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit. 

“Are you ready?”

You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling. 

You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time. 

You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still you’re shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and you’re going to lose your mind if he doesn’t move.

“Oh fuck.”

You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand that’s supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense. 

“Fuck, Marcus, please.”

You’re so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; it’s an absolute necessity that he fucks you. 

He curses, and you realize you’ve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and he’s looking at you, your face, like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he’s shocked you’re here in front of him. 

But his hips are still, and you’re helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally he’s pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles. 

And then in again, almost as slowly, and you’re already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. It’s setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one that’s still tender and alight from your previous orgasm. 

“It’s so fucking good,” you manage to choke out. 

Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh. 

“It is, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good.”

A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it. 

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.”

You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display. 

“Yes ma’am.”

Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesn’t let up. 

He fucks you. You try to watch; it’s too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist. 

His neck, the one vein there that’s protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you. 

But you just can’t keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, you’re too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and there’s already stars blooming behind them. 

His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.

Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.

“Thank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?” 

Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit. 

“Shit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wanna— fuck— let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.”

His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. You’re clenching wildly around him, you can’t help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight. 

Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and you’re tumbling over the edge. It’s been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, it’s blinding. There’s static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy. 

There’s screaming. 

You’re screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts. 

“That’s it, oh my god, sweetheart, you— fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m— where?”

“In me.”

Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you don’t have any time to elaborate on why that’s not a bad idea. You’re still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and you’re vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene. 

His shout doesn’t quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think you’re still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks. 

He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where they’ve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps. 

His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair. 

“Jesus,” he says.

Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again. 

“Huh?” 

God, how are you ever going to move again? 

“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”

Christ, why is he using such big words? 

“What are you talking about?” 

He clears his throat. 

“You like— You squirted?”

You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly. 

“I what?”

You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright. 

“Yeah, like, a lot.”

He’s still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out. 

You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray he’s one of those men that has a mattress protector. You’re more than a little mortified, and the way he’s staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.

“What?” 

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver. 

“I’ve never actually… done that? I would have warned you.”

He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees. 

He doesn’t speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think you’re finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you. 

You’re vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns he’s drawing on your body. 

He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and it’s sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat that’s cooling on your body. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but it’s no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.

It’s languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how you’re both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high. 

Both of your breathing seems even, when you part. 

“That was—”

“It’s never—”

You both chuckle. 

“Ladies first.”

You feel shy now. You can’t imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach. 

“I was just gonna say… That was better than all those times I imagined it.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do. 

“It’s never been that good.”

A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest. 

It takes your breath away. Because it’s never been that good for you either, and isn’t that such a perfect coincidence?

You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth. 

“When can we go again?”

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Dress Up, Part 2: The Ceremony✨

Well well well, looks like you guys won. You get a continuation of this fic that was meant to be a one shot lmao! I had some awesome people to bounce ideas off of and I couldn't do this without them. I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's time for the wedding! But you know I can't go a chapter without writing a little smut hehe~

*** - Scene change ~~~ - Flashback

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: It's wedding day! And Lucifer is more than willing to try and convince you to the leave the reception early...

Warnings: 18+, smut, hand job, oral (m receiving)

"You know, if you don't quit your pacing back and forth, you're gonna wear out the carpet..."

***

It had only been a week since the proposal and the wedding was already here. But this is what you both wanted; a nice quiet wedding with only a handful of people with everyone else in Hell being none the wiser. You had to beg Lucifer for the week you got in between, he was practically ready to say "I do" once he put that engagement ring on your hand. It may have seemed like you two were moving a little bit fast considering most weddings take months, sometimes years to plan out! But when you're marrying the King of Hell, there really was next to nothing to worry about when it came to your special day.

The new hotel was the perfect venue, complete with a beautiful ballroom that could rival any chapel on Earth. The guest list was extremely exclusive consisting of only the occupants of the hotel, minus one Radio Demon, not that he would attend even if he was invited. It was Charlie who suggested that he protect the hotel today from any threat that might make itself known. On top of that, Charlie was more than happy to be the officiant, as being the Princess of Hell granted her that authority. Money was no object to the Morningstar family, so no expense was spared.

But regardless of any of that, Lucifer couldn't help but worry. You had one other request for him after he popped the question.

~~~

"I hate to ask more of you after asking for a week to prepare," you started, putting on the last of your clothes that you had discarded during your fun little teasing display, "but..." Lucifer approached you suddenly and held your hand in both of his.

"My love, you can ask of me anything you wish. There is no limit when it comes to you. You've already given me the best gift of becoming my future bride. Anything in my power is yours for the asking, you just name it!" He leaned down and planted a small kiss on the back of your hand. You couldn't help but blush, he never failed to charm you.

"This may sound a little odd, considering what just took place a few minutes ago," you breathed out a sigh, "but...what would you say to refraining from any...intense intimacy?" Lucifer cocked his eyebrow and smirked, seemingly intrigued. "B-but only for this week, I promise! Kissing and cuddling would still be on the table, of course. And no deliberate teasing from me, that wouldn't be fair. I was just thinking that...I want our first night as a married couple to be special. And I figured holding off for the time in between would only heighten the experience. If that's not something you want, I completely understand that-MMPH," you were silenced by Lucifer's soft lips on yours.

"Oh darling, was that all?," he flashed his signature toothy grin at you. "That's hardly a request! I think that's a wonderful idea...n-not that I don't want to ravish you at any given time! But you're right, I couldn't imagine a better honeymoon than getting the chance to feel you again after being denied for a few days, even though it may feel like an eternity. I'll be on my best behavior; you have my word!"

~~~

And Lucifer was on his best behavior, for the most part, at least. There were a few instances where his hands had traveled a little too low on your body and some kisses became deeper than they should have. But both of you managed to make it through the week! But today was the day, and his anxiety was at an all-time high. You decided to sleep in separates rooms the night before, wanting the next time you saw each other to be at the altar. That was the plan, at least.

It had been a while since Lucifer had slept alone. Suffice to say he couldn't sleep. He assured you that he would be alright sleeping alone for just one night, but that ended up being easier said than done. The empty bed he laid in brought back painful memories of his first night without Lilith, something that still haunted him to this day. There would be times where Lucifer would wake up in a cold sweat, only to glance over to see you peacefully asleep, and he could breathe again. Anytime you felt him tug you closer to him in the middle of the night, you knew what had woken him up. He never hid his feelings from you when he confided in you about his ex, and you didn't mind that he would wake you when his nightmares overwhelmed him. You loved him and he loved you. You would never leave. So when you heard your door creek open in the middle of the night to see your fiancé standing ion the door frame, you only smiled and gestured him to you.

~~~

"I-I'm sorry," he sobbed quietly, "I tried...I really did...I-I had a dream, a nightmare, you were there but you started to fade away in front of me. I reached out but it was no use. I woke up and…and you weren’t there, I panicked…I’m so s-sorry…”

"Hey, hey, shh, it's alright," you soothed and brought him into a tight embrace. You felt a tear that had fallen from his face make its way down your collarbone. "Don't cry, Luci, I'm not upset, not at all." You lifted his head up to wipe away his remaining tears. "Let's get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." You planted a kiss on his forehead, and from the dim red light that shown through your windows, you could see a small smile appear on his face. He laid down, his back facing you as you wrapped your arms around him and brought him flush to your chest. You could hear his breathing start to even about again.

"I don't deserve you," he murmured.

"You know I think the same thing every day," you respond.

He interlaced his fingers with yours at your words, squeezing you hand softly. "Promise me you'll never think that again. Please. You deserve everything and more."

"Alright," you conceded, kissing the back of his head, "as long as you promise me the same thing. You're my everything, and I'll spend the rest of my afterlife showing you that."

"Okay," he spoke weakly. You intertwined your legs with his, bringing yourself as close to him as possible. "I still intend to keep my other promise. I'll be gone before you wake up."

"You can stay as long as you need to," you whispered before drifting off to sleep once more.

~~~

True to his word, Lucifer had managed to sneak away before you woke. After adorning his typical attire, he found himself wandering the halls of the hotel, finally stopping when he reached the lobby. Thinking he was alone, Lucifer started talking to himself and paced back and forth like a madman.

"Was this a mistake? Are we moving too fast? No, no, no it's alright, it's fine! We're fine! Get a fucking GRIP, Lucifer! You're panicking for nothing! She loves you...right? Yes, yes of course she does! Why would she say yes to you?! Unless...NO! No, none of that! Relax! Need to relax..."

"You know, if you don't quit your pacing back and forth, you're gonna wear out the carpet," Husk remarked, attempting to get Lucifer's attention in his anxious state.

"WHAT THE-" Lucifer shrieked hearing the bartender's voice. After seeing Husk standing behind the bar, he breathed out a sigh of relief and clutched his hand to his rapidly beating heart. "Geez, warn a guy next time!" Husk huffed and returned to cleaning the whiskey glass he held in his hand. "How, uhh, how much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to know that you're a fucking mess right now," the cat demon replied, setting down his now clean glass. "Perhaps you need a bartender to talk to."

"Uhh, alright?" Lucifer made his way over to the bar and took a tentative seat on one of the stools.

"This is about your girl, ain't it?" Husk correctly guessed, "about the wedding?" Lucifer sighed and nodded. "Mhmm. You love this gal, don't you?"

"Yes, of course I do!" Lucifer answered almost defensively. "She's...my everything!"

Husk picked up another dirty glass to clean. "And has she given you any reason to doubt that she feels the same way?"

Lucifer huffed. "Well, I...no, no she hasn't. She's always been there for me. Listening to my ramblings, making me laugh, consoling me during the worst times, like last night...she's...she's just perfect!"

"So what's the holdup?" Husk asked after setting the other glass down.

"It's not as simple as you're making it out to be, Husker," Lucifer retorted, pushing his way back from the bar. "I loved Lilith with all of my heart and soul. And she said...that she loved me too. But then one day, she was just gone. Vanished. We fell together. We built a life here TOGETHER! And she just leaves? It's like the last 10,000 years together meant absolutely NOTHING!" Lucifer ran his hands through his hair, trying to keep his composure. "I-I can't lose her like like I lost Lilith. I just can't! I just want to be enough for her. I don't know what I would do if she...", he couldn't finish his sentence. He sat back down at the bar, resting his head in his arms. "The pain would break me..."

The sound of a glass sliding across the counter top caught Lucifer's attention. When he lifted his head, he noticed a full glass of scotch sitting next to him. "Calms the nerves," Husk spoke. Lucifer let out a deep breath and took a swig, choking slightly in the process not realizing how strong it was.

"Not much of a drinker," Lucifer admitted, setting the glass down.

"Sir, if I may..." Husk began.

"You can call me Lucifer," the angel smiled slightly.

Husk smirked. "Lucifer, all I can tell you that love is a vulnerable emotion. I understand that you're afraid. Afraid that history will repeat itself, that your love is not meant to be, and that you're going to end up alone all over again." Lucifer's face sunk, lowering his head against his arms once more. "But," Husk continued, "I know one thing for sure. That girl up there ain't Lilith."

Lucifer raised his head, now hanging onto every word from the bartender.

"If anybody thinks you aren't enough, that's their own fucking problem. And I can tell you that your girl ain't like that at all. She adores ya, can't get her to shut up about ya! Hell, I couldn't even tell you why she ended up down here in the first place! Another one of Heaven's fuck ups, for sure. But for your sake, I'm glad she did." Husk reached over and gulped down Lucifer's unfinished glass of scotch. "Be a shame if it went to waste."

Lucifer let out the smallest of laughs. "Thank you, Husker. And you're right, even in this God forsaken pit, she manages to make it just a little bit brighter. She saved me. And I'm going to devote every moment of my immortal life to her."

"Good to hear. Now..." Husk slammed his hand down on the counter, "get your shit together and go get ready! You got a wedding to attend."

*** You startled awake with the sound of knocking at your door. Your mind was still foggy, brief memories of last night flooded through your head. "Lucifer?" you sat up and looked around your room, but he was already gone, leaving you alone in an empty bed. He had kept his promise after all. There was another set of knocks at the door. "Coming!" you shouted as you ran to grab the robe you had left on the armchair. You opened the door to see Charlie bouncing giddily.

“Good moooorrrrnnniiiinnnngggggg~” she practically sang. “Did you sleep well? Are you ready for your big day?? Are we forgetting anything???” She rapid fired questions at you while you were still rubbing the crust from your eyes.

“Charlie, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re more excited than I am,” you joked, gesturing her to come in. “In order: Yes, I slept…well. Yes, I’m ready...mentally speaking. And no, we’re definitely not forgetting anything. You’re the most meticulous and thoughtful person I know, you definitely have everything planned to a tee! You practically leapt out of your skin when we asked if you would officiate.”

"Aww, thank you!" Charlie smiled as she skipped into your room. "And of course! I would never turn down such an opportunity! Being the princess of Hell does have its perks! You can never be too prepared, ya know? Especially for a day that's so wonderful and magical and full of love!" You saw tears welling up in her eyes out of pure joy.

"Hey now, I thought I was the one that was supposed to be crying today!" you joked.

"Right, right! Sorry!" She wiped the tears from her eyes and grabbed your hands excitedly. "Let's get your hair and make up done!"

Charlie dragged you over to the vanity and sat you down in the chair. You weren't one to wear much makeup typically, but Charlie insisted. And when Charlie asks for something, it's pretty much impossible to tell her no. So you obliged. But you made her promise that she would not go overboard, only the basics. Thankfully you showered the night before, so your hair just needed a good brush through. Charlie grabbed the hairbrush and began to comb through your hair, gently pulling out the knots out of the nasty case of bed head you were sporting. She truly was the kindest soul you've ever met. But that didn't stop you from feeling a little awkward.

"Charlie," you mumbled, "can I-oww...can I ask you something?"

"Yes, absolutely!" She grabbed the the already plugged-in curler and started working on adding some volume to your hair.

"Are...are you sure you're alright with this?" you asked timidly. "I mean...me and your father. I just don't want you to think I'm trying to, you know...replace your mother. I know I don't know much about her or your relationship but..."

Charlie put down the curler and kneeled down next to you, gently grabbing your hand. "You don't need to worry about that! I promise, it's alright with me. It's more than alright, actually! I haven't seen my dad this happy in a long, long time. He loves you so much! You wanna know how I know that? Because he tells me. Every single day. His eyes light up when anybody mentions your name! And I know you would never do anything to hurt him, or me. You're too kind and good hearted for that. I know it may feel like you're inserting yourself into the picture, but I'm more than happy to have you as part of our family! I know the love you have for my dad is genuine, and I wouldn't change a thing!"

A smile formed on your face. "Thank you, Charlie."

"Now," Charlie hopped up from the floor and grabbed the large make up bag sitting on the counter, “time to make magic happen! I have the perfect idea! Close your eyes and no peaking until I say so!”

*** You could feel your heart beating out of your chest as you stood in front of the closed ballroom doors. You knew just on the other side of that door was the love of your life, and he was waiting for you. Husk linked your arm with his, flashing you a warm smile. "You ready?"

You let out a few shaky breaths before you could answer him. "Y-yes."

"Don't worry, I gotcha," he comforted, "one step at a time, alright? Trust me, whatever you're feeling now, he was in much worse shape this morning. Nearly had to kick his ass to the altar myself. But I straightened him out for ya."

You could help but laugh. "Thanks, Husk. And thank you for walking me down. I know this isn't really a traditional wedding, but I appreciate everything you and everyone else have done for us."

"No thanks is necessary," Husk replied, "for what you do for Charlie and the hotel, it's the least I can do. You're a good one to be sure. And the King is damn lucky to have ya." You smiled and tightened your grip on Husk's arm as you heard the faint sound of music start to play on the other side. "It's time."

Without another word, the large wooden doors opened in front of you, and the music could be heard much more clearly now. The Bridal Chorus. Husk waited on your command as you took the first step. You scanned the room. You saw Vaggie and Cherri standing to one side, Angel off to the other, while Niffty skipped in front of you throwing a mix of flower petals and roaches. You noticed Charlie straight ahead of you in a lovely blue suit, a color you've never seen her wear before. You also took notice to the fact there didn't seem to be any organ in the room, despite the music that continued to play as you walked. You guessed it was some of Lucifer's magic. He really knew how to set the scene for the occasion.

Finally, your eyes found Lucifer. He looked at you as if you were the most angelic being he's ever laid his eyes on. You couldn't quite make out the details of his face yet, but you could tell that tears had begun rolling down his face. You saw his suit for the first time. A beautiful black velvet suit with embroidered gold detailing on the jacket. He looked like royalty.

Lucifer stared back at you, fighting every urge in his body to run to you and scoop you up in his arms. Your dress was immaculate. A stunning flowing sleeveless white dress adorned with fluffy scarlet feathers that were scattered across the skirt and completely covered the bodice. An homage to your future husband. You were only a few feet from him now. His smile could have lit the darkest of rooms. The tears continued to flow from his eyes, and you could feel tears threatening to leave yours as well.

"Deep breaths," Husk murmured to you before stepping to the side to join Angel. You inhaled deeply, holding your breath until you stood directly in front of Lucifer, only exhaling when he reached out and held your hands in his.

The music stopped. Your heartbeat was the only thing you could hear now.

Charlie cleared her throat. "Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today to join these two souls before us in holy matrimony. I understand that the couple have written their own vows." Charlie glanced your way and beamed. "Ladies first!" You smiled back at her then turned your full attention to Lucifer, staring lovingly and longingly into his eyes. You had spent the entire week practicing and memorizing your words for this very moment. You breathed in, and you breathed out.

"Lucifer, words cannot begin to describe how you make me feel. You have shown me so much compassion, understanding, care, and adoration that I had never experienced on Earth. My promise to you is that I will always stay by your side, I will never abandon you, and I will love you for the rest of my after life. You've changed my life for the better, and I will make sure that I do the same for you. You are my one true love, forever and always. I love you, my angel."

Lucifer pulled one of his hands away to wipe away the tears the refused to stop flowing. Angel pulled out a handkerchief and brought it over to him and began patting it across his cheeks. You looked at Charlie who had also started to cry. She quickly composed herself and turned towards her father. "D-Dad?" she squeaked out.

Once Lucifer was able to compose himself, he took hold of your hands once more. "My love, I have existed since before the dawn of creation. And in my thousands of years of existence, no one has brought me as much joy as you have. You came into my life suddenly, like a thief in the night, and stole my most precious possession. My heart. It is yours now, for eternity and even beyond. I promise that you will never know another day of sadness, of heartbreak, or of loneliness. My devotion to you is boundless and unfathomable and never ending. I am yours. I love you, my queen."

Razzle appeared in front of the two of you, displaying the silver wedding rings for each of you. You and Lucifer took your respective ring to to place on the other's hand.

"Lucifer," Charlie spoke through her sniffles "will you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife; will you love, honor, and cherish her, hold her up in the good times and the bad, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do, forever," he answered, sliding the ring onto your finger.

Charlie turned and repeated the question to you.

"Yes, I do," you proclaimed, sliding the ring onto his hand in the same manner.

"By the power vested in me, as princess of Hell, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

You and Lucifer smiled at each other, no longer able to hold back any of your tears. Lucifer cupped your face and brought your lips to his for a tender kiss. You heard the cheers from the others in the room, and you definitely heard Angel whistle as your lips connected. When you pulled apart, something had caught your eye. Your rings were glowing. Magic in the form of golden dust surrounded each of them, swirling around the metal bands.

"What's this?" You asked Lucifer, who didn't seem alarmed at all.

He chuckled. "You're the new Queen of Hell, my darling. This magic is a symbol. It signifies that you are no longer bound by the rules that govern the sinners; you are bound to me. You have free reign to travel anywhere you wish, including the other rings of Hell. You're now one of the most powerful beings in the realm! But we can get into the finer details later; for now," Lucifer pecked your lips once again, "let's celebrate!"

After wiping away her excessive tears, Charlie cleared her throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce to you for the first time ever, Mr. and Mrs. Morningstar!" The crowd cheered as you walked hand in hand with your husband back down the aisle.

"Who's ready to fucking PARTY?!" Cherri yelled behind you as you all made your way towards the bar in the lobby.

Drinks poured at the reception, everyone was cutting lose and having fun! You two had decided to partake in as many traditional reception activities as you could! Neither of you knew how you ended up with so much cake all over yourselves, but it was alright considering Lucifer easily snapped his fingers and both of you ended up back in pristine condition. You invited everyone to participate in the bouquet toss, but it was Vaggie who ended up with the flowers in the end. She absolutely failed to hide her blush from Charlie who was jumping for joy! But this next tradition was something Lucifer had really been looking forward to; the garter belt toss.

Ever the showman, Lucifer hiked up your dress to your thigh and rather than using his hands, he decided to use his teeth to pull the garment down. His head lingered near your thigh way longer than necessary, and you could Angel snickering as Lucifer dragged it down the length of your leg.

"Oh, you're gonna get it," you leaned down to whisper to him, hoping no one else could hear.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Lucifer retorted with the garter belt still between his teeth.

To no one's surprise, Angel was the one to catch the belt once Lucifer finally tossed it.

The reception was going off without a hitch. Everyone was having the time of their lives getting plastered and gorging themselves on the enormous buffet Lucifer hand conjured up. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a new purple dress; the lavender one that you really liked that you had tried on a week ago before you got yanked out of the dressing room by a certain horny angel. Thankfully, you two were able to go back to the store the next day to properly purchase it. You and Lucifer were given your own large round table so you wouldn't have to sit at the crowded bar. Luckily for Lucifer, this gave him easy access to you. As the reception went on and with no one being the wiser, Lucifer's hand found your thigh once more, gliding it up ever so slowly before you shot him a knowing glance.

"What do you say we leave early," he proposed innocently, "I have a wonderful surprise for my new bride once we're on our honeymoon."

You playfully grabbed Lucifer's wandering hand and pushed it down towards your knee. "Luci, it's only been an hour! You can't tell me you can't wait just a little longer, can you?"

Lucifer stuck out his lip and pouted sweetly. "Oh, but my love, have you forgotten? It's been an entire week! And you know how well behaved I've been, I am nothing if not a man of my word." You felt his hand begin its ascent on your leg once more. You didn't stop him. "But I can only be a gentleman for so long..."

You didn't want to admit it, but you were in the same boat as well. That week apart had been almost tortuous. But you were more than willing to wait until the party was over. Your husband, however, appeared to have a different idea.

Alright then.

Before his hand could climb any higher, your hand shot down immediately to his crotch. Lucifer bit back a yelp as he felt you palm him through his pants. His hand stopped all motion, but instead started digging into your thigh, ultimately trying to remain calm. But that task seemed nearly impossible with the way your hand continued its ministrations, his pants feeling tighter and tighter with every passing second.

"D-Darling, please..." he begged through his clenched teeth.

You grinned wickedly. "You want me to take care of you, Luci?" He nodded his head vigorously. "We're not leaving early. But, I'll help you out as a good wife should, yeah?" Lucifer panted, his nails now dangerously close to breaking through your skin. "Head to the restroom just down the hall. Give me a minute and I'll follow you. I'll knock three times to let you know it's me. I have a plan. No touching yourself, understand?"

"Y-Yes," he breathed. When he was sure no one was looking, he stood up from his chair as fast as possible before making his way down the hall. Once you saw him disappear around the corner, it was time to give yourself some cover.

"Angel!" you yelled across the room, waving your hands to flag him down. The spider demon turned his head and smiled. He said something inaudible to Cherri before making his way over to you.

"Hey there, pretty lady!" Angel bent over and folded is first pair arms on the table, "Congratulations on the new gig! Being Queen of Hell sure is a status boost!"

"Yeah, I still need time to process that," you admitted. "So Angel, can you umm, do me a favor?"

Angel stood up and slicked his hair back. "Oh, anything for the new member of the royal family! What can I do ya for, doll face?"

You let out a shaky breath. "Can you...how do I say this...cause some sort of distraction?" Angel raised an eyebrow. "I just need to take care of something real quick."

"Uh huh," Angel chuckled, "you need to take care of something? Or someone?~" You pursed your lips, a light blush dashed across your cheeks. You really should have known better than to try and tiptoe around your means of leaving with Angel. "That's what I thought. Don't think I didn't notice the King almost sprint out of here just now. Man is absolutely smitten with ya! But you'll get no judgement from me, baby, I know how it is! Consider this your wedding gift, I typically end up being the most distracting person wherever I go! How much time do you need?"

"Five minutes?"

"Oh honey, I think you're giving him way too much credit, especially considering the state he's in." Angel laughed, "I can give you three."

"Four."

"Deal," Angel stuck a hand out for you to shake. He was ready to turn away when he flashed you a wink. "Get ready!"

As soon as you heard Angel shout loud enough to grab everyone's attention, you got up from the table and followed Lucifer's path down the hall. Once you stood in front of the restroom door, you knocked on it three times just as you said you would. It took less than a second for the door to swing open and for Lucifer to pull you inside. He locked the door behind you and crashed his lips into yours. You pushed him up against the door as you slipped your tongue further into his mouth. He was devouring you as his hands gripped your hips.

"We don't have a lot of time," you said breathlessly, "we have four minutes."

"How did-HHNG," Lucifer wanted to question until you began to palm at his now very apparent erection through his pants again.

"Let's just say I owe Angel big time." You started to fumble with Lucifer's belt, pulling it off of his pants with a quick flick of your arm. Your hands worked at the button and zipper of his pants next, going almost too fast for you to properly hold anything. You gripped the hem of his pants and boxers and were about to pull them down together until Lucifer grabbed your wrists.

"Wait, wait! What about you?" he asked. Even in such a lust filled state, he still only ever thought about you. God, you really hit the jackpot.

You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I appreciate it hon, but we really don't have the time to argue about this. Four minutes, remember? Probably closer to three now." You pulled your hands away from Lucifer's grip and went back to the hem of his pants, pulling down his boxers in the process, finally freeing his hardened cock that was already leaking precum. You placed your hands on either side of his hips, his back flush against the door. "You better tell me what you want quickly, Luci."

Lucifer gulped hard, staring at you through half-lidded eyes. "T-touch me...please...n-need you..."

Without another word, you moved to stand at Lucifer's side as your one hand gripped his shaft while the other cupped his mouth to keep him from making too much noise. "Shh, gotta be quiet, my love. You don't want the others to hear how your queen makes you feel." He nodded his head silently as you began to stroke him. You watched as precum dripped onto the floor below; it was obvious how pent up he was. You quickly picked you the pace as your hand moved up and down his cock, thumbing over the tip only for Lucifer to mewl into your hand and buck up into your touch. His breathing became more and more staggered by the second, he wasn't going to last much longer at this rate. But you knew you were running out of time and your hands alone were not going to be enough to finish the job. "Not a sound," you commanded as you released your hand from his mouth, dropping to your knees in an instant. Before Lucifer could protest, your mouth had already full engulfed his length. He threw his own hand over his mouth to muffle his screams as best he could. Your head bobbed up and down rapidly on his cock while stopping every few seconds to lap circles around his tip. He was close.

"F-Fuu-uuccckk," he whimpered, "I-I'm g-mmph...gonna c-cum...shitshitSHIT!" And almost on cue, you felt him empty himself inside you. Strings of hot cum hit that back of your throat while you continued to suck him off, helping him ride out his orgasm. Once he was finished, you let his now softened dick fall from your lips, not letting a single drop leave your mouth. You gracefully stood up and grabbed his belt that you had flung earlier and handed it to him.

"Feel better?" you whispered in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

He turned his head to meet your lips once more. He always loved the taste of him on your mouth. "Immeasurably," Lucifer moaned into you.

"And only with a few seconds to spare!" Lucifer buckled his pants once more while you walked over to the sink and began soaking one of the wash cloths in cool water. You dabbed the towel on his forehead, attempting to cool him down. "Can't have you looking so disheveled, my king."

"I promise to make this up to you," Lucifer swore. "You should never be left unsatisfied."

You smiled and kissed him on the forehead sweetly. "My satisfaction is knowing I'm the only one who can pull those beautiful sounds out of you." Lucifer could help but look away from you in embarrassment. "Now, if you promise to behave for the rest of the party, let's just say I have a...proposition for you later tonight. I know exactly how you can pay me back." You unlocked the bathroom door and held it open for him. "Let's not keep our guests waiting!"

~~~

IT'S SO FUCKING LATE RIGHT NOW HOLY GOD I WAS ON A ROLL I DIDN'T WANT TO STOP! I hope you guys are ready for the honeymoon ;)

Taglist: @ask-theradio-demon @kermitdafroggy @thonethatflies620 @luc1fersducky @a-okay-rj @bat-boness @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis @misfitgirlwrites @animationmovieshipps @orbitinglumps @ramenkitten @blaackbiird @bigfatbimbo @lucisaspen @bvnnyangel @seulace9 @fluffypinkpillows @starlightdreaming @k-n0-x @rosen-und-mondlicht @raindropsfromheaven @slutforlucifermorningstar (I'm sorry if I missed anyone!)

[afroditisworld]

Nobody

Sirius Black x insecure!Reader

Warnings: graphic bullying, use of mudblood, use of pet names (luv) if you are not into that please do not read.

word count: 5k

Being a muggle-born at Hogwarts was not easy. You were not popular, but you didn't care. What was important to you were your close friends, who embraced you for who you were. But Avery, a pureblood wizard who had a talent for tormenting anyone who didn't conform to his ideals, had taken a particular interest in making your life difficult. And being introverted didn't help; you were an easy target for his devious schemes.

You knew that Hogwarts was supposed to be a place of magic and wonder, but it often felt like a dark and lonely place for you. Avery would call you mudblood, make rude remarks in class, and even trip you in the hallways. But you refused to show him that his words and actions affected you.

Your friends could tell how badly you were hurting and did everything they could to help you. They even encouraged you to speak with your teachers. You knew deep down that your friends were right; you should speak with a teacher about what was happening. But every time the thought crossed your mind, fear held you back. Fear of making things worse; fear of being seen as weak or unable to handle the situation on your own. 

It had become a vicious cycle; Avery's bullying behaviour continued because he knew he could get away with it. And the longer it went on, the harder it became for you to break out of that pattern.

Avery's taunts and pranks appeared to get worse over time. He would usually see you in empty hallways or classrooms, making rude comments about his belief in your lack of magical abilities. You tried to ignore him, but it was becoming more difficult. You were trying to convince yourself that if you were patient, things would work out and that you could handle one more year since it was your final year. Your friends immediately noticed something was wrong, and they would always ask what was bothering you. But the answer was always the same: "It's fine, I'm fine. But you were lying first to yourself and then to them. 

As the year dragged on with no change in sight, you were desperate for something to break the monotony. And then it happened in Slughorn's class. When he asked to work as a team of two on an advanced Potions assignment, you were about to speak up and ask to work alone, as you always had before, but before the words could escape your lips, a figure slid into the seat next to you.  

"Excuse me." The boy's voice suddenly cut through your thoughts. You turned to see none other than Sirius Black, the infamous troublemaker of Hogwarts, standing beside you. "Do you mind if we work together? My seatmate is feeling sick, so...” Sirius continued. As someone who preferred to work alone, you were not used to being approached for group projects. But with Remus missing classes due to his monthly transformations, it seemed Sirius had no other choice.

“Y-yeah sure… Um, I don’t mind,” you replied with a slow nod. 

"So, what's your name?" Sirius asked. As Sirius asked for your name, you couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness. How could someone not know a student in the same class as them? 

"Y/L/N, Y/L/N, Y/N," you answered quickly, feeling invisible compared to his charm and presence. 

"Sirius Black," he introduced himself, but the words felt hollow to you.

“I know who you are,” you  commented of course everyone knew who he was. But as your own words slipped out without thinking, seeing Sirius's confusion only made you feel more insignificant.

“Um, we-we have been in the same class s-since first year. That's why.” You continued, trying not to sound awkward, but failed. 

Sirius' eyes widened as he realised his ignorance after six years. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, his voice sounding odd and disappointed.

"Oh, it's fine. It's not the first time that something like this has happened to me." You blurted out, immediately regretting your words as a wave of awkwardness washed over you. You quickly averted your gaze back to the professor, hoping to avoid any further social mishaps.

As you scribbled notes in your potions textbook, a mix of disappointment hit you as you observed him not even attempting to take any notes; maybe he expected to do all the work. But that wasn't true. Sirius was on his own mind, thinking that Hogwarts wasn't even big enough to not know all the students in his year, but here he was to prove that wrong. 

When the class drew to a close, you began gathering your things. Sirius leaned over and asked, "How are we going to do this?" You were confused; you didn't know if he was genuinely offering his help or trying to avoid the project altogether. Before you could respond, his friends called out to him, and they left with a promise to catch up later. 

When he shifted his attention to you, he realised you were still packing your stuff.  

"I'll wait for you outside, okay?" he announced, and you responded with a gentle "Okay" and a nod. 

As you were about to leave the classroom, your professor's voice stopped you. "Miss Y/L/N, the potion will be far simpler to accomplish if you work with a team." Slughorn leaned back in his chair, observing you with a sly grin. "I've heard you prefer to work alone," he continued. Before he could say anything else, you interrupted him. 

"I'll work with Surius Black," but you didn't know if that was true. 

When you left the classroom, you instantly noticed him. Sirius Black leaned against the wall. He waved for you to see him, but it wasn't necessary; he was always seen.  He was Gryffindor's golden boy, both pure-blood and Black who always managed to stand out. He possessed everything you didn't. 

As you approached him, his voice rang out in your ears: "So, how are we going to tackle this?". You furrowed your brows, unsure of how to respond. Working in a team was unfamiliar territory for you, leaving you at a loss for words. 

"Um...how do you usually work?" you asked, tilting your head to the side. 

"Oh, Jamie and I just joke around while Moony does all the real work," he chuckled, adding to your confusion. 

"Moony?" you inquired, looking up at him curiously. 

"Remus," he clarified with a nod of his head. 

"So...I can handle the potion then; no need for-" you started to say before Sirius cut you off. 

"No, no, no, that's not what I meant. I want us to work on this together," he interjected eagerly, causing a small smile to grace your lips. 

"We can meet tomorrow after classes in the library if you're free," he suggested. 

You were ready to tell him that the library was your second home, where you spent most of your time lost in books or studying, but decided against it to avoid sounding too pitiful.

So you simply nodded and said, "Yes, it's fine with me," with a slight smile.

"Great, it's a plan then," he stated before leaving.

 But before you could move on to your next class, you heard a familiar voice calling for you. 

“Oi, mudblood,” you heard Avery’s voice, but you decided to ignore it, starting to walk as fast as you could. But he and his friend group didn’t seem to want to leave you alone. 

So he called you again. “Oi, I’m talking to you.” Avery's voice was harsh and grating, cutting through the air as he continued to call out to you. His friends snickered and whispered amongst themselves, adding to the cacophony of mocking voices. And yet, there was a hint of mocking in his tone, a cruel edge that made your skin uneasy.

Your heart raced as their footsteps grew louder and their presence loomed closer. Even if you tried to get away from them, they would always catch you, and you knew it when you felt Avery’s hand in your hair pulling you back at him.

"Where do you think you're going?" Avery sneered, his grip tightening on your hair. The fear in your eyes only seemed to fuel his cruel amusement.

He made you look at him; your eyes were full of tears, and your heart started beating faster.

"When I'm talking to you, you better listen. Show some respect," he said, and a painful whine left your mouth. You heard all of them laughing at your pain, and you couldn't do anything other than look down. You felt so small and pathetic.

"Oh, poor mudblood." The cruel voice of Mulciber pierced through the air, making fun of your blood status. "You and Black, such a perfect match, a mudblood and a blood traitor," he said disgustingly.

As Avery let go of your hair, tears streamed down your cheeks. You stumbled away, feeling the weight of their hatred bear down on you. You hurried to your next class, trembling and glancing over your shoulder to ensure no one was following you. Even as you ran, the hurtful words echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of the division and disapproval that filled the wizarding world.

The next day, you couldn't stop thinking about your study with Sirius; it was the first time you'd work on a project with someone you didn't know well, and you were nervous, not knowing how to act because it was new to you. So as soon as the classes finished, you rushed to the library; you didn't want to be late. You found your usual seat available, and you waited for him. But as time ticked by and he still hadn't shown up, you couldn't help but feel abandoned and forgotten. Maybe he had other priorities or forgot about your meeting altogether. Defeated, you resigned yourself to working alone.

You began to gather your materials by finding books that would help you with the potion and the things that you would need. After half an hour, your desk was filled with books, and the library started getting busier. When you were ready to sit at your desk and start the research, a book caught your attention. It was about Greek mythology. And, oh, how you love it! you started flicking through the pages with such interest that you didn't hear someone getting closer to you.

"So here you are." Sirius' playful voice brought you back to reality. He even scared you so much that you flinched, and as a result, the book fell from your hand.

"You came," you said, biting your lip and trying to hide a smile.

"Of course, I came, Y/N; we said that we were going to do this together," he commented. You kneeled to get your book as you smiled. His answer made you feel relaxed.

"So, where were you? For a minute, I thought you stood me up," he laughed.

"N-no! I, um, I was right there," you said as you showed him with your hands where you were sitting.

When Sirius looked at your desk, which had a pile of books now, he left a small chuckle and said, "That's why I didn't see you; I don't think that I have ever come to this corner of the library."

"Well, it's really quiet there, even on the busiest days of exams; it's always empty. It's like my secret place; well, not anymore, but you know…" you said, looking away, feeling that you overshared again. Sirius smiled warmly and said, "I won't tell anyone about your secret spot, I promise." and you couldn't help but smile back.

"So what's all that?" he said as you got closer to your desk, which was filled with a pile of books by now.

"Oh, um, I found some books that could help us; um, I thought you forgot, and I started by myself." You said and bit your lips.

When you took a seat, Sirius sat next to you. You started explaining the books you found and how they could be useful for the project you were working on together.

You didn't know what time it was, but the library was empty by now, and you had made so many notes that your hand was hurting. You left a small groan and turned to look at Sirius, who was already looking at you. 

"Luv, we can do it together tomorrow if you are tired," he commented, making you blush with the nickname.

Sirius noticed it, of course; he also noticed your shy personality, how you talk softly, and how you always seem to put others before yourself. It was one of the things he admired most about you.

"Tomorrow?" you asked, tilting your head.

"Yeah… What? You don't like my company," he asked, teasing you.

"No, no, no, it's not that, I swear," you said immediately, shaking your head.

Sirius smiled playfully at your reaction. "I'm only teasing you, Luv," he said, making you blush once again.

"I just thought you would have other things to do on your Saturday," you said as you both started getting your stuff ready to leave the library. 

"So what are you reading?" he asked as you picked the book you were interested in before. 

"Oh, it's about Greek mythology; I'm really into it. You know Circe was a witch who lived in ancient Greece; she was a minor goddess who was said to transform sailors lost around her island of Aeaea into animals via the use of enchanted food." You said with one breath. When you saw Sirius's shocked face, you looked down at your hands as you murmured, "Sorry, I get easily excited," with an awkward smile. 

"Don't apologise; it's nice to have something to get you this excited," Sirius said as you left the library. 

"Do you?" you asked, eager to learn more about him. 

"Oh yeah, for me, it's music that's keeping me excited. Mostly muggle music. Do you know, um, David Bowie, Led Zeppelin, Queen, ABBA? They are singers and bands," he asked you. 

"Of course, I know them," you said with a smile. "I'm muggle-born after all, Sirius." You continued. 

Sirius's eyes widened; he didn't expect that you were so smart and you were always studying—at least this was what he understood—that he thought you were from a strict pureblood family that he didn't know about. 

"It doesn't matter," he said immediately as he saw your smile drop. "I just didn't know," he commented, trying to justify his reaction. "But who's your favourite one?" he asked, attempting not to make things more awkward than they already were.  

"Oh, Fleetwood Mac," you said with a nod as Sirius smiled at you, happy with your answer. "Yours?" you asked. 

"Led Zeppelin," he told you. 

"So you like hard stuff?" you said with an innocent smirk. 

"Yeah, luv, I like the hard stuff," Sirius said, grinning at you, making you blush and look away to hide it. 

And so the days passed, with you and Sirius studying together and hanging out for reasons other than studying. You two had gotten pretty close by talking about your interests and teasing each other about them. When you were with Sirius, you felt like someone else, and he made it easy for you to open up because he was always listening to you. So you began to wonder if something might change during your final year at Hogwarts. But, oh… How stupid were you?

You were having breakfast with your friends, talking about how you would spend your weekend when you told them that you had a study section with Sirius, and all of them smirked at you. 

"You know, I'm starting to believe you have a crush on Sirius Black." Your best friend said. 

"N-no, no, we are just studying really," you said immediately, trying to defend yourself, but the truth was that you were starting to like his company a little bit more. Your friends saw that and decided to drop the conversation. 

"We are heading outside," one of your friends said. "When you are done, come find us," she continued with a smile. You nodded, but you couldn't stop thinking about what they said earlier. Was it so easy to understand your crush on Sirius? 

"You know, when I said you and Black would be a perfect match, I didn't really mean it." Avery's cold voice broke your thoughts. "He would never like you; you're just a mudblood." He said and with a laugh, he left. 

You couldn't move. The only thing that was playing on your mind was, 'How does he know?' You tried to act like nothing happened and like what he just said didn't affect you. But it did. And Surius noticed that. He noticed how your expression changed when Avery talked to you. And he was surprised with himself because Sirius couldn't even understand when his friends were mad at him. 

"Is Y/N okay?" he asked his friends without thinking. 

"Who's Y/N?" Peter asked. 

Sirius then shook his head towards you, and all his friends—Remus, James, Peter, and Lily—turned to look at you. 

"Oh, the lonely girl," James said with a smile, relieved that he knew you, winning a death stare from Lily. James didn't mean to offend anyone; he simply didn't think twice before speaking. 

"Oi, mate," said Remus, looking at James. "I know her; she's always in the library," Remus continued looking at Sirius now. 

"Why wouldn't she be okay?" Lily asked. 

"And since you care ?" James butted in. 

"Um, well, Avery was talking to her," Sirius answered Lily, never taking his eyes off of you.

A small "Oh" left Lily's lips and continued, "He's been making her life difficult since the first year. She's his easy victim, you know because she's muggle-born." 

Sirius didn't even think twice; he just stood up and started getting closer to you. 

"What about my question ?" Was the last thing he heard from his table, coming from James. 

When Sirius came and sat next to you at first, you didn't notice him.

"Y/N." His soft voice made you look up at him. "You good, luv?" he asked, and the stupid nickname gave you butterflies, forgetting for a little what had happened before. 

"Yeah, I- I'm fine," you murmured with a nod. "Do you need something, Sirius?" you asked him gently. 

"No… Actually, I'm just checking," he replied. "I didn't know that you were friends with Avery," he said, trying to make you open up to him. 

You shook your head instantly. "We are not; he just, um, he just wanted to ask something."

Sirius didn't expect this answer, so he asked again. You just nodded, and before he could say anything else, you left him alone. As you were leaving, you couldn't only feel his eyes on you but his friends as well. 

You started walking away from the Great Hall as fast as you could because the only thing that you wanted right now was to lie on your bed. 

When your body hit the bed, the only thing that came to mind was that you could handle Avery's attitude because, after all, you were strong. The minutes ticked by, each one feeling like a heavy stone on your chest. Shadows danced on the room's walls as the sun set. The silence and solitude were overwhelming, leaving you feeling restless and bored.

So you decided to get up and find your friends, who were very concerned about you. But a few minutes later, you regret your decision. 

"You and Black are pretty close." It was Snape's voice that made you stop moving. You closed your eyes, and you could feel your heart beating faster. "Yeah, Y/N, I thought we were your only friends," said Avery with a humiliating laugh. 

"I-" you tried to defend yourself. But before you even had the opportunity to say something more, Snape pushed you, making you fall with your back. 

"I don't think that you told him anything, right mudblood?" said Snape as Avery was pushing you down with his feet. 

A small, painful whine left your mouth, and you looked up at them. "What? Are you scared of him, Snape?" you asked. 

Snape didn't answer you, but Avery did. "You wish, mudblood. Dare to tell him anything, and I swear to Salazar, I'll kill you," he said, and with that, he left you alone.

You stood up; your lips were trembling as you tried to hold back tears. Snape's cold eyes bore into yours, sending a chill down your spine. The threat from Avery lingered in the air, leaving you feeling more weak than ever. You quickly wiped away the tears and squared your shoulders, refusing to show weakness in front of Snape. Taking a deep breath, you turned and walked away, determined not to let them see you break. 

And this is how you end up spending your Saturday evening in the library; you didn't have the energy to go hang out with your friends, and you just needed something to make you forget about the whole day. So you went to the library to do what you knew best: study. 

"I knew that I could find you here." Sirius interrupted your studies with a cheerful voice, making you look up at him. 

"You were looking for me?" you asked, confused, tilting your head quizzically. 

"Yeah… you looked tense this morning, and I didn't see you with your friends after, so I- I was kinda worried," Sirius told you, surprised with himself and with a small smile as he played with his hair awkwardly. The Casanova boy was surprised by himself; he noticed you like he had known you for years. He noticed the way you reacted when Avery was close to you and how you avoided his question this morning, and he even noticed that you weren't with your friends. If Sirius didn't know himself better, he could say he was falling for you.   

"Um, sorry for worrying you; I was just tired," you answered by lying. 

"Don't apologise to me, Y/N; come on," Sirius said, feeling sick that you felt the need to offer an apology. You opened your mouth to apologise to him, but you closed it once more. 

"Are Avery and his friends bothering you, luv?" he asked with a sad smile. 

You shook your head right away. "What? No, um, where did this come from?" 

"Well, this morning-" he started saying, but you interrupted him.

"Don't worry about me, Sirius; everything is fine," you said as you stood up to go find some books that you needed for the project, trying to get away from this conversation. But Sirius followed you through the aisle of the bookshelves.

"But are you fine, Y/N?" Sirius spoke again, making you look at him and give him a painful smile.

"Of course," you said as you pulled him by his wrist to follow you. You really liked his company; he made you forget all about your problems, especially when he wasn't talking about them.

"So you did the project all alone?" he asked playfully.

"Well, almost. I really wanted to do something, and it was my only unfinished assignment," you answered him. Then you stopped moving tip-toeing to get the book that you needed, but you couldn't reach it.

"Let me get it for you, luv," Sirius whispered with his husky voice, his hand gently brushing yours as he reached for the book. His closeness and touch sent a wave of tingling sensations throughout your body, making it hard to focus on anything else.

You took the book from Sirius, trying to steady your trembling hands. "T-thanks," you stammered, avoiding his intense gaze as you pretended to focus on the pages. 

When you looked down, your hair fell to your face, and Sirius couldn't help himself but reach out to tuck a loose strand behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment longer than necessary. The small gesture sent your heart racing, and you couldn't help but wonder if Sirius felt the same electric connection between you both. With his index finger, Sirius made you look at him; you were a blushing mess. 

"Love it when I make you blush for me," Sirius said, and before you could even progress what he said, he leaned down and kissed you. His lips were warm and soft against yours. A shiver ran down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. It was a moment filled with passion and longing, leaving you breathless and wanting more. 

"Sirius," you breathed out. You felt your face getting hotter again; you knew you were blushing. You tried to hide your face with your hands, but Sirius was quicker. He gently pulled your hands away, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked into your eyes with adoration. "Don't hide your pretty face from me, Y/N," he whispered, his thumb brushing against your cheek. The intensity of his gaze made your heart race even faster. You felt like Sirius genuinely cared for you like he had noticed you. Like you were finally seen by someone. 

Sirius's hands hugged your face, and before he could even reach for you, someone called his name. 

"Sirius," said Remus, and with the sudden interruption, you flinched and got away from Sirius's touch. 

"James was looking for you; you have to go to practice, you know." Looking once at Sirius and once at you, the tall boy spoke. 

"Did I interrupt anything ?" He asked as he noticed your flushed face. Sirius rolled his eyes at him and then looked at you again. 

"Look, luv, as much as I would love to sit here and help you with our project, I have to go to practice or James would kill me, and we don't want that, do we?" He said with a playful smirk as you shook your head, biting your lips, and tried not to smile at his cockiness. 

"I- I can give you the result later if you want," you said shyly. 

"Perfect, I see you by nine in Gryffindor's common room," he said, turning to his friends and leaving. Before they could even disappear from your sight, you heard Sirius talking.

"Bad timing, Moony, bad timing." and a small smile was placed on your lips. You were so eager to get this project done so you could spend some time with Sirius.

 So once you were done and the clock was showing 9 p.m., you hurried to Gryffindor's common room, hoping he would be there. So when you were inside —some first years had opened for you— you heard Sirius before you saw him. 

"I think Avery is really messing with Y/N; maybe Lily's right," Sirius said. You tried to stay still and not make a sound. You knew what you were doing wasn't right but you couldn't appear now when he was talking about you. 

"Did she told you?" Remus asked him. 

"No, she didn't; actually, I think that she hasn't told anyone," Sirius replied to him. And suddenly, it didn't feel nice to be noticed. Sirius read you like a book, and he displayed you to his friends. You didn't want to sound so miserable, nor did you want everyone to know your problem. 

"How are you so sure, then?" A new voice asked him, Maybe it was James or Peter you didn't know. 

"Her mood is always changing when he's near her, and sometimes I feel like she's scared that he will appear from nowhere." He said again. He made you sound so miserable; you weren't a scared little girl that you needed his help; you could handle it all alone as you did the last seven years. Even though everything he said was true, you felt sad when he talked about your problems with someone; you couldn't even recognise his voice.

"You have known me since the first year, and you can't even notice when I'm mad at you." The unknown voice said again. 

"Oh, come on, Peter, we are talking about some other kind of noticing here; he cares for her in another way," Remus said with a playful tone. You hold your breath, ready to hear Sirius answer, which would make you forget about your second thoughts. But that never came. 

"Yeah… I mean, no, no, it's just sad. I feel bad for her; she's having some difficult times," Sirius stated, making your heart lose a bit. 

Remus breathed out; that was what Sirius always would do: push himself away if he felt emotionally vulnerable. It was frustrating, but Remus knew it was his way of protecting himself.

You felt so empty; he felt sad for you. That's why he noticed you and asked you questions that no one had. Did he kiss you because he felt bad for you?

"Sirius…" it was Remus's disappointed voice that stopped your heartbreaking thoughts. "If it's for pity, you have to stop giving the poor girl hope." You couldn't stand listening to them. You couldn't even stand thinking about what they were saying, so you just left, running from your room. You weren't just some poor girl who needed Sirius Black's pity or his rescue. 

So when you didn't appear in Gryffindor's common room, Sirius was worried sick. Why did you not come? Did something happen to you? Did he make you uncomfortable? But no, he kissed you, and you kissed him back. Maybe you didn't finish the project, or maybe you were too tired. He didn't know what happened, but he would find out the next day, or this was what he said to himself. Sirius was a man with a plan. 

So when he entered the Great Hall and saw Avery at your table, he forgot everything about his plan. 

"I was expecting better from you, Y/N. I thought they were saying that you are smart, but falling for him... Come on, he's Sirius Black, and you are, well, you are a nobody…" Avery said making you feel so small. When Sirius walked into the room and you both saw him, Avery laughed. 

"Poor Y/N, I bet he's talking to you just because he feels sad about you. He's pitting you, but he shouldn't; you are a filthy mudblood after all." He continued. Sirius was now closer, but he still couldn't hear what Avery was telling you. 

"St-Stop it," you said, cringing when you heard your voice cracking. Avery knew what to say to break your heart, and he was doing it intentionally. 

"Oi, Avery, why haven't you shut up already?" Sirius basically shouted, making the whole hall turn to look at you three. 

"Oh, look who's here, the prince with the saviour complex," Avery sneered, turning his attention from you to Sirius. Sirius took a step forward, his eyes blazing with anger, as he prepared to defend you against Avery's cruel words. Every word that was leaving Avery's mouth was hitting you like a knife. 

"Sirius, stop," you managed to say quietly.

"You heard her, Black; your princess doesn't need to be saved," Avery said with a sarcastic smile. 

"Talked to her one more time. I dare you." Sirius said, getting closer to Avery as his eyes darkened. 

"So protective," Avery said as he left you two alone, laughing at both of you. 

"You okay?" he asked, looking worried at you. But when he looked at you like this, the only thing that you could think of was how he talked about you last night. He tried to hold your hand and come closer to you, but you backed off.

"No," you said, looking at him madly and shaking your head. Before he could say anything else, you left him alone, walking away from him. 

"Luv, wait," he called you, but it was too late. But Sirius knew where to find you; you had shown him your secret place, and two minutes later he was facing you again.  

"Why did you leave like this before?" he asked you with a confused look. 

"Obvious, because I want to be left alone, Black," you replied to him without even looking at him. 

"Y/N, what are you even talking about I just… for Merlin's sake I just want to help you" he said trying to catch your eyes. 

"I'm fine I don't need your help or your rescue; I'm not your problem to fix." You said, finally letting out all the things that had been weighing on your mind since last night. 

"No, you are not fine; don't give me this bullshit excuse of yours," Sirius replied, not being able to control his anger anymore.

"Okay, I guess I'm the coward who can't accept the fact that Avery has been messing with me for the last seven years, but who cares Sirius?" Your voice cracked as you shouted the last words, feeling the weight of your heartache crushing down on you.

"Who cares? I care, dammit!" Sirius exclaimed, his voice full of frustration and concern.

But you shook your head, your voice now raspy and weary. "Nobody cares, Sirius. You're just pitying me, and I don't want your pity." The words stung as they left your mouth, but you couldn't stop them

"I don't pity you; I care about you," Sirius insisted, his eyes pleading for you to understand. 

"You didn't even know I existed two weeks ago, Sirius. How can you claim to care now?" Your voice trembled as tears continued to fall on your face. "You're just trying to ease your own guilt by pretending to care about me," you added, feeling a mix of anger and hurt in your voice. 

"I'm sorry if it seems that way, but I truly do care about you," Sirius responded softly, trying to reach for your hand again, but again this time you pulled away, feeling the agony of his words tearing at your heart. "Then please, just stop," you whispered brokenly before turning and walking away from him once more, feeling shattered and alone. 

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

reblogs are always appreciated!

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and i don't want your pity i just want somebody near me

[drfleetflower]

The Arrangement

~Requested~

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Summary: Behind your back, your parents arranged for you to marry the President of Panem: Coriolanus Snow. You have mixed feelings and as the wedding continues, your feelings get even more mixed up.

Warnings: Angst, light fluff, arranged marriage, puking, allusion to intimacy, slight mention of drinking kind of

There will be a part 2!

WC: 2.3k

As the President of Panem, Coriolanus Snow was expected to have the best. The best housing, the best clothing, the best display of wealth and power, and more recently… He was expected to have the best wife. The idea irritated and concerned him, his mind swimming with memories of his failed relationship with Lucy Gray. He couldn’t- no he wouldn’t let himself be fooled again by a pretty face and an enchanting voice. He wasn’t going to tempt himself to fall into the vulnerable and aching embrace of love. But, of course, he couldn’t marry someone completely unappealing either. They would be a public representation of himself and a status symbol. It would be a difficult decision.

- - -

“This is an honor.” Your mother tells you in a soft voice. She tucks some of your loose hair behind your ear and you look down at the letter in your hands. 

“I know.” Is all you can respond with. You do know, but that doesn’t make the news any easier to swallow. Behind your back, your parents arranged for you to marry the president? You hadn’t really thought about marriage, and now you were expected to get hitched to Coriolanus Snow? Not only was he the president, but his family had a long line of power and success. The name Snow was a legacy of greatness, and it would soon be your name. 

It was presented as a choice, but you knew rejecting the proposal would be the wrong one. Your parents were successful, sure, but being the first lady would raise your family up higher than you could imagine. You couldn’t help but wonder why he picked you. 

Your mom waits, more impatient than not. You can tell by the way her knee shakes lightly and her eyes watch your face intently. “I’ll do it, mom.” You finally answer, a slight snip in your voice as you feel rushed to say that. It’s not like anything could change your answer, though. You didn’t need time to think, just time to process. 

Your mother quickly nods in response and, noticing your hostility, leaves just as quick. Likely to bring the good news to your father. You stay right where you are, mulling over this absurd idea. You were convinced as soon as you met Snow, he would laugh in your face, the whole thing a big joke. Or worse, he’d change his mind. How wrong you were…

---

You stepped out of the slick black car sweating, but it wasn’t the heat from the sun turning the car into an oven, the car had air conditioning. What else could you expect from a car the President of Panem owned? It was your nerves. And they got in the way of a lot of things. Impairing your judgment, slowing your movements and making them uncoordinated, you even tended to have trouble speaking properly. Anyone would think you were drunk. 

The driver, an Avox, helped you up the steps leading to the door of the President’s mansion, your skirt was tight and your heels high, doing nothing to help your shaking. Your mother insisted you wear her highest heels, a status symbol? You could manage if you weren’t having trouble hearing anything besides your own quick heartbeat. Despite your parents never being particularly comforting, you felt yourself needing their presence. Being alone made the whole thing that much bigger. 

But they would be at the wedding. The wedding that was set to occur in no more than three hours. The wedding that would be broadcast to all of Panem. The wedding to the man you hadn’t even met yet. The wedding that had your face pasty, your stomach twisting painfully, and your guts spilling out onto the clearly very expensive carpet of the entrance to the President’s home. Not good. 

You look up at the driver and other Avoxes that have suddenly flooded the room. You cringe but they all give you soft looks and some lead you away to get cleaned up while others stay behind to get the carpet cleaned up. That, or just throw it away and replace it, Snow could certainly afford it. 

You’re taken to a surprisingly normal sized room, the furniture dressed in delicately designed skins of floral patterns that look simple but if you looked close enough it was clear that a lot of effort was put into them. And you were looking closely, the whole of your attention on the threaded flowers as the Avoxes wiped your mouth and took your now lightly stained clothes. 

Soon, after you were washed and made into a clean slate, a couple designers you recognized from the Games came in to get you really ready for your wedding. They were stingy with your makeup, a soft and sweet look with colors that complimented your features nicely. Your hair was primarily left alone aside from some shaping to fit a veil. And then your dress… Your dress was not simple. It was decorated with exorbitant beads and jewels that you were impressed avoided looking tacky. You were in awe of yourself as soon as they slipped the dress on. Was that even really you in the mirror? You wouldn’t bat an eye if someone said it was all an illusion. Maybe this was just a strange dream. As they fit the veil into your hair you felt airy and light, like at any moment you could simply float away. 

As the weight of the dress finally settled on your shoulders you were hit with reality again and swallowed down the threat of another ruined carpet. The bouquet, filled with only white roses, was set in your hands and you hoped you wouldn’t drop it when making the treacherous trip down the aisle. Between the weight of the dress, bouquet, and veil, your heels wobbled as you stood. 

The stylists had you walk around the room a little bit, but it didn’t help you to be more steady on your feet. Either way, they seemed satisfied, at least you had yet to topple over. 

It was time. You wished time would move slower.

You closed your eyes as you were set in front of the two glass doors that were dressed with curtains, so you couldn’t see outside and no one could see in. These doors would lead you to your fiance. President Snow. You said the name over and over in your mind, President Coriolanus Snow, you still couldn’t get a grasp on the situation. Your heart was beating so fast you were worried you might actually have a problem. What if you just passed out on your way down the aisle? You take a deep breath.

You hear the Capitol anthem begin to play and take more deep breaths. You jump when you feel an arm link with yours. Sigh. You forgot your father was meant to walk you down the aisle. You give him a weak smile and he returns the gesture with a much more reassuring one and a squeeze of your hand. You turn your attention back to the doors and grip the bouquet firmly with both hands. 

The usual wedding song begins to play and two Avoxes open the door for you and your father. You put on a better smile than the one you gave your father, or you hope you do. Your breathing stops and your feet refuse to move when you look down the aisle and see the President. 

Coriolanus Snow was… Is there a word? Is there a word to describe the perfect man standing in front of you? Well, he would be standing in front of you, if your feet weren’t cemented to the floor. His suit looks similar to your dress in that it’s white and has the same beads and jewels, except it’s toned down. He had a white rose set in his lapel, matching your bouquet, and his blonde, curly, breathtaking hair was neatly styled. Deep breaths. 

Your father took the first step, forcing you to go with him. The closer you got to the beautiful stranger that you kind of knew, the tighter your chest got. The wedding song ended a few steps before you got to Coriolanus Snow and you felt embarrassed at how slow you were, but nothing about this event was helping you walk. Coriolanus Snow smiled at you as you took your space in front of him and if your father wasn’t still holding onto you, you would’ve toppled over from the way it made your knees even weaker. He gave a nod to your father and my father did the same and then the wedding was to commence. 

Coriolanus Snow’s hands stayed folded in front of himself, his eyes never wavering from yours, and you desperately hoped your blush didn’t show. He only finally moved when it was time for the rings. You had to hand your bouquet off because there was no way to carry that thing with one hand. You held out your shaking hand and Coriolanus Snow steadied it with his. His hand was firm and warm, soft and gentle. Your breath hitched and suddenly you felt on the verge of tears. You cursed yourself. What was wrong with you? You really needed to reel yourself in. This was a business arrangement, that’s all. You repeated the affirmation in your head as he slipped the ring onto your finger: a delicate ring with a simple band and single white diamond. 

Your turn. You held his hand and followed instructions as he had, slipping his simple band onto his finger. You take the bouquet back in your hands. 

Then the ‘I dos’. Coriolanus Snow first, then you. You surprised yourself when your words came out clear and unwavering. 

Then the kiss. The kiss. How had you forgotten about the kiss up until this very moment? The kiss. How did people kiss at weddings? You had only been to a handful and the memories were erased as you watched him slowly lean in. You were as still as a statue until he touched your chin and moved your head for you. You closed your eyes when you felt his breath fan over your cheek and soon his lips met yours in a chaste kiss. That one, much too short, second made your skin light on fire and the butterflies in your stomach flutter in chaos. His lips were just the right amount of plump and he used just the right amount of pressure. He was just right.

You blinked a few times when he leaned back, his hand leaving your chin and instead snaking around your arm. 

“Introducing to Panem: mister and misses President Coriolanus Snow!” The guests, crowd outside the wedding, and the people of Panem who couldn’t attend, erupt into applause and cheers. 

---

The ceremony is a blur for you. You try to throw the bouquet as best you can to the crowd who scream and almost tackle each other. You and Cor- your husband cut the cake, the two of you being very respectful. You dance your first dance… Your hands entwined, your other on his shoulder and his gripping your waist, his cheek resting against your forehead. He can probably feel how hot your face is as you sway lightly together. People make toasts, which takes a considerable amount of time. Family members and friends say their piece while other guests simply vie for the attention of the President.

Finally, you can go home. Well, technically you’ll be going to the President’s home, but it is yours now too right? Anyway, it was your new home. You get into a similar car to the one that took you here, except it’s white. Your husband helps you inside before entering himself. You copy him when he waves out the window at the crowd. Then the car is very silent. You occupy yourself by running your hands over your dress, trying to get it to lay flatter. Coriolanus Snow occupies himself by staring at you, his eyes sharp. 

When you arrive at the mansion, you’re helped out of the car and up the steps for the second time of what would be many. Coriolanus Snow’s eyes continue to follow you and you wonder if regret is already festering in his gut. Maybe you did something wrong? He had yet to say a word to just you. 

Once you enter the building though, he clears his throat. “Did you enjoy it?” He pauses and then continues when you don’t answer right away. “The wedding.” He clarifies. 

“Yes. Yes, I did. It was very grand.” You smile, nodding.

He smiles back. “Good… You’ll get used to that.” 

You continue to nod a bit longer than necessary as you look into his eyes, getting lost. He lets out a hum and looks away. “You must be tired. Would you like to head to bed?” He asks, holding out his arm to you. And you take it.

To bed. You would like to go to bed, but did he ask this earnestly? Would you really be sleeping? You reminded yourself this was a business arrangement for the millionth time. But even so, would he be expecting something? At some point he would want children for sure. So soon? It’s possible. 

You resisted the urge to chew on your lip as you two made your way closer and closer to the bedroom. Then, he stopped in front of the door to the side of the one you knew led to the master bedroom. “Here is your room. Mine is there.” He points to the two intricate doors. “You may knock if you need something, but ring for an Avox first, see if they can’t help you.”

Oh.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He smiles and orders a couple Avoxes to help you get ready for bed.

“Goodnight-” You fumble with his name and he raises one of his perfect blonde brows. “What do I call you?”

“Coriolanus is fine. Coryo in public.” He answers, by the way he says it, it’s not a request. 

“Goodnight Coriolanus.” You say softly, and then he heads to his room and so do you. 

[thewertsearch]

AG: I used to really like him and always wanted to help him get stronger, so that he might stand a fucking chance to actually make it on our world.

It's honestly tragic. You probably did like him initially - but, as a consequence of your worldview, your genuine attempts to make him stronger were warped into abuse. He was never going to internalize your lessons, because the manner in which you were delivering then were far too cruel to be effective.

AG: 8ut he was just soooooooo weak and indecisive. He wouldn't change!

Due to her cruelty, Vriska completely failed to impart the lessons that she was trying to - and, of course, she blames Tavros, for refusing to be bullied into changing.

The more he 'failed' her tests, the angrier she got. The angrier she got, the more deliberate her abuse became.

Until the cruelty was the point.

AG: And when he tried to change, it was too little and too l8. Always l8. L8ey L8ey L88888888. AG: Too l8 to kiss me. AG: Too l8 to kill me. AG: He couldn't do it when I really needed him to. So when I saw he was actually serious a8out trying to kill me now of all times… AG: I just got SO AAAAAAAANGRY.

Anyone with a brain could tell you Tavros isn't a killer. He's a gentle troll, and cold-blooded murder would traumatize him.

So Vriska trapped him in a situation where not murdering her would also traumatize him, and got angry when he chose the wrong trauma. This scenario was unwinnable by design, just like their last FLARP game.

Don’t kid yourself, Vriska. You were screwing Tavros around until the end.

AG: I know our races are completely different. And I really h8 the idea of you thinking worse of me 8ecause of this. AG: 8ut I don't have anyone else to talk to a8out it!

Holy hell, Vriska’s really going through it.

The worst part is, John is the only confidant she has. She's incredibly lucky he's as easygoing as he is.

EB: i bet karkat would listen. EB: or what about terezi? she's pretty nice, isn't she? […] AG: For one thing, they would pro8a8ly just 8e pissed off at me for killing Tavros. AG: And more importantly, there's no waaaaaaaay I could tell them how I really feel a8out it.

I think I'm starting to understand why Vriska's begun to change.

So far, Vriska's life has been very simple. She killed because she had to, and she's convinced herself that it's the only correct way to live. A brutal life makes you strong, after all, and a peaceful life is a burden.

Alternian culture validates this worldview, as every troll is expected to take part in the Empire's conquests. Her nation wouldn't want her to stop killing - it'd just want her to switch targets. According to the world around her, Vriska's way of life is correct. She's never been meaningfully challenged on her beliefs.

Until today.

Today, Vriska has been confronted by a species who don't want to kill. A species seemingly populated by wimps like Tavros, who all watch ridiculous movies and believe in lame nonsense like friendship.

A species of weaklings, who weren't blessed with an upbringing as violent as hers.

And a species that succeeds anyway.

I think humanity, and John in particular, have called into question some of the most fundamental truths of Vriska's existence.

And something inside her has just said ‘w8 a second........’

[kyunzin]

☆ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑‘𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓 ☆

✰ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ✰ 𝐇. 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢 ✰ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ✰ you have a failing grade. he’s more than willing to give you a bit of extra credit but not for free of course (f!reader) ✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒/𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✰ nsfw, teacher x student, semi public sex, face slapping, age gap(36 r!22), degradation, praise, hair pulling, face fucking, cockwarming, asphyxiation ✰ 𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐍’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ✰ do not do this in real life guys this will not happen trust me. i need to sleep i'm too tired for this.

w.c ✰ 2.2k

if only you knew what you were getting into

if only you weren't so stubborn and accepted the grade

if only you knew that your teacher had a thing for sweet, innocent girls like you

you had always had a perfect record of: punctuality, attendance, and grades so it bothered you this much to have this one failing grade on your report.

never had you gotten below a 'B' so it surprised you to this this. you made sure to follow all the criteria for the task so you're perplexed as to why you failed.

you usually aced his assessments so its only natural for you to seek him out to find out the reason behind the big 'D' marked on the top of your paper and then you would find a way to boost this to at least a 'B'.

you had heard rumours before that he hardly gave out bad grades but when he did he would always allow his student to finish some tasks for extra credit.

nobody ever said what he asked them to do for him but all you know is that whenever they do their grade always gets boosted up depending on their completion of the tasks.

its said that some even go back to ask for more tasks even if their grade is perfect.

you were determined to not leave his office without changing your grade even if it meant doing unknown tasks.

in no time do you find yourself in front of his office door, with you papers ready for an explanation, knocking hastily. not even a second later do you hear him tell you to come in. you have no idea how it got to this.

one minute you're sitting across from him arguing about your grade and the next your papers are forgotten laying on top of the desk and you're sitting under his desk with his fist in your hair and his cock down your mouth.

you had no idea this was the kind of task he requested the student to do. never would the thought of sucking your professors cock, to get a better grade, have crossed your mind. let alone committing such a scandalous act in such a public setting much less.

such a studious pupil like you should feel ashamed at your actions, but the way he hoaxed you into believing this is the best thing that you could do to raise your grade leave shame as the last thing on your mind. all you want to focus on is making him feel good.

you're not even sure if this is allowed, but the second he rolled back in his chair and spread his legs beckoning you over to sit between his legs it was game over.

it would be a lie to say that you didnt find him attractive with his stoic attitude and firm build. it may have influenced your decision on agreeing to partaking in his more than improper tasks. had it have been any other professor you'd have reported them straight away.

"i didn't think it'd be this easy," he tilts your head back so that your staring up at him through you lashes with your glossy eyes just about visible to him.

there isn't much space under the desk so you're sitting on your knees, hands in your lap with your head sandwiched between his firm thighs ,that you're sure could crush you head with a slight twitch "i thought i'd have to do more to convince you"

his grip loosens for a second and he leans his head back against his chair but the second you attempt to swallow around his cock the hold is back.

"who would've thought little miss perfect would be such a perfect cock sucker" you feel his hand dragging you back off his cock with his eyes now closed.

"it cant be the first time you've done this," you'd try to shake your head but with his cock lodged down your throat as well as the minimal space all you're able to to is make a hum of disagreement as you partially look up at him.

"come on. don't lie to me, you don't want to be a bad girl do you?" the hold on your hair vanishes and moves forward to caress your face and you lean into the touch closing your eyes almost forgetting the position your in right now.

"ill have you know bad girls get punishments. you don't want that do you?" you're to lost in thought thinking about what punishment you would receive only to be snapped back into realty when you feel your cheek start to sting from where his hand connected with your face.

"don't tell me you've lost your ability to respond," his hands reach back into your hair with a loose grip "you've only been down here for a couple minutes yet you're already cockdrunk"

you have no words to respond, not that you could say them anyway, so you tilt your head down in shame trying to ignore his chuckles from above you.

"c'mon princess, no need to be embarrassed," he gently pulls your head back so he can see your eyes. "its like you were made to be the perfect sleeve for my cock"

maybe its the fact that he's the first male to show any sexual interest in you but you somewhat find some comfort in his words. at least someone is praising you even though it may not be for the most gracious thing.

he slowly starts to ease his cock out your mouth again pulling your head off ever so slowly before abruptly thrusting his cock down the back of your throat all he way to the hilt now using both hands to hold your head steady while he uses you for his pleasure.

its inevitable that you gag around his cock but he doesn't allow you any time to recuperate, instead he fucks into your mouth with vigour without so much as a care to how you're taking it.

you're struggling to breath with his erratic pace and you're starting to become light headed the longer he fucks your throat. its almost like torture for you but it seems to e the opposite for him.

the feeling of your throat jerking around him elicits deep groans from him as he chases his own pleasure using you as he pleases.

it comes to a point where your hair is dishevelled, face is a mess, tears streaking down dour face, and the lower half of your face coated in your saliva and his mess.

before you start to loose consciousness from lack of oxygen you have to frantically slap his thigh to alert him of your struggles. only then does he pull out completely letting get air but your too busy coughing and choking up all the pooled wetness that collected in your mouth.

you're only given a few seconds before his thumb in your mouth preventing you from closing it "you were doing so well s'shame you don't know how to breath properly," his free hand strokes his cock and you can see the slight glimmer from your saliva.

"next time i'll have to teach you how to control your breathing" upon hearing the prospect of a next time your distress falls to back of your mind.

your face is a few inches away from his cock and even though you just felt like you were dying with all your senses being overwhelmed with him all you want is for his cock to be back in your mouth.

you stare up up him and all you can think about is how your probably look like a hot mess while he still looks put together like that didn't just happen.

without his cock in your mouth there's no reason for your face to be in such a state but you make no move to adjust your appearance. "such a pretty cockslut you are"

an almost dumb smile rises on your face and a similar one is mimicked on his face. "if only i could keep you here forever" his thumb glides across your tongue, holding it open to the point where it starting to strain your jaw but you don't dare move.

"i'd have you warm my cock while i grade papers," your already imagining it in your head wondering if he'd let you do more than warm his cock "i bet you'd love that wouldn't you?" this might be the fastest you've nodded and it's almost enough to make you dizzy.

"of course you would. there's no need for a pretty little thing like you to be worried about exams. all you should think about is being here on my cock" you find yourself thoughtlessly agreeing with him, ignoring all the things that are wrong with what he said.

"well that can be a conversation for another day" he removes his thumb and uses his fingers to further smear the mess all over your face.

"for now how about we take care of this" he brings your attention to his neglected cock that standing proud against his stomach, leaking and dribbling down the underside of his cock.

without instruction you lay out your tongue for him not wanting to waste anymore time. "such a good girl you are. i don't even need to tell you what to do"

you close your eyes when his cock slaps down onto your tongue and focus on savouring his taste on your tongue while you still can.

he wastes no time with sliding his as much of his cock into your mouth as he can and slowly dragging it out. you would say that he's being more gentle if he didnt start driving his cock down your throat mere seconds later.

what you do know is that your taking it better than last time. you've somehow managed to learn how to open your throat so its not as hard on you.

"that's it. just keep being a good cocksleeve for me" the longer this drags on the more groans, curses, and praises leave his mouth.

your almost reaching the point where you're struggling to breath until you notice his thrusts start to loose rhythm and you feel his cock begin to pulse.

the final sign is his rushed spew of "fuckfuckfuck- that's it," now loosing speed his aim is to fit as much of his cock in your mouth as he can "just like that- fuck!"

what you don't expect is for him to push your head down and hold you there until he empties his load down your throat without warning. you can feel it failing down your throat but you're unable to swallow it properly.

only when he's sure he's emptied all his cum down your moth does he release his hold on you. "open up let me see" without question you follow his command sticking your tongue out for him to see inside your mouth, showing him the mess he created.

you had swallowed most of it so there's not much for him to see. his hand pets over your hair when he sees your mouth empty and you lean into his warmth. "you make the perfect cumdump, you took all of it without complaint"

his touch disappears but you're not bothered as much so you rest your head on your thigh peacefully content between his legs.

you hear some ruffling going on and the next time you open your eyes he's tucking back into his slacks. looking as put together as when you first walked in here.

there's a flash of a picture being taken and look up to see him setting his phone down on his desk. "it's just to keep as a memory of our fist time" you pose no argument so he doesn't say anything else. something cool touches your face and you recognise it as a wipe.

"wouldn't want you to leave hear looking like this," once you face is clean he works on mending your hair back to a presentable state "this is for me only" you can hear a slight hint of possessiveness in his tone and warms your insides.

once your appearance is decent enough he lets you up from your position and you find it a little painful to stand with your legs having gone numb from being in the cramped position for so long. he must notice your discomfort because he moves to massage your thighs to help ease the pain.

once you feel comfortable enough to walk you regretfully back away from his touch and make your way to leave his office.

your face drops when he doesn't say anything as your leaving until you hear him say "if you ever have any other questions about your grade or want more tasks feel free to come back anytime. my doors always open."

you don't respond and leave the room and if anyone sees you walk out with a stupid smile on your face they don't say anything. when you get an email about your remark your proud to see the top grade on your mark.

in class the both of you act as if nothing happened playing the perfect role of teacher and student, yet after class some have seen you follow him back into his office to 'consolidate your knowledge'.

who can blame you for going back to complete more 'tasks' the next time you hand in an assignment even though everyone knows you have a near perfect score.

© 𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐙𝐈𝐍 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭/ 𝐊.𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

✰ taglist ✰ @leilalilox @keikokashi

[gffa]

I've been a little slow on getting out new STAR WARS fic recs out, but in my defense it's because I've been reading a bunch of longer fics lately. In the spirit of "there's a special feeling to those fics that consume you and make you stay up until 3am because you can't put them down", here's a list of some of the ones I've loved or am in the middle of reading and they are haunting my thoughts and I need to inflict that on everyone else. Whether you're looking at a long upcoming trip and need some good reading material or avoiding your feelings by sinking into fic or just because you like reading, I hope you'll find something here! Including a bonus underrunning theme of throwing in a bunch of Jedi-loving fic to continue my agenda of making Jedi-centric fandom a more fun place to be. 30k+ is the minimum and this isn't all of my favorites, but it's a great list of "I have a week off to kill and I want to be in a fic coma by the end of it".

STAR WARS FIC FOR WHEN YOU NEED TO KILL ABOUT TEN HOURS WORTH OF TIME AND WANT TO HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT FICTIONAL PSYCHIC SPACE WIZARDS WHILE YOU'RE AT IT:

✦ Out with Lanterns by SkyeBean, mace & ahsoka & plo & shaak & cast, 312.5k     In another universe, Jedi Masters Plo Koon and Depa Billaba decide a Padawan could do Mace some good. It takes a while, but he eventually agrees. When he takes Ahsoka Tano as his Padawan, Mace knows that he's broken through a Shatterpoint and changed the course of a life. How, he doesn't know. ✦ Reprise by Elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon & mace & yoda & anakin & cast, time travel, 558.9k wip     Ben Kenobi dies aboard the Death Star in the year 0 BBY. He wakes up shortly thereafter in the Jedi temple in the year 41 BBY. Haunted by memories and regret, Ben must forge a new path for himself in the Jedi Order of his youth while navigating the murky waters of time travel. Crafting a better future from bitter experience is hard, but learning to heal is even harder. ✦ Take it from the top and try again by mauvera, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & padme & mace & shmi & dooku & cast, time travel, 112k wip     Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. Should be relatively easy. Right? ✦ Post Order 66 Exile AU by Livsy, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 46k     Alternatively: after a failed order 66, in which many Jedi still died but the Sith were defeated, an exiled warrior and a boy wander a distant planet and attempt to get along. ✦ Remedial Jedi Theology by MarbleGlove, obi-wan & anakin & jedi & cast, 51.3k     Let us consider the fact that the Jedi Order is a monastic religious organization based out of a temple, with five basic tenets of faith. ✦ Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi by stonefreeak, obi-wan & anakin & padme & yoda & palpatine & bail & dooku & mace & quinlan & vokara & ahsoka & cast, 124.5k wip     By an old Republic law, all members of the Jedi High Council are senators in the Galactic Senate, and can thus be voted in as chancellor. A Senator from a less prominent planet has had enough of Chancellor Palpatine's incompetence and calls for a Vote of No-Confidence and the installation of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi as Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. This one action becomes the catalyst that changes the direction of the galaxy. ✦ What We've Become by Vinyarie, vader & ahsoka & cast, 82k     Darth Vader and Ahsoka’s fight on Malachor takes a different path, and Ahsoka actually is able to save her master. Or rather, she’s able to convince him to save himself. Diverges from canon in the last few minutes of Twilight of the Apprentice and goes increasingly AU from there.

✦ time to change the road you're on by wreckageofstars, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & luke & leia & han & ghost crew & cast, time travel, 93.6k wip     The end of the Clone War is near - the fall of the Republic even nearer. Anakin Skywalker, caught up in the events that lead to the rise of the Empire and the loss of everything he holds dear, finds himself sent nearly two decades into the future. Ahsoka Tano, still coming to painful terms with the true fate of her former master, is - not exactly happy to see him. But the Force works in mysterious ways - and the future is not nearly as set in stone as they've been lead to believe. Multi-chapter AU, Rise of the Empire/Rebels-era. ✦ narrower than a razor's edge by bereft_of_frogs, obi-wan & dooku & qui-gon & anakin & sidious & cast, 30.2k     Dooku tips his hand ten years earlier because he can't stand the thought of his former apprentice's murder, and that might just be enough to save everyone...if it doesn't get them all killed first. ✦ soften every edge by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & ahsoka (& anakin), major character death, 48.1k     "Rejoice!" the galaxy says, in the wake of war and the dawning of peace. "How?" Obi-Wan asks. "No," Ahsoka says. (or: Obi-Wan & Ahsoka learn to live on.) ✦ hunting toward heartstill by blackkat, mace/cody & plo & fives & shaak & obi-wan & anakin & rex & cast, 207.2k     Plo has an idea. Mace agrees, and everything snowballs right into hell from there. (Or: Mace and Cody get married in order to give the clones citizen status. Before they can focus on that, though, they're going to have to deal with ancient Sith artifacts, evil prophets, plots to overthrow the Supreme Chancellor, lost planets, monsters warped by Sith alchemy, inconvenient , and Darth Sidious turning his eye on a potential new apprentice. Just...not in that order.) ✦ Cataclasm by dendral, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & waxer & cast, 63.1k wip     For reasons unknown to all but himself, Obi-Wan Kenobi has left the Jedi Order in the midst of the Clone Wars, taking with him a single clone. Anakin Skywalker has been unofficially tasked by the Order to find Obi-Wan and bring him home. Unfortunately for Anakin, it seems his former master is always ten steps ahead of him. ✦ Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) by Rhiw, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & feemor & bruck & jango & cast, time travel, 135.1k wip     The life of General Kenobi is cut short at the hands of his Padawan, but the sight that greets his eyes upon awakening is not that of blinding light of the Force, but the Jedi Temple he knew when he was still a youth. As he struggles to understand the path laid out before him, Obi-Wan unwittingly captures the attention of a singularly unusual Temple Guard, and that of a reluctant Qui-Gon Jinn.

✦ Knightrise by deviantaccumulation, obi-wan & ahsoka & satine & yoda & cast, 89.4k wip     There is no battle on Mustafar or in Coruscant's senate building. Instead, a small but still alive Jedi Order rises from its ashes on Mandalore. ✦ Fire and Ice by Yesac, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 111.9k     Anakin wins the duel on Mustafar, but doesn't kill Obi-Wan. Along with Padme, Obi-Wan finds himself living in a chaotic world where the man he thought he knew has become the thing he swore to destroy. Can Anakin be turned back? If so, what then? ✦ Better That a Millstone by Icarus_is_flying, obi-wan & luke & anakin & leia & cast, 86.7k     Vader discovers Luke and Obi-Wan on Tatooine when Luke is one year old and attempts to reclaim the family he threw away. Obi-Wan is less than pleased, and Luke and Leia? They have their own ideas about how their future should play out. ✦ Bloodlines by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & dooku, 35.8k     When an explosion traps them in the same doomed escape pod, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Dooku are stranded together on Tatooine. The goal is simple: cooperate long enough to survive, and not a second longer. But a shared past has a way of connecting the people we think we know—and bloodlines run deep. [or: your classic family road trip across a desert planet, except your grandpa is, you know, a Sith Lord. And now he's sort of starting to bond with your Jedi dad. And that might be an issue.] ✦ When Darkness Seems to Hide This Place by IllyanaA, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & rex & cast, 136k wip     After killing three of the Jedi Order's best and brightest, Palpatine's fight with Jedi Master Mace Windu goes shorter than expected. Afraid he's lost his chance at recruiting a new apprentice, Sidious unleashes Order 66 across the galaxy, but, per their programming, the Clone Army is not to harm Anakin Skywalker. After witnessing the most painful loss he's ever experienced and injured at the hands of his captors, Anakin is ready to die like the rest of the Jedi, though not before getting his vengeance. ✦ Precipice by shadowsong26, obi-wan & anakin & padme & luke & leia & bail & ahsoka & rex & cast, 253.6k     An AU in which Anakin Skywalker does not follow Mace Windu and the others to Palpatine’s office after they leave to arrest the Chancellor. As a result, he doesn’t get that final push over the edge, and doesn’t Fall. ✦ Averting Galactic Destruction by kj_feybarn, obi-wan & anakin & quinlan & rex & cody & fives & dogma & wolffe & plo & shaak & dooku & sidious, time travel, 44.3k     AKA The Time the Force Sent Obi-Wan Back in Time and Quinlan Vos kept him from Going Kamikaze because let’s be Honest, Being Forced to Come Back in Time Would Suck.

✦ Into the Archives by skygawker, obi-wan & anakin/padme & palpatine & cast, 104.9k wip     After hearing the legend of Darth Plagueis the Wise from Palpatine, Anakin decides that his best chance to save Padme is to break into the restricted Holocron Vault of the Temple Archives to search for information about Plagueis. Predictably, all does not go according to plan. Revenge of the Sith AU. ✦ Live To Fight Another Day by raemanzu, spica_tea, cody & rex & jesse & kix & obi-wan & anakin & fox & cast, 396.9k wip     Clones have their place in the universe, beyond the schemes of Palpatine. Events conspire to place Rex on the path of a new fate, one which will affect the future in ways not even the Jedi could foresee. Loyal to source material and characterizations. Canon-divergent. Starts between seasons 5 and 6 of TCW and explores Rex’s reaction to Fives’ dying words and subsequent events building toward Order 66. Variety of canon characters. No ships. Very Ace and Aro. Strong focus on certain friendships (Rex and Cody, Jesse and Kix, etc) with those friendships playing major roles. Thematically about how the clones navigate loss, trauma, the concept of their enslavement, their identities, etc amongst the larger active plot threads. Content warnings for war-related PTSD, trauma, combat injuries, and all around war-related angst etc in later chapters. ✦ Life and What Comes After by Ibelin, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & padme & cast, 177.2k wip     Obi-Wan dies on Jabiim. Anakin blames himself, doesn't know how to go on and yet - he does. Maybe the Force rewards that kind of thing, or maybe he just gets lucky, but when a mission lands Anakin on a vaguely familiar planet, he gets a second chance to do what he knows he should have done in the first place: save his master. (And maybe a chance to save the galaxy, too.) ✦ Knight-Errant by zinjadu, anakin & ahsoka & obi-wan & padme & rex & jedi & clones, 315.8k     AU - The Jedi Who Knew Too Much. Rex decides to stay "in pursuit" of his Commander; he jumps. Now, with backup, Ahsoka navigates the lower levels and deals with Ventress. Meanwhile, Anakin takes the Order to task, finds a little more support, and things turn out a little differently for everyone. And this is just the beginning. ✦ the massive machinery of hope by Killbothtwins, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & shmi & jedi, time travel, 150.1k     After the end of the war with the Empire, Obi-Wan wakes up in his twelve-year old body. Now all he needs to do is convince everyone he's psychic, trick his Master into taking him on before he's sent to Bandomeer, redeem a few bad guys, and try not to have a nervous breakdown. Pretty easy. It's not like the Sith are lurking on the horizon, waiting to devour the Jedi Order.

✦ The Exchange by MissLearn, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & ahsoka & padme & cast, time travel/body swap, 120k     The Daughter has a bad day and it irrevocably changes the fate of the galaxy, twice over. Or; ROTS Obi-Wan and Anakin are swapped with their younger, TPM, selves. It changes things, in both parallels. ✦ In All The World by Kjellarnen, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 144.8k wip     The story of how Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi tamed each other, from Naboo to Anakin's early days at the Temple. ✦ In Another Life by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & padme, time travel, 52.3k     Eleven years after the rise of the Empire, a favor to a friend sends Obi-Wan traveling through the multiverse. He encounters different versions of the galaxy and of himself—including one in which Anakin never turned to the dark side. Obi-Wan and this Light Anakin are forced to work together to stop the creation of a disastrous Empire weapon. But as they move through different versions of reality, the timelines become more and more twisted—and the harder it is to distinguish who they are from who they might have been. And—to find their way home. ✦ The Intruder by Hollyoakhill, obi-wan & original clone characters, 82.5k     When a vicious attack from a strange, indestructible monster traps them on a derelict star destroyer, a young clone trooper fresh from Kamino join forces with Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi to find a way to escape. ✦ Conceal Me What I Am by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin & padme & yoda & mace & palpatine & quinlan & cast, omegaverse, NSFW, 108.3k     Separatist Propaganda is turning the Republic against the Jedi Order and the Senate sees no choice but to join in a political alliance to fight dissent on a unified front.An alliance is proposed through an arranged marriage,between a Jedi Knight and Republic Senator. Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi are chosen as representatives of the political union by Darth Sidious, meant to bring ruin to the marriage and the public's support of the Jedi,for Obi-Wan Kenobi is not the Beta he claims. But even Sidious does not know of the secret Anakin Skywalker keeps, that he is not the Alpha the galaxy believes him to be. ✦ Equinox by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 95.9k     During the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan and Anakin crash on a remote planet and take shelter in the ruins of a grand estate only to find they are not alone.

✦ Invictus by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 40.3k     "He is the balance, the other half, the completion to Skywalker’s soul, a perfect dyad in the force. But while Kenobi is a simple answer, the force also sees the difficulty of the pair coming together in balance. The foundations of the galaxy they exist in pull at them, threatening to intervene in their unity. But this is also a simple problem, for the force is far greater than the foundations of a single galaxy, for it is the foundation of all. So the force enacts its will, to bridge the pair over a span of moments, of years, of eternities, and Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi will fall in love, have fallen in love, and are falling in love." ✦ Neutron star collision by thedunesea, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 121.2k wip     In the aftermath of Order 66, Anakin Skywalker's miraculous survival after his confrontation with the new Sith Apprentice Darth Vader ignites a sparkle of hope in the remaining Jedi, in the fledgling rebellion and, above all, in his former Master, who thought he had lost everything to darkness. But darkness is generous, and it is patient. ✦ Lex Talionis by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & dooku & rex & cast, NSFW, 187.1k     The ancient Galactic Republic is dying slowly—an ugly death of corruption, sprawl, and decay—with the sin of slavery hanging over its every triumph. The beleaguered Jedi Knights are too few to adequately patrol and police the entire Republic, and are faced with complacency and greed at every turn. Born into a crumbling and stagnant galaxy, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker are faced with the greatest challenge of all: themselves. Obi-Wan likes rules and control. When the galaxy around him stops playing by the rules, what is a Jedi to do? Anakin needs rules and restraint. When the galaxy around him conspires to set him loose, what is his Master to do? Falling slowly or falling fast, falling through lust or falling through wrath—it all leads to delusion and moral decay. What can be born from the ashes? ✦ Atlas of Our Ruin by Ripki, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, time travel, 230.8k     Both the past and the future casts long shadows. Obi-Wan and Anakin learn that the hard way, when a mysterious holocron flings them backwards and forwards in time, forcing them to confront painful truths. But the time-travel is only the beginning… ✦ Seed by bell (belldreams), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 44k     When Anakin falls prey to a lethal poison, Obi-Wan has no choice but use all his resources to heal him-- no matter how reluctant he is in administering the antidote.

✦ wicked thing by imaginarykat, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, nsfw, sith!obi-wan, 124.2k wip     There are rumours of yet another Sith Lord hiding among the Separatists. The Council sends Anakin to investigate. Anakin has a bad feeling about this. or, the story of how Anakin exists in a perpetual state of intense embarrassment, Obi-Wan is enjoying it a little too much, and everything is, generally speaking, a gigantic mess. ✦ Rulebreaker/Wildheart by chapstickaddict, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & luke & leia & barriss & cast, NSFW, 230k     Darth Vader, the strong arm of the Sith, held loyal to his Order since they took he and his mother from slavery in the deserts of Tatooine. Until he became convinced they killed his wife. He abandoned his Order and disappeared in the chaos of the Clone Wars, presumed dead by all sides. That young Skywalker is known around town as a widower and homesteader; a Nabooian who emigrated to avoid the trade blockade; a father of overly-energetic twins and warding a Togruta war orphan; a decent mechanic if your farm equipment or maintenance droid is acting up. Anakin is a paranoid, over-protective hot mess doing his best to raise his weird pack the way Padmé would have wanted. How the hell is he supposed to do that when his kids and not-apprentice make him haul a half-dead Jedi Master home like a lost pet? ✦ more than a candle by jenmishe, obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, 50.3k     "The dark is generous and it is patient and it always wins – but in the heart of its strength lies its weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back. Love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars." Or, a few thousands of words of how Anakin, Obi Wan, and Padmé realize many things, which include, most notably, how they feel about each other and how to handle said feelings. Oh, and in the meantime, they deal with a megalomaniac Sith Lord. ✦ Anamorphosis by avocadomoon, obi-wan/padme & anakin & mace & corde & qui-gon & cast, 33.5k     noun, plural an·a·mor·pho·ses [an-uh-mawr-fuh-seez, -mawr-foh-seez]. A distorted or monstrous projection or representation of an image on a plane or curved surface, which, when viewed from a certain point, or as reflected from a curved mirror or through a polyhedron, appears regular and in proportion; a deformation of an image.