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weasleyreidstyles · 11 months ago

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Serendipity

chapter six

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+ content, light smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering, mentions of curses and dark magic

series masterlist; previous part; next part

You both silently stared at eachother, surrounded by the knickknacks in the Room of Requirement.

"You look like you're thinking awfully hard." you say in a teasing whisper.

"I'm trying to figure out if that really just happened, or if the weed has fogged up my brain." he replies in with a huffed laugh. You laugh and step a little closer to him so that you're chest to chest and you stare up into his eyes as you smile. Gods, he was so fucking tall.

I can assure you, it was very real.

He smirked.

So you wouldn't mind if I did it again?

He kissed you with fervour. You felt insatiable; you felt like an addict, longing for more of his touch.

Mattheo. He groaned when you mentally whined his name.

You sound so pretty, sweetheart.

His hands trailed from your hips to your shoulders, until they cradled your face, bringing you even closer so he could deepen the kiss. Then, almost as if he didn't know where to settle them, his hands trailed back down, past your hips to the curve of your bum, cupping the underside of your thighs.

"Jump for me." he mumbles as his grip tightens. You do as he says and he brings your face to his level, causing your arms to briefly squeeze at his shoulders before you loosen them and bring your palms to cradle his face, angling your's to a better position. He groans, moving his lips to the long column of your neck; you tilt your head to the side to give him more access.

You drive me mad, sweetheart. Gods I don't think I'll ever be able to stop.

Then don't. You whimper as his teeth graze a particularly sensitive spot on your neck.

"Tell me you want this." he mumbles, licking and sucking at your sensitive skin.

"I want this- Gods I want you so badly." your reply is delayed as you lose yourself in the euphoric feeling of him. Suddenly you're spun around and dropped, rather unceremoniously, on the plush velvet cushions of the chaise lounge that Mattheo was utilising before you came in; he was towering over you, leaning on his strong forearms that were positioned on either side of your head.

He presses forward and kisses your lips softly, gently trailing them down your chin, to your neck, his body moving to hover over your's so that his hands could toy with the fabric of your blue and bronze tie. Silently asking if he can remove the obstacle in the form of your school uniform and you happily oblige, shoving away at your robe sleeves as he meticulously undoes the knot of your tie. You repeat the same motion with the emerald and silver tie donning his collar and fight to remove the buttons from the holes of his shirt which leaves an open view of his stunningly sculpted abdominals that ripple against supple, tanned skin.

Patience, sweetheart. He says, his voice echoing in every crevice of your mind. Smooth and silky like honey.

He kisses you again before his mouth travels south, his fingers deftly removing your arms from the sleeves of your shirt once he got the buttons undone.

"Gods. You're a criminal for hiding all of this from me, sweetheart." He mumbles into the skin of your collarbone, onyx eyes staring up at you under his long lashes, desire deepening steadily.

You furrow your brows. "What?"

He sucks a deep mark into your skin before soothing it with his tongue.

"Your body is divine, Meadow." he groans as he kisses along the strap of your bra, one hand travelling behind your back and lifting your body up, with your help, so that he can unclip it, with unsurprisingly accurate precision.

Mattheo moves even further down your body, hands beginning to massage the sensitive skin of your thighs as he spreads them apart, flipping the fabric of your skirt up. He's pressing kisses at your naval now, following a path from the bottom of your belly button to the edge of your panties. He huffs a laugh at the fact that you had coincidentally decided on wearing a lacy dark green pair that day.

Piss off. Your voice is a low grumble in the forefront of his mind, which only makes him laugh more. But he sobers quickly, pressing a kiss to where your clit sits under the cover of your panties. He teases you like that for a long minute: presses kisses to and massages the sensitive area, watching you with hawk-like eyes as you squirm under his hold.

Your whines and moans spurred him on, so he continued until you were practically begging for him to do something...anything more.

"What's the magic word, sweetheart?" he teases, his voice a low, taunting rasp.

"Please." you mumble with a whimper. Matt-"

That's seemingly all it takes for his resolve to crack and he practically tears the underwear from your body, throwing up somewhere behind him. Immediately, he buries his face in your core, using his tongue to lap up the wetness that had begun to pool there, thumb brushing sensually against your clit.

Gods. You're so wet. 'S this all for me? You can't see his expression from where he's devouring you whole, but you can feel and hear the smirk in his voice.

"Yes!" He was so good. So effortlessly good that you didn't know if you'd exclaimed out loud or in your head. It was so overwhelmingly good.

He lapped at your centre like you were the first meal he'd had in days, and when you felt a familiar tightening in your core, he seemed to become more feral, transcending from a man starved, to something entirely more alluring.

When he used two of his fingers to scissor you open while his thumb nimbly rubbed fast circles on your clit, you came with a shout, curling over his body, and yanking at the mop of unruly black curls atop his head. He groaned and you keened from the overstimulation as he carried on, speed increasing in fervour as he kissed, sucked and licked at your most sensitive parts.

"Matt- Théo, please! T-too much! Ah!" you were reduced to a babbling and whining mess as he took his fill from you, hands tracing soothing circles against your thighs as he brought you through your climax.

When he finally relented, you were panting from exhaustion, eyes glazed with lust and skin shiny with sweat. When you looked at him, you all but melted into a puddle of desire: his mouth and chin was slick with your cum and he was slowly sucking the fingers he'd had inside you, not thirty seconds ago. Gods he was so fucking attractive.

You weren't even ashamed to be openly oggling him as he used his discarded wand to summon a couple flannels to clean you both up.

"You taste heavenly, sweetheart." he mumbles as he presses another kiss to your lips. You moan when you taste yourself on his tongue. You want more. You want him.

"No. The first time I fuck you will be in a bed, sweetheart. Not some old chaise lounge in the middle of a room that anyone can walk into." he says with a smirk as you narrow your eyes at him, but your face only holds a sort of satiated amusement.

"Get out of my head, you dick." you let out an airy giggle as he flicks your forehead lightly.

It all feels so...domestic. Completely flipping what you thought you knew about him. But you suppose you'd learnt more about him in the weeks you'd spent in his presence than you had in the entire almost six years you'd been at Hogwarts.

You'd never seen this side of him before, however.

"If you tell a soul, I'll have to do unspeakable things to you." he says, smirking as he unapologetically rifles through your recent thoughts, but you find that you really don't care.

"What sort of unspeakable things?" you ask, a teasing lilt to your tone.

He only chuckles, that wicked smirk gracing his features.

"One day, you'll find out, but not today. We need to talk." The serious tone of his voice washes away any of the warm, bubbly feelings you had garnered at his response to a possible repeat of whatever had just transpired. Sobering you up from your lust-driven state immediately.

~∞~

As you both go through the motions of sorting yourselves out properly, you're relieved that the atmosphere, at the very least, isn't an awkward one. Once you're in your uniform once again, creases smoothed out, tie neat and pristine, arms folded across your chest, Mattheo guides you through the meandering trails that littered the Room of Requirement, until you come across something akin to a library – towering bookshelves and a cosy looking sofa, complete with an old mahogany coffee table.

"Sit down, Princess." he says softly, and you do as he says, watching as he walks to the nearest bookshelf and reaches for a book on a particularly high shelf, titled A History of Curses and Dark Magic, Volume Three.

"What are we going to read eachother post-coital stories now too?" you scoff with an unsatisfied scowl on your face.

"Not quite." he chuckles at your put-out expression. "I've spent the last week researching different curses and forms of detecting dark magic." He sits beside you, thigh brushing against your's. "And I think I've found out what's happening to you."

Curiously you take the book from his hand. It was old, heavy. The pages were beginning to brown and tear at the edges, the spine cracked insurmountably.

"What did you find out?" you ask, turning to look at him, to find him staring at the column of your neck, where he'd left a mirage of love bites and hickeys. You smirk as he mumbles a basic healing charm, watching the way his face sours when the marks magically fade away.

"Can you show me what happened when Dumbledore gave you the ring you told me about?" he questions, bumping his thigh to your's. "Open your your mind to that memory, like I taught you."

You do as he says, closing your eyes and allowing the vivid memory to take ahold in your mind, your own voice a distorted echo as you feel Mattheo's presence permeating the memory.

"Interesting." Dumbledore says as he pulls an old signet ring from his deep robe pocket, holding it out for you to take. You watch imperceptibly as Mattheo narrows his eyes on the ring, his ring.

"Can you tell me what you feel when you touch this, please?" Dumbledore's voice echoes in your mind. You do as he says and take the ring into your hands. Twisting it around your fingers, allowing your magic to swirl around it before it burns your fingers. You drop it in an instant. That same cold, tingling feeling you felt when Blaise rotated the necklace washed over you right afterward.

"It's cursed?" you asked, looking up at the Headmaster for confirmation, who is staring at you with knowing, inquisitive eyes.

"Something like that, yes." he says, his decaying hand twitches in response. You watch as the ring seems to vibrate in your lap, something that was amiss to you in the original moment.

You suck in a breathe when you're both forced from the memory. Mattheo is looking between you and the book curiously.

"The way your magic surrounded the ring. It's beautiful." he says. "It's one of seven, you know. I have one and the other five are in the manor."

The signet ring on his hand, that you never seemed to notice before, glints in the dim light of the room, the insignia is identical to the one in Dumbledore's possession.

"Seven rings?"

"No, seven heirlooms. Two rings and five other things that I've never been allowed to touch. They're all quite ugly actually, never had any use for them."

"I don't think the ring is ugly." you say, taking ahold of his hand to bring the ring closer to your face. "It's weird. I felt the energy in the one Dumbledore gave me the second he walked into the room, as well as in the memory itself. This one feels....lifeless."

"The book says it has something to do with different magical cores." Mattheo explains and you nod in understanding.

"You can do wandless magic just as well as you can do non-verbal magic." a statement, not a question. as if he already knows the answer and just wants to hear proof. "But wandless magic takes even the greatest witch or wizard years to master." he continues. "I've seen your development. It took you mere months to master that skill."

"Stalking me now, Riddle?" you tease, but when he doesn't entertain your jokes, your smirk drops. "What are you insinuating?"

"Where do you draw your magic from when you perform wandless magic?"

It's a bit of a taboo in the wizarding world. If you told your friends about the source of power you use, you'd surely be looked at like you were insane, specifically by Hermione who would've surely come across this sort of thing in her mountains of extracurricular reading. But you had grown frustrated when the only progress you'd made upon teaching yourself the throes of wandless magic, was lifting a quill an inch into the air for less than a second. The magic you utilised instead is highly unstable when used incorrectly, and it's borderline illegal in the minds of few people, namely those in the Ministry who specialised in Magical Cores. It teetered on the edge of unassailable power – something most people wouldn't dare mess with.

"I draw it from the air." you mumble, turning away from him, ashamed. "I know it's unconventional. I tried using my own magical core, but it never seemed to work. I did it on accident the first time, but I was successful. Then when I tried again the conventional way, it didn't work. I don't abuse the power, only borrow."

He tilts his head as realisation seems to seep into his features.

"Show me?" he asks, squeezes softly your hand with his large one that you're still holding, unconsciously.

You nod, hesitantly shifting your gaze to the book in his lap. You focus on drawing from the energy surrounding the old hardback, watching as the swirls of your magic, invisible to the boy beside you, intertwined with with potent magic supplied by the Room's core. You felt a rush of power surge through you as the book begin to levitate from Mattheo's lap, only to fly into your awaiting palm. You inhaled sharply at the prickly feeling the magic left coarsing through your veins.

"Incredible." he mumbles as he stares between his lap and the book that you now had in your grip. "And you did that using the magic in the air, not your own?"

You nod. "It always leaves a minute lasting effect afterwards, sort of like a consequence of using another magical source. There has to be a balance. If I do it too much I begin to feel a little dizzy, but I've never fainted like I did in the Wing last week."

"I was right." he mutters to himself, nodding his head, his lips quirking. You raise a brow at him.

"Care to share with the rest of the class?" you question, sarcastically.

"You're a syphon, love."

You sit there for a moment, silently contemplating his words. A syphon. A rare ability among few witches over the centuries; even rarer than a seer.

"How'd you come to that conclusion?"

"I wasn't sure until you showed me how you draw power from the air around you."

When your face drops to a confused frown he draws your body into his, lifting you so that you're sat on his lap, facing him.

"Listen. This isn't a bad thing. It's far from a bad thing. Trust me, sweetheart." he reassures. It's obvious to you that he knows something that you don't.

"What aren't you telling me?" you mumble, hands reaching to mess with the curls at the nape of his neck.

"When its safe for you to know, I'll tell you I promise. But for the sake of saving my friends-"

"And you." you interrupt, but he only shakes his head.

"For the sake of my friends, I can't tell you until the time is right."

"And when will that be? After you ghost me for another week? A month?" you sigh. "Is that what you're going to do when we walk out of here?"

He sighs deeply, his hold on your hips tightening ever so slightly as he brings you closer to him.

"That was a mistake on my part, sweetheart. You make me feel things that I was certain I wouldn't ever feel. I'm truely sorry."

He seals the apology with a long, breathtaking kiss, which momentarily leaves you unable to speak.

~∞~

Some hours later, you're sat beside Hermione at the Gryffindor table for dinner, Harry sat opposite you both. Ron was further down the table with Lavender Brown practically in his lap, the former of your friends sending poorly hidden glares his way.

"How's befriending Professor Slughorn going, Harold?" you ask, taking a sip out of your bronze goblet. After Dumbledore's visit last week, you sought out your three friends and demanded answers regarding Slughorn and Harry. But much like you, Dumbledore wasn't being as straightforward with the Chosen One as he thought he would be, especially after the miscommunication of last year, which inadvertently got Harry's Godfather killed.

"Not brilliantly." Harry mumbled as he stabbed his fork into his chicken.

Hermione scoffed.

"He's completely understating." she said. "It's going abysmally."

"Well, what methods have you used to get the information?" you ask, incredulously. How difficult was it to get information out of a man who spent his free time in the pub drinking away his sobriety?

Harry stammered as he tried to think of a reply and you balked at him.

"You didn't just outright ask him did you? Harry are you an idiot?" He gaped at you as Hermione snickered behind her goblet.

"Dumbledore showed me the half-memory that Slughorn gave him. There's a vital piece of information missing." he cringed as your face morphed into further disbelief. He knew that you knew he'd done the complete opposite of the logical thing to do.

"Don't tell me you tried to play out the memory with him, when Voldemort's own son could have been eavesdropping from fifty feet away?" you snapped, feeling entirely not guilty for dragging Mattheo's name into it. What does that say about the person you've began transitioning into?

"I'm not an idiot." he ignored your deadpan look, shaking his head he rambled on. "I sought him out after our last potions lesson, when everyone had left."

He stopped abruptly, turning to Hermione who, in turn, swivelled to face you.

"Speaking of Riddle," she started. "You weren't in the library earlier when I went to find you. Actually, I haven't seen you since after Ancient Runes after lunch."

"You're name wasn't on the map." Harry accused, eyes narrowing behind his thin wire glasses. "Riddle's wasn't either."

"Why were you in the Room of Requirement with him?" Hermione asked gently, as if she were trying to coax a misbehaving child to fess up information.

Internally, you were beginning to panic; the lies and excuses you'd been sporting for Mattheo's sake fizzling out by the seams. Your heart was irratic and you would've confessed there and then, had it not been for the calming presence of Mattheo's magical core in your mind.

What's wrong sweetheart, you look like you're going to pop a blood vessell.

Charming, Matt truly. You snark and he chuckles in your mind before his presence washes a feeling of seriousness over you.

What's wrong? He's insistent.

They're suspicious of us. Of why we were in the Come and Go room together.

How did they know about that?

That isn't important. You weren't stupid enough to give away one of Harry's best assets. What do I tell them without having to lie. I can't bare to lie again.

He's silent for a moment and you internally curse him as Harry and Hermione seem to be berating you, but you hear none of it, focusing on the pulsing of Mattheo's magic as he takes his sweet time to respond.

Tell them what you were doing. Say that you were annoyed by my avoidance; that it interrupted your schedule; that I was taking advantage of your time.

Harry was in the middle of a they-are-all-Death-Eaters spiel when you interrupted him to finally answer after what had only been a few moments.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Harry. I've been tutoring him since the start of the year. Which you both already knew." you send a look towards Hermione, who shrinks away. "He's been avoiding me all week – Rowena knows why – so I made Theo tell me where he was."

You stifled a laugh when Theo dropped his fork under the deathly glare that Mattheo sent his way.

Behave. You mentally slap him.

He smirked wickedly at you.

"He was probably doing his father's bidding." Harry spat.

"Maybe. But he needs a stellar Ancient Runes grade if he wants Theo to keep him on the Quidditch team. I'm doing Teddy a favour, nothing more." you reassure, and while it was only a half-lie, the guilt ate away at you all the same.

The pair seemed to sigh in tandem before Hermione turned to you, apology written all over her face. The guilt seemed to intensify.

"Just–" she paused, glancing over at the Slytherin table momentarily. "Just be careful will you? I don't want you to get hurt."

"I am being careful Mione, don't worry about me." you smile, but your pretty sure that, and judging by her unconvincing glance shared with your friend, she doesn't believe a word you say.

And after what happened in the Room that could grant you whatever you wished for, you weren't so believing in your resolve either.

~∞~

wasn't actually planning on writing smut this early but it kind of just happened lol this ones quite a long one, but i had a lot of things to add for the plot

sidenote; ive finally started reading acotar after its been on my tiktok fyp for time and low-key i see why i dnf'd the first time i tried reading it😭 but im speeding through it actually - im on like chapter 20 i think

taglist:

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed

#mattheo x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheoxreader #harry potter #hermione x reader #serendipity series

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jul-27 · 1 month ago

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#tan #bronzed #glowing #tanned #golden tones #golden #light tones #light aesthetic #radiant #warmth

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thegatesofsilverandbone · 1 month ago

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The move-in day buzzed with a blend of excitement and nerves as Ethan lugged his final box into his new dorm room. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he pushed open the door and stepped inside. He expected an empty room, but someone was already there—an athletic, wiry guy hunched over a pile of posters, grinning widely.

"Arjun, dude!" the guy exclaimed, hopping up with enthusiasm and giving Ethan a firm clap on the shoulder. "You finally made it!"

"Uh… actually, my name’s Ethan," he started, but something about the correction felt… off. It was like a word on the tip of his tongue, but it slipped further away the more he thought about it. He shrugged it off. Maybe he just had one of those faces. Or, maybe… had he told his roommate his name was Arjun as a joke?

"Right… Arjun," his roommate said, grinning as if sharing an inside joke. "I’m Wes. Roomie for the year!" He ran a hand through his wavy blonde hair, blue eyes shining with genuine warmth. Ethan—or, was it Arjun?—felt an odd pang of familiarity with Wes, as though they’d shared summers at the lake and late-night burrito runs.

Ethan shook his head to clear the fog and went about unpacking. Each time Wes would chat or call him over to look at something, he’d call him "Arjun," and each time, something about Ethan seemed to shift. The first time Wes asked, "Hey, Arjun, do you need a hand?" Ethan's skin prickled with an odd sensation. He didn’t notice it right away, but later, when he looked down, he realized his skin looked a little warmer in tone, more tanned than usual.

A slight tickle ran along his jaw as he unpacked, but he ignored it until he saw himself in the mirror hanging over his bed. He did a double-take. Light stubble—something he normally only needed to shave every couple of days—was peppering his jawline, and his usually pale complexion had a faintly bronzed hue to it. Weird, he thought, scratching at the whiskers, but they felt almost… right.

The more Wes called him "Arjun," the more that nickname sank in, like a melody he’d known all along. Later, as they went to grab pizza and Wes casually slung an arm around him, a sense of comfort rolled over him. This was his best friend, right? Wes had been with him through thick and thin since… Ethan hesitated. Since high school? Or… some other memory just out of reach.

They returned to the dorm and collapsed on the couch, laughing over shared stories—stories that, as Ethan recounted them, grew increasingly hazy and strange. In one moment, he could almost remember his childhood, but in the next, his memories blended with unfamiliar snippets of sunny afternoons, playing cricket with a group of friends back home, laughing and shouting in a language that felt native yet distant.

By the time Wes leaned back, nudging him and saying, "Gonna be a great year, huh, Arjun?" Ethan felt a warm confidence growing within him, a subtle buzz in his muscles. His shoulders felt broader, his chest a little thicker. He tugged at the hem of his shirt as it began to feel tighter around his frame. A sense of pride welled up in him, especially when Wes looked over with admiration.

After a long day, the two decided to settle in for the night. Ethan—or Arjun, as he now felt more and more like—caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he brushed his teeth. His facial hair had thickened, covering his jaw in a more defined, dark stubble that highlighted his increasingly angular jawline. The golden blond hair he’d grown up with now had a richer, darker hue, hints of chestnut streaking through his curls. His arms had thickened too, adorned with a dusting of hair that matched the deeper, tawny tone of his skin.

When he glanced down, the words on his shirt looked unfamiliar. They were emblazoned in bright Hindi letters, and his heart beat a little faster with excitement. He slipped it off, catching sight of his reflection again. His torso, lean and athletic, was now dusted with a faint covering of dark hair, and his once-slight physique had taken on a more powerful, built look—still wiry, but clearly honed by hours in the gym.

“Arjun,” Wes’s voice called from the other side of the bathroom door. "Come on, man, hurry up, we gotta get some sleep. I’ve got plans for us tomorrow."

Arjun felt a thrill at the idea of tomorrow with Wes. They’d planned the year together, hadn’t they? As he washed up, memories of the two of them meeting over the summer at orientation flooded his mind: the instant connection, the shared laughs, and how they’d already been inseparable. They were more than just roommates, weren't they? The idea swirled through his mind as he joined Wes back in their room, a smile tugging at his lips.

Laying in bed, he replayed their conversations from the day, his heart beating a little faster. His mind drifted to Wes’s athletic frame, the way his blonde hair caught the light, his easygoing, dopey laugh. He was lucky—so incredibly lucky—to room with his best friend, his boyfriend. Why had he been so nervous earlier?

Arjun drifted off to sleep, his mind full of the memories they’d make this year, two souls growing closer than ever. And as he slept, the final remnants of Ethan faded, replaced by Arjun’s hopes for a year filled with laughter, love, and countless moments with Wes, his boyfriend.

#transformation #ai art

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all-things-fic · 11 months ago

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Sugar // HS

AN: This is old, but given how ol’ Harry has popped up outta nowhere, I couldn’t resist. Really sorry if the read more doesn’t work properly, I’m on mobile.

Sending love x

***

Anguilla was a special place for you both.

It had its way of drawing you back to it time and time again. Whenever you wanted that little bit of winter sun, to ease the blues that may have been drawn from you with the grey skies of England.

Anguilla had been the first real place that you and Harry had chosen to holiday. It felt like your first real couple holiday. Where you shed all worry and apprehension about being seen with him in a setting that was absolutely nothing but romantic.

Anguilla had been the place where you’d had one of your nastiest fights too. The kind that had you sat in the backseat of a taxi ride home, close together in presence but the furthest apart in mind. The threat of packing your luggage and getting the next flight home fizzling through the silent energy.

And it was because of that - the highs and lows - it was only right to also christen this place with the crown of being your first born’s babymoon.

Thinking back on fond memories as you lay along the four poster daybed, was how you’d come to find yourself most days on this holiday. Looking out on your private beach and watching your husband of just shy of two years fight his way around a paddleboard or a surfboard, whichever has taken his fancy that morning.

The Caribbean seas were known to be calm, but not this part of the island. Harry knew about that one better than you, and seeing him so active sometimes made you feel like you were being far too lazy, using the pregnancy as an excuse.

Truth was, you had been struggling. Heartburn was crazy and you’d started to swell in your hands and ankles from water retention. While Harry swore to you it was just the heat. You hadn’t forgotten how he’d said that it was probably just the flight that had caused it.

You loved that about him though. That he tried to always make you feel better. Regardless of how neglectful you felt toward him, he wouldn’t hear you utter such words. You were carrying his baby, you were nothing but beautiful to him. You knew he thought that from the way he marvelled in you every single day. Both with and without the spoken word.

It was like he was mesmerised. You were a bit of a forbidden fruit to him, especially when it came to intimacy. Being touched in your current shape made you cringe. You’d spent a lot of the past week covered up, under the four poster daybed you currently found yourself upon and felt like some lewd voyeur as you stared out into the ocean, under the guise of reading, and watched your husband leave the ocean.

Harry was every inch golden, regardless of the length of time he spent covered up by a wetsuit. His face, which had been slightly sunburnt, now turning that mixture of bronze and dirty tan where his melanocytes cells had increased unevenly in the sun, resulting in darker and lighter patches of skin.

He was every inch handsome and strong and he was aging far better than you (much to your delight and your resentment). He still smiled like he was the same twenty-six year old you had first set your eyes on, in that dingy London bar while on a night out with friends that you were so adamant you didn’t want to attend.

But boy, you were glad you had.

Both back then and so vehemently still to this day.

You looked on, watching as he stood his surfboard in the sand. Abruptly pushing it down and working on untying the board from around his ankle. A force that you knew would be heavy. Had he always been this manly or were you just having a moment?

He was drenched. Wet through. You could tell regardless of how far away he was and you found yourself wondering how salty his skin would taste against your lips. Left leg wrapping tightly over your right at the ankle to quell the feeling of emptiness between your thighs.

Eyes squinting slightly behind your sunglasses, you fought the urge you so badly felt behind your twitching hands, to lift them from your eyes and push them back into your hair. For some strange reason you didn’t want him to know you were affected by him like this.

Harry knew however. Of course he knew. He was in the same position. It was why he was taking his time. Jutting his chin up towards the cloudless blue skies and pulling slowly at the zip of his wetsuit, feeling the too tight fabric become less taut against his damp skin.

Pruney fingers pulled at the Neoprene material, hands peeling it away and ears enjoying the sound it made while doing so. You noticed he’d dropped his head with a smile now, wet tendrils falling down and obscuring your view of the way his face dipped and concaved so majestically when he was pleased with himself.

That annoyed you. You wanted to see that face.

Sinking lower into the bed, you pulled your book higher to hide your pout and felt dirtier now that nothing but your eyes were visible over the top of the book.

He seemed totally unphased but you were sure he knew you were watching him as he finished removing the top half from his body and revealing himself to you. Golden and smattered with more ink than ever. Ink now upon his skin just for you, mixed nicely in between the memories and the mistakes from before.

Seeing his feet digging into the sand, you felt a jolt of excitement course through you. Hand lifting to rest gently against your stomach, you attributed the flutter to your child. “Is that Daddy making his way back to us?”

Harry’s feet burned under the white sand as he found himself walking from the water's edge and closer to the daybed. He squinted, bringing his hand up to his forehead to try and get a better look at you as he approached.

You took great delight in the way his ring caught the sun from his action. Lips pulling into a triumphant grin at the thought and knowledge of how he was yours.

Smug didn’t even begin to cover it.

As he got closer, his eyes surveyed the scene that was in front of him. His wife laid out, relaxed, on a four poster bed. Chilled drinks and fruits off to the side ready for both of you to leisurely enjoy.

You hiding behind the book humoured him to no end. He loved it when you thought you were being clever. Just not clever enough, eh? He’d probably say it to you as well before the day was out.

His presence at the bottom of the bed was felt long before he physically arrived. You refused to look up at him, however he noticed the rounded apples of your cheeks as the pages of your book hid your smiling mouth from him.

Hands tying the loose sleeves of his wetsuit around his waist, your peripheral vision allowed you to take in the way his hands moved efficiently to tie a secure knot into the sleeves.

“Took your time,” you started. “Thought I was gonna have to start playing the Baywatch theme tune just to get you to move a little bit quicker.”

His lips quirked at that, him taking a deep breath through his nose as he felt the corners of his eyes wrinkle with joy. Laughter lines they called them, right? He knew they had only deepened from all the years he had spent laughing with you so far.

“Books tha’ interesting ‘s it,” he sarcastically acknowledged, enjoying the confirmation that you weren’t reading at all. “What chapter you on now?”

Your non-verbal response was to turn the book around for him to catch a glimpse of the pages. He cackled when the text came into focus. You hadn't moved from the page you’d opened up to that morning as he slipped off the bed, and let the ocean before his lover for a few hours.

“Stellar effort, darling. I admire your sell,” he clenched his fist and shook it once to emphasise his words. Your sell being the way you’d made it look as if you had moved further along with your novel of choice for holiday reading. “Gonna take you in the boardroom wi’me next time wi’a poker face like tha’.”

“Take me in the boardroom,” you repeated his words back to him, much slower than his delivery.

From your tone, he tilted his head up, using both of his hands to brush back his wet hair from falling around his face. He blew out a puff of air, his lips looking so much bigger and more inviting when his mouth made that shape.

“Jesus woman, give a man chance to breathe.”

His deep tone forced you to push your face into the book, trying to fight the urge to squeal like a silly little school girl. The chuckle that filled your ears was bliss. It was one of his dirty sniggers, the kind that he would do by keeping his mouth closed so that the sound left more of his nose in a breathy sound but the vibration of his throat was prominent.

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, instead letting your hands fall away from the book as it remained in place from your horizontal state.

The dip to the bed was the next thing you felt, Harry placing his knees close to bottom left of the bed and pausing. It was calming silent apart from the sound of the crashing waves, and you found yourself peeking out from underneath the pages.

The sight you saw was far too soft, if a little bit intriguing. Harry was frowning lightly as he untied the knots of the tassels that held the netted white curtains framing the wooden posts of the bed.

“Unless,” he started, his voice concentrated. “You’re letting me taste you, then I’m gladly suffocating.”

Peeking out of the side of the book, you noticed how he hadn’t taken his eyes away from the way his nimble fingers were unloosening the fabric. You saw the way his facial expression changed when he triumphantly and gently tugged on the curtain to pull it across one side of the daybed.

“Don’t come near me, you’re wet-”

“‘S usually nice that way. The wetter the better, so to say.”

Usually you would’ve whacked him with the book by now, or threw a pillow at his head but all you found yourself doing was laying there and listening. Feeling a heat fill your face as your imagination was moving two steps ahead of Harry’s each time. Or so you thought, anyway.

Walking on his knees along the mattress, Harry made his way across the bed to the opposite set of net curtains.

“Why’re you shutting the curtains, I don’t want no funny business-“

Harry paused his movement, looking up at you under his drying hair thanks to the thick heat enveloping you both.

“Sure about that, darling,” he asked, fingers still against the knot. When you didn’t respond he continued to untie and pull the curtain across the opposite side of the best. “Thought so,” he mumbled.

Staying silent sometimes worked to your advantage, part of you slightly intrigued as to how he was going to play it. The book that covered your face, was gently lifted away by Harry. A soft whine leaving your lips.

“You’re gonna make me lose my place,” you made your high-pitched complaint known, only to be greeted by an amused chuckle.

“‘S the book more interesting than me is it,” he said slowly closing the item and pushing it away. “Nah. Now the fruit I can understand,” he started, feeling the way you looked up at him as he peered at the tray of healthy goodness and rubbed his hands together. “What have we got ‘ere? Cherries, strawberries, watermelon- your favourite.”

Before you could stop yourself, you reached for his hand that hung above you.

He was your favourite.

Your soft tug to his fingers had him dropping his gaze, his fingers curling around yours. His hands had changed to you lately, looking thicker and veiner. You could never bring yourself to say it out loud though, not to him directly anyway. You were sure he’d just laugh, if he didn’t already know that is.

You were positive he probably did. The amount of times you’d taken to playing with his fingers, or gently running the tips of your fingers across the dips of his knuckles and the veins on the backs of his hands. Those hands helped to make your baby, they’d help to take care of said baby in a number of months time too.

“Want summat?” He asked, eyes peering down at you behind his slowly drying tendrils. “Wha’ can I do fo’yer?”

Looking down at you, he took in the way you eyes blinked up at him.

“‘M already on m’knees for yer, wha’ more could you want? Want me closer?” He smirked, lowering himself down to lie on his side next to you thanks to your wordless nod. Head resting on his hand as he leant on his elbow, he reached up to scoop your hair out of your face and lift your lips to his. Voice lowering as his lips puckered against yours, he added, “Could do one better I s’pose? Put m’head between your legs.”

Shaky breath left your lips as he hummed. “Gonna let me do that fo’you.”

“‘S been ages since you last did,” he continued, hands smoothing down your back in circle motions, pulling you closer to his body so that you were almost flush against him.

“It’s not pretty down there,” you grimaced thinking of how your last shaving job had been harder to achieve thanks to your growing bump.

“‘S that not up to me to decide,” he asked, deeply. “Left a bit f’me to play with, yeah? ‘Ope so.”

“God Harry, stop being such a little boy,” you tried to hide your embarrassment, skin flamed for how open he was regardless of his boyish tendencies.

His snigger into the skin of your shoulder warmed you further, “‘m definitely not a little boy when I’m wanking m’self off, all over your hair.”

His comment lingered in the sexually charged air. Lips sucking gently and soft breathing barely heard over the crashing waves. Being close to him was what you craved. The sound of him coaxing you to be a little daring.

“Messy like one.”

“Messy like one,” he repeated, face amused as he looked down at you. “‘S better messy. When you can hear it, eh. All down my chin and rubbed into your thighs. Means we’ve enjoyed ourselves, don’t it.”

You found yourself opening your legs slightly at the sound of his voice and Harry took the opportunity to press his damp, wetsuit covered, thigh into the gap.

“Can feel ‘ow warm yer are for me-“ he groaned. “Let me in. Gi‘me a kiss.”

The deep inhale through his nose as he took your lips with his caused you to clench at his defined chest. He pulled off, a slight frown to his brow, “Christ nearly took a chunk of me wi’ya then.”

“Not close enough-“

“Let me in then, let me have a feast,” he hummed. “‘On your back f’me.”

Rolling to your back was easy when you had a man that weighed almost thirteen stone to guide you. Was easier when he caressed you with kisses that made you melt into him.

“You look bloody wonderful, d’ya know tha’,” he mumbled against your lips. His hand wandered as he spoke, fingers stilling at your rounded hips and dipping into your skin.

“You’re just trying to butter me up so you can get your end away,” you spoke in monotone, with your eyes closed.

“‘S it working?”

You giggled at his muffled question, his head pressed into the fabric of your beach coverup as your stomach shook lightly from your delight and laughter.

“Shift this out the way,” he gruffly spoke, pushing at the sheer item that covered your stomach. “Wan’ your belly.”

Your belly has become his kryptonite. The way it had grown and began to round out nicely. Popping into the bump that you had found yourself longing for the minute you found out that you were pregnant.

But it was also the part that you were self-conscious of. The dusting of stretch marks starting to appear, even if only light and small, among the ones that you’d experienced from when you were filling out as a teenager.

For Harry though, this was life. You were growing his son or daughter - the gender you didn’t know and weren’t going to find out either. Much to your dismay and his delight.

“One of the only surprises left in life,” he said, over a conversation around messy kisses and even messier tears from your panic of how your usual planning self wasn’t going to get a look in. “We’ve got this covered, Mommy. We don’t need to know. We’re sorted. Let us have that moment, that excitement for the entire nine months. The guessing and the little arguments over your cravings meaning that we’re definitely having a boy, or the way your shape is changing meaning we’re definitely having a girl.”

And that was a moment that you thought back on fondly now, cause he’d been right on his thinking. Those moments had been some of your best and most intimate conversations when he liked to purposely go against your guess and say the complete opposite. He loved seeing the fire in your eyes flare up as you both got friendly and competitive with each other. It was healthy to be this way and ultimately exciting and fun for you both.

You were in your thoughts so much that you almost jumped when you felt Harry’s hand get close to your belly button.

“Sensitive,” you softly whined, hearing his hushed apology against your lower body.

“‘M sorry, forgot,” he softly apologised, nose nudging gently at the underside of your bump. You felt him going lower with no desire to stop him, you intimate area letting you know that you wanted this far more than you were willing to admit.

“Had some watermelon for brunch? He mumbled into the sensitive skin of your thigh. “Saved me some?”

You whimpered in response, feeling the way the backs of his fingers rubbed gently up your clothed intimate area. His eyes were mesmerised by the turquoise blue of your bikini bottoms in contrast to your hair and softly tanned skin.

“Colour really pops, doll,” he mumbled more so to himself, watching the way your hands covered your face, elbows pointing to the sky at his words. “Love it when you show me how pink you are. Show me.”

“Stop,” you choked, lifting for him as you felt his face drop into your lower stomach and nosy along the hem of your bikini bottoms. His teeth drew up the material, pulling it away from your skin with a soft tension.

You wanted anything but him to stop.

“Can smell you from ‘ere, gagging for me,” his voice regardless of how it was muffled around fabric was the clearest thing in your mind. “Gonna give me some sugar.”

“You know I will,” you softly mewled, hands finding his at the waistband of your bikini bottoms.

“Do I?” He felt his lips tilt upward, eyes flicking upwards to see the charged expression on your face. “Help me get ‘em off you then.”

It didn’t take much from him before you started pushing the fabric down as he pulled. Hips rose of their own accord off the bed beneath you, as you let him shift and guide the bottoms down your legs, before placing them neatly to the other side of the bed.

He was close to you within a flash, his head back against your thigh this time and enjoying the way your plush skin felt pressed to his face.

“Put me where you want me,” he mumbled, hand blindly reaching for yours and placing it into his chestnut strands of hair that were beginning to form a waxy film from the sea salt.

You were shocked at how you didn’t hesitate in guiding him to your center. His groan of satisfaction caused you to scratch at his scalp as he turned his head slightly to the side against the crevice of your inner thigh, “My girl knows what she wants and what kind of man would I be ‘f I didn’t give it to her.”

Any kind of response you had fell flat into a hum, as you rolled your lips into your mouth and tried to keep as quiet as possible given the fact that you were in public.

You knew it wouldn’t last long, but you’d give it a good go.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic

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exilethegame · 1 year ago

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Do you have a list of the ROs and like a description of them :( can't find it

I have one floating about somewhere, but here's an up-to-date one! :)

Vethna Mevnrael (they/them) Appearance: 5’9, skin the color of bronze with long wavy hair that’s only a few shades darker than their skin. Their eyes are a greyed-out blue-green and glow in the darkness due to magic. They wear a deep v-neck black gown with golden embroidery, an outrageous amount of rings and jewelry, and their signature wine-red lipstick. Background: Vethna hails from Vygrand-- otherwise known as the sworn rival land of your home country. Where you have been raised to resent most, if not all magic, they have been raised to thrive on it. You don't know much about them-- just that they're on the run from someone, something, powerful, and you're the only one who can protect them. That, and they have a whole lot of gold... almost as much as they have secrets.

Nikke Ivante (he/him) Appearance: 6’0, pale green skin and covered in iridescent scales. Purple bags sit under his pale green eyes, which, like all mythosi, glow in the darkness. Wears smudged black kohl across his eyes. His hair is long, half shaved, and braided, mostly black with streaks of white. His tongue is forked and his sharp fangs often protrude from out past his lips. His arms are covered in tattoos of snakes winding downwards, and on his neck sit geometric tattoos. Background: Nikke has been sent to kill you or kidnap you-- you're not entirely sure which it is, and you don't intend to find out. He's crude and sarcastic and overall a brute. He doesn't seem to take his own life seriously, nonetheless yours, and you have no doubt he's going to capture you or die trying. Hell-- maybe he'll just kill you both while he's at it... you know, for fun.

Jost Ivante (she/her) (Not romanceable in demo yet) Appearance: 6’0 with pale green skin and iridescent scales. Her features are sharp and she has multiple piercings, the most notable being her bridge piercing and snake-bites. She has tattoos down her arms and on her neck in geometric patterns. Her hair is waist-length and slicked back and filled with braids and tokens, and just like her brother, is streaked with white. While she wears dark paint over her eyes, it’s done in a manner much neater than Nikke’s. Background: Jost is Nikke's identical twin sister-- and, if possible, she's twice as mean and just as rude. She's more ruthless than her brother, but she doesn't quite have the fighting power to back up her venom-laced threats and taunts. Nonetheless, she fights dirty, and if you want to beat her, you're going to have to be smart.

Amilia Von Clamile (she/her) Appearance: 5’3 with snow white skin and blood red hair that’s poorly cut and uneven, coming to her chin on one shoulder and sitting well past her collarbone on the other. Her eyes are green and her face is covered in freckles. A deep scar juts into her lip on the right side of her face and runs down her jaw and neck. Background: Amilia's a fae-- the very kind of mythosi you've been raised to fear and have spent most of your life killing. She's all smiles and nerves, but you see something else in her eyes, sometimes. Something cold. Something calculative. Everyone seems keen to turn a blind eye to her, but you know a liar when you see one... don't you?

Syfyn Javall (she/her) Appearance: 5’11 with warm toned skin that’s often burnt red, leaving splotchy tans along her body. Her eyes are a steely grey, hair blonde and cut to barely brush against her shoulders. She tries to often wear it up despite this, resulting in most of the hair falling out messily. She's covered in scars with feathers in her hair, and her pupils are slits. Her teeth are all mostly sharp. Background: Syfyn Javall, The Brazen Griffin, Second-in-Command to the Plaithian Army. She used to work beneath you once-- used to fight beside you and honor you both as a comrade and friend. You grew up together within the military. When you had nobody, you had each other. But then you betrayed her-- or maybe she betrayed you. You don't know who started what, but you do know that the blood is on both of your hands now.

Sabir Du Vaelas (he/him) Appearance: 6’1 with dark, cool toned skin, black eyes, and long black hair kept in locs. He wears expensive robes that are a deep teal and is covered head to toe in expensive silver jewelry, most of which is covered in snake symbolism. Sabir's ears are pierced in several areas, and he tends to wear silver eyeliner and highlight. Background: Sabir, otherwise known as The Silven Viper, Eye of Plaithus, used to be your charge. He's a politician-- one of the better ones, if such a thing exists. Your past together was volatile-- perhaps you were lovers, or friends, or enemies. Either way, he saved your life when you otherwise would've been put to death by the state, and you owe him thanks for that much.

Freedom (gender selectable) Appearance: 6′0 with pallid, paper-white skin and bronze eyes that appear to almost be filled with a shimmering liquid. Their hair is waist-length and black with an iridescent sheen to it, long black claws bordering on talons on their hands. They wear long, tight fitting black robes. Background: You hear its voice sometimes, when it's quiet and you're alone. You try to tune it out. You try to ignore it. It forces you to remember things. To feel things. It's within you, wiggling and writhing, waiting for the right moment to attack. At times it feels predatory. At others, its presence is comforting-- protective and doting. It'll become whatever you want it to be. It'll become whatever you need it to be.

#answered #ro intro #vethna #nikke #jost #amilia #sabir #syfyn #freedom #I have silently shrunken Amilia through the years don't worry about it...

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sweetercalypso · 2 years ago

Text

Tan Lines (Abby Anderson)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Abby comes home to find you sunbathing and fucks you in the yard

Notes: 18+ only, minors dni!! Fem reader, slight praise, pet names (pretty, babe), fingering, mentions of Abby’s strap – literally no plot in sight. This was written for every body type in mind because every body is a bikini body!!

When Abby gets home, she’s scorched.

She’s late – she knows because the sky is already tinged orange, painting the landscape in modest sepia tones. The mid-July sun burns well into the evening now, leaving the air warm and sappy and full of life.

Abby’s hair sticks to her neck and small wisps fall into her face, and she’s relieved to be home after a long day out in the sun.

Despite the heat and the cruel humidity, this is Abby’s favorite time of year. Abby loves the summer sun because she knows the sun brings heat, and heat brings bikinis.

She closes the front door behind her with a huff, noticing that the air in the house isn’t much cooler than the air outside. She kicks her shoes off and yanks her ponytail out, unraveling her tight braid while she looks around the house. Usually, you’re waiting by the door when Abby gets home. But today, you’re nowhere to be seen.

“Babe?” Abby calls out for you, peeking her head into the kitchen and wandering down the hall in search of you. She finds the back door open, the golden light from outside leading her into the secluded backyard.

There, she finds you laying on a frayed beach towel, soaking in the remnants of the day’s dwindling light. Your feet kick idly behind you while your head rests on your forearms, facing away from your girlfriend’s presence.

Abby swipes at the sweat beading across her forehead, and even though she’s exhausted by the heat, her energy is renewed by the thought of what you’ve been doing all day under the bright summer sun.

She stalks over to you silently, eyes roaming your exposed skin and the barely-there bikini that does little to cover your backside. The straps that are supposed to hold your top in place are now limp at your sides, the planes of your back entirely on display for Abby’s enjoyment.

She hums out a little sound of appreciation, making her presence known. You shift to face her, a small smile crinkling your relaxed features.

“You’re home,” you murmur, stretching your arms out in front of you and rolling your neck to relieve the idle stiffness in your muscles.

From the looks of it, you’ve been outside all day. Little items are scattered around you – books and sunscreen and anything else you could think to carry out into the yard. Your skin is warm and bronze, and Abby’s eyes are drawn to the crisscrossing lines across your back that show where a summer’s worth of golden tan has been interrupted by the material of your swimsuit.

“Did y’have a good day?” she asks, raking a hand through her crimped hair, trying to brush out the subtle waves left behind from her tight updo.

“Mmhm,” you answer affirmatively, reaching a hand out to motion her closer.

She shuffles towards you before crouching at your side, knees landing on the edge of the shabby towel that you’d spread out on the lawn.

“It was so hot today,” you say, admiring the pink of Abby’s flushed face. The apples of her cheeks are ruddy and dark, and you remind yourself to take care of her developing sunburn when the two of you head inside.

She nods in agreement, letting her fingers trail over your warm skin now that you’re within reach. Her calloused hands trace the curve of your spine, sending a burst of soothing energy through your core. The combination of Abby’s touch and the warmth of the evening air lulls you into a relaxed state, causing your eyes to flutter until they’re shut.

“Your top’s undone,” she comments, entranced by the sheen of sunscreen glistening against your skin.

“I don’t want tan lines.”

She scoffs under her breath, running her fingers over the faint stripes left behind from previous days spent outside. “It’s a little late for that.”

Her fingers slips under the waistband of your bottoms, pressing softly into the warm skin there until you snap back into focus, looking back over your shoulder at her.

“Maybe these should come off too then,” she suggests in a slow voice. “You’ll get tan lines.”

A short nod is enough of an answer for the blonde, and her fingers work to untie the strings at each hip. The garment slips free and Abby pulls the loose bottoms from around your waist.

Her hands come up to grip the globes of your ass, fingers digging into the flesh like she doesn’t know her own strength.

“So pretty,” she murmurs, swinging one knee over your form to straddle you from behind.

With quick fingers, she slips the untied top from beneath you, throwing it somewhere in the yard without much care.

Your face falls into the crook of your arm as Abby’s hands return to your backside. Her hips shift against your ass, hinting at the friction you’re desperate to receive.

“Abby,” you mutter into your arm. “Need you – need your fingers.”

Her digits press gently into the dip of your lower back, massaging the muscles there with lazy pressure. “Need my fingers here? Is that what y’wanted?”

Your response is something indecipherable, a combination of pleasure and frustration fueling your muddled thoughts.

Abby seems to understand anyway and she shuffles back to rest her weight on the backs of your legs, giving her just enough room to part your thighs.

“Thought about you all day,” she says, ghosting her fingers over your center. “Laid out in the yard, looking so sweet for me – wanted me to come home and find you like this, huh?”

Your hips buck in impatience and Abby quickly settles you back in your place. “Sit still, pretty. Wanna fuck my girl nice and slow.”

Two thick digits delve into your core, parting your slick walls with a delicious pressure.

“Worked so hard today,” she says mainly to herself, scissoring her fingers to gently stretch your cunt. “Now it’s my turn to relax.”

Breathy moans fill the air, reverberating off the wooden fence that encloses your yard. Abby’s speed picks up, her fingers pumping into your cunt faster than your languid mind can keep up with.

She slides in and out in quick motions, drawing slick down her knuckles and onto your inner thighs.

“That’s it, pretty. Show me how good it feels.”

Abby thrusts her fingers into you a couple more times before changing course and sliding them out entirely. Before you can complain, she grabs you by the waist, pulling your ass into the air and pushing back into you.

The new angle allows Abby to move deeper into your cunt, curling her fingers up and pressing into that spongey spot at the top of your walls. With her free hand, she reaches around the front of you to rub messy circles over your clit.

“Pretty pussy’s sucking my fingers in,” she says. “Sounds fuckin’ beautiful.”

With her fingers working at a steady pace, her hips begin to follow suit, shifting slightly in stride with her movements. Her dense thighs smack into the backs of your legs, reminding you of her familiarity with this position.

“Takin’ me so good,” she grunts, becoming more aggressive with her movements. “Gonna take you inside and fuck you properly after this. Stretch you around my cock until you’re crying.”

Her promise fuels the tightness that had been building in your core, and with a few more strokes of her fingers, the pressure snaps and brings you to a finish.

The hand rubbing at your clit moves to grab your waist to hold you up, keeping you from sinking onto the hard ground beneath you. Abby slows her fingers inside of you, coaxing out the end of your orgasm before she’s pulling her fingers out and slipping them into her mouth.

She moans as the taste of sunscreen and sweat and you settles on her tongue.

Before you have time to catch your breath, she’s on her feet and pulling you up to stand on shaky legs.

“C’mon, let’s go inside — we’re not finished yet.”

#calypso writes #Abby Anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fluff #abby x reader #the last of us #tlou abby #tlou #abby anderson drabble #tlou x reader

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inthehouseofhufflepuff · 2 years ago

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loveshotzz · 1 year ago

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I hope I’m not late for request this🥹:

[inside one muses’s office] with AIRWIY!Steve? And reader give him his first blowjob?🥹

So this one got a little out of hand, but 🥺 I love him and he deserves the best head in the world if you ask me. Thank you for your request! 💕 I hope you like it!

older!steve x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ age gap, new established relationship, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, smidge of size kink, smidge of daddy kink, finger sucking, swallowing.

wc: 2.8k

A/N: This request is apart of my completed series All I Really Want Is You, but can be read as a stand alone. For those that read the series this takes place shortly after chapter ten.

It was supposed to be a nice lunch in his office on your day off. You weren’t supposed to be giving him elevator eyes from the other side of his desk while he complained to you about his day. But no one had warned you about what middle of the work day Steve looked like. Not quite as dishievied as the end of it when he’s checking his mail, but not put together like when you see him leave his house through your bedroom window when the sun is barely touching the sky. More importantly, you didn’t know about the glasses.

The thin silver frames sit perched on the end of his nose with hair that looks like he just started running his hands through it. The slicked back style it began the day in still sticks to some of his auburn locks while the rest develop a crazed mind of their own. He had popped open the top two buttons of his crisp white dress shirt, revealing a matching tank top underneath and the beginnings of the soft dark thatch of hair that covers his chest. His sleeves are rolled up to the middle of his forearms, and the tan he still has left over from the last few days of summer makes his skin look bronzed. The scruff that lines his jaw is thicker today than he’d usually allow too, but that’s because he’d forgotten his razor in your bathroom the last night he slept over.

God, he was handsome.

“Wrapping up at the end of a season, especially one where we didn’t make it to the finals has been nightmare, honey.” He rubs his eyes from under his glasses leaning back in his seat.

He was stressed too.

The leather squeaks with his movements, and your gaze finds its way to his newly revealed waist. His black dress slacks are pulled tight over his thighs, and the silver buckle of his belt gleams when it hits the sun spilling in from his office windows.

“Just one more week till your vacation,” you remind him gently, your fingers playing with the hem of the sundress and you catch the way his eyes track your movements, wetting his lips.

“One more week till I get to have you all for myself.” He counters, making you giddy at the thought of your first trip together to New York, “enough about my day though. Let me get a better look at this pretty dress you’re wearin’, is it new?”

There’s heat flickering behind his gaze when he gestures for you to stand in front of him, something a little mischievous in his grin that makes your skin buzz.

“Yeah, I got it at Lost Girls after work the other day. I’d been looking at it for a while through the window, thought I’d do something nice for myself.” Your nerves make you ramble as you get up, but Steve thinks it’s cute. He thinks everything you do is cute.

“It’s really, really nice baby,” he praises when you get in front of him letting his eyes roam all the ways it hugs your curves just right, like it was made custom for your body and his slacks get a little tighter. “You look so beautiful, give me a little twirl.”

Your face burns like it’s the middle of June at his request, and the golden emerald of his eyes get darker from behind his lenses. The air around you both turns electric when your already short hem flutters out around the tops of your thighs, spinning around twice for him, just enough to give a glimpse of the red lace that hugs your ass cheeks underneath.

“You gonna be wearing this tonight when I pick you up for dinner?” He asks with big hands reaching out for you, begging you to get closer.

“I didn’t know we had plans tonight.” You giggle letting your wedges carry you to the space he made for you between his legs. The cedar and spice of his cologne envelopes your senses when you get close enough for his hands to find the back of your thighs pulling you to him with a squeal.

The whites of his teeth show when he looks up at you with a smile that steals your breath away, squeezing at the soft dough under his palms.

“What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t show you off any chance I got?” The pads of his thumbs swipe against the hem of the lace that meets at the curve of your ass, butterflies in your stomach because you’ll never get used to hearing him say that.

“Yeah, I’ll wear it, handsome.” You agree, making him hum in approval.

He lets you run your fingers through the soft silk of his hair, silver strands showing themselves to you in a mess of dirty blonde and auburn as you scratch along his scalp. Steve groans at the feeling and it goes straight to your core, his long fingers tightening around the plush of your thighs, leaning his forehead against the soft pudge of your tummy with his eyes closed.

“Fuck,” He mumbles against you, the wheels on his chair roll him closer as his hands grip higher, warm palms finding the dough of your buttcheeks when you scratch at the nape of his neck.

You watch the way his shoulders slump, the muscles in his body finally starting to unwind from your touch. You want to unwind him more.

“Steve?” His name comes out in just above a whisper, your nerves threatening to get the best of you.

“Hmm?” He hums in response, too lost in the feeling of your nails dragging over his scalp.

“Let me take care of you.” Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you tug a little at his roots asking him to meet your gaze.

“Honey,” It doesn’t sound like a protest, and it doesn’t feel like it either when his nails dig half crescent moons into the backs of your thighs, staring up at you with wide eyes.

You remember the empty hallways on your way up. Everyone was gone for the season, including Richard.

“You’ve been working so hard, you deserve it.” You cup the side of his face, your body buzzing when he leans into your touch. “Will you let me?”

“I - “ Wetting his lips, Steve glances at the door before bringing his attention back to you, “yeah, okay, shit, yeah.”

You hold his heavy lidded gaze with a confidence he’s never seen before as you drop to your knees, the nails that were just in his hair dragging along his thighs and it sends him reeling. He doesn’t know how long you’ve thought about this.

The carpet is rough on your freshly lotioned skin, the bottom hem of your dress pulling up over the tops of your thighs. Leaning back in his chair, the new angle gives him the perfect view down the deep heart shaped neckline of your dress. The necklace he got you on your first date shimmers just above the swell of your breasts and it makes his cock press into the metal of his zipper. He wishes he could take a picture of you right now.

“You want this baby?” His voice comes out gruff when he asks, the gold inside his eyes darkening to something almost black as he runs a hand through his hair.

“You have no idea, just how bad I want it … daddy.” Looking up at him through thick lashes, you punch the air out of his lungs in a low exhale through his nose when you don’t hesitate to start working at the silver of his belt buckle.

“Fuck, you can’t say - ” He huffs out exasperated, contemplating taking a half day so he can spend the rest of it in bed with you.

Leather squeaks underneath him when he lifts his hips to help you tug his pants down. The hard outline of him strains against his briefs, mouth watering when you notice the darkened spot where he’s already leaking into the black cotton. More confident now, your palms find purchase on the tops of his hairy thighs, leaning forward you let heat of your breath make him twitch, earning a low groan when your lips trail like a ghost behind it.

“Can’t say what?” Your tone drips innocence, your bottom lip tugging down against the covered head of his cock before lifting your gaze with a mischievous smirk, relishing in the sharp inhale he takes through his teeth.

“I think you’re gonna kill me.” He almost laughs, running a hand over his face. Pushing up his glasses in the process he settles his heavy gaze on you with a lazy grin as they slide down the slope of his nose.

You hum, glossed lips twisting at the corners as you hook your fingers in the elastic of his briefs, giving them a gentle pull to signal what you want. Steve gives it to you without any hesitation, the full weight of his cock slapping against his stomach making your thighs press at the thought of being stretched by it. The pink tip swipes against the hem of his button up that sits rucked up at his belly button and you don’t think you’ll ever be immune to just how big and pretty he is.

“That wouldn’t be very nice of me huh?” you tease looking up at him with a pout.

“Nuh-uh” He mumbles, face crumpling a little watching your fingers try to wrap around the base of him, the tips of them just barely meeting on the other side. The grip he has on the armrest of his chair, stretches his skin so tight the whites of his knuckles start to show.

“And, I wanna be nice,” he feels like velvet in your hand, the pad of your thumb tracing the large vein that runs up the side, before swiping over his sensitive head. You collect what he’s already given to you with enough pressure to make his toes curl inside his wingtip dress shoes.

Leaning forward, you slowly let your tongue run the length of him, feeling the way he twitches against the muscle before paying extra attention to what’s weeping for you, swirling your tongue around the tip. Salty and little sweet from the way he drinks his coffee in the morning, you hum pleased when he hits your taste buds.

“God, honey.”

You don’t give him any warning when you wrap your lips around him, a greedy tongue flattening along the underside. Gagging when he hits the back of your throat, you still try to open up just a little more, your hand keeping up with what you can’t reach.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve’s jaw goes slack, eyelids growing too heavy to keep open at the heat of your mouth enveloping him. His head pushes further into his chair while he fights to keep his hands from flying to the back of yours.

Scooting closer, you feel him spread his legs even more, and your hand that’s not wrapped around the base of his cock, slides down his thigh. The blunt ends of your nails dragging through the rough curls that cover it.

“That’s - that’s so - shit, you’re making me feel so fucking good.” He grunts, finally working up enough strength to pry his eyes open to get a look at what he’s dreamed of a million times alone in the shower. “Always so good to me baby.”

You moan at his words, the praise drowning out the dull throb in your knees from the hard floor, and your throat opens up just a little more, the tip of your nose a ghost against his thick happy trail.

“You like that?” The tone he uses is deep, like someone laced the honey it’s always had for you with cinnamon. “You like when I tell you how good you are?”

Hollowing out your cheeks, you suck even harder, the wetness between your legs only getting worse when he lets out a strangled groan. You slowly work up the length of his cock with tight lips, before releasing him with a loud ‘pop’. For a second Steve thinks he might add more to the shining mess that covers your face, spit still connecting your chin to his sensitive head.

You drag your teeth over your swollen bottom lip, his dark eyes tracking the movement when it pops back into place, twitching in your hand that hasn’t stopped pumping him. He thinks he likes this better than your gloss. You nod in response with a smile and he can’t believe is a little shy.

Leaning forward, he wipes your chin with his thumb before tracing where your teeth just were with the pad of it. His eyes darken even more when your mouth opens, strawberry lips wrapping around him with no hesitation.

Yeah, you’re going to kill him.

“Fuck, look at you,” He pushes down on your tongue, watching the way your thighs press under your dress sucking on the digit with the same force. “I’m so lucky.”

You moan around him, the motions of your wrist getting faster, and the urge to taste him becomes unbearable. With a gentle scrap of your teeth you let go of his thumb, pushing up on your knees to beg for a kiss. The wheels of his chair clink against the hinges when he eagerly accepts your request, one of his hands finding the back of your neck pulling you closer to lick into your mouth without a second thought.

Your teeth scrape together, tongues battling for dominance while the stubble that lines his jaw threatens to rub your skin raw, but you don’t care. The inside of your thighs start to get sticky and the large vein that runs up the side of his cock pulses against your palm with the need for your attention. It’s the only thing that can get you to pull away from his lips that won’t stop devouring yours.

It’s with new determination that you take him back into the heat of his mouth, doing your best to take him deeper down your throat than before. He moans your name loud enough that you’re sure anyone in this part of the building would hear if they were actually in their offices. He lets a big hand find the back of your head this time, while both of yours find the tops of his thighs.

Your cheeks hollow again while your tongue wraps around as much as you can get, more spit, more slick to bob in rhythm with the thrusts of his hips. The tip of him catches at the back of your throat, and the way it squeezes his head when your reflex hits makes his toes curl, fingers burying themselves in your hair to keep you there.

“Oh, that’s - that’s it- take the whole thing. Shit. You’re gonna make me cum baby. Just like that, don’t stop, don’t stop. Good girl, good girl.”

Each snap of his hips gets as desperate as his babbling, like he’s completely forgotten he’s still at work. One of your hands leaves his thigh to cup his balls that have been screaming for attention since the moment you walked into his office in that dress. Rolling them in your palm is the final touch that makes his vision go white behind his eyes, body tensing and face going slack just like his jaw.

“Baby, baby, baby.”

Twitching, he spills hot down the back of your throat and you try to swallow as much of it as you can before it dribbles down your chin, dripping onto your chest. His full weight falls back onto his chair, the wheels it’s on moving just enough to have him slide half soft from the warm velvet of your mouth. He tasted even better than you’d imagined, promising yourself you were going to do this again to him after dinner.

Chest heaving, a breathy laugh escapes him, and the hand that was buried in your hair runs through his before his eyes open up back to their normal golden brown. His cheeks flush pink when he gets a look at the mess he made of you, and it only deepens when you collect the spend that found its way to the swell of your breasts with the pads of your fingers before sucking them clean.

“I think I’m gonna take a half day.”

#my writing #all i really want is you #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington oneshot #older!steve harrington #older!steve

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pitchsidestories · 5 months ago

Text

lunch II Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1181

a/n: hi, it's based off this request here. We're not completely happy with it, but hope you'll still enjoy it. <3

warnings: smut ahead, mdni, 18 + content

In front of her eyes, laid a stunning coastal landscape, but the beauty of it couldn’t satisfy the hunger Ona felt inside.

“I’m so hungry.”, the defender mumbled. She was certain that the sound of the crushing waves against the shore made it impossible to hear what the brunette just said. But the young woman was wrong of it.

Her brother who came to a halt next to her, raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“You haven’t even touched your food.”, he reminded her.

“Not like that.”, Ona replied smirking.

“Oh my god, Oni!”, the older man spat his coffee out, he wasn’t expecting such a reply from his little sister.

Before she had to explain herself in front of him, the defender thankfully received a phone call from her girlfriends.”

“Sorry, I need to take it.”, Ona bit her lip in an apologetic manner.

“Go ahead.”, her brother waved it off.

“Thanks.”, the football player got down to the beach, looking for a stone to sit on, when she chose to videocall her lovers back.

The young woman was excited to watch the sunset, the sun made her skin appear golden, her heart sank from longing once she saw Lucy and you on the screen of her phone. The sight of you both almost pained her physical.

“Finally.”, you sighed relieved while you looked at your girlfriend who wasn’t in the squad for the last away game of the season, your hair was still wet from the shower.

“Hey, girls.”, Ona greeted you both with a warm smile on her lips.

“Hi, you already look like vacation herself.”, Lucy noticed the tanned skin of the defender and the many adorable freckles around her nose.

For a moment the Catalan player turned around so you got to see the sea in its full glory.

“Oh my god, we’re jealous, that view behind you looks stunning.”, you replied.

“I can’t wait until you come and join me.”, Ona answered, her voice full of yearning.

“We can’t wait either, pretty girl.”, the older defender assured the younger one.

“Who are you calling pretty girl here, huh?”, she teased her.

“Both.”, Lucy said in an honest tone.

“Just hurry up and come here, I’m starving.”, the Spanish woman’s eyes darkened with want and desire.

It didn’t get unnoticed by you.

“We’ll be there as quick as possible we can’t let you starve.”, you promised her.

“Good.”, Ona nodded, visibly satisfied with that answer.

“See you soon, love.”, the older defender muttered her goodbye.

“I can’t wait.”, the Spanish woman admitted passionately.

“We’ll arrive at lunch time.”, you added who couldn’t wait that much longer either.

The following day Ona was waiting in the hotel lobby. It was Lucy who reached her first and gave her an heartfelt kiss: ”Hi, Ona.”

“Hi, my loves.”, she chirmed, giving each of you a kiss on the mouth.

“You look great.”, you complimented her.

“So do you.”, the young defender winked at the two of you, eager to guide you to somewhere you all could be alone without any other people watching.

“What’s for lunch?”, the older English woman asked curiously.

“Just you wait.”, Ona grinned mysteriously while leading Lucy and you to the room you’d share in the upcoming days. You could already taste the anticipation. Just for the food or for something else? Likely it was both.

When you arrived, you turned your head around in confusion:” I don’t see any food here?”

Wordlessly, Ona opened the door out to the balcony. There was a hot tub peacefully bubbling just for the three of you.

Glasses of wine stood on a table right beside it, small plates with olives and nuts right next to them. You could not help but notice that there were small bouquets of flowers on the balcony as well.

“Maybe I prepared a different kind of lunch.“, Ona smiled innocently.

Lucy immediately understood the hint. She licked her lips impatiently: “I like that.“

“Oh, me too.“, you smirked.

“You can leave your travel clothes on the chair.“, Ona suggested, pointing at an empty chair inside the hotel room.

“Someone’s really impatient.“, Lucy laughed while pulling her shirt over her head anyway.

You bit back a comment about how was being impatient now.

“In my defense, I had to wait a long time for you two.“, Ona shrugged with nonchalance.

You laughed as you slipped into your bikini: “Don’t worry, we won’t let you wait any longer.“

“Finally…“, Ona smirked once you had all changed and were ready to finally slip into the pool.

You enjoyed the warm water as it touched your skin.

Ona handed you and Lucy the glasses of white wine.

“Cheers.“, she said, holding out her glass so you could all clink your glasses together.

You took a sip of your wine, it was sweet and delicious. Ona had created the perfect relaxing experience for the end of your season.

You were about to compliment her on that when you suddenly felt a hand grip the inside of your thigh.

Lucy smirked at you, tightening her grip and you immediately knew that it would leave a bruise.

You sucked in a breath as Lucys hand started wandering, sneaking into your bikini bottoms.

Simultaneously, Ona untied your top, pressing hungry kisses down your neck and your breasts.

You felt yourself lose focus. You even had to put your wine glass down, too scared that you would drop it while your girlfriends spoiled you.

Maybe they were impatient to get this started but you were impatient to finish this. You thrusted your hips towards Lucy, signalling her to move faster and deeper.

And then finally, relief floated your body. You moaned as quietly as possibly, suddenly remembering that you were still at a hotel.

Ona kissed you excitedly. You knew that watching you come turned her on, you could tell from the way she was shifting impatiently.

You were eager to share this feeling of ecstasy with her, so you slipped onto her lap and ran your hands along her tanned abs. Her freckles were even more pronounce from the time she had spend in the sun. You felt almost hypnotized by the beauty of them.

But before you could do more than press a few kisses along her jawline, Lucy pulled you both towards her: “Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable.“

You had to agree. The pool was nice and warm but not spacious enough for what you three were planning to do.

Ona and you followed her out of the pool and straight into the hotel room where you all stripped out of your wet swim wear.

As you climbed onto the bed, you realized that Ona had also prepared this. There were scented candles, massage oils and various toys on the bedside table. You smiled, Ona had really been craving to see you.

You could not wait to repay both of your girlfriends. And you wanted to taste them both.

Even if that meant lunch would turn into dinner. You would take your sweet time to satisfy this hunger.

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