#runaways gif pack

[prettygirlgifhunt]

You will find 40 gifs HERE, made by myself, of Gregg Sulkin in Marvel Runaways (season 1 episode 1). More gifs will be added soon.

The gifs are self-service so do not hesitate to use them, they are there for that! But Please don't forget to credit me if you use them for crackships or whatever. I would love to see your creation. If you’re using these, give this post a like or a reblog, thank you!

TW: food, drink, flash, semi-nudity.

[beady-eyed-munson]

Clearing out some pics i couldnt fit with anything

Eddie picture and gifs pack for fics and moodboards part 10

[homebreweds]

content warnings: n/a

* in the source link, you will find 40 225×127 gifs of actress LYRICA OKANO in her role as nico minoru in marvel's runaways. okano identifies as a straight cis woman and uses she/her pronouns. she is of japanese descent, and were born in 1994. you are free to use as long as you tag #usercapella or #useramys as credit. i’d love to see what you do!

support me by tipping!

[reidmotif]

Check Your Window (He's At Your Window)

Summary: Reader discovers her window faces into the apartment of her very attractive building neighbor, Spencer. She's willing to do anything for his attention. He's willing to reward her for her efforts.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: voyeurism, lingerie, masturbation, slight dubcon (but for like 5 seconds i swear), nipple play, penetrative sex, apartment break-in.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

It’s natural to believe you’re safe in your place of residency. You’re given locks, blinds, a security gate- all measures designed to invoke a false illusion of privacy. Of course, there are defects that no one can plan for that have the ability to shatter this illusion. 

Mine happened to be a badly placed window. 

Finding this apartment felt akin to love at first sight. It sounds dramatic, but I’m serious. Do you know how horrific real estate is these days? But when my eyes came upon piano oak flooring, the soft light of the day streaming onto a marble island, and of course, an in-home washer/dryer system, I was sold. 

Due to my inherent awkwardness around meeting strangers,  and lack of overt charm, I’d never been one to initiate introductions with my neighbors. I moved in quietly, packing up my life into neat little boxes and dispersing them throughout the emptiness of my new space. It was only then, when I realized a strangely placed window that seemed to fall exactly where I’d wanted my bed to be. 

And while examining my outlandish situation, I saw him. 

I didn’t want to assume he’d been watching me. I wasn’t paranoid like that. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to give off the aura of, for lack of better words, a creep,  so the quick aversion of my eyes from his gaze felt instinctual. Curiosity won over me a millisecond later, though, and against my better judgment, I quietly peered into the window again, wondering if the man in the glass had slipped away, or had looked away from where our eyes met last. 

What I hadn’t anticipated, however, was to be met with the unflinching stare of his eyes, far from concerned with how he came off, holding his gaze with an almost disconcerting and defiant presence. 

He gave me a subtle nod, before walking away, disappearing from view. I was left feeling.. unsettled. But also strangely thrilled. There was a certain peculiarity in knowing you were susceptible to an audience at any given moment. I vaguely recalled social facilitation as a possible explanation as to why the concept roused me the way it did, but whatever it was, I didn’t feel compelled to attach curtains or any kind of barrier to avoid the phenomenon. 

While my thoughts occasionally drifted to the man, I didn’t actually know anything about him. He lived in the building beside mine, so we didn’t even share so much as a landlord. I truly never expected to gain any insight on him besides the location of his domicile in relation to mine, and the thought didn’t bother me by any means.  I was completely fine with letting our connection stay as severed as it was. 

Fate, on the other hand, had other ideas. 

I found myself a few weeks later, struggling with an overstuffed grocery bag in front of my building, and in a terrible game of mismanaged weight and the flimsiness of grocery-store plastic, my bag gave way, scattering the contents of it across the ground. Further misfortune plagued me, as the bag in question had been holding a good pound of lemons, that rolled quite far from where I’d been standing. I immediately dropped to the ground, trying to gather up the ones by my feet in my arms, and noticed a presence nearby doing the same and bringing the runaway citrus to me. I was thankful, and was ready to express my gratitude to the helpful samaritan, until I saw a flash of recognition collectively pass over our faces as we made eye contact. 

Him. The man in the window. 

“You dropped these.” He says, his voice a little quieter than I’d expected from him, and I nod. 

“Yeah, no. It’s these bags. Not really equipped to hold a pound of lemons.” I say, trying to gather the rest to my chest, our eyes still trained on the other. 

“Can I ask why a pound of lemons?” He asks, a sort of playful lilt in his voice. 

“Lemonade.” I say, almost immediately. 

There’s a bit of confusion that flashes over his face. “Are you making a joke?” He replies, furrowing his brows a bit. 

I realize that my response might’ve come off as too deadpan, and I shake my head to correct his misconception. “Oh, no. I’m serious.” I say, offering a grin.  “I love lemonade. There’s a work party I’m attending, and I offered to make some for the office. Hence, the lemons.” I continued, gesturing at the aforementioned fruit, and feeling myself ramble slightly, but it didn’t seem to offend the recipient. 

“That.. is a surprisingly normal response, given the situation.” The man says, nodding. “I love lemonade too.” He adds. 

There’s a bit of silence as we both picked up lemons together, the man more focused than I on the task. I took the oppurtuinity within the lull of our conversation to truly examine the man, finally no longer separated by a pane of glass, and my observations all seemed to point towards one glaringly obvious conclusion. 

The man in the window was hot.

He appeared older than me, yet his age did nothing to diminish the beauty of his features. His doe-like eyes seemed to shine with the same curiosity that I felt towards him. His hair was a bit longer than I’d expect from a man his age, but it suited him. The smooth slope of his nose had a certain charm to it, and his cheekbones were impossibly sharp. I wanted to run my thumb over the bone, and kiss him senseless until we could barely remember our own names. 

“I’m (Y/N). You’re free to come over.” I say, a little more rushed than I’d wanted to. “For the lemonade, of course.” I add, trying to not drop the ball when it came to inviting this gorgeous man over to my apartment. 

“Spencer.” He replies, offering his name to me. “I'll keep it in mind.” He says, smoothly. He flashes me a kind smile as he places the last of the lemons into my other bags or directly into my hands. 

I’d hoped “I’ll keep it in mind” meant “within the next few days or so” but waiting seemed futile after a certain amount of time had passed. He never came, and I even stopped seeing him as often through the window in passing. In hindsight, it was rather naive to genuinely expect a near-stranger to come to my apartment, on account of an invitation that could have been interpreted as a thinly-veiled proposition.

It felt a bit dull, his lack of interest. I’d had a taste of his attention, and for some reason, I was hooked. It was irrational, and illogical, but I couldn’t help the desire I felt simply at the thought of this man. And in a mixture of perversion, desperation and pure brainlessness, I tried to use the one thing that had rarely failed me in the past. Sex. 

I reasoned by telling myself it wasn’t like it was guaranteed he’d see me. 

And it wasn’t as if I was standing directly by the window, exposing myself for his pleasure, and his pleasure only. So hey, if he saw my figure adorned in lacy lingerie in passing, and felt compelled to act on that in any way he chose, well. No harm, no foul, right? 

So that’s exactly what I did. To my benefit, it was one of the hottest summers D.C had ever had, so the lack of clothing worked in my favor.  I’d always felt quite confident in my own skin, so lounging around in bras, panties, barely-there cover-ups around my apartment didn’t strike me as the oddest thing to do.  I felt comfortable, and in turn, possibly seducing the man in the window. Win-win. 

And “win” I did, in some way at least, because I noticed the arrival of lingerie correlated in a sudden uptick in the times I’d see Spencer taking a longer-than-normal glimpse into my apartment. It was fucking exhilirating, to have his regard in this strange, taboo way. I’d find myself imagining him, surrounded by a sea of sheets and pillows slowly stroking his cock to the images of my scantily-clad body. I had no real way of verifying if this was the actual case, but the fantasy was enough to bring heat to my cheeks and an ache in my panties. 

It started to drive me a little crazy, however, when after a week of this,  literally no tangible reward came from the fruits of my labor. While I’d enjoyed his eyes on my form, that seemed to be all he was capable of. He seemed completely at ease with just watching (to my utter dismay) and it seemed the action I wanted him to take was sorely out of reach. 

Reflecting on his shy, soft demeanor from the one time we’d spoken, I concluded that he might not be as forward as I am. It made sense; he never seemed to have visitors in his apartment and, seeming to be in his 40s without a stable partner, he probably wasn't accustomed to a woman's attention in this way. He didn’t exactly exude “womanizer” anyway from what I knew about him, and I began to connect his lack of initiative to these points.

 It didn't deter me from continuing my attempts though. At best, I was at least providing a lonely middle-aged man some sorely needed imagery in the meantime. I’d always been a giver, anyhow. 

It’s reasonable to assume there’d be some payoff down the road, right? 

Wrong. I continued to wear increasingly revealing lingerie, going as far as just walking around naked once in a while. Nothing. I was a fucking saint at this point for continuing this for him.

It didn’t help that my mind insisted on taunting me with what I couldn’t have, as a moment of spare time in my day would constantly be preoccupied with thoughts of him in my bed, pinning my hands down and kissing up and down my neck. I’d imagine him pounding into me, or bouncing up and down on his cock, bringing us both to the throes of pleasure. I couldn’t halt the depravity of my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried.

What I also couldn’t stop, was the slow descent of my fingers into my panties one night, finding a delectable mess within them, signifying my deep arousal associated with the man. It’d been a long few weeks,  the smell of summer and heat encasing my apartment, and a profound craving I couldn’t resist. I breathed out a sigh of relief as I began rubbing the small nub, alternating between up and down motions, and then a slow, circular rub. Little moans poured out my lips, before I quickly shed my panties entirely, watching a string of arousal stuck to them, kicking them haphazardly to the side, wanting more access to my clit. 

My eyes naturally closed as I found myself lazing towards the precipice of release. Soft sighs and moans filled my apartment as I let my fingers rub a bit more desperately. I could see flashes of him again behind my eyes, his hand on me, instead of my own,  mirroring the actions I was performing. A gasp of his name came tumbling out of me as the image became clearer and clear, my eyes opening almost frantically as I felt myself closer and closer. 

That’s when I got the strangest sensation, and felt a pair of eyes on me. I jolted my head to the left, and saw Spencer, who was clearly watching at this point. His gaze was entirely trained on me, and similar to the first time he saw me, our eye contact didn’t deter him from his observation. 

I refused to let it either, and kept my gaze trained on him. I was entirely exposed. I wouldn’t have been able to stop my actions if I’d had a gun to my head. It just felt too fucking good. A moment more of eye contact from him, and I felt the familiar clench and release from my body, waves of pleasure wracking my body. I let out another moan, but not once did my eyes leave his, as my back arched against my sheets, a silent plea on my part being conveyed.  

Come here. What could you possibly be waiting for? 

I watched him disappear from the window as I finished, both literally and figuratively, and panted, wondering if finally, finally, my prayers and fervent supplications would be answered. 

After about 30 minutes, my anticipation was replaced with severe disappointment when I realized even after then, he wasn’t coming. I could no longer see him in the window, and at this point it seemed a little silly and pathetic to continue expecting him to come. 

Maybe he was just entirely sexually inadept. That could be a possibility, right? How much more explicit could I get than this? I’d masturbated in front of him! Albeit, through a window, but masturbation regardless! Was this seriously all he was willing to do? 

I roll my eyes at the thought. I came to accept that maybe, truly, there was nothing I could do to get this man to fuck me the way I deserved. Fine.

As I closed my eyes to get some necessary rest after my endeavors, I made up my mind that I’d buy curtains tomorrow. Fuck Spencer Reid, and his absolute inability to take any action in his goddamn life. Fuck this apartment. Fuck everything. 

Was I dramatic? Yes. Was I still right? Also yes. 

Despite the sour mood I’d taken to bed with me that evening, my dreams were anything but. The idea of Spencer Reid holding me down, whispering sweet and dirty nothings alike were all still incredibly tantalizing to my subconscious. I could hear his voice in my ear, soft pink lips brushing against the shell of my ear, a deep pressure imprinted onto my body, keeping me in my bed. 

“Wake up, sweetheart.” He murmured, beckoning me out of the peaceful cocoon of sleep. 

I felt a few more wet and warm kisses trailing up and down my neck, the sweetest sensation of pleasure being granted to me with every touch he gave. 

“Need you to wake up, pretty girl.” He mumbles. “You really are so pretty up close.” His voice is slightly patronizing, and it does nothing to help the excitation that was steadily growing inside of me. 

Suddenly, I became incredibly aware that the stimuli I was receiving didn’t appear to be a byproduct of my psyche, but rather- he was here? My eyes opened slowly to realize I wasn’t at all mistaken, the soft brush of his brown hair against my neck slightly tickling me as I came to. 

“Atta girl.” He mumbles, his lips still mapping out every inch of my skin. Out of pure instinct, a slightly alarmed moan came from me, still unsure if I was dreaming or not. Surely I had to be dreaming. I had to be, because how the fuck did Spencer Reid get into my apartment? Into my bed? 

“You want this, yeah?” He murmurs, taking a second to gaze down at me. I realized he’d been on top of me this whole time, and the pressure I’d felt in my dream was his skin on mine, trapping me in between his strong chest and the soft sheets adorning my mattress. “I know you do. Saw your little show and everything.” He breathes out, desperately, almost. 

I know I should’ve thought about it. Perhaps I should’ve pondered on the idea of letting a man who’d just broken into my apartment full access to my body as he pleased, but there was no time. He was here, and how could I have ever said no to that? 

There’s an equally as desperate and breathy, “yes” that escapes my lips, and before I can finish saying the word, he dives down, meeting my lips with his, absolutely devouring me with no hesitation whatsoever.  If I'd thought his previous ministrations were delightful, this was absolutely heavenly. 

I moan softly into his mouth, wanting to tangle my hands in his hair, or latch them onto his shoulders and sink my nails deep into the skin that resided there- anything to show even a semblance of control in this situation, but it seemed Spencer had already thought of that, pinning my hands against the mattress so tightly, I couldn’t have moved if I’d exerted every last bit of strength into it. 

“God, the first time- first time I saw you.” He mumbles in between kisses. “With those lemons. I knew they’d fall. Saw you through the window across the street and practically ran. Wanted to meet you so badly.” 

A small whimper escapes me, and I can’t help but get wetter at the thought. I knew he’d been watching me through the window, but the idea that I captured his attention, outside of my apartment, in the most mundane of situations only served to heighten the arousal I felt, my thighs rubbing together for any kind of relief. 

He notices the movement and grins, planting one last kiss on my lips before slipping down. His hands cup the backs of my knees, forcing me to spread my previously shut legs. 

“You had the prettiest voice.” He breathes out, examining my glistening heat. “Fuck. Couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d sound, screaming my name.” He leans forward, planting a chaste kiss on my clit that caused an incredibly breathtaking jolt through my body. 

“Spencer-” I moan, my head rolling back as I felt it, my back arching slightly. 

“Yeah, just like that.” He mumbles, clearly pleased. “Good girl.” 

His hands traveled upward from where he’d been situated between my legs and squeezed my breast blindly. It didn’t feel like it was for my pleasure, but rather that he was desperate to touch anywhere he possibly could. Anyone else, and I might’ve been annoyed with the incessant touching, but with him? 

 It was so fucking hot. 

“That goddamned lingerie.” He mumbles. “The things I wanted to do to you. Did you know that?” 

I looked at him through hooded lids, unsure what he meant, and he took my diversion of attention to quickly tweak one of my nipples, eliciting another surprised moan from my mouth. 

“I’m so much stronger than this, usually.” His large hands continue to squeeze and grope at my breasts. “But you.” He whispers, a hint of a growl making its way into his tone. “Had to push the limits. Practically begging me to come here and take you.” 

I let out a gasp as I felt his hands trail down my stomach, the cool touch of his fingertips causing the muscles to tense up there. 

“I’m gonna do it.” He whispers, his face only illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the open window, but I could still see the dangerous glint in his eye, thrilling me even further. “Fuck you exactly how you want it.” 

Before I’m able to react to the sentiment, he’s grabbing onto my hips and turning me over, a yelp drawn out from me. 

“Hands and knees.” He says, in an authoritative tone that doesn’t leave any room for any disagreement. I comply quickly, much to his elation. 

“You’re so good for me, yeah? Gonna ruin you. Just how you want.” 

There’s a hint in condescension in his tone, like he’s making fun of me for wanting to be fucked this badly, but I can barely pay any mind about it, especially when I feel his cock slotting itself betweet my folds, separated only by his boxers, a shaky moan coming from Spencer. 

I can feel his hands leaving my hips and the slight lean away as he quickly shucks off the fabric, and within the next second, he’s pushing into me, providing me with a stretch and fulfillment that was so much better than I could’ve ever imagined. It doesn’t take him long to set a fast pace, the sound of our skin slapping and the smell of sex permeating the room. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He moans out, and I let out similar noises in tandem. 

I can barely find it in me to stay coherent. I want to scream how good he feels, how big his cock feels in me, how close I was- but instead the only thing I could manage was the borderline scream of his name and loud sobs of pleasure, fully at the mercy of the man behind me. I can feel the way I clamp down on him, absolutely imploring him for as much as he could give me. 

“Gonna come for me, yeah?” He says, feeling the clench of my walls on his cock.  “Come on, pretty girl. Give me what I want.” He murmurs lowly, leaning down closer to my ear. His hand shoots out a moment later, beginning to rub my clit, similar to how I had been doing a few hours earlier as he watched me, and the memory and sensation of it is enough to hurl me off the edge, my walls tightening around his cock as waves of pleasure wracked through my body.

It seemed that was enough for him as well. I felt his hips still, and a sudden warmth at my deepest point. He let out a groan of relief as he thrusted once, twice more, and then pulled out, his cum slipping down my thighs as he plopped down next to me. I’d already collapsed the second he pulled out, panting as I came down from the orgasm. 

“You good?” He mumbles, wearily, and I can feel him moving aside my hair to kiss at my shoulder. 

“Mhm.” I murmur back, a small sigh of relief escaping me. There’s a beat of silence, before he breaks it.

“Tomorrow.” He murmurs. “Wanna go out with me?” 

I raise an eyebrow, turning at him with a playful expression- as playful as I could get in this state anyway. “Where to?” 

“Target.” He mumbles, still stroking my back lazily, his eyes shining with something less intense than lust now, but still enough to turn my stomach over with butterflies.

“Target?” I say, squinting my eyes. “Why Target?” 

“We’re buying you some curtains.” He says, a small grin appearing on his face. “And maybe a stronger lock.” 

I giggle at that, rolling my eyes a bit.  “But then you don’t get to see me anymore. I kind of liked what we had going on.” 

“I did too.” He whispers, his tone slightly vulnerable now. “But I like this a lot more.” 

A small smile plasters itself to my face as I nod.

 “Me too.” I whisper back, biting my lip. 

A mutual understanding passed through the both of us as we smiled at each other in the dark, and for a split second, I imagined myself possibly loving this more someday. 

All in good time. Right now, I was going to sleep, protected by his soft, strong arms. That was enough for now. We’d finally gotten what we wanted. 

woah!! trying to finally get back into writing semi regularly i see. i hope this was enjoyable. this is one of those pieces i'm kind of unsure about, so please, please interact if you liked it! likes, comments, reblogs, anything! or let me know if you didn't! i live for feedback of any kind. thank you for reading anyhow, i am very grateful for it <3

also lol if it wasn’t obvious i listened to “she” for fic inspo lol. linked below

[youreverydayfangirl]

so highschool

pairing: charles leclerc x australian! reader

summary: y/n yln is in love, or in which the famous singer decides to hard launch a relationship

warning: age gap relationship, hate

a/n: i aged up charles so its not pedophelia guyssss (8 years gap)

pt 2 is here!!! pt 3 is here!!!

f1 masterlist

main masterilst

yourusename has posted

liked by charles leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 7, 437, 982 others

yourusername life recently ft kika and gomez

tagged: francisca.cgomes, gomezzzlife

francisca.cgomes no because i missed you so much

→ yourusername just ditch pierre and come stay with me two problems solved

→ pierregasly yourusername uncalled for

→ yourusername pierregasly you exist so is it really uncalled for

→ user1😭

sabrinacarpenter ur so perf omg

liked by creator

→ oliviarodrigo no fr fr

user2 y/n really just woke up and chose violence today

→ yourusername if pierres involved always

user3 shes so fine tbh

user4 why is she hanging out with kika

→ user5 they've been friends for ages babes

user6 so no ones gonna talk about charles camping out in the likes

yourusername has posted

liked by charles leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 6, 569, 932 others

yourusername: insert dry ass caption here

tagged: francisca.cgomes

francisca.cgomes marry me 💍

→ yourusername bet

pierregasly the girl on the fifth slide 😍

→ yourusername back off shes my wife 🤺

→ pierregasly shes literally my girlfriend

→ yourusername and?

→ francisca.cgomes and?

→ pierregasly i give up

→ user1 LOL

user2 pierre be fighting for his life in y/ns comments

liked by creator

→ yourusername as he should tbh

user2 charles camping out in the likes AGAIN i see👀

yourusername has posted two stories

caption1: where am i off to???

caption2: Monza <3

liked by charlesleclerc, francisca.cgomes and 248, 732 others

charlesleclerc how far away are you?

charlesleclerc i miss you

yourusername not that far my love

yourusername i'll see you soon

yourusername love you

charlesleclerc i love you more

francisca.cgomes YAYYY

francisca.cgomes I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU

yourusername ME TOOO

user1 where are you off too 👀

user2 literally back the fuck off babes

yourusername has posted

liked by charles leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 10, 987, 993 others

yourusername monza gp ps not the way i wanted to hard launch but very proud of my baby

tagged: francisca.cgomes, charlesleclerc

francisca.cgomes cant believe i have to share now

→ yourusername lets just runaway together

→ francisca.cgomes yourusername packing my things as we speak

→ charlesleclerc yourusername excuse me???

→ yourusername charlesleclerc hehe sorry??

→ pierregasly you get used to it after a while

→ user1 this dynamic>>

user2 hard launch of the CENTURY

user3 I KNEW IT OMG

user4 "not the way i wanted to hard launch" can she just be grateful omfg

user5 goldigger

user6 shes way to young for him

yourusername has posted

liked by charles leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 7, 437, 982 others

yourusername two new singles "so highschool" and "so american" out now guysss

charlesleclerc I HEARD THESE FIRST GUYS

liked by creator

francisca.cgomes streaming nonstop

liked by creator

pierregasly even i'm admitting their good

liked by creator

landonorris charlesleclerc never playing gta with you again

→ charlesleclerc have you seen my gf mate

sabrinacarpenter MY TALENTED BESTIE

liked by creator

oliviarodrigo MARRY ME

liked by creator

user1 he says i'm pretty wearing his clothes

user2 still don't like her

→ user3 then why are you stalking

→ user4 user3 no fr

→ user3 gtfo then

yourusername has posted two stories

charlesleclerc has posted one story

caption 1: mr so highschool and so australian ❤️

caption 2: back in monaco for a while

caption 3: the best view

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris and 248, 732 others

charlesleclerc ❤️❤️

yourusername 😙💋

landonorris maybe he might shut up about you now

yourusername it can't be bad

landonorris sure...

user1 wonder whos money that was

user2 eww

yourusername has posted

liked by charles leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 9, 684, 320 others

yourusername well deserved time off

tagged: charlesleclerc

charlesleclerc still can't believe your mine ❤️

→ yourusername i could say the same mon amor

→ user1 🤺🤺

francisca.cgomes shes everything hes there

→ charlesleclerc hey!!

→ yourusername sorry baby

→ charlesleclerc yourusername its alright my love

user2 what well deserved time off you haven't done anything

→ user3 go touch grass shes obviously talking about her boyfriend

user4 y/n and her atm

user4 really does like older men huh

yourusername has posted

liked by charles leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 14, 970, 996 others

yourusername he was so nervous

tagged: charlesleclerc

charlesleclerc i need you more than the moon needs the sun

→ yourusername 😭😭

charlesleclerc shocked that you said yes

→ pierregasly same tbh

→ yourusername francisca.cgomes come get your man

→ francisca.cgomes yourusername yes maam 🫡

francisca.cgomes I HELPED PICK THAT RING OUT

liked by creator

francisca.cgomes IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU OMG

→ yourusername your the sweetest omg

pierregasly yeah congrats i guess

→ francisca.cgomes pierregasly be so real you sobbed like a baby

COMMENTS ON THIS POST HAVE BEEN LIMITED

charlesleclerc has posted

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 11, 865, 543 others

charlesleclerc she said yes

tagged: yourusername

yourusername mon amor

yourusername how did i get so lucky

→ charlesleclerc im the lucky one

francisca.cgomes creds for helping with the ring

francisca.cgomes AND THE PHOTOS

→ charlesleclerc right yes credit to you

→ pierregasly charlesleclerc "right yes credit to you" npc frfr

→ francisca.cgomes pierregasly leave him alone he just got engaged

landonorris congrats 🍾

liked by creator

carlossainz55 congrats charlesleclerc yourusername

liked by creator

maxverstapen1 happy engagement!!!

liked by creator

lewishamilton congradulations

liked by creator

alexalbon yay!!!!

liked by creator

georgerussell so happy for you guys 🍾

liked by creator

oscarpiastri happy for you mate

liked by creator

oliverbearman so does that mean i have a mother now

→ charlesleclerc yes son

______________________________

a/n: so thats part one and my first ever post guys!!!! i do have a pt2 and maybe pt3 planned so just lmk if you want them

[onskepa]

hiii!! i’m new to this whole request thingy :/ but i was wondering if you could make a fic about aonung with a runaway bride basically something about him being in love with a girl who isn’t inlove with him so she runs away to avoid being with him BUTTTT he finds her a couple years later mated to neteyam!! you don’t have to do it it was just a thought thank you!!!>.<

ooooooooooooh okie Im gonna love doing this one! Sit back and enjoy~!!

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

Tilayro

It is now or never. She can't handle another day for as long as he is around. Quickly and silently tilayro packs only the basics that she needs. Making sure she doesn't alert anyone in her home. She hopes that one day, her family will forgive for what she was about to do. May Eywa forgive her. 

Guilt threatens to rise up at the back of her throat, tilayro quickly shakes her head, no, now is not the time to doubt or have second thoughts. She will never have another chance like now. 

Making sure she has everything, taking one last look at her home, tilayro leaves. Running down the beach to where her skimwing is, quickly connecting with her dear friend, tilayro leaves. Making the daring move to leave the borders. Leaving her home and all that she ever knew. But this had to be done. Tilayro would rather do anything else than be forced to mate with a man who will never see her as she is. 

Neteyam slowly wakes up, letting his eyes adjust to the light in his home. Letting out a yawn, he gets up silently, as much as he could. His arm was tugged by his beloved mate who still sleeps soundly beside him. It truly never gets old, waking up and the first thing he sees is the love of his life. How did neteyam get so lucky? He thanks Eywa every day for having his beloved by his side. 

“Mmnn…stay…” he hears her whisper, reaching out to grab his other arm. 

Neteyam chuckles, how can he resist her? 

He lays down once again as she gets closer to his warmth. Taking in her scent, neteyam lets himself be wrapped around with her arms. Its still early. He can attend his duties a little later. 

Tonowari and his family along with a few clan members were getting ready for their long trip to the forest. Tsireya was pretty excited to meet a whole different clan and explore areas she never thought she would see. Ronal kept neutral of it, but tonowari can tell she looks forward to it. Ao’nung seems to rather stay and leave. 

“Why must I go? It has nothing to do with me” ao’nung complains for the hundredth time. Tonowari sighs for the hundredth time that day. 

“It has everything to do with you. You are the clan's future olo’eyktan, as well as tsireya being the future tsahik, so you have no option but to come as well” tonowari explains. Ao’nung just sighs and packs whatever he needs to pack. 

“No option, it seemed she did,” he muttered. 

Tonowari quickly turned to face his son again, “ao’nung, I know it still bothers you but its been 2 years now, your mother will look for a better match for you” 

“Better match, there will be no other like her and she is gone, a coward she was” ao’nung said with spite and hate in his voice. 

He still hasnt gotten over it. Still hurt from what the girl did. Tonowari understands his son. 

His betrothed ran away before they were able to be one. 

“Thats it, keep moving your legs to stay afloat. Tuk dont stop moving your arms” tilayro was swimming at a remote lake with some small na’vi children. Teaching them the basics of swimming, along with tuk who is her best student in the group. 

Seeing the position of the sun, it was time to end the lessons. 

“Alright everyone, lets get you all to the edge, come on come on” she tells while gently guiding them back on land. She makes sure they are all dry and drops them off to their families when they reach the village. Tilayro likes teaching the children how to swim, its part of her since birth. 

“Til!” tuk jumps up and down as she holds her hand making their way to the sully home. 

“Are you excited?? Aren't you arent you?” tuk asks rather excitedly. 

Tilayro giggles, “yes Im excited, its not everyday we meet a whole new clan” 

Weeks back Jake and mo’at announced they will be expanding their alliances to other regions of pandora. One of the first clans they managed to get in touch with is a reef clan. Its specific name has not reached tilayro’s ears yet but was given the position to assist when the clan arrives. Teach them how to adjust in the forest climate and environment. 

“Maybe you will see your family again?” tuk asks, imagining seeing more of tilayro’s people. 

“Who knows?” she responded, but secretly, she wishes she would never see anyone from the metkayina clan ever again.

Few days have passed and everyone in the clan prepares to welcome the coming clan that will hopefully be a new ally to the omatikaya. 

Neteyam, being stressed out of his mind, is forgetting things all over their home. 

“The feathers, where are they??” he mutters to himself. 

“Right here my love” tilayro giggles lightly as she places the elegant feathers in his braided hair. She makes sure he looks presentable, first impressions are everything. Checking every detail is good and perfect. Her love is perfect. Truly embodied that of a warrior. 

“Don't be so nervous ma’nete, everything will be alright. If eywa allows it, all will be well” she says to comfort neteyam. He sighs deeply, bringing her hands up to his face. Her teal blue skin met his dark blue. A stark contrast in shades but when together, they blend beautifully. 

Neteyam stays silent, just feeling her hands bring great relief. 

He moves a bit to wrap his arms around her, holding her tight. Stroking her hair, smelling more of her natural salty sea scent mixed with that of her favorite fruit, all his anxiety washes away. Only bliss and relief takes over his heart. 

“Please stay beside me, I need you there” he begs. 

Tilayro smiles, “of course, I will always be there for you” 

Calls echoed throughout the forest, alarms and signals were being given. The reef clan has arrived and are being guided towards the omatikaya village. Jake, Neytiri and mo’at were at the border to welcome the reef clan. 

Greeting each other, Tonowari smiles, feeling very privileged and honored to stand before the legend himself. His family greeting the same, all a bit nervous as they are clearly out of their comfort zone. 

“Toruk makto, it is a great honor to meet you” tonowari says. 

Jake pats him on the shoulder, “jake is fine, it is also an honor to meet you face to face” 

Pleasantries were said, ao’nung trying his best to look like an adult to his family and the olo’eyktan. 

Mo’at guided them into the village, many omatikaya were very welcoming and gave gifts to the reef na’vi. They all felt welcomed and easily enjoyed this whole new side of pandora they never seen. 

Ao’nung especially. 

The forest is beautiful, the village even more. Animals he has never seen or heard of were there right before his eyes. How the people behave and look, their style is so different. He was starting to enjoy it. Until he wasn't. 

“Hello, my name is neteyam. This is my mate, tilayro”

She promised she would be by neteyam’s side. Always. But at this moment, she wanted to run away and hide in the darkest cave the forest has. 

She has to be dreaming, this isnt real! 

Ao’nung was standing before her, being shocked as much as she was. 

“Your…mate…?” he asks very silently. 

Tilayro can feel her heart pounding against her chest, its drumming rhythm going against her ears. Sweat started to form from her forehead. She can pass out at any moment. 

“Yes, we have been together for 2 years now” 

OH how tilayor wishes for neteyam to stop talking right now. He is giving more fuel to ao’nung without even knowing. 

Even he seems to be confused by the sudden change of the boy in front of him. 

Until suddenly, ao’nung’s teal blue eyes stared straight into tilayro’s eyes. Feeling cold chills run down her spin. He is angry, very angry. Feeling his anger rise, she needed to say something, anything! 

“So this is where you have been this whole time…” was all he said before punches were being thrown.

A huge crowd was forming in the middle of the village, tonowari, ronal, mo’at, jake and neytiri had to stop what they were doing to see what was going on. 

To tonowari and ronal’s horror, they see their son ao’nung fighting with the olo’eyktans son, neteyam. 

“Hey hey hey!” jake called out. He and tonowari quickly get through the crowd and towards their own sons. Both of them were a bloody mess. Neytiri notices tilayro and tsireya crying in distress of what they witnessed. Kiri was there to comfort them both but neytiri still heads over to make sure they are ok. 

“What happened?!” tonowari demanded to know from ao’nung. 

His son had a bloody nose, scratches on his shoulders and a black eye forming already. But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears as ao’nung was ready to pounce on neteyam again. 

Neteyam in return looked ready for round two until tilayro got in their way. 

“You!! You mated with him?!” ao’nung shouted, accusing her like she did a heinous act. 

Tilayro was shaking but stood her ground, protecting neteyam. 

“I did! We mated before Eywa! It is done and there is nothing you can do about it!” 

Ao’nung can only stare at her, as thought she betrayed him in the worst way possible. He couldn't form any more words once she said it. 

“Oh shit…” was what came out of kiri’s mouth, quickly piecing together what is happening. 

Jake, while still holding neteyam back, stared at neytiri who understood what he was feeling. 

[I'm getting a sense of major deja vu right now] he thought.

Within the massive tent that had the leaders inside including neteyam, ao’nung and tilayro inside, no one was happy with what occurred. It was a serious situation that could tear what little could be salvaged between the omatikaya and the metkayina. 

While tonowari is furious with his son, same with ronal, both were beyond shocked to see tilayro living among the forest na’vi. And mated no less. That in itself brought more confusion. 

“Start talking boy, I want a clear honest answer” jake demanded. He was in no mood for humor or light hearted jabs. Kid or not, someone threatened his son, and to an extension, his daughter in law. 

Ao’nung looked down at his hands, feeling shamed for what he did. Letting his emotions get to him, but just seeing tilayro brought a wave of new found anger he thought he could never with hold. 

“Forgive me sir, I let my mind be shrouded in emotions. I should have never beatin your son and cause a gap between our clans” ao’nung says. 

Jake was not satisfied. 

“Let me be more clear, I want an explanation, not an apology. Why did you attack me son?” 

Tonowari and ronal shared a look of concern, yes what their son did was horrible but they fear what punishment the olo’eyktan would do once ao’nung confesses. 

“Tilayro…” ao’nung begins to say. Remembering his short time with her back at his home. 

“When your son said tilayro is his mate, I lost all control. I grew mad, angry and jealous. I shouldn't, but I did. Not liking it, I punched your son out of my own selfishness. I am sorry. I will accept any punishment you will give me” 

Neytiri leaned forward a bit, “what is tilayro to you?” she asks.

“We were arranged to mate,” tilayro starts to say. 

She and neteyam were back at the comfort and safety of their home. She does her best to heal his wounds while making sure to not inflict anymore pain. 

“My family and his believed it would be good if I and ao’nung were to be together. He was already chosen to be the metkayina’s next olo’eyktan. He just needed a tsahik. I was unfortunately the one” 

Neteyam didn't speak, letting her say what happened 2 years ago. 

He remembers exactly the day he met her. She was lost, had no knowledge of the forest and was scared of everything. Tilayro clearly stood out for how her body was different from the forest na’vi. Wider arms and lets, a thicker tail. 

He remembers helping her adjust, remembers being close to her, remembers how he fell in love with the mysterious aquatic na’vi. 

“For how long were you arranged…” he asks softly. 

“Hmm…for a long while. I thought it would work. That I could be a good wife and a good tsahik to our clan. I was foolish. They had us spend more time together. In a way I was glad, because I was able to ao’nung’s true side” 

Neteyam observes his mate’s expressions closely, her eyes filled with sadness and her body movement slow and not really concentrated. 

“What was he like?” 

Just from beating the shit out of that fish boy, neteyam concluded that ao’nung currently is still a child who has no control of his emotions. Still holding some grudge and won't let go of things no matter how long ago it was. 

“Selfish. A brute, always wanting to be praised and having his ego stroked” tilayro lists as she rolls her eyes. 

Neteyam slightly smirked, “isn't that what you do with-” 

“I'm still talking” 

“Yes ma’am” 

“He always took me somewhere that mostly had his bunch of friends. Really I think those friends only hung around with ao’nung simply because he is tonowari’s son. He always showed off to me, to an extent its fine. But he did it way too much. And it was all about him, for him, to him. He never had a moment to spare for me. Never properly courted me. So I came to the conclusion that we aren't fit. I could not for the life of me spend my life with someone like him…so I….left” 

A tear fell from her face, “I left one night and never looked back. But I don't regret it. If I hadnlt left…I wouldn't have met you” 

Neteyam brought tilayro closer and gave her a loving kiss on her sweet lips. 

“Im glad you did. You are the best thing to ever happen to me and I think Eywa every day for that”  he says. 

They shared a few more kisses before he picked her up and spun her around. Laughter filled the air once more. 

A few days later the metkyaina packed their stuff to head back to their home. What happened tarnished what was supposed to changed their lives for the better. Ao’nung felt ashamed. He did throw the first punch. Now he must deal with the consequences. 

But seeing tilayro, even from a distance, is panged his heart. 

He wasnt good to her, he knows that now. But ao’nung secretly did care for tilayro. How he showed it wasnt the best. Look where it lead to now. But he couldnt leave without saying anything to her. It was no or never. 

“Where are you going?” ronal asks her son, seeing him make his way to neteyam and tilayro. She panics, thinking what worse can her son do. 

That omatikaya warriors were quick to stand in front of the couple, not letting aonung get close. 

“Please, I wish to say something. I promise to not cause anymore harm” he pleads. 

IT was a long minute before neteyam hesitantly agreed. 

Ao’nung slowly gets closer to the couple, he bows his head. 

“Im sorry for punching you. It was not my place to say terrible things and much less hurting you. I know I ruined everything and I will work on improving myself”  he says. 

Neteyam didnt say anything, only a mere hum. 

Then ao’nung turned to tilayro who was showing fear in her eyes. 

“Im sorry…for everything. I know I didn't do a lot to show I was good for you. That I hardly put any attention on you like you deserve…I did and still do care for you tilayro. Im sorry I never showed it until it was too late” 

Tilayro can feel the genuine honesty coming from him, he was messing with her. He was being truthful, which is something she thought she would never see from ao’nung. 

“Please, treat her well. Tilayro is a good person, too good even for me” 

Ao’nung and neteyam shake hands, “thank you” he spoke. 

One last looked was shared before ao’nung left to join his clan. Not looking back, ao’nung and the metkayina begin their journey back home. The omatikaya looked after them. 

Neteyam wraps his arm around tilayro, wanting to feel her skin touching his. 

“He is right, you are a good person my love. A good woman, a good mate. Even I must confess, I am glad he wasn't the one for you” 

Tilayro releases a light giggle, placing her head on his chest. 

“You will always be the one for me neteyam” 

Choosing what she wants and how she wants, tilayro knows that is the best feeling. Having the freedom to whom to love and be genuin. 

Aaaaaaand that was it for this one! I hope you all liked it! Until next time! See ya!

---------

Tilayro = freedom

[fancyfeathers]

Yandere Fatui Harbingers (Normalized Yandere AU)

Okay so I had a thought for my Normalized Yandere AU for Genshin,in a thread of reblogs (read here) with @writing-genshin-obsession she brought up the idea of in Snezhnaya most if not every relationship steeped into Yandere and that sort of behavior being encouraged there.

This made me think, let me walk you all through my train of thought 

Encouraged yandere behavior in Snezhnaya -> Fatui having darlings with them -> Harbingers having darlings -> Darlings resenting them (especially ones from other regions) -> Darlings running away together and trying to destroy the people and organization that made their life hell

The 11th Harbinger’s Darling

The Childhood Sweetheart

An Anemo Wielder 

Childe’s darling is probably his childhood friend, someone who knows him or at least  she thought she did. After going their separate ways from their childhood and they meet again and she sees who he really is, she questions everything. This isn’t the sweet Ajax she used to play with. Then to add more salt to the wound after their reunion, barely even knowing this new Ajax, he asks her parents to let him marry their daughter. She hears that and wants to throw up, she excuses herself from the room and steps out into the cold landscape of her hometown for some “air”. That air is running as fast as she can until she meets another…

The 9th Harbinger’s Darling

The Shopkeeper 

A Cyro Wielder

Pantalone’s darling is the one she meets. A young shop owner, a bakery, florist, or something along those lines. She invites the other inside the empty shop to hide. When the other darling asks about the lack of business the other reveals that for the last few months the ninth of the Fatui Harbingers have been coming to her shop and the sight of him kept away any other customers. If he didn’t come that day he would have Fatui members stay nearby, scaring away customers. He was driving her broke, all because she refused his marriage proposal.

The two young woman stay together until the missing person posters start popping up for the runaway. With the lack of customers and if they found Childe’s darling hiding here Pantalone’s darling she would be arrested and fall easily into the Regrator’s hands. So the two of them pack up what they can and run away together, leaving Snezhnaya. 

The 8th & 7th Harbingers’ Darlings

The Knight & Ballerina

A Hydro Wielder & an Electro Wielder 

They find themselves going to the city of freedom where they meet two other darlings, La Signora’s darling, a knight, and Sandrone’s darling, a dancer. The two of them have been close friends for a number of years and easily welcome the other darlings into their small apartment once they hear of their situation. It doesn’t take long to notice La Signora’s darling always keeping a close eye on the Fatui on  his patrols, along with the scars on Sandrone’s darling’s joints, almost like a doll. It doesn’t take long after for the two to reveal that they were kidnapped by the Fatui a while ago, separately but ran away together, much like the other two. La SIgnora saw the soul of her deceased lover in the young man’s eyes and called him by the deceased man’s name. Sandrone made her darling into the little perfect doll, she kept the darling drugged up and dressed up. If it wasn’t for the knight rescuing her on his own escape she fears on what may have happened.  

They also revealed that they had other friends around Teyvat that had been victims of the Harbingers and if something happened they would leave to meet up with the others as soon as possible…

And something did happen…

On a walk one day Pantalone’s darling spots the owner of the Goth Grand Hotel talking to a man… her heart sinks, its him…

She runs home and tells the others, they don’t even waste a moment before setting out again…

The 4th Harbinger’s Darling

The “Mother”

A Geo Wielder 

The four of them move onto Fontaine where they meet a young librarian and one of these victims of the harbingers. She’s so incredibly sweet it’s almost hard to believe something happened to her… 

Well almost…

When they were talking outside on the streets of Fontaine, a young man and woman run up to her, calling her ��mother” and telling her how worried “father” was about her since she disappeared. There is an apparent look of fear and horror on her face at this. The young duo don’t stay long, saying they’re going to let father know she’s okay. 

The moment they’re out of sight the librarian throws up and is in hysterics, saying how they need to get out of here at once. Once calmed down she reveals to the rest of them that a few years ago she ran away from the 4th harbinger, Arlecchino. The father of the House of the Hearth, and since she was the harbinger’s partner, she was the unwilling mother. 

The 3rd Harbinger’s Darling

The Actress

A Cyro Wielder

After that interaction, the Knave’s darling leads them to a safe house, a theater. There they meet up with Columbina’s darling, an actress. Unlike the others she refused to say what happened to her, just that something left her traumatized before she ran from Snezhnaya. She lets the others stay at the theater, well that is until that place is unsafe. The actress spots Arlecchino visiting the theater one day. The actress tells the others how it’s no longer safe here and she tells them to find their friends in Sumeru…

The actress distracts Arlecchino in conversation while the others escape but not without a price. Arlecchino recognizes her and thinks it may be smart and her best interest to return the wayward darling to Damselette…

I suppose not everyone can run forever…

The 2nd & 1st Harbingers’ darlings

The Medic & Hunter

A Dendro Wielder & Pyro Wielder

In the wilds of Sumeru is where they meet the others, a young lady, a medic, and Dottore’s darling. Traveling with her is a man, a hunter, a ranger, and Capitano’s darling. The two of them have been avoiding cities for a long time, cities mean people, and people could mean Fatui, and Fatui could mean they are trapped all over again. They met a long time ago, the Hunter used to serve in the Fatui under Capitano, until they found out the captain was going to have him go out on a dangerous mission so the hunter would be purposefully injured so he would be discharged and placed in the harbinger’s custody. He already hates the Fatui, only joining because that’s what his parents expected of him. So he ran which lead him into meeting the medic…

She was a graduate of the Sumeru Akademiya, but she did not call Dottore by that name once, always Zandik. She used to know him as a friend, they went to the Akademiya together before he was expelled. She was completely blindsided by his true nature, he was ever so kind to her, always helping her with her research. When he left the Akademiya and joined the Fatui he begged her to come with him, telling her to think of all the great things they could accomplish together, but his true nature disgusted her. She eventually graduated from the Akademiya, moving on to continue her medical research, and she did amazing things. That is until she returned to where she was staying one night and found her equipment destroyed and her research stolen, her life’s work just gone with a note saying if she wanted it back she would go to the spot where they first met, back In Sumeru. On the way there she ran into the Hunter, who convinced her not to go, of the Fatui’s corruption, so with that they traveled together, staying out of two harbingers’ reaches.

The Director’s Darling 

The Historian 

Vision Unknown

Over a campfire they all explain to Childe’s and Pantalone’s darlings how they all know each other. A kind woman, another nomad lead them to one another about a year ago. She apparently escaped with Columbina’s darling a number of years ago, her from Pierro. Unlike the others she never stayed in one region for to long, she couldn’t settle in Mondstadt like the knight and ballerina, nor Fontaine like the mother and actress, she couldn’t even travel the wilds of Sumeru with the medic and the hunter, and just forget about returning to Snezhnaya. 

They rarely heard from her but considering the recent kidnapping of Columbina’s darling they bet on something happening and it happening soon…

[ro-is-struggling]

The Princess and The Wolf || PART 1 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: A look inside the complicated love story between the runaway princess and the lone wolf that saved her.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mutual pining, really bittersweet, heavy narration and not much dialogue, female reader (use of she/her pronouns//reader is a princess), mentions of blood and injuries (reader heals Geralt’s wounds), my shitty titles (I’m so bad at it, I’m so sorry)

English is not my first language

Word count: 5000

Notes: Look,  I was in the mood for writing something cute and fluffy and magical (but also it's Geralt so it as to be angsty). I know those are probably not the words that come to your mind when you think of Geralt, but let me change your mind! Also I love writing healers/nature witches. Can you tell my fav character as a kid was Flora from Winx Club? 

This is my first time writing something like this (as in this style of narrative and for this character in particular) so be gentle!

PART 2 || PART 3

Geralt was not used to feeling that way. In his many years of living on this earth, he had never missed anyone the way he missed her. He was a lone wolf who, despite having his pack, enjoyed traveling from town to town with his horse as his only companion. He enjoyed the silence and tranquility, and did not tend to miss home too much —finding that his annual visits in the winter were more than enough to catch up with his brothers while healing his wounds. 

However, he did miss her when he was traveling. He missed feeling the warm touch of her skilled hands on his wounds as she healed him. He missed waking up to the sound of her laughter, talking to her cat as she prepared breakfast. He even missed her scolding and the look of concern she gave him every time he arrived at the door of her cabin hidden in the forest, injured. She made him feel special, often occupying his thoughts and dreams. He knew what it was, but refused to call it by name —if he did, it became real and he didn't know if he was ready for that.

Such was his longing to see her that he was almost happy to be wounded in battle, finding the perfect excuse to show up at her door once again. His wounds were deep, the beast's venom slowly spreading through his system. Were it not for the fact that he was close to her home, Geralt was fairly certain he would not have reached her in time. His healing skills were limited and only served to make his journey to the hut more bearable. Yet, the closer he got to her, the less his body ached. The promise of her company alone was enough to cure his afflictions.

Geralt was weak when he arrived at her door. From the way her natural cheerful expression turned into a worried grimace when she saw him on the other side of the wood, it was safe to assume he was not looking good. She rushed him to bed, asking him a thousand questions as she paced back and forth, gathering the necessary herbs and potions to treat his wounds. He answered no more than necessary, giving her just enough information to treat him and sparing her the details of his journey. 

He was distracted, his mind clouded by the lack of blood and the poison spreading through his body, but also by the sweet floral scent that surrounded him. It was a perfume he could only describe as the very essence of her, a mixture of jasmine, roses and a hint of vanilla that followed her everywhere, leaving a special scent in the air that assaulted the witcher's nostrils, rendering him powerless. 

"Drink this," she told him as she offered him a vial of a pale green liquid. It was a potion that would help with the poison, she explained, though he needed no reason to obey her. Geralt trusted her completely and would have drank anything she offered without question. 

"Try to hold still, this might sting a little." She warned him, pushing his clothes aside so she could treat the deep gash in his chest. She smeared her fingers with a paste that had a peculiar odor, rubbing it over her hands to warm it before directing them to the wound. Geralt was met with a burning sensation that spread from his wound to the rest of his chest as soon as her fingers made contact with his skin. He let out a grunt, fighting the spasms of his muscles to allow her to work comfortably. However, the burning was soon replaced by a sensation of pleasant warmth as she uttered an incantation in the ancient tongue. 

He concentrated on the harmonious sound of her voice, letting the words transport him back to that first time they had found themselves in a similar situation. He had been hired by the king to assassinate the beast that had killed the princess. It was said that it prowled the forest after sunset, it was there that the young girl had met her fatal fate. Her love for nature and the long walks under the moonlight was what had ultimately made her an easy prey for that monster. Geralt did not retain the specific details of that story, only what was useful to analyze his enemy. Had he done so, he might have realized that there were strange things in the story that would make any Witcher suspicious. And perhaps then he would not have been so surprised when he found the princess very much alive and well, wandering through the forest alone.

"Please, don't make me go back there." She had begged him after explaining that she had taken advantage of the beast's convenient appearance to escape from her home. "There's nothing waiting for me back there, only a future of unhappiness and subjugation to a man that doesn't respect me."

"I was hired to kill a beast and that's all I intend to do." Was his reply. He was more than ready to continue on his way, to leave her behind to sort out her fate while he dealt with what he had been hired to do, but the princess did not give him the opportunity. She begged for his help to escape from there, she didn't care where he took her as long as he got her as far away from her kingdom as possible. Her escape had not been planned, but a last minute decision that had not allowed her to pack supplies or even steal a horse from the stable. Still, she had been able to travel a fairly long way on foot, but it was evident that she could not continue like this much longer.

"I can't pay you in coin," she told him. "But I can make sure you survive your battle."

Geralt felt sorry for the young woman and was going to help her without asking for anything in return. He really doubted that she had anything valuable to offer him. He was a Witcher, an assassin highly trained in both combat and the arts of magic, tools he used to keep himself alive in the high-risk situations he lived in on a regular basis. However, his mercy proved useful after the battle, when the young princess demonstrated her healing abilities.

His wounds were deep, he was tired and his skin was painted with the reddish sticky liquid that ran through the beast's veins. But still, he was able to crawl to safety where she waited for him with his horse Roach. When she saw him approaching on the horizon she jumped to her feet, hands full of herbs she had gathered in preparation for that moment. Geralt could see nothing but a halo of light in the distance, a figure of hope running towards him with hair flying in the wind as it called his name.

He collapsed against a tree trunk, his breath hitching as the world around him became blurry and dark. He was not unconscious, but neither was he able to process what was happening around him. His memories of that moment were blurry, like a dream slipping from his mind upon awakening. The only thing he remembered clearly was a sweet female voice calling him back to life as soft hands caressed his skin, spreading their comforting warmth inside him.

Geralt had felt peace for the first time in a long while as her hands worked their magic on him, just as he felt at this very moment as her fingers caressed his skin once again. It always happened, her touch alone flooded his insides with peace and tranquility. Maybe that was why he missed her so much, maybe that was why he found himself visiting her for the simplest injuries that even he could heal. Unlike other healers, she was the only one who could calm his tormented soul, the only one who could quiet his thoughts and remove all traces of bitter negativity from his heart. 

"Rest." He heard her whisper in his ear and as much as he wanted to, he didn't have the strength to open his eyes and look at her one more time. Geralt knew he was tired, but only now, in the quiet of her company and wrapped in the warmth of her body, did he realize just how much. 

When he opened his eyes again it was morning. The rays of sunlight streaming through the window touched his face in a warm caress. His pupils were forced to adjust to the light as he opened his eyes, narrowing to almost two slits identical to those of the black cat resting beside him. The animal meowed contentedly as he shifted between the sheets —letting out a grunt of pain at the heaviness of his muscles. He stroked the cat as it purred at him, scratching its head and behind its ears as he knew it liked, before making an effort to get out of bed. His body ached and he still felt tired, but given what he had been through, he was lucky to be alive. 

Geralt heard the sweet sound of the young woman's voice echoing down the hallway like a melodious murmur that filled his heart with joy. It came from the garden, so that was where he went. He found her having a conversation with Roach, brushing the horse's mane while complaining about him to the animal as if it could talk back. They were harmless comments that he knew she didn't mean, though he'd heard them in the past —complaints about his recklessness and lack of responsibility as a horse owner were never lacking. She was especially fond of animals, so she loved to talk to his horse as if he were a human being. She did it with her cat as well, and with any animal that crossed her path. Geralt found it entertaining, though a bit excessive —especially when they traveled together and she made him stop every so often to pet and chat with every rabbit and squirrel in their path.

"What are you doing out of bed? You need to rest!" She scolded him as soon as her eyes landed on him. As firm as her gaze was, he could see concern rather than anger or annoyance reflected in them.

"I would have stayed in bed if I hadn't felt the need to come out and defend my good name." He played along, the corner of his mouth curving ever so slightly upward in an almost imperceptible movement. "I can't have you filling Roach's head with lies about me."

"They are not lies!" She grumbled, folding her arms in exaggerated annoyance. "You are reckless and you don't give poor Roach enough attention." At her words, the animal thumped its front left paw against the ground as if it understood what she had said and agreed. Geralt huffed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

"You already turned her against me." She laughed and it was like music to his ears, a melodious tone that awakened happiness within him. 

"I don't have to, she is a smart creature." She fired back, giving the horse a couple of gentle pets before setting aside what she was doing to focus her attention on him. "But seriously, you need to get back in bed."

"I'm fine." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. She looked at him steadily and Geralt knew she thought she looked intimidating, but with the way the light of the rising sun framed her figure and the gentle breeze moving her hair, he saw nothing more than a forest fairy. The most beautiful and innocent fairy he had ever seen. He was tempted to challenge her just to tease her and make her grumble. She looked adorable when she pointed an accusatory finger at him believing that something she did or said could intimidate the Witcher. In the end he decided not to do so and instead accompanied her back into the house, though he did not lie down again, but sat with her at the kitchen table. 

She insisted on preparing breakfast on her own, arguing that he was her guest and that he was badly injured, so Geralt had the opportunity to admire her as she moved about the room, humming under her breath melodies he did not recognize. It made him genuinely happy to see her acting so freely around him, thinking about how far their relationship had come. When he had first met her, she was far from the confident, free spirit she was now. She was quiet and reserved, barely asking him questions from time to time to fill the void of silence and always apologizing for everything.

It was more than mere distrust of a stranger, Geralt could see in her eyes that she was trapped inside herself, a cocoon of fears and insecurities that trapped in its intricate net the beautiful butterfly that lurked within. She would show her true colors from time to time, like when he would catch her talking to Roach when she thought he was sleeping, or when she would make them stop to help a wounded animal. But she always apologized immediately afterwards, as if she realized too late that she had done something wrong, something she wasn't supposed to do. It made Geralt wonder what kind of life she had left behind when she ran away from home. 

He was not a man of many words and was used to traveling alone and in silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds and the crunching of dry leaves under Roach's hooves, but when it came to her he felt a strange need to hear her speak. Perhaps it was the harmonious tone of her voice, or maybe the fact that he could tell she needed to express herself, but he didn't mind when she rambled absentmindedly as they traveled, putting into words every thought that crossed her mind. 

"I was never meant to be a princess, no matter what my blood says." She had confessed to him one afternoon as they walked through the forest. "The traditions, the politics, the expectations... I was never good at any of that."

"Is that why you ran away?" His question took her by surprise. He barely spoke to her so she assumed he wasn't listening to her most of the time. When she turned to look at him she found his yellow eyes fixed on her, making her feel small under his intense gaze.

"I wanted to be free." She answered honestly. "I refused to live trapped inside a castle for another day, pretending to be someone I'm not, pleasing everybody but myself... I want to forge my own path, build my own destiny. I have no idea what I'm doing or if it will even work, but I owe it to myself to try."

Geralt admired her for that. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she knew what she didn't want and had had the courage to do something about it. That was why he was so glad things were going well for her. She deserved her freedom, she deserved to have the space to find herself and live her life on her terms. Her bravery had been rewarded.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him as she set a plate of food in front of him, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts. 

"I'm fine."

"Are you? Or are you doing that thing you do all the time when you pretend not to need anyone's help?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, proud of herself for knowing him so well. 

Geralt sighed. "I'm a bit sore and tired, but I'll live." He finally confessed.

"That's normal, you were really hurt. I'm amazed that you got here in one piece." 

"You should have seen the other guy." He joked sarcastically and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm being serious, Geralt. The poison could have killed you."

"It didn't."

"Only because of your slow heartbeat, but what if next time you don't get so lucky?" The tone of the conversation suddenly changed as they looked into each other's eyes. The familiar heavy tension in the air, making it hard to breathe. 

It was her greatest fear. She feared there would come a day when Geralt's wounds would be so bad that even she wouldn't be able to heal them. She feared it almost as much as never opening the door again and finding him on the other side. The thought of him dying, at home or out on the battlefield, terrified her. She knew it was stupid since he was a Witcher, a being genetically modified to face the greatest dangers, whose purpose in life was to kill monsters. She knew the smart thing to do would have been to get away from him in time, before his absence hurt her as much as it did. She knew there was no point in worrying about someone who had made peace with the idea of dying in battle, but she did it anyway. She couldn't help but fear for his safety the moment he set foot outside her home, worrying until he would eventually show up there again.

"Just... be careful." She muttered after a few seconds of silence, swallowing her emotions as a lump formed in her throat.

Geralt could see the pain in her eyes, the fear and worry shining in them clearly. He felt the need to assure her that he would be all right, but they both knew that was a lie. In his line of work one could never be sure of anything. Things could change very quickly and even he could be surprised with the cold caress of death sooner than expected. The best he could do was to assure her that he would do everything in his power to get back to her.

"I will be." 

That wasn't enough to dissipate the young woman's fears, but it was enough to calm her worries for the moment. Instead of concentrating on things she couldn't control, she chose to turn her attention to the things she could. After breakfast she inspected Geralt's wounds once more to make sure they were healing properly. With the help of her magic and the speed with which the Witcher's body regenerated, the deep gash that adorned his chest was now no more than a scratch. The skin was still red and irritated, but it was in better condition than just a few hours ago. The same with the rest of the cuts and scratches that graced the rest of his body, some of which had already disappeared completely, leaving behind a slightly discolored line on the skin.

She sat beside him as she worked, rubbing a healing paste of her own creation over what was left of his wounds. She focused her energy on him, eyes glued to the skin of his chest as she let her fingers work their magic. She knew it probably wasn't necessary, given the rapid evolution of his cuts they would most likely be practically healed in a couple more hours. But she wanted to do it. She didn't like to see him hurt, even if it was something that happened regularly. He always came to her bruised and bloody, but even then she never got used to seeing him like that. She hated to see him suffer, so when he was with her she would go out of her way to heal all the wounds on his body no matter how small or insignificant. She wanted to make her home a sanctuary for him, a place free of pain and danger where they were safe to be together.

Geralt could feel her energy enveloping him, the warmth her body radiated caressing his skin delicately. The scent of her hair flooded his nostrils, filling his lungs with that sweet floral perfume that was so distinctive to him. It was intoxicating, a drug he couldn't quit. He allowed himself to get lost in the moment, enjoying the soft touch of her hands on his chest and shoulders as he admired her work. She was beautiful, like a flower full of color and life that only grew stronger with each of his visits. Her smile, a ray of sunshine that lit up the gray, cloudy sky that was his life. And her eyes... oh her eyes. Geralt could get lost in them for hours, reading in her reflection every little thought that went through her head. To him she was an open book, the most fascinating he had read in a long time.

She became slightly nervous when she looked up and met Geralt's intense gaze fixed on her. They were close, too close to each other for her not to feel intimidated under the watchful admiration of his amber orbs. And yet, she couldn't look away from him. She couldn't help but marvel at the sharp angles of his features, counting the small scars that adorned his skin as her eyes traveled down his face. Those were two traits that people normally found intimidating about him. He had the face of a reckless warrior, a lone wolf with no feelings that augured trouble. But she knew him better than that, she knew the man behind the rumors and knew there was much more to his story and his character. When she looked at him she saw more than the dangerous Witcher. She saw the man who had saved her from her terrible fate, the one she missed and longed for when he was far away, the only man who occupied her thoughts. 

Geralt's eyes strayed to her lips as she caressed them with her tongue. It was an innocent act but he felt it as a temptation, a challenge he had every intention of accepting. He leaned forward, feeling her warm, slightly quickened breath colliding and mingling with his own. He held still for a moment, waiting for her to pull back and move away. When she didn't, Geralt moved a little closer to her until he felt the tip of her nose brush against his. When he looked up one last time, he noticed that she was looking at him with half lidded eyes, completely at his mercy. She was in a trance, lost in the deep amber of his eyes, with no thought in her mind but him. It was the moment they had both been waiting for, the culmination of all the tension that had built up.

But before they could join their lips in the long-awaited kiss, the sound of the cat jumping on top of the table interrupted them. The animal's meow broke the trance and she realized what was about to happen. Embarrassed, she pulled away from Geralt immediately, mumbling something about feeding the cat as she disappeared from his vision. He would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, still longing to feel her lips on his, but perhaps it was for the best. If he kissed her he would never want to stop or leave again, and he knew that wasn't possible. His place was out there on the road with his horse as his only companion. He was not meant to stay in one place for long, his profession had taken that privilege away from him long ago.

“Your wounds are almost healed.” She stated as she returned to the room, picking up the cat and setting it down off the table. It was an excuse so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye when talking, something to occupy herself so she wouldn't think about what had just happened.

"Guess I'll be leaving tonight then." He was in no hurry to leave, he would gladly stay another week there with her if he could, but he knew that wasn't wise. He could never stay too long with her since he always feared the effects it might have. The more time he spent with her, sharing moments of domestic intimacy, the harder it was for him to get back on the road. The last time he had been there he had ended up running away in the middle of the night, knowing he couldn't leave if he had to look her in the eye and say goodbye. And now he feared that nothing had changed, so he had to get out of there before it was too late.

"I would rather you stay one more night and rest here." She said in a soft tone, trying to hide the true meaning behind her words. She didn't want him to leave, not yet. "Your physical wounds might be healing fast but don't forget that you were poisoned and you almost died. Witcher or not, that's a lot." 

"I'll be fine."

"Maybe, but would it kill you to stay here one more night for my own sake? Because if you walk through that door now, I will spend the rest of my days worrying about you until I see you again." She finally worked up the courage to look at him, pleading with her eyes for him to listen to her. She knew that if he wanted to leave there was nothing she could do to stop him, so she hoped he would have mercy on her. "I just want to make sure that you're alright."

Geralt couldn't refuse her even if he wanted to, not when she was looking at him with big, bright eyes full of love. Not when her voice was almost a whisper, as if she was afraid he would hear her. He understood the feeling, the fear of admitting what he really felt. But it was easier that way. It was the best thing for both of them. Their lives were incompatible as were their personalities. 

She was a nice sunny summer afternoon and he was a harsh winter night. She was a ray of sunshine that with her warm touch awakened life in everything around her and he was the cold, cruel snow that buried everything under a layer of ice. Maybe that was why he felt this inexplicable attraction to her, as if they were connected by an invisible thread that pulled him to her every time he tried to walk away. Her warmth melted the ice around him, allowing new things to blossom in the fertile soil. Only he didn't know if there was anything left under the ice that could bloom. If so, he had to be careful because her warmth, though pleasant and comforting, could lead to his doom.

Still, he ignored his brain's warnings, giving in to her pleas. They spent the day together and Geralt allowed himself to lose himself in the intimacy and domestic bliss of the moment. He indulged in the fantasy of a life by her side as he admired her dancing around the kitchen while cooking or moving among the plants as she tended to her garden, talking to the squirrels and birds that wandered by. He delighted in the sound of her voice as she called his name and enjoyed her melodious laughter. 

When the sun went down, she lay beside him on the bed, talking nonsense until her eyelids began to feel heavy. She denied being sleepy several times, assuring him that she was just resting her eyes. Geralt snorted, but said nothing, listening intently to the story she was telling him about a deer she had saved from death between masked yawns. She didn't get to finish the story, not consciously at least. She mumbled a couple of almost inaudible gibberish before falling asleep, fighting her last battle against her body's need for rest.

Geralt watched her sleep for a good while, his eyes admiring the peace on her face in the dim candlelight. She had never looked so ethereal, with her hair spread out on the pillow like a halo around her head, and her chest rising and falling slowly with her calm breathing. Her skin was soft under his touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of his fingers bruised from all the fighting and constant use of the sword. She was the most beautiful piece of art, a sculpture carved by the gods themselves. He almost felt unworthy to be by her side, the softness of her features reminding him once again how different they were, how wrong his feelings were. 

He got out of bed with a heavy heart, searching for his things while being very careful not to make a sound so as not to alert her. He couldn't stay there one more night, if he woke up in the morning with her by his side he would never want to leave and he knew very well that it wouldn't end well. So, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, just a brush of his lips against her skin as a farewell.

Geralt disappeared into the darkness of the night without leaving any trace of his presence. When she opened her eyes the next morning she was disappointed to find herself alone in bed. She didn't have to leave the room to know he was gone, she could feel his absence in the air. She felt lonely and cold again, already missing the warmth that filled her whenever he was around. Letting out a tired sigh, she dropped into a chair near the door. Her eyes were glued to the wood, her mind filled with thoughts of Geralt. She wondered if he was alright and if he was missing her as much as she was missing him. 

And just like that, the cycle continued, his departure leading the way to the stage of uncertainty and worry that grew in her with each passing day as she awaited his return. Her eyes remained glued to the door at all times, her ears attentive to the sounds waiting to hear Roach's footsteps approaching in the distance. She hated this moment. She hated not hearing from Geralt. She hated not being able to hear his low, raspy voice or feel the warmth of his body against hers. She hated the amount of energy she wasted worrying about him. But most of all, she hated knowing that all her suffering would be worth it the moment he came knocking on her door again.

I have more ideas for these two so if you guys like it let me know!

PART 2 HERE

[megamindsecretlair]

Runaway Lover, Part 1

Pairing: Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. ANGST. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving) teasing/mocking, cum play/swallowing, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, referring to female anatomy as she, all consensual. Use of n-word. Mentions of God, Christian leaning. Sorry if I missed some, I'm rushing, just let me know.

Summary: On a girl's trip with your friends to Punta Cana, getting some much needed rest before spring semester, you bump into Stunna and a whirlwind romance rocks you to your core.

Word Count: 9,326k

Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: This is a wonderful ask from @melaninpov. I'm sorry if this wasn't what you had in mind, I've been watching romance movies all day and this turned sweet unexpectedly. Happy Valentine's Day, my loves. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia

“Are you sure this isn’t too short?” You asked your friends. You stood in the bathroom of your hotel suite. The bright, fluorescent lighting in the bathroom highlighted everything. Everything. You wore a simple gold dress with intricate bronze and burnished orange swirls. It was a tad too short and showed a tad too much.

You weren’t a prude but you were also unused to showing…so much. You tugged at the short sleeves, the low neckline, and pinched the areas around your sides. You weren’t sure why you packed the damn thing, but you were drinking while packing. Something you vowed to never do again.

“You look so hot!” Your friend, Stella, said and moved closer to you and faced the mirror. She wore a violet dress with sparkling beads woven in to make it look like she wore a dress made of stars. It fit her deep ebony skin perfectly and brought out the subtle jewel tones in her skin.

You bit your lip, tasting the sweet lipgloss you dabbed on your lips. Abusing your lips was your worst sin and you avoided putting anything on them but tonight, you were all about new experiences. Hopefully. 

“I should change,” you said. You pushed past Stella’s calls out for you to stop and that there was no need. 

Angela appeared in the doorway and trapped you in the bathroom. “Damn girl!” You said. Stella’s sister was gorgeous in a marigold bodycon dress that hugged all of her curves and showed off her perfectly round ass. Truly, an apple bottom that she claimed was her best feature. 

Angela preened under the praise but did not lower her hands from the door frame. “You’re not changing. None of us are changing. We only have two days left before it’s back to fucking school and we’re going out with a bang. They better be throwing us out before the trip is over,” she said. 

She pushed you back into the bathroom. Thank goodness the space was big enough for all three of you. There were wide tile squares on the floor, a discarded hotel towel on the floor to keep you all from slipping, and two large mirrors over a double sink. 

Angela and Stella finished up their makeup and demanded that you applied more gloss. Stella handed you a clutch to match your dress and told you to take the gloss with you. 

You accepted it with a roll of your eyes. You’d likely go through the entire tube before the night was over. You were constantly at battle with your anxiety. Ya’ll really didn’t fuck with each other but it was like a toxic ex that didn’t know how to leave you alone. You could block, skip, and hop away from it but it was always lurking around the corner.

“Alright! Let’s go!” Stella yelled, getting you two pumped for the night’s activities. You all put on your matching heels or sandals, grabbed purses and clutches, and tucked in last minute items you may need, and headed out of the door.

Punta Cana was a balmy destination spot with plenty of resorts. The trip there had been uneventful but you and your friends had stayed glued to the windows, snapping pictures of the local plantlife, hills, and palm trees. 

At the resort, you couldn’t help looking around in wide-eyed wonder, taking in the people and accommodations. You had been here for a few days enjoying the beach and accompanying swimming pool at the resort. 

Everyone was friendly and open and a staff member was always around waiting to answer your questions. The goal of the trip was rest, rest, and more fucking rest. You were approaching your final year of school. After this spring semester, you were officially a senior and would have to enter the dreaded world of adults.

Stella and Angela kept up a steady stream of chatter on the ride down the elevator about what they were most excited for. The adults only resort was a breath of fresh air. No kids running around and no harried parents running after them. 

Tonight, you were going to the club in the resort. So far, your activities have kept you from that venue. You rode ATVs and did a snorkeling tour off the shore of the beach. You also climbed into a boat to watch the local marine life. That part was your favorite.

Angela had to remind you that you were in fact young and it was okay to enjoy yourself. Half the time, you didn’t know where your anxiety came from. You could be having the time of your life and then boom! Your anxiety was snatching your breath away and warning you of an invisible threat. No matter how many times you asked for proof or begged to know what the threat was, your anxiety only shook its head and repeated the warning tone: danger, danger!

You shoved your anxiety in the recesses of your mind. You were not in danger. There was no threat. You were only here to have a good time. 

On the main floor of the resort, the wide open arches and large windows let in enough of the view that you saw the moon ascending the sky. Sunset was losing its grip on this part of the world. Swirling colors of lilac, tangerine, and amber dotted the sky as night approached. The ambient lighting outside began to turn on one by one.

Stella looped her arms through yours and Angela’s arms and pulled you toward the entrance to the club. The music reached you first. Hotel guests were spilling in and out of the place so it must be a popular spot. 

You swallowed around the huge lump in your throat as you pushed inside, flashing your wristbands that confirmed your age and the amenities you paid for. The staff member waved you in with a polite smile and soon you were entrenched in the booming club.

The space itself was huge with plenty of dancefloor area. The upbeat, fast paced music got everybody dancing and shaking their hips. There were pillars stationed around the room holding up the ceiling but other than that, it was pretty much open. There was a bar area on a raised platform filled with tables and chairs. 

Most were all occupied as people looked over the railing at the brave people down below getting it on in various states of fancy clothing. Dresses flew through the space. Heels clacked on the floor. Hands were in the air in an undulating wave like the waters that crashed on the shore. 

There was a heavy smell of liquor and sweat and some type of sweet perfume in the air that tried to combat it. There was no way to combat the funk so it ended up smelling like sweet sweat. But that was to be expected with so many people in one room shaking what the Lord gave them. 

You and your friends made a beeline to the bar, immediately ordering sugary drinks that would go straight to your head. Alcohol was never a proper solution to anxiety. However, you’d take anything for a release from its shackles for the night. 

As you waited for your drink, you bounced your shoulders trying to get your body to catch up to your mind. “Naw, show us what you got, girl!” Stella said. She whistled and encouraged you to dance a little more, shake a little more.

Fuck it. You couldn’t let your anxiety win this time around. You started getting into it, shaking your booty faster and then backing away from the bar. You felt the rhythm of the song, waving your hands and getting your whole body into it.

You backed up one more step and tripped, your body flying to the right. You shrieked, hands reaching out to catch your fall. However, you didn’t fall. Strong arms encircled you. It took a few moments for your mind to catch up to the fact that you weren’t kissing the nasty club floor. 

Your heart roared in your chest, causing stops and starts that made you shake all over. The strong arms pulled you back to standing, righting yourself on your wedges. “Thank you,” you said.

You looked up into the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes you had ever seen. Those eyes were framed by a long face, wide nose, and a trimmed dark beard. He had a big smile with perfect, symmetrical teeth encased in hollow grills.

The man had rich, deep golden brown skin that he showed off with a collared navy shirt and black jeans. His upper arms were bulging with muscles, straining against the short sleeves of his shirt. 

He was in a word: devastating. 

“Are you okay?” Sound finally filtered past your racing heartbeat. The way he looked at you gave you the indication that he had asked it more than once. You bit your lip and nodded. You forgot how words worked. 

“Are you sure you didn’t twist anything?” He asked. His voice felt like what hot chocolate on a cold evening tasted like. It warmed you up from the inside out, awakening places that didn’t usually awaken for anything other than your favorite celebrity and brownies.

Your mind was slow, fuzzy around the edges, as it dawned on you that he was pointing to your feet. You moved each leg, leaning on him while you lifted your legs and moved them in a tiny circle. 

You looked back into his eyes and nodded again. “Good,” you chirped. 

He smiled slowly. Fuck, you could watch him smile for the rest of your days and never get sick of it. He was so damn cute. And hot. A dangerous combination that had you acting like Helen Keller. ‘Cept you could plainly see how divinely sexy he was. 

“Can I buy you a drink to apologize for ruining your dance?” He asked.

You smiled and ducked your head, cheeks warming up from the embarrassment of dancing in front of him. You looked down at his hands secured around your arms, at your hands on his. 

You started to move them but he held on a little tighter, unwilling to let you go. “I…kind of already ordered one,” you said around the thick lump in your throat. Come on! Get it together! What the hell was wrong with you? 

“Oh, are you here with someone?” He asked. He still didn’t let you go. 

You licked your lips, the sweet taste of manufactured strawberries coating your tongue and snapping some sense back into you. You nodded and looked towards your friends. They were openly gawking at you. 

“My friends,” you finally said. 

“But no guy?” He asked. 

You giggled and shook your head. “No girl?” You asked.

He smiled and shook his head. “I’m Stunna,” he said. 

You told him your name. He said a few times, rolling the syllables around his tongue like one did to a lollipop. You focused on his mouth and the way he said your name. As if he had been saying it his whole life and never wanted to stop. 

“If I can’t buy you a drink, can I get your number? You from the States?” He asked. 

Anxiety reared its huge, ugly, monstrous head. You were nervous to just…abandon your friends. Let alone your drink. With your luck, you lived on complete opposite sides of the country. You nodded, to give him an answer about the States. But were too nervous to tell him where. To even hint at the possibility that you could occupy the same city and there wasn’t a national alert about it. 

You were sure that he caused a storm of women wherever he went. You would have noticed if he lived around the Bay. You knew that you’d feel him in your blood, taste him in your veins if you lived in the same area. Certain that you would have bumped into each other already. Seen each other somewhere. 

“I should probably get back to my friends. I’m sure your friends are missing you as well,” you said. You reluctantly withdrew your hold on him. Your small claim for the time being. Relinquishing that hold hurt. 

He nodded. As you turned to leave, he swiftly caught your hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed your fingers. “Save a dance for me? I wanna see more of them moves.” 

A nervous giggle pushed against your rib cage, threatening to spill over. You swallowed it back down and bit your lip. You didn’t want to keep turning him down but your stomach twisted and turned. Danger! Threat! 

There was nothing threatening about the man so you figured that you needed away. You needed space to breathe and think. Time spent away from his spicy cologne that tickled your nose. 

You nodded once more. What were the odds that he’d find you again in this club? If your friends weren’t at the bar, you wouldn’t know the first place to look for them. 

Stunna let go of your hand and backed away, giving you a small wink before turning back to his friends. He was surrounded by a group of guys, all hot in some way or another? Damn. You checked out his back side as you walked back to your friends. 

“The hell you doing back here?” Stella asked.

“What’s happening? Why aren’t you sitting in that man’s lap?” Angela asked. 

“What are you talking about?” You asked. You grabbed your drink, the glass sweating from sitting so long. How long had you been talking to Stunna? And why did you feel like you wanted to run right back into his arms?

You took deep gulps of the fruity concoction, letting the alcohol seep through your system and chase away your anxiety. The cold from the drink burned away the lump in your throat. Being away from him helped. It helped in a way that was foreign to you to name or identify. 

People didn’t have physical reactions to others right? Like that was a thing made up by romance movies to get people’s heads in the clouds and sell more candy in stores, right? 

Your friends hounded you for answers to their questions, wondering what you spoke about and why you weren’t still talking to him.

“I didn’t want to abandon you for some guy. This is a girl’s trip. A relaxing trip,” you said.

“You better relax on that man’s dick! Like you saw him right? Like you saw the way he looked at you? Girl, please tell me she’s not that oblivious,” Stella said, leaning her head on her sister’s shoulder.

Angela tossed her hands up as if she were preaching to a congregation. “Father God, grant your child the gift of sight because she’s clearly blind,” Angela said. 

You laughed, rubbing your forehead at their embarrassing shenanigans. “I’m not oblivious!” 

“I pray that I’ll never do some dumb shit like her, Lord. Smite her and send the nigga my way, because damn,” Stella said. She looked behind you and you panicked, standing in her way to not bring attention to the fact that you were discussing Stunna. You risked a glance over your shoulder.

Stunna was sitting down at a table, faced in your direction. He lifted his glass to you and you smiled, turning around and immediately dropping it. The drink wasn’t helping. Butterflies flapped tiny wings in your stomach. He was killing you. 

“What happened to new experiences?” Angela asked.

“Not that damn new,” you muttered, sipping more of your drink. At this rate, you’d need ten drinks to calm the wings in your stomach. 

Stella groaned dramatically, throwing her arms across your shoulders. “As sweet as it is to worry about us, you see us every damn day. How often do you run across someone that damn fine in real life? In real life? He belongs in a magazine or on TV or some shit,” she said. 

That was the fucking truth. “He probably lives on the East Coast or something,” you said, waving Stella off of you. You were too hot. There were too many people here. Too many clusters of hot breath, sweat, and body heat raising the temperature in the room to dangerous levels. 

You sipped more of your drink. You tapped your foot against the hard floor, vibrating with energy that had nowhere to go. Nothing to do but zip up and down your body and twist your insides. 

“So? You ain’t trynna marry the nigga. Just get down,” Angela said and bent low, shaking her hips. Stella joined her, sticking their tongues out. Stella turned around and bounced her booty against Angela. Angela mimed hitting Stella’s ass and you laughed, waving them away.

“You two are a hot fucking mess!” You screamed. They continued to dance and giggle, shaking their ass and proceeding to make you wish the floor swallowed you whole. 

“Since our girl is romantically deficient, let’s get on the floor,” Stella said. You finished your drink and followed your friends to the dance floor. 

You started out stiff, not wanting to bump up against anyone. You didn’t need a repeat from earlier. Your friends noticed your reluctance and each took one of your hands. They began to swing you around. 

You smiled, falling for their obvious charm. You loosened up and relaxed. The drink finally did the trick and you surrendered to the music. You closed your eyes and felt the thumping beats, the instruments, and sultry crooning of the singer. 

You danced and laughed with your friends, relishing the feeling of being young and carefree. This was what you had been chasing this entire trip. This feeling of being present and in the moment. 

You began to twerk as the music changed, popping your ass to the beat of the song. Your friends cheered you on. You placed your hands on your knees and got lower. Someone sidled up behind you, not one of your friends you were sure. 

You shrugged your shoulders and kept dancing. Now was the time to keep living in the moment. You could dance with someone that wasn’t in your immediate comfort circle. You couldn’t always hang onto your friends like a barnacle. 

Large hands circled your waist and you leaned back into a lean but strong frame. The stranger felt like a man and a good dancer on top of it. Able to match your changing moves. The stranger grabbed your hands and spun you around to face him.

Stunna grinned at the surprise on your face. “I thought I told you to save me a dance,” he yelled to be heard over the music. 

“What took you so long?” You asked. 

“Like that?” He asked, exaggerating his words. You nodded. He matched your nod and then spun you back around. You giggled, breathless at being spun around like a doll. He pulled you around the dancefloor dancing to the fast-paced music with ease. Now it was you that was having trouble keeping up with him.

You faced him now and your hands were in each other’s, dancing with complicated turns and twirling limbs that made you feel like you were on Dancing With the Stars. The song finished and you waved your heads. “I need a break!” 

Stunna grinned, flashing those damn grills. You stared at them, wondering if he took them out during sex. Was he the type to go down on a woman? Stunna winked as he if sensed the direction of your thoughts.

He placed his hand on your lower back and led you back to the bar. You ordered some water and he made you order a drink. “Since you don’t wanna give a nigga your phone number,” he said with a show-stopping smile. 

You rolled your eyes. “Why do you want my number?” You asked. You drank the water bottle at his nudging.

“So I can hear that sexy ass voice in my ear,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes playfully and played with the paper around the water bottle. “You’re so bad,” you said. 

He shrugged his shoulders, calling your name like he was savoring the taste of it. “I’m still right though. I want to keep talking to you,” he said.

You could practically feel your friends on your shoulders like little devils pushing you to give him your number. What harm could it do? You held out your hand for his phone. He dug it out of his pocket and handed it to you.

His total focus on you while you entered your number was unnerving. You couldn’t help giggling as you put in your number. He reached out and trailed a finger down your arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. You messed up on a number and giggled in his direction.

“You’re distracting me,” you said. 

“Yeah? Good. But make sure that number right,” he said. He peeked across the screen as you backspaced and entered your number correctly. 

He smelled like his cologne, sweat, and whatever drink he had throughout the night. You handed his phone back to him. You fanned yourself with your clutch while he looked at his phone. 

He smiled and tapped a few times. “There, now you have my number,” he said. 

The butterflies returned to your stomach the longer you spent in his presence. He liked that he could fluster you so easily and tried his damndest to keep doing so. Your cheeks ached from all the smiling you did. 

You talked more about yourself and your friends and why you came to the D.R. He told you that he was out here celebrating for his friend’s wedding. The wedding had already passed, cheaper during the week, so they were spending the weekend celebrating with friends.

“It’s nice of you all to come out here and celebrate with them,” you said. Stunna turned his head to the side, he didn’t hear you. The music seemed to get louder and even though you yelled, he couldn’t hear you.

Stunna scooted closer to you and yelled in your ear. “Wanna go outside?” 

You looked at him and nodded. You couldn’t hear shit, but you were pretty sure you could hear your friends whooping for joy as Stunna took your hand and led you outside of the club.

Your ears popped as you reached the quiet interior of the lobby. There was a stark contrast between the two rooms and your ears rung. You shook your head, trying to clear the ringing. Stunna did the same, shaking his shoulders too for good measure.

Being out in the lobby, the base temperature felt like frost at the top of a mountain. You shivered as it highlighted buckets of sweat rolling down your spine and between your breasts. 

A drop of sweat rolled down Stunna’s arm and you followed the movement as it trailed down a prominent vein. Stunna still held your hand and you walked out of the resort, past the open pool that shimmered with light from nearby lamps. 

You walked along the concrete pathways heading down to the beach. Before you stepped onto the sand, you leaned down and took off your wedges. Stunna took off his boots, and rolled up his pants legs. 

“Looks like I was smart to wear a dress,” you said and giggled at him. 

“Damn smart. I’m glad you did. Your body in that dress, hmm,’ he said and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Stop,” you chuckled and shook your head. He was incorrigible. 

“Naw, I can’t. Your ass looks amazing. Thighs I just wanna squeeze. Lips I wanna kiss,” he said. He stood up to his full height and you stared at him.

Soft moonlight fell over his features on one side of his face. The lamps gave a warm glow on the other side. He was light, soaking it all up and reflecting it back out to seem like he had an inner glow. 

You sighed, staring at this work of art before you. You wanted to pinch yourself. You stepped closer but Stunna only smiled, grabbed your hand, and you took off down the beach. You spent time walking up and down, warm sand digging between your toes. 

You talked more, learning about him and how much he loved to read. You shared that passion and spoke about books you’ve read and favorite authors. He took your recommendations seriously, pulling out his phone to add books to a list on his phone. 

“Come back to my room,” he said.

You shook your head. “Won’t your friends be looking for you?” 

“Naw. I got my own room. I ain’t sharing shit with them nasty niggas,” he said.

You laughed, moving away from him as the sand made you trip up. Stunna pulled you back to his side. “See, yo clumsy ass need somewhere to sit. Come sit in my room,” he said. 

You were back in the same position from earlier when he rescued you from falling. He gripped your elbows, standing close enough to lick, and your hands were on his arms. He was too close, surrounding you with him. You couldn’t think past him. When you looked up, all you saw was him. 

You waited to feel panicked and shaky. To warn you to step away and flee from him. It never came. “If I go back to your room, I doubt we’ll just be sitting,” you said.

“I never said that. That’s yo nasty mind,” he said. He licked his lips. “But I like the way you think. You wanna come sit in my lap?” 

There were no reservations. No warning bells in your head. No screeches of noise or racing thoughts to prevent you from biting your lip and nodding. From grabbing his hand and watching each other as you left the beach and headed inside. 

You didn’t talk as you leaned against one another in the elevator. He placed a kiss to your head and you melted even further into him. The elevator softly dinged and the doors opened to his floor. He stayed in the building next to your room. You were sort of relieved. Had he stayed in the same building or even on the same floor, it would have been too perfect. Too obviously a set up by God or whoever was out there listening. 

Stunna swiped his keycard once he got to his room and opened the door. You walked inside the cool room and turned on lights. 

He had a suitcase on the couch of his suite, open to reveal some clothes he packed. He had shoes strewn about but for the most part, he was a clean guest. He closed the door and you turned to look at him. 

You placed your shoes on the ground next to his, marveling at the contrast between your sizes. It looked oddly perfect sitting side by side. You ignored that runaway thought as you quickly texted your friends that you would be late to the room. It was a good chance to not wait up for you at all if this night went how you were expecting.

Stunna watched you place your clutch on the TV stand. He moved about the room, cleaning up but it wasn’t necessary. Just bags and bottles of water that were on the nightstand. 

“I’ll wash off this sand,” you told him. 

“I’ll go after you. Take your time,” he said.

Take your time, yeah right. If you took long enough, you would summon your anxiety like an ancient deity out for your blood. You quickly went to the bathroom and freshened up a little, running the bath to clean off your feet. You didn’t even look at yourself in the mirror. If you did, you would chicken out. 

You didn’t want to chicken out. You wanted a wild story. A story to tuck in your heart and bring out as the years passed and you lived your life. A story that you held on to when you got older and your partying days was nearing its end. 

When you left the bathroom, Stunna had lowered the lights to make it more intimate and softer. He opened the curtains revealing a balcony that overlooked the ocean. He stood outside, twisting caps off of water bottles. He also had a bottle of Hennesy on the small table outside. 

You approached and he smiled when you did. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

He went to the bathroom to clean off the sand. You stepped out fully and enjoyed the breeze kissing your skin. You sipped some of the Hennessy, enjoying that sweet burn. The ocean waves crashed against the shore but from this height, you saw further than you did in your room. 

Few stars were able to wink in and out behind dark clouds in the sky. The half moon shone down onto the beach and over the resort. Stunna returned and wrapped his hands around your waist, leaning against you. 

He grabbed the cup from your hands and finished the rest. He kissed his way along your exposed neck, sending shivers down your spine. You sighed and relaxed into him. He made no move to do anything else, no roaming hands or nasty words. 

“You are so gorgeous,” he said.

You turned in his arms and faced him. “I’m done talking. Kiss me,” you said.

He grinned, flashing those damn golds that have been driving you crazy all night. “You sure?”

You wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him closer before you lost your nerve. You finally tasted him, tasted the bite of Hennessy on his lips. His lips were warm and wet and his tongue dived into your mouth. You moaned as he explored, running his tongue along yours and along your teeth. 

Stunna’s hands gripped your arms and moved lower, cupping your ass and squeezing tight. You growled from how good it felt. How wonderful it felt to be in his arms. Stunna hissed in between his kisses, like you were both on fire but he was willing to risk kissing you through the flames.

Your back was against the railing and he pushed into you, rubbing his erection against your tummy. You moaned. 

“Keep moaning like that and I won’t be able to control myself,” he said against your lips. You opened your eyes to look at him. 

“Don’t control yourself,” you said. 

He laughed and licked his lips. He sat down in the closest chair and pulled you into his lap. You straddled him, wobbling a bit since his stance was so wide. Your legs draped on the outside of his and he spread his legs so that he could spread you wider. 

His hands searched under your dress so that he could cup your ass directly. Dig those skillful fingers into the meat of your ass. He spanked one cheek and you jerked in his lap, your pussy rubbing against the fabric of his jeans. 

He growled, fingers seeking your wet heat. When he found your clit, he had no mercy. He began to run his thumb around the sensitive nub. You scooted higher on his lap, needing the friction of his jeans to help speed your arousal along. Not that you really needed it. You were already dripping for him. 

“Mm, so wet. You always sit your pretty ass on strangers and let them finger your pussy?” He asked around kissing you. 

“N-No,” you moaned. 

He suckled on your bottom lip and your pussy throbbed. He was working some type of magic between your legs. Some type of spell that threatened to rip you into pieces. 

“No? You telling me that this is all for me?” He asked. “I get to be the one to play with you?” 

“Yess,” you sighed against his lips. 

“Then I should feel special that you’re soaking my fingers already and I’ve yet to feel you?” 

“Shit,” you sighed. Your arms were wrapped completely around his neck, holding onto him and keeping him close. 

He kissed your neck, licking it, while his fingers finally dipped into your entrance. You shook with a long moan, throwing your head back as pleasure rolled through you in cascading waves. 

“Nasty little girl, aren’t you?” He asked. 

“N-No,” you whined. 

He chuckled. “You letting me play with your pussy. And it feels so good gripping my fingers. Bad little girl,” he growled against your throat. 

His other hand snaked up your body until he gripped your throat. Your eyes rolled to the back as he squeezed with force. He brought your head closer so that your foreheads were touching. 

His fingers increased in pressure and he drove them into you. Effectively fucking you with his fingers. “Say you’re a bad girl,” he said. 

Your breathing was heavy and slow, not pumping enough oxygen into your brain. Or perhaps it was him. Perhaps he was some type of demon, stealing the oxygen from your lungs as your orgasm swam to the surface. 

You couldn’t make your words work. The words stuck to the roof of your mouth like peanut butter. Your mouth moved, working double time as he stuck two fingers inside and rolled your clit with his thumb.

“Say it if you wanna cum,” he said.

“I wanna,” you whined. 

“You wanna what?” He asked. “Shit, you’re so fucking wet. Can’t wait to taste you. Do you taste as sweet as you look?” 

You whined and gyrated your hips. Why couldn’t you say anything? Why couldn’t your mouth work to speak? 

“I wanna cum,” you finally choked out. You leaned your head back. He allowed you to do so and he kissed your neck around his fingers, dipping low to kiss your chest and just above your breasts. 

“Say you’re a bad girl if you wanna cum,” he demanded. 

You were close. Incredibly close. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you moaned.

“I’m waiting,” he whispered against your skin. Blowing air across your chest, around the pools of saliva he left on your skin. 

“I’m bad. I’m a bad girl,” you moaned.

“So bad,” he agreed.

“So bad. You make me feel so good,” you moaned. 

His fingers never stopped pumping into you. Your legs squeezed his and your eyes shut as you cried with your orgasm. Stunna continued to pump his fingers as you came, cooing against your skin. 

“So pretty when you cum,” he said. When you were done and slumped against him, he withdrew his fingers. Shivers still wracked your body. He moaned while he suckled on his fingers, licking up your essence.

You watched him as he closed his eyes and savored your taste. You licked your lips watching him. He cleaned his fingers and gave you a wink. “You okay?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I wanna taste you too,” you said. 

He grinned. “Get on your knees,” he said. You slid off of his lap with a lopsided smile. The balcony floor wasn’t entirely comfortable, but you were too focused on him unzipping his pants. He released himself from his pants and briefs. 

Your eyes widened. You couldn’t possibly fit the whole thing in your mouth?! 

Stunna chuckled and moved to put his dick away but you gripped his thighs. “I said, I want to taste you too.” You glanced at him as you took him into your mouth. He gave you an impressed smirk, licking his lips at the look of you taking him deep within your mouth.

You couldn’t fit all of him like you thought. But you got enough of him down. You hoped that your inexperience didn’t show. You’ve sucked dicks before but he was probably used to throat goats. Used to women taking him down to the base, fondling his balls, or knowing what the fuck to do.

You only knew that you wanted to keep going. Wanted to please him. You drooled on him and released him to get some air. Using both hands, you twisted his long shaft and then suckled the head of his dick back into your mouth.

His eyes opened and closed, back bowing off of the chair, as he groaned. His hand palmed your head and pushed you down on his dick, pushing you past your limit until you choked. He eased up, but you took him how he wanted. Your saliva helped your hands twist around his dick and coat his tip.

“Gahh damn. Fuckin’ nasty,” he groaned. You made a pleased sound in the back of your throat and continued to take him deeper and faster. Your sloppy, wet suckling was loud in the quiet air. 

You slurped him, drops of precum hitting your tongue. You suckled him all down, glancing at him periodically to see the ecstasy on his face. The pleasure you were bringing him. 

“Gonna bust,” he groaned.

“Wanna taste,” you said around his dick. 

His breathing turned choppy before he tensed. You felt his orgasm travel up his shaft before he moaned, releasing his cum in your mouth. You continued to milk him for every drop you could. You swallowed him all down. 

He pushed at your shoulders to stop, sounds escaping him that you never heard from a man. “Too good,” he panted.

You grinned. You wiped at the corners of your mouth. “You’re dangerous,” he said.

You blinked up innocently at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said. 

His eyebrows raised and he chuckled, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Remember you said that,” he said. 

He scooted the chair back and stood up, helping you to your feet. He pushed you into the room and closed the balcony door, leaving behind a tiny crack to still let in the breeze from the ocean. 

He unzipped your dress and dropped it to the floor, sighing at the look of your body. You never felt so cherished during sex. You weren’t expecting love and all that crap whenever you took someone to bed. It was more like an overwhelming itch that needed to be scratched.

After the deed, your anxiety returned with a vengeance and you were the first out of the door. No one wanted to deal with an anxious mess after getting off. 

With Stunna, there was none of that usual nervousness or shyness holding you back. You just wanted him. 

Your soaked panties went next. He knelt down, doing all the work of removing it. He kissed along your spine and back, the globes of your ass, and the back of your thighs. You shivered at the attention. The care with which he removed your panties.

He stood back up and unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts. He eagerly grabbed them from behind and rolled your nipples between his fingers. He pulled you until you leaned back against him.

“Can’t wait to get these in my mouth. I wanna be a gentleman, but fuck. I just want to break you,” he said.

A vicious tingle spread around your thighs. “I never asked you to be a gentleman,” you said.

He chuckled. “Fair, but I don’t wanna scare you away,” he said. 

“I’m a big girl. I can use my words when I need to,” you said.

“Yeah? Get on the bed then. Hands and knees, bad girl,” he said. He smacked your ass, hard and you did as instructed. You climbed into his bed and got on your hands and knees. 

You were too far away however. He grabbed your hips roughly and pulled you to the edge of the bed. He gripped himself and shoved into your inviting pussy with one savage thrust. His grip on your hip prevented you from escaping. You tried to lean forward, but he held you in place.

He pressed on your back until your chest was against the bed. Your ass was high in the air, giving him total access to you. He smacked your ass. 

“You been talkin’ mad shit all night,” he said. He began to stroke, delivering hard and long thrusts that immediately found your G-spot.

“Oh shit!” You cried out. 

“That’s my shit.” You heard the pleased grin in his tone. How did he find it so fast? 

He continued to stroke, hitting your sweet spot over and over with military precision. He smacked your ass with one hand while the other kept a firm grip. “You ain’t so bold now. A little dick shuts you up?” He asked. 

You couldn’t speak. He was slamming into you so hard, just the way you always dreamt of. It brought tears to your eyes. Most guys were afraid to be rough. Afraid of catching a case once you asked them to go a little deeper or stroke a little harder. 

Not Stunna. He drove into you, seeking something you couldn’t name. It didn’t take long before you were convulsing, shaking on his dick. 

“Talk to me, then. Say somethin’ else,” he said.

“Achgg,” you moaned, eyes rolling. 

Stunna continued to work himself inside of you. His dick speared you. Nearly split you in half. You bounced back on his dick, giving as much as you got. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Don’t let me stand in your way. You take what you need from me,” he said. 

Wet, smacking noises filled the room. The sound of your combined fucking pushed another orgasm to the surface. Your ass clapped on his thighs. Your screams were sure to draw the attention of his neighbors. 

He leaned forward and wrapped his hands around your throat. “Fuuh,” you moaned.

Both of you matched each other’s intensity. He pulled you by your throat to swallow every long inch of him. Your desperate thrusts sounded like thunder against his skin. 

“Goh, goh, fuh,” you chanted in rapid succession. 

“So good, so good. Pussy feel so good. You were made to take this dick, weren’t you? You were made for it,” he groaned. 

Your hands feebly held onto the bed in front of you but there was no use. This was so intense and passionate that your orgasm crushed you into a tiny ball and flung you into a tornado. You screamed until you were hoarse. Drool leaked out of your mouth with your whiny cries. 

Stunna continued to hold your throat and pound, chasing his own climax. “Greedy ass. Fuck, you take me so well,” he groaned. 

You were shaking as you rode out your orgasm. As soon as you ended, he began. He flooded your pussy with his cum, roaring like an animal as he climaxed. Your body twitched and spasmed on his dick. His dick hit something deep inside, too deep to know what. But it hit a natural reset. 

Stunna let go of your throat and held onto your hips to keep from falling on top of you. You both panted, harsh breaths filling the room. You sniffled as you recovered, brain quiet for once. 

Stunna slipped out of you and he leaned back to watch his cum slip out. He panted and his breaths fell across your ass and pussy. 

“Fuck,” he said. 

You agreed. You never felt something like that before. Possessed. Owned. It was a feeling you would spend your entire life trying to find again. Would you be able to? 

Both of you were too wobbly to move. As if with your dual climaxes, you had entered a new plane of existence. Being back in the real world sucked. It seemed foreign. You were changed by the experience so why hadn’t the world changed? 

Stunna left to go to the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth. You cried at the sensation. “Shh, shh, I got you,” he said.

The rough fucking was everything you needed but you were fucking sore. You ached. It felt too damn good for you to complain though. He gently cleaned you up, wiping you down and wiping off some of the sweat. 

You curled up into a ball, trying to will yourself to move. To get dressed and make your escape. You felt like the sex police would descend from the ceiling and arrest you for upsetting the natural law of the universe. 

You couldn’t move. You felt too raw, too exposed. You focused on your breathing, on drawing air in and then out. Stunna returned from the bathroom and you cringed at the picture you must make.

“I’ll leave just as soon as my legs work,” you mumbled. 

Stunna chuckled. “Can you stay?” He sat on the bed in front of you. You were too afraid to look in his eyes. You didn’t know if you were over exaggerating the moment. You wouldn’t be able to bear it if you felt like your world tilted on its axis while it was just Friday night to him. 

Stunna laid down on the bed and lifted your chin with his fingers. “Please, stay,” he whispered.

His eyes swirled with emotion. As if the moment you left, this would all disappear from memory. Until he wasn’t sure if he dreamt this or it was real. It only mirrored what you were feeling so you nodded and he grinned. “What you need?” 

For your skin to feel like it wasn't going to slough off the moment you unfurled. You looked at him with wide eyes. He nodded as if he understood the turmoil inside of you. He stood up and then came around to lay behind you. His hands came around your arms and knees, pulling you into the heat of his body.

You sighed. Exactly what you needed. He pulled the covers over you, wrapping you in a tiny cocoon of heat. You drifted off to the sound of his quiet breathing. The last thing you felt was a tiny kiss behind your ear. 

In the morning, you yawned and stretched. Stunna was asleep next to you. Somehow, you were laying properly in the bed, head on a pillow and his hand draped across your tummy. You watched him in the early morning light. 

This was dangerous. Ludicrous. It was crazy to feel this type of connection with someone else. Someone so obviously built for you yet it couldn’t last. Tomorrow you were flying back home. On Monday, it was back to classes. 

After taking a peek at the edge of the universe, how did you go back to normal? How did you carry on and keep this in your memory bank? 

You had to get out. You lifted his hand to scoot away from him. Away from the oppressive heat that made sweat pool behind your knees. 

Stunna groaned and sniffed, pulling you back against his side. “Where you think you going?” He asked. 

You giggled. “Back to my suite,” you said. 

“You was gonna sneak out? That’s cold,” he said. His deep voice was rough from sleep and it made your pussy flutter. Really? After all that last night, she was still ready to go?!

“Sneak is such an ugly word.” You sighed as he finally cracked one eye open and looked at you.

“At least let me get you breakfast. You can get changed and meet me right back here,” he said.

You laughed. “What if I have plans?” You asked.

“You do. With me,” he said. 

You shook your head. “You’re crazy.” 

He grabbed your hand and linked your fingers together. Your hands were perfect against each other, skin tones perfectly aligned. 

“Please? Text your friends and tell them you’re safe. When do you leave?” He asked.

“Tomorrow,” you said.

“See? Give me one last day until we can figure out when we’ll see each other again.” 

You sighed. You couldn’t say no to that face. Those eyes. You bit your lip and nodded. He grinned, peppering you with kisses all over your face. 

He ordered room service and ate you out before it came up. He moaned and suckled while he did so, grinding his hips into the bed like he wanted to bury his face into your pussy forever. 

When the food arrived, you talked and ate and laughed, sharing more details about yourself but not personal information like the fact that you were in school or where he was working. You talked through safe subjects but all the information you gathered about him, you held it close to your heart. 

Each passing moment spent with him carved out a section of your heart and replaced it with a gorgeous, sexy man named Stunna. You did make it back to your room where your friends gushed over your night. You still had no words but you squealed while you showered and begged their forgiveness while you planned to spend the day with Stunna. 

They encouraged you, admitting that in a move that surprised no one, they found their way to their own flavor of the day. They agreed to come back to the room at a decent hour to pack away their shit and figure out their flight. 

You spent the rest of the day with Stunna, outside of his suite, walking around the resort. It had a small gambling area where he tried to show you how to play poker. He was a very sweet teacher, but you couldn’t make heads nor tails of the rules. You were more of a spades player, but good luck finding that shit here. 

You shared desserts and walked along the beach, sitting in the sand in between his legs and talking some more. Stunna stole kisses throughout the day, unwilling to leave your lips for the second it took to breathe and join back together. 

As night fell, you ate dinner with him and found your way back to his room where you slowly peeled each other’s clothes off. Where you feasted your eyes on his skin. Gasped as he entered you once more and you gave each other untold amounts of pleasure.

Where he held you like he loved you but fucked you like you stole something from him. You came, looking into his molten brown eyes, nuzzling your cheek against the stubble on his chin. He came with your legs pinned to the mattress and his dick threatening to fuck you into the mattress, the floor, and the next floor down. 

You kissed and cuddled while you talked about talking to him every day. He entered you again while you were stubborn, saying you might be busy. 

“Naw, this shit belong to me now,” he said while he thrusted into you for the…third time that night? Fourth? Who kept count while his delicious dick was inside you and you felt whole again? Complete. 

“It belongs to me,” you said.

He grinned and bit your nipple, then licked away the sting. He continued to nibble across delicate skin, moaning when he found your other nipple and tugged with his teeth. You hissed and your back curved, giving him all the access he wanted. 

“Do we have a problem?” He asked.

“Do we?” You countered.

He grinned and then slipped out of you, only to hike one of your legs up in the air. He reentered you from the side, slamming into you until you were crying and shaking on his dick, screaming out his name. 

“Stay talkin’ shit,” he groaned as he filled you up once more.

Saying goodbye to him was the hardest shit you ever had to do. It was like you both knew that even with talking every day, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as lying next to him and feeling him take up space in the room, in your heart, in your pussy. 

He kept tugging you back for one more kiss, asking if he could walk you to your room. You were blinking back tears. You didn’t want to leave him. But you couldn’t stay either. Both of you had places to be, lives to get back to. 

He leaned in the doorframe, holding your hand and not letting you leave. You smiled. “Stunna, you have to let go.” 

“I’on want to,” he said.

“It’s not forever,” you said, trying to sound hopeful. Your words only sounded sad. He sighed and rubbed his head on his arm. 

“I know. I know.” 

He pulled you close to him, capturing your lips with a devastating kiss. You licked his lips, committing the taste and smell of him to memory. “Not forever,” he said.

“Not forever.” 

You turned and snatched your hand. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have the strength to leave. A cold numbness seeped into your bones as you made the trek to your suite. Stella and Angela commented on how melancholy you seemed.

How could you explain it? That you possibly found your soulmate in Punta Cana and had to leave him here? To be happy with texts and phone calls? Poor substitutes to hugging him, cuddling him, kissing him, fucking him? 

You told them that you were all fucked out to explain it now. Ask you in a week. When your heart wasn’t broken and the pain was less intense. Less potent. 

They left you alone to wallow while you all packed up your things and souvenirs. The ride back home was uneventful. You weren’t up to the usual plane shenanigans of talking and comparing in-flight meals. You didn’t feel like eating at all. 

You texted Stunna that you arrived safely and even spoke to him on the phone. But it only hurt worse. “C’mon, we said not forever,” he said. 

The bastard was right though. Hearing his voice in your ear helped but it wasn’t the same.

“Not forever. I just want you here,” you said.

“I know. We did a few things backward, but when we’re comfortable, we’ll arrange something,” he said. 

You talked until you absolutely had to go to sleep to get ready for class. Luckily, your first class of the day was in the afternoon. You had a chance to recover from the plane ride and time difference.

Everything was dull. The California sun was dull. The campus was boring. Students felt like aliens to you, playing and existing in a world that ended for you back in Punta Cana in Stunna’s arms. 

You sighed, not for the hundredth time, as you dragged your carcass across campus and to your class. Settling into your literature class, you didn’t share this with Stella and Angela. You were left to look out of the window, mind far, far away.

Your pen tapped on the desk, picturing that accidental bump into Stunna over and over again. Act of fate? Accident? How could you meet the love of your life only for you to be ripped away from him and planted back into your normal life like nothing was wrong? 

The door opened and you assumed your teacher came through. Whatever.

“Sorry, I’m late. Not used to the campus yet.”

Your head whipped around and there he was. Stunna stood at the front of the class wearing a deep brown sweater over chocolate colored pants. The sleeves were rolled up revealing his smooth forearms. 

He wrote his name on the whiteboard and your heart seized in your chest. Panic made your heart pound against your rib cage, practically screaming to be let out. You sunk in your seat. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod.

Stunna turned around and smiled at the class. When his eyes found yours, his jaw dropped and he stared. He stared and stared and you didn’t know what he was thinking or what he was going to do.

He cleared his throat and smiled at the class, introducing his real name. Not that you thought Stunna was his real name, but it was the name he usually went by. His eyes kept returning to yours.

You…slept with your college professor. Your life was over. Ruined. How the hell could you fall in love with your professor? And what the hell were you going to do now?

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 2 | Part 3

[silassinclair]

hiiii💙💙💙

i just have a request about Maddox but i want to start with saying english is not my first language and secondly i LOVE your writings, they are sooo good like i just read them again and again and again......

so about my request, its like a story but i just hope you will understand what im trying say

So darling and him while running away from the law Maddox face some other outlaws or having a duel he gets shot, some bad wounds or whatever and darling has no choice but runaway. Before running away darling says that she loves him and will wait for him, something like that.

After two years darling and Maddox meet again (can be when he is leaving a saloon or when he is stealong from the people on the road who is just moving from town to another town) Darling doing really great, she has a small but cute house, she has a great job paying her greatly BUT darling carrying a child

BIG SUPRISE its his child

Yes!

When darling was runing away she was pregnant but didnt tell him cuz she was afraid of his reaction

Anyway him and darling talk about what happened after she runaway, how she manages to live, about the child

so the thing is how he will react about all of this, i mean he has a child and a cute house he can live with darling but he has to run from the laws. Would he somehow live with darling or will he take darling and his child with him and keep runing

I know its long but i tried so hard to make it short and i hope you undertand it AND if you want you can ignore it

💙🤍 I LOVE YOU 💙🤍

UWWAAHH THIS IS SO CUTE <3 I’m about to cook so hard with this one ya’ll aren’t ready 🥶

Masterlist Here!!

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Long Lost Lover Reader

CW// Pregnancy, Gun Violence, Blood, Suicide Mention, Maddox kills pedophiles, Pedophilic comments

“Shhh! Just stop! Stop talking!” Y/n wept as her s/c hand put pressure over Maddox’s oozing bullet wound. Her skin was stained with his crimson blood. The whole world was collapsing down on her. Maddox, her husband, was dying. He was losing so much blood and those damn bounty hunters were getting closer.

Coming to this town was a mistake. It was a fucking trap and they walked right into it. It was a false rumor spread to lure Maddox to the bank. It was supposed to be unguarded; and instead of cash and gold in the vault there was a lethal group of bounty hunters unloading their bullets in a barrage right at Maddox.

The masked outlaw coughed, hacking up some blood. Y/n and Maddox were lucky to get away. Using all her strength she pulled his body into a neighboring saloon and hid with him behind the bar. The outlaw's tearing brown eyes looked into Y/n’s with a mixture of emotion. Adoration and despair. Because he knew this will be the last time will ever see her again.

“Sweetheart, princess please look at me..” He utters. Y/n can barely hear him over the gunshots and screams from around. But her ears are honed to only listen to his voice at the moment. He is all she sees and hears.

“Untie my bandana… Use it to pack the wound.” The paling man says.

Her eyes widen at his request. Her and Maddox have been in so many life or death situations. All of them they have escaped narrowly. Maddox has had mortal wounds, he’s bled countless times over the years. But never, never has he taken that bandana off. Even when they kissed he would tell her to shut her eyes and she would obey, respecting his privacy. When they made love the lights would be off or she would be blindfolded. His face was a mystery that she always wanted to solve.

She imagined the say he showed her his face they would be watching a sunset. Or maybe laying underneath the star in a romantic setting. But now… It’s different. She doesn't want to see him. Not now, not like this. He was dying and this was a desperate attempt to extend his life. This was the end.

“Maddox…” Y/n sniffles. Her vision blurs as tears cascade down her cheeks. She knows this is the end for them. She can feel it.

The woman’s hands go behind his head as she shakily unties the burgundy bandana. And when she takes it off what she sees has her crying even harder.

He’s gorgeous. This is the face of her husband.

“Why Maddox? Why does the first time I have to see you also have to be the last?” Her voice cracks as she stuffs the wound with the bandana.

He smiles and for the first time she can see it. His cracked lips, stubble of facial hair, his crooked nose from being broken so many times, and the scar above his top lip.

“I love ya’ Y/n.” Is all he says in reply. His hand comes up to cradle her cheek. “I need you to do one last thing for me..” He takes her hands in his one hand as the other holds the cloth to his wound.

“Anything… I’ll do anything for you.”

“Run far away baby… Run away from here and don’t look back. Don’t come back for me.” Maddox peeks over top the bar counter they’re and sees the bounty hunters about to enter the saloon they’re hiding in.

Y/n bites her lip as she shakes her head back and forth. “I’m not leaving you! I can’t! You can’t die, I need you! You’re..”

Y/n freezes. She wants to say it but she can’t. Not now, not when he’s going to die.

“You’re going to be a Father.”

“Y/n.” Maddox smiles. “Jasper should be outside. Get on him and get outta this town.” He brings his lips to her hand, kissing her blood stained skin.

The sobbing woman can’t bring herself to move away from him. If she leaves she will never see him again. But she has to leave, she has to survive and save their baby. It’s what he would want.

“I love you.” Y/n pulls him into a passionate kiss. One which he returns as he tries not to wince in pain.

Maddox is the first to pull away for the first time. And it only breaks her heart even more.

“Now go princess… Go live ya’ life to the fullest. And I’m… I’m sorry for killin’ your old man back then…”

Y/n stands up silently and nods. So after a full year he finally apologizes. Honestly, Y/n forgave him long ago. Was it Stockholm syndrome? Was it love? It didn't matter, her love for Maddox was true. But now he was dying... If she turns around and faces him now she’ll never want to leave.

Without facing him she lets her tears fall and hands form fists, “Goodbye Maddox. And I forgave you long ago. Back when I fell in love with you for the first time.”

She runs to the back of the saloon and leaves out the back entrance. Once the woman is outside she hears shouts from inside, along with gunfire.

“NOOO!” She screams and clenches her hair in her fists. Her vocal cords strain from her guttural scream. The pain of losing Maddox feels unbearable. She can’t feel her legs, so she drops to the dirt ground. All she can do is cry and curl up alone. The trotting sound of a horse is heard from above. Looking up she sees Jasper, Maddox’s loyal horse and best friend.

“Jasper…” She weeps. The horse looks down at his owners lover with sympathy behind his dark eyes. The animal can tell she’s in pain. He neighs and uses his nose to nudge her.

“L-Let’s go bud.” Y/n says and stands up from the ground. She gets on Jasper’s saddle and rides out of town, leaving behind the painful memories of losing Maddox. The ring on her finger has never felt so heavy.

"I help! Rosie help Mommy!" A small two year old girl says as her chubby little hands reach out towards Y/n who is carrying a pail of milk.

Y/n Graves; widow and single Mother, smiles down at her daughter. When she lost the love of her life she gave birth to a new meaning to go on. When Maddox died Y/n felt alone. She contemplated ending the pain permanently but she knew she could never do that to him and their baby. So she lived, and thank the lord she did.

The past two years were hard. Being pregnant, working a job, finding a place to live, and raising a newborn all by herself. Life was hard but that's just how it is. Being a Mother is a sacrifice that Y/n took the day she decided to keep on living after Maddox's death.

Now she has a beautiful baby girl. And her resemblance to him brought tears to the Mother's eyes.

She has his dark brown hair that almost looks black and his brown eyes that Y/n would find herself lost in. At the young age of two and a half Rosie even knew how to speak and understand English. She has her Mother's smarts and her Daddy's looks.

Rosie was a gift from Maddox, a parting gift so she wouldn't have to be alone anymore. Just thinking about how she almost killed herself and Rosie destroyed Y/n. The thoughts she had during those dark times were regrettable. She hates herself for possibly thinking such things.

"Mommy? Why sad?"

Y/n blinks a few times and doesn't even realize she was crying. Rosie tugs on her Mother's dress, big brown doe eyes creased with worry. Giggling, she wipes her tears and puts the heavy pail down. She reaches for her daughter and picks her up and holds her instead.

"Because you look just like your Daddy princess. You remind me of him and I miss him a lot." Y/n kisses Rosie's cheeks, making the little girl squeal and kick her little legs.

"Now let's finish up our chores yeah? We need to get this milk to a cool place." Y/n reaches down and grabs the pail to take it to the cellar.

"I carry it Mommy!" Rosie pouts and reaches her arms towards the pail in Y/n's hand. But the woman only laughs softly at her daughter's antics.

"It's too heavy for you baby. Besides, princesses don't do chores like this yet. Rosie's only job for now is too behave and listen to Mommy."

The little girl pauses and leans her head on her Mother's shoulder. "Okay.." She mumbles.

Sensing her daughter's sadness Y/n decides to compromise. "How about we go into town and get ice cream?"

In an instant the little girl perks up. "Really?!" She says in her baby accent; unable to pronounce the 'R' well and instead it coming out more as a 'W'.

"Yes princess. You've been good all this week so you deserve a treat."

Y/n finishes her work in the cellar with the help of her daughter. Who really was just following her around and pointing at stuff, asking what each thing was. But now that everything was done Y/n rode into town on Jasper and her daughter on her lap.

It wasn't often that the single Mother came into town. Every time she was there she could feel the stares on her and her daughter when she did bring her. And she knew why. She has a daughter yet no husband. Y/n knows what the townspeople say behind her back. Calling her a whore, trollop, and an ex prostitute. But nobody knew jack shit about her. They were all making assumptions. They didn't know her life and the pain she's been through.

Not only that but being in town just felt unsafe. The hungry stares of the men made her feel nauseous, which was why she always carried a double barrel shot gun on her back. It was her own way of silently saying "Don't fuck with me and my daughter."

Y/n tugs on the reins a little and Jasper stops in front of the ice cream parlor. She gets off of Jasper and little Rosie clings to her Mother's back as she fastens the reins to the wooden pole.

"We won't be long bud. Come on princess, let's go."

Y/n pets Jasper on the head before holding her daughters hand and taking her into the parlor. Once inside the conversation around them immediately dies down as all the patron's eyes are on Y/n and her daughter; who goes to hide behind her Mother's leg.

"Why staring Mommy?" The little girl asks. Y/n pats her hair and answers back with a reassuring smile.

"They just think your dress is pretty and can't help but look at it."

Rosie grins and giggles, her cheeks pinkening with blush.

"Now let's go get ice cream yeah? What flavor do you want?"

"Strawberry!"

Since we're in town I may as well grab a few things so I won't have to come back. After finishing our ice cream I take Rosie with me to the hardware store across the street. While in there I grab a few things from the shelves. Life shot gun shells, a new steel file, and soap.

I go up to the clerk and put my things on the counter. The old man looks at me with his usual unimpressed look, just like how any other person in this miserable town looks at me.

"Will this be all?" He asks. I nod silently and hand him the appropriate amount of cash. After bagging my things he hands me my change and I grab the paper bag.

"Come on Rosie, let's go." I say and look down by my side at Rosie. But instead of my daughter I see the hardwood floor. My heart drops to my feet.

"Rosie?" I say again and perk up, looking around the store and down the aisles. Briskly walking to the store clerk I place my things back on the counter.

"Can you watch my bag? I need to find my daughter."

The old man nods with a grunt and opens up a newspaper. I ignore his careless attitude and I practically search the whole store for Rosie. Where the hell did she go? She was right next to me! I took my eyes off her for one second and this is what happens to me? I'm a horrible Mother.

Running outside the store I approach the first person I see. A blonde woman with a green dress and matching lace parasol.

"Excuse me? Have you seen my daughter? She's about this tall and has dark brown hair. She's also wearing a white dress." My words pour out of my mouth so fast that even I can barely understand what I'm saying. But the woman only shrugs.

"I do not know. Maybe you should keep a better eye on your child and you never would have lost her."

I glare at the prissy bitch and shoulder check her as I strut past her to ask the next person if they have seen Rosie.

"I can already see the potential in her Davis. Look at those beady little eyes. She'll be beggin' to suck cock in no time."

Rosie is shaking in fear, the poor girl has no idea what's going on. One minute she was in the hardware store looking at shiny things on the shelf, the next a hand was clamped over her mouth and she was being dragged outside the back entrance. She tried to scream but the hand over her mouth was too big. She tried to fight but her body was too small and weak.

There are three men standing above her. What they are talking about? She doesn't know. But her Mother taught her that strangers were dangerous. So their intentions were bad; these men were bad news. They had her tied up and gagged, her shivering body laid curled up on the ground as she silently sniffled.

"We'll take her to Alabama. She'll go for a hefty price there. I know a guy who likes em' younger." One of the men says. The same man hacks up mucus and spits in out on the ground right next to Rosie. Making the girl whine and cry even more.

"Quit your fuckin' cryin' or I oughta' give ya' somethin' to cry bout'" The scrawniest man of the group says. But his loud voice only makes the two year old cry more.

"Fucking hell, people will hear if she keeps this shit up. Someone hit her in the back of the head an' knock her lights out."

"She looks no older than two Marty. That'll kill her you dumb oaf!"

"Then wha do we do?"

The three men bicker back and forth. Arguing about how to silence the little girl. But as the three criminals argue they don't hear the approach of footsteps. It isn't until the girl stops crying that they turn around. A man with his faced covered by a bandana has Rosie in his arms. His brown cowboy hat is tilted low, casting a dark shadow over his eyes.

"Who the fuck are you?! Put her down!" The biggest man of the trio says. He reaches for his gun but the mysterious man tuts and wags his gloved index finger back and forth at the criminal.

"I wouldn't do that if I were ya' big guy." The man holding Rosie says in his smooth, accented southern drawl. The little girl is scared stiff as she clings to the man holding her. She doesn't know what it is about this stranger but he makes her feel safe unlike the three men who made her cry.

"Don't tell us what to do. There's three of us and one of you, we oughta fill you full of lead and piss on your corpse for thinkin' you can FUCK with us!" The scrawny man draws his gun and aims it right at the masked man's head.

Rosie cries and hides her face in the stranger's neck. He rubs her back and reassures her with a gentle coo.

"You'll be okay, just trust me alright? I'll get ya back to ya Momma and Poppa."

Rosie doesn't understand what he said, but she does understand that this stranger is protecting her.

"Keep your eyes closed honey, can you do that for me?"

Rosie shuts her eyes and holds onto him tighter. Beneath his dirty red bandana the man smiles. Then he looks back at the three scum bags in front of him. He heard everything they said about the girl. All of the disgusting things about how she had "potential" and wanting to sell her.

Men like them didn't deserve to live.

"Hand over the brat you fuck-"

The masked man draws his silver revolver in the blink of an eye and cocks back the hammer. He shoots the scrawny man right between the eyes. Rosie cries out at the loud burst of gunfire but he shushes her gently as he cocks back the hammer another two times and shoots the other two men dead before they can even draw their guns or speak. The three bodies lay stark still on the ground. The life from their eyes is gone as blood pools from each of their heads.

"Burn in hell ya' nasty bastards." The mystery man walks away from the scene to go somewhere safer, the little girl still in his arms. She has her hands over her ears because of how loud the three gunshots were. But with a pat on her head from the man she lowers her hands and looks up at him.

"It's over honey. Those bad men won't touch ya' ever again." He says and sits against a tree a little bit outside of town. The little girl sits crisscross applesauce on his lap. Her chubby little hands rest on her thighs as she stares at him.

The man reaches behind her head and unties the rag around her face. Those men treated her like livestock. If not worse. Abducting a little girl and tying her up like cattle? How disgusting. Men like that didn't deserve to see the light of day.

"What's your name little girl?" He asks her. Rosie sniffles and rubs her puffy eyes.

"R-Rosie.." She stutters, still shocked from the whole ordeal.

"Hey now, no need to be scared anymore okay? I won't harm a hair on your head. And your name is really pretty. Matches ya' rosy lil cheeks." He pinches her plush cheek, making the girl smile.

"Name?" Rosie says and pokes the man's chest with a little finger.

"Maddox. Maddox Graves."

Rosie only nods. Maddox can still tell she's scared. So he asks her some questions to get her mind off things.

"How old are you?"

"Two and half."

"You got a family?"

"I have Mommy!"

"Got a Daddy?"

"Mommy said Daddy in heaven."

Maddox sighs when the girl says she doesn't have a Father. Growing up Maddox didn't have a Father figure either. He only had his Mother who worked tooth and nail to provide for him when he was younger. It was a shame she died of tuberculosis. He was only 16 when she passed. And after her death he was born a new man. When his Mother died so did Manuel Gonsalez. And he was reborn Maddox Graves, the west's most feared gunslinger and outlaw.

"My Daddy's in heaven too Rosie. But my Daddy was a bad man, he had it comin' to him."

Rosie looks at Maddox with a sympathetic expression. Though she couldn't see his face she could see his eyes under the shadow of his hat. He seemed... hurt.

"Married?" Rosie asks him. She sees his eyes crease. He's smiling.

"Yeah, to the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Where she?"

"I don't know honey. I'm looking for her. I hope I find her.."

Maddox stiffles a gasp when the little girl suddenly hugs him. Her little arms go around his neck. It's been years since he was last shown any affection. the last person to give him a hug was Y/n. This little girl just had no idea how much her warm embrace meant to the man. He hugs her back and shuts his eyes, letting his years long guard down. Maddox parts from the hug and pats Rosie's head.

Maddox goes to ask the girl another question but the feeling of a cold hard object on the back of his head makes him pause. The outlaw doesn't flinch at the familiar feeling of a barrel of a gun being pressed against his head.

"You have three seconds to get your filthy hands off my little girl." Y/n growls out, her finger on the trigger of her double barrel shotgun. But Maddox feels his heart skip a beat when he hears the little girl's Mother's voice. How badly he wants to turn around and confirm his suspicion. But the slightest movement on his behalf may result in his brains being splattered onto the grass.

"Mommy!" Rosie squeals and jumps off Maddox's lap, making him wheeze and cradle his gut.

Rosie runs to Y/n and hugs her leg. Tears form in the eyes of the distressed Mother. She drops her gun and falls to her knees to embrace her daughter in return, completely forgetting about the man.

"Oh princess you had me worried sick! What happened?! Who is this man? Did he hurt you?"

Rosie shakes her head back in forth and parts from the hug. "He saved me Mommy! From bad men!"

Y/n feels her heart squeeze in pain. She couldn't even protect her own daughter, let alone keep an eye on her. Instead a stranger had to save her. Speaking of the stranger, Y/n looks up and sees the man standing above her and her daughter. They make eye contact and the man's brown eyes widen as Y/n's lips part. Something about him is familiar.

"Thank you for-"

"Princess?" He says in utter disbelief.

Y/n feels her words get caught in her throat at the oh so familiar pet name. Only one man has ever called her that.

"Maddox?"

The outlaw removes his bandana. A scar, stubble, and crooked nose. The same face Y/n saw before she ran out of that saloon years ago. He drops to his knees and pulls his wife into a tight embrace. His long search for his wife has finally come to an end.

"My wife, my beautiful beautiful wife. Mmm I was searching every end of the country for you. I thought you were gone forever." Maddox buries his face into her neck and inhales her familiar lavender scent. Even her skin has the same softness it had years ago.

Y/n though, is silent. She doesn't return the embrace her long lost husband gives her. Her mind and heart are racing. It's like she's witnessing a paranormal encounter with a ghost. If this is a trick then it is a cruel one. That wound should have killed him. But no, he survived and came back to her. After about three years he returns looking more alive than ever.

"I thought you died..." Y/n utters softly. Her eyes are wide with shock as tears form from her tear ducts. Hesitantly, she hugs him back. Arms moving slowly up his back she rests her hands on the blades of his shoulders and sinks her body into his. The two are like snakes, their bodies constricting and melting into each others warmth.

"I got you sweetheart, I got you. Just let it out princess. Everything's gonna be okay." Maddox soothingly coos and rubs her back as her tears finally fall. A shrill cry leaves the depths of Y/n's soul. Her hands grip the fabric of his jacket. She's afraid if she let's go he'll die again.

But no. He never died. He survived, and he's here in her arms. All her sacrifices have led her to this moment. In the end, living was worth it.

"Mommy?"

Y/n blinks the tears from her eyes and looks to her daughter who stands there with the hem of her dress in her tiny fists. The little girl looks like she wants to cry too.

"Why crying?" She asks in a wobblily tone. Y/n smiles and pulls her daughter in with her and Maddox's embrace.

"Mommy's just happy that Daddy came back from heaven."

Rosie's brown eyes light up with wonder. The man who saved her is her Father? She opens her arms as wide as she can and hugs Maddox with all her two year old might. However Maddox is frozen.

"She's... she's mine?" He whispers.

Y/n nods. "Mhm... I had her eight months after I ran out of that saloon. She's about to turn three."

Maddox's jaw is on the floor. Not only has he found his wife but he has a little girl too? His heart hurts at the thought of Y/n going through the pain of pregnancy and childbirth all alone. The outlaw looks down at the little girl. And he looks to Y/n for silent permission and she nods with a light chuckle.

"She's your daughter, you can hug her silly."

And with that the Father hugs his little girl close to his chest. He doesn't even know that he's crying right now. And he doesn't care, all he cares about are his two girls right in front of him. Nothing matters anymore except for this. He isn't going to run anymore, he's tired of running. Running is what made him lose everything in the first place. Running is how he lost Y/n. And he never wants to lose his wife again. Especially not when he has a daughter too.

It's time to settle down and raise his family. Maddox never considered having a family before, let alone no longer being an active criminal. But for Y/n? He'd walk on glass through the depths of hell.

"I'm never leaving you alone ever again, you hear me?" He says in a firm tone to Y/n, his eyes piercing into her own. "We're gonna be a family. No more running baby, I promise."

He pulls his wife in by the back of her neck and kisses her passionately. This moment was one he would photograph into his memory; his daughter in his arms and his lips on his wife's.

Being a Father was NOT something Maddox thought he would ever be. Hell, he’s Maddox fucking Graves, the most threatening man in the west. A guy like him raising a kid? Yeah it’s unimaginable.

He’ll never admit it but fatherhood scares him. And nothing scares him (well except for losing Y/n again.) because he’s just that damn tough! Or so he thought.

Rosie is a little bundle of joy. She’s smart, funny, and damn fast. Too fast.

How did Y/n raise her all on her own!? It’s like the girl wants to die or something because why is she always getting into shit!?

“Rose! Get ya’ little mitts out of the knife drawer!”

“Hey! Jesus Christ kid you’re gonna kill yourself if you get too close to the edge of that cliff!”

“You’re giving Daddy a heart attack sweet pea. I just got ya, ya can’t leave me yet.”

Y/n has been through so much so he never asks her for help when it comes to little Rosie. He can figure it all out on his own no problem. Maddox is a man so he’s the tough guy of the house. There isn’t anything Y/n can do that he can’t do.

However…

“Y/n! Rosie done gone and crapped herself!”

Loves kissing Rosie’s cheeks. They’re so chubby! Maddox is so happy that his little girl is healthy and happy.

Rosie may have his looks but she has her Mommy’s smile and attitude. It’s adorable.

Now back to Maddox and Y/n…

They’ve been separated for nearly three years. So their relationship dynamic has changed a little bit.

No more lone wolf outlaw Maddox. No, he’s putty in his wife’s hand. Meanwhile Y/n has grown more independent over the years having raised Rosie and gotten a job all by herself.

Maddox needs her by his side 24/7. He’ll get grumpy at the idea of her leaving. He doesn’t want a repeat of the past either. Just the thought of Y/n not being within his vicinity makes him worry.

“I gotta go into town and grab some food.”

“Huh? Why’s that? We gotta garden princess! Whatchu need food from there for when we have all that we need here?”

Don’t think for a second that Maddox isn’t a yandere anymore just because he’s a girl Dad now. Nope, nada, zilch.

He won’t hesitate to kill anyone who poses as a threat to his family.

Maddox was crazy for Y/n before but now he’s outright insane. He’s just really good at hiding it. And he’s also insanely over protective of Rosie.

“I was thinking, maybe we can send Rosie to the school house when she turns th-”

“Absolutely not.”

“Huh? Why not? She needs an education Maddox.”

“I will not have my daughter be around those nasty town boys. No way in fuckin’ hell is that happening. We’ll home school her.”

“Aww you’re so cute when you’re protective!”

In the end Maddox ended up enrolling Rosie into school later on because he had no idea how to explain Mathematics to her.

MAN this was a long one. Sorry for any grammar mistakes, my phone buggy as hell 😩

[sailoryooons]

Request: Alpha Yoongi x omega reader. Werewolves. Smut and fluff. Dom Yoongi and sub reader. Starting with non-sexual dominance like her kneeling at his feet. Then, kind of a fear/primal chase in the woods as foreplay. Smut. And then aftercare with nesting.

❀ Pairing: Alpha Werewolf!Yoongi x Omega werewolf! F. reader

❀ Summary: Your alpha wants to go on a hunt through the woods. Who are you to deny him?

❀ Word Count: 8,727

❀ Genre: A/b/o, werewolves, supernatural, established relationship

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: I have never used the word scent and smells this much in my life please forgive me for I have used it a million times, alpha/omega dynamics, Yoongi chasing through the reader for fun, light predator/prey play, sexually explicit content including unprotected sex (f. receiving), breeding kink, mention of ruts, oral sex (f. receiving) not a lot of foreplay, a ton of being in subspace and hormone drunk, reader is pretty much a pillow princess/borderline free use for Yoongi, a lot of slick and soft dom Yoongi/sub reader, hint at aftercare and nesting

❀ Published: April 11, 2023

❀ A/N: Hi okay so I re-wrote this like three times because every time I did it, I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of filling this request, but I think I finally have something that I am happy with! It went in a little bit of a different place, but I hope that you like it! I am super unused to writing werewolves and a/b/o and I had such a good time dipping my toe in - it’s something I want to write in the future where I have some room to world build and go crazy on word count hehehe. Enjoy!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Milestone Event Request Fill |

Trees flash by you as you run, hands pumping at your sides, heart thundering in your chest. A pack of rabbits startle as you run by, bolting into their little dens. The earth is damp beneath your feet, still saturated with morning rain. You almost loose your footing more than once as you spring over a fallen tree, dry-rotted and full of ants.

The pine trees are packed tight, shafts of moonlight painting the forest floor in spotlights of silver as you run. The low-hanging branches catch you on your flight, needles stinging your skin but not drawing blood. Still, you snarl as a branch cracks under your barefoot, sending a sharp pang through your sole. 

You don’t stop, moving blindly toward the south of your territory. You don’t look over your shoulder to see where he is - you don’t need to. Even with a small head start, Yoongi is far faster than you are, and you swear the land changes at his command, putting tangled vines where you don’t remember them being, adding a hole to trip you up as you sprint through the trees. 

Yoongi isn’t magic, of course. He cannot change the lay of the land any more than you can, but he walks among these trees and hills every night. Plus, you’re frantic in your runaway, your human instincts bluring, somewhere between wolf and person. 

Run, little omega, Yoongi had whispered, pupils blown out, scent heady and hypnotizing. You’d only just come through the door to find him standing in the living room on the edge of pre-rut. Run and don’t let me catch you. 

Except Yoongi is going to catch you. You can hear the squirrels in the trees chattering angrily at him as he crashes through the woods behind you. He doesn’t have to be quiet - he is the top of the food chain here, he has nothing to fear. And neither do you, really. You’re a predator too, a wolf born and bred in these woods.

There is only a single thing you are prey to and he is laughing manically behind you as he hunts you down. 

Movement to your right catches your eye. Yoongi’s trying to cut you off, coming from the west of the woods to intercept you as you scramble south. You snarl and change direction, swerving southeast to put distance between the two of you. 

“Ah, come on, omega!” he hollers behind you, voice closer than you expect. You move faster, desperate to outrun him.

This far south of your house is a ravine. You know that if you slide down the side and run east, you’ll end up in Jungkook’s territory. A place your’e definitely not allowed to go, especially right now. You throw caution to the wind anyways, making a line for the ravine, singularly focused on making the slide down. 

You never make it, Yoongi slamming into your side and knocking you off your feet. You scream as you go down hard, but not hard enough to do more than jar your bones. Yoongi takes the brunt of your fall; you pressed against his chest, his back hitting the ground hard before he rolls. 

Gasping for breath, you claw at him, scraping to move from where he has you pinned. He laughs, catching your hands in one fist and slamming them above your head. His grip and the sound of him snarling your name has you snap to attention, going boneless. 

Yoongi is panting heavily against you, filling your space with his scent. Your eyes flutter as your chest heaves, trying to catch your breath. Every inhale has your sense flooding with Yoongi’s scent: pine and sage, edged with something heaver and muskier. 

Alpha near rut. 

It makes your head spine and for a second, your vision of him goes a little blurry. He lets go of your hands but you don’t move. He knows you won’t, pinned under the heavy weight of him as he straddles your waist, sitting on you. 

Blinking the heaviness from your eyes, you look up at him and it feels like the world stops. 

Yoongi’s round face is framed by dark, black hair. It’s a little damp with sweat, clinging to his brow bone. His feline eyes are sharp and wild, pupils dilated with the frenzy of the hunt. A single, dark scar mars his right eye. You used to feel a pang of guilt looking at it, a reminder of what being an alpha had cost him. 

Now, though, you think of it fondly. You’ve traced it hundreds of times with your fingers, know every smooth and knotted surface of the injury. Yoongi is beautiful with and without it, lips glossy as his tongue darts out to wet them.

“You smell so good,” Yoongi growls, leaning down. You hold your breath as he leans toward your neck, nosing the scent gland there. Stars burst behind your eyes and you shiver underneath him, let out a whimper. He laughs, the sound low and scratchy in your ear. “Could smell you all the way from the house.” Yoong’s hands runs down your hips, skirts your thigh, and slips between your legs. He presses his fingers against your jeans. “Could smell this perfect little cunt for miles.”

A high-pitched whine leaves you as Yoongi presses harder, fingers providing the barest amount of friction. The ache between your legs is growing painful, your stomach twisting in arousal in response to the smell of him, the touch of him. An omega responding to their alpha in pre-rut, nearly on the brink of instrictual frenzy. 

Forming coherent thoughts is difficult, especially when you’re mind is in a state that’s more wolf than human. That’s the struggle with werewolves, toeing the line between human and animal. Instinct and choice. Your body does not choose to respond to him on a chemical level, but you don’t mind. It’s Yoongi. Your Yoongi. Your mate. 

“I told you not to get caught.”

You huff, irritation stoking you. He mouths at your throat over your gland, making you nearly pass out. “You’re faster than I am.”

“That isn’t true.”

Yoongi distracts you with a wet, hot lick over your mating mark. You let out a loud moan, not even trying to hide it this time. He laughs as you squirm under him, silenced when he growls your name. “Is that true, omega?” He asks, mouthing at your jaw. You can hardly understand his line of questioning as your thoughts and feelings blur. “Am I really faster than you?”

For a few moments, you don’t respond. Everything feels heightened, the sound of Yoongi’s voice buzzing against the corner of your mouth as he brushes his lips across your skin, not kissing you exactly. You’re hyper-aware of the smell of him, threatening to drive you into madness. Feel the way his hips press to against yours. 

“Omega.” Yoongi’s voice is final. 

“No,” you admit. “You’re not faster than me.” 

“So you let me catch you?” 

“I thought about it.” Yoongi nose bumps yours. Your eyes flutter shut as his mouth barely touches yours and you speak against his lips, “But then I decided I wanted to win.”

“And you were running to Jungkook’s hmm?” You wince and he hums, knowing he’s right. “Bad omega. Little wolves running into another alphas territory while they’re being hunted isn’t a very good idea, huh?”

“Would you have followed?”

“Of course I would. You’re mine. I would follow you into a fucking fire. Little Jungkookie’s territory is nothing.”

It’s a simple declaration, but you know what it means for an alpha to boldly claim he would enter another wolf’s territory, to break a line of demarcation. You can’t help but smile, leaning your head upward to press a kiss to his lips, hungry and tired of running from him. 

Yoongi lets you, though you feel the shape of a smirk through the sweet taste of his mouth, warm against yours. Yoongi sinks his hips heavily against yours and you moan into his mouth, spurring him further. Your hands remain where he left them, outstretched above your head as he licks into you, no longer content to let you kiss him the way you want. 

His kisses consume you. He takes your breath away, hand leaving the apex of your thighs to snake up your front, loosely gripping your throat. You feel dizzy. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t do anything but rest his hand at the base of your neck, fingers pressed lightly to the sides of your throat. 

It’s comforting, having him smother you like this. You get lost in the wet tangle of his tongue, your skin burning up from the inside out. He rolls his hips into you, but it’s not enough. You need him, a fire sparking to life that burns hotter than you can manage.

A feverish need comes over you. Yoongi senses the shift. His kisses turn to bites, teething gently at your skin as he works you out of your clothes. You still haven’t moved your hands and when he glances at them, he grins. 

Your eyes are only for him, shrouded in darkness as he pulls your pants down, then your shirt. Your eyes are sharp in the dark, able to see the rippling muscle of his arms and shoulders. The dusty nipples, the swells and planes of his chest and stomach. See the way his gaze is fucked out when he’s barely touched you, shuffling down your legs, hands skimming and grabbing the soft meat of your thighs. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, eyes dragging from the wet smear down your thighs, to your hands above your head. You whine under his gaze and he grins, feral and sharp. “So obedient for me.”

“You like hands above head until you say so.”

“I do.” Yoongi bows low, grabbing your legs and hiking them over his shoulders. Your world spins, feeling his breath on your cunt as he makes a low sound in his throat. “Fucking wet, just how I like it.” 

Yoongi licks a sloppy path up your pussy and you gasp, head digging back into the grass. It’s almost painful, the need for him pulsing between your legs. He hums, sucking at your clit hungrily. Your toes curl and you hide your face in your arm, the urge to squirm away from the stimulation strong.  

You’re an exposed wire under Yoongi’s tongue as he eats you out, messy and wet. He laps at your hole, eager to taste you, nose pressed against your clit, teasing. You whimper his name, thighs clenching, fisting your hands together as you fight to remain still. It’s nearly impossible, this stillness he’s asked of you. You want to reach down and thread your fingers through his hair, want to dig your nails in and scratch, want to pull him close and shove him away.

The sounds he makes are obscene, alternating between sucking loudly and flicking his tongue against your throbbing clit. It’s pleasure-laced pain. You want him to fuck you, to sink into you as deep as he can until you can’t do anything but take it. But you like this too, the way Yoongi’s tongue works your clenching hole.

A high-pitched keen leaves your mouth. He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded as he sticks his tongue out, making a show of licking your cunt top to bottom. Your tongue is heavy in your mouth as you mumble his name, speech slurred. 

“Hmm?” he asks, grunting against you as he works you closer to an orgasm, which hovers in the distance. He looks up at you again, sees the tears lining your eyes. “You can touch me,” he murmurs, saying the world between lush licks between your folds. “Greedy omega.”

And so what if you are greedy. Yoongi gives you everything you want. He makes a grumble about it, rolling his eyes and sometimes acting like it’s a little inconvenience, but you know he loves it- loves this. Loves letting you get away with things when you ask sweetly.

Yoongi’s hair is silky and a little sweaty as you run your fingers through it, nails scratching at his scalp the way he likes. His moan is muffled against your pussy and you wriggle beneath him. It feels so good, your stomach in knots. Your limbs begin to tingle and you feel that tight, squeezing feeling in your core, clenching hard. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. Dig your nails into Yoongi’s scalp and he growls at the pain. You think your breaking skin, nails turned into claws, limbs shaking as your orgasm tightens and tightens until it feels like you can’t breath, like the world is going to crack in half. 

And then it breaks. Your orgasm floods out of you in a rush, your muscle spasming so hard that you scream. Heels digging into the dirt, fingers tangled in Yoongi’s hair, head whipped to the side, cheek pressed into the ground and eyes squeezed shut so hard you see colors exploded behind your eyelids. 

Heavy-limbed and feeling drunk, you drop your legs open a bit. Yoongi’s hands are on your hips, flipping you over. You don’t have the strength to hold yourself up, hands buckling under you, face pressed to the back of your palms. He says something that you can’t hear, your head still swimming in the clouds. 

Every one of your joints feels melted, unable to lock together to support your weight. It doesn’t matter. Yoongi does it for you, lifting you up so that you’re on your knees, thighs spread wide. Air cools the wet mess on your legs. You realize you’re dripping past your knees. 

Yoongi’s palms feel like fire on your flushed skin. He wraps and arm around your waist, pulling you back to his chest, the other looping under your arm so he can grab your neck firmly. This time, he does squeeze, fingers placed perfectly on the sides of your throat. 

Everything around you feels like cotton candy fuzz, fluffy and sweet. Your head lolls back, resting on his shoulder as his teeth find your shoulder, nipping your skin. Behind you, his cock slides gently between your folds, making you hiss. 

“Gonna fill up this pussy,” Yoongi murmurs. “Gonna fuck you full, yeah?”

You nod your head. “Yeah.” The word slurs on your tongue. “Please, want it.”

“You’re already fucked out from just my mouth, omega.” 

“So?” 

He chuckles darkly. His cockhead catches your clenching hole and you whine, hands going to clutch the arm on your waist and holding your throat. “Have you no decency, hm?”

“No. Yoongi please, it hurts. Please just - please.”

“Shhh.” Yoongi places a warm, wet kiss on your jaw. “I’ve got you. You know I’ve got you?”

Words are too hard, so you nod. Yoongi places another sweet kiss on your cheek before he shuffles and thrusts into you, smooth on the upstroke. You gasp, breath knocked out of you as he slides to the hilt. Yoongi’s cock is thick and though you’re soaked, the stretch is intense, your walls clinging to him in a vice grip.

Behind you, Yoongi curses. His hand tightens, and it gets just a little bit harder to breath. Slowly, he retracts before snapping forward again, stroke slow but hard. He groans, focused on setting a leisurely and smooth pace. Every thrust of his hips makes his cock hit deep, punching the air from your lungs. With his fingers pressing against your throat, it gets harder to take in more air, making you light-headed, the forest spinning. 

It feels so good, this blooming pleasure inside of you. Every time he hits your soft spot just right, you feel closer to madness. Yoongi squeezes your throat tighter. His skin is warm and sweaty, sliding against yours, the friction making your eyes roll back.

Yoongi’s teeth scrape your shoulder. Sink in just a little, not enough to draw blood, but you feel the sting. It’s good, pleasure-laced pain. And then he’s telling you to let go, to come around him. You deny your alpha nothing, eyes fluttering shut as you squeeze tight tight tight. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi snarls. You come so hard he has to stop thrusting, your pussy clenching around him with everything you’ve got. You’re not breathing, air stuck in your lungs, blood rushing in your eyes, stars behind your eyes. “Breathe,” Yoongi pants, letting go of your throat. You suck in a sharp breath of air, flooding your lungs. “That’s it. You can take it, yeah? Can take it til I fill you up?”

“Yes, alpha.”

It’s a mumble of words. You’re not even sure if it comes out right. Yoongi holds you to him, doesn’t mind that you're boneless. Your fingers thread his where his hands grip you, squeezing as your head cradles against his neck. You nose him there, drawing all sorts of feral sounds from him as he chases his orgasm, driven to the edge while you scent him. He comes with a loud sound, maybe your name or something else. You’re not sure. 

Yoongi smells like home. Well - smells like earth and come and sweat and trees and pheremones. But his smell is there, pine and sage. Wild and gentle. Earth and cleansing. You love the smell of him, you have since you met him. 

“Rest.” Yoongi’s voice sounds faraway. “I’ve got you.” 

Weightlessness takes over. You don’t remember moving and you don’t remember Yoongi pulling out of you and picking you up. You’re drunk off his scent, hormones throwing you over the cliff and into a deep lake, where you float aimlessly. Comforted. 

Soft sheets slide against your skin. You turn your face and breathe in, smelling Yoongi everywhere. It’s warm and you smell you too. Rosemary and mint. Your scents linger together, making you feel at home. Loved. Safe. 

Something jostles you a little. You slow-blink an eye open, realizing you’re at home, tucked into the corner of your room you like to use for nesting. Blankets of Yoongi’s are piled eye and there are shirts and hoodies that belong to him. Some shirts that belong to you. Things that remind you of the two of you, that feel like you both. 

Yoongi is tucked behind you, breath puffing against your ear. His eyes are closed when you curve your head to look at him. “Sleep,” he rasps, not opening his eyes. “And thank you for the hunt. I’m not done with you. But I’m tired.” 

You smile and close your eyes, drifting to sleep in the safety of Yoongi’s arms.

[zombieunicorngamerzu]

(Charlotte Matthews x fem soulmate reader - eighteen year old reader is a runaway, passing out in the forest near Charlottes retreat where she finds her on a walk with her followers, only there’s a darker turn, Charlotte had a vision, a vision before you came that you’d come, destined to be delivered to her by the wild, as her soulmate, and once she finds you, she has no intentions of letting you go.)

[Warnings - self harm scars, bad past in foster care, references to past molestation, sexual trauma, blood, caring- slightly dark Charlotte, soulmate au, smut, GIP Charlotte, penetration, lovemaking, breeding, lovebombing]

The leaves crunched under your feet as you walked down the path of the forest on the side of the road, it was raining and getting dark. Your backpack slung over your shoulder and your headphones lodged in your ears as you pulled your hood down more to shield yourself from the rain. You had no idea where you were going at this point, just walking further and further away from that hellhole called home.

Anywhere would be better than that place.

You sighed out shakily, you should have packed more food and water, you only left with a backpack full of two sets of clothes, a bag of granola bars, two water bottles, and your wallet with about $100 in it, but you were trying to save every penny, trudging yourself further down the path in the mud, terrified that if you followed the main road your monsters of foster parents would find you, but you were eighteen now, just turned, yet you still feel like a scared child.

Frowning as you remembered why you left, the promising words of your Foster father that he would… you didn’t wanna think that thought, all you knew was you had to leave before you turned eighteen, your whole body shivering before you dry heaved from the memories of his hands on your body, being pinned to the floor of your bedroom-

There you went, stumbling over and vomiting with your hand braced on a tree, your whole body practically seizing up from the stress of memories, emptying your stomach until you were a panting-sweaty mess, your eyes closing for a moment as you felt your forehead, “yup, fever, fucking fantastic”, you thought to yourself, wiping your mouth and pulling yourself back up, taking a swig of water to swish out the awful taste in your mouth before spitting and continuing to walk with a slight stumble to your pace.

You really didn’t know where you were, you were really lost, it was dark, you feel like shit, and you have a fever, the ache and the lightheadedness making you completely miserable to the point of wanting to cry, but you were stubborn, you kept walking with a goal of making it to god knows where, you tried and trudged for as long as you could before slipping in the mud and tumbling back, falling into a ditch and smacking your head off a rock, passing out completely.

Charlotte didn’t really know why she took this route, she didn’t usually take her followers out past the barriers of the community, but there was just this urge, this pull to this area she couldn’t place. She could swear the trees were leading her to a specific area, she was leading a group therapy today with a couple of her followers, walking and just trying to appreciate and enjoy the light rain and nature in silence.

What Charlotte didn’t expect was to look down the path to the side and see a unconscious girl, her eyes widening at the sight in disbelief as she stopped, “Oh my god” she spoke out with concern and worry as she immediately rushed down into the ditch, not caring about getting her kaftan dirty, slipping a few times before she made it to you, gently turning you over before shaking her head with a shaky sigh of worry at blood dripping down the side of your face, Charlottes followers all calling down to her as she pulled your head into her lap, calling back up to them, “Can I get some help down here, this girl is hurt!”

Charlottes eyes widened as she brushed your hair out of your face, her touch so tender as your eyes fluttered slightly, her face leaning closer to yours to inspect you, her fingers grazing your cheek* “Hey- Hello… come on, wake up for me sweetheart, please?” She spoke so soft while her followers stumbled down into the ditch to help carry you, but Charlotte held up her hand to stop them as she watched you try to wake,

“Wait.”

Her followers obeyed immediately, Charlottes tone was stern along with her look before she softened completely and looked back down at you, your eyes cracking open just slightly, your vision was blurry when you drifted to consciousness for a moment, seeing a blurry figure and hearing a muffled voice, “That’s it, there you go, come on, come on.”

You really tried to wake up, but you couldn’t, only getting a glimpse of a very beautiful older woman who looked like a concerned angel there to save you before you drifted unconscious again, causing Charlotte to frown in panic, trying to tap your cheek but nothing worked.

Signaling her followers to help take you back to the community while she followed rushed, Charlotte was so concerned, you were so young, and she just felt a wave of protectiveness and care for you already, and you looked so familiar, her brows furrowed the whole time as her followers carry you back to the direction of a cabin before Charlottes correcting them, “No, bring her to my quarters, she needs to be watched.”

Her followers complied immediately, carrying you to Charlottes quarters and laying you down on her sofa before she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, “Please, everyone, thank you for your help but please leave me to tend to her.”

After they left she immediately rushed to your side and started to untie your muddy shoes, taking them off along with your socks and setting your backpack to the side, peeking into it to see if there’s anything she needs to know about, finding your ID and wallet with your name, making her smile slightly, “Y/N, pretty name for a pretty girl.” She sighed out before pulling out your little metal box you had in there, a worried frown immediately crossing her features when she popped it open and gasped, accidentally slicing her finger on one of your razors.

Charlotte was tearing up already, she’s seen self-harm scars so many times before, but yours were just- they broke her heart as she rolled up your sleeves and found your dirty-bloody, poorly wrapped wrists, she covered her mouth as she shakily unwrapped them to see your red irritated scars, most likely infected. Her heart hurt so bad seeing you like this, her eyes tearing up as she stood up and started to undress you before carefully lifting you off the couch and carrying you to her bathroom with a strained grunt.

She was determined to clean you up and care for you, setting you in her large jet tub before running some hot water, she sat just outside the tub with a concerned expression while carefully cleaning your wounds, her fingers gently moving through your hair as she washed you before draining the tub when she was finished, pulling your unconscious body out of the tub to dress you in some heliotrope robes before bandaging all your wounds, finally getting you into her bed.

She sat beside you with a frown, her expression softening once she saw how peaceful you looked curled up in her bed, she shook her head before gently grabbing your hand, freezing with a gasp when she gets thrown into a vision.

It was a vision of the two of you together, happy and content, a family, running the community with her, in her vision you were dressed in a beautiful heliotrope sundress with a belly bump, pregnant with a baby while she stood beside you, her hand placed on your stomach as you smiled at her so bright, Charlotte swore you were the most beautiful woman in the world before she was lurched back to the present with tears in her eyes, blinking quickly with surprise.

“Oh…” Charlotte just let a breath of realization out, you were meant to be hers, you were a gift given to her, she found you in the wilderness, surely it wasn’t a coincidence she found you, you were meant to be hers, sure you were young, but Charlotte didn’t care, she would wait if you were not of age, but she knew she loved you right then and there, laying down with you as she gently wrapped her arms around you to hold you protectively, she didn’t know where you came from, or why you were alone and injured, but she was never going to let you suffer ever again.

She fell asleep with you that night, cuddled close as she held you close to her.

When you woke, all you could do was whimper in pain as your eyes opened, you were shocked as you woke and found yourself in a unfamiliar place with a unfamiliar woman holding you, freezing up, but Charlotte was already awake, cooing immediately when she saw you getting ready to panic, holding you down as she shook her head, “No, no, love, calm down, your safe, I promise, I found you out in the forest unconscious, you were injured and you have a fever.”

“Where am I?” You whimpered out with a raspy tone, your eyes squinting from the concussion as you looked up at her. She smiled down at you gently, brushing your hair back, “Your at Sunshine Honey Wellness retreat, we’re a intentional community designed to help people, like you and many others.”

You frowned, “what do you mean like me?” That’s when you noticed the fresh bandages on your body, your forearms bandaged neatly and one around your head, you were humiliated that she saw your cuts, you were ashamed of them.

Charlotte must have noticed your discomfort, placing her hand on your forehead delicately to feel your temperature and calm you, “Hey, Y/N, it’s alright, I promise, I’m gonna help you, you don’t have to worry.” You just frowned, this was weird and she was a complete stranger, yet she made you feel calm and taken care of, she was nothing but gentle and delicate with you, her hands gently pulling you and touching you, helping you sit up in bed before she sat up on her knees, “I’m gonna go get you something to eat, alright? It’ll just be some chicken broth for your fever, I promise it will help.” She spoke with such confidence before she got up to go make you some, leaving you alone with your thoughts in bed.

It was really quiet, you could see her through the doorframe moving gracefully in her kitchen, her eyes flickering back to yours every time she turned around like she was making sure you were still there, always giving you a kind shy smile though before she came back with a warm mug and a timid-warm look, carefully handing it to you, “Be very careful, it’s hot, love.” She spoke like a caring mother, which made your heart warm at her kindness, this woman you just met has been kinder than every single foster home you’ve been in and you’ve only been awake for a few moments. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.” Charlotte spoke with a soft tone, rubbing your thigh gently with a reassuring squeeze, the action made you blush red, taking a sip of the broth with a sigh before speaking, “I just- thank you, I mean, I would probably still be unconscious and bleeding in that ditch if you hadn’t of found me.”

Charlotte flinches at the thought, frowning as she sighed and scooted up to sit by your side, “I’m glad I found you then, because I believe you were led here for a reason.” You frowned slightly with skepticism, your brows furrowing, “I don’t know about that.” She frowned at your words, she knew you were brought to her by the wilderness, you had to be, her visions were no jokes, taking your hand in hers, “Darling, I don’t know where you came from or what your past is, but I don’t care, I do believe you were brought to me and I swear on my life I will care for you and love you, if you let me…”

She spoke with such a caring expression full of concern and sympathy as you stared at her, she was even tearing up, she looked so worried it made your heart tug. You just didn’t know if you could trust a stranger, you just woke up here in a strange place and this woman- she seemed a little unhinged with how she was looking at you with such pure emotions, you knew she believed what she was saying as she brushed your hair from your face, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Please, stay, let me care for you, speak to me, tell me your story.” She mumbled out against your forehead before pulling back a bit with such a open expression of empathy, taking your hands in hers, “I promise, you can talk to me.” She seemed so honest, you wanted to tell her. You were still hesitant and scared, but you eventually decided to tell her, you told her the story of your horrible life in foster care, the abuse, physically, emotionally, sexually, you watched as Charlottes face twisted into agony at some of the stories you spoke of before her jaw clenched so tight at the mention of your foster father harming you.

You were slightly shocked at how pissed she looked, her jaw clenched and breath quickening with this dark look in her eyes before she noticed your expression and calmed herself immediately, pulling you into a hug, caressing your hair, “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry, I swear on my life you will never be subjected to that again!” She whimpered out against your shoulder, holding you tight and protective all while planning to send some of her followers to your past foster home to, “enlighten your foster parents in her own ways.”

But she wouldn’t tell you about that, she was just going to protect you from now on, you were hers and she was going to make sure of it, making sure to console you as you started to cry, holding you and rocking you with comforting coos and reassuring words before hours past and she laid you down again to sleep, making sure to lay by your side the entire night to watch you sleep and soothe any nightmares you may get, her hand on your back the whole night.

Over the next few weeks she watched you slowly start to adjust to live at the retreat, she smiled with joy any time you decided to come to one of her speeches, she knew you didn’t believe in what she preached, but that’s what made it more special, you only came to support her, to watch her, she felt her heart beat with pride any time her followers saw the two of you together. And you were slowly healing as well, even if you didn’t believe in most of the therapy she taught, she did use methods to help you heal, reassurance and safety being taught along with trust, you struggled with anxiety and fear the most, always flinching and jumping at sounds or unexpected touches, but she was making progress.

It was late again one night that you came back into her bedroom after a shower, drying your hair as Charlotte laid in bed with her glasses, reading before her eyes drifted up to you as you entered, smiling, “Hi, my love, may I speak with you about something?” She spoke carefully as you looked at her curiously, nodding with a small smile as you sat down while she crawled over to you to sit, “I’ve been waiting for you, since you came, and I- well I love you and I know you know that, but I- I want to fully love you.” She spoke out gently as she took your hands in hers, looking you in the eyes.

“I know your past, and I know how you feel about… intimacy,” Her words made you tense a bit, but she consoled you quickly, “You can say no, you can say stop at any time and I will, you can dictate how this goes, but I do love you… I love you so much and I want to bond with you, I want our souls to be one.” She spoke with such passion about the subject, scooting closer to cup your face in her hands, her brows furrowed with a worried frown at what you’ll say, “My love, will you let me?”

You were a little scared, Charlotte told you already about her… extra appendage weeks ago, you were shocked at first but then you thought about it, you knew Charlotte would be gentle with you, she loved you more than anything, staring at the honest look In her eyes before giving a hesitant nod, “Okay…” Her eyes widened with shock and lit up with joy at your words, nodding, “Okay? Your sure?” You smiled at her reassurance for consent, nodding again, “I want to, I-I do, im just scared.” She cood out at your words, helping you to get into bed and lay down as she stripped you with care, like unwrapping a present before straddling you,

“I swear to you, my love, I would rather carve out my own heart than hurt you.” She spoke with utter honesty and passion as she slipped out of her clothes, you always thought she was beautiful, but now? She looked ethereal, her dark hair down and her tan skin so soft against yours as her hands gently slid down your torso before moving to your thighs, sighing out as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, she couldn’t believe this was happening. You were submitting to her love, accepting your rightful role as her beautiful girl… she was happier than she’s ever been with you under her as she tended to you with such care.

“I swear I’ll be as gentle as I can.” She whispered out softly, tilting her head as she looked down at you with such adoration, a caring smile on her lips as she delicately trailed her fingers up your inner thighs before looking into your eyes to make sure you weren’t hesitating as she slowly spread your thighs open, she wanted to take her time to care for you and your body, scooting down the bed to sit and lay on her stomach between your thighs, kissing right above where your most intimate parts were before speaking, “Just relax, my love, your safe… right here with me.”

You just nodded as you looked down at her, she smiled up at you before delicately leaning down to place her lips against your wet folds, her eyes fluttered closed at your taste, a soft whimper leaving her lips as she darted out her tongue for a taste, moaning softly as she placed a hand on your tummy to keep you down. “Mm- my love… you taste so good…” You blushed profusely at her words, squirming with little gasps and small moans as you felt Charlottes tongue flick against your clit before she sucked, making you arch and whine with a jolt.

You wanted to reach down and grip her hair, which she noticed, you were just scared so she helped you, grabbing your hand in hers as she stroked your knuckles and guided your hand to her hair. You quickly realized what she was doing and placed your fingers in her hair to massage her scalp, the sensation only made her moan deeper, a husky tone to her voice before she was slipping her tongue inside you, causing you to choke out a eager moan at the wet muscle pushing inside you to spread and massage your sweet spot.

“F-Fuck, C-Charlotte-“ You whimpered out through shaky gasps, moaning and shivering. She only smirked and quickened her actions, pushing her tongue in deeper and nuzzling her nose against your clit with a hum, “Cum for me sweet girl, you can do it, cum for mommy…” With those words, it just shocked you into your orgasm, “Mommy!” You choked out a whimper as your body arches up, seizing as your legs locked around Charlottes head, her hands stroking your thighs as you arched up against her mouth, cumming.

After you finally started to slump back down against the sheets, Charlotte was already back ontop of you, sat between your thighs as she slid her hands up and down your sides, worshiping your trembling body as you lay blissed out, she smiled and tapped your temple, “Pretty girl… open those eyes for mommy.” She spoke gently, she wanted to make sure you were alright and that she still had your consent to continue, her hand pushing between your thighs, slender fingers slipping through your soaked folds to push inside you, making you moan, sighing out with pleasure, “Agh… C-Charlotte-“

Her smile widened and her brows raised at the reaction, cooing out as she pushed her fingers deeper, curling them, “Ohh, now I have your attention… I’m gonna make sure your ready for me, okay?” She asked with such a gentle tone you just nodded numbly with a soft moan, “O-Okay…” she smiled adoringly, leaning down to kiss your lips tenderly while whispering out a, “Good girl.” Before her fingers sped up again, thrusting and curling inside you to stretch your walls and make you wetter for her cock. She was already so proud of you for letting her show you her love, you looked so beautiful laid under her as she tended to you.

It wasn’t long until her fingers worked you into yet another orgasm, crying out for her as she pinned you down, kissing you deeply while grinding her palm into your clit with her fingers buried knuckles deep in your weeping cunt, cum spilling out and dripping down onto the sheets below. That’s when she knew you were finally ready for her, you were soaked and sensitive, shaky, sweaty, and relaxed, so adorable. “There you go… yesss, let go, yes that it!” She moaned out with her eyes closed as she watched you cum before pulling her fingers out, moving back a little to spread to spread your thighs wider, her tone soft, “Are you alright, my love? May I continue?”

You just whined on a shaky moan, you were spent, you didn’t realize Charlotte would make you cum so many times, or take care of you so well for that matter, your thighs felt like jelly and you were so sensitive, nodding weakly, “Y-Yes, please… Charlotte, I want you…” you whimpered out for her. You wanted her so bad, you wanted to kiss her and feel her against you, inside you, you wanted to hear her moan and pant and watch her face twist in pleasure. She smiled so bright at your response, nodding before she scooted up a little more between your thighs.

“Fuck… gods… I’m so hard for you, love-“ she whimpered out, making you whimper as you looked down, she was right. Her cock was throbbing hard, it looked painful and she was just dripping precum, actually no. That was real cum, Charlotte had come just by fucking you with her fingers. Your eyes met hers as she blushed and leant down to kiss your cheek before moving to your lips. “Your so beautiful…” You smiled softly at her tone, she sounded so breathless, it wasn’t long before she made you breathless, when she first pushed her tip inside you it made you gasp with surprise but she consoled you and shushed you with a soft tone,

“Shh, Shh, it’s okay love…” You just bit your lip and arched for her as her hips bucked again, pushing herself inside you deeper, that action only made you moan louder, your nails digging into her back, “God-“ She moaned against your lips with a shaky gasp at the sound of your moans, her body shaking against yours as she adjusted to how tight you felt around her cock as she thrusted in and out, panting…. (Fuck, she hadn’t had sex in a long time, she was really out of practice)

Charlotte was already trembling and gasping, she couldn’t help it, you just looked so cute and she was struggling not to cum in you, but that all went away and burst the moment your legs wrapped around her waist to pull her deeper and you rushed up for a kiss to whine into her mouth, making her cry out against your lips with a growl as she slammed her hips down against yours, groaning and whining as she filled you with her seed, her hips bucking and grinding as she made sure to keep all of her love inside you, gasping, “Oh my god, oh my god, Y/N!”

You moaned out with her, feeling her cock shoving deeper and deeper inside you as you felt her spurt cum inside you, it made your thighs shake as you arched with a cry, squirting around her cock with a scream of her name from sensitivity, “Charlotte!!!” You both finished with heavy panting, Charlotte slumping down slowly and limply against you, disheveled and shaky, exhausted as she laid atop of you, kissing your cheek lazily, husking out, “Oh… I love you so much… please don’t ever leave me, okay? Y-you can’t-“ she whimpered out as she clung to you, you felt the tears against your neck, making you frown as you hugged her against you, kissing her forehead, “Charlotte, I could never leave you…” she just sniffled and nodded, “Good, because I need you…” And just like that, she had you.

[starks-hero]

Little Runaway

Pairing: Jake Lockley x Reader

Summary: “You heading home, carinõ?” “Not exactly.”

You decide to run and leave everything behind you, but the cabbie you've hailed to drop you to the airport might just change your mind.

Word Count: 2.3k

a/n: I'm not saying that you should listen to this song whilst reading but it definitely gives off the ~vibe~

It was raining and you hadn't packed a jacket.

You hadn't packed much of anything, really. A heap of clothes, your passport, and what little cash you had. You had no clear idea where you were heading; you'd decided you'd figure that out as you went.

The pavement was already beginning to flood, water seeping into the soles of your shoes and dampening your socks. You cringed, readjusting the bag on your back. Your arm, which had been extended to the road in a desperate plea for someone to take pity and pick you up, was growing heavy.

The sky rumbled above you, an unpleasant preview of the deluge that was to come. You huddled in on yourself.

The screech of rubber against gravel split the air as a blue Honda Civic made its entrance at the end of the street. It spun from one side of the road to the other in flamboyant turns, and its radio blared so loudly the windows vibrated and quivered.

You took your chances and raised your arm. You'd take a lift from Ghostface at this rate if it meant getting off this godforsaken sidewalk.

The car sped up, frighteningly so, and your stomach dropped. It swerved towards the path, purposely speeding through the puddles collecting in the gutter. The small wave of water drenched the legs of your pants, from your knees down to your shoes. The blaring music barely drowned out the hysterical laughter from inside the car as it sped off.

You stepped away from the road and the squelch of your wet socks almost reduced you to tears. You folded your arms across your chest and started walking. You weren't even sure you were heading in the right direction but anywhere would be better than here.

Five minutes into your trek and drenched to the point it was a miracle your skin hadn't turned blue, a car horn sounded. You turned to the road.

A cab emerged from the heavy curtain of rain, black and sleek. Its tires were deathly quiet against the gravel and you questioned if it was a figment of your psyche. An imaginary savior.

It slowed as it pulled up beside you, tires kissing the pavement. The paint job was so prestine you could see your reflection staring back at you.

You were a pitiful sight.

The tinted window rolled down painfully slow and you squinted your eyes against the rain to catch sight of the man who sat inside.

Dark brown eyes regarded you from under the fraying edge of his cap. His stare was stern but not judgmental, looking you over with something close to pity.

"You need a ride?"

You oddly found yourself speechless. Blinking twice then once more, you surveyed the car again before looking back to your knight in clad leather. His hand tapped against the steering wheel in an uneven beat, an action you might have mistaken for impatience if his expression was an inch less friendly.

You shuffled your feet, the small puddles of water collecting in your shoes making themselves known. This was exactly what you'd been hoping for but the reality of getting in a car with a stranger was daunting.

"I don't bite, carinõ." He said suddenly. "Look–" he leaned forward and tapped twice on the taxi sign and (albeit run-down) fair counter on the dashboard. "I'm the real deal. I'll take you anywhere you need to go."

He motioned to the back of the car. You inched forward, then fell back on your heel.

"Look, I'd do anything for a pretty face but I don't have all day, are you coming or going?" Despite the nature of his words, his voice was still low, even; you'd dare say kindly.

Throwing caution, (as well as your memory of every murder mystery film you'd ever seen) to the wind, you slipped into the back of the car.

It was an instant relief. The warm air from the heaters kissing your skin and heating your cheeks. Even the heavy scent of cigarettes that clung to everything inside the taxi was somewhat comforting.

"Coming, then," you heard your driver muse as he pulled back onto the road.

You'd given him your destination, (the nearest airport, railroad or dock) and then you were off. Watching the world fade into a blundered mix of grey's outside the car's window made what you were doing feel far more real.

A few minutes of silence passed, followed by a small handful spent trading small talk, mostly about the weather. You supposed that it was all part of his job.

"You heading home, carinõ?" he asked casually and you supposed it was a fair question to ask.

"Not exactly," you answered, choosing to leave it at that.

You caught sight of his nod in the rearview mirror. He was quiet in contemplation for a moment. "Anywhere in mind?"

A laugh of disbelief, mostly at your own actions. "Anywhere away from here." In all honesty, you hadn't planned that far ahead. Your destination largely depended on which ticket was cheapest.

Another hum of thought from your chofer. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess you're not going to tell me what it is you're running from, no?"

You crossed your arms over your chest and huddled in on yourself. Your clothes were still dripping and the heating was doing little to fend off the chill now.

"Then you'd guess right."

The car lulled back into a gentle quiet. The rhythmic sound of the tires gliding over the road, the occasional bump throwing it off its rhythm. The rain pattering at the roof and windows, and the persistent beating of your driver's hand against the wheel.

You shivered again, a rebellious droplet having fallen from your damp hair and sliding down your back. You missed the look the cabbie gave you in the mirror.

He slowed the cab, just enough for him to lean across and open the glove compartment without having to worry about ending up in an unplanned game of bumper cars.

A large, brown jacket was tossed to you, the faux fur lining the neck feeling heavenly between your stiff fingers.

"Warm yourself up." His eyes were already back on the road.

You slipped the coat over your shoulders. It swallowed you up in warmth and you sighed, pulling it taunt against your damp frame. It smelled of ash, cigarettes and gasoline, an unusual cocktail that somehow screamed comfort. Given where he'd produced it from, something told you that giving his coat to strangers wasn't all part of your cabbie's general service. You sank into the item of clothing a little more.

You thanked him and comedically he tipped his hat to you. The small smile you managed made your cheeks feel warm.

The rain let up if only a little and the radio took its place as the dominant sound in the car. It was a quiet, dreary song playing; one you'd expect to hear from the front porch on a Sunday morning. Soft and gentle, easy to listen to. And the Spanish singing was ethereal.

'Tuvo compasión, más allá del sol, más allá del sol, yo tengo un hogar, hogar bello hogar.’

You let your head fall back against the rest, shoulders slumping and a gentle hum passing your lips.

Your cabbie lifts his brow in the rear view mirror and oddly you don't feel patronized under his gaze.

"The song," you say instead. "I like it."

In a beat, he reached across and turned the radio dial. The song flowed through the speakers with new strength. His gentle raps against the steering wheel fell into tune with the ballad on the radio, and his features softened.

"En la turbación, más allá del sol, más allá del sol."

His singing was nothing like his voice, the gruffness vanished and the rough edge softened. It was light and gentle, soothing and rivaling the artist on the radio. It was homely.

"Yo tengo un hogar, hogar bello hogar."

You weren't sure where or what you were running to, but you thought that whatever it was would, maybe, feel like this.

A warmth sat in your chest now, not just in place of where the rain had left its chill but where a deep void had been, a cold emptiness that had driven you to run in the first place.

This, you realized, was the feeling you were chasing. You just hadn't expected to find it in the back of a stranger's cab.

You pulled off the main road and turned onto a smaller street. The curbs were flooded and the traffic lights shone dimly through the downpour. You cringed at the thought of leaving your little haven, with its calming music, warm coat and absolute enigma of a driver.

"Here's fine," you said, gently tapping the seat in front of you twice in case the sound of rain against glass had drowned out your voice. You caught his gaze in the mirror again, his brows were pulled together, concerned, but he complied and pulled over all the same.

Within a moment of the car slowing to a halt against the path, he turned fully in his seat to face you.

The airport was at least another twenty minute drive and it was a half an hour to the nearest train station. But you'd watched the red numbers on the fair counter as they went up. This was as close as your money could get you.

You shrugged off his coat, the act sluggish and slow with hesitance. As you attempted to hand it back, he pulled away, raising his hands like the item of clothing would burn him.

"Keep it, carinõ. You need it more than me."

You rushed to refuse, practically tossing it back to him. But your fight was short lived and in the end your cabbie reigned victorious.

You reached for the door handle, catching sight of him resetting the fair counter to zero without your payment. He hadn't expected you to see so you decided not to comment.

"There's nowhere else I can take you?" He asked. His voice was so soothing you almost wanted to say yes just to spend more time with him.

You opened the car door, hoping he didn't notice you slipping thirty pound into the pocket of the backseat. It took several attempts of carefully crafted sentences topped with faux confidence to convince him you were fine being left where you were.

“Thank you,” you said, buttoning up his jacket and sending a stiff wave his way. “You've really helped me out.”

Then you were gone, disappearing into the worsening night. And the rain had gotten heavier.

Jake had always prized himself for his indifference; His ability to stumble upon something and, for the most part, decide that it wasn't his problem.

But as he pulled back onto the road and left you stood on the sidewalk, something that felt an awful lot like guilt settled in his stomach. He didn't know why, he'd done his job; ferried you from A to B. And he'd been generous even at that, given that the rain on your clothes had soaked into the leather seats.

But the way you'd sat huddled up and looking impossibly small in the back seat, it stirred up something in Jake he'd dare call an emotion. He'd offered you his jacket, yes, but that was just being gentlemanly, he assured himself.

The car slowed to a halt at the command of a red light, the rain seeming almost louder now that the car was stationary. Jake turned up the radio. There was an angry rumble of thunder in the distance.

"Ay dios mío." Jake drove through the traffic lights and swerved into the other lane. The worsening weather thankfully meant no one was in attendance to attest to his horrific violation of traffic safety.

A minute of backtracking and you finally came into view, battling your way through the wind and rain, his coat serving as pretty useless armour.

You looked like the human personification of misery.

He stopped the car beside you and rolled the window down, raising his voice over the sound of the rain.

"Get in."

You stared at him as though you'd just experienced the strangest bout of deja vu.

"What?"

"You spend another minute out in this and you'll catch your death and personally I don't want to be responsible for you dying of pneumonia."

He was your cabbie. He shouldn't feel responsible for anything about you. Except perhaps for the fact that he was down twenty-one pound in fairs.

Almost to emphasize Jake's point, you sneezed, sinking into his coat as you did.

God give him strength.

He muttered under his breath, before leaning over his armrest and opening the passenger-side door.

"Come on, don't make me beg."

You regarded him again, much like you did when he first took pity on you and pulled over and Jake suddenly remembered that, yes, this definitely wasn't something regular cabbies did.

"Carinõ, if I had murder on my mind I would have done it back on Leyfield Road." He smirked. "You getting in the car now just lets me have a good night's sleep tonight."

You were skeptical, he could tell. But the feel of his jacket sat heavily against your shoulders seemed to remind you that his intentions were good; or not bad at the very least.

As you stepped off the curb and back into the car, Jake took an unburdened breath for the first time since dropping you off. As he kicked the cab back into gear he stole a glance at you, now sitting to his right.

You were shaking, hair drenched and droplets of water falling down your cheeks and dripping from the end of your nose. He felt like he'd plucked a drowning kitten from the gutter and put it in the front seat, all bundled up in his clothes.

You thanked him and Jake nodded, glad that you hadn't asked for an explanation for his sudden change of profession; from cab driver to protector of the traveller's of the night.

"What now?" you asked instead. A fair question. Jake sighed.

"How do you feel about coffee?"

thank you for reading!

moon knight tag list: @bakerstreethound @yoditopascal @moonlighy @linkpk88 @spideysimpossiblegirl @noahspector @malaanii @ineedmorejakelockley @drmeowingfangirl @loonymagizoologist @othersideoftheparadise @doozywoozy @mywellspringoflife

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Linger

Sirius Black x rockstar! f!reader

warnings: smut, p in v, rough sex, like pretty rough guys he bites you till you bleed, underage drinking, underage smoking, a lot of smoking tbh, drunkish sex, kinda has a plot so yeah lmk if i missed anything

summary: you and your band mates decide to go out to a pub, where you end up meeting the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: guys i’m so bad at these summaries holy. this is probably my favorite fic i’ve written. the flirting and the tension like omg. trust me. also, let’s pretend The Runaways are british and let’s pretend everything id accurate hahaha. enjoy ;)

~~~

“Do you think we’ll be recognized tonight?”

You turn to your bandmate, Joan, and shrug. “It’s fifty-fifty.”

“What pub are we going to again?” She asks.

“The one where they let underage people in, of course, you’re still the only one who’s twenty-one in the band you know,” you reply.

The other two members of your band, Sandy and Lita, are ahead of you, engulfed in their own conversation. You slide your hands into the pockets of your jacket and try to keep up. You’ve been in the band for a few months as the new lead singer. Their old one left to start her own band, claiming it to be more successful. Yet your band is the one that’s gotten sold-out shows, interviews on television, and pictures in magazines. Sometimes you like to think it was fate that she left, and you just so happened to be in town the night they were holding auditions. The fans surely enjoy your voice more, they make you out to be the leader even though you’re only seventeen and the newest member. You don’t mind though, and neither do your bandmates.

It’s almost ten when you arrive at the pub and thankfully no one has recognized you yet, or they have and simply haven’t said anything. There’s no one at the door to check IDs just like Sandy had said. The four of you enter fast and find a table. The music is loud, the lights are low, and people are dancing all over. You like it, a lot.

“Drinks?” Lita questions a few seconds after you sit.

“You know it!” Joan replies.

“I’ll be right back then.”

Sandy takes out a pack of cigarettes. “Care for one?”

“Obviously,” you answer, holding your hand out. She hands you one, you’re quick to light it and stick it between your lips, inhaling a deep breath of smoke. “How come the police haven’t found this place?”

Joan rolls her eyes. “They have.”

“And? Why don’t they shut it down?”

“They have people who come here, of course, sons, daughters, you know that sort of thing. It may be illegal but it’s trustworthy,” she explains. “Why do you care anyway?”

You shrug. “Just curious I suppose.”

Lita arrives back at the table, four glasses held in her arms. You take yours fast, eager to taste whatever liquor she got for you. It’s bitter, with a hint of sweetness in it. Based on the color as well, your guess is some sort of vodka mix. You drink it despite the awful aftertaste it leaves in your mouth. The cigarette between your fingers helps a bit. The four of you talk for a while and enjoy the peace of having no fans around.

“You should go to the bar y/n,” Lita says after some time. “Or well it might be too late now, but when I was there, I saw a boy your age, remarkably handsome.”

Sandy laughs. “You’re trying to send her home with someone already?”

Lita nudges the other girl with her shoulder. “No, I’m only trying to get some new song material.”

“We’ll see if there’s any potential,” you say, taking the last sip of your drink and getting up. You brush down your hair. “Do I look alright?”

“You’re always beautiful,” Joan answers, letting out a cloud of smoke.

“Wish me luck.” You chuckle before heading to the bar.

With every step you take, you feel eyes on you. Most belong to older men who shouldn’t even be paying you any mind. You’re used to the feeling of being watched, with all the fans and paparazzi that corner you before and after gigs. So, you move through the pub without a second thought about it.

In the back of your head, you curse yourself for not asking Lita what the guy looks like. For a moment you question how you’re supposed to find him, but then your curious eyes find one guy who stands out. He’s leaning on the wall, a glass in his hand and a cigarette between his lips. Based on his face, you figure he can’t be more than nineteen. And oh, how right Lita was. His hair is dark and long, almost reaching his shoulders. He’s dressed in a simple white tee shirt and baggy jeans. Despite the distance, you swear you can make out a sliver of a tattoo on his shoulder. He’s gorgeous, almost too gorgeous.

You approach him carefully, thinking of different opening lines in your head. Would it be wrong to use your fame to get him to take you home? Probably. But you’ve seen Joan do it plenty of times. She always says it’s simply a tool and that you should use it to your advantage. You’ve never done it though. Perhaps it’s your little amount of consciousness that remains that tells you it’s wrong. You don’t know and the alcohol in your system doesn’t help. So, when you reach him, you say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Hi.”

He looks at you, the cigarette dangling between his lips. “Hello.”

“How old are you?” You ask, immediately feeling stupid for such a question.

“What are you a cop?” He chuckles.

You feel your cheeks heat up. “No uh... sorry.”

“It’s fine love, just not a very good pick-up line,” he replies. He takes his cigarette out, his eyes locked on yours. “Especially since you look like you’re sixteen.”

“Seventeen actually.” You correct him.

“Ah, well there’s something we share then.”

Something about the way he’s looking at you comforts you. There’s no recognition in his eyes at all. You can tell. To him, you are just another girl. Not the lead singer of The Runaways. Just a simple girl.

“You can try again if you’d like,” he says. You look at him, confused. “Try another pick-up line.”

You gently smile and think for a few seconds. Nothing better comes to mind.

“Come here often?”

He laughs. “Somehow I think that was worse than the first one.”

“Sorry. Usually, I’m better at this sort of thing,” you reply. You put your hands back in your pockets, suddenly feeling very hot with embarrassment.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s cute.”

There’s a moment of silence. He takes a sip of his drink; you stare at his hand. The way it looks wrapped around the glass makes your stomach fill with butterflies. You hate how much you want him to take you home. You don’t even know his name. But he’s handsome, so much so it makes you unable to think straight. You need to know more.

“Are you from around here?”

He nods. “Born and raised in London. You?”

For a split second you wonder, if he’s from London how come he doesn’t know who you are? Sure, your band isn’t on the same level of success as Queen or ACDC but you’re also not underground. You push the thought away.

“Originally from Westchester but now I’m here in London for... work,” you answer.

“Work? I thought you were seventeen.”

“Yes but, eighteen next month. I already finished school.”

He takes another drag of his cigarette. “Wish I could say the same, I still have another year left. Though, I rather enjoy school, gets me away from my dear parents.”

“Oh, where do you go?”

You notice the way he shifts his posture. “Out of the country, you wouldn’t know of it.”

“Like a boarding school?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

You look around the pub, a slight feeling of awkwardness blooming within you. You don’t know why you’re so nervous. You’ve done this before. You decide to blame it on the cheap vodka because really, you’re better than this.

“So, what’s your name then?” You ask after a few more minutes.

“Does it really matter?” He replies, catching you a bit off guard. He flicks the ash off his cigarette, his dark eyes on yours. “All of it’s the same.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Don’t play dumb love, I know this isn’t your first time. I’m sure you’ve chatted up many other lads and had them take you home.” There’s something about the tone in which he speaks that has your knees almost wobble.

“Why would you think that?”

He sighs, leaning over to a small table discards his cigarette in an ashtray, and leaves his glass. When he leans back on the wall, now with both of his hands-free, he buries them in the pockets of his baggy jeans. He looks down at you with an expression that could send your morals far out of mind. You want him, terribly. And you think he knows this.

“Besides the fact that you said you’re usually better at this, you’re also possibly the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he eventually answers.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “I highly doubt that, but nevertheless thanks for the compliment.”

“I mean it. Most girls I see still wear those long skirts and sweaters, but you, you’re dressed like you could pass as a rock star.”

Your face heats up once again. You know he’s right. With your leather jacket, flared jeans, high-heeled boots, and small tight top you know it’s clear what kind of person you are. Your makeup only adds to it, black smudged eyeliner and glitter on your eyes. It’s a toned-down version of what you wear on stage. He doesn’t need to know that though.

You give him a smile and shrug. “Rock is my favorite genre, what can I say? You sort of got that look too though, not quite as intense.”

“Not a gentleman?” He chuckles.

“No.” You laugh, shaking your head. “At least I hope not.”

“I see. You don’t fancy the good boys. Well fortunately for you, I’m a bit of a troublemaker. At least, that’s what my schoolmates and family say,” he mentions. “What’s wrong with the good boys anyway? They could treat you like a lady.”

“Too gentle, I’m not a fan of it,” you answer honestly.

He smirks, sending warmth straight to your core. “So is your intention to get me out of here and treat you... not gently?”

“My intention is simply to buy you another drink, maybe enjoy a dance or two. What happens at the end of the night is not particularly on my mind right now. I’m more focused on learning your name. Why? Is that what you’d fancy?” You counter, looking up at him through your long lashes.

It has the effect you hoped for because he stands up straight, his back finally off the wall. He offers his hand to you, and you take it softly in yours. It’s so much bigger, so much warmer. You try your hardest to kill all the thoughts of where else you’d like him to touch you with his hand.

“Sirius Black,” he introduces himself.

“Like the star?” You question without thinking.

“Yes, like the star. Now what’s your name.”

“Y/n y/l/n,” you say.

“Charmed. So, how about that drink?”

You smile. It’s going to be a good night, you know it.

The next few hours go by in a flash. You and Sirius drink more than you probably should and dance to the many different songs that play on the jut box. A few different times throughout the night you find the eyes of your bandmates, each of them giving you big smiles and thumbs up as they watch you with Sirius. At one point Joan makes a lewd hand gesture, and you barely get a chance to see Lita smack her. It’s past twelve when you find yourself outside the pub with Sirius sitting on a curb sharing a cigarette.

“I hate these bloody shoes,” you mumble as you dig your heel into the pavement. “They make my feet sore.”

“Then why do you wear them?” Sirius asks, amusement evident in his tone.

You exhale a long breath of smoke, passing the half-burnt cigarette back to him. “I dunno. Beauty is pain.”

“For some, but I’m sure even without those things you’re just as pretty. Actually, I would bet pounds on that being true,” he replies.

“I think I’m rather plain without all this. Would you think the same of me without my makeup and outfit?”

You watch him smirk. “I should think you look even prettier without all of that on. Especially the clothes.”

Your stomach fills with butterflies for the thousandth time tonight. Your shyness left hours ago when you took your first shot. So, instead of simply blushing and looking away, you stand and look down at him with your own smirk.

“Quite the charmer. How about you find come back to mine and find out for yourself?”

He takes one last drag of the cigarette before standing, flicking it to the pavement, and crushing it beneath his sneaker. You watch helplessly as he releases a cloud of smoke, his hand now held out to you.

“I’d quite like that. Lead the way.”

~~~

You don’t know how you keep your composure the whole way home, especially with Sirius’s hand handing yours the entire time. On the train, as you sit, your head on his shoulder, he rubs his thumb across your knuckles. It’s a gesture that makes you glad you aren’t standing because your legs feel like jelly. And on the walk up to your apartment, he lets go of your hand and instead places it on the small of your back. You almost fall down the stairs at the contact.

Once you’re inside you immediately take off your boots, leaving them somewhere by the front door. Your jacket follows, only it’s hung on one of your kitchen chairs. When you turn to look at Sirius you find his eyes wandering all over your apartment, examining the details you assume. His sneakers are off, his hands are in his pockets.

“You must have a special job, this place is wonderful,” he says.

“My mates help me with the money, it’s not all mine,” you reply. It’s true, they do help you earn money from performing. You step closer to him, your hands behind your back. “And it’s really not that big. One bedroom, one bathroom, and one very tiny living room combined with the kitchen. But it’s more than enough for me. Would you like the tour?”

“Of course, if the tour starts in your bedroom.”

You can’t help the blush that takes over your face. “Follow me.”

The walk is fast, with every step you feel your heart rate increase. You’ve done this a few times, but for some reason, this time feels different. Perhaps it’s because all the other guys can’t compare to Sirius’s beauty in the slightest. Or perhaps it’s because you already like him a bit more than you should for a one-nighter. You don’t know. And you don’t care to know because you’re about to reach your door.

You open the door fast, letting him in first, and closing it behind you. It’s dark, the only lights coming from outside your small window. You don’t reach for the lights though. Instead, you step closer to the boy, the sound of your breathing suddenly far too loud for your liking. His silhouette moves closer to you as well. It’s almost like there’s an invisible force pushing the two of you together, and you find yourself liking it.

He touches you first. One of his hands finds your waist, he guides you to him faster. Soon enough, you’re practically pressed against him. You can barely breathe from the proximity. You’ve never felt something this intense. You look up at him, your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Still want me to not be gentle?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I want you to ruin me,” you say, pressing one of your hands to his chest. You’re happy to find his heart is racing just like yours. “Don’t hold back.”

“Alright.”

Before you can even think of another thought, his lips are on yours. You kiss back instantaneously, your hand moving up into his hair. It’s soft, like you expected. He’s far from gentle with his kissing, and you’re glad. His lips move fast on yours, his teeth scraping your tongue. He bites down on your lip so hard you whimper, and the metallic taste of your blood clouds your senses.

Still, despite the pain, when he pulls back you almost whine from the loss of contact. But his hands move fast to pull your shirt up. You help him get it off, then move to his. Through the darkness, you can see the few tattoos he has on his chest and shoulder. They’re dark, they’re beautiful. You run your fingertips over them as he leans back down and connects your lips once again. You begin to guide the two of you towards your bed.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. Sirius doesn’t follow you though. Instead, he stands between your legs at the foot of the bed and begins to undo the buttons of your jeans. You watch in awe, lifting your hips to help him drag them down your legs, leaving you only in your bra and panties. You sit up, your eyes on him, as you start undoing his belt.

After his jeans are on the floor he pushes you back down on the mattress, climbing over you this time. You kiss him deeply, dragging one of your hands down his warm back, and weaving the other through his hair. That warmth deep inside you has grown, consuming you entirely. You can feel the wetness between your legs, surely staining your panties. You’ve never been so turned on by a guy in your life.

He suddenly parts your kiss, his lips beginning to move down your jaw and neck. You moan, throwing your head back to give him more access. When he bites down on you, so hard you can feel a stinging from it breaking skin, you pull at his hair, sounds of pleasure escaping your swollen lips.

Eventually, after leaving many hickeys and bite marks on your neck, he pulls back entirely and flips you over onto your stomach. You smirk against the mattress as you feel him unclip your bra. To help get it off, you lift yourself on your hands, and the straps quickly fall. You throw it off without even thinking about it. You’re about to turn back but Sirius presses a hand between your shoulder blades, silently telling you to stay as you are. You don’t hesitate to comply.

You feel him move and instinctively you lift your hips in the air. He places a kiss on your back, it almost makes you shiver. Then his hands are on your hips, pulling your last piece of clothing off. You normally would feel some sense of vulnerability at this point. Completely naked with your ass in the air. But the alcohol mixed with the utter need you have for Sirius takes control. You feel him shift.

“Do you have a rubber?” The sound of his voice makes you squeeze your legs together.

“Unless you have a disease, you don’t need one. I’m on birth control,” you answer, looking over your shoulder at him.

“No diseases I swear,” he says.

“Then proceed.”

You get up properly on all fours, the anticipation killing you. When he positions his tip at your entrance, you inhale sharply. He rubs his cock through your wet folds for a few seconds, brushing against your clit ever so slightly, before thrusting inside you in one quick, hard motion. You can’t help the moan that leaves you. He’s big, stretching you in a way that’s on the brink of being painful. It’s perfect.

He fucks you hard, very hard. Each thrust hits that spot inside you that makes your legs shake. At one point, your arms give out and your face presses against the mattress. Your hands twist in the sheets, your moans muffled by the bed. Sirius doesn’t like this. He twists one of his hands in your hair and pulls you up, the pain only adding to the building of your orgasm.

“Sirius,” you gasp. “Fuck Sirius.”

He’s relentless. He fucks you through your first orgasm, not faltering for even a second. He only stops when you can’t hold yourself up anymore, pulling out and flipping you onto your back. You scratch your nails down his back as he begins to fuck you in missionary, your lips on his.

You don’t know how long passes by the time he tells you he’s close. What you do know is that your second orgasm is not far either. With tears in your eyes, you let him switch positions once again, this time you’re on top of him. Your muscles are weak and sore, but that doesn’t stop you from riding him as well as you can. Sweat covers your body, and incoherent words drip off your lips. You can barely take it anymore.

“I-I’m almost there,” you mumble.

“Me too love,” Sirius replies, his breath ragged. “Finish us both off.”

You struggle to hold yourself up, a tear rolling down your cheek. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can, just a few more minutes,” he assures you, running one of his hands through your hair.

Much to his word, in a few minutes, he finishes. Hard. He moans your name in an indescribable tone, and his cock pulses inside you so intently, it causes your second orgasm to occur. As this happens, you lie on his chest, both of your breathing very uneven. He holds you tight against him.

Eventually, you roll off him and stare at your ceiling. You try to comprehend what just happened. Never in your life have you experienced something so intense. Most of the time when you told guys to be rough with you, they’d be turned off. But Sirius... You turn to your side to face him.

“Want a smoke?”

“Certainly.”

~~~

It’s safe to say, you don’t let him go all summer. You spend every second you can with him. Most of the time in your sheets, but a good amount doing other things. You paint his nails black, teach him how to wear eyeliner, and how to dress more like yourself. You enjoy every second you get with him.

He never does discover your fame, at least he never says so. You think he would know. Each time you go out you try your hardest to be unnoticeable and you always hide away magazines and switch the channel whenever something about your band is shown. But he never does say anything. Sometimes at night, you sing to him softly and you always laugh when he tells you that you should take it professionally.

You learn how much he hates his family, except for his little brother. You learn he loves Queen and David Bowie. You learn his favorite color is ironically black. You learn as much about him as you can and with each fact you do learn, you only fall more for him. But you never speak of it. You know the inevitable ending.

On the night before he goes back to school, the two of you lay in your bed, a thick silence between you. As usual, you pass a cigarette back and forth. Only this time, there are no words accompanying. Until he speaks.

“For once, I’m not looking forward to going back.”

You turn to your stomach and look at him. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“Me either,” he agrees. He holds the cigarette to you; you take it fast. “I can phone you if you want. You know, while I’m there. Or send letters.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” You question.

“I think I really fancy you, and I don’t want to leave on a bad note.”

You give him a weak smile and press a kiss on his bare shoulder. “Oh, Sirius.”

~~~

A few months later...

“Five minutes till show time,” an assistant tells you.

You’re sitting in your dressing room backstage. Joan, Sandy, and Lita all have their own space now. You find it funny how much The Runaways have blown up since the summer. Now, everywhere you turn you see yourself in a magazine or a news article. You can’t go anywhere without being recognized, or without the paparazzi showing up.

As you look in the mirror your mind travels back to Sirius. This happens a lot. Right before a concert, you think of him. Sometimes you wonder if maybe he’s out there listening. You haven’t heard from him since he went to school. You aren’t angry, only a bit sad. You’re mostly grateful though. He inspired most of the songs in your number-one album that got the band all the new attention.

You stand from the vanity and sigh. Tonight, your performance is being televised worldwide. Beside the door is your guitar, you pick it up as you begin your journey out to the stage. You’ve got a good lineup, even a small intermission for a happy birthday song. You hope wherever he is he hears it.

After all, it is November 3rd.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Random hybrid! AU idea that I have floating around my head rn (featuring reader x poly!141 dynamics) 😎

So I’m picturing a world where hybrids are often treated like second class citizens. They can have jobs, but they don’t achieve high status in them, and more often than not will have humans manage or mind them. They’re very similar to humans, but often have smaller statures and of course have tails and ears of animals, sometimes even horns or feathers or claws. Generally hybrids will be sent to jobs they’re best suited to according to their ‘breed’.

One of those jobs can be serving in the military, in fact in this AU it’s encouraged for families to send their hybrids to jobs that they can ‘live away’ in just so that the government can curb trends in neglect and stop antisocial behaviour from runaway hybrids. Our MC is one of these hybrids that gets sent away, born to a family of two humans that couldn’t understand how they’d ended up with a kid with defective ‘dog’ genes.

Of course, reader grows up with a chip on their shoulder because of their crappy parents, so pretty much from the get go in their new job they’re a cheeky shit. They don’t take orders well, they’re constantly being disciplined, they mouth off, they’re sloppy and ultimately they don’t want to be there.

However after a brutal few months of punishment reader eventually caves. They do a good enough job that eventually the traits that make them difficult, become the ones that make them hard as nails. They’re the ones that make reader actually proud of something for once in their life, their capability to do what others cannot.

And for years reader serves and does their job well, though never having the black mark of their bad beginnings scrubbed from their record. Other hybrids have soldiers choose them, to be their permanent handlers and serve them on the field for as long as they live. Though reader never gets the pleasure, as much as they start to yearn for someone that might want them, that might wish to train them and take the time to smooth out their still jagged edges. No one ever wants to take the chance. No one wants the onus of shepherding the black sheep.

Then Ghost shows up.

He comes to the grounds and says his Captain, a man named Price, has ordered for a hybrid to join their team. They need one that can keep up in stressful environments, one that can move fast and take orders quickly. He stressed how deadly the jobs would be and immediately the handlers are balking, not wanting to waste their well trained hybrids on a task force with a near constant suicide mission. Until they remember that you’re still around. Little smart mouth sod that you are, wouldn’t be much of a waste if they were back again after disposing of you.

And so you’re pretty much sent off packing with a kick on your arse and a silent but ever inferred ‘don’t fucking come back’ order.

When you first get a proper look at the skull mask clad giant, you’re scared shitless. The handlers had done some damage to you in their time, but this man stood multiple feet above you and could take you out with one swipe. The fear he elicits is enough to keep you quiet for at least 5 minutes until you’re back to your usual self. Back to the wolf that growls and snarls and bites at the bars, the one that tries to keep the hurt at bay with a flash of their bloodied teeth.

Ghost sees through the act right away. He knows how bad hybrids have it, he has an inkling of what you’ve been through. So instead of treating you how they would, instead of grabbing your scruff and going to hit you and slam down that ‘insolent’ personality of yours he shows you the utmost amount of patience and kindness.

He gently undoes your too-tight collar and replaces it with one from his bag. He puts a couple fingers under the leather just to make sure it’s comfortable for you. Even after you grunt at him when he asks if it’s ok, he just huffs out a laugh at you and ruffles the hair between your ears, rubbing a flat palm around your fluffy head. He doesn’t even care when you growl at him for it, something you’d have been lashed for before. Instead he withdraws his hand and respects your space. He even leads you to a car and has you sit in the backseat with him, telling you after that it’s alright to lean against him and get some rest if you’d like!

Already you feel like your defences are shaking loose. You’re not quite sure of yourself. No matter how many snide remarks you make at the man he doesn’t try to correct you, he doesn’t even give you a cuff around the ears. He just shrugs you off and gives you watchful looks, sizing you up and making you feel even tinier than you are.

It unnerves you like nothing else and ultimately, as you start to dose off and slip ever closer to Ghost, you wonder what the rest of his team will be like. You wonder if maybe your new posting is just the change you’d been craving…

[fatcatlittlebox]

I’ve made a few edits about the theme of horses in TROP and I thought it was a good time to write a meta about it. It recurs especially in season 1 and a bit in season 2. The reason why it is less prevalent this past season is because there is a close association with Galadriel and Halbrand’s relationship.

In season 1, Galadriel and Halbrand were both adrift when they meet each other. But there was an upside to being presumed dead and exiled. They were free. None of the restrictions of social expectations, rivalries and even leadership to confine to. Sauron calls Numenor a “paradise ripe with opportunity.” Part of it is because he sees societal vulnerabilities that could be taken advantage of, part of it is the potential for reinventing themselves or at the very least, correcting the mistakes and miscalculations of the past. It is a return to innocence, in a way. You see them present, allowing themselves to feel their emotions in a way they didn’t have the luxury of doing before. And they get to explore all of that “newness” with each other. The initial Biblical symbolism here reminds me of Adam and Eve. As the story unfolds though, the Adam figure (in this case Halbrand) becomes the serpent (serpents are used often too but that’s another analysis). But when Galadriel really comes alive is when you see her ride.

This is the first time you see Galadriel on a horse and she is joyful, unguarded and free. This is her spirit. And Halbrand, despite never having seen her ride yet, associates her with a horse because he tapped into this feeling. He has seen it in her soul. For the rest of the story this theme will resurface.

We later see Halbrand and Galadriel traverse Middle Earth on horses. It’s not simply a practical point. This is something they share: "I felt it too." And they are galloping. Always. This is part of his implied promise to her: that she can always feel this way. With him — an unbridled, heedless rush of power and purpose. The peace of constant running, constant fighting. She cannot stop. And he will be at her side.

When she thanks him for “pulling [her] back,” it is meant to recall the bond between them. But in this instance, that thread is reining in the other’s self-destructiveness as if that fire were a runaway horse. They each believe the other would hold them true: “See what happens when you stop galloping and you give yourself a moment to think?” These words left their mark in Galadriel and will continue to reverberate in different ways, unexpectedly.

Season 2 is dramatically different. Galadriel is not shown riding a horse at all, with 2 key exceptions. In the very first shot that reintroduces her, she is in a horse chase with Elrond. This is very much meant to reestablish a key aspect of Galadriel’s spirit, but also look at her face.

It is frenzied and fiery. It's meant to show the lingering effects of Sauron’s influence on Galadriel like she’s hungover from the intoxication. This is confirmed later when Elrond compares her to a horse, recalling their spiritual intimacy and perhaps suggesting a physical one. And as this shot implies, that “he never left.” Elrond is seen here, trying to lead her back to the light.

For the rest of her journey and the rest of the season, she travels on foot. Not out of preference, but because she is in the company of Elrond. He is cautious, methodical. Intent on not drawing attention and because he values reconnaissance and observation as much as action. This is not how Galadriel operates and it becomes symbolic of the tension in their friendship. She acquiesces for the greater good. She respects her friend, but ultimately she will do what she must if it will bring her closer to her end goal: facing Sauron.

But when she sees the opportunity to break apart from the pack, she takes it and takes charge. What is the first thing she does then? LOL she takes a horse! Her horse is on literally on fire. What a visual.

It is brave, but rash and reckless. Her headstrong belief in her own righteousness keeps driving her to isolation, to stand alone. And that is how fundamentally different Elrond and Galadriel view the world at this point. Galadriel is always thinking of the bigger picture, the greater war. She says to Halbrand as much: "You leapt into the sea to save one life. I seek to save many." This is not too far off from something Sauron would cosign and part of the reason he gravitated to her so naturally. He is also a "bigger picture" thinker, or so he believes. He would break the world to remake it. Galadriel is always thinking of the war and much less the human (or elven) cost. And it’s not because they hold no value. It’s because in her mind, there is no nobler sacrifice. She doesn't think twice at offering her own blood, her body and even her soul if it would serve the greater good.

Horses continue to play a significant role in the ensuing battle when Elrond leads the charge against Adar. A whole mounted host is galloping full force and is about to unleash upon the orcs until Elrond sees Galadriel. In that brief moment, he halts his horse. Despite their plans, their momentum, and the emotions of battle, he makes a decision that one life, the life of his friend, would turn the tide. And Saurons advice from the past looms over this moment: "See what happens when you stop galloping and you give yourself a moment to think?" Is this merely a callback or did Sauron know? For this moment is so very important because it legitimizes Elrond in the eyes of the orcs as a leader who values the lives of his kin. The first seed here is planted. That's why later, during their parley when Elrond remarks that their conflict will result in the deaths of countless orcs, his observation is authenticated by his previous act. What Adar had interpreted as a weakness of Elrond is reversed as a weapon. He is sowing the seeds of doubt and resentment. It's interesting how far Sauron's words echo even in the actions of those who are the furthest away from his shadow. Is it because this is his design and the labyrinth is that all-encompassing? Or is he simply able to navigate people's desires, hate, dreams and fears so well that it becomes like a map laid out before him. He simply knows where to step at the right time and place.