#she takes one step into the water and he can immediately feel how embarrassed and nervous she is. Offers vague reassurances.

[toasteaa]

Wait beach episode eclair i need them on a beach date (i just want her to dape neuvi in a sand mermaid or summ)

BEACH EPISODE ECLAIRETTE MY GODDDDDD

I couldn't think of the rest of this answer at first because I got brain blasted with the image of swimsuit edition Eclair with a water gun running through some waves and will eventually need to do a summertime event piece for her...

I love how I'm supposed to be thinking of a beach date for them, but then it turned into some Fontaine summer event for the traveler and Paimon. You don't see Eclair and Neuvillette on their date until the end of the event - as usual LOL

Also I can't help but imagine that as much as Neuvillette loves spending time on the beach, he hates the feeling of dry sand against his skin. It's hot, it's irritating, and it sticks to everything. Staying in or near the water is always much more preferable, but then he remembers that he has to get out of the water at some point and back on the hot and dry sand and his horns get all droopy and wjdjsxjsjxj

Eclairette beach dates always turn into a swimming date in some form or fashion. And they usually only happen in the morning/mid morning or the evening/at night. Much easier to swim with your dragon bf and see all his pretty iridescent scales that way. Skinny dipping too 😏

[pasukiyo]

DAYDREAM

college baseball player!leon kennedy x f!reader word count; 2,675 warnings; oral (f receiving), this one really just gets right to the point tbh lol, leon's kind of an fboy summary; just get your notes back from leon. it's not going to be difficult, right? all you have to do is walk in, don't get distracted by how ridiculously sexy he looks swinging a bat, ask for them back, and leave!

 She tightens the grip she has on the strap of her bag as she pushes open the door to the batting cages and immediately, the sound of a metal bat against a baseball echoes and rattles her brain. She winces but presses forward, willing herself to breathe as she walks down past empty cages until she finally finds the one Leon Kennedy is in. He doesn’t see her, for he’s in his batting stance, completely focused on the self-serving pitching machine before him.  

 He’s in a dark-colored, short-sleeved muscle tee and gray athletic sweatpants, and although she’s not one to stare, she can see beads of sweat drip down the bulging muscles of his biceps, even from where she stands. She cannot see his face, as his back is turned to her, but she can imagine his lips as they press together, his dark brows knit together in concentration. Her skin begins to burn and the pitching machine releases a ball and she watches as he hits it with ease, sending it hurling towards the back net of the cage. 

 She’s suddenly frozen in her place, unable to tear her eyes away from him as he uses his hand, covered in a batting glove, to wipe sweat from his forehead, swinging his bat in a circular motion to get back into position for the next pitch. She stares at him like she’s in some sort of trance and all she can think about is how big his arms are, how strong he is and how she’d love for him to use that strength on her…

 She tries to shake the thoughts away herself, but it is the sound of Leon Kennedy’s voice that breaks her from her trance altogether. 

 “Oh, you’re here.”

 She flinches and color warms her cheeks as she realizes he’s looking at her now as he exits the cage, undoing the Velcro of his batting gloves and tossing them on the bench. She’s unsure what to do with herself and she tries to avoid meeting his gaze, shifting uncomfortably where she stands. 

 “Yeah, I’m… I’m, um, here for the… for the—“

 “The notes?”

 “Mhmm,” she hums, nodding and god, she wishes the universe would just mistake her for a corpse and claim her into temporary unconsciousness. She wrings the strap of her bag and steals a swift glance towards Leon as he eyes her from over the rim of his water bottle, the corner of his lips curled up in a smirk. She looks away again as he sets his water down, digging through his backpack. 

 “Thanks for letting me borrow them,” he says as he finally fishes them out, outstretching them towards her. She can see her notebook dangling from Leon’s hand just from the top of her vision and she dips her chin, taking a cautious step forward. 

 “I hope they helped,” she says, reaching forward to grab her notes. Before she can reach them, however, he pulls away, the grin on his lips widening. She blinks up at him, feeling smaller than she felt before and embarrassed, unsure how to take up space. She decides to clasp a hand around her wrist, uncertain what she should say.

 “Yeah, you know…” he begins, dropping the notebook to rest in the crook of his arm, peeling open the cover and flipping through pages. “…I really appreciated all the little doodles and stuff in the margins.”

 There’s a moment where everything seems to freeze and all she can hear is her heartbeat drumming in her ears and all she can feel is the sweat collecting at her hairline as it begins to fall down the sides of her face. Realization comes in the form of blood biting her cheeks and when Leon sees the moment she realizes, he tries his hardest to stifle his laugh, pressing his lips together. 

 And god, all she can think about is either melting into a pile of sludge at their feet and crawling away like a snail or screaming ‘fuck it’ while pulling his lips into her because it’s just not fair when he looks like that. Instead, she tries reaching for the notebook again, alas, her efforts are in vain. 

 Her hands fall to her sides and she huffs, again, trying to look anywhere but at him. “Can you give it back?” She asks quietly, surprised she was even able to speak at all. She dares a glance up at him to find he’s already peeking up at her, a mischievous gleam in that dark ocean in his eyes that she isn’t sure whether to drop to her knees or slap him in the face for. 

 “What? It’s cute,” he snickers, flipping the notebook over, and pointing his finger to the corner of one of the pages. “I especially like the little heart you drew at the end of my name here.”

 She blinks and nearly whimpers in mortification as she once again tries to snatch the notebook from his hand, but he raises his arm, using his other to draw her in closer by the small of her back. She yelps when her chest meets his and suddenly, they’re close, too close. She can feel his breath loom over her face like rolling smoke and his stare bears down on her body, making her stomach twist into knots. 

 She’s all too aware of his hand pressing against her back, of his body against hers, of her heartbeat thudding against his chest. She’s so close that it would feel awkward for their eyes not to meet but oh, how she wishes she couldn’t at this moment. 

All she saw now in his eyes was the embodiment of a bad idea, all she could see was desire and temptation and trouble. And she was a good girl, she always played by the rules, never got into any fights, or trouble with anyone. But she looks up at Leon now and wonders if she could go on just daydreaming about him any longer. She wonders what it would be like to try him out, to feel him closer than he is now, to taste him and be tasted by him. 

 Leon’s eyes flicker to her lips, and his mouth twitches. He already has her hooked, and he’s hardly touched her, much less even spoken to her. It gives him the confidence he needs to say, “you’ll need to work a little harder if you want this back.”

 Suddenly, the notebook doesn’t seem all that important to her anymore. Her gaze fleets to his lips and she hesitates, glancing back up at him. Leon’s patience runs on a very thin line, and the frayed edges of its rope are at its end so when it snaps, he pounces. 

 He lets go of the notebook and it falls to the floor with a loud smack and both of his arms are around her now, drawing her into him. Their lips meet and it’s something she’s only ever dreamed about, and it’s new and exhilarating and all she can think about is how she wants more. 

 She whimpers against his mouth as his tongue swirls against hers and his lips are a crescent against hers, one of his hands bracing itself on the side of her neck. He draws her in nearer as the other roams down the side of her body, down past the curve of her hip, to the waistband of her jeans. She can feel the sweat on his chest through his shirt and her hands brace themselves on his forearms, her palms slick with his perspiration. 

 The pads of his fingers circle her waist, tracing the line of her jeans, stopping when they reach the button. She mewls against his lips and pulls away from him, chasing air into her lungs. Leon dips his chin to find her gaze and when she allows him to, his pink, kiss-swollen lips curve. 

 “We don’t have to keep going,” He says breathlessly, and there’s something so attractive about the way he says it, with his chest heaving up and down, his voice thick and deep enough to jellify her knees. It’s hard to make sense of anything when her head swirls like a violent tempest, but what’s for certain is there’s a spark igniting between her legs, and only Leon Kennedy could be the one to quell it. “Do you want to stop?”

 Her lips buzz with the phantom of his kiss and all she can do is shake her head, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck to draw him back in. Their lips clash together like two waves in a storm and Leon’s hands are back on her hips, fumbling with the button of her jeans as his kisses trail down her face to her jaw, then to her neck. 

 She’s burning, and Leon’s like coal, stoking her flame. He’s unzipping her jeans as he backs her up towards the bench, taking her skin between his lips and sucking dark bruises into the crook of her neck. Her lips fall agape as he lets go of her flesh, pushing her down onto the bench and she kicks out of her jeans as he drops to his knees before her. 

 She can make out the outline of his abdomen through his muscle tee and she’s utterly bewitched as she watches him part her thighs, eyeing her through hooded lids. She tries to breathe although it’s hard when he’s peeling her open and exposing her in such a way, she has to fight the urge to close her legs, to shy away. It’s not he would’ve let her anyways— not when he was practically drooling at the sight before him, the pad of his thumb teasing just above her clit. 

 “Seems like this is long overdue,” he teases and she jumps when his thumb finally finds her clit, rubbing slow, tight circles on the bud. She whimpers and her toes curl, hands finding purchase on whatever she could get them on. She grasps onto the material of his baseball bag, fisting the material as he breathes a laugh. She presses her lips together and furrows her brow down at him. “Look how messy you’re getting for me already,” he titters. 

 A foreign sound leaves her throat— frustration and pleasure intertwined— as he strokes a forefinger up and down her slit agonizingly slow. She cants her hips into his hand, yearning for more and he uses his free hand to grab her waist, holding her in place. 

 “Leon,” she whines and he groans, pressing his thumb down harder against her aching clit. “God, that voice,” he mumbles, leaning in closer to her heat, his breath so close now, it sent shivers slithering down her spine. Her chest heaves up and down as he turns his head, eyes never leaving hers as he presses kisses to the inside of her thighs. 

 He enjoys this, she thinks. He enjoys teasing her, taunting her, watching the way she squirms and mewls as he does everything except what she wants him to. She would kick him in the face if it wouldn’t stop him from putting it between her legs. 

 “Please,” she whines, frustration setting her skin ablaze. He raises an eyebrow, his mouth but a whisper away from where she needs him. “I guess since you asked so nicely…” he smirks before he dives in and she’s suddenly electric. 

 His lips are like a bolt of lightning and she’s suddenly so alive, like she’s never been before. Her vision blurs and it’s like she’s falling when he flicks his tongue up against the underside of her clit. Her hand instinctively finds his hair, her back arching up from the back of the bench as she guides him in closer, deeper. 

 He hums against her and pulls away for the smallest of moments, lips glistening and agape as he pants. “So fucking good,” he murmurs and she watches through watercolor vision as he delves himself back in. A lewd, wet squelch sounds when he dips his tongue into her hole and she’s on fire, living in an oasis for all things she could only dream about in her wildest of fantasies. 

 Leon’s a man starved. 

 His eyes are a dark pool of lust that spill into hers as he stares at her from between her legs, his nose practically buried in her pussy. His tongue burrows deep in her sopping heat and he circles the muscle inside of her, groaning against her when her eyes roll, the grip she has on his dark blonde locks tightening. Her stomach twists in knots and with each stroke of his tongue, she comes deliciously close to snapping, to coming undone. 

 “Leon, fuck—! Fuck, I’m…” she mewls, unable to finish speaking through sharp breaths. He licks a stripe up from hole to clit, again and again, and she’s seeing stars. She brings his face closer, trying to reach that end she so desperately craves. 

 Leon simply relishes it all. 

 He doesn’t make attempts to speak, the stormy sea in his irises swallowed by an oblivion in the middle, his mouth hot as it circles and suckles on her clit. She’s seeing white now and the knot in her belly is shaking along with the rest of her body, her knees bent and squeezing around his head. He groans again against her cunt and as if the vibration was the extra push she needed, she unravels like a ball of yarn. 

 Leon’s mouth is still on her, guiding her through her orgasm. He circles his tongue down to her hole, lapping up every drop he can taste, making sure not even a pinch goes to waste. Her vision blurs and she feels the burning of tears on her cheeks as she drops her head backwards, staring towards the glaring white light on the ceiling. 

 Finally, Leon pulls away and he pulls himself up just enough that he can plop down on the space of the bench beside her. The shape of his head eclipses the light on the ceiling and he leans down, pressing his lips to hers. She’s exhausted but she still reciprocates, her tongue lazily waltzing around his. Her cum mixes with his saliva and she hums, scarlet shame searing her cheeks. She pulls away and Leon cups her cheek to keep her head in place, the pad of his thumb soothing over her skin. 

 “You don’t have to be so shy,” he murmurs, grinning as he playfully bops her forehead with his. Her breath releases as more of a laugh and she glances down to his chest, the way it rises up and down to the rhythm of his breath. Her fingers itch to touch him, and perhaps she would, if it hadn’t been for the sound of the door opening. 

 “Kennedy! Didn’t expect you to be—“

 She’s a statue, and she’s thankful for how quickly Leon moves to stand in front of her, kicking her jeans and underwear back towards her. Mortification seeps through to her bones and she’s suddenly moving on autopilot, bending to grab her bottoms and slip them on. 

 “Carlos! Wasn’t expecting you to be here either,” she can hear Leon say as she tugs her panties and jeans up her legs, trying to fit them over her hips without having to stand up. 

Whatever Carlos says next is completely unknown to her, for she’s rising from the bench, scrambling to snatch her bag and notebook off the ground. She’s fully prepared to book it for the door, if it hadn’t been for a hand around her wrist, spinning her around, and drawing her in closer. Leon Kennedy’s mouth is on hers for the briefest of moments and it curls into a grin as he finally releases her. Her cheeks burn and she pivots around on her heel, unable to meet Carlos Oliveira’s eye as she sprints for the exit— albeit with some effort, for her knees still feel like jelly and Leon’s goodbye-kiss rekindles a flame at her center. 

a/n; again, not my best work! kinda just easing back into writing again tbh, but hope you still enjoy! i played softball pretty much my entire childhood all the way up to my senior year of high school so i get into this headspace every once in awhile where i just imagine all my fave fictional men as baseball players lol so here is a product of that fantasy!

💿 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply! 🫶

TAGLIST

@bxbyyyjocelyn

@chaoticevilbakugo

@luckypurins

@corruptcoder

@glovesandhorror

@angelstargel

@illsksm

@echo1200

@d3adp00ls

@woahhajime

@leonkennedygvrl

@elliewilliamshotwife

@altissia-09

[sweetyyhippyy]

Anything for You. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader. *FLUFF*

Summary: Eddie helps his girlfriend take care of a messy situation

Word Count: 1.2k

TW: Periods, blood.

A.N.: Guess who's back... back again! This is a bit self indulgent because I’m (still) on my period and all I want is for Eddie to hold me and take care of me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house was pitch black as Eddie tried his hardest not to wake his sleeping girlfriend up.

He wishes he would have been smart enough to keep a flashlight near the door so he could at least see where he was going instead of feeling around the air, hoping not to bump into a piece of furniture or run into the wall like he’s done many times in the past… or 2 days ago.

Work was long today, somehow the past 3 Fridays Eddie has been stuck working 13 hour shifts, guys at the garage who come in after him being sent home before him. Sure his body was tired and worn out, but getting those checks had been nice.

Finally he reaches the bedroom, stripping his work clothes off and leaving them in a trail to the bathroom so he could shower the smell of the grease and sweat off his body before going to sleep next to his girlfriend.

He smiles at her as he passes by, only seeing the back of her head as the light from the bathroom illuminates her. There was nothing better than snuggling next to her after a long day and feeling her relax into his body in her sleep.

After rinsing the suds off his body and drying himself off, he tiptoes back into the bedroom, grabbing a pair of boxers from the laundry basket full of clean clothes that needed to be put away and slipping them on.

If he had to stand up for 2 seconds longer, his knees would surely buckle. The hot shower really emphasized how worn out his body was.

His eyes adjust to the little light from the street, coming through their makeshift curtains. As he grabs the untouched sheets on the bed and pulls them back so he can slide in, he notices a dark patch on the bedding next to his girlfriend.

The longer he tries to focus his eyes better, trying to decipher what he was looking at, he notices a dark patch on the back of her shorts too.

He turns the light back on in the bathroom, not wanting to startle her with the light from the side table near her. The extra light confirming what he had thought.

“Babe, you gotta wake up for a sec.” He gently shakes her shoulder.

She inhales deeply before stretching her body, her arms raising above her head as she only opens one of her eyes to look at him, confused as to what’s going on.

“Hey, I gotta get you out of bed. I think you’re bleeding.”

Both of her eyes fly open, sitting up quickly. “Shit. Oh my god. Shit.” She panics, grabbing the sheets that were in her lap to cover herself. Her head falls into her hands in embarrassment, wanting nothing more than to crawl into her own skin. “I’m sorry, Eds. God this is so embarrassing. I’m sorry!”

Her period had come at least 3 days early, usually she was a step ahead and had something on the night before so this never happened.

He could see the immediate panic in her face as she realized she had bled onto their bed sheets.

“Hey, no. It’s okay. Go clean yourself up and I’ll take care of the sheets, okay? You’re okay, sweetheart.” Eddie says softly, reaching out to rub her back softly. “You need me to get you some new underwear and shorts?”

“Please?” She clenches her thighs together as she goes to the bathroom, stripping her clothes off and opting to jump into the shower to clean herself up.

Part of her wanted to cry from embarrassment. Eddie had never seen her leak out onto her clothes, and now her boyfriend was washing the blood off their sheets.

Of course now she felt the sharp cramps in her uterus and the sensitivity from her nipples as the water hits them.

She groans to herself at the pain, resting her forehead on the tile next to her, knowing she had at least 3 or 4 days of cramps that hurt much worse than this.

“Baby, I brought you some clean clothes. I left them on the counter.” Eddie’s voice calls from the other side of the shower curtain. “You okay?”

“Yeah I’ll be okay, babe. I’ll be out in a second.”

She waits for the door to shut before she turns the water off, grabbing the towel off the hook and wrapping it around herself.

She couldn’t help but smile seeing a new outfit for her laying out on the counter and a pad sitting on top of the pile. He really was the best boyfriend she could ever ask for.

Once she’s dressed and settled, she nervously steps out to the bedroom only to find Eddie struggling to put the fitted sheet on the mattress.

“You need some help there?” She snorts a laugh.

Eddie’s tongue sticks out the corner of his mouth in concentration as he tucks the corner in, smiling in success that none of the other corners snapped back up like they had before. He laughs to himself in victory, hopping back onto his feet. “Got it finally. Lemme just throw the sheet on and you can lay back down. I couldn’t find the heating pad but I got you some water.”

Her whole heart swelled at his thoughtfulness and she felt a small lump in her throat build. There was no way to control the tears that pricked her eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Eddie asks, walking over to her and touching her arms in comfort.

“It’s nothing. You’re just really sweet to me.” She wraps her arms around him, nuzzling her face in his chest as she hugs him tightly.

Eddie kisses the top of her head, running his hands up and down her back slowly. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

She waits as he fixes the top sheet on the bed, helping him throw the pillows back on and placing the comforter back on the lower half of the bed.

Both of them snuggle into bed, finally together after a long day away from each other.

Eddie pats his chest, motioning her to come lay on his chest. She snuggles happily on his chest, letting her arm drape over his stomach in hopes she can fall back to sleep like before.

Of course as soon as she settles, she feels a tight cramp start, making her whine uncomfortably and scrunch her body up in a ball. “Sorry, it just hurts.”

Eddie shuffles down the bed, laying her on her back again while he rests his head on her tummy, letting his chest be her heating pad. He makes a mental note to drive to the drug store to go find her a heating pad tomorrow. His hands rests on her hips, his fingers gently dancing across the skin to help relax her.

She relaxes against his body, knowing his warmth would help the pain and his weight on her help her drift to sleep. Her own hands find their way to his hair, massaging his scalp.

Eddie moans happily, letting his eyes flutter closed.

This was all he thought about while at work, coming home to his beautiful girlfriend and laying down with her, holding her against his body while he slept.

The faster he fell asleep meant the sooner he would wake up and have all weekend to spend next to her.

“Thank you for taking care of me, baby. I know you were tired after working all day.” She whispers to him.

With the little bit of energy he had left, he turns his head and kisses her tummy, quickly nuzzling his head back against her body. “You know I got you, angel.”

[katebishopsbow]

ENIGMA • OSCAR PIASTRI

pairing: oscar piastri x reader (18+)

summary: your best friend's brother seems to always be keeping a friendly distance from you. intrigued by how reserved and quiet he is, you devise an evil little plan to make him lose control and uncover the facade behind his polite smiles and curt greetings.

warnings: sexual content (minors dni), sub!oscar, praising, corruption kink, finger sucking, spit, handjob

word count: 3k

(image is not mine)

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

Oscar Piastri is an enigma, a riddle you yearn to solve.

You see him occasionally whenever you visit your best friend’s house, purposefully lingering later in the night to catch a glimpse of her brother coming home from practice. He would give you a small smile, and make some light conversations with you and his sister before excusing himself upstairs in hurried steps.

He is always so quiet, so shy and closed off, always keeping a friendly distance from you as if getting too close would burn. It intrigues you more than anything, and maybe a wicked part of you wants to unveil the secrets hiding behind that facade of polite smiles and friendly greetings. You want to see him lose control – to be the one to make him lose control.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Oscar comes home from an exhausting day of practice – muscle sore, completely starving, and in desperate need of a quiet, relaxing night. When he enters the kitchen to get some water, he’s surprised to see you there alone wearing a rather flimsy top that reveals more skin than usual, with his sister nowhere in sight. “Oh – hey,” he greets politely like he always does, shooting you a half smile as he trains his eyes on your face instead of your revealing neckline. 

What a gentleman, right? 

“Hey, Oscar,” you return the smile, your mind already coming up with a devious plan to break his resolve. “Is Olivia here?” he asks as he glances around the house, searching for signs of his sister since the two of you are almost always inseparable. “Something came up. She told me to wait for her here, said she’ll be back in an hour,” you say to him, to which he answers with a quick nod of his head, “Oh, okay, cool.” Classic Oscar, always so reserved and never uttering more than a few words to you. Yet this only manages to fuel your desire to discover what’s hiding underneath and watch him lose his composure.

With a friendly smile, you gesture at the tray of chocolate cupcakes on the counter in front of you and say, “I brought over some cupcakes. Try them!” Oscar’s eyes almost light up at the sight of the sugary treat. The only things he has eaten during the day are a protein shake and a turkey sandwich he packed this morning that did nothing to keep him full, so the boy immediately picks one up and gives it a huge bite, eyes widening at how delicious they are. “These are good!” 

How cliche, you think as you stare at the chocolate frosting at the corner of his mouth. 

“You have a little something on your…” you let out a giggle as you point at his lips, and with an embarrassed grimace, Oscar hurriedly wipes at his mouth with his hands. He’s about to bring his thumb up to his lips when you suddenly stop him, grabbing onto his wrist mid-air as he tilts his head in confusion. “Uhh – what are you…?” he questions with a puzzled look and furrowed eyebrows, and his words fall to silence when he watches you slowly bring his hand toward your face.

Oscar feels like he’s suffocating, like his head is being submerged in deep waters as your lips slowly fall open, tongue darting out to give his finger a kitten lick, just to test his reaction. He supposes he should be tugging his hand back, pushing you off of him frantically, but he feels like he physically can’t, or maybe he simply doesn’t want to. 

So when he doesn’t pull away in disgust and freaks out like a part of you expects him to, you take it as a sign to continue your devious little plan. Oscar can feel his stomach drop, his breath catching in his throat like all the oxygen has left his body, especially when you smirk and envelop his entire finger into your mouth. 

“What are you doing…” he asks in a breathy groan as he tries his damned hardest to recompose himself, holding back the desperate urge to moan at the way you hollow out your cheeks and suck until the tip of his finger just grazes the back of your throat. Fuck, why the fuck does this feel so good already? Something about the haze in your eye makes a chill run down his spine – dangerous and a little twisted, and it’s enough to make Oscar want to surrender himself to you in whatever ways possible, in whatever ways you’d take him.

Every rational thought inside his head is telling him to stop, screaming at him to put an end to whatever madness this is. This is insane, absolutely ridiculous, and you two really shouldn’t be doing this. His sister can be home at any minute, not to mention that he definitely shouldn’t be doing such sinful acts with his sister’s best friend. Unfortunately, his body is betraying him and the tightness in his pants is a clear enough indicator that his facade is starting to crumble. He’s losing control and he knows it, and maybe it’s about time that he realizes how utterly screwed he is. 

When you finally pull off of him, a string of spit connects his finger to your glossy lips, and Oscar almost moans at the lewd sight. “Fuck…” The sigh that falls from his lips makes you smile, because while he will never admit this, you can tell that he’s secretly enjoying whatever you are doing to him. 

Feeling courageous, you move closer toward the boy until your bodies press directly against each other, feeling the radiating heat from his skin through the layers of clothes he has yet to change out of. You lean in to plant a kiss on his neck, and another, and another, suckling on the delicate skin until a purplish-blue bruise begins to form when you feel Oscar wordlessly tilting his head to allow you more access. In the corner of your eye, you can see him biting down on his lips as if he’s trying his hardest to stifle his sounds, and you can’t have that, no. 

You need to hear him, to listen to the way you’re affecting him while drinking in every little whine and plea of his until he comes. So you allow your hand to slide, trailing along the soft lines of his chest and abs until it reaches the hemline of his jeans. Oscar squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation, waiting for you to touch him where he needs you the most, yet that feeling never comes. “What?” he asks breathily when his eyes flutter open once again and is greeted by a grin on your face he would only describe as evil, calculative, as if you have everything planned out in your mind already – which isn’t exactly far off from the truth.

“You want me to touch you, Osc?” you say to him, voice sweet and mellow, knowing damn well what his answer is going to be. The bulge over his pants is rather prominent, and it must not have felt very nice under the confinement of his jeans, but you just want to hear him say it. You need to hear him admit it, that he wants this, that he wants you just as much as you want him – and also just to tease him a little.

Oscar nods his head, wishfully hoping that this is somehow enough since his ego won’t allow him to say anything more. To no avail, you shake your head at his silent response. “Yes or no, baby?” The nickname has him inhaling a shuddering breath, his head becoming foggy with lust and the burning need to be properly touched by you. It hurts – he’s so hard and his jeans are so tight, and all he wants is your fingers and lips around him. 

All he needs to do is say the word, just say that he wants it and you will give him everything he needs and more, but he can’t bring himself to say it out loud, he just can’t do it. Maybe it is his headstrong personality, but Oscar doesn’t beg for anything. He never has to beg for anything that he wants, he simply works for it and gets it. Good grades, his parents’ approval, sponsorships, karting and race wins. He doesn’t beg – never has and never will – but god does he want to get on his knees and beg for you right now.

He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know that he’s having an inner battle within himself, so you decide to be nice and give him a little… push. “Please, baby, please let me touch your cock. Let me make you feel good, Osc,” you pout your lips and look at him with the most desperate, pleading eyes ever, and he swears he is genuinely going to pass out.

Oscar likes to think he is in control most of the time, laid back and calm even in the most unpredictable times. Nothing can ever faze him, and he takes pride in that. But as he stands here before you, pushed back into the kitchen counter as you beg to jerk him off with the prettiest pair of eyes, every ounce of inhibition and self-control has suddenly evaporated from his body. 

So he lets himself go, and he lets you take – whatever you want. “Please, I want it,” he gasps out a strained whine as he returns the same pleading expression, shoving whatever “I never beg” principle he used to have to the very back of his mind and lets himself have this, lets himself have you. “Good boy.” Your words coax a breathy moan out of him, loud and unashamed and almost pornographic. You haven’t even properly touched him, and yet he already feels like he’s been completely taken apart by you, with every single part of his body humming in anticipation.

“Unbuckle your pants for me, baby.” Oscar doesn’t need to hear it twice, rushed hands fumbling with his belt to pull down his zipper, his eagerness endearingly funny. He looks at you with awaiting eyes after he’s done, trying his best to be patient as he waits for your next instructions. Placing a chaste kiss on his cheek, you slowly slip your hand into his pants, delicate fingers wrapping around the length of Oscar’s erection. Fucking finally, he thinks to himself.

His face contorts in pleasure when you begin tightening your hand, giving him a few unhurried, lazy strokes up and down his cock. “Argh… holy fucking shit…” Oscar isn’t normally much of a swearer, but he can’t seem to control himself nor the words spilling from his lips when your fingers feel so good around him. 

He lets out a displeased whine when you abruptly remove your hand from his jeans, staring at you with dazed eyes as you bring it in front of his mouth. “Spit,” you order, and Oscar being the good boy that he is, immediately obliges, gathering the saliva in his mouth and letting it dribble down to your palm. “That’s my good boy.” Using Oscar’s spit as lube, your hand returns to its original placement and begins moving, this time with much firmer strokes.

Oscar’s eyes snap close at the electrifying sensation, and he feels like his brain is melting inside his head from the overbearing pleasure that envelops him. Every muscle, every bone, every fiber of his entire being tingles with nerves, and your hand feels so warm and slippery and tight and so, so fucking good. He wonders if he’s dreaming, if he’ll suddenly come to his senses and wake up from whatever fever dream this is with a sticky mess under his covers.

The thing is, you have always been gorgeous. Oscar has eyes, and he cannot lie and say that he has never ogled at you when came over to their house and had your back turned, or that he never allowed his mind to wander in the late hours at night as he thinks about you indecent ways – ways a boy should never think about his sister’s best friend. He knows how wrong this entire thing is, with your fingers around him as he moans at how good you’re making him feel, but he doesn’t ever want to stop. So he prays, ever so solemnly to whatever higher power out there that this is real, that you are real, and please please please he just needs you to stroke him faster.

“Please, faster, I need – I need more!” 

Now how could you ever say no to him when he looks so good writhing in your arms like this? So you pick up the speed, pumping his cock in faster strokes and occasionally thumbing against the slit when you reach the head. “Does it feel good, Osc?” Oscar frantically nods his head at your question, gasping out strings of barely coherent curses under his breath, “Yes, yes, fuck! It feels so good, so fucking good…” 

“Good boy… I bet it does,” you lean down to brush a kiss on his jaw, relishing in the whiny moans that never stop spilling from his raw, bitten lips. “You’re my good boy, aren’t you?” Oscar nods again, eyes rolling to the back of his head whenever you draw teasing circles over his frenulum. but you want to hear him say it, to admit that he’s yours. “Say it,” you repeat yourself, purposefully slowing down the movements of your hand as you await his answer.

“I’m your good – boy!” he breathes out in a groan, wanting more than anything to be good for you. “That’s right, baby, you’re my pretty boy,” you whisper into his ear, and it’s nothing but the truth. With his hips bucking up into your hand in a desperate chase of pleasure as wonton moans never stop falling from his parted lips, Oscar has never looked prettier. Not the kind of pretty that makes you want to take him out to dinner and kiss him under the moonlight, but the kind of pretty that makes you want to take him apart and put him back together, to ruin him and make his eyes roll to the back of his head until he remembers nothing but your name.

You can tell Oscar is getting close with the way his breathing picks up and how he frantically grabs onto your hips just for something to hold onto. He’s jerked himself off before, plenty of times, but he has never felt anything like this – how you’re able to turn him into a malleable, whimpering mess with just a few deft strokes. It’s unfair how stupid-good your hands are, Oscar thinks to himself. Somehow he can’t find it in himself to be upset about it though, not when he’s too occupied with falling apart in your arms. 

“You’re gonna be a good boy and come all over my fingers, Osc?” Oscar barely manages to nod, making an almost begging noise in the process, and perhaps he would be embarrassed if it isn’t for how fucking turned on and insatiable he feels. “Yeah? You’re gonna come for me and watch me swallow every drop, baby?” Fuck, he is definitely not going to last when you’re muttering straight-up filth into his ears. 

When his eyes flutter close, he lets his imagination run wild the way he always does when he lies in his bed, hand stuffed into his pants while fantasizing about his sister’s best friend. He imagines you getting on your knees, opening your mouth with your tongue sticking out and waiting patiently as he spills all over you. He imagines your face covered in his come – so filthy and sinful – and you scoop them up with your fingers before sliding them inside your mouth. He imagines coming inside of you, warm and tight and so perfect for him. “I wish you were inside me instead, Osc,” you breathe into his ear, and that’s when he feels himself tipping over the edge.

Broken gasps and breathy whimpers are all Oscar can manage as his body overrides with pleasure – pure and utter euphoria that sends strikes of lighting down his spine. The pace of his hips stutters, and he thrusts up into your fingers once, twice, until his come splatters all over your hand, making a complete mess. Lines of white trickle down between your fingers, and he’s still desperately trying to catch his breath when you lift your hand and bring it to your lips. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he groans at the filthy sight of you sucking your fingers clean, lapping up his come and swallowing down everything with a teasing smirk.

You gently thumb at the streak of white that has spilled from the corner of your mouth, swipe it away and bring it to Oscar’s lips. Eager to please and obedient as ever, he parts his lips and lets you push your finger into his mouth, licking the taste of himself away. “You’re so good for me, baby,” you praise him softly, rubbing teasing circles over his glossy lips upon removing your finger. Oscar pouts, silently looking at you with eyes that say “Please kiss me” and you just have to reward him after everything, right?

Slowly, you lean in and press a kiss on his awaiting lips, feeling the way Oscar’s mouth falls open so willingly and melts into you without second thoughts. He isn’t a particularly great kisser, but it’s precisely his unskilled and inexperienced movements that make him so, so addictive. The thought of being the one to ruin him, to teach him all the ways you can make him feel good, to be the one to uncover his facade and make him lose control is exactly why you will never get enough of him. Now that you’ve seen him lose control, you don’t think you can ever stop. You can never stay away from him, and neither can he.

“Until next time, pretty boy.

[stylesloveclub]

sunshine (part 3)

In which y/n just wants to get this whole virginity thing out of the way, and Harry needs to grovel a bit before she forgives him.

warnings: nonconsensual advances/kissing when drunk!!!

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  

Y/n is drunk. 

She doesn’t know who’s apartment she’s in, or what the drink in her cup is. She also doesn’t know where Maddie is, or how she’s going to get home tonight. All she knows is that she’s sad and drunk, standing alone in some random kitchen while a party goes on on the other side of the door.

It had been Maddie’s idea to take y/n out partying tonight. She saw y/n’s tear stained cheeks as soon as she walked through the door, and had immediately coaxed her sad roommate into her arms. “What’s wrong?” she’d asked y/n, pulling back and staring into y/n’s teary eyes. “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?”

Y/n didn’t want to talk about it. She was too embarrassed to admit what happened, cringing everytime she remembered the way her heart broke when Harry laughed at her. She just wanted to forget about it. 

Maddie’s solution was going out and drinking. Y/n hesitantly agreed, as her other option would have been to lay in bed and cry, and that just seemed really sad and pathetic.

Now that she’s here though, her bed sounds a lot better than this party.

She’d taken three shots with Maddie and had been feeling fine for the first 15 minutes she was there – but then Maddie had been whipped away by a group of her friends, and y/n was left alone. The shots started to get to her, making her wobbly on her feet, and her head started to hurt from the flashing lights and pounding music. 

This really wasn’t her scene, and it didn’t help that she was all alone. 

She stumbled over to the makeshift bar looking for a drink, preferably water. But apparently there was no water anywhere in this college apartment, so she’d been given some spiked lemonade instead by some shirtless frat guy who had appointed himself as this party’s bartender. 

This was a terrible idea.

She just needed somewhere quiet to be sad! She hates having to walk past all the groups of people crammed into this living room. It’s hot and stuffy here and she feels dizzy and her eyes are dry from how much she cried before she got here. Someone steps on her foot, which makes her stumble sideways, and then she bumps into some tall girl who glares at her meanly and it makes y/n feel horrible and miserable and stressed out. 

She spends 10 minutes looking for Maddie, and though she fails to find her roommate, she does find an empty, quiet kitchen. She huffs out a sigh of relief. 

Finally, some peace and quiet. 

With her watered down, kinda gross, alcoholic lemonade in hand, she hops onto the kitchen countertop and swings her legs sadly. As hard as she may try, she is not a party girl at heart. She always ends up wanting to leave, and she always ends up feeling kinda lonely. 

And (honestly) she does not enjoy being drunk that much. It makes her wobbly and extra emotional. And it also makes her tummy turn a little bit. And her head is starting to pound on top of the way it’s spinning. 

She closes her eyes and leans her head back against the cabinets. She would give anything to just be back in her room with her books.

Someone bursts into the kitchen, and it makes y/n open her eyes with a startled jump. She stares at the person awkwardly as they totally walk past her, completely unaware that y/n was even in the kitchen at all. 

The kitchen newcomer is someone that she vaguely recognizes as one of Maddie’s friends – Jared, maybe? – she briefly wonders if he might know where her roommate is. 

Jared walks to the pantry and rummages through, retrieving a bag of BBQ chips which he pops open and starts devouring. The way he crunches and munches on the chips makes y/n cringe, but she says nothing and just sips her drink quietly. She hopes she can just go unnoticed…

Jared opens the fridge and the refrigerator light fills the dark kitchen, illuminating y/n’s silhouette. Jared finally notices her. 

“Yo…” he says, eyeing her up and down. “Y/n, right?”

She nods awkwardly, sipping her drink again. She’s gonna drink herself to oblivion simply because of all these nervous sips. 

“What’s up!” he says enthusiastically, putting the bag of chips down and wiping his crumby hands on his pants. 

“Um, nothing much,” she squeaks out. “Do you– do you know where Maddie is?” 

“Oh yeah, I was just with her outside! We got the munchies so m’getting us some snacks.” Y/n nods. At least she knows where Maddie is now. “What’re you doing in here all alone?” Jared asks. 

“I’m— um. Just wanted some quiet time, I guess.” She chews on the inside of her mouth nervously. 

“I was surprised when Maddie said you were here today…” Jared takes a step forward, standing right in front of her knees, “we don’t get to see you enough. You’re always hiding when we come over.”

She chuckles nervously. Another sip from her drink, no matter how gross it tastes.

Jared reaches a hand out to rest on y/n’s thigh. Her eyes bulge out of her head, her drunk head a little too woozy to comprehend what’s going on. His hand feels sweaty and invasive, unlike Harry’s… who felt warm and soft. 

Ugh. Harry. Stupid Harry. She pushes him out of her mind.

“You should hang out with us more…” Jared continues, using his hand to spread her legs so that he can step between them. Y/n, loose limbed and sluggish from the drinks, just lets it happen. It’s weird and kind of uncomfortable… but she has yet to formulate a true reaction. “I think we’d vibe…”

I think we’d vibe? Is that boy code for something? She blinks at Jared with tired eyes. She really just wants to be in her bed right now. 

“Can I kiss you?” Jared asks. Huh??? The confusion on y/n’s face must be apparent, because he chuckles and bites his lip. He has this weird look in his eyes that y/n thinks is supposed to be sultry but just makes him look kind of dumb. “Come on… it’d be fun.”

“Umm…” y/n is so confused. She hadn’t realized that this is where her conversation with Jared had been going, but now she feels like it’s obvious. His hands on her legs and then I think we’d vibe. This was Jared… making a move?

Normally, y/n would be repulsed at the thought of it. This would be nothing more than a drunk hookup with someone she doesn’t know or trust. She’d never do that! She’d push him away, and walk straight out of the kitchen without a second thought, because Jared is gross and y/n has standards. 

But that was old, romantic y/n. Present y/n is different.

“Ok,” she says simply. How bad could it be? It’s not like she’s saving her first kiss for someone special anymore. And maybe this time, she won’t bring up the fact that she’s a virgin! She’ll just go all the way, get it over with, and then nobody will be able to laugh at her–

Jared’s hot, wet lips make contact with y/n’s mouth. He tastes like barbeque chips and beer. His tongue immediately forces its way past her lips, licking into her mouth, and his hands unceremoniously migrate from her legs to her ass. He’s not gentle as he starts groping her ass, and y/n’s eyebrows furrow together uncomfortably. 

She tries to reciprocate the kiss – it had been so easy when it was with Harry! – but Jared kisses like a fish, his mouth agape while he sucks on her lips uncomfortably. His lips feel hard and tense, unlike Harry’s gentle kiss and soft, pink, candy lips. He groans as if he’s turned on and grinds his dick against y/n’s center.

Y/n can’t take it anymore. She pulls her lips off of Jared, too grossed out to even pretend to be into this kiss. Her mouth feels like it was invaded, and she’s realizing that her drunk brain has made a terrible lapse in judgment.

There was no way she’d be able to hook up with this guy, let alone kiss him for any longer! She was insane for even considering losing her virginity to some random guy. That’s just not her. She’s not random or spontaneous… she’s nervous and insecure and needs to feel loved and cherished when her first time comes around. Not … used and gross, the way she’s feeling now. And definitely not when she’s too out of it to even walk straight. 

She massively is starting to regret kissing Jared, and uses her hands to push him off.

“Um… I don’t–” Jared starts kissing down her neck, and y/n shrugs away. His kisses feel like a slobbery pitbull drooling all over her throat. “Let’s stop,” she says.

Jared either doesn’t hear her or just ignores her, now dry humping y/n. It feels gross and prepubescent, little ruts of this guy's dick against her most intimate region. When Harry had done it, it had been welcome. It had been Harry! The cute guy who would come sit in her room when there’s a party going on and would help her with math! But this is so… gross. She barely even knows this guy, and he’s making her feel yucky and wrong and uncomfortable.

She hates this – all of it – and tries to close her legs, but Jared’s hips are still between her thighs so she can’t. Her stomach is rolling, the aftertaste of Jared’s barbeque flavored tongue sitting in her mouth, and she’s feeling overwhelmed. “Stop,” she mumbles again, her hands pushing harder on his shoulders. 

“Hm, why?” Jared whispers, coming back up to kiss the corner of her mouth. She can smell the alcohol on his gross, hot breath, and she turns her head to the side, dodging him. 

“I don’t– I’m not–” she stammers over her words. Her cheeks are turning hot and she’s squeezing her eyes shut to try and regain composure. Jared is licking her earlobe now, and it feels horrible. She pushes harder. 

Neither of them hear Harry entering the kitchen.

He’d been lingering around the apartment quietly, the way he usually does at parties. His friends had noticed that he’s in a particularly bad mood tonight for some reason – but Harry doesn’t say anything about it. He just sulked quietly among the groups of people. 

Maddie had stomped her way over to him at some point that night, and grilled him for why y/n had come over so upset that day. “Harry!” she huffed, “What’d you do? Did you make y/n cry?”

His frown deepened, “She was crying?” 

“Yes!” Maddie blows her hair out of her face. “She was all sad and mopey. I brought her here for a good time but she was still pouty after, like, three shots. I thought you were helping her with math, what happened?” 

“She’s here?” Harry turns alert. He sits up, his brows furrowed in his grumpy way, a hint of concern in his eyes. “Where?”

Maddie shrugs. “I dunno. I lost her like an hour ago.”

He was up and searching for her immediately. He checked the bathrooms and all the empty rooms, walked around the apartment with attentive eyes, checked within the huddles of people to see if y/n was hanging around them. 

His last hope was the kitchen – but even then, it didn’t seem like she was in there. Just a couple making out, something that he didn’t want to impose on. He was just about to leave, when he heard the smallest, familiar voice, squeaking out stop. He looks a little closer. 

His heart stops when he realizes it’s y/n. 

“What are you doing?” Harry quickly steps forward, tugging Jared off of y/n.

Y/n snaps her legs shut now that Jared has been removed from between her thighs, while Jared turns around to face Harry with his hands in the air. “What the fuck, man?” Jared spits out.

“She said stop,” Harry fumes, taking a protective step in front of y/n. 

“Bro, fuck off, it’s none of your business–” he tries to reach a hand towards y/n, but Harry blocks him. “Do you know this guy?” Jared asks y/n.

She gives a disgruntled nod. She’s half thankful to see him because he interrupted that awful kiss with Jared, but the other half is sad and embarrassed and filled with the insecurity she felt when she’d left Harry’s apartment. When he’d kissed her and then laughed at her. 

“Get out,” Harry grunts to Jared, nodding his head to the door. His eyes are dark and mean, and even in the low light of the kitchen, Jared can tell that Harry is not the guy to mess with. 

“Whatever,” Jared scoffs, leaving the kitchen.

Harry turns around. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

Y/n ignores him, hopping off the kitchen counter. Her left foot, however, has fallen asleep and twists underneath her weight painfully when she lands on the ground. Harry reflexively wraps his hand around her waist so that she doesn’t fall, and pulls her into his chest. 

“Hey, hey–” she tries to regain her footing, but this time the drinks in her system make her wobble side to side. Harry’s grip on her tightens, “Stop.” 

“Let go,” she whines, wriggling in his hold, “I don’t want to talk to you.” 

He lets go when she asks, not wanting her to feel scared or uncomfortable since she looks so out of it, but stands in front of her firmly, eyebrows furrowed. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” she sniffles.

“Who’s taking you?” he asks again, taking a step to the side to block her when she tries to walk around him.

She’s silent for a second, trying to figure out her options. “I’ll walk,” she decides.

He lets out an exasperated breath. “Y’can’t walk home right now.” She’s way too out of it, and it’s probably over a 30 minute walk. “Let me drive you.” 

“No,” she pouts, trying to brush past him again. “I’m not talking to you.” 

“M’sorry,” he sighs, “M’sorry for making you upset, I-I didn’t mean to.” He’d been confused when she’d left him so abruptly (he’d still been catching his breath and calming his heart from that kiss when she ran off), and dismayed when he found out he’d made her cry. His eyes are earnest and pleading, “please let me drive you home.”

She wipes her eyes, a few sad tears hanging on her lashes that she refuses to let fall. “Fine.”

But only because it’s cold outside and her head hurts and she’s too scared to walk home at night.

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  

“Are you cold?”

Y/n ignores Harry, staring out of the passenger’s side window while they’re stopped at a red light. 

“Y/n?”

Still no response. He sighs frustratedly. She’s obviously cold, with goosebumps on her skin and shivering in her seat. He reaches to the back seat and grabs one of his sweaters that he’d worn to class earlier, throwing it in her lap. “You can’t just ignore me all night.”

Y/n swallows thickly, eyeing the sweater in her lap, but refuses to put it on no matter how cold she is. “I’m fine.”

Harry looks over to her. She’s clearly not fine. 

Her voice sounds strained and teary, and he can practically feel the lump in her throat. She’s on the verge of tears, sitting in his car with glossy eyes, chewing the inside of her lip, a habit he’s noticed she only does when she’s sad or anxious. 

“Tell me what I did wrong, please. Talk to me.”

The first tear falls from her lashes. She’d done so good, holding in her emotions all night, not crying even though she was drunk and miserable! 

But Harry sounds so earnest and desperate. She wants to trust him, wants to revel in the comfort she only feels in his presence. But she can’t stop replaying the way he laughed at her in her head. 

“Please,” he begs. 

Her resolved crumbles. “You– you laughed at me,” She takes a shuddery breath, trying not to start sobbing. “When I told you I was a virgin. You thought it was funny.” 

Realization dawns on him, “oh, sunshine…”

“But it’s not funny. It’s normal!,” she continues, “ Like, I-I just want it to mean a lot.. I need it to be with someone I like, someone I trust. I can’t do casual, I’m-I’m not like that.” She wipes her tears away furiously, “and you laughed at me when I told you that!” 

“I wasn’t laughing at you!” he says desperately, but she huffs and rolls her eyes. The tears are falling freely at this point and he’s dying to wipe them away. He’s annoyed that the light turns green, forcing himself to look at the road and keep his hands on the wheel when all he wants is to hold y/n’s hands. “I-I get it, I’m sorry, that was dickish of me to laugh, but I wasn’t laughing at you!”

“Yes you were,” she grumbles petulantly, “You literally laughed in my face.” 

“No,” They pull up to a stop sign and he glances over at her, “I was just… surprised! Cos you know… I just didn’t expect it. You’re cute and nice and I just… I was surprised. I thought you were just, like, playing a joke on me.” 

“Well, I wasn’t,” she huffs in her seat, crossing her arms angrily and staring out the window again.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says again. He looks over at her sadly, his heart aching. He wants it all to be right again, he can’t handle having her cry. “I get it… wanting to wait for someone special. I wouldn’t laugh at that– I think trust is the most important part.”

She sniffles, but stays quiet. 

It’s a few minutes later when she sadly squeaks out, “you were my first kiss, too.” 

Harry’s heart breaks in his chest. He doesn’t know how he’s gonna fix this.

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  

He parks in front of her apartment building when they get there, and rushes out of his seat to open y/n’s door for her. 

He tries to help her get out, offering his hand like a gentleman, but she refuses him and hops out of the car all by herself. She struggles to stay upright, though, desperately holding herself up with the car door as she stumbles, still pretty drunk and discombobulated. 

At some point during the car ride she decided to suck it up and put on Harry’s sweatshirt. Not because it was comforting and smelt like him. Just because it was cold outside. 

He follows behind her as she stomps up the stairs to her apartment door, and stands patiently for the next three minutes as she fumbles with her keys, trying to fit them in the lock. When she (as he expected) fails to open the door, she angrily shoves the keys into his hands and stands off to the side with crossed arms. 

He doesn’t find himself offended by her grumpy behavior. He deserves it, he supposes. Plus, it’s not that hard to deal with her angry huffs and little stomps and furrowed eyebrows. 

She’s a much cuter grump than he is, that’s for sure.

He unlocks the door for her and holds it open, and she beelines for her bathroom. She needs to brush her teeth immediately or else she might throw up from that horrible kiss. And her mascara is getting all clumpy and making her eyes sting. 

Harry goes to her kitchen, grabbing a pack of Advil that’s just sitting on the counter after filling up a glass of water for y/n from the Brita in the fridge. He hears a loud bang and a whiny owwwww from y/n’s bathroom, and chuckles to himself. She’s like a little clumsy baby deer. 

He remembers the last time, how many times she’d stumbled over herself, how many times she’d almost tripped and landed on her face. How he’d accidentally walked in on her changing last time. How sweet and soft she looked, tucked into her bed with her little stuffed bunny. 

He shakes his head to himself. He undoubtedly has a soft spot for her. She’s wriggled her way into his heart and melted him into a heart shaped puddle. He… he doesn’t ever want to see her cry again. He just wants to hold her, keep her safe, tuck her inside of his pocket and make sure she’s happy forever and ever. 

She’s sunshine. She doesn’t deserve to be sad.

This time, he knocks before he lets himself into her room, giving her ten seconds to compose herself before peeking his head in. His eyebrows crinkle when his eyes land on y/n.

“Why’re you on the floor?” he asks, quickly putting the water and tiny red painkiller on her bedside table.

“I dropped my earring,” she pouts, not looking up at him. She’s on her knees, patting around herself and desperately searching for the butterfly shaped studs she’d been wearing that night. She sounds like she’s about to burst into tears, “I-I can’t find it.” 

Harry sees it glimmering behind her. He kneels down next to her and picks it up, holding it in front of her face. “This?” Her wide eyes glimmer as she nods, taking it from him and walking on her knees all the way over to her desk to put it in her little heart shaped jewelry dish. 

She’s already nicely dressed in her pj’s (a fuzzy pair of pink pants paired with a tank top so that she wouldn’t overheat tonight) and she’s finished her drunk girl night routine (no skin care – just a makeup wipe and messily brushing her teeth), exhausted and ready for bed. 

Harry holds out a hand to help her up from the floor. This time, she doesn’t resist. She’s tuckered out, too sleepy to maintain this grudge. All she wants is her bed.

Harry’s hand feels warm as her smaller hand wraps around his palm, and she lets herself be pulled up by him and guided to her bed. He lifts up her blankets for her and uses a steady hand on her hip to ensure that she doesn’t fall sideways while she climbs into her bed. He tucks her in, pulling her duvet up to her chest, and without her having to ask, he picks up the little stuffed bunny who lays sadly at the foot of her bed. 

She watches him with round eyes as he kneels down next to her bed, tucking the little bunny in right next to her. Her skin looks soft and dewy, her hair framing her face in delicate wisps. She stares at Harry with wide, unwavering eyes, still glossy and red-rimmed from all the tears she shed today. 

He hates himself for being the cause of them. It takes everything in him not to lean forward, brush the hair out of her face, and kiss her sad, pouted lips. 

 “All good?” he asks instead.

Her fingers wrap around her stuffed animal gently, and she gives a shy nod. 

He smiles, “Okay.” His eyes are soft and caring, a wonderful contrast to the last time he tucked her into bed, when he’d been so gruff and stoic. Y/n has always found herself easily distracted by his pretty green eyes. They used to be so dark and mysterious, back before he’d started tutoring her. Before he’d kissed her. But now, there’s a glimmer in them that makes her feel warm. 

There’s just a certain softness to him tonight… one that she hasn’t ever witnessed. Her heart glows in her chest when his hand reaches out to rest on her arm gently. She loves the way his palm feels on her skin, loves looking into his eyes and seeing him stare right back at her. He gives her arm a soft, reassuring squeeze, and starts to stand up. 

Y/n takes a sudden breath. “Harry?” she quietly calls out his name. 

“Hm?” He pauses immediately. His name sounds wonderful falling from her lips. He wants to hear it over and over again. 

“Can… can you stay?” Her fingers twist around the bunny’s ears nervously. “Just for a little bit.”

He’s frozen for a second. She bites the inside of her lip nervously. She knows that he cares – she can feel it – but still, she braces herself for the sting of rejection. 

“Yeah.” He sits himself down on her bed, and finally lets himself brush her hair out of her face. “I can stay,” he murmurs. 

She exhales softly, a puff of relief floating in the air in front of her. Her eyelashes flutter shut as his fingers softly graze her forehead, then down to trace the apple of her cheek. He smiles as she nuzzles her face closer to his hand, silently asking for more affection. Like a little kitten, he thinks as he cups her cheek with his palm, petting her softly and smoothing her hair back. 

She smiles contentedly to herself. She can’t even remember why she’d been so insistent on refusing Harry’s help tonight, why she’d ignored him in the car and fought his offers to drive her home. 

This moment… it’s perfect. She could stay here with Harry forever. She snuggles into her duvet and pulls her bunny closer to her chest.

Harry stays there, petting her hair and staring at her sweetly, until her breathing evens out and the smile slowly fades from her face. 

That night, y/n dreams of curly brown hair and green eyes. Visions of warm hands and gentle touches cloud her mind, with flashes of sweet words and the name sunshine falling from rosy pink lips. 

She also dreams of a soft kiss being pressed to her cheek, and the feeling of chocolate curls brushing against her face while a deep voice murmurs goodnight against her skin. 

That part wasn’t 100% just a dream, though. 

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  

A vanilla iced latte with oat milk is gently placed in y/n’s line of vision, just a few inches away from where she’s tapping her apple pen against the library desk. She looks up, confused. 

The latte bringer is Harry, his pretty curls covered by a beanie. 

 “I saw you studying.” His green eyes glimmer as he swipes his finger across his nose. “Thought you might want a treat. To keep you motivated.” 

“Oh…” she puts down her pencil, and sits up a bit straighter. “Thanks,” she smiles nervously.

He nods. The air is tense. They haven’t seen each other in a few days, the last time being when he brought her home and stayed in her room until she fell asleep. She’d woken up alone, with only the remnants of his boyish scent lingering on her sheets… but her heart had felt full. 

She remembers him apologizing, and she remembers his earnest eyes and how he’d begged her to tell him what he did wrong so he could make it right. And she, of course, remembers how he’d tucked her into bed, and how his hand had cupped her cheek.

But, even despite his kind eyes and peace-treaty latte, she still feels nervous around him – especially now that she’s stone cold sober. Drunk y/n had been perfectly fine leaving everything in the past and snuggling into Harry’s touch, but sober y/n is obviously an overthinker. 

How was she supposed to act, when Harry had given her the best first kiss ever and also made her cry for hours straight right after? What was she supposed to say, when he’d rescued her from her failed attempt of a casual hook up and then driven her home and tucked her into bed with her stuffed bunny?

“Do you want to sit?” she asks. 

He nods, immediately taking a seat next to her. She takes a sip of her latte, and it’s perfect. It’s exactly what she would’ve ordered for herself. 

“Your midterm is tomorrow, isn’t it?” Harry fidgets in his seat, nervously using his thumb to pinch at the skin of his pointer finger.

She nods. “M’nervous.” The past five hours have been spent at the library, doing more practice problems. 

“You studied really hard. I think you’ll do well.” She must’ve finished all the problems in the textbook by now, Harry thinks. Y/n shrugs in her seat, looking down at her latte discouragedly. “I mean it,” Harry emphasizes, ducking his head down to catch her eye.

“I’m just worried I’ll make some stupid mistakes. Or that I’ll blank and forget the trig rules.”

“Don’t psych yourself out,” he says. His hand moves forward, as if he wants to reach for her hand, but he holds himself back and just rests it on the table. “You’ll overthink it and start freaking out. Just pretend like you’re doing more practice problems instead of a test. You were doing fine when we were studying together last week.” 

They both pause, remembering that study session. The one that ended in a kiss and tears. 

Harry clears his throat uncomfortably. Y/n takes a sip from her latte. 

Neither of them acknowledge the awkward incident. 

“Just imagine you’re in my room doing problems again. Don’t stress out too much. You’ve got this.”

She nods, sighing heavily. Harry watches her fingers as she fiddles with a ring that she’s wearing on her middle finger. 

“Thanks for driving me home, by the way,” she peeps. “The other night.” 

He nods, “of course.” She’s opened the floodgates, finally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The magnificent kiss, y/n running away, Harry finding her at the party, driving her home, then staying with her until she fell asleep. “Do you… do you remember anything that happened that night? After the party?” 

She doesn’t know if he’s referring to his apology in the car, or how he’d stayed in her bed and brushed his fingers through her hair as she fell asleep. Either way, she remembers. Her voice comes out barely over a whisper, “yeah.” 

He nods, eyes flickering down to his own hands. “I meant it,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. “Everything I said. I shouldn’t have laughed, I- I didn’t mean to…” He shakes his head to himself. “It was stupid, and m’sorry. I hate that I hurt you… that I like– ruined the moment–” 

“It’s fine–” she stammers, trying to brush it off. She doesn’t want it to be a big deal, she’s already embarrassed and bringing it up again just makes her want to… crawl in a hole. 

He sits up straighter, “it’s not fine. I was a dick.” He looks into her eyes, “I’m gonna make it up to you.”

She blinks at him.

“Please let me make it up to you.” His hand, resting on the table, inches closer to her. 

Harry cares… she can feel it. She can see it in his eyes, in his small mannerisms. She’s not making it up – it’s real. It feels warm and wonderful, like she’s a flower and sitting in the warm embrace of the sun.

Y/n can’t help but softly smile to herself. “Okay,” she whispers.

She slides her hands forward, and their fingers brush in the middle of the table. 

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  

part 3 hope u loved it :( epilogue is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (aug 12) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u think and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!!

sunshine (epilogue) - In which Harry's still grumpy, except for when he's with his sunshine girl.

sunshine masterlist

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART FOUR

previous chapters | kofi | ok babes, lemme preface this chapter by saying i'm not exactly sure how i feel about it. i wanted it to be longer and i wanted more things to happen but this week has simply been a clusterfuck for me and i wanted to at least get something out to you guys cause you deserve it. i hope yall like sexting and phone sex cause that's all this part really consists of, so if that's not your thing i'm sorry and i hope the next part will be more enjoyable for you. thanks for bearing with me 💕 chapter summary: joel is busy with work but that doesn't mean there aren't other things you can do without being in the same room. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, corruption, praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader’s family are very catholic), sexting, phone sex, mutual masturbation word count: 4.2k ao3

Now that you have Joel's phone number, it's ridiculously difficult not to text him constantly, especially considering he hasn't reached out since his first initial response. You'd replied to his first message with a heart emoji, something you'd almost immediately regretted but have had to come to peace with. You manage to keep yourself busy for most of the day, reminding yourself that he's at work and probably doesn't have time to be texting some shy and inexperienced college girl. It's not like you're in a relationship or anything; you've known the man for three days.

"Three days," you whisper to yourself, settled in your favorite spot in the backyard, near the pool. Three days and he already has his claim on you, the ghost of his touch still peppered all over your skin. You'd put on a bathing suit in case you decided to go for a swim, but also because you wanted an excuse to look at your body again, look at where his hands had been.

It's been so rare for you to ever look at yourself the way you do now, the way Joel has taught you to. You were almost ashamed of having a body to begin with, embarrassed by your legs, your breasts, and especially what lay inside your underwear. You'd been raised to view them all as taboo, despite them all literally being a part of you. The swimsuit you wear now isn't necessarily the sexiest thing, just a black one-piece you'd bought at the beginning of the summer with modesty in mind, but you find yourself feeling different in it, more confident. Mr. Miller likes this body. I like this body.

Your phone buzzes near your head and you scramble to reach for it, pushing your sunglasses down your nose and peering down at the screen. Disappointment floods you when you see it's just from your mom, but your eyebrows raise in curiosity when you read the contents of the message:

Will be home after your father. Don't tell him about Mr. Miller.

Your mother? Asking you to keep a secret? It's probably one of the most uncharacteristic things she's ever done; you have to read the message a second time to make sure you're understanding correctly. Why doesn't she want your dad to know? He was the one who'd attempted to defend Joel in the first place, wasn't he?

Almost like she knows you're going to question her logic, another messages comes in a few seconds later:

I will tell him on my own.

Interesting.

You swipe back to your "conversation" with Joel and feel your heart flutter at his one-word reply. God, you really are insatiable. You wonder what he's doing right now; lifting heavy things? Ordering people around? You certainly know that he's good at telling people what to do...

Your skin warms at the thought and you quickly shake it away, tossing your phone back into the grass and taking a few steps toward the pool. You plunge into the cold water just to soothe the hot ache you already feel between your legs.

--

Dinner is normal, although the secret hanging in the air between you and your mother isn't lost on you by any means. You definitely didn't get your ability at keeping secrets from her; she's flustered, quiet as she chews her meatloaf and awkwardly questions your father about his day. He doesn't notice anything is amiss though, just scarfs down his food and mutters something about paperwork before disappearing into his office.

"Why don't you want me to tell Dad?" you whisper as you help her do the dishes, watching as she scrubs a plate unnecessarily hard.

"Because," she hisses, eyes darting to his closed office door in the hallway, "Your father will want to ask him over for dinner again and I am not having a repeat of what happened last time." She makes a face at the thought of Joel's previous insult, "If we're going to help this man find his faith we have to take things slow, just like you said. I'll tell your father when the time is right."

You're at a loss for words at the way your lie has somehow already wormed itself into your mother's brain without a shadow of a doubt. She's genuinely convinced you're trying to do the right thing, turn Joel Miller into a God fearing Catholic. It makes you uncomfortable to think about how your lie has already gotten this deep; for a moment you briefly consider calling the whole thing off, changing the story, maybe even telling the truth.

And then your phone buzzes in your pocket.

"Whatever you say," you reply quickly, drying the last plate and backing away, "Um, I'm gonna go read in my room for a bit."

--

How was your day?

The text makes your heart positively soar as you flop onto your bed again like you had this morning, bringing your phone to your face and grinning like an idiot. He didn't forget about you.

boring. i missed you.

You don't care if you come across as clingy; it's how you feel. Your heart does stutter a bit when you hit send but all nervousness fades when he responds just as quickly:

Missed you too, angel.

You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat, heart pounding when his little speech bubble appears again to show that he's typing something else:

What did you do?

went swimming

What an image to put in my head.

You smile, feeling your cheeks warm. Your face falls however at his next message:

What did you wear?

You grimace, eyeing the ridiculously modest swimsuit hanging off your desk chair, still damp from earlier. Should you be honest or come up with a white lie, put a different image in his head? No, you've already lied enough for one day.

a one piece but i don't like it. it's not very me.

I'll buy you a new one. Tell me what you like.

He'd really do that? You bite your lip and weigh the options in your mind, thinking about the lingerie on those mannequins this morning, the things your roommates back at college wear. You want something you'll feel different in, something that makes you feel more like this sexy version of yourself Joel is helping you discover.

bikini. maybe pink or blue?

You got it. Maybe you can give me another fashion show.

You feel a surge of excitement, of intrigue. You'd wondered at the mall what kind of clothes Joel would want to see you in... he'd loved the dresses this morning - especially the white one - so you can't help but wonder what kind of swimsuit he'll choose for you. You're not completely sheltered; you know there are different types of bikinis. One of your friends had worn a micro sling bikini for Halloween last year as a part of her costume for a party she was attending - you'd taken one look and decided you weren't going.

Would Joel pick a bikini like that for you? The thought makes you feel a bit queasy, suddenly unsure if you'd even want to wear something like that. You want to look good for him but you don't want to sacrifice everything about yourself to do it. You stare at his message, wishing he wasn't just words on a screen right now.

where are you?

At a bar with my crew. But I'd much rather be wherever you are right now, babygirl.

You relax a bit into your sheets at the pet name; the word hasn't even come directly from his mouth but it has you acting like it has. Your body goes loose, that familiar throbbing starting up again in your underwear. You cross your legs and duck underneath the covers to type your reply:

i'm in my bed. i wish you were here

And what do you wish I was doing?

You stare at the text for a moment, biting down hard on your lip and trying to think of exactly how to articulate your thoughts in the best way. You've never done this before, never said or typed dirty things to somebody else. You figure texting is as good a medium as any to finally practice.

i wish you were playing with my pussy

The throbbing gets worse as you type the words. You cross your legs a bit tighter when you hit send, already nervous about what he'll say back. He doesn't waste much time.

You like when I play with your pussy, don't you?

Your cheeks warm as you sink even further beneath your blankets, legs parting slowly. You reach down to pop the button on your jeans, slowly typing out a response with one hand:

yes

The zipper of your jeans is down within seconds, your right hand carefully slipping past the open material and sliding down to cup where you're aching over your underwear. Your phone vibrates again and you hear a small whimper slip past your lips.

And you liked having those big fingers deep in there huh?

yes. it felt so good.

So full, right baby?

You circle your clit slowly with your index finger, mouth popping open at his words. The memory of the way his fingers felt inside of you, the way they'd pushed and prodded you so deep...

really full.

I'll do it again real soon, angel. Promise.

You whimper again, still tracing your pussy through your panties. Your brow furrows when the next message comes in a few seconds later:

I gotta head back now but I'll call you later. Stay up for me, don't fall asleep.

You frown. Oh well, you've gotten off without him a few times so far, what's one more time? You watch as the bubble indicating he's typing again pops up.

And don't touch that pretty pussy until I tell you.

Your hand freezes and you feel your lips turn into a pout despite the fact that he can't even see you.

:(

XO

"Meanie." you murmur at your phone, taking your hand out of your pants and tilting your head back to stare at your ceiling. You look down at the message again and can't help but feel your lips upturn; he's going to call you later... maybe meanie is too strong a word.

--

You prepare a little too much for your late-night phone call with Joel.

You take a long bath, soothing and relaxing with some lit candles and quiet music, all the while returning to your previous mental state of pretending you don't have anything between your legs. You're just a barbie doll down there, you tell yourself dubiously, there's nothing to touch or feel. That wishful thinking doesn't last very long however when you find yourself re-reading Joel's texts and feeling your pussy begin to pulse again under the water.

After your bath you comb carefully through your hair, counting each stroke to pass the time. You apply more lotion to your skin than you could ever need and then change into a pair of pajamas, just some simple sleep shorts and a t-shirt. You wonder what Joel would think of your old nightdresses, the ones you used to wear when you were a kid, still folded away in your dresser but probably much shorter and more revealing now. You take a quick peek at an old yellow one, lacy and faded; it practically smells of innocence and the bright eyed Jesus loving girl you once were, and you find yourself feeling sad. You shut it away again.

By the time you're freshly bathed and in bed your parents have already said goodnight and are settled in their bedroom down the hall. All you can do is lay back against your pillows and wait for Joel to call.

Nine o'clock passes; you decide to read for a little bit.

Ten o'clock; no big deal, you turn on the TV and quietly watch the beginning of a movie.

Eleven o'clock; you're about halfway into the movie now, feeling sleepy but still checking your phone every few minutes.

Twelve o'clock; the movie ends but you don't pay much attention to the conclusion, staring anxiously at your phone and waiting for it to light up. But still nothing.

It's almost one when you finally begin to face the reality of the situation. He never gave you a specific time, just said he'd call later, but how much later did he mean? Maybe he's already home now, in bed and asleep. He's probably forgotten that he even said he'd call. You're not that important. You're just some kid.

Tears well in your eyes when you finally turn off your bedside lamp and shuffle further beneath the covers, still staring at your phone. Please call, you think pathetically to yourself, or even text. Just do something.

You fall asleep with your phone gripped tightly in your hand.

--

You wake up to a light buzzing sound and sensation, your eyes squeezing together in confusion. You open them blearily and find yourself facing your bedside clock; 2:23am. It takes a few seconds for you to register that the buzzing is coming from your phone, and when you look down at the screen and see the name Mr. Miller, your eyes go wide. You answer it immediately.

"Hello?" you whisper, burying yourself under the covers again and trying to be as quiet as possible.

"Hey, babygirl," he says softly on the other side, his southern drawl melting smoothly into your ear, "I wake you up?"

"Y-yeah," you mumble, still blinking your eyes and trying to get some alertness back, "Sorry, I know you told me not to fall asleep."

He chuckles and it's the most beautiful sound, charming and gentle, "That's okay, sweetheart. I got back much later than I thought I would, it's my fault," you hear him grunt a little bit, like he's settling onto his couch (or his bed?), "You stay up long waitin' for me?"

You bite your lip, "Um, maybe."

"Aw, baby, I'm sorry," he murmurs, "Poor thing, you must be so sleepy."

"M'not," you say, but your voice betrays you.

"Shh," he whispers, "You go back to sleep, we'll try this again tomorrow."

You try to sit up but you're still half asleep and the blankets are so warm and inviting, "No," you say quickly, "No, I wanna talk to you. I've been waiting."

You can hear the smile in his voice when he replies, "God, you're so fuckin' sweet," he inhales deeply, "What I wouldn't give to have you in my bed right now, angel... all curled up and comfy in my arms."

You smile, eyes closing again as you settle back into the blankets and listen to his voice, "I want that." you murmur.

"I know you do," his voice is so soft and soothing in your ear, almost like a lullaby, "You want so many things with me, don't you?"

"Mm hm," you agree softly, "All of it."

"All of it." he repeats thoughtfully.

The line goes quiet for a moment, both of you just listening to each other breathe evenly. You know you should say something else, try and wake yourself up, but the longer you lie there with the phone to your ear the more tired you seem to be getting.

"Did you touch your pussy, babygirl?" he finally asks, voice still barely a whisper.

Your heart stutters, "No," you reply just as quietly.

"Good girl."

You hum at his praise, melting further into your pillow. You listen as he breathes slowly on the other end. You're starting to drift off again, you can feel it.

"I've got an early start tomorrow," he says softly, "But how 'bout I call you around seven or so, before I leave?"

"Yes," you whisper, "Please."

He laughs quietly, "Okay, sweetheart, you go back to sleep now," he exhales and seems to settle into his bed, just like you, "Sweet dreams."

"'Night," you mumble softly, leaving him to end the call as you fade quickly back to sleep.

--

You don't make the same mistake you made last night; you wake up promptly at six thirty and make sure you stay awake, washing your face and getting dressed for the day. You hear the shower going in your parents room and hope that miraculously both of them will have already left by the time Joel calls you.

No such luck. You can hear them both bustling around in the kitchen when your phone starts to buzz, and you quietly tiptoe back to bed and yank the covers up over yourself, hoping it'll muffle your conversation.

"Hi," you whisper.

"Mornin'", Joel replies; you can hear a smile in his voice, "Why are you whisperin'?"

You grimace, "My parents are still here."

"Ahh, the same parents who think I'm your guitar teacher, right?"

You bring a hand up to your face in embarrassment, "Oh my god, I forgot I told you that."

He chuckles, "So we're sneakin' around, huh? That what's happenin'? Is this gonna end with me gettin' shot?"

Your eyes widen, "I hope not!"

He laughs again, louder this time, "I'm kiddin', babygirl, don't worry. But you're an adult, you don't need their permission to see me."

"I know that, but as long as I'm under their roof they have rules, and I gotta follow them. Plus..." you make a face, "My mom doesn't like you."

He snorts, "Yeah, I figured."

"I kind of told her that um... that I'm... well..."

"What?"

"That I'm teaching you about God," you close your eyes, feeling your skin burn, "That you borrowed my hymn book and you're gonna help me learn how to play some of them."

There's complete silence on the line after you speak and for a moment you're scared he's hung up. You pull the phone away from your ear and look down at the screen; the call is still active. You bring it back up and he finally says something.

"Jesus, you're naughty," he mutters, voice suddenly dark, rough, "Lyin' about all that, just to see me?"

You swallow, "Y-yeah."

"Naughty," he repeats, "Naughty girl."

Another beat of silence. Then-

"Are you in bed?"

"Yes."

"Take off your panties."

You don't need telling twice, you're already throbbing just from hearing his voice change. You hold your phone against your ear with your shoulder and make quick work of hiking up your dress and tugging your panties down your legs.

"They're off," you whisper, voice shaky.

"Rub your clit," he says immediately, and you hear the unmistakable sound of his belt jangling on the other end, "'Til your pussy's all wet."

Is he...? He must be. You swallow tightly and do as he says, trying to focus on the task at hand and not on the fact that he's most certainly touching his cock right now while he talks to you. Getting wet isn't much of a challenge; as soon as your finger touches your clit you can already feel yourself start to drip.

"I'm wet." you whimper, rubbing your clit slowly.

"Already?" his voice is almost pained.

"Is it...is it weird that I get wet so easily?"

"No," he says immediately and you can almost visualize him shaking his head, "No, it's good. It's just 'cause you're so new to all of it," he groans, low and husky, "Fuck, I can't get enough of you."

You whimper again at his words, rubbing yourself a bit quicker and biting down on your lip. You can still hear the dull sounds of your parents from the kitchen below; you have to be quiet.

"Put a finger inside," Joel murmurs on the other end of the line, rough and scratchy, "Deep as you can go."

You bite down on your lip harder as you carefully push your index finger inside yourself, brow furrowing at the sensation. It's certainly nothing like having Joel's fingers in there and you immediately want to add another one, get that full feeling back.

"Push it in and out," he continues, "With me now, in..." you hear a dull slap, "And out," you follow along, eyes becoming hooded as you listen to what is most certainly Joel jacking himself off, "In....and out..."

He's pretending he's inside you. The thought alone is enough to make you moan, and you have to bring your other hand up to cover your mouth as you fuck yourself along to his pace. You add a second without being asked, whimpering pitifully into the phone and spreading your legs wider.

"Oh, babygirl," he whispers, "Those sounds you make..." he groans, low and deep, "Two fingers now, sweetheart."

"I'm already using two," you admit, still pumping them in and out; he groans again, even louder.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, "Three then, baby. Add your third, that's it." You hear another slap of skin and the sound is enough to make your orgasm begin to build in your belly. You wish he was here with you, holding you, touching you.

"I wish you were inside me," you find yourself whispering, voice shaky and pathetic.

He groans again, "Which part of me, sweetheart? My fingers?"

You shake your head, "No."

"Say it."

"Your cock," you whimper, chest heaving as you feel yourself getting closer and closer, "I want your cock inside me."

"Fuck," his voice is even deeper in your ear, almost like he's right there next to you, "I know you do, angel. Want it so fucking deep, don't you?"

You nod ferociously despite the fact that he can't see you, plunging your three fingers in and out steadily and feeling your legs begin to shake, "Yes, Mr. Miller," you whimper, "I need it."

"You do need it," he groans, "You need this cock, babygirl. Can't believe you never had one before, can't stop thinkin' about it," the slapping is getting faster, louder.

"I wanted it so bad last night," you keen, eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure, "And when you didn't call, I thought maybe-"

"Oh, babygirl," he groans, "Don't think like that, don't ever-" he lets out a deep grunt, almost like a whimper, "Don't think for one second that I don't think about you, about that pussy. Can't wait to be inside you. Gonna fuck you so good, so right," he grunts, his voice becoming more and more strained, "Gonna be so deep inside that sweet little hole, you're gonna feel it in your fuckin' stomach."

Holy fuck. He's never talked this much before, never said things this filthy or graphic. It's too much for you to handle all at once, pussy tightening around your fingers as his words bring you over the edge.

"I'm coming," you manage to squeak out, then slap your hand back down on your mouth as you shake and writhe under the blankets, moaning pitifully into your hand and praying your parents don't hear you.

Joel doesn't tell you he's coming but the slapping sound suddenly comes to a complete stop, and the next thing you know he's groaning loudly in your ear, breathy and rough. You listen to him, closing your eyes and letting his sounds invade your whole body as you come, wrapping around you like another warm blanket. You've never heard him make sounds like this, depraved and guttural and loud. You can only imagine what he looks like right now, what his cock looks like. You know what happens when men come, you know about ejaculation, but the thought of Joel doing that... right now...

"Mmmhmmm," you moan into your hand and feel your eyes roll back, picturing Joel laying in his bed, hand around his cock, "Oh...fuck..." you fuck yourself with your fingers until it's too much, until the sensations are borderline painful. You move your hand away from your pussy and squeeze down on your thigh, trying to get your legs to stop shaking.

There's a few moments of heavy breathing where neither of you speak, both of you coming down from your orgasms and trying to catch your breaths. You open your legs wider and lay there like a starfish, eyes closed, chest heaving. You hear the door slam downstairs, followed by the sound of your father getting in his police car and your mother getting in her SUV.

"My parents just left." you mutter, still breathless.

Joel chuckles softly, "Think they heard you?"

You shake your head, "No way, they'd have already broken down my door if they had any idea what's going on up here."

He laughs again, "Hold on a sec, let me clean myself up here a bit."

You can't help but smile at the image of Joel being vulnerable like that, having to clean up his own mess instead of yours. You shiver at the thought and slowly sit up in bed, body heavy and sated.

"That was... a lot," you say softly, still trying to even out your breaths, "All that... that stuff you said."

You hear the concern in his voice immediately, "Was it too much?"

"No," you say immediately, shaking your head, "No, not at all. I just..." you feel your cheeks burn, "I wasn't expecting....I didn't realize how much you thought about doing that."

"Doin' what?" you can almost hear his smirk.

"...Fucking me," you whisper it, even though your parents are gone, "Putting your...putting your cock in me."

He groans again, softer this time, "I'll be honest, darlin'. It was all I thought about yesterday at work. And it's all I'm gonna be thinkin' about today."

You shiver, lips turning up in a pleased smile, "Really?"

"Really, sweetheart. And I know we're takin' it slow, and that's okay, but fuck if I don't think about how that pussy's gonna feel around me..." he groans again and you feel the undeniable sensation of yourself getting wet again; insatiable.

"What if...what if it doesn't fit?" you ask quietly, unsure just like yesterday, "I know you said we'll make it fit but..."

"It'll fit," he reassures you tenderly, "Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll go real slow, I'll be real gentle, and you just take it," he takes a breath, slow and steady, "You were made to take it, babygirl."

You hear yourself whimper softly, closing your eyes and turning your head into your pillow. God, you could listen to him talk to you like this for hours, just telling you everything he wants to do to you, everything he wants to teach you...

"When can I see you again?" you whisper.

"Well, that's what we need to figure out now, isn't it?" you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice, "When are these guitar lessons gonna take place?"

You wince, sitting up a bit in bed and leaning back against your pillows, "So you're okay with that? With me lying, I mean?"

"If that's what you feel you need to do, then it's okay," he says, and you can tell he means it, "I will probably have to actually teach you some guitar, though."

"I don't mind," you reply with a smile, remembering the way his hands had felt on yours when he'd first shown you those chords, the way you'd settled between his legs and he'd held you so close to him, "...As long as you teach me in your bed."

"Fuck," he murmurs, voice going dark again, "You are a naughty girl, aren't you?"

You can't help but smirk, "It's starting to seem that way, yeah."

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

blurb of steve harrington x reader having a daddy kink (minors DNI; not proofread)

maybe it was the warmth of steve’s heated pool or the sips of rosé you had rushing to your brain, but you couldn’t stop the fluttering in your tummy as you watched steve play basketball with the younger teens in his pool. you certainly couldnt stop the feeling when robin swam up to sit with you on the pool steps and pointed out steve’s behavior, “ugh look at dingus… god he’s gonna be such a good dad one day- it’s kinda annoying.” of course, you couldn’t help but agree with her, a dreamy sigh slipping out of your month while steve dunked dustin under the water, and you had begun imagining him with a lil fluffy-haired babe of his own. robin clocked the way you were looking at steve, “don’t you agree?” she questioned as you quickly nodded your head, “oh i see- you wanna be the one to make him a daddddyyy!” teasing you in that sing-song voice, making you simply giggle in return, trying to ignore the warmth that flushed to your cunt thinking about steve as a daddy.

one of the best things about your relationship with steve is that he almost always can tell how you are feeling, he can read you like a book. so you weren’t shocked that he immediately could tell what you needed when you wrapped your arms around him, basically hugging him from behind as he cleaned the grill, clad in just his yellow crewneck over your damp bikini to fight the nip of the wind. at this point, everyone had left so he felt no shame as he put his arm around your shoulder, pulled you into his side, and stared at your glassy puppy-dog eyes. breathlessly chuckling, he pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead, “i know, honey, i know.”

once you got inside, steve all but carried you to his bedroom, both of you loving the way he manhandled you, as you pressed small pecks on his jaw and cheeks. “are you feeling needy, baby, huh?” he teased, turning the knob on his door, noticing the way your hips were trying to hump his. you could whimper and squirm in response as steve sat down on his bed with you in his lap. you were both so turned on, and still a lil tipsy, so it wasn’t a surprise when you ended sinking down on his throbbing cock, his hands on your waist, within a few minutes. “o’shit baby, yeah there you go, my good girl. jus’ the tip, ok, don’t hurt yourself baby- god you’re so fuckin wet,” steve couldn’t help his whines and moans as you trembled like a leaf around him, cockdrunk trying to take him deeper. “hnghhh-oh! i-i ca- cant-s’good daddy”. you didn’t catch the petname slipping past your lips, but steve did. stopping you from sinking any further, he stilled your hips and grabbed your face by squishing your checks “what did u call me, honey?” of course you were beyond embarrassed, but with his steady grip in your face you had nowhere to run. “i’m s’sorry! i didnt mean to i-it jus’ slipped out-” you felt stupid and small and you couldn’t control the tears dripping from your eyes. “aw, sweetheart, it’s okay, dont be embarrassed. i jus’ wanted to know why you want to call me that. y’know ill give you whatever you ask for, angel”. you stopped your sniffling, and shifted your eyes to nervously connect with steve’s, basically whining out “ ‘s just-robin asked me if i was ever gonna make you a dad, ‘n’ i cant help imagining it- you take such good care of all of the group now, and well… me so i jus’ couldnt stop thinkin’ about it”

steve could say he was surprised but, he wasn’t. at heart, he was a caregiver through and through, and that carried into your relationship to an extreme. there was a hint of casual dominance in everything he did for you. tying your shoes, carrying you around, bathing you in the shower or bath, keeping your hands warm in his pocket, making you meals, feeding you when you were to weak, kissing you to sleep everynight, etc,. and to be honest, he blushed to the thought of you wanting his babies as bad as he wanted to give them to you.

“aw, peach,” he cooed grabbing your face and slowly thrusting into you, watching you contort your pout into a gasp, “you’re s’sweet, love, one day, you’re gonna let me put a baby in you, hm? yeah but until, i’ll just be your daddy, you can have me all to yourself, how ‘bout that, honey?” you rapidly nodded your head with your eyes pinched, whimpering and whining about how good it felt and how deep he was, as you began to match his thrusts, slowing building a steady pace as he went further and further inside you. “my shy, dumb lil baby, huh? put daddy’s cock in you and you can’t respond t’me? that’s okay, my girl, my good girl, just let your head go empty and daddy will do all the work, gonna make this soaked, pretty pussy cum all over me.”

[kquil]

🍪 : cookie with Siri and giving their baby a bath. Like sitting in the tub together and bathing the baby 😭💕

A/N : this is a mini series and Remus's version is on the way i promise! (thank you for requesting a whole mini series of this adorable scenario, my lovely (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)) this one is a little angsty but still fluffy ٩( ^ᴗ^ )۶

Sirius isn’t used to a loving family, nor is he used to engaging in fun family activities together; it wasn’t a concept that he was used to. So when you suggested taking a bath together with your baby, he was stunned but definitely up for for giving it a try. 

“I-Isn’t this a little bizarre, doll?” Sirius asks, embarrassed as he watches you undress before him despite his preceding playboy reputation at Hogwarts. 

“Not at all, Siri,” you giggle and bring your daughter into your arms as you step into the bath, sinking down to sit in between his outstretched legs as his arms sit atop the bath’s surrounding edges, “and besides, it’ll help Aurelie with her bath phobia,”

“She has a phobia?” Sirius’s brows immediately furrow as his worried gaze affixes onto his pouting, teary-eyed daughter, who's being more fussy than usual. How has he not noticed before?

“Yeah,” you muse sadly, cooing at your daughter and kissing her temple comfortingly, “she’s always fussy when it comes to baths so I thought that maybe if we sit with her, she’ll learn to like it,”

Sirius sighs in disappointment, “I’m a bad father…” his face turns sour as he thinks about his own upbringing and how his parents’ mistreatment of him is now affecting him as a father and, therefore, his beloved daughter too. 

“I know what you’re thinking and you need to stop it right now Sirius,” your voice is firm and strict as you turn his chin to look him in the eye. There’s anger, sadness, guilt and disappointment in his grey eyes, a whirlpool of tormented emotions still haunting him, “you’re working so hard providing for us so it’s okay for you to miss out on Aurelie’s bath times so you can rest,” 

“But-”

“None of that-”

“Wahhhhh!” your daughter’s shrill cry breaks your moment and you both turn to tend to her discomfort. 

“What’s wrong, princess?” Sirius coos, his soothing voice and the familiar touch of his hand against her tiny back immediately having an effect on her.

Observant as ever, you spot the problem instantly and lean your head against your husband’s shoulder so you could whisper to him, “she probably saw your distress and got worried for you too. Maybe she thinks you both share a fear of baths,” you giggle and shuffle yourself and your daughter closer to your husband, “lets show her that there’s nothing to fear,”

Smiling warmly, the earlier negative thoughts long forgotten, Sirius coos at his daughter, “don’t be frightened baby,” he creates small waves in the water with his hand. He then presses his fingers together and lifts a small cup of water up to cascade over his daughter’s small shoulders and back, “see? It’s safe, you’re safe,”

“Daddy will keep us safe and happy, darling,” you coo and kiss her cheek as Sirius kisses her other cheek, “we can relax when Daddy’s around,” it takes a little more convincing but Aurelie finally seems to be comfortable enough with the water to splash it with her tiny hands and squeal in delight. 

“Good girl, see? All safe~” Sirius coos, expression warm and so full of love as he looks adoringly at the manifestation of his and your love ⏤ his perfect little princess. 

“Good job, Daddy,” you coo and kiss his jawline, feeling his cheeks round into a smile before he turns and kisses your temple.

"Je t'aime tellement,"

TRANSLATION ⏤Je t'aime tellement : I love you so much

1K MILESTONE EVENT | NAVI.

[heartsforvin]

FOREVER BOY - prologue

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!bestfriend!reader

warnings: cussing, mentions of death / parent loss, pet names

authors note: reader has a single father figure + brothers. this was incorporated into forever boy on my wattpad, just an fyi !

main m.list

forever boy m.list

forever boy playlist

forever boy moodboard

forever boy taglist

you and vinnie had known each other for as long as you can remember. you met when you were just three years old, you two have been through everything together.

you’re each others childhood best friend, everyone is shocked when you tell them you two are still inseparable as day one.

growing up together was fun, because it wasn’t just you and vinnie, there was vinnie’s younger brother too. 

your family adored vinnie, as his with yours. ever since your father took you over to vinnie’s house and you both met his family, you and vinnie became inseparable ever since.

as time went on and the two of you grew older, everyone thought sure enough that the two of you would end up together. that was not the case, however.

you’ve definitely had those ‘what if’s’ about being more than friends with vinnie, but was it really risking the friendship the two of you have?

you also wouldn’t dare to tell vinnie that you’ve had those thoughts about you and him together, knowing you’d be deeply embarrassed if you did.

it was best to keep that secret to yourself.

two days after vinnie had turned eighteen, he had gotten an opportunity to move out to california to peruse a career out there.

once he told you that, your world crumbled down, wondering what his answer would be.

you’ve asked day and night what his answer is, and you still hadn’t gotten a single one.

not until about two years ago. now that’s when your world really crashed and burned.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

two years ago…

vinnie was over the moon to give the news that he had finally chosen. he knew it would absolutely break your heart, but he also couldn’t pass this up.

it was the biggest opportunity he’d gotten. his modeling never got too far, so getting this would be a huge deal.

he had already told his parents and reggie the news, so now you were the last one to know.

vinnie could feel his chest tighten as he made his way to your front door. he hoped you’d be happy for him, obviously he’s expecting hurt, but overall he wants support from you.

knocking on the door, he waits for an answer anxiously, wiping his palms against his jeans.

“hey ben, how are you?” vinnie greets your father with a smile as he walks in the door.

the two walked to the kitchen and the older man had gotten vinnie a glass of water.

“pretty good, works been busy but i’ve been alright. how ‘bout you, son?” the man asks.

vinnie takes a sip of his water before nodding his head. “good, good,” he replies, looking around the kitchen.

the older man notices vinnie’s distracted demeanor and laughs. “lookin’ for y/n, aren’t you?”

vinnie turns his head and gives a wide smile. ben notices and nods his head to the direction of the stairs. “she’s up in her room.”

he thanks the man for the glass of water before heading up the stairs to your room.

"y/n?”vinnie questioned as he softly knocked on your bedroom door.

it was partially opened so vinnie could see in. he smiled once he saw the sight — you dancing around in your with your headphones in, not noticing the boy at all.

pushing the door open, he stepped inside,  finally catching the your attention.

turning off your music, you took your earbuds out, putting both on your nightstand.

"hey vin!" you exclaimed, smiling widely at the boy in front of you.

vinnie smiled back. "hey y/n.” his voice was laced with worry, which you noticed immediately.

you both took a seat next to each other on your bed. you searched the boy’s face, trying to figure out what could be wrong.

"v, what's wrong?" you asked, watching as vinnie grabbed your hands in his.

to be honest, he was nervous. even though he was excited, that tiny bit of adrenaline rush was soon gone and it was all nerves now.

he knew this news wouldn't break your friendship.tons of people have friends across the world, friends that move away from each other, and they all still make it work.

he just hoped this didn't ruin you both. he couldn’t imagine a world where you and him weren’t friends.

“i’ve got somethin’ exciting to tell you.” he hoped if he said ‘exciting’ it might lighten the tension.

you look at him wearily, hoping the news is as exciting as he says it is.

vinnie takes a deep breath before finally saying what he’s been dreading but also so excited to tell you.

“so, i’d gotten an opportunity to go out to LA to that content house i showed you, remember that?” he asks, you nod, remembering him telling you. “they offered me a spot there, to peruse all that stuff i used to do.”

vinnie stopped posting on socials a few months back to focus more on schooling, but kept up with it from time to time.

it seemed to pay off though, seeing as someone had reached out asking if he wanted to join them in a house with a different other creators.

you nod your head, letting him know to continue. “what do you think, should i take it?”

vinnie waits for your response, and once he sees you went somewhere, he tries to pull you back to him. “you in there, bug?”

the nickname made you smile, thinking of the time he came up with it for you when you’d always find ladybugs and show them to him. along with them being one of your favorite things.

you nod, turning to face the boy you’ve known for over a decade now. “i’m here.”

he smiles, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear as he makes direct eye contact. its intimate, almost too intimate.

the two of you pull away and you clear your throat, acting as nothing happened mere seconds ago.

“do you think i should do it?” he asks again, needing your opinion.

this was his decision yes. it was ultimately his decision, but he cared about your opinion the most.

you wanted to tell him not to go, to stay with you and leave his dream behind.

you knew that was selfish though.

so you put on your best fake smile and looked at your best friend. “take it.” you said.

vinnie smiles but it falters immediately when he sees you put your head down.

“hey, hey,” he lifts your chin with his index finger. “i don’t have to go, i can stay here with you.”

you shake your head, tears welling in your eyes as you cling onto the boy you’ve loved for years.

“it’s just-“ you cut yourself off, shaking your head again.

vinnie’s patient with you, letting you know he’s listening. he grabs your hand and squeezes it gently.

“i know i have my dad and brothers, and your parents and reggie, but i need you.” you tell him.

vinnie sighs, he knew this would be another outcome. “sweetheart,” he starts.

you look up at him and he continues. “i know it’s been hard since your mom passed, but you’re not alone, bug. trust me.”

you nod in understanding, coming to terms with what he’s saying. you’ll be okay, he can leave and live his dream and you’ll be okay.

you’ll talk everyday, video call when you can, and both of you will be okay.

you stand up and grab his hands, pulling him into a hug. “we’ll be okay.” you whisper.

vinnie smiles and hugs you tighter, taking in your words. the two of you pull away and he holds your cheeks in his hands, smile still on his face.

“i’m a phone call away, anytime you need me or anything, you call. got it?” he informs you.

you nod and he kisses your forehead, both of you smiling at each other. “we’ll be okay.” he whispers.

he didn’t live up to a single word he said though, but it was too late to notice….

omg prologue is finally out !!!!! had to rewrite this but i hope you guys like the series so so far !!!

i’m so excited to start this !! i’ll try to post frequently, as often as i can <3

thank you for reading , rb’s & comments / feedback is always appreciated <3

taglist: @sturnioloshacker , @miilzzy , @glmpsfs , @defnotayonna , @visualbutterflysworld , @ailyakdream , @khackerr , @bernelflo

[jasperhaleobsessed]

Comfort

Jasper Hale x Female Reader requested by anon.

Summary: Hi, I don’t know if this breaks your rules, but I just started my period and it’s really been beating me up! I went looking for some fanfics of Jasper Hale comforting a femreader while she’s on her period. I know Jasper has issues with blood, but seeing the reader in pain may help with him get over that to help her? I don’t know I just need some comfort/fluff because I’m in pain lol. Thank you <3

Notes: I hope I fulfilled what you wanted but if you would like me to write it in a different way or something else let me know! I tried to get it done today since you sounded like you needed it! Also anon I hope you feel better, I know it sucks I've been there and done that! Hope you enjoy! <3 May contain spelling errors sorry!

Warnings: Talks of periods, cramps, tylenol, etc, etc, etc.

Word count: 1k

Y/N’s POV

I was hunched over rubbing my stomach hoping that it would relieve some of my pain. Currently I am experiencing awful cramps due to my period and to say the least it sucks. I decided to get up and get some medicine to hopefully ease some of my pain.

I walked slowly downstairs. My joints and other parts of my body ached so my movement wasn’t as swift or steady as it normally would be. I decided not to dwell on that fact and headed for the kitchen to get some tylenol. I want to feel better as soon as possible so the sooner I can take this medicine the better. As I walked into the kitchen My mom smiled at me sympathetically, “How are you feeling honey?” She asked.

“Not great.” I mumbled. She leaned forward and kissed the top of my forehead, “I hope you feel better sweetheart. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”

“Thanks mom.” I gave her a weak smile.

I grabbed a cup from the cupboard, poured some water in it, and quickly grabbed the tylenol bottle and headed to my bedroom. As I was walking upstairs I swore I heard something but I looked around and there was nothing there. I peeked in the hall area and downstairs and again nothing was there. I felt like I was going crazy. Why did I hear? I felt annoyed but decided to just get back to my comfy bed and to not worry.

I positioned the tylenol in my arm so I could push my door open and it made a creeking sound as it opened wider. I saw something that made my heart leap out of my chest. Jasper. He was sitting on my bed, his back was straight and his general posture seemed rigid like he was in pain. What's wrong? I guess he was the one I thought I saw. But why'd he gotta scare me like that? Something is wrong. Definitely very wrong.

I carefully step into my room. My heart was beating rapidly. He quickly turned to meet my gaze. His eyes were coal black. I put my water and tylenol on my nightstand. “Are you okay?” He asked, his expression was full of worry. But his expression also conveyed pain.

“I'm fine Jazz.” I croaked. My voice came out a lot less smooth than I would have liked. He immediately moved to my side cupping my cheek, his face was inches away from mine. “Please don't lie to me. Something is wrong, I can feel it.” His eyes darted around, looking me over worryingly.

He spoke up again, “I can smell blood but I don't see anything physically wrong?” He sounded like he was talking to himself rather than me.

I grasped his arm, I had finally caught on. “Jasper this is kind of embarrassing but um…”

“But what?” He questioned. I stayed quiet for a minute. He sent a wave of calm emotions through me. He caressed my cheek lovingly and encouragingly.

“I'm on my period that is why you smell blood.” I felt my cheeks flush. He sighed, “I'm glad you're not injured or dying.” He rubbed my hair affectionately. “Me too.” I murmured. I hugged him tightly, wrapped my arms around his waist.

My breathing calmed after a minute. I stayed quiet for a second but then spoke up and said, “Perhaps you should go. I don't want you to overexert yourself.”

“You want me to go?” He asked, he looked hurt.

“Well no of course not. I can just tell you're hungry and-” He cut me off.

“Are you scared of me?”

“No, I'm not scared of you! I will never be scared of you. I just don't want you to feel like you have to stay when you need to feed. I don't want you to feel like you have to stay. I don't wanna be a burden. “

“You will never be a burden. Yes I should probably go but I am not leaving you all alone when you need me.”

He then continued, “Now get into the bed so I can cuddle you.” I beamed at him. I moved to my soft bed and he moved to the other side. I snuggle into his chest. I felt content, perfectly at ease as if I felt no stabbing pain in my stomach.

Silence filled the air and I couldn't help but think back to the conversation we had only minutes ago. And suddenly I thought, “Why'd you scare me?” I asked.

“What do you mean scare you? I thought you said I didn't scare you?” He questioned, he suddenly moved his shoulders away as if he would move at any moment.

“Oh not that I meant why were you sneaking around?” I mentally smacked my forehead. I should have elaborated.

“Oh that I never meant to scare ya. Sorry Darlin’ that was not my intention.” I giggled at him.

“What's so funny Missy?” He questions with a quirked eyebrow.

“You!” I say with a goofy smile.

“Really?” He questions, but then he suddenly a smirk appears on his beautiful features. He started to tickle my sides and I let out more soft giggles and squeals.

“How come you came? Did you know I was hurt or something?” I asked.

“Alice started to tell me but I didn't let her finish.” He looked at me sheepishly. I let out another giggle. “I heard something was wrong so I came as fast as I could even if I could risk hurting you I had to make sure you were alright.”

He then continued, “If anything were to happen to you I don't know what I'd do.” He lifted my chin to meet his gaze. I felt my heart skip a beat as I looked into his honey colored eyes. A smile graced his face and he slowly leaned forward and kissed my lips.

After a minute I moved away and said, “Nothing is going to happen to me. Clearly me breathing and snuggling into your chest is testament to that. You do have control, you just have to have more faith in yourself. Give yourself more credit, love.” His smile widened and he hugged me softly, I already felt much better. I felt at peace in his strong arms that wrapped around my figure. My eyes started to feel tired and I laid my head against his chest and I fell into a blissful sleep. I guess I didn't need tylenol after all, all I needed was my angel of a boyfriend.

The End

[aurumacadicus]

Plz post a scene of Bucky finally catching up to Steve after being taken out at the knees. Please 🙏🙏🙏

The next time there's a knock on the door, Steve is passed out on the couch with a glass of water on the coffee table. Steve didn't get to 'love on' him very long before the meds kicked in all the way.

"You can't beat him to death. He's asleep," Tony tells Bucky imperiously as he opens the door. Then he sort of chokes, taking a step back in shock.

"...I take it that Steve didn't really have time to go into the extent of the attack before he passed out," Bucky drawls, stepping past him as if Tony isn't staring at the pinned-up sleeve at his left shoulder. "Punk. I gave him his painkiller right on time and he looked me in my eyes and whacked my knee with his crutch. He'll be lucky if I beat him to death."

"Um," Tony says, because he's never really known what to say in the face of their casual violence toward each other. His friendship with Rhodey is built on the fact that they like to cuddle a lot.

Bucky looks Steve over carefully, then sighs, dropping into the chair across from him. "Well, he looks like he's in one piece. I suppose I can forgive him just this once, considering that he was so distraught when he woke up and I had to tell him he didn't have anymore letters."

Tony finds himself shrinking in embarrassment. "Oh. Well, I thought--"

"I know why the letters stopped coming, Tony," Bucky sighs, rolling his eyes. "Kid meant well, and it's not your fault, I'm just tellin' ya like it is. 's kinda why we're here when he--" He raises voice. "Should still be in the hospital!"

"Snorkmimimi," Steve answers, face still pressed unattractively into the cushion beneath him.

Bucky waves at Steve tiredly, in a 'what can you do' sort of fashion, as if Tony is not gaping at his prone body in offense for being tricked. "Shithead. Anyway, Natasha's coming with his overnight bag, and I'll explain to you all the pills he hasta take, and then you guys can have some privacy."

"Okay," Tony starts.

Steve immediately swivels into a seated position, as if he had not just been pretending to be asleep to avoid facing Bucky. "Natasha's on her way?"

"Buddy, you deserve what's coming to you," Bucky drawls, leaning back in his seat smugly.

Tony looks between them in confusion. "I thought we liked Natasha."

"She was the one who had to pick Bucky up after I took him out at the knees," Steve says morosely. "I'm so sorry Tony. You'll become a widower before we're even married."

"We're not even engaged," Tony splutters, completely bewildered. "Why is Natasha going to murder you?"

"I landed on my armless side," Bucky tells him, and Steve howls in dismay about being skinned alive and dipped in salt and vinegar like a giant Pringle before he can even fold tony in half like he'd planned all along.

"He can't even tie his own shoes," Natasha mutters, rolling her eyes, as she comes to stand beside Tony. "How the fuck is he going to fold you in half. My god."

Tony wonders why Natasha feels comfortable enough to just walk into his house, then decides he actually doesn't care, because she does not look like she's about to kill Steve and also the bag she's carrying looks large and he's hoping it's not all medicine.

[amphibimations]

Choose your own adventure comic, poll below!

You spend a very long time trying to decide what shape to make Pete. You immediately decide against a human or cow shape; A human would be too boring, and you don’t want to even try making something imaginary like a cow. The decision you struggle with is whether it will be a rat or a dragon… you really like both animals.

You decide you like dragons a bit more, so you gather up a mound of dirt and sculpt it into the shape of a tiny wyvern. You were thinking about rats so much while sculpting that it ends up looking a bit rat-like… that’s fine. It’s still clearly a dragon, even with the whiskers. 

You take a little stick and carve his name into his forehead (it’s the only thing you know how to spell in Shebic), and then you use petramancy to bring him to life!!!

He doesn’t need any instructions from you, he automatically knows what to do. You’ve made Pete so many times that he can basically read your mind. He runs off and starts searching the pitcher plants and sundews, quickly finding plenty of little bones. You’re so proud of him.

He drops the skeletons he's collected so far at your feet, and then turns around and runs off again to collect even more. Suddenly, you hear soft hoofbeats approaching. You turn around and see…

YOUR ARCH NEMESIS!!!!! ... It’s Heather Destrier. She thinks she’s so much better than you just because she’s a year older and knows history facts and is the daughter of a baroness. She thinks she’s better even though she has a weird haircut and a weird dad. One time she put a worm in your food when you weren’t looking. And she’s always saying mean things. Mean things like… “Ugh, what are YOU doing here?? You’re like, a two hour walk from your house… Did you get lost?? Is your brain made of dirt?? Is your dirt-brain the reason you’re always playing in the mud? That's so embarrassing for you.” Heather says.

You bet she’s just jealous that you can make a golem and she can’t. It doesn’t stop you from feeling angry. More than angry, though, you’re confused. Why is Heather riding her unicorn all the way out here? Right now, you two are at the farthest point into the bog you feel comfortable going. If a person goes much further they start running into the fairies, the harpies, the water monsters. They start running into the deceptive blankets of ground that float above the water and suck you in when you make a wrong step. Heather could die if she rides out there. You think about what you should say next.

Your first thought is that warning her away from the bog will be a great opportunity to call her an idiot, and just insult her in general. And she'll totally owe you one for saving her.

Your second thought is: why even warn her! If she gets lost that’s her own fault. You should skip straight to the insults. You could even remind her that her dress is illegal. She hates that.

Your third thought is…maybe you should try to stop her from going any further… by force. She needs to be saved from her own stupid decisions!! You could use magic to knock her off her unicorn! It would totally be for a good and moral reason. And not just because you want to knock her off her unicorn. 

This collaborative choose-your-own-adventure comic is called Codex Calluna. A new page will be posted every Saturday evening (est). If you would like to, reblogs mean more people will be able to see this and participate! 

Archive blog with only the comic pages: here Page one

[ink4blotches]

OTP

(Pavitr Prabhakar x You)

Synopsis: You like Mumbattan more than New York, so you chill there often. And sometimes help your best friend out as Spider-Woman. But the people of Mumbattan think there's something more to the relationship of the two heroes.

•

•

•

"What does OTP mean?" Pavitr breaks the comfortable silence that had set in as we sat atop the tallest building in Mumbattan, staring down at the -very- busy streets below.

"Uhm..Only Thing Purple?" I guess, scooting over as Pav moves to sit next to me. "No, it means 'One True Pairing', actually." He states, showing me his phone screen and scrolling on Tik Tok.

The video consisted of a fight Pav and I had the other day with an anomaly. Specifically the part where I not so heroically got electrocuted because I stepped in water.

The music filled as Pav landed beside me, reaching out and putting a hand on shoulder. "You oka-" He got cut off as he was shocked as well.

"Okay why would someone edit that?" I ask as I read the caption.

Two dumbasses...literally made for eachother!!

"I know right? I can still feel the lightning in my veins." Pav shivers, pulling his phone away from me. "And there are tons of edits of us saying we're OTP." He concludes.

A second passes in awkward, notedly not comfortable, silence before a loud explosion came from the streets below.

Ah, back to work.

•

•

•

•

"And Look at That! Our very own heroes have swung by for a quick hello!" The reporter woman smiled at us as I wiped the dirt off my clothed leg.

I smiled back, instantly stopping once I realized she can't see through my mask. "Are you- oh wow, is this live?" Pav asks, waving at the camera.

"Stop you're so embarrassing." I judged his shoulder, to which he threw an arm over my neck and ruffled my hair. "You know you love me." He laughs.

"Oh, wow! That brings me to my only question...the public wanna know! Are you two an item?"

Not this again.

Before I can open my mouth to deny, Pav laughs.

"No, but...might as well do this now. Y- I mean, Spider-Woman. I love everything about you. The way you part your hair, the way you laugh, all the way to your face when you eat really tasty food. And as the months have passed, I realized that I love you. So, will you go out with me?"

I looked between him and the camera, then back at him.

"Nah, I'll pass." I say simply. The lenses on his mask widen.

"I'm kidding! I'm joking! Yes, I'll go out with you Paaaaa...l. Pal." I caught myself. "Oh, my god. Yes!" He tackles me into a hug.

"This is great and all...but can one of you swing this girl to the hospital? The ambulance is backed up..." A paramedic taps me on the shoulder.

I immediately throw myself off Pav. "Yes- of course I'm so sorry come on let's go girl." I grab the citizen, being careful not to touch her...ouch, really nasty arm and swing away.

It takes a lot of focus to swing through Mumbattan with a passenger, but I've done it a billion times. However, it's a little more difficult this time.

Since my heart won't stop beating so fast.

•

•

•

•

I sat in a chair next to one of the crash victim's hospital bed. The teenage boy hadn't woken up yet, and as much as I'd like to be with Pav right now, my duty as Spider-Woman is to make sure people are safe- even if they're not from my universe.

The boy suddenly stirred in his bed, which caused me to put down my phone. "Hey, you're awake. You got into a car crash. How are you feeling?" I ask the boy, who's hospital bracelet says Aarush. Cute name.

"Ugh...like shit. Who are you?" Oh damn I forgot I took my costume off. "Uh...my names Carly, I'm a med student. It's a whole program- don't even worry about it." I shake my head with a laugh.

"Oh, okay. Hey, look it's Spider-Man." He looks at the TV which had been playing the news. I looked up just in time to catch Pav(Spider-Man) catch my hand with a web after I fell off the bridge trying to keep a car up.

I should probably work out more.

I watch with a warm face as the entire scene from earlier plays out again, Pav wrapping me in a hug and me swinging away with a girl in my arms.

"Damn, Spider-Man and Spider-Woman are totally OTP."

[xxnghtclls]

Permission

Chapter 10

(Chapter 9; Chapter 11)

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

Monster

The sound of a door sliding shut.

You wake up, still being in the position you last remember. On your stomach, naked and on King Sukuna’s bed. You’re alone. Not remembering how you fell asleep, you shift your body a little. It aches. Bruises on your hips, aching muscles in your thighs and ass. You feel a wetness on your thighs.

Sticky.

His cum is still sticking to your holes, sticking to your thighs. It almost shocks you how much it is.

He’s not human after all.

You slowly get up and slide off the bed. Every movement hurts. You take a step and feel your pelvic muscles relax. Down it goes. His fluids run out of your holes, down your thighs. You didn’t expect him to take care of you after he’s done, but experiencing this right now... it feels embarrassing, used, alone.

Asshole.

Let me make you mine, his words are replaying in your mind.

He made you feel so good. You never experienced this kind of feeling before, not even with your hands. It was just so intense. A proud feeling tickles your heart, because the mess between your legs must mean, that you made him feel good, too.

Your King’s cum is slowly reaching your knee as you step back into reality, you turn around to look for your undergarment you tossed to the floor last night. Spotting it right at the other edge of the bed, you painfully crouch down to pick it up, as you hear a knock on the door. You jump and press the garment in front of your bare figure, as the door opens. Instead of Sukuna, a maiden walks in, her head lowered. You’re frozen, because she caught you naked in his chambers, but as you watch her collect the dirty sheets and putting them on the food tray, you figure that that’s one of her duties. She doesn’t look at you once, just quietly leaves the room with the cart and the sheets.

You loudly exhale. Again you must’ve hold your breath without noticing. Cum tickling your calf, you remember to quickly get back into your room. Peeking out of the door to his chambers, you make sure there’s no one outside, before you run as fast as you can back to your room.

As you enter your room, panting, you remember that your Kimono is still at the hidden hot spring behind his chambers.

Fuck.

Before you can take care of that, you go to the bowl of water that’s seated in your room to wash yourself. Rubbing your skin with a wet cloth, you have to work at some parts, because some of the fluids are already dried on your skin. You wrinkle your nose, because you didn’t think sex would involve this kind of unpleasant parts, but here you are, cleaning yourself from the seed of the King himself.

I should be honored, you think sarcastically.

After you finish cleaning yourself, you turn around to your futon, only to find a neatly folded Kimono on it. You didn’t notice it when you came in earlier. It’s new. You know, because you only own two. One’s at the springs and one is still hanging to dry. This one is not one of them. How convenient. You try it on immediately and ...

it looks so similar to his.

Did he send it?

Its white with dark blue edges, a few pink coloured cherry blossoms decorate it. A white triangle shaped pattern on the obi, just like his.

Your heart jumps, it looks so pretty and you can’t help to think it might have been a gift from him.

After admiring your new piece of clothing and whining about how much your body aches, you decide it’s more than late to start your duties for the day.

Scrubbing and polishing the floor in the halls again, your mind is busy recapping what happened last night and when and if you’re going to do that again. You remember him denying the kiss you so badly wanted and wonder if you “earned” it now, with him claiming you. Just as sex, you never kissed anyone in your life before and it’s a weird thought to you that you lost your virginity before you had your first kiss.

How his lips must feel?

On yours. Down there. His spit. His tongue. Wait.

You remember the tongue that appeared on his hand as it licked right through your folds. The tongue that stole your taste in the hot spring. Sighing, you can’t help to think that you want to feel it again, also want to feel his face between your thighs, tug his soft hair, maybe even earn a purr. Mindlessly scrubbing the floor, you can feel it.

You’re horny again.

Your horny thoughts get interrupted by a loud splash as your bucket with water is being kicked over.

Again.

In the fraction of a second you’re being pulled up and pushed against the nearest wall.

“You filthy little slut. Think you can just go after him? Think you can just offer your dirty little cunt to my King? Wear this fucking piece of shit?” the mean bitch spits through her teeth.

“Fuck you!” you’re not holding back this time.

She slaps your face. “Watch your little mouth or i will make sure to stuff it!”

“Just like he did with yours?” you chuckle.

She spits on your new kimono and rises her fist “I swear to my King, I will-“

“Damaging Master Sukuna’s subordinates will get you in trouble. You know that.” a slight threat paints their monotone voice. You look to your left and are relieved to see Uraume.

What a timing.

The bitch doesn’t even turn around, she just pants angrily in your face, as she lowers her fist and lets you go.

“Master Sukuna will await his dinner from you tonight, y/n. Make sure to be on time.” Uraume says.

The bitch huffs and walks away with heavy steps.

What a child.

“Thank you, Uraume.” you bow your head and they walk away quietly.

At sunset, you find yourself walking up to his chambers.

The incident with the mean bitch lowered your mood. You were so happy about the new kimono and yet she managed to ruin it and ruin your excitement to wear it for your meeting tonight. Since the other kimono is still drying and the other one still at the springs, you just washed the stain with water and patted it dry. The stain is still slightly visible but its better than to catch a cold with moist clothing. You only hope, that he won’t be angry with you.

You stand in front of his door. Excitement washes over you again, which lifts your mood. You want to feel his touch again. Knuckles rise and

Knock

Knock

Knock

Same procedure as every night, you walk into his room with the cart. The door to the gardens opened like usual, a chilly breeze is coming in from the outside. Looking carefree around the room, you don’t see him anywhere, only the small fireplace. It’s softly crackling in the corner of the room.

“Sukuna?”

Silence.

Maybe he’s not here tonight.

That’s your thought, as his energy creeps up behind you, gripping your throat.

“Tch Tch Tch, my little kitten just walks into my chambers, forgetting all her manners.” his voice so seductive. In combination with his energy on your throat, it makes you clench your thighs and you can’t hold back an audible exhale.

He’s behind you, walking slowly towards your back. You can feel his fingers replace his energy on your throat. His hands so big, they wrap around your neck so easily. Warm. You feel his face and breath softly graze your hair.

Closing your eyes, you dwell in his touch, until the grip grows unpleasant. Forceful. Eyes shoot open, as he pushes you a few steps against the cart and bents you over it.

“I think I have to teach her some. Make her remember her place.” Sukuna whispers into your ear. You would think he wants to take you there on the spot, if there wasn’t this intimidating energy around you. Threatening.

You understand. Understand, that your dumb little mind made you walk into the room like you weren’t just another one of his subordinate. Losing your virginity to him made you act without thinking. You would lie if you would say there isn’t an ounce of fear running in your veins now. He let’s go of his grip and walks into your sight. Sukuna is only wearing the black sirwal, you’ve seen him wearing in the throne room once. His naked upper body is painted in the soft blue moonlight and some orange from the fireplace. Just like last night. You look up to his face. His bottom left eye is watching you, as his other eyes are fixated on the plate on the tray. The orange of the fireplace softly shining upon him, his muscular figure, stern look on his face and freshly cut hair make him look like a warrior.

Sukuna carefully removes the hood of the plate, revealing his usual dinner. A heart. Some fingers. Some slices of meat. Raw.

He picks up a finger from the plate in a little bit too casual manner for your taste and puts in his mouth. Like a snack. The cracking sound of the bone sends shivers over your back, as you watch him while your face grows more white by the second. He turns to look down at you, his eyes flaring.

“Eat!” he hisses as he motions to the heart.

“I-I... I’m not hungry, my King” your throat grows dry. Crack.

Another bone breaks between his teeth. Sukuna takes the heart in his right hand. It still seems to be wet with blood. He squeezes it softly, painting his skin in a dark red. His bottom eyes watching you intently.

“Forgive me for my ignorance earlier, Master Sukuna.” you bow your head. “Your treatment last night must’ve clouded my mind.”

He huffs.

Hearing it makes you nervous. In a bad way.

“I couldn’t- ahhh!” you get interrupted as he yanks your head up again with a hard tug on your hair.

It hurts.

Without a warning, he shoves the raw heart into your mouth. His gaze emotionless while he does that, saying nothing at all. Your eyes scream into his, as you start to gag. Gripping onto the wrist of his hand that’s shoving the heart into your mouth, you start to tap on it. He doesn’t care, shoves it further.

You panic.

Tears forming in your eyes, heart racing, your brain decides to bite it. You press your teeth into the piece of muscle, cutting through different kinds of tissue, some soft, some hard. Blood squeezes out of it, running down your chin, your throat, onto your kimono. Your teeth bite through and you end up with a piece of raw, human organ in your mouth. Seeing your efforts, he slams the leftover piece back onto the plate with a loud clatter.

“Swallow.” he orders in a low voice as he hovers over you, his eyes threatening.

You try with every might you have in you not to vomit all over your King, as you start to chew the piece of muscle. It’s chewy, tastes like blood and corpse and death. Your jaw hurts from your efforts. He’s punishing you, challenging you and you hate it.

Why today?

You manage to chew and finally, to swallow even. Sukuna huffs again as he lets you go, picking

up one of the slices of meat. You pant, trying to calm yourself from this situation, watching his movements, concentrating hard to not retch your guts out. Ignoring you and what he just did to you, he holds a slice of meat up, it appears even larger now and suddenly you hear a deep rumble, a low smack. Your eyes shoot down to his belly as you notice movement there. The slit on his belly, that you’ve noticed a few times before, suddenly opens, revealing sharp teeth and a big tongue. Horrified, you watch as Sukuna casually tosses the piece of meat into the maw of his torso.

Monster.

You gulp. “Permission to leave, my King.” you ask carefully.

“No.” he says, not even looking at you, already picking up another one of the fingers. You lower your gaze again, listening to the sounds of munching, crunching, swallowing of human flesh as he continues feasting on his dinner. It reminds you of the sounds you heard six years ago.

Devouring that woman. You try to breathe, calm your mind, calm your guts, until the sounds grow silent.

After a pause, you feel him staring at you, before he turns to walk into the direction of his bed, slumping down into the armchair beside it.

The armchair, on which he pushed you onto his cock last night.

You stand there, waiting, eyes fixated on the ground, unsure what will happen next. Minutes pass in uncomfortable silence.

Two taps.

“What happened?” he finally says in a calm voice.

“P-pardon, Master Sukuna?” you hate to admit that you feel scared of him.

You hear him stand up and walk towards you. Still looking down onto your feet, he suddenly appears in your sight, crouching down, looking up at you. You look down to him. Eyes so soft again, as if he hadn’t just done something horrible to you. His gaze makes you want to cry, but also relieves you of the tension that he built with his actions. Sukuna’s energy growing more and more gentle.

In silence, he moves is left hand up, puts his finger right onto the stain of your kimono, the stain of spit you failed to remove earlier. His finger bores into your sternum between the red traces of blood of the heart he forced you to eat and again, it all becomes too much. You lips start to tremble. He notices.

Sukuna’s look grows even softer, gently rising his eyebrow at you in an understanding manner, even gifting you a soft smile.

“I didn’t mean to, my King. I’m sorry!” your whispering voice breaking, tears pooling in your eyes.

“I know.” he says in a calm voice, as he stands up, moving out of your sight again, as you hear him walk towards the opened garden door.

“I feel so embarrassed.” you breathe, as you press your hands into fists “If you want me to leave, I will leave, my King.”

A pause. The sounds of the night fill the room, sounds of crickets, the pond, the wind.

“Last night I claimed you to be mine. You’re not allowed to leave.” he finally says.

Heart aching.

Your eyes still fixated on the floor, you hear him walk right back at you again, stopping at the tray. Eyes peeking up, theres still the bitten heart on the plate. He takes it into his right hand again.

“Permission to ask you a question.” carefully now.

“Ask. You also may raise your head, since you’re peeking again.”

Sometimes I want to slap myself.

“Do you make every of your subordinates bite a piece off a heart?”

“If they forget their place.” Sukuna pauses. “Usually...” he turns to look at you and raises his eyebrow. “I make them eat all of it.” he says as he bites into the remaining piece of bloody muscle.

[nikethestatue]

After the Rain

an Elriel Headcanon

@fawnandshadows​ happy early birthday present. You know I have no chill and can’t wait. Enjoy!

The first time Elain entered Azriel’s rooms she was drenched after being caught in a rainstorm

It was one of those sudden spring storms that came out of nowhere

She went to the fishmonger by the docks, who always had the freshest fish available, and just as she completed her purchase, the rain started

She was hurrying down the street, the rain pouring over her, making her dress cling to her body (immodestly)

Suddenly, a figure dropped from the skies, landing with an almost silent thud in front of her and a dark leathery wing immediately stretching over her head like an umbrella

“Oh,” was all she could gasp, observing the familiar, if forbidden, towering form in front of her

Wordlessly, as if this was all perfectly normal, Azriel scooped her into his arms, his embrace sure and firm, and they were airborne within seconds, the blessed comfort of his shield stretching over them, raindrops bouncing harmlessly over it

She clung to his neck with one arm, clutching her basket to her chest

Elain wasn’t afraid of flying. Not with Azriel. He was the first one she’d flown with, and the confident, unobtrusive hold of his arms around her body always felt comfortable, all fears forgotten

Surprisingly, he didn’t fly towards the River Estate, but took a turn and headed towards the House of Wind, which, granted, was a lot closer to them right now

She didn’t question him

They never really needed words to understand each other, to share in their closeness and when her cold hand wrapped around the skin of his neck, the thumb gently stroking under his ear was enough. It was permission. Encouragement

He landed on his balcony and opened the tall glass doors for her, ushering her inside

Elain entered, dripping water everywhere, leaving puddles on the floor

Azriel marched ahead of her and disappeared behind another door, leaving her to look around

The bedroom was large, the furnishings simple, but stylish, if impersonal. The bed was enormous, to accommodate the massive wings, and Elain glimpsed a walk-in wardrobe full of dark clothing. It surprised her--that he had so much clothes, and that everything looked kind of the same

“Here,” he re-emerged and handed her a drying cloth. “The bath is hot, if you want to warm up.” He nodded towards the bathing chamber, and felt her cheeks flame with...well, not embarrassment exactly. Perhaps it was more about anticipation and curiosity.

“I...have nothing to wear,” she murmured, taking the drying cloth in her hands, feeling his scarred fingertips brush over her skin

“My tunic is hanging on the door,” he told her, voice quiet. “You can wear that...” He swallowed. “If you want to”

Elain went inside the spacious bathing chamber, complete with an enormous bath and something called a ‘shower’ where water came from a spout. It was an invention that came from Dawn Court, and Elain was aware that Cassian had purchased it and mounted in the bathing chambers for Nesta, so she did not need to take baths anymore

Taking off her sodden dress, she stepped into the tub, finding it hot already. The water was steaming, and she had no idea how Azriel managed to fill it so quickly and make it so hot

However, she wanted to try this shower thing and she stepped under it...

And then nothing happened

The water did not pour over her and she stood there, shivering and disappointed. Oh, and naked, in Azriel’s chambers, no less

She waved her arms beneath the shower head, willing it to turn on, and still, nothing happened. She even poked some knob with her toe, and still, no water came out

Frustrated, she snatched the drying cloth and covered herself with it, before getting out of the tub and marching out of the bathing room, back to the bedroom

“Oh, by the Mother!” she gasped, seeing as Azriel stood in the middle of the room, his torso bare, wearing only a pair of dry soft britches, which males often wore at home here

If she were but a few minutes earlier, she might have seen him...nude

This time, her cheeks were aflame for a different reason. He looked so comfortable like that, so at peace. Seeing him barefoot felt strangely intimate. Which was an odd thought, because she must have lost her mind, coming out here like that, only wrapped in a cloth, naked underneath

He cocked his brow at her and stared at her in confusion. “Is everything alright?” he asked at last, and she did not miss his beautiful hazel eyes skimming over her form, briefly stopping on breasts, and then her soft pale bare thighs

“I...” she was here, and, by golly, she was going to do for it, “I...”

“What?”

“I want the shower!” she blurted out. “It doesn’t work. I want to try the shower,” she repeated, feeling itchy, hot and cold all at once

He smirked and nodded, as if this was a perfectly normal situation, and then beckoned her to follow him into the bathing room. He showed her the knobs that she had poked before, and turned them, explaining ‘hot, cold. You can adjust it to the temperature you want.”

“Thank you, Azriel,” she whispered when he smiled at her and her impatience

“You are welcome, Elain.”

It was bliss. This shower. Once he left her alone, she stepped under the pouring water and it was so hot, so wonderful, so sublime. For an Illyrian warrior, Azriel had an enviable number of products that lined the shelves of the bath enclosure. Lotions, soaps, shampoos, scrubs...All sorts of things which she ‘borrowed’ liberally. And as she lathered her body with something that smelled divine of cedar, she thought that she’d be smelling like Azriel

And closing her eyes, she thought of his body, the firm, stacked muscles of his abdomen, the wide span of his shoulders, the oily spill of his tattoos upon his dark golden skin, the delectable V that disappeared into his britches and pointed right at his...

She showered for a good 40 minutes and even then, turned it off reluctantly. What she wouldn’t give to have this at home! 

Home

Whatever that was nowadays. A place in her sister’s home. A set of rooms

The tunic was soft, well-worn, smelling of the same cedar fragrance, which made Elain pull the air deep into her lungs. It was big on her, obviously, and yet, when she came out of the bathing room, she never felt more exposed

The hazel eyes dropped to her bare milky thighs again

“Warmed up?” he asked, watching her, that hungry, warm gaze sliding up and down her body shamelessly

Azriel looked at peace, long legs stretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles, while his wings stretched behind him, looming imposingly over them

By the Cauldron! He was big.

Such large wings

Big

“Yes, thank you,” she tugged on the hem of the tunic, watching him lounge in a large armchair, papers scattered at his feet. “It was amazing!”

“You look good in my clothes,” he noted absently, his eyes devouring her, her long hair, her bare legs

“I...what?”

“What? he shrugged and then waved his hand and at once, her hair dried. The water just...evaporated

She gasped in awe and squeezed the ends instinctively, only now noticing the the puddles on the floor were also gone

“You can do this?” she demanded

“I can do all kinds of things,” he smirked

“But then...you could’ve just dried me up,” he told him, crossing her arms on her chest, glaring at him

“I could’ve,” he agreed, not looking put off in the least, “but then, you wouldn’t have discovered the joys of a shower. And you wouldn’t have been wearing my tunic right now”

She didn’t have an answer for that, other than her heated cheeks

Wordlessly, she looked around the room, the mantle of the fireplace bare. She rounded the bed, feeling his gaze upon her at all times, like he couldn’t get enough of her

She finally stopped and looked at the bedside table.

A glass vial. A little packet. A ribbon. A dried flower. And a sketch. 

The headache powder that she had gifted him two Solstices ago. The little pouch that contained the ear plugs that she gave him last Solstice. When everything happened. A ribbon. For her hair. Her ribbon. A dried rose which she had stuck into his lapel last Summer Solstice, when he’d won a pie eating contest. And a sketch--of her face.  A framed one, done in pencil. Not a very good sketch, but the likeness was undeniable

She turned around and looked at him. His eyes were still on her. Observing. Seeing. Watching everything she was seeing. 

She questioned him with her eyes. This small, private shrine of his, dedicated to her. Tiny tokens of love and affection. That’s all this man had. That’s all he valued. Her. 

“Home is where I am with you”.

[froggyfics]

For Your Pleasure - 1

The invaders arrive.

Y'all...this series is wild.

18+ only! I do not consent for this content to be viewed by minors. Please take heed of the warnings listed, though they are not entirely comprehensive. Do not continue reading if you are uncomfortable with the content. This story and its contents are 100% fictional, and are not affiliated with Marvel Comics.

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Pairing: viking!dark! Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Warnings: violence, bloodshed, nonconsensual touching

Word Count: 1,351

You never thought you could see so much blood. If it were not for the rain, it would have settled into your pores and stained you. However, you knew that whether it was raining or not, you would be changed. The blood could be washed out, but your mind was forever scarred.

Njal’s head remains in the water. The open wound on his neck still spills blood into the water, tainting it pink. 

You want to look away from the horror of seeing his dead body, but at the same time you don’t want to. Looking away would be a disservice to Njal. You want to remember. Remembering meant that you were alive. And being alive meant that you could curse him and his band of murderers. 

Your jaw clenches in anger when he steps directly on Njal’s head to cross the stream. The sound of his foot colliding with the back of Njal’s head reverberates in the air. 

“Hush now, Frida.” You hug her sideways, and rub her arm comfortingly. She continues to shake violently due to the fright and cold. The heat generated by rubbing your hand against her arm is pointless, but you can’t stop. You must do something – anything – even if it’s meaningless to distract you from the chaos. 

He stomps on the puddle directly in front of you and Frida. The mud splatters on the hem of your dress. Frida’s whimpers only increase in volume, but you hold her steady. As long as you look down, as long as you remain silent, perhaps he will spare you. 

The fear overcomes Frida. She yanks herself out of your grasp and desperately attempts to run. Her feet lodge in the mud several times, which exasperates how pathetic she looks trying to escape.

“Frida, no!” you call out. 

It’s already too late. You watch in horror as he reaches behind his back to grab an arrow from his quiver. He aligns the arrow on his arrow rest and the nocking point. He pulls the white string back and the arrow swooshes through the air.

You look away, defeated. You’re not as brave as you thought you were. Her scream pierces your eardrums.

You are the one now violently shaking. Except, no one is here to comfort, or at least try to comfort you. You’re not sure where your family is. You all split up the moment they landed on your shores. They may be dead or they be alive. Regardless, they aren’t coming to save you. 

“They always run,” he sighs. “Pointless, truly.”

You say nothing. You’re not even sure if he’s speaking to you or to someone else. 

He grabs your chin roughly to look at him. It hurts. You feel as though your jaw will break in his metal arm. 

“Will you run?”

You shake your head immediately. 

He smiles at you, but it frightens you even further. His white teeth are covered with blood. You’re not sure if it’s his own or…

You’ve heard of the Jarl of Brooklyn before. His violent reputation crossed continents and seas. But Brooklyn always seemed so far away. Even when a nearby village was pillaged by him a few months past, it never occurred to you that he would come here, to your humble settlement.

“I have grains,” you offer. “They’re – they’re stored on my property.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, do you now?”

“Yes!” you breathe a sigh of relief. He sounds entranced by your offer. Maybe if you willingly appease him, he’ll let you live. He’ll let your family live. “I can take you to my home. Please.”

He looks you over and you almost are embarrassed by the way you look until you remind yourself of the circumstances. 

“Alright, take me to your home.” He’s still smiling. You’re sure that you’ll have nightmare of his face for the rest of your days.

You trudge through the thick mud, slipping every so often, only to be held up by his hand around your neck. Though it may seem like you’re guiding him, he’s the one in control of the situation. His hand rests on the back of your neck, reminding you every step home that there is truly no escaping him.

You recognize the fallen villagers. Every single one that you pass. Njal was your neighbor, always helping your father during harvest season. Hilda made the most beautiful, beaded jewelry for you and your sister at a discount. Gertrud taught you to swim. 

And Frida was…a child. A stupid, rambunctious, annoying one. You were always irritated at her presence – her high energy conflicted with yours. She always wanted to follow you around the village like a thorn in your side. Now more than ever, you want to hear her ramblings in your ear. You wish she was right next to you, bothering you, asking you question after question. If only you knew to be grateful that pesky Frida was the worst of your troubles.

As you approach your home with your warden right behind you, you encounter several more intruders. You can’t help but scowl as they pillage your neighbors’ homes and grope the women without shame. You pass by Helga and Leif’s home. Even though the door is closed, you can hear Helga’s screams. There’s nothing you can do.

You guide the strange man to your family’s home, opening the wooden door shakily. 

“There,” you point at the barrels near the hearth, but the man is not listening to you. 

You catch him observing every part of your house. Dread fills your body as it becomes clear that the man wants more than just grains.

“Please, just take the grains. We have nothing left to offer you.” 

It’s a lie. You have several pounds of dried meat in the smokehouse, and barrels full of milk and skyr are hidden underneath the table benches. But offering the man your family’s grain supply will certainly lead to a hungry winter, so you do your best to keep up the rouse.

His frightening eyes meet yours, and his face stretches to a bloody smile. 

“I’m sure you have more to offer than some grains.”

Were you that bad of a liar? You gulp as you wrack your brain to figure out a solution that won’t leave your family destitute for the winter.

“Berries. Fresh ones. We’ve just picked lingonberries and strawberries.” You walk to a barrel next the grains. “Right here.” You pat the barrel filled with berries. 

“I’m sure you have more to offer than some berries.”

The blue-eyed man stands an arm’s length away, but inches towards you.

You step backwards to avoid his grasp. “Skyr!” you gasp when his arm nearly grabs your own. “We have skyr as well.”

“I’m sure you have more to offer than some skyr.”

Goodness, this man intends to starve your family!

“Please, this is all that we have!”

You continue walking backwards, circling the hearth while he follows you. Every two steps you take is equivalent to one of his. You pick up your pace and so does he.

As if you didn’t learn a lesson from Frida, you attempt to run yourself. Your feet jump and you change the direction of your body in midair towards the closed door. The moment you land on your feet he plants his foot in between your legs. 

You land on the ground with a thud. The air is knocked out of your body, but there’s no time to catch your breath. He flips you onto your back and sits on your stomach. He unsheathes his knife from his waist. The blade is dark red, the blood upon it has already dried. He lowers the tip of it to your clavicle and sharply moves downward. The cold air nips your newly exposed chest.

His weight makes it difficult for you to take a deep breath in, so you can barely him through your gasping when he starts to speak.

“I’m sure you have more to offer,” he says, all while smiling with blood in teeth, mud in his hair, and sadism in his eyes.