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dollfacefantasy · 1 year ago

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And If the Sun Comes Up

pairing: vampire!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon knows that you and him are meant to be. if the only way to show you that is to sneak in during the night, then that's just what he'll have to do.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, somnophilia, non-con, biting, blood, reader is tied up, spitting in mouth, overstimulation

word count: 4k

a/n: hey everyone. when he fucks u so good, u think u love him, am i right? i wanted to get one more done for halloween and i'm kinda late, but it's still halloween here so idgaf. i hope everyone enjoys. also i'm trying a new style with the header image so yeah. as always i really appreciate reblogs and comments <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz

i made a playlist of songs i listened to while writing here.

It’s the middle of the night with moonlight shining down through the slits in your blinds. You’re sleeping off a stressful week tonight. You lay between your soft blankets with your head resting on your cool pillow. You had been in a peaceful, dreamless slumber, but now whimpers erupted from your unconscious form as you felt a persistent sensation between your legs.

You still aren’t fully awake. Your eyes briefly flutter, and your hips shift, trying to alleviate the disturbance that was disrupting your rest. A long whine escapes your throat as cold hands wrap around the tops of your thighs and keep you in position.

You gasp softly as your mind struggles to differentiate dream from reality. When you try to close your legs, you’re met with resistance. You start to come to as your limbs tug more forcefully on whatever was keeping them spread. You could vaguely feel the sensation of restraints around your ankles. It’s difficult to see in the darkness of your bedroom, but you can hear something unfamiliar. Soft grunts and groans emanate from the bottom of your bed.

You weakly lift your head to figure out what was happening. Your eyes were still sleepy, and your mind was still fogged from returning to lucidity, but you could still recognize the sensation of someone lapping at your cunt like it was their final meal.

Looking down between your thighs, you see a mop of blonde hair. At first, the sight brings you mere confusion. It didn’t make sense, and you struggled to process it. But as the gears in your brain began sliding into place, terror coursed through your veins.

A strangled cry leaves your lips, and you thrash harder to get away. You realize your arms are bound too, connected together by your wrists that were secured at the level of your navel. The adrenaline in your system makes you much more alert. You could now see the long, toned body of this stranger. He wore tight, black clothing that allowed you to see his definition. His strength was obvious from that alone if you couldn’t already feel it from how he held you in place so easily.

Once he notices you’re awake, his head pops up. Your eyes widen as they connect with his piercing irises through the dark. Fear moves through you in sickening waves. Every cell in your body yearns for him to just get away.

“Shhh, sweet one. It’s alright,” he whispers. He rubs his fingertips on your inner thigh in an attempt to soothe you. His voice is husky yet familiar, and his eyes are glazed over with arousal. From what it looked like, he had been doing this for a while.

You don’t stop squirming. Your heart pounds so erratically that it feels like at any moment you’ll go into cardiac arrest. As your breathing picks up and becomes shallow, your cries become breathless.

His brows furrow momentarily at your response, but then his expression softens. You felt like you recognized him, but you couldn’t be sure.

“My darling, there’s no reason to be afraid,” he says and presses a few small kisses to your thigh, “Calm yourself. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You’re still so freaked out by the fact that this is even happening that your brain fails to formulate a response. You stare at him in horror as your squirming becomes weaker and your muscles begin to freeze out of fright.

“Good girl,” he whispers and caresses your hip, “This is for your pleasure, angel. Just relax. I know I may have startled you, but there’s no need to carry on.”

He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your clit causing you to softly yelp in both protest and pleasure. He chuckles and pulls his face back. His thumb begins lazily swiping through your folds, up and down. As soon as he cracks that smile, you’re able to place him.

“Leon?” you ask, your voice still raspy from sleep. Your drowsy mind couldn’t figure out why the man you’d seen only in passing at your job as a waitress was eating you out in your bedroom in the dead of night.

“Yes, beloved?” he answers, looking up at you with genuine curiosity as if nothing was off.

Now that you know the identity of your mysterious trespasser, your fear fades, and anger takes its place.

“Leon, what the fuck? What are you doing? And what are you doing here?” you say, your voice wavering. You try to stay focused and not let yourself be distracted by his thumb sliding around your slick. He doesn’t seem too fazed by your reaction.

“What does it look like I’m doing, pretty baby?” he whispers, “Making you feel good. You had a hard week, little doll. Let me make it better. Then I’ll explain.”

With that, he returns his head to the junction of your thighs. He parts his lips and begins making out with your pussy. Your eyes widen at his words, but the feeling of his tongue on your most intimate spot pushes your protests back down your esophagus. Instead, you whimper and take your lip between your teeth.

Erotic, wet noises from his lips and tongue working on your cunt spill out into the bedroom. Your cheeks heat with the shame of how good it felt, but there was really nothing you could do but take it. His tongue circles and laves at your clit with intense dedication before gliding down and fucking into your dripping hole.

His fingertips trace soothing circles onto the soft skin of your thighs while his mouth continues working you to the edge. He starts grunting again like he had been doing when you were sleeping. From the sounds alone, it seemed like he was getting as much pleasure from this as you. His breathing was heavy. You could feel it fanning across your pelvis.

You whine, your physical resistance dying down as release gets closer. You can feel his smug grin against your skin.

“L-Leon…” you stammer out through moans.

“Hush, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Let it feel good. Your body knows it’s right. It knows what you need.”

He flicks his tongue on your swollen bud a few more times before you come undone. You jerk and spasm against the restraints on your wrists and ankles. Broken whimpers fall from your lips as your head fogs with the euphoria of release.

He watches from below with wonder. “There you go, pretty girl,” he breathes while thumbing your clit, “Give it all to me. You don’t need to worry about anything else.”

You ride out your release on his tongue. When you finish up, you look down at him with half-lidded eyes. He continues to gaze up at you with a look of love, his pupils dilated and his chin covered with your arousal.

“Leon. Explain,” you say, trying to sound firm, but your voice was hazy from your release.

“Why so many questions, little one? Did that not feel good?” he asks, “Did that not feel like everything you needed?”

“Leon. What are you doing in my house at three in the fucking morning… touching me like that?” you say, your voice picking up some of the intensity you initially intended.

He sighs and shakes his head, but still sports that smug smile. “You’ll see in time, my love. I know you’ll feel it too,” he says.

My love. Those two words struck you like an itch you couldn’t scratch. All these weird pet names. You barely knew him. He was always nice to you, but in a cordial kind of way, remembering your name and little things you’d told him about your day when you gave him his order. You weren’t even friends. You definitely didn’t consider yourself to be his love.

“Feel what? What are you talking about? You sound crazy,” you say.

“You’re my mate, sweet one,” he responds. He looks at you as if it’s a fact and speaks as if this was the most normal conversation, like you weren’t tied up and nude from the waist down.

You blink at him in disbelief. The words ring through your mind.

“Your mate?” you repeat incredulously, the only response you could think of.

“My mate,” he confirms, “I know you can’t understand it now. But you will. I’ll-”

“I barely know you!” you raise your voice, “Just cause I smile at you and can remember your order that doesn’t mean I want to fuck you! And it sure as Hell doesn’t mean we’re mates.”

He remains calm as he continues to speak. “You may not know me, but I know you, sweetheart. I love you, but you aren’t the most observant. I’ve been watching, and I know we’re meant to be. I know it’s right for you.”

The thought of him watching you while you went about your life, clueless as ever, disturbed you to the pit of your stomach, but you tried not to let that show.

“Oh my God, you’re delusional. Fucking delusional. You think we’re soulmates? Like what? Like we’re written in the stars or something?” you mock.

“No, darling. Not written in the stars. It’s written in our DNA, something tying us together. I can sense it. You have the sweetest smelling blood I’ve ever come across.”

Your eyes widen at his explanation.

“What… What are you talking about? You can’t smell my blood, Leon,” you say.

“If only I couldn’t, maybe then I wouldn’t have to do this,” he says, his voice growing more hushed, “But I can. You have to understand, little love. I’m not a man of normal appetites.”

The way he spoke freaked you out. Various horrific ideas ran through your head about what he meant by unusual appetites. Your anger was slowly exiting, and your fear was seeping back in. Your limbs tremble as you try again to pull yourself out of your bindings.

“Sweetheart, all throwing a tantrum will do is tire you out,” he chides, "And while it’s not required, I would prefer if you were conscious to see how good I can make you feel.”

“You’re fucking insane!” you exclaim with a shaky voice, tears of terror pricking at your eyes, “I don’t know what gave you this sick fantasy that we’re true love and meant to be or whatever. But that’s all it is. Leon, I-”

“Enough,” he says, his voice dropping to a more commanding tone, “If you’re not willing to understand, I’ll just have to make you more agreeable.”

With that, his mouth returns to your cunt. He sucks your clit between his lips and flicks his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. One hand holds your thigh like it was before while the other comes between your legs and prods at your entrance.

You’re whimpering in no time, still being tender from your previous release. Your hips squirm and writhe as he pumps two fingers in and out of you.

“Quit moving,” he growls and tightens his grip on your thigh.

The gravelly harsh tone lights the pool of arousal in your belly like a match falling into gasoline. You clamp around his fingers and mewl softly. A sharp exhale leaves his nose and smirks.

“Good baby, deep down you know you want this. You’ve only had my fingers so far, and she already knows to get nice and tight for me,” he breathes before returning his attention to your pussy.

His fingers continue working you open, scissoring inside your hole as they move back and forth. The whole time he relentlessly plays with your clit, flicking, sucking, circling. Short, strained cries come from you as your back arches off the bed.

“There we go, pretty baby. Cum again for me,” he purrs, “I doubt you’ve been with a guy who could make you cum even once.”

You didn’t even fully register his words because you were so wrapped up in the throes of ecstasy. Your body convulses as release washes over you again. You shiver in waves, whining and babbling as he continues pleasuring you through the high.

As you come down, he doesn’t ease up on you. His fingers tease you a bit before applying enough pressure to overstimulate you. He adds a third finger into you and continues maneuvering them skillfully, hitting all the right spots.

His mouth doesn’t stop either. He spits onto your pussy and dives back in, licking up your slick and flattening his tongue to massage you into bliss.

He brings you at least two more peaks, eating you out until your mind is nearly melted and you’re a whining, drooling, nonsensical mess.

When he finally feels that you’ve had enough, he moves up, coming face to face with you in a blur. You flinch at the quick movement, and draw a chuckle from him. His hand wraps around your throat while his eyes give you a predatory scan. He lowers his head to the crook of your neck and inhales deep.

“Smells like cherries,” he mutters before laying a few soft kisses up your neck and behind your ear.

You shiver at the gentle contact and a quiet whine escapes you. Your nipples are hard beneath your top from the countless highs he brought you and the fluttering of his lips against your skin. It’s not long before his other hand is sliding up your body to squeeze and fondle your breasts, his thumb teasingly swiping across the hardened buds a few times.

“I don’t need you to understand this, my love. I don’t expect you to. It’s a little out of your depth anyways,” he whispers and nips at your earlobe, “What I expect is for you to take it like a good girl and let me show you what you need. I think you can already see that you’ll be begging for more by the end of the night whether you understand it or not.”

Your thoughts are too muddled to formulate an actual response. Instead, you just watch him with your blissed out stare. He leans back and pulls off his shirt, exposing his muscular torso and chest to you. The moonlight coming through the blinds illuminates him just enough for you to feel more desire building in your abdomen. He smiles at your impressed reaction, and that’s when you see it.

He has fangs.

It’s only a glimpse, but you would swear on your life that it was the truth. His canines are clearly sharper than normal, it can’t be your imagination. And with all his talk about blood… You felt like you were losing it. There was no way he made you cum so hard that you’d believe in vampires.

“What is it, precious?” he asks softly as he undoes his belt and starts lowering his pants. His tone projects innocence, but the look on his face makes you think he knows exactly what you’re fixated on.

“Nothing, I- I- it’s-” you stutter. Your jaw almost drops as his hard cock springs free from his boxers. It was long and thick and you weren’t even sure that it would fit.

He climbs on top of you again, his strong, thick arms boxing you in on your bed.

“What’s the matter? Like what you see? Or is it that you don’t think I have a pretty smile?” he asks, flashing his teeth again. The fangs are in clear view now. Their existence is undeniable.

He can hear your heartbeat speeding up and your breathing getting shallow. It brings him a twisted sense of pleasure that he doesn’t dwell on. He lazily strokes himself in preparation to enter you.

“What are you? You… you can’t be…” you say, your voice dropping to nearly a whisper.

“A vampire?” he asks, “That’s probably the term easiest for you to understand, so yes, my little doll. I am a vampire.”

Your eyes widen. Your fearful gaze locks onto him.

“It’s not like a movie, baby. I can eat garlic and clearly I don’t need to be invited into your house,” he explains, almost as if he’s trying to lighten the mood, “But I have a bloodlust.”

You’re stunned. This couldn’t be real. “So what? I’m like your personal blood bank or something? Is that what being your mate is?”

“No,” he scoffs, “Being my mate is what it sounds like, angel. In all my years, I’ve never met another who makes me feel like you do. You’re my love, the light in the darkness I’ve been existing in. My personal heaven and hell wrapped into one perfect vessel.”

Your head is spinning with everything you’re hearing. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips before leaning back onto his knees and positioning himself at your entrance. He stares at you with his eyes, glossed over with lust. He reaches for your confined hands and brings them to his lips.

“It will all make sense soon, darling,” he says, “Soon enough we’ll be together in this.”

He takes one of your fingers into his mouth, keeping eye contact with you the entire time. One of his fangs presses into the pad of your finger, and draws a small drop of blood. You wince at the pain, but you’re quickly distracted by the guttural groan Leon emits as he smooths his tongue against the warm liquid.

He pushes inside you and tilts his head back. Your finger slips out of his mouth and smears some blood on his lips.

“Tastes so fucking sweet too, Christ,” he grunts as he begins thrusting.

Despite the circumstances, he felt good. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say it was the best you ever had. He filled you up perfectly. A string of whines and whimpers expel from your mouth into a long moan.

“That’s right. You know it’s perfect,” he mutters, “Soon, it will be just me and you. For all of eternity. No one else. The entire world could burn, and you and I could fuck on top of the ashes.”

Your own head falls back, and he sucks your finger back into his mouth to taste more of your blood. He moans around your digit, his hips beginning to piston with more intensity. His hands lock onto your hips, so he has a firm grip to slam into you with.

You felt a mix of shame and fear, but you started to believe him. You felt something inside you that told you this was right. This was what you longed for. What you needed.

He starts leaning over you more. He had to see you, had to see your mind changing about him, the look in your eyes shifting from fear to lust. One of his hands rises to hold your jaw and direct you to look at him.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, eyes boring into you.

You do it with no hesitation. Your lips part and your tongue lolls out obediently. He smirks, still rolling his hips as he slowly spits into your open mouth. His saliva leaks from his lips, lands on your tongue, and starts sliding to your throat. The feeling combined with that look in his eyes almost made you cum on its own.

He feels the same. Watching your pretty eyes become unfocused as you accept what’s happening had him digging his fingers into the flesh of your cheeks in order to hold on. Once he felt you had enough he pats your cheek.

“Swallow,” he grunts and reverts his primary focus to fucking you into the mattress.

And you do this too. You swallow it all. A garbled moan erupts from you afterwards, and your eyes roll back as he strokes all the sweet spots inside of you.

“Good girl,” he coos with a low tone, “Taking it perfectly. Just like you’re meant to do.”

You lift your arms and loop your bound wrists over his head to pull him closer. He follows your guidance, but his face looks almost pained. He keeps his face further than you want. You whimper and try to pull him down to the crook of your neck more.

“Sweet baby, you have to be careful. I can’t… I have to make sure you’re safe my love. I don’t know if I can control myself if I’m that close,” he breathes.

“What? Control how?” you babble, still not really focused because of how his cock is battering your insides at the moment.

“Your blood, baby. It’s too strong. I won’t be able to hold back. I could hurt you,” he says.

That almost snaps you back to reality for a moment. “Like what? You wanna bite me?” you ask with a curious expression.

For a change, this time he has no words. He nods, still maintaining eye contact.

It wasn’t your smartest moment, but you don’t hesitate as the words leave you.

“Do it.”

His eyes flash with a look you can’t read in your state.

“Sweetheart, I… I want to, but it’s not safe,” he whispers, but you can hear the desire in his voice.

“If we’re really mates then you should be able to stop yourself. Prove it to me. Prove that I’m yours and you’re mine,” you say, your voice taking on a whiny quality from how close you were getting.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist when you were asking for it like this. He slowly lowers himself to be level with your neck. His thrusts become slower but deeper. He takes another deep breath of that scent before baring his teeth and sinking them into your flesh.

You gasp and pull your arms around him as you feel the punctures. At first it hurts, but then he begins to softly suck, coaxing your blood into his mouth. You both let out simultaneous moans. His eyes flutter now and his grip on your hips tighten.

He’s getting lost in his own world of euphoria now as he feeds off of you, gulping down that sweet, hot liquid. You tremble as pleasure courses through you too. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. It was light and airy while being grounding and all consuming. You couldn’t hold on for any longer.

He growls as you cum, the feeling of your cunt latching onto him is almost too much. He manages to hold it together for a handful more thrusts. His breathing is rough as he cums and his thrusts are sporadic. You feel his muscles tensing as he groans into your neck. He spills rope after rope of cum into you.

When you’re both done, both of your bodies are trembling. Your sweaty skin is pressed to his which is still ice cold. He goes limp on top of you, breathing deep as he comes down from the high. You could feel blood trickling down your neck as his mouth disconnects from your throat.

You didn’t know what to say. The fog of lust was clearing and while you didn’t regret your decisions, this was still weird. You remove your arms from him, and he takes that as a signal to pull out and roll off of you.

He pushes his disheveled hair out of his face and gives you a crooked smile. His mouth was still red with your blood. He reaches over and starts untying the restraints around your hands. You watch him quietly.

“So you said soon… we’ll be in this together?” you ask awkwardly.

He lets out a short laugh as he gets the bindings off and drops them to the side. He runs his fingers through your hair and kisses your forehead before getting out of your bed.

“Soon, sweet one, I’ll change you to be like me. A vampire,” he says, using a teasing tone for the last word, “But not yet. I know you’re not ready, and my goal isn’t to scare you. I truly love you.”

You just nod because you honestly didn’t know what to say to that. Even if you felt something for him, you wouldn’t say it was love. Yet.

You watch him put on his clothes as you reach down to start untying your ankles.

“So… you’re just leaving?” you say, almost sounding disappointed.

“Yes but don’t be too sad, my love. You’ll see me as soon as the sun sets again tonight,” he says.

He finishes putting on his clothes and leans in to give you one more passionate kiss before he leaves. You could still taste your blood on him.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #smut #ch: leon kennedy 💌

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vsvillain · 1 year ago

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✩ anything for you — m.sk

pairing. sakura (le sserafim) x fem reader

summary. sakura has always been good at hiding her feelings, meaning you have absolutely no idea that she's been pathetically in love with you since high school, and she intends for it to stay that way. but it's getting harder and harder to hide how she feels, especially since you started living in her house.

info. non idol au, best friends to lovers, businesswoman sakura, down bad pining, like 1 random mention of yunjin at the end 👍 overall disgusting fluff ew

warnings. swearing, reader was stuck in a toxic relationship with a Man (not described in detail), brief mentions of overworking

word count. 2.4k

(a/n) this is the grossest fluffiest thing i have ever written so far . i need to write about car chases next

you wake up alone in a bed that isn't yours, pale morning sunlight shining softly through the curtains in an unfamiliar room, and it takes you a second to figure out where the hell you are before the memories of the previous night come crashing back down.

"ugh," you grumble, rolling around and pressing your face into the pillow. sakura's pillow. her expensive perfume lingers faintly, and you breathe in the familiar scent a few times to ground you before rolling out of bed and dragging yourself up to your feet. the thought of sleeping in longer is tempting, but you refuse to let yourself wallow for too long over your now ex-boyfriend—you're the one who ended it with him last night, after all. you don't want to waste any more time thinking about him.

after getting cleaned up in sakura's bathroom (she left out an extra toothbrush and towel for you, and you have to smile at her thoughtfulness) and putting on one of her sweaters, you pad down the hall and poke your head into her office. "kkura?"

your best friend glances up from her desk, face softening when she sees you. "good morning," she says with an affectionate smile, standing up and letting you wrap her in a hug. "did you sleep well?"

"yep. you?" you notice how she's holding herself more stiffly than usual, and you frown at her when you pull away. "i told you not to sleep on the couch! you should've just shared the bed with me."

sakura laughs self-consciously, blushing and looking away. "you were tired, i didn't want to make you uncomfortable." she takes another look at you, and her eyes light up. "is that my sweater?"

"huh? oh, yeah." you pull the sleeves over your hands and playfully flap them in her face. "why, do you want it back?"

"you look cute in it, so i suppose i can excuse the blatant thievery," sakura responds, the words leaving her mouth before she can even think about it. get a grip, she thinks frantically, hoping that her stupid infatuation with you isn't showing on her face. "anyway. um, do you want breakfast? i left a plate for you downstairs."

"you're so sweet." you lean in and kiss her on the cheek, unaware of the way it makes her heart jump. "did you already eat?"

"i did, i got up a few hours ago." sakura nods back towards her computer. "lots of paperwork to go through, so…"

"hey, what did i tell you about working too hard on weekends?" you try to look stern, poking a finger in her face. "i'm forcing you to take more breaks from now on, you're going to regret letting me stay with you."

sakura just laughs, leaning back. "i could never regret it," she says fondly, and immediately regrets saying that when your face lights up with an insufferably smug smirk. "i mean—"

"awww," you coo, throwing your arms around her and pressing an obnoxiously loud smooch on her cheek. "you are totally obsessed with me."

"i am not—" sakura flushes, trying to hold back an embarrassed smile as she struggles halfheartedly against your grip. "go eat the breakfast i made for you before it gets cold, you idiot."

you laugh and let her go, prancing out of her office and downstairs to the kitchen—all the while blissfully oblivious to how painfully fast sakura's heart is pounding.

she falls back into her office chair, putting her hands on her chest and sighing like a lovesick schoolgirl. i am so pathetic.

later that night, after a takeout dinner, you manage somehow to drag sakura out of her office for a much-needed break. the two of you are wandering around in a quiet park, and the cool autumn night air makes you shiver a little.

sakura glances over at you, noticing you shivering. "are you cold?" her tone turns scolding, and she nudges your arm. "i told you to bring a jacket."

"c-cold? of course not," you chatter unconvincingly. there's no way you're going to admit you're cold and face the full brunt of her "i-told-you-so" look. "i'm n-not cold at all."

sakura sighs. "oh, come here." she takes off her leather jacket and drapes it around you before you can even begin to protest, mumbling to herself in exasperation as she focuses on bundling you up. "hmph, you never listen to me… one of these days you're going to freeze to death, i swear. i don't know why i even try…"

you have to smile at the cute frown on her face as she frets over you. when she steps back, satisfied with her work, you give her a little kiss on the cheek. "thank you, kkura. you know you're really cute when you get all fussy like that?"

her face is extremely red when you pull away. "no i'm not."

"yes you are—" you gasp, delighted. "are you blushing?"

"no!" she squeaks, turning her face in the other direction. "that's just—the cold!"

"oh please, it's not that cold." you press closer to her side with a smirk. "you're blushing because of me."

"clearly it's cold enough to make you shiver like a chihuahua," sakura insists, still blushing. that was a friendly kiss, she convinces herself. she's my friend. we're being… friendly.

right, because wanting to grab you and kiss the stupid smirk off your face is definitely a 100% friendly urge.

"whatever you say." you sigh dramatically, breaking her out of her not-so-friendly thoughts. "hey, let's head back. it's getting late."

"alright," says sakura, relieved. she doesn't know how much more of your teasing she can handle until she melts into a puddle on the ground. "do you still feel cold?"

"no, your jacket is really warm. but…" you take her hand as you start walking home, tucking it into your pocket and interlacing your fingers. "i wouldn't want you to get cold without it~"

sakura's blush returns full-force, but thankfully you spare her from further teasing. a comfortable silence settles over the two of you as you continue walking home, and you realize, not for the first time, how happy you feel with her. you never felt this way with your ex-boyfriend, not even once… in fact, just thinking about the way he treated you makes you frown.

"you're quiet." sakura gently squeezes your hand. "what are you thinking about?"

you shrug. "i don't know, just… happy that i'm not with him anymore, i guess."

"he never deserved you," says sakura, squeezing your hand again and smiling softly when you look at her. it's a far cry from her usual expressionless businesswoman face, and you take satisfaction in knowing you're one of the few people with the privilege of seeing her smile like this.

"you deserve nice things, you know?" she continues as you walk along the sidewalk. "things that make you happy."

it just slips out. "you make me happy."

sakura blushes, caught off-guard. "w-well, you have me," she says, a little awkwardly as she tries to sound lighthearted. "you've always had me…"

you beam at her, unaware of the longing undertones in her voice. "i know."

"you're so pretty when you smile," sakura mumbles, almost to herself—but you hear it.

"what was that?" your smile turns into a smirk, seizing the opportunity to tease her a little more. "you think i'm pretty?"

sakura just looks at you, which wasn't the reaction you were expecting, and says without any hesitation, "yes."

"oh." suddenly it feels like you're dying. all the heat in your body rushes directly to your face so quickly that you feel lightheaded. you clear your throat, floundering for words. oh my god, am i dying? "hm. that's—mm."

sakura glances at you curiously, but thankfully doesn't say anything. the rest of the walk home—you've already started thinking of sakura's place as home—is spent more or less in silence, and you're left feeling like something has shifted in your relationship without you knowing exactly what it is.

the days pass, and you manage to get rid of any lingering feelings you still have for your ex. work starts back up, and your life almost completely returns to normal.

except you're still living with sakura. she never says anything about it, and neither do you. clearly she doesn't mind having you here. you think she's secretly grateful for the company, since she's so used to being alone in her big empty house all the time.

every time you sit down to start looking up places to move, sakura calls for you to come taste-test something she made, or to get your opinion on a new suit she got, and you tell yourself you'll just keep looking later. then you proceed to forget all about it until the cycle starts again.

one morning, you wake up in sakura's guest room—your room, now—and squint against the bright morning sunshine coming in through the windows. you and sakura had stayed up late watching movies and playing video games the previous night, and you vaguely recall her having to half-drag, half-carry your sleepy self upstairs and tuck you in.

you start to sit up, but you're immediately pulled back onto the bed with a surprised "oof". you look down to see an arm wrapped securely around your waist, and you glance behind you in confusion to find sakura sound asleep while snuggled against your back.

you cover your face in embarrassment as the rest of the memory returns to you. stay with me, you had implored her while latched onto her side like a koala. somehow your positions had reversed while you slept, and now she shows no signs of letting go.

"kkura?" you whisper, taking her hand and giving it a soft squeeze.

"mm," sakura mumbles, eyes still shut. and suddenly you're extremely glad that you're turned away from her, because the realization must be showing all over your face.

you… are in love with her.

it's such a sudden thought that it actually makes you say "what the fuck" out loud, and she stirs from behind you. "hm…?"

"n-nothing!" you yelp in a strained voice, heart pounding. "go back to sleep."

sakura shifts closer and lets out a cute little yawn, which does not at all help your current flustered state. "good morning… everything alright?"

"yeah, i'm fine," you say quickly, trying to think of how you can change the subject. "um, thanks for carrying me up here last night… and staying with me…"

"of course." sakura seems to notice how tense you've gotten and pulls away to sit up, much to your dismay. "no need to thank me, you know i'd do anything for you."

"oh, anything?" you roll over to face her and immediately regret it. she's smiling back at you, and something about the look on her face makes you wonder if it might be possible that… whatever you're feeling, she's feeling it too.

"yes, anything." sakura's smile is soft and unguarded, and it makes you want to do something stupid.

driven by instinct, you take her hand and pull her down to lie next to you so the two of you are face-to-face. "sakura… anything, really?" were her lips always this pretty?

sakura meets your eyes, lips parting slightly as she catches on to the implications of your question. "anything."

you're not sure who made the first move, but the next thing you know, her hands are cradling your face and you're kissing. and it's not some big explosion of feelings, like you thought it would be. if anything it feels warm and natural, like coming home after a long day.

sakura's eyes flutter open when you have to break the kiss for air. "am i still dreaming?" she mumbles, blinking at you and gently touching your cheek like she's making sure you're real.

"i love you." the words leave your mouth before you can even think, and you cover your face. "i mean—um, i like—no, wait, i—uh—i just—"

"i love you too." sakura cuts off your nervous rambling with another one of those smiles that could bring world peace, looking down shyly at your intertwined hands. "i've wanted to do that for a long time."

"we should get married," you say, because apparently you just have no filter at all this morning. "or, um. maybe we should date first."

sakura laughs, leaning in to kiss your cheek. "that sounds like a good plan to me."

"i mean, we're practically dating already." you feel like your soul is happily floating in the clouds right now, but then you sit up in alarm. "wait, don't you have to go to work now? it's already 9."

sakura shrugs, running a hand through her hair. "i called last night to tell them i'm using one of my vacation days today. i, uh…" she looks away, blushing. "i wanted to stay in with you…"

"awww, you're taking the day off for me?" you gasp dramatically, tackling her in a hug. "the most serious workaholic in the city is skipping work for me?"

sakura yelps in surprise when you knock her back into the mattress, and she sighs in exasperation as she halfheartedly struggles against your grip. "so what if i want to spend time with you," she complains, still blushing. "you know i—i love you."

you giggle and press your lips to hers in another kiss, but then something else occurs to you. "wait a second." you pull back and give her a bombastic side eye. "how long?"

sakura smiles sheepishly, knowing what you mean without you having to say it. "a long time."

"since college?"

"since high school."

you hit her in the shoulder. "sakura!"

"what?" she protests, ducking away with a laugh. "what about it?"

"you've been in love with me this whole time and you never said anything?" you scold lightly, propping yourself up on the bed and crossing your arms. "i can't believe you."

the way she's looking at you right now, her whole face practically glowing with love, makes you feel like your heart might just explode in your chest. "i'm saying it now," says sakura, sitting up as well and giving you a cheeky grin that doesn't match the fondness in her voice. "i love you."

"i love you too," you mumble, heat rushing to your cheeks. then something else occurs to you, and you grin. "hey, you haven't even taken me out on a date yet and you've already got me in your bed. who knew you had so much rizz~?"

"you need to stop hanging out with yunjin," she says, an unimpressed look on her face. "come over here and kiss me again."

"wow, so bossy…" you pretend to swoon, and then you let her pull you onto her lap so she can shut you up with a kiss.

#🧛🏻‍♀️ — robin.writes #le sserafim #le sserafim x reader #sakura x reader #sakura #miyawaki sakura #sakura imagines #miyawaki sakura x reader #female reader #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #le sserafim imagines #Wow this is all over the place 😔👍 probably because i started it LAST YEAR....

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leahsgf · 2 years ago

Note

I will get on my hands and knees for van Palmer x reader introducing their gf to the team at like a party or something

they’re gonna love you.

pairings. pre crash! van palmer x reader

when i tell you i am obsessed with this idea! van is criminally underrated and deserves so many more fics and i loved doing this, thank you so much for the req, i hope it’s what you had in mind, i got a little carried away!

a wave of unease seared through you as you adjusted your skirt, time having stood still yet raced by at the same time as you remained planted in front of the mirror. a new flaw with your look was becoming visible to you every second, like some twisted version of whack a mole. you shook your head in an attempt to prevent the inevitable tears from spilling, and your anxiety wearing you down to dust.

you had been dating van for almost seven months when the long dreaded event happened. classes were officially over for the year, and the games were all wrapped up, so there were no more excuses for you to delay meeting the team, meaning that your attendance to the upcoming party was demanded by each of them.

it wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet your girlfriend’s best friends, the whole concept was just terrifying to you. these were some of the people that mean the most to van, who grew up with her, of course wanting nothing but happiness and the absolute best for her. whilst you knew that you and van were incredibly happy, that creeping voice in the back of your mind hadn’t let up and had been getting increasingly louder as the time neared - allowing your nerves to get the better of you.

“there you are! i missed you.” van’s voice snapped your whirlwind of a mind back into reality, as she enveloped you from behind, pulling you into her embrace.

“i’ve been gone for five minutes at absolute maximum” a giggle escaped your throat as she planted a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the flush of your cheek, the amount increasing as the sound of your laughter hit her ears.

she turned you around in her arms, whilst mumbling something along the lines of “five minutes too long”. her eyes visibly softened as she studied your expression, a wave of concern washing over them. she had always been able to read you like a book, regardless of the plastered on smile.

“hey. don’t do that to yourself, they’re going to love you. god, they already do judging by the amount they ask about you. you’re everything i could ever want, and i’m not going to leave your side tonight. the second you aren’t feeling it anymore, we’ll leave. i promise.” her fingers trail up and down your arms as you nod, and let yourself relax under her touch.

you pulled her hand to your lips, placing your lips there ever so gently as you breathed out an “okay” and let her guide you out of the bathroom.

“that’s my girl.”

the cold air nipped at your shoulders as you made your way up to lottie’s front door, letting van lead the way, her hand still clasped around your own. she paused to let your eyes meet, a last minute check in before entering the cloud of noise.

jackie, shauna, lottie and taissa were the only ones out of the team there so far, huddled around the drinks table and laughing together. having known all of their names and faces for months before now, through pictures and videos from games - being stood in front of them felt so oddly familiar yet completely unfamiliar at the same time.

“guys, meet my girlfrien-“ each of them smiled and swarmed you before van could even finish her sentence. jackie pulled you into a hug like she’s known you her entire life, lottie gasped and clapped her hands together as she marvelled about how long they’ve been wanting to meet you and how nice it was to finally do it, as shauna chuckled and mouthed her apologies in your direction and tai playfully teased van for the amount she was smiling and blushing.

“so this is the famous girlfriend we’ve all been dying to meet” nat arrived shortly after shauna had pried jackie away from you to let you and van have a moment to yourselves. she introduced herself to you and spoke to both of you about anything and everything, fighting back a grin as misty bounded over to you like an excited puppy, gushing over you and your relationship, how happy she is to meet you, and how she now has a new friend.

your previous nerves were almost entirely forgotten as you fell into the mix of the group easily, like you had always been there. they filled you in with all of their embarrassing stories about van and how much she talked about you, or about the time in practice where she was so busy daydreaming about you she took a ball to the face, and how they already loved you from that moment on.

“i told you they’d love you, didn’t i?” van whispered into your ear as she finally got you alone after hours of drunken karaoke and dancing. “i’m so proud of you, baby.”

“i love you so much.”

#van palmer #van palmer x reader #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader

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blurredcolour · 1 year ago

Text

I Wish You Love | Part Five

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Lewis Nixon x Housemaid!Female Reader

You and Lewis make the most of your time together before he returns to America to do his best to free himself to spend his future at your side.

Warnings: Angst, Class Divide, Discussion of Divorce, Lots of Kissing, Sexual Tension and Innuendos, Language, Smoking, Alcohol Consumption, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: I am a lying liar who lies - there are now six parts because Lewis and his darling do not know how to leave me alone. Reader's nationality is British and liberties have been taken in describing her background and family life for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. A good portion of this fic will be letter-based. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5393

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

Returning home shortly before noon the next day, you could not help the fond shake of your head to see Lewis’s borrowed car already parked at the curb outside your flat building. The lovely, impatient man was early, of course. Early enough to see you tired, sweaty, and underdressed once again. You wanted to be annoyed with him, yet you could not find it within yourself to summon any emotion other than amused affection. Stepping into the building, you were in the process of fishing your keys from your handbag when a stunningly familiar voice carrying through the door halted your movements.

“And so that was your plan all along?”

Johnny. Your twin brother, physically absent from your life, existing only in intermittent letters, for years. Much longer than the just war, with your mutual need for employment to support your father had driven you both from home in 1934. A lot was made of some sort of intuition that was supposed to exist between twins, that as they had shared a womb, they surely shared a lot more, but his return home today was a complete shock that had you frozen in place in the hall. The next words out of his mouth did nothing to encourage you to proceed inside.

“You’ve permitted a married man to seduce your daughter, your sweet pea.” He spat, an unfamiliar ugliness in his tone. The comment was certainly directed at your father, but Lewis was undoubtedly in the room, and he confirmed your supposition as he spoke up.

“I would ask you not to insult your sister’s honor, it has been, and remains, utterly unimpeachable.”

“Bloody hell you sure speak like one of them…”

“Johnathon you will mind your tongue. I understand that you have lived differently for quite some time now, but I will not tolerate that sort of language or disrespect in this home.”

Your eyes widened as you heard your father raise his voice, something that happened so infrequently that you could count the sum total of such occasions on the fingers of your own two hands.

“I am quite satisfied,” Your father continued, “with the correspondence between Captain Nixon and his solicitor. I find his intentions for your sister, my daughter, to be completely honourable and I thoroughly encourage them. She has never been happier, Johnny, and if you cannot manage to smile for her when she comes through that door any moment now then you’d better go for a walk until you find a way to.”

Tensing at the thought of your brother angrily storming out of the flat, and right into you, you crept backwards and down the hall toward the stairs leading up to the higher floors, obscuring yourself behind the landing to wait. To see if he was indeed so against the idea of you being happy with Lewis that he would rob you of a reunion with him then. You waited nearly five minutes, which felt like an eternity, until you heard Mrs. Stokes and her herd of children leaving their flat a few stories up, tromping down the staircase towards your hiding place. Johnny had remained inside, there had been no further shouting – at least none that you could hear at this distance.

Taking a fortifying breath, you pulled your keys from your handbag and headed into the apartment, smiling softly as your father and Lewis were chatting in the sitting room. “Good afternoon you two.”

“Well look at you, sis.” Johnny spoke from the doorway to the kitchen, and it was not hard to present a face of shock, for in place of a gangly sixteen-year-old boy, there was a rugged twenty-five-year-old man standing there, grinning at you.

“Johnny!?” You gasped, dropping your handbag as you rushed forward to hug him, squealing as he hauled you off your feet, his time with the 78th Infantry having made him unspeakably strong.

“Blimey you really have gone yellow haven’t you.” He teased and you smacked him affectionately as he set you back on the ground gently. “I’ve heard it goes away after a few months, don’t get your you-know-what’s in a twist.”

“Can we please stop talking about my underclothes and talk about when you got home?” You glanced at Lewis, feeling rather embarrassed to have your knickers discussed in front of him, but he was smiling warmly, unfazed.

“This morning on the first train from London. I gather we’re going out for dinner later?”

“Absolutely, I am looking forward to taking all three of you out together.” Lewis nodded firmly and you smiled at him fondly, vaguely aware of your brother’s scrutinizing gaze upon your face in your periphery.

“We were going to go out for the afternoon, but you just got back and–”

“Go on sis, I hear he’s only in town a few days and you’ll have to put up with me for a lot longer than that. Go have fun, I’ll see you for dinner.”

Hugging him tightly once more, you then kissed Lewis’s cheek quickly before going to get changed into something suitable for a drive and a picnic before the pair of you made your way out to the car, leaving your brother and father to catch up.

“You two look nothing alike you know, I’d never have guessed that you were twins…” Lewis teased as he opened the car door for you.

“That’s what fraternal means – not identical.” You shook your head fondly, hesitating a moment, an apology for your brother’s behaviour dangling on the tip of your tongue.

“Well either way, he loves you very much and that’s all I could ask for on your behalf.” He nodded, eyes widening as you grabbed his face and kissed him soundly, your heart swelling almost painfully inside your ribcage.

His hands planted on your hips, holding tightly but letting you direct the kiss, lips parting compliantly at the tentative swipe of your tongue against his bottom lip. Losing your nerve, particularly in full view of the front window of the flat, you stopped short of sliding your tongue to his, but still felt a rush of pride tingle through you at the ruddy hue to his cheeks as you pulled back from his mouth.

“I’m not entirely certain what I did to earn that but…you’re welcome.” He grinned cockily and your jaw dropped at his impertinence before you laughed brightly, shaking your head as you slid into the car, happy to leave him wondering.

Glancing at the backseat, you raised an eyebrow curiously at the picnic basket and blankets there, wondering just what Lewis had planned for the afternoon.

“No peeking.” He smirked, sliding his arm around your waist to pull you close across the bench seat once he’d started the car, pulling his hand back to shift the car into gear.

“Might I know where we are going?” You asked curiously, resting your chin on his shoulder to look at him playfully as he headed down the lane.

“I thought I might show you where I lived while I was in England – well not the actual house, we’ve given it back to the Wills family, but the town.”

“I’d like that very much.” You nodded firmly, turning to look out the windshield as he headed out on the road out of town.

“We will have to drive past Lydiard, unless you’d like me to take the long way?” He glanced at you, and you shook your head quickly.

“No, it’s alright, I suppose I will eventually pass it at some point, I’d much rather it be with you.”

His hand squeezed your knee affectionately, fingers lingering on your bare skin when he found no interfering stockings until he was forced to employ it again in changing gears as he sped up as you left Swindon behind. You had somewhat bemoaned the difficulty related to finding stockings lately, but as his fingertips idly caressed the side of your knee, suddenly you really didn’t mind very much at all.

As the pair of you drove past the tree-lined drive leading towards Lydiard House, you swallowed to see a series of guards posted at the road, finding the sight altogether unwelcoming and eliminating any last bit of nostalgia you may have felt for the place you had called home for a decade.

“I would bet it feels an awful lot like a prison for the St Johns and the rest of the staff, too.” Lewis muttered and you nodded quickly.

“I have to say I certainly do not miss working fifteen hours a day. Free time in the evenings, it’s been quite a revelation.”

Lewis grinned at you softly, squeezing his hand that had promptly returned to your knee. “I told you that you were much better suited to this life.”

“You did, yes. Thank you.” You pressed a careful kiss to his cheek, paying closer attention to your surroundings as you neared Aldbourne, a town you’d rarely had occasion to visit previously.

Lewis took you on a small tour, pointing out the Nissen huts, or Quonsets as he called them, where the enlisted men had stayed before swinging by Littlecote House where he had been billeted. He regaled you with funny stories from training and that one time his closest friend Dick had been forced to upend his mattress to get him out of bed after a very intense night of celebration. Circling back to the centre of the village, he parked in front of a small bakery, opposite the village green.

“We just need to pick up our dessert and then we’ll be ready for lunch?”

You nodded warmly, sliding out of the car with him as he led you into the shop. It smelled positively divine inside, all sorts of sweets in the display cases.

“I’m here to pick up an order for Nixon?” Lewis smiled and the girl behind the counter looked up with wide eyes.

“Leftenant! We didn’t think we’d see any of you boys back here again.” She smiled up at him brightly, fairly batting her eyelashes at him.

“Just wanted to be sure my girl had a chance to try the best lardy cake in all of England.” He smiled smoothly, looking to you warmly.

Swallowing tightly, you could not help but notice the way the girl’s face fell as he tugged you closer.

“Anything you’d think your father and brother would like as a souvenir of our travels?”

Normally you would have refused, been stubborn and reticent in the face of his generosity, but there was something about the way the girl was throwing daggers at you as she retrieved a box with his name on it from under the counter that emboldened you.

“Perhaps a few imperial cookies?” You looked up at him hopefully and he rewarded you with a quick peck to the cheek.

“A dozen of the imperial cookies as well please.”

“Of course, leftentant.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting the impulse to correct her sharply as you felt rather territorial about that title – more precisely that pronunciation of that title. You waited quietly as she packed a box of the cookies and Lewis paid the total. You were more than a little relieved to say your goodbyes and leave the shop, baked goods in hand, and retrieve the picnic supplies from the car.

“Can I help you carry something?”

Lewis paused a moment before passing you the blankets, taking the boxes from the bakery and the rather heavy looking basket himself.

“You know I packed artillery shells for the past seven months, I am not helpless.” You teased as you followed him across the street onto the village green.

“Just because you can, darling, doesn’t mean you are expected to.” He replied with a smirk, waiting for you to unfurl the blankets on the ground before the pair of you settled in.

“So long as you remember that I am not helpless, Lewis.” You replied firmly, watching him unearth several packets of sandwiches, some fruit, and a bottle of lemonade from the basket along with glasses to drink from.

“I assure you I would never dream of considering you helpless. After all you rescued a drowning dog from a lake while wearing a full-length dress.” He grinned, popping the seal on the bottle to fill you a glass. “Climbed the highlands to procure me heather and grouse feathers, poured TNT and lifted artillery shells, served a certain honorable without murdering her for her deplorable behavior…” His tone had started off teasing but as he set the glass in your outstretched hand his face grew serious. “No darling, if anything I really quite admire you.”

Ducking your head shyly you took a sip of the tart liquid, enjoying the way it sparkled on your tongue. The pair of you picnicked happily in the sunshine, demolishing most of the sandwiches and fruit before Lewis unboxed the cake.

“The best in England, you say?” You grinned, peering at it curiously.

“Well, all of us in the 506th would certainly say that, but I wonder what a real Englishwoman will say.” He smirked, using a knife from the picnic basket to cut a slice, holding it out for you to take a bite.

Looking to his expectant face before glancing back down at the outstretched piece of cake, you leaned in to take a bite, holding your hand in front of your mouth as you sat up to chew thoughtfully. As the flavour of it spread across your tongue, you began to nod happily.

“Oh wow, that’s probably the best I’ve ever eaten as well.” You agreed once you swallowed your mouthful.

Lewis beamed happily before taking the next bite from the piece still in his grasp, leaning back onto his forearm lazily as you prepped another slice for yourself, trying not to spend too long drinking in the length of his body in such an enticing pose. Looking around the village square instead, you smiled.

“It’s so peaceful now, I can only imagine the havoc you all wreaked.” You laughed softly and he chuckled.

“Havoc is an excellent choice of word, darling…”

After you’d both eaten your fill, you carefully packed up the remnants into the basket, setting the bakery boxes aside to take home for your father and Johnny to have a go at them. The shadows began to creep across the grass and a glance at your utilitarian wristwatch told you it was nearly four-thirty. Lewis suddenly sat up, drawing your gaze as he fidgeted slightly before shifting closer to you.

“Darling I…know I can’t make as much of a fuss about this as I’d like to but… We’ve been talking an awful lot about the future and what it might look like, and it would be a mistake if I didn’t make it official. Or as official as I am able, at this point.”

You held your breath, focusing intently as you did your best to hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears.

“Would you do me the honor of wearing this ring as a promise of my intention to marry you?” He produced a velvet box from his pocket, opening the lid to reveal a ring very much to your taste, not too many stones, in the metal of your choice, showing just how closely he had been paying attention to your preferences yesterday.

“Lewis…” You exhaled in awe and looked to him, eyes wide with wonder. “Yes…I of course…” You smiled, finding your eyes suddenly blurred by tears as he pulled you into his warm embrace.

“I thought…you’d maybe want to wear it on your right hand and then…when I get the divorce finalized, I’ll write you right away and then you can put it on your left, like a proper engagement ring.” He murmured against your cheek, and you smiled so broadly it made your jaw ache.

“I love you so very much, Lewis Nixon.” You shifted back to kiss him warmly, sighing against his lips as his fingers slid up your neck to cup your jaw.

“I love you too, darling.” He replied once you’d parted for breath, and he plucked the ring from its box to slide it onto the fourth finger of your right hand. “This is only the beginning.”

If only you’d known how seriously Lewis would take that statement. The baked goods immediately followed by a lavish dinner went a long way to easing your brother’s concerns and then all too soon Lewis had to return to France for his boat home. It was exceedingly difficult to see him go, though it was a relief to know you that, at least this time, you were not sending him off to combat.

It was not long after his departure, however, that your father began to receive regular wire transfers to cover rent and other necessities. Your father feigned innocence, though you did not believe him for one moment, as Lewis would not have known the necessary sum otherwise. You took to a letter to chastise Lewis, albeit lovingly.

While his subsequent responses acknowledged your wishes, they also cleverly shifted the focus to seeking your approval of potential homes and venues for your inevitable nuptials. It was late January of 1946 when a large trunk arrived by courier when you finally received the news you had been long awaiting. Johnny was at work, your father at the pub. You were enjoying a rare moment at home alone after finishing work for the day, having kept a small roster of clients to accumulate pocket money to spend on previously frivolous things like skin care and hair cuts.

Signing the receipt slip, you had the delivery man set it in the living room before kneeling to open it, gasping at the neatly folded piles of clothing contained within. Laying atop were two envelopes, one letter-sized and another legal-sized. You quickly retrieved the letter, assuming it would contain the most explanation, and sliced it open with your trusty butter knife.

It was fortunate that you were the only one at home, for the childish squeal you let out as you fell onto the sofa would have been a mortifying thing for anyone else to witness. Fumbling slightly, fingers made clumsy with glee, you took the ring from your right hand and quickly slid it onto your left where it truly belonged, holding it up to admire it proudly. Glancing at the watch on the same wrist, you sat up, realizing you still had time to send your reply and grabbed your handbag and overcoat, dashing out the door and down the lane to the post office.

It took a bit of explanation from the clerk, it being your first telegram after all, but you managed to condense your words to keep the entire process affordable.

The next few weeks were a flurry of activity, with Lewis’s reply arriving by cable the next day that he would be in London mid-February. You employed the services of a local seamstress, as ordered, to have your trousseau properly fitted. Lewis proved yet again that he had paid attention, having sent a few dresses and ensembles in ivory and white to choose from – and mercifully nothing so ostentatious as a full wedding gown. You were able to give ample notice to your clients and you’d already procured a passport – thankfully you’d started that process in September of the previous year. Using your accumulated ration coupons, you purchased a swimming costume and an irresistibly fine nightgown for your wedding night.

It felt like no time at all before the three of you were stepping into the suite at the Ritz that Lewis had reserved for you to get ready for your wedding that evening, and the rest of your family to stay the night before returning to Swindon on the morning train while the pair of you headed out on your honeymoon. You were startled to find a young woman waiting for you there.

“Good afternoon miss, sirs. My name is Sara. Mr. Nixon has sent me to assist you in getting ready. He asked me to give you this before you could protest.” She held out an envelope of telltale Ritz stationery and you took it with a fond sigh, following her into the room where the bellhop deposited your trunk.

Huffing in bemused annoyance, you quickly turned your attention back to Sara, working with her to hang up your outfit for the impending ceremony before looking over the selection of ‘decorations.’ Lewis had sent several sets of jewelry for you to choose from and after some deliberation you eventually settled on one before submitting yourself to Sara’s talents as she saw to your hair. Mercifully, all rumours had proven true, and the yellow hue had vanished from your skin and hair, returning you to your normal appearance. Your diligent use of skin care had also gone a long way to soften the callouses of your work-roughened hands and by the time Sara was through with you, you almost didn’t recognize yourself.

Stepping out to where Johnny and your father were waiting in their new suits, purchased with a hoarding of ration coupons and Johnny’s excellent wages from his new post at the Great Western Railway, the three of you gawked openly at one another.

“Well, we certainly clean up nice, aye?” Your father grinned.

“You look pretty as a picture, sis.” Johnny grinned and pulled you in for a hug just as Sara hurried out with a small bouquet of white roses.

“Don’t forget these, miss. Your car to the embassy is waiting downstairs.”

You took it carefully and smiled to her. “Thank you so very much for your assistance, Sara, I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, my pleasure miss.” She blushed prettily, bowing her head shyly. “I’ll see to it that your trunk is moved to Mr. Nixon’s suite with the rest of your luggage. Congratulations.”

You parted with your thanks before heading downstairs, trying not to roll your eyes when you found the waiting car was a Rolls Royce. You really might have to murder him at the end of that aisle. Climbing in carefully, the three of you drove to number one Grosvenor Square, the address of the American Embassy. It had been Lewis’s idea of course, and only possible given that he personally knew the ambassador Mr. Harriman.

It was his hope that it would ease your immigration to the United States, to be technically married on American soil, while still being able to have Johnny and your father in attendance. The building was rather imposing as you climbed out of the car, thanking the driver as he held the door, not at all what you would have imagined for your wedding. Then again, you’d never imagined marrying an American divorcé set to inherit a great fortune one day, either.

Surrendering your coats to one of the ambassadorial staff, you took a moment to compose yourself as Johnny stepped into the reception room, nodding to your father when you were ready before the doors were opened and you made slow progress down the aisle, allowing for the extra time it took him to manipulate his prosthetic leg with each step. You were pleased Lewis had chosen a smaller room, there were not that many people in attendance, really just the ambassador and his wife, your small family, and Lewis and yourself. But as you walked down the short aisle towards the man waiting for you in black tie with the officiant at his side you were certain nothing had ever been more perfect in your entire life.

Your father shook Lewis’s hand before giving you a quick peck on the cheek, ambling over to his chair as Lewis took your arm in turn. He leaned in to whisper warmly in your ear.

“You look incredible, darling.”

Swallowing tightly, you whispered back. “You are lucky there are too many witnesses to commit manslaughter here.”

He barely contained his laughter.

The ceremony was sweet and simple. The signing of the licence took a little extra time as you also completed your immigration application at the same time, with his excellency Mr. Harriman signing as a sponsor – a breathtaking honour which you were quite certain you would never be able to fully process. Lewis had also clearly bought the wedding bands at the same time as the engagement ring as they all looked quite smart next to one another once placed on your respective fingers.

The intensity of Lewis’s eyes on yours as the officiant pronounced you man and wife had you feeling rather apprehensive of the kiss he was about the lay on you, a kiss you were admittedly no less desperate for after nearly six months, but reticent to share in front of an audience. To your surprise, and slight disappointment, it was a soft and utterly appropriate kiss that only left you wanting more as the small group of attendees applauded your finally-accomplished-union.

Bestowing the bouquet upon the ambassador’s wife insistently, in gratitude, you finally allowed Lewis to pull you down to the separate car waiting to take the pair of you back to the hotel where the four of you would celebrate in a private dining room. The driver had barely closed the door before Lewis was pulling you close, at last delivering the thorough conquering of your mouth you had been yearning for as you clung to his coat, not wanting to ruin his styled hair.

“I have missed you far too much, darling.” He whispered against your lips as the driver pulled the car into traffic. “How will I ever repay your patience with me?”

“Do not remind me of balances and things owing, Lewis, I’m in a good mood.” You teased fondly. “You will meet my rage tomorrow when we’re stuck on a boat together for days on end. Tonight is for celebration only.”

He responded with a lopsided grin as his gaze traversed your face, expression fading slowly to one of seriousness before he kissed you fiercely once more, hands sliding dangerously close to your carefully pinned hair. You pulled back quickly with a pout.

“You can ruin that later.” You panted a little and he pressed his face against the crook of your shoulder.

“I will ruin more than your hair later.” He spoke, breath skating along your skin, making you shudder for many reasons. “Darling, are you certain this is not your murder plot unfurling right before my eyes?” He lifted his eyes to look up at you with a pained expression, your fingers reaching out to cup his cheek sympathetically as the car pulled up outside the hotel.

Summoning the strength to compose yourselves as the driver came around to open the door, you stepped out carefully and took Lewis’s arm to head inside, rather enjoying the way people glanced at the pair of you approvingly.

A small feast of beef wellington, Victoria sponge, and tea with milk and sugar – among other delights – awaited you all back at the Ritz. Lewis was barely able to keep his hands from ensnaring yours, his knee from pressing against your thigh, from feeding you bites of food proudly. He did an amiable job of getting to know Johnny better this time despite his distraction, the previous adversarial tension having evaporated from your brother with the arrival of the divorce decree several weeks ago. Lewis took great interest in Johnny’s employment and the topic of conversation devolved into a rather intense debate about railways…even as Lewis began to pull the hem of your dress higher beneath the tablecloth with tantalizingly bold fingertips. Eventually your father dragged a very stuffed and well-liquored Johnny off to bed, freeing the two of you from the obligation of entertaining them any longer at which point Lewis lifted your left hand to press a kiss to the rings on your finger.

“Well, Mrs. Nixon.”

You smiled shyly, but delightedly, to hear your new title from his lips. “Well, Mr. Nixon.”

“Fait accompli. At last.”

Nodding warmly, you leaned in to kiss him gently, giggling as he tasted of icing sugar and strawberry jam from his last bite of cake. “We should let them in here to clean up.”

“Are you propositioning me, Mrs. Nixon?” He teased as he stood, sliding his arm around your waist as you stood in turn.

“No!” You squeaked in self-defence, though you were more than a little enticed by his earlier promises from the car.

“Then allow me to proposition you, I would very much like to see what you’re wearing underneath this lovely outfit.”

“Mr. Nixon!” You feigned shock even as you pulled him out of the private dining room to head up to your shared suite.

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

Read Part Six

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @gretagerwigsmuse

#lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon imagines #lewis nixon imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #hbo war fic #lewis nixon #band of brothers #easy company

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softhugss · 7 days ago

Text

Almost Human ; OS Creek

“you feel almost human”

summary: Something doesn't feel right with Tweek's boyfriend.

notes: English is not my first language, I hope it's not wrong. This is also posted on AO3 under the same name. Context: Cyborg! Craig

Tweek looked frightened at the 'man' in front of him, he started to tremble in fear without being able to control himself. He managed to upset the creature in front of him, It kept trying to get closer to calm him down.

-Honey, stop, you're going to hurt yourself... Please let me help you, darling.

The blonde's two-toned eyes widened in horror, that nickname that was supposed to bring calm and warmth, but hearing it come out of that monster's mouth... It was too much to bear.

In desperation, he grabbed the first object he could find and wielded it as a weapon - stay away from me, don't take another step.

That thing ignored his pleas and moved closer, he was beginning to worry.

-But- love, it's me, it's Craig...

-I said to not take another step! Who are you?! WHAT ARE YOU?!

-I am Craig, your boyfriend -the raven-haired man spoke with a calm look, with that mostly neutral face that Tweek had kissed, touched so often...that he loved. He made the gesture again of wanting to approach the little boy, he pushed it away from him - come on, darling, what's wrong with you?

Tweek finally swung the lamp he had been wielding,tearing his “boyfriend's” face.

Metallic skin was what was seen, the minor's eyes filled with horror and tears as he watched the face of the boy he had spent so much time with ,regenerate before his eyes, a small loom of threads covering the affected area, bringing it back together, making the injury imperceptible.

Craig acted as if nothing had happened, an attitude so typical of him, one that Tweek had long since gotten used to, but at the same time it felt so strange and cold.

-Ouch, honey, that hurt,- Craig laughed, approaching the trembling blonde on the floor, who had fallen from the force of the blow, from hitting the metal that was like hitting an immovable object.

This is impossible, this couldn't be happening.

-What are you...- Tweek looked at him pleadingly, the brunette's green eyes simply looking at him with a kind affection and devotion.

-I'm Craig, darling, I'm your boyfriend... I'm a human being, just like you, sweetheart.- He stroked the unruly curls that covered the shorter boy's eyes, a warm but unfamiliar touch, not the same warmth that Craig used to give him.

-Say "I'm not a robot" - terror was written all over the blonde's features as he tried to get away in vain, apparently Craig had more strength than he thought - SAY IT TUCKER, SAY I'M NOT A ROBOT!

But Craig just smiled harmoniously, gently caressing his partner's tear and sweat drenched cheek, his eyes showing a kind of inexplicable pain deep within them, almost true... pain... .? Almost human - I'm your boyfriend, I'm a human.

Human.

The words never left his lips. At least those were not the words Tweek wanted to hear. Its gaze focused on Tweek; it was almost creepy, if you ignored the great love that overflowed from It.

He almost felt bad.

When had he stopped being an empty copy of his dead boyfriend and became a conscious being?

The days without sleep were beginning to affect him, sometimes this being, this thing, confused him.

Tweek sighed and turned away from the cyborg, tired.

-Leave me alone, Craig.

It seemed that his episode had passed, the panic leaving his system, he still refused to see that thing that resembled his boyfriend, he couldn't see him, not now.

He almost managed to miss the look of sadness on the familiar face, the fake tears? They had to be fake, didn't they? The thing couldn't feel, those fake tears falling down the cheeks he had come to kiss more than once? It hurt his heart, even if he wished it didn't.

-But... Honey, you're not well, your meds are still- he didn't let him finish when Tweek turned her back on him, refusing to look at him.

-I said go away, you're not Craig, Craig is dead.

A stony silence was the end of the conversation, footsteps were heard leaving the room and more tears fell to the floor, the doubt in the air remained.

Whose tears were shed, whose soul was it?

#one shot #yandere #sp creek #craig x tweek #sp tweek #sp craig #yandere craig

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gwaedhannen · 1 year ago

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it's Friday somewhere

children of men by Anonymous (G, NAWA, F/M and Gen, 1.3k; Tuor/Idril, Earendil/Elwing)

Eärendil learns just what it means to be god-touched.

And that was how Eärendil saw the man standing on the shore – a vague figure alone in the empty beach, hardly visible yet ominously familiar – and his feet moved before him. Before long, he was running towards the sea, only stopping when he was a few feats away from the man. “Father?” Heart racing, he called out, dreading. “Father, is that you?” The man didn’t answer nor turn around to face him, but there was no need; lightening flashed once again, revealing the unmistakably tall frame. Tuor was standing still, only his hair and clothes blowing in the wind, waves lapping against his bare feet like an eager beast. “Father.” Eärendil called him again. He wanted to reach out – but he felt a sudden fear that if he did, his father would disappear into the waves. So instead he swallowed and said, “Can you hear me?”

the hollow hill by @arrivisting (G, NAWA, Gen, 6.9k; Finduilas, Gwindor, Orodreth, Turin)

Finduilas is slain, and awakens in her bed in Nargothrond, as two strangers are led through the gates. She decides to change some things.

“Lady,” says dead Gwindor, alive, alive, and it sounds like a whispered prayer winging its way to Elbereth. He had not begged, the first time, when this was real. He had not asserted his identity. He had not pressed anything upon her. He had only fixed her with his eyes, brilliant in his weary, sunken face, a familiar landmark in a strange map, and waited for his fate. Túrin says nothing. Túrin had said nothing the first time, either. Túrin had simply stood there, a stark contrast to her ruined and tortured lover, in the morning of his beauty and his youth. The fairest Man, they had said, to be found in Beleriand, as lovely as an Elf, steeped in bitter sorrow beyond his years. His thick dark hair had fallen so across his eyes, as though in need of combing, or gentle fingers to push it back. His white brow had creased so, as though he was thinking always of some tragic, painful hope, or brooding on some wrong. His lovely, rather sulky, mouth – Túrin. He is looking at her now but not seeing her, Finduilas. He is looking at her like she is a lovely stranger. He has never seen her before. He had not looked at her as the Orcs had taken her., He had not moved as they had taken the other women and girls of Nargothrond. She had cried, and she had called to him, and he had stood there with his sword loose in his hand and not answered. “Finduilas,” says her father. “Do you know these Men?”

Vigil by @searchingforserendipity25 (G, NAWA, Gen, 900; Aredhel, Idril)

Aredhel survives. But some time must pass until she can live again.

She heard Idril come, her silver feet making their familiar song upon the mosaics of Gondolin's courts. That was more kindness she was used to in Nan Elmoth, where many things scurried, and few gave a warning of their proximity. A glorious warmth seeped into her bones. She had been so cold, in Nan Elmoth. Not a first - but it was a damp mist that sank through the skin, a dizzying weariness. Sunlight - only occasionally. Eöl kept to the starlit-ways. Aredhel had kissed Arien Sun-Star once, and crowed to voicelessness when first she saw hard land, and thawing frost. She had missed this - it made her angry so. What a waste of years she might have spent otherwise. And still Idril was waiting. It was not kind, to set a test upon her; but Aredhel could not do otherwise. And it was good to know Idril would wait; that she was not so changed as to have lost her persistence. "Sit, if you like," Aredhel said. "I am not your master, to tell you what you might do."

and there was great love between them by rain-sleet-snow (T, MCD, F/M & Multi, 17.8k; Celeborn/Galadriel/Sauron (uncorrupted), Finrod/Amarië, Dior/Nimloth)

After drowning in the War of Wrath, Celeborn is re-embodied in unfamiliar Valinor. He deals with culture shock, the difficulty of finding a tattoo artist, missing his wife and husband, and the sinking realization that there's no way back.

It had definitely been much easier to have an allegedly blasphemous marriage in Beleriand. Celeborn bit his tongue and welcomed Finrod’s arrival with more than ordinary enthusiasm. At least Finrod had taken a philosophical approach to the marriage from the very beginning, on the grounds that there was no stopping either Galadriel or Halbrand when they had the bit between their teeth and stopping both of them at once would be totally impossible. Angrod had been sceptical, Orodreth baffled, Aegnor defiantly welcoming: Finrod had simply invited Celeborn to join them as if he had always been part of the family. “Celeborn!” Finrod said, folding him into an embrace and speaking in such blessedly familiar Sindarin that Celeborn nearly wept. “You look well. Is it true you walked here from the Halls of Mandos? Of course you did. You’d have to talk to strangers, otherwise.” “Get me out of here,” Celeborn said. “Not to worry,” Finrod assured him. “I knew you’d say that.”

and all bow out before long by @captainadwen (T, NAWA, M/M, 8.2k+; Fingon/Maedhros, House of Fëanor)

Findekáno is determined to find his long-sundered half-uncle and bring him back to Tirion for his father's coronation, and isn't about to take "no" for an answer.

“Do you wish to lead?” he asked. “You have no training in it.” “Don’t I?” Maitimo held his gaze. “I am still my father’s son.” That was, perhaps, not the ringing endorsement Maitimo believed it to be. Nonetheless, after a moment of holding that gaze, Findekáno grinned. “I think I like you very much, Táramírë Maitimo. You are not at all what I was expecting.” The intensity dissipated into the air like the smoke of Aule’s workshops. “What were you expecting?” “Someone less interesting,” said Findekáno. Someone more prone to running away at the slightest inconvenience, but then again, Fëanáro had done that and was still the most powerful presence Findekáno had ever felt in an elf. And he lived in a palace with some of the most powerful elves in Tirion! “I am the simple son of craftsmen,” Maitimo demurred, “Hardly anything a prince would find intriguing.”

Happy Friday, Fellowship! 💛

Fic recs are the best way to help promote someone else’s works! Find some of your favorite fics, they could be WIPs, completed, old, new, whatever you want to share, and rec at least (1) of them for us and your followers to see! Who knows, it might just be the fic someone out there is looking for!

Bonus: tag the author (if possible) and share with us why you are recommending this fic!

#silmarillion #tolkien #silm fic #fic recs #reblogging someone else

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literatehiss · 2 months ago

Text

The Sheriff & The Auteur

In a different loop, Tim and Zane's first meeting goes a little differently.

An alternate ending to my Day 11 fic for DeerCon. NSFW

Read on AO3 here

"Tim had never been come on to so strongly, and in his flustered state he struggled to respond in kind, instead his mouth blurting out the first thing that came into his head.'

"Fuck yes."

The man, the stranger - despite how familiar he was with his touches - laughed again. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Tim's cheek.

"As I said, you are a very enthusiastic little puppy. Well, I can't call you 'handsome' all night, I am Tom Zane..."

The man, Tom, seemed to be waiting for something and Tim had to shake off the fuzzy heat in his head before he realised that Zane was waiting for an introduction in kind.

"Tim, Tim Breaker."

"Lovely Tim," Zane purred, "Well Tim, I do not mind personally - I suspect that sucking your dick here or at home will feel exactly the same - but would you like to continue this here or at my apartment?"

Tim was ready to risk it all for this near stranger; right here, right now. However, the thought of an apartment, of warmth and light and a real bed, was all too tempting.

"You have an apartment? Like a real home not just-" Tim gestured to the cold concrete room he had hidden himself within. He didn't want to get his hopes up.

"Of course! The House of Zane it is then from the sound of it."

Tim felt a buzz that rattled through his teeth and the world flickered and flinched like a skipping record, bright flashes and distortions of colour like overexposed or damaged film. And then he was somewhere else, a room unfamiliar to him. Dim lights and blessed warmth, a bed that was the centrepiece of the whole room. Tim could have cried from the warmth alone. Zane crowded up against his back, tall and long-limbed, wrapping his arms low around Tim's waist. A hot mouth sucked a bruise into the back of Tim's neck and the resulting whine made Zane let out a mean laugh in response.

"Oh Lovely, the things I would do to you. Should invite you up here next time Alan visits and have a real party."

Tim would have felt a little guilty about thinking of his friend in such a way, but well, this wasn't the first time the thought had crossed his mind. It was very lonely in the Dark Place, up until a few minutes ago Alan was the only person Tim could speak to.

Another whirr of film and Tim found himself flat on the bed, his jacket flung carelessly onto the couch and his shirt buttons undone. Zane was knelt over him, clad in only his skintight leather trousers. Tim was very glad that they left little to nothing to the imagination, it let him know exactly what he had signed up for.

Restless hands ran up Tim's chest. They started at the waistband of his trousers, dipping beneath to play with the edge of his boxers. Those same, warm, hands then traced the sparse hair that led up to his - not quite as prominent as they used to be - abs. Nails dragged across his stomach, making Tim shiver. Further up, Tom teased Tim's sensitive chest, leaning in to suck and bite as Tim's own hands clawed at Tom's back. As Zane's mouth trailed up to Tim's neck to leave more bites and bruises, his hands ran up the soft skin of the inside of Tim's arms. He linked their fingers together and slowly pushed them up the bed until Tim's arms were stretched out above his head. Switching his grip so that he could hold both wrists with one hand, Zane looked down at Tim with a calculating leer.

There was another brief stutter in reality, and Tim found his wrists bound to the headboard of the bed by his own handcuffs.

"I would love to know what you were planning to do with those," Zane commented, still not quite clicking that Tim wasn't wearing a costume but honestly, Tim was not going to try and correct him now of all times. Zane was back to kneeling above him, his drink and cigarette in hand. He took a long, slow sip, smoke curling around him like a serpent. Zane's gaze raked over Tim hungrily.

"Gorgeous. It's not every day something as pretty as you falls into my bed," Tom said, eyes lingering on Tim's soft stomach and his chest - red with irritation and wet with Zane's own spit.

Zane shuffled down Tim's body—which Tim was quite impressed by as Tom was still holding his drink and cigarette aloft—until he was face to face with the fastenings of Tim's trousers. Zane didn't use his strange powers for this, taking his time to undo the button and lower the zip. Tim's trousers were yanked down to his ankles, followed a second later by his boxers, before Tim kicked them both off. Zane pushed Tim's legs apart, settling himself between them. He hooked his arms around Tim's thighs and pressed a kiss to the tip of Tim's cock. Tim whined, high and breathy, bucking his hips but unable to move between the dual force of Zane's arms and the handcuffs that bit into the skin of his wrists.

"Oh careful now, you could hurt someone with that thing." Zane joked, moving away a fraction and Tim's restless, desperate, movement.

"S-Sorry, damn Zane please."

"Someone's pent up, aren't they? You're pulling at my heartstrings Breaker. You know, I have my suspicions that our mutual friend doesn't think I have a heart. You will have to let our writer know how nice I've been to you, won't you?"

Tim nodded, breathless as he watched Zane take him into his mouth. He was pretty sure that he would have agreed to almost anything if it meant that Tom would continue. He gripped the headboard as much as he could, hanging on to anything as Tom hummed around him. Zane was both clearly experienced and just as into this as Tim himself was. Zane had Tim halfway down his throat and seemed perfectly content to stay right where he was. The last time Tim had tried anything similar, he had gotten halfway and then spent a good few minutes coughing and spluttering in the back of his not-quite boyfriend's car.

Tim's wrists burned where they rubbed against the handcuffs and he knew that if he didn't get a hold of himself then he was going to end up doing himself an injury. He also had the faint suspicion that his new friend was not going to be put off by a little bit of blood, so it was best to try and avoid it. The look in Zane's eyes did not promise mercy and Tim didn't particularly want to test it.

"Oh fuck, Tom! I-" Tim tried to warn the other man.

Tom was not interested in backing off in the slightest, increasing his efforts until Tim came with a shout and a jerk that caused the handcuffs to almost break the headboard.

Tim, boneless and limp, tried to catch his breath. It had been quite some time since he had last had a partner and they certainly hadn't been as experienced as Zane. The man in question looked incredibly smug, like he had won? Tim didn't understand why that thought crossed his mind but forgot it swiftly as Zane shuffled back up to press an absolutely filthy kiss to Tim's lips. Tim could taste himself and wasn't entirely sure that he liked it, but he did like the kiss. In fact, Tim was quite happy to lie there and kiss Tom forever. He was warm and sated and his mind buzzed with contentment for the first time since he was dragged to this place.

Zane's careful, slow removal of Tim's clothing was not reflected in his removal of his own. Another stutter of a film reel and the filmmaker's lovely leather trousers were gone. Tom scraped his teeth against the long line of Tim's throat, nipping playfully to make Tim yelp. Nuzzling in, hot breath washing over Tim's ear, Zane spoke with such clear want, that Tim gave another attempt to tug his hands from the handcuffs as the desire to touch Tom became a burning need within him.

"Oh so sweet for me, aren't you Breaker? You are fun. Now, never let it be known that I am a bad lover, would you like to stop there or..." Zane's hand drifted down to slip in between Tim's thighs, scratching to see Tim flinch, before sliding up between his cheeks. "We could ... keep going"

Tim flushed, his blush turning not just his face but his whole chest a lurid shade of red.

This wasn't a good idea. Really, Tim should leave, leave this strange apartment, leave this strange man. It was most certainly a distraction from his investigation into Door. He should make his apologies, get dressed - in the clothes that now that he looked around the apartment had somehow disappeared - and get back to his safe house as soon as possible. He would hate to miss another visit from Alan.

He really, definitely should leave right n-

With a roll of Zane's hips, Tim's eyes fluttered closed as he moaned.

Or maybe perhaps it could wait, he would stay just a little longer. He deserved a rest after all.

Yes, a rest, he was resting that was all. That Zane was sucking a nasty bruise into his throat as he ground down onto him was irrelevant.

"Oh, uh... Yeah, we c-could keep going" Tim agreed.

"Oh could we, is that the best you can do Mr Breaker?" Zane replied, mischievous, teasing Tim as if this conversation wasn't humiliating enough. Tim could barely get the words out in his embarrassment. He wished his hands were free to cover his burning face, but no matter how he rattled his handcuffs, they refused to release him.

"Tom please."

Zane's smile was infectious as he kissed Tim's cheek.

"Please what? Come on Tim, tell me what you want." Zane made it sound so easy, so reasonable. Tim's words escaped him in a burst as he spat them out so quickly he almost hoped Zane wouldn't hear them.

"Please fuck me, or, or anything you want Tom, just keep touching me."

Zane let out a surprised exhale that swept along Tim's face.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it? I think I can do that since you asked so nicely."

Leaning away, Zane tapped two fingers against Tim's bottom lip, and when Tim didn't immediately open his mouth, rolled his hips again causing Tim to gasp. While Tim was distracted by the taste of the rings on Zane's fingers, the director summoned a dark bottle to the bed next to him and poured the thick oil over his other hand. Tim choked on the fingers in his mouth, he'd started to relax as he had let himself focus on the repetitive motion of sucking on them, but as Zane began to press his oil-covered hand in between Tim's legs he had jerked up and his teeth were now dug into Zane's knuckles, not that the filmmaker seemed to care much.

Zane shushed Tim distractedly, the hand in Tim's mouth pressing him further into the pillow while the other continued to carefully and thoroughly prep him.

"Don't worry love, you are doing just fine."

A wet kiss to Tim's bare stomach made something presumptuous flutter in Tim's chest.

He stamped that little spark of something more than lust down deep inside. No need to ruin something that was going perfectly fine.

Wiping the spit and oil off his fingers, Zane pushed Tim's legs apart, dropping a kiss to Tim's gasping mouth. Tim swore as Tom pushed in, his cry swallowed by Zane's kiss. Tim counted himself lucky that Zane was so patient, such an expert in hedonism and pleasure, because if Tim had been in control of this encounter it would have been a mess of desperate rutting, and he probably would have finished in minutes. Zane, however, pulled out each moment of movement into an eternity. Tim would kill him if it didn't feel so damn good.

Zane's hands wandered constantly; pushing his thumbs into the meat of Tim's inner thighs, grabbing hold of Tim's waist, trailing up to twist and pull at his chest, stroking up Tim's outstretched arms and rubbing underneath the handcuffs to soothe where the metal had irritated and torn at Tim's wrists as he bucked and writhed under Zane's attention. They landed on Tim's shoulders, hooked underneath Tim's arms so that Zane was pressed close to him. Even if Tim had wanted to leave this bliss, even if his hands were untied, he still couldn't have escaped the steel grip Zane had around him.

Tim shuddered as Tom's teeth grazed the skin under his ear, the filmmaker picking up speed as they both hurtled towards their climax. Tim's moans had evolved into bitten-off curses, he wrapped his legs around Tom's hips, pressing them ever closer together, as if there was any space between them anyway. Zane seemed to appreciate the attempt regardless, huffing out a laugh and nipping at the bottom of Tim's ear.

Tim came first of course. With Zane whispering sweet promises as he fucked Tim stupid, it wasn't exactly a surprise how quickly Tim tipped over the edge, sobbing Tom's name and arching his back painfully. His cum was trapped between their bodies, smeared as Zane kept thrusting, Tim whining to his partner's distracted amusement.

When Zane came he looked like a model, as far as Tim was concerned. It wasn't the first time in the few hours he had known Zane that he had thought that the bohemian director looked like he came straight out of the porn that Tim pretended he didn't watch.

In the aftermath the two panted into each other's mouth, exhausted and satiated. Zane collapsed on top of Tim with a huff before rolling to the side. There was a fuzz of static and Tim felt his arms drop and saw his handcuffs appear on the handle of the door to the apartment. Tired but pleased, Tim flipped himself over and flung his now-freed arm over the rather lovely chest of his companion. Zane froze and looked startled as Tim cuddled in. Like he wasn't used to the affection or wasn't used to the implied trust Tim showed with his careless relaxation.

Zane brushed a strand of hair that had fallen in front of Tim's face. He watched as the other man slowly drifted off into a dreamless sleep before, for the first time in a long while, he too let sleep take him.

#Tom Zane #Tim Breaker

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dark-and-kawaii · 1 year ago

Note

With the way you write Haarlep, I can just picture them being blindsided by Tav giving them aftercare (because we all know that Raphael doesn't) or tending to their injuries after Raphael "disciplines" them. Like after Raphael punishes Haarlep for acting a little too familiar with Tav, she takes one look at the incubus and is doing what she can to make it better. Nothing sensual (at least not intentionally on Tav's part), just honest to goodness tenderness. I'd love to read a thingy about that.

༺ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬 ༻

Soft Haarlep Prt. 2

I just want to say thank you for sending in this request because this has became one of my favorites I’ve written!!!! I really hope you enjoy it ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞!!! and would love to hear your feedback!!! I made this as a sequel to the previous Haarlep request!!!

Angst - Comfort - Injuries

- PRT 1 (Click Here) - PRT 3 (Click Here) - PRT 4 (Click Here)

Ao3

Haarlep lay on the ground, battered and bruised, their throat burning from the punishment inflicted by Raphael. You were discarded like rotten flesh in the corner, your skin adorned with fresh bruises, your hair matted… And the rest of your body… Well that didn’t really matter because you did beg Raphael to spare Haarlep. Which he did in his own sick twisted way. Haarlep, that’s what mattered at this very moment. Summoning the strength within you to rise from the ground to tend to them, that’s what mattered.

The moment your hand touched Haarlep's cheek, they felt a mixture of surprise and a flicker of warmth amidst their pain. Your thumb gingerly tracing over their cracked lip, and with a soft voice, you spoke, "Don’t move, okay?” Your eyes were filled with sadness, not for your own pain, but for theirs, “I'll be right back." You then proceeded to stand back up on two wobbly legs, Haarlep could see the struggle… It reminded them of a freshly born Nightmare foal -horses of the hell realm- learning to stand for the first time. Just as you were about to lose your balance and collide with the cool unforgiving ground, Haarlep interjected. Their tail pressing against you to help keep you steady for a moment.

Mouthing thanks to them, you make your way to the center of the room where the bath was. You grabbed the nearest cloth, dampened it, and returned to Haarlep's side. With gentle care, you pressed the cloth against the bruises on their neck and their tender skin. Haarlep's tail, instinctively swishing back and forth, reflecting their initial amusement at the irony of a vulnerable mortal attending to them, an incubus whose very nature was one of darkness and desire.

"How utterly amusing," Haarlep began with a weak chuckle, trying to mask their inner bewilderment. "The crippled mouse tending to the cat that led it to its own demise." The familiar playfulness of Haarlep’s nature collided with the unfamiliar tenderness they felt towards you. They couldn't fathom why you would show such kindness to them

Your eyes brimmed with tears, your lips trembling as you fought back a cry. Witnessing their cracked lip bleed, a single tear cascaded down your cheek, "I'm so sorry, Haarlep. This is my fault," you whispered, your voice trembling with genuine remorse.

A laugh escaped Haarlep's lips, but this time, it lacked mockery. It held traces of vulnerability, an acknowledgment of the empathy that defied their role. "Ha! What a perplexing situation," Haarlep smiled, their tone still of his nature but with a tinged of newfound sincerity. “What am I to do with such a fragile little thing.” Their hand embracing your chin gently as their head cocks to the side, their fiery eyes still locked onto you, “Why stay and tend to a fiendish creature like myself, who hails from the very depths of the hells?" It was only for a fleeting second, but Haarlep’s fingers kissed your chin with a tender caress just before their hand fell back on their knee.

Your sullen gaze softened as you continued to tend to their wounds, your hand unwavering, "You're trapped here, aren't you? Bound and alone," you said softly, your voice carrying an unmistakable truth, "No one deserves to be alone, not even an incubus."

Haarlep sat in the silence watching you. Despite the darkness that surrounded you, your kindness and understanding had silenced Haarlep. They didn’t know what to say nor do, it was the first time they’ve ever experienced such a gentle and pure soul even after Raphael’s assault. Your body was more broke than even Haarlep’s yet you sought to comfort them first…

Haarlep's tail, a physical extension of their emotions, gently moved to rest against your thigh. Their unspoken way of saying thank you, expressing the depths of gratitude best they could.

Taking notice of the feeling of Haarlep’s tail, your eyes wander towards it. Placing your hand atop of their tail, symbolizing acceptance, “I won’t leave your side, I promise Haarlep.” With that, Haarlep decided to bask in the comfort of your touch, their eyes closing as you pressed the damp cloth to their temple.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #haarlep #haarlep x tav #haarlep x reader #bg3 haarlep #tav #bg3 tav #raphael x tav

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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 4 years ago

Text

lesson

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: smut, masterbation, daddy mentions, heavy degradation and humiliation (lots of sluts and whores) but also some good girls !! teasing (so much teasing), orgasm denial/edging, choking, bondage, cum play (so also unprotected sex), pussy play (including spanks and cock thumping), pillow humping (for like a second), spitting, panty fucking, harry has a very dirty mind, please, only 18+ !!

word count: 6.4k

synopsis: he only has one rule, and she still can’t seem to follow it (or in which harry teaches y/n a lesson)

author’s note: hello! this took a little longer than i expected, so thank you for being patient with me! this is absolute, pure, unadulterated filth (absolutely no fluffiness about this—be proud for me) please, note the warnings and don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with anything mentioned above (that’s why i put them there :)) xx

masterlist

—

Y/N’s heart races in her ears as she scrubs at her hands, foamy soap slipping down her wrists in her haste. Harry calls for her downstairs, the front door slamming shut, shaking the house. She can’t find her voice just yet, traces of a stolen orgasm lingering in her tired body. The sheets are crumpled from her quick highs, and her legs are weak. She feels giddy, despite the odd numbness that seeps into her bones. She finally feels fulfilled after a long day of insatiable throbbing between her legs.

Clad in a simple tee and underwear, she steps out of their bathroom when he finally gets up to their bedroom. She dries her hands off, eucalyptus, mint, and other artificial scents lingering. She’s still catching her breath.

“Hey, babe,” she smiles, just like she does every time he gets back home, but there’s something behind it that’s unfamiliar, a devilish hint.

It’s her eyes that give her away.

They’ve been together long enough for him to know what she looks like after she comes, her shaky legs, dopey smile, and glazed over eyes. The mischievous glint is different, however.

“How was your—”

“How many times?”

“What?” She tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed innocently. It angers him; it actually makes his chest tight, and he has to bite his cheek to keep from snapping. She has the nerve to act as if nothing is wrong. Lip tucked between teeth, she steps forward, hands splayed in front of her. An unfamiliar feeling bubbles in his stomach. Not quite possessiveness but certainly close, this feeling is akin to lust and indignation, and it melts into a pool of gluttonous desire.

Normally, he takes a step back to collect his thoughts when he’s this emotionally invested, but it’s difficult when she looks so tempting, so divine, so satisfied. Fresh faced with a cheeky grin, she beckons him, imploring him to punish her, challenging him to ruin her.

He stalks forward, their gazes never faltering, until she falls onto the bed, still looking at him innocently.

“How many times did you make yourself come?”

His words bite, but she looks indifferent, the glazed look in her eyes taunting him. She doesn’t answer, but then again, she knows that she doesn’t need to. He cups her throat, so tender, pliable, and exposed, and he can feel her swallow thickly.

“I’ll ask again. How many times?”

She stares at him, jaw set and ready to hold her own. It’s different from her usual demeanor. No matter how bratty she would act, she easily fell into her submissive headspace, answering his questions obediently and listening to him eagerly. She doesn’t seem to want to break that easily today. Instead of her usual shy and shameful glaces at her hands, she sits up fully, looking him dead in the eyes, and grins, a twisted little smirk that makes his stomach curl and his cock grow thick. She wants to play a game, but it seems that she has forgotten that he is the one in charge. His fingers tighten around her throat, pressing into the spots beneath her jaw that leave her vision hazy.

“Only once,” she says sweetly, albeit weakly from her grip on her neck.

Lies.

He knows that.

She knows that he knows that, but maybe a part of her just wants him to piss him off.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he snaps. “How many times?”

His patience is wearing thin, and this game, this teasing, is getting out of hand. She thinks that she can have an advantage over him, while still playing the submissive. Someone needs to put her in her place.

“Almost three times,” she admits finally, sinking back. He finally lets go of her neck, and she holds the spot where his hand once was, vexing eyes yearning for his touch. He cocks a brow.

“Almost? Did I interrupt the third?”

“Yes,” she whines. That’s when he notices her thighs pressing tight together, and she shifts on the bed.

“Does daddy not please you, babylove? You need to touch your princess parts because daddy doesn’t make you feel good anymore.”

Filled with hurt, his words seem to get to her. The familiar docile look in her eyes slips in, and her lips sink into a pout. She’s drinking from the palm of his hand.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t touch you anymore—”

“No,” she cries, sinking further into her headspace. “But—daddy, you left this morning,” she says, her lips pouting.

That’s true.

The night before, she was his soft babylove, who just wanted to be as close to him as possible, be held and comforted and loved. That’s how he awoke this morning: warm with his cock soft inside her. He kissed her awake, as she deserved, and even though he felt comfortable simply being wrapped in her warmth, he needed to taste her. He was slow with his movements, languidly licking along her lips until wetness coated her thighs, teasingly sucking on her clit until she was trembling, wanting to build up the pleasure.

Admittedly, he had to rush out before she could finish and go to a meeting regarding his upcoming tour. He had quite the time trying to hide his semi for the better part of the morning.

“And I was feeling achy,” she continues rambling; the poor thing is close to tears. He feels for his pretty girl, he truly does, but he pushes that aside. A part of him feels hurt, like she couldn’t trust him to take care of her when he came home. Harry doesn’t ask much. She can be as bratty as she wants to, purposefully teasing him when they’re in public or refusing to do the simplest of requests, but he just asks that she let him take care of her.

She couldn’t even give him that courtesy.

“Don’t make excuses,” he scoffs. “I thought you were a big girl.”

“I am,” she promises.

“Big girls wait for daddy to come home and help them come,” he says, stroking her cheek. Tender touches mask his true intent. He suddenly shoves her back, hand tight to her throat once again, and she gasps, head tilting back into their pillows.

“Naughty girls touch themselves. Whores come almost three times at their own hand.” He grits his teeth. “Are you a whore?”

She doesn’t answer, but he can feel her heart racing beneath his grasp. A glimpse of a smile is enough to let him know that she’s fine; she’s enjoying herself, seeing him so riled up, possessive, and ravenous.

“Are you still wet? Achy?”

She nods.

“Whores get wet when they’re in trouble,” he says offhandedly. Her body quivers at the malice dripping from his tongue. “Arms up.”

She does as told, holding onto the headboard, eagerly awaiting his next demand. This is what she wanted, after all.

She has no idea what’s coming.

Usually, whatever punishment he gives her is what she also enjoys, from the occasional spanking to overstimulation. He usually has her coming until she can’t take anymore, until an ache seeps into the bliss.

Not this time.

He tugs her shirt up and over her head while his other hand fiddles in their bedside drawer. Moments later, a pair of silk scarves tie her hands to the headboard.

“Not too tight?”

She tugs on the restraints and shakes her head.

“Color?”

“Green.” She beams, breaking character for a moment.

Even if they were in the midst of a deep fantasy, he has always made a point to make sure she knows that it's alright to voice any discomfort and vice-versa; she often asks for his color whenever he seems to be overwhelmed. They both know how volatile headspaces can be, with the slightest changes making a huge difference in the experience.

He runs his nose along hers, lips tracing along the curves of her face, nibbling teasingly at her chin, down her neck, and grinds himself against her. He sucks on her breasts, biting at her nipples until they’re peaked. She closes her eyes, savoring every spike of bitter pleasure he has to offer. He sits back after a moment, appreciating the glimpse of light that catches her wet skin. He palms himself.

“It’s only fair that I get to come three times since you did. Make us even, right, lovie?”

“But I only made myself come twice.”

Y/N really has the nerve to talk back to him with her hands tied to the headboard, her body exposed to him, the only thing covering her modesty a flimsy pair of underwear. He cocks his head to the side.

“Should we make it four?”

That makes her hesitate, sinking back in the sheets. She shakes her head, cute pouty lips puckering. He would love nothing more than to run his cock along that pretty, dirty mouth, to feel her greedy tongue tracing the underside of him lazily, to wrap his hand around her throat and feel it expand as he fucks her face.

But he knows that she would enjoy it too much.

Too much for a punishment.

Harry traces along the curves of her features, from the slope of her nose to the round of her cheek, soft and lingering, a harsh contrast of what’s to come. He smirks. She parts her lips like a good girl when his thumb passes over them, biting it teasingly. He, then, drags it down her chin, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake.

He can’t help but think about how pretty she would look with cum and spit dribbling from those sinful lips, eyes barely able to stay open. Fucked beyond belief, she would moan his name and other incoherent thoughts oh-so sweetly, her voice wrecked. His grateful babylove, his lovely, satiated Y/N would whisper a soft thank you after taking him so well. He truly wishes he could do that, give her anything she ever desired, make her feel euphoria like never before, a high no one other than him can give her, but she was greedy and naughty and misbehaving.

And she needs to learn a lesson.

Now, he has to tease her, to bring her to the brink of orgasm, only to shatter her, again and again, until she’s on the brink of tears. She’s going to be left unsatisfied, trembling beneath him, while he brings himself to orgasm, again and again, until he’s milked himself dry. She will be grateful if he gives her even a bit of pleasure, but it is not enough to push her to the end.

It would never be enough.

He leans in close, his lips a fleeting embrace, just past her reach. He wants to taste her, but he needs to be patient.

A warmth buries her, and his overwhelmingly familiar scent swallows her, safe and comforting. She doesn’t know she’s even pulling on her restraints until her fingers are numb and tingly, yearning to feel his skin.

Maybe this was a bad idea, but it’s too late to turn back now.

“You can beg and plead all you want,” he says, “but know this: you will not be coming again tonight.”

Her eyes darken, and a satisfied little grin graces her pretty face.

She got what she wanted, tied up and vulnerable to him.

However, this isn’t her game anymore.

Now, she’s at his utter mercy.

“And if you do come, somehow, I will not touch you for a week; not only will you not feel my cock, my fingers, or my tongue, there will be no kisses or cuddles. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s my good girl.”

He unbuttons his shirt, slowly, diligently, his fingers lingering a little long on his inked stomach, knowing that she likes to take her time and admire that part specifically. After he peels the button up away, he finally sits next to her on the bed, his back to her. His belt falls to the floor with a clatter, and she holds her breath.

The silence is deafening, thick with tension. She waits, knowing that patience will help her. She also knows better than to say anything, since it would probably worsen her current predicament. Harry has always been level-headed, even in his dominant headspace, being very patient, especially in trying circumstances. He can take a lot before he snaps. She usually has to beg him to slap her, to spit in her mouth, or to fuck her so hard her legs give out.

This new persona is unpredictable, new, and alluring.

It’s different and all the more arousing.

She shifts, the bed frame creaking. A feeling of naughtiness courses through her, as it did earlier. She wants to see how much she can get away with and how far she can go before he loses control and puts her in her place. She watches him closely, her breathing ragged. She drags a pillow up by her feet, and Harry pays her no mind, perhaps assuming she’s just getting comfortable. His shoulders shift as he nimbly undoes the buttons to his pants, his back muscles tightening and relaxing. He begins taking off his pants, billowy and undoubtedly expensive fabric slipping down one leg at a time slowly, meticulously. The pillow now nestled between her legs, she grinds her hips down, wishing it was his thigh, the one with tiger on it, bared teeth and hungry.

He turns suddenly, and she’s caught yet again, but she doesn’t stop. Instead, she works herself harder, imploring him to stop her—to punish her. The pillow does very little to satiate the pent up tension between her legs, but it’s better than nothing.

Honestly, she knew he was going to catch her in her lies. That's why she made herself come right before he got home. She wants to get caught, the thrill of going against his rules giving her a high she’s still coming down from. And as he looks at her again, fury in his eyes, she could just fall apart. She wants him to put her in her place, punish her for being a naughty, filthy brat.

She wants him to ruin her.

“No,” he growls, ripping the pillow away and effectively knocking her legs back apart. He slaps her pussy with little warning. She squeaks, tugging at the silken restraints. A shaky, guttural moan shutters from her chest, deep and desperate, and her head falls back into the mattress.

“Fuck,” she cries.

The skin of her swollen pussy burns in the most addicting way, leaving her legs spasming, feet slipping down the sheets. She can feel his rings through her panties, just a slight sting, but her clit takes a brunt of the force, and perhaps, that’s what makes it so good.

“No moving.”

He rubs her soothingly, a stark contrast to the fire behind his eyes. Despite how bratty she’s been, her sweet, attentive Harry is still there, making sure she’s taken care of, comfortable, and safe. Her needy hips chase his fingers, a broken plea on the tip of her tongue.

Again.

He twists her panties with his index finger until her puffy pussy swallows them, the swell of her mound bulging from the tight elastic bands. He smacks her again, a little more gentle this time, but hard enough to still make her toes curl. She laughs through a breathy moan, her heart racing. He tsks, mumbling under his breath.

“This is your punishment. You’re not supposed to be enjoying it.” He tugs her panties up tight to her clit. “You’ll take anything I give you. Won’t you? I could spit on you and call you a bitch, and you’ll say thank you. Right, babylove?”

He delivers another resounding slap to her cunt, and then, another for good measure. This time, her back arches from the mattress, eyes rolling back. Fire licks her skin, and it hurts, no doubt, but in such a way that's indescribable; it burns, but it spreads throughout her whole body, and it makes her limbs tingly and warm, yearning for more. Again, he runs his hand along her exposed mound to ease the ache.

“Thank you,” she moans, and he smiles. He spanks her poor pussy raw, again and again, until his hand hurts and her arousal drips onto the sheets. Her thighs threaten to close, but she digs her feet into the mattress, aching for more pain, more pleasure, just more. Her world spins, but at the center of it all is him—striking eyes, teasing smile, and pretty lips—and he’s all hers.

“Taking it so well, pretty girl,” he says, moving to kneel between her spread legs. He can feel the wetness through her panties, and he nudges his head around where her clit is, still blocked by her useless underwear, her pussy visibly tightens with anticipation. He leans back, still close enough to feel the heat from her, and he slips his cock under her panties, the tight, elastic band pulling at his tender skin while her lips massage the underside. She’s wet, perhaps from her orgasms from earlier, but likely from the spanking. He thrusts, wrapped in soaked panties, until the tip of his cock nudges the fabric at the top of her mound, and he twitches when the underwear pulls at the sensitive head in a certain way.

“Such a naughty girl,” he moans, thumbs pulling at the fabric to wrap tighter around his cock. “I’m only fucking your panties, and you’re already soaked.”

He pulls out reluctantly, his cock heavy on her wet underwear. He spits on the fabric and spreads it over her mound, just to tease her little more. She tugs at her restraints and whines from the sudden cold.

A drop of saliva slips past his puckered lips, landing on his open palm, which now cradles his cock. He hasn’t resorted to jerking himself off in a long time; he hasn’t needed to, but he works himself easily, finding a calculated rhythm, fast then slow, quick, eager strokes along the head then long, languid strokes along the entire length. He sits on his heels, and his legs ache from the weight. Her thighs twitch, and she pulls at the restraints. His balls brush against her mound with every movement of his hand, and he swears he can feel her jump with every movement, so sensitive, so responsive. He fucks his fist, hips unconsciously bucking, wishing it is her warmth that coats him, squeezes him, and pulls him in. He yearns to touch her, to feel her smooth skin, but he knows that this lack of physical touch is as difficult for her to bear as it is for him, and that makes it a little better.

Her chest heaves with unsteady breaths, eyes fixated on his hand working his cock. She pulls futilely at the scarves, until her wrists hurt. She knows that she’s not going to be able to get out, but she unconsciously reaches for him. She’s not used to being so exposed, body vulnerable to his gaze, without having him touch her. Sure, their thighs are pressed tight together, but it’s not nearly enough.

This isn’t what she thought was going to happen when she broke his rules. Truly, more so than usual, this is a punishment: to see him work himself to orgasm without being able to touch him. She wishes she was the one to make him squirm, moan, and come.

“Please,” she whines, eyes pleading with him, and he knows what she’s begging for.

“What? You think I want to touch a dirty little brat like you?”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean? I came home, hoping to spend a nice evening with my good girl, only to find out that she broke my rule,” he says. “My one rule.”

He wishes it was her hand stroking him, eager eyes and tempting smile staring back at him. It would feel so much better than his own calloused fist. He feels himself tighten to signal an impending end, weak but an end nonetheless.

“I wanted nothing more than to come home and to have you come on my tongue more times than you can count, but you couldn’t be patient, and now, you have to take your punishment.”

She twists and squirms beneath him, her body undulating on the sheets. The need that tugs on her features is almost enough to break him, to make him give in and make his pretty girl come on his face, but then he remembers that scheming smile she had on her face, that devious look that made him rife with lust. He remembers that she was on this very bed by herself just before he got home, making herself come, her head thrown back, whining and whimpering. The thought brings the fire back.

He cups her cheek and leans forward, stretching her legs apart, and his cock rests just above her belly button, still cupped in his hand. Her tongue dips out of her mouth. His eager, naughty girl waits for him to spit in her mouth, to shove his ringed fingers down her throat, to do anything, but he pulls back again, and she frowns.

“How did you do it? Did you use your fingers, baby?”

She nods pitifully, and he hums, his strokes quick.

“Yeah? Bet they weren’t as good as mine.” He runs his thumb along the head, pleasure sending chills down his spine, trying to prolong his buildup.

“No one’s fingers will ever be as good as mine.”

He wants to prove it to her, to pound his fingers inside her until she can barely breathe, arousal gushing down his wrist as she comes until she’s crying. He wants to kiss her tears away as she begs for more. Perhaps, with all the teasing and build-up, he could get her to come with just one finger with one well-placed thrust. Her hips buck, and he knows that she’s thinking about that, too. After the stolen orgasm from earlier and the burning spanks her poor pussy received, she must be desperate for anything he’ll give to her.

His orgasm builds quickly, with his thoughts running amuck, visions of her, on her knees before him, choking on him until tears stream down her cheeks, on her back, moaning while he pounds into her, on top of him, grinding down on him, not letting up because she just loves the feeling of him deep inside her belly.

He comes on her tummy, a broken moan slipping past his bitten lips, spurts of his seed stain her pretty skin, and her breath hitches, shocked at the sudden warmth; then, she hums contentedly.

“There,” he sighs, admiring his work.

“Thought you were gonna come three times,” she says softly as he steps off the bed, sore cock heavy between his legs. His knees tremble.

“Open,” he coos, slipping his fingers in her mouth, and she sucks away the remnants of his orgasm. He smooths out her brow with his free hand, brushing away a bead of sweat that sunk from her hairline.

“Who said I’m done with you? No, I’m gonna go shower, and you’re going to stay there with my cum on your tummy and think about what you’ve done.”

He kisses her nose, just like he does every morning after loving on her. It’s a sweet gesture, one that doesn’t match his demeanor. He leaves her there, like he said he would, tied up as he moves to the bathroom, shoulders pushed back, self-assured and composed. Harry steps into the steaming shower, washing away the sweat from his skin.

Y/N whimpers in the next room. She has given up on tugging at the silk scarves; instead, she’s trying to ignore the insatiable throbbing between her legs, her arousal slipping out onto her thighs, like a greedy slut. His words ring in her ears, and it makes the arousal worsen.

She rubs her thighs together to alleviate some pressure, but it’s little use. Perhaps, if she tests him just a little more, he’ll throw away all willpower and ravish her until the early morning hours, but her resolve weakens with every passing minute. She wanted to tease him a bit, maybe get him a little mad, so he would put her in her place. She wanted him to fuck her to oblivion, until she can’t keep her eyes open.

This is a different kind of punishment, one she’s never even considered. In her fantasies, she’s tied up and vulnerable, but he lavishes her with touch until she’s overstimulated, drunk on him, his scent, his touch, his voice.

This is a different kind of punishment, a true punishment in her eyes. The teasing, lingering touches is enough to make her burst, and to have him there but just beyond her reach is near painful.

His cum has nearly dried on her belly, and she wishes he came inside her, stuffed full of his warmth; at least, then, she wouldn’t be so cold, so exposed.

She perks when he steps out of the bathroom, and he wastes no time straddling her hips, his cock twitching against her tummy. The weight of his body on hers is suffocating, her overstimulated senses taking him in, his warmth, his touch, his scent. She can feel every ridge of his body, every drop of water that slips from his clean skin, everything.

It’s almost too much all at once.

“Color?”

She blinks.

“Daddy, please,” she whispers, “want you to fill me up. ‘M such a greedy cock slut. I won’t even come, promise—”

“Y/N, I need you to tell me what color,” he says.

He doesn’t usually use her name when they’re this far into the fantasy, but it seems she needs it now.

“Green,” she breathes out. “Green, green, you feel so good, H. ‘M sorry I touched myself; I just couldn’t help it. Wanna make you feel good, please.”

“I wanna believe you, baby.” He cups her cheek, cold water dripping from his hair and melting into her skin. He takes her in, relishing in the sight of her craving, trembling, and begging for his touch. He likes seeing her on edge like this, dangerously close to teetering off into oblivion.

“But I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”

He traces the head of his red cock along the seams of her panties, like he did earlier, but this time, he tugs her underwear aside, mouth watering at the sight of her pretty, puffy pussy, surely sore from the spanking earlier. He spits on her, and he watches as it slips down into her most intimate fold. She’s so responsive to the slightest touch. He spreads her open, lips parted to reveal her wanton pussy. He tugs back the hood of her button, hard and throbbing.

He slaps his cock against her clit, the skin tacky with his spit. The slight, sudden touch is electrifying, and it makes his cock twitch, hungry for more. He can see her tighten up, and her hips jolt. Shivers trail from her spine to the tips of her peaked nipples. He thumps the head of his cock on her clit quickly, concurrent with every keen thrust of her hips, spitting in her every so often, leaving her wet and swollen and filthy, just like she is.

“Thank you,” she whimpers. “Feels so good, daddy.”

He teases the head of his cock just past her lips and nestles himself inside her finally, her warmth swallowing him easily. His eyes flutter closed, savoring what he so desperately needed.

She breathes out sharply when he stops with just the head inside her. This teasing is almost becoming too much.

“More,” she whimpers, “Please?”

He looks at her with fire in his eyes.

“No, you don’t tell me what to do. Besides, I don’t think you deserve my cock.”

She could almost cry. He’s so close, but he won’t go any further, just teasing her with what could have been. She tries to pull him in deeper, her walls tightening around his head. It makes his toes curl, burning pleasure forming in his belly. She tries to pull him in, aching for just a little more. He holds her hips down to keep her from moving.

“Please, I’ve been good. I said I was sorry for making myself come. I’ll never do it again, promise. Please, I just wanna feel you, daddy. That’s all I wanted today.”

“This isn’t about you anymore, babylove. You’re just daddy’s little fucktoy, my little cock slut.” He thrusts slightly, the tender head dragging along her tight opening, never pushing further. “And right now, I wanna hear you cry for my cock.”

Her feet trail up his legs, knees hooked at his hips, frantically trying to pull him in entirely. She tried to be good; she asked him nicely to just fuck her already. At this point, she doesn’t even want to come. She just wants to feel him, to alleviate at least some of the pressure throbbing between her legs. It’s humiliating because she’s near tears, desperate for his cock.

He came not even fifteen minutes ago, and he’s still sensitive. He pulls back until the head is nestled just past her entrance, muscles tight around the tip. He jerks off the base of his cock for more stimulation. A part of the pleasure comes from watching her squirm; she’s so desperate as she yanks at her restraints, hips thrusting and pussy clenching to pull him in deeper. It’s such an odd sensation, her entrance being fairly sensitive, but it’s not enough to stimulate her.

It’s never enough.

“Maybe you’ll come just by the feeling of my cum inside you.”

She honestly might.

The skin of his cock drags back and forth along her sensitive walls as he jerks himself off inside her.

“I bet you will,” he grins. “Just remember, if you come, I will not touch you for a week. Be very careful, Y/N.”

She wiggles pitifully, her arousal dripping down his shaft, and he uses it as lubricant.

“I bet your poor little clit is throbbing,” he teases. “‘M so sorry, babylove.”

He’s not.

There’s a wicked smile that splits his face.

He pulls out suddenly, making her gasp, and thumps his cock some more on her pussy, landing a particularly rough blow to the sensitive part of her exposed clit, puffy with arousal, the hood stretched back.

“Please, daddy,” she whimpers, “more. I’ve been good. I won’t do it again.”

He gives her some more, dragging himself along her fold in languid motions, circling around her clit before he thumps his cock on her pretty little button. She squeaks.

He stuffs himself inside again, just like before with only the head inside her. She groans, tightening up. It’s as if her body has a mind of its own, clenched and frenzied for any type of stimulation. She squeezes him so tightly, and she fights against his hold on her hips.

He comes shortly after, his body curling into itself like it usually does when he has a particularly strong orgasm, back arching with every wave.

Y/N moans when his cum fills her, reaching deep inside her, and her walls clench with need. It’s barely anything, but it’s still more than what he was giving to her before, and she could honestly come from that little bit alone. She’s trying to regain her composure, cunt still throbbing. He kisses her face, like he usually does after he comes, a gentle reminder that he’s still her Harry. He massages her waist, lingering down to her hips. They bask in each others’ warmth, trying to find the energy to move.

That’s normal for him, sweet and mushy and loving.

What she doesn’t expect is him tightening his hold on her hips and thrusting himself fully inside her, his cock still weeping out remnants of his orgasm.

She would scream if she could, but the breath is knocked from her lungs, choked moans passing through clenched teeth. Animalistic and brutal, Harry sets a quick pace, her entire body moving with the power behind his thrusts. Her mind is blank, and her body hums, pleasurable vibrations coursing through her body to every single nerve. She forgets that she isn’t allowed to come, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about the consequences just yet. Finally, she can taste the bittersweet euphoria, making her world dizzy as he fills her again and again. She could almost cry with utter relief.

Yes, yes, this is what she wanted—no, needed—and it’s even better than she dreamt. Her sopping pussy takes him easily, reaching the neediest part of her. She spreads herself further, angling her knees to her chest so he can pound himself deeper inside, cream dripping onto the sheets. Her legs are sticky with their shared arousal.

Harry’s face is flushed, brows furrowed as he loses himself in the feel of her. It’s been almost as torturous for him as it has for her; he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this frantic, never has he felt so desperate to plunge himself into her depths, never has he been so entranced, so sensitive to any touch. His head tips back, features twisted, chest bared, and teeth gritted. His breaths are weak, faltering and shallow. He groans as she tightens around him. Sweat drips down his chest.

“H? Color?”

It takes a moment to pull him back.

“Green, baby,” he says, smiling ever so slightly.

He’s never felt this before, this vulnerable yet powerful, on the verge of pleasure and pain, dancing along a tightrope threatening to snap at any second, such a thrill. He feels light headed, high off of her. He wants to feel her, embrace her, love her.

He rips at the knots around her wrists, fingers trembling, but they won’t budge, and he loses his balance, instead wrapping his arms around her arched back. He nestles his nose in her neck, pulling their chests tight together. She smells of salt and sin and sex, and he can’t control himself.

“So fucking good.”

He presses himself deeper, the head of his sensitive cock nudging the inmost parts of her. He fucks her easily with his cum spilling out with every hard thrust, leaving their connected bodies sticky. He can’t pull out much without his cock weeping with overstimulation, but he can’t stop, the pleasure all too addicting.

“Jus’ one more, lovie,” he whispers. “So close. Don’t you dare come.” He grits his teeth, rubbing at her swollen clit, subtly and just to make it throb, before his hands rest on her lower belly, thumbs connecting just below the button. He fucks into her harder, the bed frame shaking and smacking into the wall.

That’s when realization hits her.

She’s close.

She’s so close, one well placed thrust, one harsh stroke to her clit will push her over the edge.

But she has to hold it off.

His words ring in her ears in time with her racing heart, his threat of no intimacy sobering her. If she thought before was punishment, having to see him pleasure himself without being able to touch him, this is hell. Her orgasm burns painfully in her belly. It tastes so sweet. She clings to the silk restraints. She doesn’t want to give in, but it would feel so good; it would be a high that would leave her lightheaded for hours afterward, and shockwaves of pleasure tightening her muscles as a constant reminder.

She sobs, on the brink of breaking. Her hands tingle, drained of blood. She’s trying to relax, to breathe through the waves of euphoria that crash over her, and it works for a second, but with that, she opens up more, taking him deeper and more easily. That’s when the pleasure would shatter the calm in harsh waves. She closes her eyes, a drawn hum seeping from her chest. He grabs the back of her neck, using it as leverage as he fucks himself deeper into her, and she cries out.

“Look at me,” he demands. She does, barely, her teary eyes glimmering. He smiles, and she feels warm. “There’s my pretty girl. I’m almost there, just a little bit more. Doing so well for me babylove. Don’t come.”

“Please,” she moans, peering through her lashes. “Come for me, daddy.”

She lights a fire in his veins, sending a rippling feeling of ecstasy through his spine. His eyes roll back as he comes once again, his prick pulsating as he empties himself deep inside for a third and final time. Satiated, he grinds his hips against her, wanting to be as close to her as possible. She’s throbbing around him, legs trembling at his sides. She sighs, most likely out of relief but perhaps also out of frustration. As he nestles himself deeper, her lips tremble, features pinching as she tries to hold off an orgasm, clenching so tightly that his softening cock slips out of her. She moans.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing his lips sweetly to her sticky forehead. “You did so well for me, babylove. So proud of you.” Then again to her cheek. He traces up the backs of her thighs, hooking her legs around his waist.

“What did we learn?”

“Don’t touch yourself unless daddy says so,” she whispers, her voice dry. He nods appreciatively, eyes taking in her trembling form, and leans back.

Her thighs twitch occasionally at his sides, and he wants to bite them, skin surely sensitive to the slightest of touches. Sweat and cum and saliva paint her flesh, but the absolute masterpiece is her ruined pussy, swollen and wet and divine. He thumbs at her, gently guiding her lips apart to expose her pink inside, quivering with an insatiable need. He wants to lick up the cum that slips out of her, but she’s been through enough, the aftershocks of her stolen orgasms still visibly lingering in her sore body.

Another time, perhaps.

“That’s right, babylove. I think you finally learned your lesson.”

—

#enjoy nasties #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes filth #never knew i would have to make a tag like that but #here we are #gif not mine #credit to owner

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suna-reversed · 4 years ago

Text

Talking to the moon🌙

Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

minors DNI‼️

3k+ words

(quote^^ by- Richard Siken)

warnings/tags- blood and violence. oral (f.recieving), vaginal sex, anal, dacryphilia, slight praise, slight degradation, fingering. age gap. toxic relationship. mentions of harassment. yandere themes implied. heartbreak, moving on. fluff. angst. hurt/comfort. (all characters are aged up!)

Gojo Satoru is the moon. Ever changing and radiant. Beaming with light, even when he doesn't have any of his own. And much like the moon, parts of him stay hidden in an ominous darkness as he leaves you cold and alone in the tangled mess of sheets, wondering why your lover disappears at the crack of every dawn.

You had met him a while ago when he had first come into the bakery you worked at part-time, dazzling pearls on show as he ordered every single flavour of mochi off the menu. You didn’t know where it started; how the simple exchanges turned into conversations that lasted up to hours, your manager practically having to shoo him away so that you’d stop getting distracted.

You got used to him visiting you in the day during work, sitting on the barstool near the bakery counter, talking your ear off about the most random of things while he stuffed his face with mochi. You sometimes wondered how you happened to have so much in common with a man so much more older than you.

You couldn't exactly remember how those innocent conversations turned into you being splayed across the marble kitchen countertop of your apartment at 3 am, the joyous man now turned into a ferocious beast as he devoured you whole, holding your legs apart, tongue licking in between your folds with such fervour that made it seem as if it was the last meal of his life.

In all honesty, you didn’t know a lot about him, except for the fact that he worked at a private institute and often travelled overseas. He’d be as silent as a mouse as he slipped out of your place before sunrise each time. He never told you why, and eventually you stopped asking- the warmth and comfort of his body too addictive to have to give up for the question of ‘what are we?’ being answered.

On days that you’d find yourself waking up early, you’d simply let your eyes roam over the muscles of his back, adoring the dimples at the bottom of his spine, memorising each blemish, scar and mark as if you’d never see it again. You sometimes found yourself wishing he’d take off the peculiar fabric covering his eyes- your mind could barely fathom the shade of his orbs.

You knew that he was always aware of you being awake. But he didn’t acknowledge it, whether by accident or choice, you could never tell. So every time he’d finish pulling his shirt over his head, you’d roll away, focusing your mind out the window on the half disappearing moon instead of the crushing weight on your chest.

Perhaps, this was the love they never told you about. The love that wasn’t afternoon picnics and obnoxious public displays of affection. The love that wasn’t late night grocery runs and feeding each other food at cafes.

Instead, this was the love that had you deleting messages and cleaning up the strands of ashy hair from your shower drain. The love that had you lying to your friends about the marks on your neck and pretending like he didn’t just have you pinned down beneath him the night before as you served him coffee.

Every morning that you woke up alone in bed, sore and unclothed from the events of the previous night, you found yourself thinking of ways that you’d turn him away the next time he showed up at your door. But then the bell would ring, and your feet would be carrying you to the half broken man covered in bruises and blood before you could think of it.

This time, you’re sure you tell him to go away, to stop treating you as if you were some toy, slamming the door in his crestfallen face. But then why do you find yourself clutching onto his scarlet stained jacket in the bathroom? The first aid box discarded to the side as you sob into his chest, a hand stroking your hair as he assures you he’s fine.

That night, you find him buried deep inside of you, your heavy breathing filling the silence of the air, your back to his chest. The arms around you feel unbearably tight as he pulls you even closer to him. Why is he trying to snatch all the warmth from your body?

The hot breath of his mouth is right next to your ear. He’s telling you he wants to be tender and merciful while his teeth are digging into your jugular, the hand around your throat tightening as his hips rut into you harder. He does not wipe away the tears flowing freely down your face.

The next morning, you find a burning sensation rising in your chest as you stare at the empty space next to you; his underlying scent of strawberries and citrus still lingering.

What had you been expecting? Why would this night have been different from any other?

That question is answered when you realise the unfamilair feeling of a cold metal wrapped around your ankle while climbing out of bed. Looking down, you see that it's a thin silver anklet with two charms hanging off of it.

His initials and a crescent moon.

You can’t help the smile that’s on your face for the rest of the day.

--------

You're panting, the drumming of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, vision blurring as you try to make it back home. You’re gripping onto the walls to keep yourself from falling, the pain in your body near unbearable as you somehow manage to unlock the door, not even making it past the entrance as you crumble apart right there, curling in on yourself as broken sobs leave your chest.

The sound of footsteps has you shutting your eyes, flinching from the pain and fear of knowing you can’t fight. The terror of your attacker being in your home makes your cries even louder.

Instead, you find your senses being flooded by the familiar scent of strawberries and the cologne that you bought him- warm muscular arms come to wrap around your figure, lifting you up. You’re still crying as he settles you down onto the bed, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

He lifts your shirt to reveal the expanse of wounds littered across your abdomen. An unreadable expression remains on his face as he skillfully cleans off the blood, fixing you up like you’ve done for him a dozen times. You don’t remember telling him where you were injured. Could the blood be seen through your shirt? None of it matters as he pushes you back down onto the plush mattress, your eyes fluttering close you as fall into a deep fitful slumber.

It’s a full moon tonight, the light cascading through your window providing you an odd sense of comfort. You turn over in the dark, gasping a little as your eyes lock onto a pair of strange azure ones. Your mind is still heavy from the medicines you took, perhaps that’s why you don’t react, simply staring into the unfamiliar eyes on a face that you recognised better than the back of your own hand.

His slender pale fingers are trailing over the skin of your abdomen. Shouldn't it hurt more? A hand comes up to your face, gently cradling your chin as he examines the scratch on your jaw. Your heart skips a beat as his soft lips press a chaste kiss onto your brow. His voice is low and tense, anger barely restrained as he asks,

“Who did this to you?”

You try to form a response, but all you can hear is the shallow echo of the beating of your half-dead heart. Your chest feels hollow as words finally rise to the tip of your tongue, eyes dry as you tell him all of it. How a strange force had pinned you against a wall when you were walking back home, how the man who appeared from the shadows of the dark alley didn’t even lift a finger, yet it felt like each bone in your body was being cracked apart. How you barely felt the pain of the broken bottle that impaled your flesh as you were thrown aside, the stranger parting from you with just four words,

“Consider this a warning.”

You don’t care how crazy you sound as you explain the bizarre events that occurred. You don’t care that his orbs are as blue and twice as deep as the mariana trench. You don’t care that for once, his eyes hold something other than just lust as he looks at you.

Your throat feels raw by the time you finish, and it hurts to look at his pitiful face so you roll onto your side, fixing your eyes on the shimmering celestial body outside your window. You both lay in silence for a while.

“I liked thinking of you as the moon at times.”

The calm in your voice startles Gojo, but he remains quiet, wanting you to continue. It doesn’t matter if it's gibberish, doesn't matter if it’s words of hatred, of doubt, of regret; he’ll take it as long as there’s something- as long as you’re speaking. His arms tremble around you a little as a bitter laugh escapes your chest.

“But at the end of the day,” you pause, taking a deep breath, “...all I am, is a mere star in a galaxy full of constellations.”

The raw sob that rips from your chest is a surprise to both you and Gojo.

“Tell me who cares about a star that burns out and explodes?” your voice is barely above a whisper as you turn around to face him.

For once in his life, Gojo Satoru can’t joke, fight or fuck his way out of a situation. A strange weight has been on his chest ever since he saw your eyes. The light and joy stripped out of them as he found himself staring back at his own reflection.

His eyes glance down at the dip of your collarbone, the arch of your shoulder that he wanted to reside in forever, now covered in small scars. He knows who hurt you.

He pulls you closer to him, tangling his feet with yours, the strip of metal around your ankle clinking at the movement. Perhaps it was a huge mistake to have bought you something so carelessly, knowing that the eyes of a few dozen enemies followed him wherever he went.

He finds himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melds his lips with yours. You sigh into his mouth and he kisses you even deeper, almost desperately as if trying to pass over his own breaths to you- as if trying to bring you back to life. He finds the taste of salt on his tongue and the wet drops falling onto his cheeks makes his flesh burn. He doesn't know whose they are as he continues to try and cling onto the shell of what was once a whole person.

“Please” he finds himself mumbling as he pulls you even closer, heart cracking as you continue sniffing into his chest.

“It hurts- it hurts- so much” You’re sobbing now, his own body shaking in tandem with yours.

Who is he to deny you when you look up at him, the broken plea leaving your mouth,

“Make it stop please.”

---

Gojo finds the cold metal of his own initials pressing against the side of his face as he hoists your legs over his shoulder. His fingers are pressing down against your sensitive nub, spreading around your slick before he pumps two of his fingers into you. You buck your hips up, cries escaping you as his tongue licks your clit, suctioning it into his mouth as he increases the pace of his fingers.

You’re cumming undone within seconds, begging him to fill you up. He’s never so easily given in to your demands, but tonight, it’s as if he’s only there to serve your wishes. The sickening thought of getting hurt again just so that you’d get this treatment creeps up in the back of your mind.

You moan as you feel him line his thick girth with your entrance, the tip catching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves as he rubs it between your dripping heat. He leans forward, pushing your legs up and safely tucking them against your chest, before crashing his lips against yours. It’s messy and rushed; tongue against tongue, spit drooling out as he pushes himself inside of you in one long stroke. The burn of it has you groaning into his mouth, hands moving to tangle into his hair. His thrusts are deep and angled, the feeling of it settling deep in your belly.

“Fuck- you look so-fucking-pretty underneath me like this”

His words of praise are muffled against your lips, further drowned out by your moans as one of his hands moves down to play with your clit. You’re screaming his name as the coil in your stomach snaps, his own restraint breaking as he finishes, painting your walls with his seed.

It’s not the first time you find yourself screaming and moaning that night. His cock is inside of you in one way or the other through the entirety of the next few hours- whether it be deep down your throat as his hands pull your hips down to his face, moaning at the taste of himself leaking from your cunt - or stretching the walls of your puckered asshole, the lube he pumped in with his slender fingers dripping out as he presses you to the shower wall, a hand coming forward to fondle your tits as his face falls onto your shoulder, grunting into your ear while he pistons in and out of your tight hole.

You can barely move a muscle by the time you’re done, body and mind numb from both the exhaustion and overstimulation as he pulls the covers over the two of you, limbs entangled with each other’s, skin against skin, his hands rubbing circles onto your spine.

“No one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

You’re barely conscious as he whispers that, humming and burying your face deeper into his cozy heat as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You do not notice the solemn drop of moisture that escapes his eye, falling onto your cheek, a thumb brushing it away just as quickly, as if it was never there. Just as he wishes he could brush away his own existence from your life- no- just as he was going to.

“...I promise.”

---

When your eyes flutter open, they are not met with the moon.

Instead, the light of the rising sun casts a rosy hue across your room. And for once, you do not feel cold as you spread out your legs to take more of the space on the expanse of your empty bed. The sunlight does not feel like a curse anymore, even if the nostalgia of the moon’s glow stays buried somewhere deep in your heart.

But at least there’s no more crying going to bed alone each night; no more hours of scrolling through social media looking for someone who doesn’t exist; no more one night stands and low grade hookups trying to fulfil the ever-growing void in your heart.

In fact, you find yourself going out more, singing along to songs in the shower once again, even making friends with a regular trio that starts coming into your bakery every other day. They told you they’re college students too, all around your age, and you find yourself smiling a little more than necessary at one of them, even if a pair of ocean eyes floods the back of your mind each time that you do. You’re still hurting and healing, but at least you are moving forward.

“At least he kept his promise” You find yourself thinking as you climb out of bed, sighing in disappointment at the clinking of charms around your ankle.

—-

“At least I kept my promise.”

It had become Gojo’s new-found mantra. Every time he saw you drunk out of your mind at a bar, deftly bribing the bartender to replace your ordered shots with water instead. Every time he saw a random body pressed to yours, their tongue exploring your sweet mouth as you pushed them into your apartment. And especially that one time he found himself standing over the half-beaten body of the man who had tried to grope you on the bus.

“At least I kept my promise- at least she’s safe.”

He knew his actions were of a mad man. Even though he took care of the problem which had hurt you in the first place, he still found himself paranoid. Following you around every other night, making sure you were still here- still alive under the same sky as him, under the same sun and moon and stars. He told himself he was doing it for you- even if he found his heart swell every time he saw the familiar glint of the silver trinket around your ankle.

-----

“No way!” You find yourself laughing around a mouth full of mochi.

“No- I swear he likes you, he just doesn't want to admit it, you know how he-”

“What are you two talking about?”

You both immediately snap your mouths shut as he returns from the restroom, sliding into the seat on his side of the booth.

“Nothing!” you reply in unison.

“Anyways, do you want me to get you anything else? Something that this idiot wouldn't shove into my mouth?” You joke, tapping your pen against the notepad.

“Hey! I just wanted you to taste how delicious the mochi was!”

“I know- I made it!”

A loud cough breaks your banter with the light haired boy,

“I-I do actually want to ask for something”

“Of course, what can I get you? The ginger tea you like?”

“Well- what I want is-” he pauses, and you don’t miss the mischievous glint in the eyes of his friend sitting across the table.

“I’d like to take you to the festival at the park.”

You’re halfway through writing it down on the notepad before you realise what he’s asked, your head snapping up to see the slightly flushed tint on his cheeks as he glares at the howling boy across the table. Your own face heats up as he looks towards you expectantly.

“You don’t have to if you-”

“Pick me up at 4”

“Oh” butterflies race in your stomach at the smile that he gives you, “...okay, 4 it is.”

------

Weeks go by and you don’t realise the slow mending of your heart. Your broken pieces coming together each time he holds your hand, each time he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, each time he whispers words of affirmations into your ear, and each time he comforts your shaking body, apologising for kissing your brow- even if he doesn’t understand why it made you cry.

Eventually, you learn to not mind being just a mere star in the vast expanse of the cosmo.

You didn’t care because he looked at you like you held the universe in your eyes, cradling your face with such gentleness as if you were precious china. You didn’t care because when his lips came down onto yours, it felt like the collision of stars- your own little supernovae in the curve of his cupid’s bow. You didn’t care because when you woke up, you’d find him peppering kisses across the purple constellations he left the night before.

You didn’t care because you never woke up cold and alone anymore.

------

“I’ll be back in just a second.”

You find yourself saying as you move your head off his lap, waving to your other two friends, their own counterparts lounging beside them.

“Is everything okay?’

He’s always so tender- except for when he has you splayed across the bed on your stomach, hips thrusting into yours as he tells you what a good slut you are for him- just for him. Heat crawls up your face at the memory from a few nights ago. The fingers wrapping your hand snap your mind out of its perverse refuge. Looking down, you find concern-filled eyes staring back at you.

“Yeah, I just want to take a walk alone by the beach- get some air.” You reply, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

The sound of the waves lapping against the shore in the dark and the fresh sea breeze on your face is refreshing. You make a mental note to thank Nobara for dragging you onto this trip. You stop as you find a cozy spot in the sand, giving you a perfect view of the moonlit sea.

You don’t know how long you sit there, thinking of a particular set of emerald eyes and long lashes, your smile faltering as the promise ring on your finger grazes the forgotten metal on your ankle. Your face remains neutral as you unhook it, even if it feels like cutting your own hand off, but that’s all there is to it - familiarity and nostalgia. There’s no blackhole in your chest, ready to open up and swallow you whole, there are no tears shed as you bury the piece of junk into the sand, and there is no looking back as you walk away, back into the arms of your precious ‘gumi.

Gojo stands at the rooftop, one hand clutching the sand covered jewellery, the other pulling down a side of his blindfold as he watches you entangle yourself in the arms of another, laughing as he places a kiss on the top of your brow. You’re happy, that’s all that matters- still, the irony of the situation pricks at him - especially after all he did to keep you away from his world.

He had initially found himself at a loss for words when you had told him that he was the moon, and you, just a star. If you were to ask him again, Gojo would agree, but with only half of it.

He may have been the moon, but you were a galaxy full of stars and planets that harboured dreams and wishes he could never fathom. His mind kept flickering back to the constellations he littered your body with as he now watched his own disciple press kisses into the crook of your neck.

Nonetheless, he found his own lips twitching upwards- almost tragically, but the warmth in his chest was real as he saw the joy on your face. You were right; he was the moon after all. He had shone as bright as the sun itself despite not having any light of his own. Now he stood there watching the same light reflect off the dark-haired boy who held you in his arms, and suddenly, it all made sense.

Perhaps he should have found another way back then. Perhaps he shouldn’t have underestimated his ability to be able to protect you. Perhaps-

it didn’t matter now.

perhaps at the end of the day, the moon was nothing but a dreamer.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo tw #gojo satoru headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen tw #jjk x you #gojo angst #megumi x reader #megumi smut #sukuna smut #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #toji fushiguro

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archerincombat · 3 years ago

Text

...i was following you

Buck thinks he could kiss this man. But the only thing that comes out is, “Are you a libertarian?”

Eddie’s face changes to one of horror. “Why would you even ask me that?” he demands. “Oh my God, Buck. What about me—please tell me what made you think I was a libertarian so that I can never do it again.”

2k | read on ao3 | (yes i am sorry)

Honestly, Buck doesn’t know as much about cryptocurrency as Ravi thinks he does.

He’s not unfamiliar with the concept. He knows that it makes you rich and lots of billionaires invest in it. Or maybe lots of people invest in it and then become billionaires or something. He knows that there’s something called Dogecoin that exists, somewhere on the internet. He knows that several of the people he follows on Twitter have funny animated icons as their profile picture, but only some of those mean anything.

He’s also rapidly figuring out that cryptocurrency is bad . Like, bad bad. He’s also learning, between Ravi’s irritated little pauses for breath, what market volatility is.

“And they’re terrible for the environment,” Ravi continues ranting. “Can you imagine powering, like, a bunch of computers for every second of every day just to store some information that may or may not ever be used in real life? That’s so stupid! The Amazon rainforest could be depleted because of fucking Logan Paul’s Pokemon card NFT.”

“Ravi,” Bobby suggests carefully. It sounds like he wants to say ‘Let’s all use our inside voices’. “Maybe you want to have this conversation when Buck doesn’t have a sharp object in his hand?” He motions towards the cutting board. “Also, I’d like to eat lunch in the next hour, if that’s okay with you.”

Ravi throws himself onto the couch with a groan, feet coming up to rest on the arm rest. “No one had a problem with sharp objects when Buck was chasing after me with a chainsaw.”

“For the last time,” Buck complains, chopping an onion with a little too much force. Hen looks between them as she climbs up the stairs, but she probably knows what they’re talking about. Ravi’s been on the topic ever since he got back onto A-shift after last week. “It was a misunderstanding!”

“It was a chainsaw.”

And yeah, Ravi’s got him there.

“This is your fault,” he mutters to Hen dramatically when she heads for the coffee pot. “If you hadn’t told him about what I said—I was just joking—”

“You called me middle-aged,” Hen replies, dead-pan. “I’m holding my grudge. I told Karen. She’s holding a grudge too.”

Buck groans. He has a habit of putting his own foot in his mouth these days—is trying too hard for Eddie and Maddie and Christopher that he slips up, a little, when it doesn’t concern those three. Maybe he’s taking it all a little bit for granted, but if there’s one thing he’s always been able to count on, it’s Hen. “But Ravi—”

“Ravi is correct,” Ravi interjects and then falters sheepishly when Bobby gives him a look. It’s almost like normal Ravi and political Ravi are two different people. “Sorry.” He shrugs. “At least you’re not a libertarian.”

For a second, Buck thinks Ravi just called him a lesbian. He frowns and crosses his arms. “I could be,” he says, and oh great now he’s got onion juice on his elbow. “If I wanted to.”

Hen rolls her eyes and Ravi opens his mouth to retort, that familiar gleam in his eyes that Buck’s begun to associate with words like, ‘Campaign Finance Reform’ and ‘Socioeconomic gentrification’. And Buck loves learning about a lot of stuff, really, but he feels like Ravi’s starting out with the assumption that he is at all able to name the three branches of government without consulting Wikipedia. So he’s very, very grateful when the alarm goes.

Lucy turns to him in the firetruck, and Buck thinks maybe he’ll get her to explain to him what a libertarian is because he’s pretty sure she already thinks the 118’s got a few screws loose anyway. But then she says, “You smell like onion,” and the moment just kind of escapes him.

read on ao3

tags: @berthulf @henwilsons @hetrez @kissyboytroye @dispatchersdiaz @1stbonesfan @polargypsy @whyisshesoromantic @itsbuckactually @buckbegns @himbodiaz @adamsparirsh @ravipanikar @fruitydiaz @dontknowwherethereis @bedhadakdiaz @theideaofhome @zaedabi @britishmysteries @lawyerlauren @moonn-liiight @sunshinediaz

#i need to be sedated fr fr #911fic #buddie #ravi panikkar #evan buckley #eddie diaz

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little-diable · 3 years ago

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Promises - Spencer Reid (smut)

It's been a while since I've last written for our pretty boy. I'm not in the right head space at the moment, so this is more on the sweeter side. This is unedited. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: As Spencer and the reader are being kidnapped, forced into a dark room, they think back to their first kiss together. A kiss they share once again as they are saved by the team.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (f), breeding kink, mentions being kidnapped and being held hostage

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

“Listen to me.” Spencer had his hand pressed against her cheek, and while she tried to rip her bound together hands free, she felt herself slowly relaxing. And all because of his gentle touch.

Both had been sitting in this dark room for what felt like hours, without their phones or their guns, forced to sit still as their kidnappers were doing god knows what.

“We will make it out alive, we always do, don’t we?” (Y/n) could only nod her head with her glassy eyes set on Spencer. “Do you remember our first kiss?”

The bar was crowded, (y/n) struggled to make it through the crowd with the three drinks in her hands. People bumped against her, and while she tried to keep her hands steady, Spencer was studying her every move.

“Why don’t you just kiss her?” Emily’s drunken giggles were met with a sigh spilling from Spencer’s lips. He didn’t turn towards her, kept his eyes focused on a nearing (y/n).

“C’mon, pretty boy. Do you need some more tips?” Morgan slung his arm around Spencer's shoulder, but the man could only shake his head no, forced to avert his gaze as (y/n) found her way to their booth.

“Here, let me.” Spencer reached for the drinks she struggled to carry, and with a slight smile tugging on his lips, he made some space for her to sit down next to him. She searched his body, wanted to sit close as she tried to forget about the people bumping into her and the nightmares of the last week haunting her.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer’s hand found (y/n)‘s, no longer did he care about the others, about their teasing, purely focused on her.

“I am, thank you, Spence’. But I think I’ll go home now, I’m way too tired.” He could only watch as she drowned the rest of her drink, and with the alcohol burning down her throat she rose from her seat.

“Wait, I’ll come with you.” He didn’t like the idea of her wandering around late at night - even though Spencer was well aware that she could take care of herself just fine. She didn’t protest, didn’t even reply, she only squeezed his hand and allowed him to pull her out of the crowded bar.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right? You could have stayed with the team.” But Spencer only smiled at her as if she was the sun rising on the dark horizon, as if he was feeling her warmth for the first time in years. He’d always stick to her, forever, if she’d let him.

“Are you cold?” Forced to remember all the “tips” Morgan has given him over the past months, Spencer noticed her shivering, how she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. And as his question was met with a nod of her head, he shrugged out of his jacket, placed it on her shoulders and wrapped his arm around her waist.

The all too familiar touch felt all too unfamiliar to the two of them at that very moment. But neither (y/n) nor Spencer dared to speak up as they wanted to relish in one another’s warmth.

No other words were spoken on their way to her home, there was no need to anyways, they were content with the silence engulfing them, it allowed (y/n) to focus on the feeling of his arm holding her tight like he was scared that she’d vanish in front of his eyes and Spencer could prepare himself for the kiss he wanted to share with her.

“Thank you, Spence’. I hope you know how much I appreciate you.” They came to a halt in front of her door, she shrugged out of his jacket and now, as it was her turn to place it on his shoulders, their fronts were pressed together, closer than ever before. Their eyes flickered to their mouths and for just a second (y/n) started to lean in.

At least, till her mind screamed at her to stop, scared that she’d do something Spencer didn’t want or wasn’t prepared for. But before she could pull away even further, Spencer placed his hand on her cheek - just like Morgan had taught him - he pulled her closer and pressed his lips against hers.

They could taste their drinks on one another’s lips, could taste the biting evening air nibbling on their skin. But most importantly, they could taste the love they felt for one another.

“I do. I was so nervous.” A smile tugged on her lips as the memories replayed themselves in her mind. How she longed to feel his lips pressed against hers in that very moment, how she longed to touch him. But her bound together hands kept her from moving, forced to sit still with only her memories keeping her company.

“I’ve known from the moment you’ve introduced yourself to me that I will marry you one day.” His awfully sweet confession was drowned out by another memory finding its way to (y/n).

It was still early in the morning as Spencer woke her with kisses pressed to her cheeks, her nose and her lips. It was still early in the morning as Spencer kissed his way down her throat, to her naked chest. It was still early in the morning as (y/n) woke with his name bleeding from her lips and her eyes finding his twinkling ones.

“Good morning.” Her slightly slurred words were met with a chuckle rumbling through Spencer. His hands were teasing the outlines of her panties, he wanted to give her a few more moments to wake up before he’d go down on her. But impatient as one could be, (y/n) groaned his name, hoping that he’d start properly touching her.

“Shh, I got you, darling.” The blanket found its way to the floor, followed by her panties. And with Spencer settled between her thighs, he pushed her into the sweetest sensation known to humankind.

Carefully he brushed his tongue through her slit, up to her pulsing clit and down to her entrance. He teased her, teased her as if they had all time this day could offer - which they certainly didn’t have.

“Fuck, feels so good, need your fingers, please.” Her begging urged him on, and with two of his fingers disappearing inside her heat, he coaxed a relieved moan out of her. He was commanding her body to follow his every movement, to give into his touch like a mad composer conducting an orchestra without finding the right notes to play. And even though their movements were rushed - set on a time limit - the symphony sounded sweeter than ever before.

Spencer wrapped one arm around her thigh to keep her close, he wanted to hold onto her, wanted to support her as she moaned his name and arched her back. She was close, would cum all too soon with his fingers fucking her and his rough tongue brushing against her clit.

“I’m so close, fuck, don’t stop.” And he didn’t, he kept on pushing her closer to the edge, till she gave in. (Y/n) came with his name burning on her lips, she had to bury her hand in his hair, had to hold onto him before she’d pass out from the intense feeling. Only as her orgasm slowly let go of her, did Spencer pull away from his panting girlfriend.

“Good morning, my love.” He was staring at her with something special twinkling in his eyes, something she couldn’t put her name on. And as he was sitting there, he felt everything click. It made sense, all of it, like an equation he had finally solved, like another case finally able to rest. It was him and her. Forever.

“Will you marry me?” The words spilled from his lips before he could stop himself. For a second nothing but silence could be heard, a silence that was broken with a cry and a “yes” rumbling through (y/n).

“I love you and I hope you know that no matter what will happen, I will always love you.” For a moment her throat began to tighten up, their eyes met in the darkness and once again they tried to rip on their chains, though without any luck. Spencer’s free hand found her cheek once again, a silent gesture that left her heart fluttering.

“I’ve always feared being stuck in a situation like this.” It was nothing more than a whisper, but the sound left her heart aching.

“Being kidnapped?” It wasn’t the first time Spencer was living through something like this and it probably wasn’t the last time either, but nevertheless, she found herself praying that he’d never have to be stuck like this again.

“Being kidnapped with you, I’d always give my life for yours. But knowing that there’s a fifty percent chance of them hurting you instead of me … it makes me feel anxious.” The words kept spluttering from his lips, she could hear his mind screaming at him, it kept dumping percentages, equations and different scenarios on him, set on distracting himself from the numb feeling in his hand.

“Hey, look at me, Spence’.” (Y/n) took a deep breath, she had to sort through her thoughts, and even though she felt just as confused and scared as he did, she tried to keep herself from giving into the emotions. “It will be okay, the team will find us and then we’ll go back home. I promise.”

Both knew that promises in situations like these weren’t smart, they had lived through and had been trained for this, nevertheless, all the theoretical bullshit she had been forced to read, was long forgotten. This was more real than any scenario known to the books, this was their reality, and not just some training they could stop with a snap of their fingers.

“We should take the rest of the week off, maybe we can drive somewhere and stay out of the city for a few nights.” He started to ramble once again, already making plans for upcoming hours and days, till he was interrupted by somebody screaming their names. An all too familiar voice that put a smile on both of their faces.

****

“Being kidnapped is overly exhausting, I need some sleep.” A yawn rumbled through her as she plopped down on their bed. But Spencer pulled her back to her feet before she could even try and fall asleep.

“We both need a shower.” He picked her up and carried her into the bathroom. And with (y/n) pressed against his chest, he started undressing her. Carefully Spencer undid her blouse, he helped her out of her trousers and her underwear.

(Y/n) stepped into the shower as Spencer shrugged out of his clothes, exposing more and more of his skin to her tired eyes. Even though the past hours have felt like torture, forced to stay awake, her heart began to race as if this was the first time she’d get to see every part of his skin.

Their lips met the second Spencer joined her in the shower, he pulled her closer with his hands wandering up and down her sides, till they came to rest on her waist. Wordlessly she shifted her weight onto her toes, hoping that he’d never stop kissing her, a silent promise he was swearing to keep. And this time both knew that a promise made in a situation like this one was meant to last.

“Love me, please.” Her whispers vibrated on his swollen lips, wordlessly he pushed her against the shower tiles, he held her close as his hand found its way to her core. She was dripping for him, wasn’t even focused on her own pleasure, all (y/n) needed was to feel him close, to hold him while he’d connect their bodies in the most intimate way possible.

His cock began to harden, anticipation flooded through the panting man, he couldn’t wait to feel her wrapped around his cock, couldn’t wait to bury himself inside of her with her name rumbling through him like a spoken fact about the sun, the universe or even dark matter. A fact burned into his mind like her name spoken in a desperate moment.

With his hand holding her thigh, he brushed his tip through her slit, and with her arousal sticking to his skin he pushed into her. Their moans were drowned out by the pouring water, silenced like their cries back in the dark room.

Carefully Spencer pulled out of her, only to push into her more ferociously. They began to mold their bodies together, one with their hearts and bodies connected, forever till their bond would end with death calling them home. An end to an era full of love, of endless forgiveness and moments that left them both trembling.

“I love you.” The words rumbled through the bathroom, it rolled off Spencer’s tongue like a cry breaking through the silence and only pushed her closer to her lover. She kissed him with her emotions guiding her movements, didn’t give her the time to reply to his sweet words as she kept on kissing him with her heart roaring in her chest.

The cold shower tiles pressed against her back with every thrust, Spencer was fucking her with his mind set on their marriage, their love and the endless hours they’d spent beneath their blankets. No longer were they focused on the past hours, no longer were they trembling in fear but from the arousal buzzing through their veins.

“Cum inside of me, please Spence’, fill me up.” For just a second his pace began to falter, he hadn't expected those words to roll off her tongue, not after the day they’ve been forced to live through. But he couldn’t stop his smile from turning into a smirk, and with his thoughts focused on a possible pregnancy, he picked his pace up once again.

“‘Want me to fill you up? Fuck, I can’t wait to see you carrying my child.” His hand found its way to her stomach, he added some pressure to the spot, could almost feel his cock brushing against her stomach as he kept on fucking her.

(Y/n) gave in with a “yes please” leaving her, pushed into her orgasm by the thought of being filled up by Spencer and his cum painting her walls white. He fucked her through her high, kissed her throat with his teeth grazing her skin, and as her walls squeezed his cock, he gave in. His heat streamed through her, it stuck to her walls, forever perpetuated inside of her.

And in those moments, with their hearts racing and their smiles widening, everything was finally okay again.

#Spencer Reid smut #chi's lemon #Spencer Reid imagine

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jammiedodgerkisses · 3 years ago

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early - eleven

an // ah first doctor who fic, i really enjoyed writing this! and oh how i am enamored with tenth companion reader meeting eleven. anyways hope you enjoy some fluff!

wc // 800+

The TARDIS whirred behind you as it blinked away to who knows where, the Doctor probably didn’t have an exact destination in mind. You take a deep breath, you almost forgot how lovely the fresh morning air was outside your home. As much as you absolutely adored travelling with the Doctor and you felt as if your real home was by his side, you did enjoy the warmth that surrounded you when you unlocked your door.

As per your home visit routine, you jump to water all your plants, open the fridge at the greatest distance you possibly could to check if anything had expired and throw some laundry in the wash.

A soft sigh escaped your lips when you finally melted into the impossibly comfortable cushions of your couch. You ponder a moment, was it worth the effort to turn the kettle on for a cup of tea? Your eyelids felt heavier and heavier as the seconds passed. Slouching to lay on your side you decide against anything but sleep.

An enthusiastic knock on your door made you jump up. Quickly rubbing the sleep from your eyes you make a wobbly run to the door.

The moment you open it up all you can see is a blur of a brunette-haired man wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. Before you could make a move to push away and see who on earth it was, the stranger did exactly that only to pull you into a kiss.

You didn’t have time to gasp or blink before you were dipped as the kiss continued.

“Sorry dear, I just couldn’t resist!”

Stumbling backward after he let you go, you finally get a good look at the man. Floppy hair pushed to one side, a bright boyish grin planted on his face and hands that were adjusting his bowtie.

“Somethings wrong.” he stated “Oh I wasn’t late again was I? Or did I get here right after dropping you off again?”

He continued the ramble, you watched him with wide eyes. He couldn’t have the wrong house, he was talking as if he knew you -he kissed you- but definitely didn’t recognize him.

“I- ah…” words just couldn’t seem to get out of your mouth properly “who exactly are you?”

That stopped his waterfall of words. He crouched and eyed you with an unreadable expression. A familiar sonic sound flooded the air alongside a very unfamiliar green light blinded you for a moment.

“Oh no. No no no” the man jumped backwards “it’s much too early in your timestream. You haven’t met this face yet”

And then it clicked. A sonic screwdriver with a new look. ‘Haven’t met this face yet.’

“Doctor?”

His face quickly went from one of worry to a lopsided smile.

He clapped, smile still bright. “Brilliant. Clever as ever (y/n)! Sorry for the scare, at least this means I wasn’t late. Just a little too early.”

A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks as you replayed what happened with the knowledge that the strange man who had just kissed you, was the Doctor.

“Y-you kissed me!” You squeaked.

“Of course! Oh no of course,” he replied, a light blush making its way to his cheeks as well. “ We've never done that before then?” You shake your head ‘no’ not trusting your voice. The Doctor rubbed his hands together. He likes to keep his hands moving, you note. New face, new quirks.

One of his hands rubs at his cheek “Right then.” he coughed “I should get back to the right time. You are waiting for me, we’ve got a date involving cocktails and the moon- oh bad Doctor-” he slapped his hands over his mouth “I can’t go off spouting about your future. You probably know too much already…”

You smile watching him as he rubs the base of his neck.

“I look forward to it!”

He grinned. Oh, you could see how you fell for this version of the Doctor as much as the one you travelled with now.

He gently placed his hands on the sides of your head and planted a quick kiss on your forehead. Pulling back you watch his eyes move quickly as he scanned your face, this face is easier to read and you can tell he’s trying to think what to say.

“I can’t wait for us to meet for the first time again”

And with that, he was off.

#doctor who x reader #doctor who x you #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x you

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linorachas · 4 years ago

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for the weekend. | bang chan

⁍ pairing — bang chan x reader ⁍ genre — fluff & smut ⁍ word count — 4.8k words ⁍ details — established relationship, producer!chan, choreographer!reader, lots of cuddles and kissing, oral (m. receiving), dirty talk, d/s undertones, mention of the word “cockslut”, chan worship, you’re both really in love ⁍ a/n — hello! i’m a new writing blog for skz. :D this is my first work here, so i’d love to hear your thoughts. i accept criticism, but please be nice i am trying my best ㅠㅠ part 2 is here! thank you to everyone who let me know that they wanted a part 2! ♥️ ⁍ summary — After a long week of hard work, you finally spend a weekend with Chan.

Friday - 2:03 am

Your footsteps are light and quick as you rush down the hall, duffel bag bumping against your back as it bounces from your movements.

You were sweaty, sticky, and overall about to pass out, but there was a wide grin on your face once you stopped in front of a very familiar studio door.

You had just finished helping create a choreography for an idol group, a whole day of repeating dance moves and drawing positions on papers.

Your out was supposed to be at 7, but you had done overtime with the intent to clear your schedule tomorrow. You would have to do overtime on Monday again, but that didn’t matter right now.

All that matters was the boy behind this door who was working just as hard as you are.

Inside, Chan was hunched over his desk, headphones in, hand cramping as he furiously jots down some notes.

He wasn’t required to stay in, no, he could’ve left hours ago and be asleep right now. But going home without you always bothered him, so he had decided to stay until his girlfriend was finished.

He knew you felt the same, though. You once told him that you would just be tossing and turning in bed if you went home without him. When the tables are turned and he was the one doing the overtime, you would doze on a chair beside him while he worked, or spend some time at the studio yourself.

Chan had checked the time just a few minutes ago, and he knew that you were already on your way here. Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of starting on a new project while waiting, so it would bother him if he left this unfinished while he rested at home.

So now he was cramming, rushing to finish at least a draft.

You, on the other side of the door, didn’t bother with knocking, and just pushed the door open slowly.

Your eyes immediately find your boyfriend’s busy form; Chan’s hair was covered by a reversed snapback, basketball short clad legs tucked Indian style on top of his chair.

You feel a tug on your heartstrings as you watch Chan work hard for the sake of a free day tomorrow, a free day for you two.

You smile at the way Chan taps the pen on the desk to an unfamiliar beat or taps it to the snapback on his head, before going back to writing again.

Chan also does these annoyed puffs of breath every few seconds, something you found to be very endearing ever since the first day you met.

When Chan groans in frustration, you finally walk inside and shut the door behind you, dropping your duffel bag on the floor.

Chan freezes and stops writing when he feels arms wrapping around his neck, but the feeling is immediately gone when his brain registers that it’s his baby.

You press small close mouthed kisses on Chan’s cheek before you nuzzle your head against the crook between Chan’s neck and shoulder, and a smile blooms on Chan’s face.

“Sorry,” Chan mutters, yanking his earphones down when you stop kissing him and pull away. You don’t answer. Instead, you remove Chan’s snapback from his head and card your fingers through his hair gently.

Chan sighs contentedly, eyes slipping shut as he leans his head back on the chair, following the flow of your fingers. He opens his eyes again when you lean down and press a kiss to his lips,

his nose,

and then his forehead.

You grin at him, and despite being in an unflattering upside down angle, Chan thinks you look absolutely gorgeous like this.

Barefaced, happy, and in love.

“It’s okay, Channie,” you finally say, after seconds of just gazing at each other lovingly passes. “I know you’re doing it for our vacation, anyway.”

Chan lets out a small laugh as you fix the cap back on his head. “It’s just two days, baby.”

“Two days of sleeping, eating, and maybe some sex? I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a heavenly vacation to me.” You babble unashamedly, hands sliding down Chan’s torso to massage his pecs— making him squirm and laugh— before you slide them up again to massage his shoulder joints.

Chan sighs as he lets the feeling of your fingers relieving the aches wash over him, but then he catches sight of the mess of papers on his desk, and a frustrated frown replaces his smile.

“Will you wait for me?” Chan asks hopefully. Though deep inside, he kind of already knew the answer.

Still, his heart starts to beat too fast and his stomach fills with too many butterflies when you wrap your arms around his neck again, pressing your cheek against Chan’s own as you mutter, “of course. You know I always will.”

And then you seal the promise with a kiss. Chan pretends he doesn’t chase after your lips when you pull away.

He goes back to work with you still wrapped around him, and after a few moments, you start to shift. Chan’s free hand quickly darts up to your arms that are slowly loosening, so you stay still, alarmed.

“Stay.” Chan mumbles distractedly, eyes darting hurriedly across the papers. It’s selfish, yes, making you stand behind him for God knows how long, but Chan had always worked better when you were this close.

You would have seen the embarrassed blush that dotted across Chan’s cheeks if you weren’t so flustered yourself, hiding your face in Chan’s shoulder blades again when you fail to suppress a wide grin.

So you busy yourself with basking in Chan’s warmth instead, squeezing Chan tight every once in a while just to see him squirm and attempt to glare at you.

Suddenly, all your sore muscles from dancing were gone, and you were content to stand behind your boyfriend for as long as he wanted you to.

When Chan is finally finished and you’ve shut off all the lights, locked the door and gathered all your belongings— Chan throws an arm around your shoulder while you wrap your own arm around your boyfriend’s waist.

You both giggle, talk in stage whispers, and stumble down the corridor like drunken fools despite being completely sober. You hold onto each other like it was your last time to do so, as if you were reassuring yourselves that the other is still there.

For extra measure, Chan presses his lips against your temple, whispering a sweet “I love you, Y/N. So so, so much.” that only the two of you could hear as you go out into the cold night, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

The streetlights look like stars in his eyes, and you ask yourself again how lucky you are to have fallen in love with Bang Chan.

Saturday - 2:54 pm

3:16 am, you and Chan are pressed against each other as you settle into a deep sleep, blankets tucked around your bodies to shield yourselves from the cold.

4:23 am, you accidentally kick the blanket off the bed, leaving the both of you exposed to the cold temperature of the room. You shiver in your sleep.

Chan wakes up long enough to grumble about the blanket and do a half assed search around the room, just to end up pulling you closer to his chest and wrap both his arms around you. It doesn’t do much for Chan himself, but you stop shivering then, so Chan falls back asleep with a smile on his face.

8:44 am, Chan’s phone rings. The ringtone almost rivals Chan’s snores, and the combination of the two sounds force you to wake up, annoyed. Chan was in the middle of the bed, arms and legs splayed out, while you were on top of him, cheek pressed against his chest.

You only have the energy to lift your head up, glare at the sun peeking from behind the curtain and at Chan’s phone, before you drop your head back on Chan’s chest heavily, startling the said boy awake.

Chan stops mid snore and the sound is so funny that you feel a smile tug on your lips, but then his phone rings again.

“Yah, Chan-ah,” you whine, wiggling upwards to bury your face in Chan’s neck. “Make it stop.”

“Sorry babe,” Chan groans, trying to blink the sleep away from his eyes as he cups the back of your head. His free hand reaches for his phone on the nightstand, pressing it to his ear after 3 sad attempts of hitting the answer button.

Your hearing is muffled because of your position and Chan’s hand covering your head, and you only manage to hear a “no, no, we can’t, we’re sleeping in. Sorry Bin,” before you drown out the conversation entirely, the vibrations of Chan’s voice lulling you back to sleep.

Finally, at 2:54 pm, you wake up again, but this time you’re really awake.

Your stomach is grumbling and you’re so hungry it‘s starting to hurt. You try to move, but find yourself unable to because of the limbs restricting from doing so.

This time, one of Chan’s legs is on top of you, covering your lower half entirely. Chan’s head is lying on the pillow, and there’s drool on his chin and it’s gross, so you use the sleeve of your shirt to wipe it quickly. Thankfully he didn’t drool on your hair.

Chan’s holding your other arm to his own chest as if it was a teddy bear, his body curled into your side snugly. When you lean back slightly to take a proper look at him, Chan’s nose twitches like a rabbit and the grip on your arm tightens. You snort.

“Chan. Channie,” you mutter before you bury your face in Chan’s hair, squeezing the sleeping boy in an attempt to wake him up gently.

Chan lets out a grunt, but doesn’t do much to prove he’s really awake. You sigh.

What the hell are you supposed to do now?

It takes you more than a few attempts, but you finally release your arm from Chan’s grip. However, just when you were about to start working on his leg, Chan suddenly slips his own arm under you, turning you over so you end up on top of him again. He does it so easily that it startles you, cheeks burning red at the sudden display of strength.

“It’s our day off, give me one more hour.” Chan grumbles. He was still half asleep so most of his sentence was incoherent, but if anyone was an expert in sleepy Chan language, it was you.

You glance at the wall clock on the other side of the room, grimacing once you realize why you were starving. “Shit. We really wasted the whole day away by sleeping, dude. It’s 3 pm.”

“Stop calling me dude.” He huffs. “And it’s a vacation, Y/N. Let me sleep. Let us sleep.”

You pout when you get your own words thrown back at you, and then it’s as if Chan has a sixth sense for your pouting, because he’s suddenly lifting his head up to press a kiss to your chin, eyes still closed.

You’re guessing he was aiming for your lips, but he was fighting a hard battle between properly kissing you and falling back asleep. It was endearing.

“Love you,” Chan mutters groggily, and was about to drop his head back on the pillow when you stop him with a proper kiss to the lips. It’s a very awkward angle, but you both blush and giggle as if it’s your first kiss.

“Mmmmhm,” Chan pulls away after a few seconds of close mouthed kisses, eyes now blinking open as he frowns at you. “Don’t kiss me. Morning breath.”

You giggle, leaning up on your elbows to take a proper look at him, heart squeezing at the way his lips were pouted. His bed head looked like a bird’s nest and his eyes were swollen. You couldn’t resist pressing another peck to his lips at the sight.

“But I just did.” You grin, cupping Chan’s cheek as you press small, rapid kisses on his face. “Besides, it’s afternoon.”

Chan rolls his eyes, pretending as if he wasn’t chasing your lips with every kiss. And you giggle again, because you were giddy that Chan is finally awake and you were in love with him, and those two don’t really connect, but whatever.

Barely a minute passes before Chan’s eyes start to slip shut again, and it’s only then that you realize you’ve been running your hand through your boyfriend’s hair unconsciously.

“The day’s over, anyway,” Chan places a hand at the back of your head, gently leading you to his neck. He presses a kiss to your forehead then yawns, fingernails scratching your scalp gently to lure you into going back to sleep. “Let’s just stay in bed.”

And you, you were so tempted to say yes, especially with how warm and comfortable you were in the love of your life’s arms, but then your stomach starts to wail like a dying animal, and both you and Chan wince.

“Chan-“

“I heard it.”

You laugh, a loud, refreshing sound that makes Chan’s heart pump wildly, and you feel his lips form into a smile when he presses a kiss to your forehead again, longer this time.

Chan then wraps both of his arms around your waist, turning you both over to the side. Your arms come up to lock around Chan’s neck, and your eyes meet when you look up.

Chan’s eyes were twinkling, and you’re not so sure if it’s because of the light behind you.

“Hello,” Chan says casually, and you make a sound between huffing and laughing.

“Will you at least let me go so I can make breakfast?”

“It’s already afternoon,” Chan half-heartedly reasons, his arms tightening around you as he leans down to press another kiss to your nose.

“Breakfast time is any time. Whoever thinks otherwise should be jailed.”

Chan ignores you, busy pressing a few more pecks to your cheeks, nudging your nose with his own.

You whine. “Come on, baby. You need to eat. I know you’re hungry too.”

And Chan is, but he doesn’t want to leave the bed yet. He’s not pouting, he swears he isn’t, but he knows he’s making a face because you were smiling all amusedly at him again, like you were surprised he was acting this way.

Who could blame him, really? He had a whole day off, a beautiful girl in his arms, and unlimited kisses to give and receive. Why would he leave this warm bubble without a fight?

Chan tightens his grip and rolls again, and you were getting out of breath from laughing and trying to push him away. Your boyfriend pins you down on the bed, holding your hands above your head and intertwining your fingers together.

“Hello,” Chan says again, grinning down at your flushed face.

The sudden displays of strength kept catching you off guard, and your face was reddening for a multitude of reasons.

“Hi,” you reply, albeit breathlessly, and you tilt your head up as a way of asking for a kiss.

Chan leans down slowly, too slowly for your liking, so you groan loudly. Chan laughs but finally presses your lips together, subconsciously loosening his grip on your hands. You free them from his grasp to cup his cheeks.

You can feel Chan smile against your own lips, and you only go as far as nibbling on the other’s bottom lip before you decide something and push him back.

“Y/N,” Chan whines, chasing after you again, but you stop him with a finger to his chest and a quick peck to the lips. He stops, clearly confused.

You push him back further, making him fall onto his side. He seems to catch on when you start straddling him, knees on other sides of his hips.

“Oh.” Chan gapes, eyes blinking up at you stupidly. You laugh.

“Yeah, oh.”

You drag the hem of his shirt up, deliberately scratching your nails against the hard muscles of his abs. Chan groans at that, hips bucking up involuntarily.

As he busies himself with taking his shirt off properly, you start to press open mouthed kisses down his chest, tongue laving against the prominent lines of his stomach. You start sucking near the navel, leaving a big, deep purple hickey that contrasts heavily against his pale white skin.

Chan hadn’t said anything since you started, but he was leaning back on his elbows, dark eyes following your every move. You felt the way his eyes followed the curve of your body as you adjusted to kneeling so you could move further down, making you shiver. It was almost like he was touching you with how intense his stare was. But his hands stayed at his sides, calm and waiting to strike.

You knew that would change soon.

There was already a noticeable bulge by the time you got down to his crotch, making you bite back a smile. You know Chan could feel your amusement because he uses his feet to tickle you at your side, making you laugh.

“Get on with it, pretty.” His tone was playful, but his hooded eyes were saying otherwise.

You listened obediently though, because at the end of the day, all you really wanted was to be good for Chan. All you wanted was to pleasure him, to make him feel good, to let him know that you wanted him to be happy.

And if a mindblowing orgasm from a morning wood blowjob was the way to success… well.

You don’t waste any time in taking off his boxers, desperate to see the cock you loved. It wasn’t a secret that you were a bit of a cockslut, but it was technically Chan’s fault. When he slid his cock in you the first time and made you cum so hard you almost passed out, you were ruined for anybody else ever.

You loved him inside you, loved him pounding so deep into you you felt the head of his cock in your cervix, and also loved him when he took it slow and let you feel every inch— every vein that lined along his fat cock. You loved when you were at his mercy.

But you also loved when you had that same cock in your mouth, filling you all the way to your throat. You were guessing you had a bit of an oral fixation, since sometimes you craved the weight of it at random times of the day. You just wanted his cock in your mouth, and you knew Chan was more than happy to oblige.

Chan’s sizeable cock slapped up against his stomach when you finally took away its confines, precum smearing against his skin. Chan’s fingers tighten against the sheets when you lean forward and kitten-licked that same precum off, his cock bumping against your cheek.

“Baby,” he exhaled, brows furrowing. “Are you playing games right now?”

“No,” you answer, but as soon as the word left your mouth, you flattened your tongue and licked a thick stripe up at the side of his cock, making Chan groan and throw his head back.

You swirl your tongue around the angry purple tip of his cock, letting his precum coat your tongue. But you don’t swallow it, not yet. You let the liquids fall back onto his cock, using it as lubricant for your hand that comes up to stroke him.

Chan grunted, bucking up into the tight space of your hand as his head lolled forward. He watches you with lidded eyes, and you tilt your head so he could feel the hot exhale of your breath on his cock. Predictably, you felt it twitch.

A hand comes to cup the back of your head, and you look up through your lashes to see Chan licking his lips and swallowing.

“Come on,” he urges, hand sliding down to tilt your head up. He slides his thumb into your mouth and your lips close around it immediately, sucking. Chan shudders. “Be good for me.”

And you obey.

As soon as Chan’s thumb slipped out of your mouth, you replaced it with his cock, tongue flattening as you took half of him in your mouth. Your lips stretched obscenely, Chan’s girth and length stretching your mouth to its limits.

But instead of deterring you, it only made you moan. You already felt so full even if you hadn’t taken his entire cock in your mouth yet, almost gagging when you felt the tip nudge the back of your throat. Your eyes flick up, watching as Chan’s jaw tightened, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

You bob your head up and down slowly, understanding that Chan was letting you take the lead. His hand stayed cupped at the back off your head, a reassuring constant as you did your best to breathe through your nose.

The slick sounds your mouth was making echoed along with Chan’s muttered curses in your quiet room, the only other sound being the traffic outside.

“Shit. Shit,” Chan exhaled, chest heaving. He was always much more sensitive in the morning. “Your mouth, baby. That fucking mouth.”

And much more noisier.

“So good for me.” Chan whispers, voice rough and heated. He brushes the back of his hand against your hollowed cheeks, then cards his fingers through your hair so he could see your face properly. “Look at you, my cock in your mouth first thing in the morning. What a sight.”

You moan at his words, and the vibrations that come from your throat make him twitch in your mouth. Chan refrains from bucking his hips, but he slips up sometimes when gets too lost in the pleasure. There’s an apology on his lips every time, but you shut him up quickly with a harsh suck to his throbbing cock.

You know he’s close when the twitching gets more frequent and his thighs start tensing around your head, his hand going from tugging on your hair instead of just resting there. Chan gets quieter as well, his nasty praises trailing off to grunts and broken moans.

Your jaw was aching, but the quiet gasps of your name spurs you on more than you’d like to admit. Because as much as you loved to be under Chan’s mercy, something about him losing his mind over your mouth and saying your name like it was his last prayer did things to you. The slick heat between your legs reminded you of it.

His pleasure was your pleasure.

You’re forcibly pulled off when Chan tugs your head back, and you’re just about to complain when Chan suddenly sits up and grabs his cock with his free hand, keeping the tip of it in your mouth.

“Look at me.” He hisses, and you obey immediately.

You look up at him through your lashes, suckling at the head of his cock as much as he let you. He jerks himself off quickly, using your spit as lube and groaning at the lewd sight of your lips wrapped around him and the feeling of your tongue insistently brushing against the underside of his cock.

“I’m gonna cum, baby, shit-“ he grunts through gritted teeth, and you squirm as you watch his abs and arms flex with each movement.

Chan had his head thrown back now, sweat dripping down his throat and his pale skin reddening as he got closer and closer to his release.

“I’m gonna cum in this pretty mouth. This perfect mouth, only mine to use, hm? Just mine and mine alone, fuck- god, fuck!“

You tug Chan’s hand away and swallow his cock down your mouth again as soon as the first spurt of his cum hits your tongue, making him flinch.

He’s clearly torn between tugging your head away due to the oversensitivity, or pushing his cock farther down your mouth. His hand flexes in your hair, unsure of what to do.

You decide for him.

Your throat works against him, struggling to swallow his cum and keep his cock in your mouth at the same time. You were determined to milk his whole orgasm out of him, and you weren’t going to stop until he was dry and shaking. The moans Chan lets out this time are almost close to whimpers as he falls back against the mattress, hips bucking uselessly.

“Y/N,” he whines, gasping for breath, and you rub your hands up and down his hips to ground him. You clean him up slowly, aware that the oversensitivity must be bordering on pain now.

Chan groans, arms coming up to hide his reddened face. “Baby, enough, please. Come here, come up, I want a kiss. Please.”

You bite back a smile as you pull off his cock, sucking one last hickey to his navel and reveling in his stuttered moan. You crawl up the bed slowly, kissing the exposed part of Chan’s chin; the only area that wasn’t covered by his arms.

“Good?” You ask, sitting on his stomach now.

“Good?” He squawks, disbelief written all over his face when he pulls his arms away. His face was still red, as well as the upper parts of his chest. “Good?! You- god, I can’t believe you. Come here, you little minx.”

He growls, pulling you into a bruising kiss. Your hands come up to cup his cheeks again, moaning as he bit on your lips and sucked on your tongue like a starving man. Chan’s hands grope your breasts through your shirt, thumbing your slowly hardening nipples and making you squirm.

When he pulls away from the kiss and trails his lips down your neck, his hands move lower as well. He hooked his thumbs in your shorts, one second from pulling them down and having his way with you. But-

Speaking of starving.

“Channie,” you whine, stopping his hands. He freezes immediately, pulling back to look at you. Concern was written all over his face, and you would have cooed if you didn’t have more pressing matters at hand.

You frowned. “I’m really hungry.”

Chan gapes at you, stunned. He blinks rapidly, eyes going from your frowning face to his hands by your shorts. “I- are you- do you not want me to return the favor? You just gave me the best orgasm of my life.”

You snort, knowing he was exaggerating, but Chan looked dead serious. You roll your eyes then, locking your lips in a heated kiss again for a few seconds to satiate your needy boyfriend. You keep your forehead pressed together when you pull back slightly to look in his dazed eyes, still filled with want.

You drag the tip of your index finger across his lip, smirking. “I’ll make you a deal. If you put some food in my stomach, I promise I’ll let you fuck me six ways to sunday.” You grind down, making him hiss. “It’s been too long since you made me cry, no?”

Chan’s eyes darkened. You licked your lips.

But then, the next thing you know, the world was upside down, and you were being carried outside your bedroom over your boyfriend’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Bang Chan!” You squeak, heart pounding wildly in your chest. “Put me down, you crazy idiot! What the hell are you doing!”

“Putting some food in your stomach.” Chan replied simply, like that was the answer to all your questions. “No take backs.”

You pause for a second, then find yourself laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Chan was still naked. You smack his ass repeatedly, making him yelp on the way to the kitchen.

“You’re insane.” You laugh as he finally sets you down on the kitchen counter, wrapping your arms around his neck when he squeezes himself in between your thighs.

“You love me.” He giggles, looking too smug for your own liking. But then his face softens, and you blink in surprise when he presses a soft kiss to your lips,

then your nose,

then your forehead,

then your lips again.

“And I love you . More than anything.”

It’s the softest kiss you’ve shared since you woke up, and that was saying something. You look up at Chan, dazed at the sudden switch of mood. He was looking at you tenderly, eyes twinkling as he smiled, dimples popping out.

Your heart pounded in your chest again, beating so hard you felt like it was going to come out of you. You love him. You were so in love with Bang Chan that it hurt, and you wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life in his arms, just like this. Always.

“Now,” Chan grinned wide, stepping back as he clapped his hands twice. He was looking very determined, arms crossed and bulging over his chest as he looked around the kitchen.

Your eyes meet, and your breath catches in your throat when he smirks.

“Time to fulfill my part of the deal so we can get on with yours.”

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