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holeforzenin · 2 months ago

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𝜗𝜚˚⋆ WATCHING A HORROR MOVIE WITH ROOMMATE TOJI

It was one of those nights where you didn’t really feel like doing much and Toji had suggested a horror movie marathon to kill time. You weren’t particularly a fan of horror but you’d agreed, figuring it could be fun to watch something with him other than fuckass horse racing show he’s always watching all the time.

The room was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the TV screen as the opening credits of the gorey thriller rolled in. You were sitting on the couch, trying your best to focus on the plot but your nerves were already on edge. The ominous music, the jump scares—it was all starting to get to you.

Toji on the other hand, sprawled lazily across the other end of the couch with a can of soda in hand, glanced at you every so often, seemingly unaffected by the jump scares and ominous music. But you felt your heartbeat quicken every time the tension built. You weren’t exactly a fan of horror but you’d agreed to watch the movie to kill time and because you also thought it would be a good roommate bonding experience because you rarely ever sit down and watch tv together.

A sudden loud sound from the TV made you jump, your eyes wide as you flinched and instinctively scooted closer to Toji. You tried to play it cool but he noticed the movement and raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What’s wrong, scared?” Toji teased, his voice low and amused as he turned his attention to you. He didn’t even try to hide his smirk.

“I— I’m not scared,” you stammered but your voice betrayed you. The movie’s tension was getting to you and you could feel your nerves starting to fray. You tried to ignore the growing unease creeping up your spine but it wasn’t working.

Toji gave you a sideways glance, chuckling. “Really? Cause it looks like you’re about to climb out of your skin.” He took a long sip of his soda, still watching you. “You’re so jumpy”.

You shot him a glare, trying to hide your discomfort. “I’m fine,” you said but your voice faltered slightly. He raised an eyebrow at you and then without warning, shifted so that he was sitting up straighter. “Come here,” he said, his voice teasing but genuine.

You were about to protest but before you could, he slid over on the couch, making room beside him, and reached out to pull you towards him. The movement was effortless and before you could even register what was happening, Toji had you sitting on his lap, his arms wrapped securely around you.

You stiffened for a moment, not sure how to react. Your heart was still racing from the scare and now the close contact made everything feel even more intense. Toji’s arms were firm around your waist, bracing you back against his big, warm chest like that’s where you belonged.

“There. Now I know you won’t be jumping around every two seconds,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. You squirmed slightly, a little flustered by how close you were to him but the warmth of his body was undeniable and despite the awkwardness, you couldn’t deny the comfort of his muscled arms around you.

“I’m not scared,” you insisted again, though this time your voice was quieter, and you didn’t really believe it yourself. His touch was oddly calming, the steady rhythm of his breath easing some of the tension in your body.

Toji chuckled, his fingers tracing small, absent circles on your back as he held you close. “Uh-huh. Sure,” he said, his tone still playful. “You’re not scared, but you’re practically climbing deeper into my lap”. He paused, his smirk widening as he continued. “Don’t worry kid. I got you”.

You felt your face flush but Toji’s presence kept you from moving away. As the movie continued, you found yourself sinking into the warmth of his chest, your body naturally relaxing in his comforting embrace. Each time the tension built up in the film and you tensed, Toji’s arms around you would only tighten as if reassuring you that you were safe.

Every now and then, his teasing voice would whisper in your ear, “Still scared?” but there was no malice in it. He was just messing with you but there was an underlying gentleness to it that made you feel oddly protected.

Eventually, the movie’s scares faded into the background as you became more focused on the rhythm of Toji’s heartbeat beneath your ear. You let out a small sigh, letting your body relax fully into his lap, the warmth of his arms around you now a comfort rather than an embarrassment.

The night carried on, the movie long forgotten as you remained in his embrace, safe and sound despite the creepy film that had originally put you on edge.

The movie played on but at this point, the flickering images and eerie sounds were distant. Toji’s body and the way he held you were a more prominent focus. You found yourself becoming more and more peaceful in his lap, the rhythmic motion of his fingers rubbing small circles on your back like a soothing lullaby, luring you to relaxation. Every time the tension in the movie spiked, you tensed up slightly but the moment his arms tightened around you, the fear seemed to melt away.

You had never expected it to feel this comfortable and safe. You could hear Toji’s soft chuckle now and then as he teased you about being scared but his voice was gentle and his presence felt like a quiet reassurance that you didn’t realize you needed.

It was only a matter of time before the weight of your eyelids became too much to resist. The combination of his warmth and presence, and the gentle, constant motion of his hand against your back had lulled you into a state of complete relaxation.

Your body grew heavier and despite the loud, scary noises coming from the TV, you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. Without realizing it, your breathing had slowed and your head had nestled deeper into his chest.

Toji’s arm tightened around you instinctively as you let out a quiet sigh, your body fully melting into his. His lap had become the most comfortable place you could imagine and before you knew it, you were drifting into a peaceful sleep.

The next thing you knew, you were completely out, the tension from the movie and the day completely gone. You didn’t even stir as Toji shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting his position so that he was more comfortable with you still resting on him.

Toji noticed immediately when you stopped moving. He looked down to find you had fallen asleep in his lap, your face relaxed and peaceful. A small smile tugged at his lips, though he quickly suppressed it, not wanting to make too much of a fuss. He was used to being the one to watch over things but there was something different about this— something comforting about having you here, leaning on him.

He adjusted his posture, pulling you even closer to him so your head was more securely resting against his pecs and you were laying comfortably so your neck didn’t hurt in the position. He didn’t want to disturb you, not when you were finally getting some rest. He could feel the weight of your body against his, the rise and fall of your breathing, and for a moment, it was as if the entire world had stopped. There was no rush to go anywhere, no need to do anything else.

Toji’s hand instinctively rested on your lower back, holding you in place as he shifted his position so that you were both more comfortable, laying on the couch. The cool air in the room didn’t bother you anymore, not with him there to provide warmth. He was content to simply sit there in the stillness, letting you sleep.

A few more moments passed and Toji’s eyes began to feel heavy as well, the soft weight of you in his lap and the quiet of the room making him start to drift off too. But he didn’t mind. He hadn’t had a moment like this in a while and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he liked the calm, liked having you close in this unspoken way.

“Sleep well, kid,” he muttered quietly to himself, though you were already too deep in sleep to hear him. His hand brushed over your hair to move it away from your face as he let out a soft sigh and let his own eyes fall closed, content to stay right where he was.

The TV flickered on, but now it was nothing more than background noise. In the dim light of the room, the two of you stayed there, the comfort of each other’s presence making the world outside feel miles away.

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sturnioz · 4 months ago

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‘RIDE.’ — CHRIS STURNIOLO

pairing. chris sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut, friends with benefits au.

word count. 3.4k

❝you can wear the hat and you can ride me.❞

content warning. friends with benefits, friends to potential lovers, explicit content, porn with some plot, teasing, unprotected sex, riding, light dirty talk, light mentions of hair pulling, creampies.

“Don’t leave—can’t leave. Not yet.” Chris mouths against your neck with what almost sounds like a whine, locking his arm around your waist to pull you flush against his chest as he rubs slow, deliberate circles into your back.

What was supposed to be a simple Friday hangout with your friend with benefits had spiraled into a full weekend together. Friday afternoon bled into Friday night, and before you knew it, Saturday had come and gone just as quickly. Now it’s Sunday morning, and the last two days feel like a blur of messy kisses, tangled sheets, lingering touches and midnight drives for greasy takeout.

You hadn’t intended to stay this long—not that you’re complaining.

You’d even tried to leave Friday night as planned, but Chris had other ideas; he begged and pleaded, wrapping himself around you like a vice, coaxing you to stay just a little longer—much like he’s doing now.

“I can’t stay,” you say, a soft laugh escaping as you squirm away from his persistent touch. “You’ve had me all weekend… don’t be greedy.”

“I am greedy,” Chris counters, his lips curling into a playful grin as he presses a kiss to your neck, his mouth lingering on your skin, warm and inviting, while his arms hold you stubbornly in place. His fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, gripping it like it’s the only thing tethering you to him. “Y’know if you stay, I could make you breakfast…”

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a sceptical look. “When have you ever made breakfast?”

Chris lets out a dramatic huff against your neck, his breath warm and just the slightest bit damp against your skin from the proximity. Clearly, he’s not above pulling out his most effective strategy: guilt-tripping.

His chin settles against the curve of your shoulder, and his hand continues its soothing path along your side, his thumb brushing idly over the bare sliver of skin just below the hem of your shirt.

“Please just stay?” he whispers, his voice soft but insistent.

“You’ve already had me for the weekend,” you repeat with a light tone as you manage to slip from his arms to settle onto your knees, shifting comfortably in the rumpled sheets to face him and offering him a soft smile.

Chris lets out a low whine of protest at your movement, but despite his best attempt to sulk at you, his gaze betrays him. His eyes roam over you, lingering on the bare skin of your thighs peeking out from beneath the hem of his shorts—the same pair he insisted you borrow when your own clothes became less practical over the weekend.

It’s a sight he definitely doesn’t mind, and judging by the way his lips curl into a faint smirk, his mind is already wandering to places that make you roll your eyes playfully.

Propping himself up, he leans back against his bed, his weight resting on his hands as he arches a brow at you, “... So?”

“So… no.” you simply reply, your smile widening as you meet his gaze.

The pout that spreads across his face is instant and very dramatic—but genuine. He shifts again, this time sitting up fully so he can properly look at you, his expression bordering on desperate as he tries again.

“Please?” he asks, and his tone is far more whinier than normal, but he is trying to convince you to stay. “Please, please, please…?”

He reaches for you, his fingers curling into the hem of your shirt and giving it a few insistent tugs in an attempt to pull you closer.

“C’mon…” he coaxes, his tone softening just a little as he tilts his head and looks at you with those annoyingly irresistible puppy eyes. “One more night won’t hurt, yeah? You’re being mean…”

“I like being mean,” you tease with a smirk, clearly trying to get under his skin. But the smug look on your face is short lived as a surprised squeal escapes your lips when Chris growls—a low, playful snarl—before he suddenly lunges forward. He pounces on you with zero hesitation, rolling you onto the bed until you’re firmly beneath him.

His weight presses you into the mattress, his body caging yours with ease. A wide grin spreads across his flushed face, a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he pins your wrists above your head, holding you in place. Your giggles spill out uncontrollably, and his knee nudges between your thighs, keeping you from squirming away.

“I forgot how much of a brat you are,” he murmurs with a click of his tongue in mock disappointment. He leans down, his lips brushing against yours before capturing them fully in a kiss that’s both firm and playful. Your giggles fade into the kiss, a noise vibrating in your throat when you feel his teeth tug gently at your bottom lip.

But you’re not one to let him win for long.

You pull back just enough to give him a look—one that makes his brow arch in curiosity. His grip on your wrists doesn’t loosen up as he tilts his head slightly, studying your expression.

“Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

“I’ll stay,” you begin, drawing it out just enough to keep his attention, “on one condition.”

He narrows his eyes at you, “Which is?”

Your gaze flicks upward, landing on the red backward cap perched on his messy hair. “You let me wear the hat.”

There’s a beat of silence as your words sink in. Then, his expression shifts so dramatically it’s almost comical. He stares at you like you’ve just insulted his entire existence, the disbelief in his face is palpable, and his jaw drops slightly before snapping shut.

“No,” he says flatly, shaking his head, the corners of his mouth tug downward in a stubborn pout. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” you ask, your tone light but challenging as you look at him.

“... It’s mine.” Chris replies, his voice firm, as if that’s enough of a reason—and to him, it is.

His hats are practically an extension of himself—he rarely goes a day without wearing one, and the idea of letting you wear it feels strange, like he’s going to be handing over a piece of his soul.

He gets defensive just thinking about it.

“Dramatic,” you scoff teasingly, rolling your eyes as you slip your wrists free from his grasp, and with a playful shove to his chest, you push him back onto the mattress, watching as he flops down beside you. “I was going to wear the hat while I ride you, but… never mind.”

Your words are casual, almost dismissive, but they hang heavy in the air and Chris freezes, his flushed face slowly turning toward you in stunned silence. The dumbfounded look he gives you is priceless—his mouth opening slightly, like he’s not entirely sure he heard you right.

The disbelief quickly shifts into irritation… and then something far more heated.

His eyes narrow, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head and he glances up at the ceiling for a moment, as if he’s trying to compose himself, but it’s no use.

His head snaps toward you once again, his voice a little rushed, almost panicked. “Hey—hey… no need to be hasty—”

“Nope.” you cut him off, your tone dead serious, though the teasing glint in your eyes betrays you. You shift away from him, making a show of ignoring him even as he scrambles to pull you back.

“C’mon…” he groans, reaching for your arm, his fingers brushing against your skin. “You can’t just say somethin’ like that and then—”

“I can,” you interrupt, biting back a grin as you keep up the act. “Mood’s ruined.”

“Hey…” he whines, shifting on the bed as he leans over your body, trying to catch your gaze. His expression softens into something resembling desperation, his lips pulling into a slight pout as he frowns. “I don’t think the mood is ruined yet.”

“Yet?” you repeat, sitting up in bed to face him completely, amusement dancing in your eyes as you tilt your head. “Are you telling me the mood’s going to be ruined eventually?”

Chris’ lips twitch into a lopsided, a quiet huff of laughter escaping as he moves in closer, kneeling between your thighs. “I was goin’ to say the mood would be ruined if you actually ignored me and left instead of ridin’ me…” he murmurs, and the smile widens. “But now you’re up—so.”

“Oh? So me sitting up is basically me not ignoring you anymore?”

“Mhm,” he hums as he reaches for your face, his palm cupping your jaw and thumb brushing softly against your cheek as he tilts your head back just enough for your eyes to meet his. His voice drops slightly, his tone low. “So, you gonna put me out of my misery and ride me, or are you just gonna keep teasin’ me?”

You bite down on your bottom lip to hide your smile, your amusement barely contained as you weigh your options. “Do I get to wear the hat?”

“Yeah,” his answer comes instantly—no hesitation, no grumbling, none of what he showed earlier. His eyes remain locked on yours, “You can wear the hat, and you…” he pauses, shifting back slightly until his body is lying flat against the bed, one of his arms resting behind his head as he slowly crooks his fingers, beckoning you closer. “....can ride me.”

You smile widely, swinging a leg over to straddle his lap and his hand instinctively drops to your hips, guiding you closer with ease. His fingers squeeze the supple flesh beneath the shorts you’re wearing, and a quiet hum escapes him as his other hand reaches up to grab the hat from his head.

“There we go…” he murmurs softly as his eyes rake over you once the hat is on your head. His gaze travels the length of your front, lingering on the way you adjust the cap. You wear it backwards—just like he does—and the simple action makes something shift in his expression.

Chris watches you with wide eyes, his lips parting slightly as he takes in the sight of you. It’s something he didn’t expect to affect him this much, leaving him completely speechless for a moment.

He swallows hard, trying to push past the lump in his throat as his hands slide unconsciously up and down your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and you catch the faintest twitch in his jaw as he fights the urge to make a sound of protest when you rise up on your knees, taking your weight off his lap.

But the protest dies on his lips when he sees why.

His eyes drop, immediately drawn to the way your fingers fumble with the waistband of your shorts. The fabric slides down, revealing more of your skin inch by inch, and Chris’ gaze darkens, his breathing hitching every so slightly.

There’s no hiding the hunger in his eyes now.

Another quiet hum rumbles deep in his chest as you settle back down in his lap, and his hands find their way to your hips again, this time gripping just a little tighter.

His voice is rough when he finally speaks, “You look fuckin’ good in my hat.”

You smirk, leaning forward just slightly, “And you didn’t want me to wear it at first,” you tease as you grip his shirt, slowly pulling it up.

Chris grins and lifts his arms above his own head to let you pull the shirt off of him, letting the material land somewhere off the edge of the bed as his muscles flex beneath you. But the slight attitude in your tone earns you a light pinch against one plump thigh, causing you to jump and giggle softly.

“I was being stupid…” he tells you, gently rubbing your thighs once again in a silent signal for you to just get on with it. “Now, you gonna keep distractin’ me, or are you gonna ride me?”

“So demanding,” you tease once again, but you let out a fake sigh and click the roof of your mouth with your tongue as you stare down at his own shorts that he’s wearing. “Can’t really do much with those in the way, y’know? Looks like I’ll just have to sit here… all comfortable…and not do anything…”

A low rumble vibrates through Chris’ chest at that, and the grip he has on you tightens at your words. He’s trying his hardest to maintain his composure; to not give you the satisfaction of seeing him lose it so quickly—even if there is an obvious strain in his shorts.

His breaths grow slightly ragged, and his eyebrows furrow. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not teasing you.”

“You’re sittin’ on my lap in nothin’ but your underwear—you’re teasin’ me,” he frowns, pressing his fingers into your thighs once again as he stares up at you. “You.. you can’t sit there and not do anythin’... you’re really—”

Chris is cut off by his own sharp gasp, his eyes shooting down toward his lap as you shift just a little more firmly on him, grinding your covered pussy on the bulge in his shorts.

“Really what?” you press with a teasing tone.

A noise catches in his throat at your question, and his eyes flit up to look at your face. He looks almost taken aback at the grind, and he swears he can feel the dampness from your cunt seep against his clothed lap.

“Don’t... don’t move like that.”

“No?” you hum, feigning innocence as you tilt your head to the side. “And I thought you wanted a ride?”

“You’re enjoyin’ this too much,” Chris glares with a growl, tonguing at his cheek. “If you keep grindin’ on me like that, then I’ll flip you over.”

“Well… that’s not nice.”

A hint of annoyance flashes across Chris’ face at your relentless teasing, and he shifts back a little as he leans up on his forearms. He’s looking up at you intently, and his jaw clenches to keep himself from flipping you over and taking you right then and there.

“You’re being…” he mutters under his breath, unable to finish his sentence as his biceps flex, struggling to fight back the urges.

“Sorry,” you whisper with a giggle and a smile, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “But.. seriously. I can’t ride you if you’re wearing your shorts.”

Chris exhales deeply before he begrudgingly loosens his grip on your legs and moves his hands down to the waistband of his shoes, lifting his hips up a little to push the material down. It bunches somewhere down around his ankles and he relaxes back against the pillows, his expression a bit smug as he looks up at you again, his arms coming up to rest beneath his head.

“There. Better…?”

“Much,” you grin as you bite down on your bottom lip, peeling your damp panties to the side as you angle yourself above him, gripping his cock with one hand to gently rub it through your puffy folds, causing him to hiss. You pause for a moment, staring at him, trying not to smirk, “D’you want to be my boyfriend?”

Chris lets out a huff of surprise, the question taking him so off guard that he just blinks at you. “Huh—w-what—” he falters, his brows knitting together as his expression contorts. “I—yeah, yes,” he stops himself short to clear his throat. “I’ll be your boyfriend.”

“Okay.”

“Why would you—” Chris’ question is cut short by a strangled noise that emits from the back of his throat, and he nearly chokes on the sounds as he watches you sit down onto his lap, his cock sliding between your folds to sink into your heat. “Fuck—you didn’t warn me you were gonna do that—shit.”

He lets out another strangled gasp as you squeeze your gummy walls around his cock, and you grin as you watch his head fall back against the pillows: one of his arms shooting up to cover his eyes, his face a mixture of pleasure and overwhelmingness.

“Shit—shit—hold on, can you—” There’s a pause, a shaky breath drawn between his lips as he tries to steady himself. His voice falters and breaks, and his muscles start trembling beneath you. “N-nevermind, just… keep—keep going.”

Slowly and deliberately, you begin to rock back and forth, grinding against him with each movement, and he moans softly, his hands moving down to your ass as you ride him. He feels like his head is spinning, feeling every inch of your hot, wet pussy wrapped around his cock, and his gaze draws to where you’re connected like a magnet.

You let out a shaky breath, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you brace your hands on his chest, taking him deeper inside of you as you roll your hips, his cock rubbing your walls and brushing against your cervix.

Chris sits up to lean against the headboard comfortably, and he mouths gentle kisses across your throat as his hands move up your spine, the pads of his fingers pressing against your skin to keep you close to him.

“Feel so fuckin’ good—tight… s’wet f’me,” his voice is a faint grumble against the warm skin of your neck, and he nips at your pulse point.

“Am I?” you hum softly, raking your fingers through Chris’ hair, gently tugging at the curly roots and a soft grunt escapes him. He wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in closer, his nose brushing the side of your neck as he mumbles a few faint grumbles to himself, panting as you clench around him.

“Mhm..” he affirms quietly, his teeth grazing your pulse point once again before he begins to kiss and suck at the spot.

You pick up the pace, an airy whine slipping from your lips as he pulls you down harder onto his cock, your breath hitching at the back of your throat as you alternate between bouncing and rolling your hips in circular motions when the strain in your thighs becomes too much.

Chris lets out a low groan when you tease him with shallow bounces, sinking back down to the hit before repeating the process. He tugs his head away from your neck, and he takes a moment to really look at you now.

“Fuck, baby…” he breathes out, his fingertips digging into your skin once again as his eyes darken. “Look at you…”

Chris swallows thickly as he takes you in; he’s practically in a trance with the way your eyes look a little hazy, and how your lips are parted to take shallow breaths as you ride his cock wearing his hat. It’s an image that’s going to be burned into his mind forever—something that he refuses to forget as his chest heaves when you roll your hips down against his.

Chris’ hands slide around from your back to thumb at your hardened nipples, and he smiles when you arch your back, pushing your chest further into his touch, desperate for more stimulation. He squeezes and rolls the sensitive bud between his fingers, and you cry out in pleasure as you clench around his throbbing cock.

Sweat glistens on each of your skins as you both lose yourself in the moment, and you gasp as he grabs your waist this time to guide your movements, bucking his hips up into yours to drive himself deeper into your pussy with a hiss.

Each plunge sends waves of pleasure through your body, making your head spin. You feel so full and stretched out, and the sensation of your clit rubbing against his pubic bone with every roll of your hips makes your breath come in sharp gasps, your lungs burning as your heart pounds in your chest.

You feel Chris’ hands roam over your curves, and his fingers dig into the plush skin of your ass as he urges you on.

“Fuck, m’gonna cum soon,” his voice strains, his eyes locking onto yours. “Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna fill y’up so fuckin’ good.”

“Cum,” you beg through heavy pants, clenching your inner walls around him. “Please… cum for me. Fill me. I need it.”

Your mouth drops open as Chris thrusts upward, burying himself to the hilt within your pussy as he spills inside of you, his cock pulsating as he fills you up. A sharp cry escapes your lips as it triggers your own, and your muscles spasm wildly in time with the erratic pumps of his hips.

Both of your bodies tremble and shudder, and your arms loosely cling to Chris’ shoulders as you collapse against his chest, tucking your face in the crevice of his neck as he hums softly, holding your close as he strokes your sweaty back.

#chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets smut #©sturnioz

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pinescent-and-gingerbread · 10 months ago

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✧ All the graces from Heaven

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Arthur and you enjoy a steamy morning at Strawberry's Hotel, much to the outlaw's delight. ✦ Warnings: SMUT 18+, MDNI! Oral (both reader and Arthur receiving), 69, a bit of fluff if you squint, porn without a plot, Arthur is more of a high/mid honor but loses it and gets a little bit rough, established relationship. ✦ Words: 2,6k ✦ a/n: Yeeeaah so. This is basically a 69 fic, it's pretty filthy and a bit less figurative than my usual works. Just pure smutty smut. I hope you'll enjoy it still! Pic is mine, not proofread! And as English isn't my first language, prepare for some misspellings.

The bedroom of Strawberry’s Hotel is filled with chuckles, and full of scattered clothes on the floor. Leathered boots, two shirts tangled together, jackets and holster belts thrown away messily on furniture. As a lighthouse in the middle of the sea, a black gambler hat stands tall hung on one of the bed's huge footboard legs over this tide of abandoned clothing.

Above it, the old wood creaks as two people mess with each other under the blankets, threatening to make the worn hat fall from its perch. Both are nude as the day they were born, and glued to each other as if they were wearing the other one’s skin.

You and Arthur had quite a time, last night. And since you had woken up, it was nothing but sweet words, cuddling and tickling. Teasing each other had become a private religion between you both, his sarcastic comments always met with a witty answer from you. It made him love you even more.

“Come on darlin’, stay.” Arthur’s deep voice asks you, as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, his nose impregnating with your smell, eyes closing on their own.

He feels good, there. It's in these simple shared moments, those laughs you sew together, those fingers and body you intertwine, those deep and dreamy conversations about your brighter future you share that Arthur finds his remedy. As if after all this life of surviving and fighting for a greater cause, a bigger picture, it was the simplest of things that appeared like an epiphany to him when it came to happiness.

You being the main source and Messiah of most of these humble pleasures, of course. His personal angel.

“You know I can’t. You may have the morning off for once, but I have somewhere else to be. Hosea needs me at the Tracker’s Hotel for a job.”

Arthur doesn’t hide his annoyance and grumbles against your skin, something about “Damn jobs always in the way” and “ The old man can wait a lil’ bit more.”

It makes you smile. As tempting as staying in bed all morning with a naked Arthur seems, especially considering how you can feel his fat cock feeling so soft against your hip, you feel self-conscious about leaving Hosea alone on your mission. You turn your head to the side to kiss your lover’s head, his sandy locks tickling your nose.

“Alright tough guy, time to go.” You decide before getting up in a sitting position, then crawling to the end of the bed to grab your ungarments.

“Not so fast, lil’ missy.” He objects with a low chuckle, obviously enjoying this little chase after you.

Before you can reach your aim, Arthur snakes his hands around your thighs and pulls you back to him in a quick and powerful motion, handling you as if you were the lightest feather, which makes you let out a squeal of protest mixed with surprise.

His laugh resonates for a second and then, he freezes. You had ended up on all four on top of him, but usually, your face was turned to his. This time, Arthur's nose is met with your plump rear, your chest to the other side, just above his crotch. You can feel his body, underneath you, getting tensed. This gigantic, massive, muscled body, so big and tall that his chest feels larger than a tree trunk between your spread legs. What was innocent playing for him just seconds ago had turned into a needy tension between the both of you. The air suddenly feels thick and a silence settles, a tense calm on the shore before a Maelstrom.

Your blouse and Hosea are a long time gone when you realize you can feel his breath on your pussy, the sensation making you shiver. You try to get up from the position, thinking he wouldn’t like to have his face shoved in your intimate parts, but his hands grip tighter and stop you, grounding you in place. You turn your head to him as much as you can considering your situation, taking an interrogative look at his face above your body.

His cheeks are red. Dark red. His eyes are fixated on your entrance, throat swallowing with difficulty. His bust rises and falls heavily, pectorals muscles swelling up before relaxing and rising again. He sighs, and you feel it again, hot air all against you, all against your now aroused and needy slit.

“We hum… We never tried like this…” He starts, voice low and suggestive about what he's implying, his hands traveling from your thighs to grab your ass, one hand for each cheek. They’re so big and firm, and feel so good there, as he squeezes, again and again, driving himself crazy as he admires how the perfect heart shape of your rear looks all squished under his fingers.

“You sure you want-”

Before you can even finish your sentence, Arthur answers it by pressing his lips to your pussy, exhaling through his nose and tightening his fingers on your flesh. This man always had such huge self-control for every dangerous situation known to mankind, but right now, it seems like he couldn’t resist taking a bite when having your perfect cunt under his nose…

A sharp and depraved noise leaves you, making his body burn like redden coal, his mind consumed more and more by your whole being and the simple feeling of your wetness all against his face. His whole universe reduced into this touch, lips against flesh, saliva mixing with arousal. Your sinful nectar and his.

“God, honey!” You whine, back arching without your permission, body moving backward to him, searching for more, needing more.

“Taste so goddamn good… Never gonna have enough of ‘this…” He rasps between a few more kisses to your folds, as a praise or a statement, you’re not sure, and he’s not either as words just flow through him and he lets them out without a drop of restraint or reflection. A rough, unstoppable river. That's how he feels every time he eats you out.

His tongue slowly slips out of his filthy mouth and licks your folds, slowly, tortuously, from bellow aaaall the way up to the inside of your ass. You could have been scared of not being clean enough for him or feeling nervous about his face almost buried in there, but the sound, the moan he had made suppresses all these anxious thoughts all at once.

You have to face the obvious: he’s loving it.

“Aah- Arthur…” Your hips roll against his face, desperate for some more friction, unsatisfied and so aroused by his teasing.

“You go on moanin’ ma name like that and am gonna come without ya even touchin’ me, darlin’.” He warns you, voice hoarse, lips mumbling against your folds, his beard and mustache tickling you just the right way.

You answer his words with a deep sigh, the filth of them burning you to the core. He laps at you the same way again, in one then two long and slow licks, as if savoring you like the finest whiskey he would have tasted. A mewl leaves your lips after each one of them. You’re starting to get impatient, and he knows it, he knows you after all those intimate moments. He stops his lips right at the entrance of your core and gently slides his right hand between your thighs.

The way he has to fold his arm to touch you there isn’t comfortable for him, his bicep being way too big to be crushed like that; but hearing you, feeling your thighs clenching and the appreciative words you let out when his fingers land on your sensitive bud is worth this slight pain. Always putting other’s needs before his own, always being devoted and loyal, always finding happiness in being useful, that was Arthur’s nature. And the bed was no exception to it.

“Was you not supposed to go somewhere?” He asks cockily in a falsely innocent tone, brimming with sarcasm and smugness.

“P-please, Arthur… Quit the teasing, for God's sake…” You ask, trying not to sound too pitiful, probably failing at it.

“A lil’ needy after all, ain’t ya? Ma sweet girl…” He coos, and you can feel his lips stretch into his usual grin, his heart gorging with pride and excitement to have this sort of impact on you.

Bending to your wishes, his fingers start to rub and trace tight circles on your clit as his mouth makes love to your pussy, his tongue delving in as deeply as he can, and the pleasure finally hits you like an earthquake. It feels so good, so damn good, your breathing quickly turning into loud moans.

Your head snaps back forward, and your body pushes your rear up all against him as a cat who would stretch after a nap. Arthur hums in delight and appreciation, unable to speak but encouraging you still. He increases his pace, his digits quick and sharp and so precise against your sensitive spot.

Your face falls down as every fiber of your body hardens, and that’s when your gaze is caught on his cock. Your pussy clenches hard around his tongue just by the sight of it.

It looks so hard and swollen that it must be painful for him. His hips buck forward into nothing, his member almost hitting your chin, with every lick of his tongue inside you. His round and reddish tip is leaking, pre-cum spurting out even more than usual, flowing all the way down into his dark curly pubic hair. His pants would have been completely soaked if he was wearing them.

You're salivating.

It would have been cruel to let him like this, right?

Focusing on him to try and not collapse from your own pleasure, you suddenly press your chest against his belly and take his cock inside your mouth without any warning. The taste of him, this strong saline flavor, fills your mouth.

“Damn!” Arthur shouts in surprise, momentarily parting his lips from yours, fingers slowing their pace. “Jesus, girl!”

This time, it’s your turn to grin, as much as you can, considering how big Arthur is between your lips. You don’t let him any time to think or protest, knowing he would insist that you’d come first.

The way you're crawling on top of him makes it even simpler for you to suck him off, your head naturally placed at the right angle on top of his crotch, and you take advantage of that. Finding support on the mattress with your arms, hands gripping his legs, you bring your mouth up and down hard and fast, sucking his shaft with such vigor you can feel his body squirming underneath you.

“Ngh-! Darlin’! S-stop, slow down! I ain’t gonna last like this!” He tries to plead but his words are drowned in a flood of groans and harsh sighs.

Despite what he’s saying, his body acts in the exact opposite way, hips jerking, cock shoving into your throat at the same time you’re working him. He tries, he really tries to keep on pleasuring you back while you work him, but he feels like he’s completely losing himself, unable to do anything else, to focus on anything else at all.

Your breasts pressed against his belly, his face buried in your pussy and ass, each of your thighs surrounding his head, and your goddamn mouth around his cock, this devilish tongue sliding all around it… He's completely losing his head. It's like being drowned in an Ocean of You. It’s too much. It’s way too much at once for a simple man. A simple, weak, mortal man feeling like he’s receiving every grace of Heaven all at the same time.

His basic instincts win the best of him. His arms are now wrapped around you, pulling you flush against his body, a hand back on your ass cheek, the other on your neck, spurring you into moving your mouth just like he needs to.

“Oh, shit! Yes, go on, go on, take it!”

You've rarely seen him losing his temper like this. He's usually gentle and soft, patient with you during sex, savoring the moment, making it last as much as possible, playing you like an Andante movement from the most sophisticated piece of a symphony.

Right now, he's unchained and rough, rushing to the Grand Finale without minding about false notes, drunk from you and the sensation of warmth he is feeling on every edge of his body; face, chest, cock, every inch of him merging with every inch of you.

He groans all against your pussy, as your saliva drools from this erratic pace. His fingers grip your head and ass tighter as he chases his high carelessly, already coming, way too soon and fast for him. His cock stiffens even more as he fucks your silky mouth, veins gorging with blood, tip throbbing in the back of your head.

“Aaah- Damn… Good… Girl!” He growls loudly with a thrust of his hips after each word.

The last one is followed by a loud and throaty whine, higher-pitched and vulgar, the kind of sounds he would usually let out when being hurt.

He shuts his eyes in a pleasured-filled frown as he pushes his face even deeper between your legs and, more from instinct than anything else, sucks hard on your cunt while he comes, lost, so lost in a sea of primal bliss and pure organic pleasure. His large body burns and tenses one hard final time, and you can feel the path of his cum traveling along his length against your lips as he releases inside you.

It fills you, his saline and strong taste blinding your other senses, cum as hot and sinful as his state, and you exhale with satisfaction as you swallow both this remnant of his ecstasy and the last drops of his sanity.

Arthur falls back heavily on the mattress, completely spent, his sweat staining the white sheets, his hands loosening their grip. Before removing them from your body, he allows himself a playful little spank on your butt as he speaks again, a revenge not strong enough to his liking for your sneaky move.

“Jesus, you’re… completely wild...” He sighs, his heart slowing after having beaten like war drums.

He’s still panting, mouth open and covered with a mix of this sweet cocktail of saliva and arousal. He licks his lips, feeling so satisfied, the sensation of your body everywhere on his skin still vivid and present. Like a stamp of black, indelible ink that has left its mark on a blank sheet of paper.

“You really enjoyed all this, didn’t you?” You ask back while getting off him, legs a bit shaky, your throat starting to feel a bit sore from the intensity you had chosen to go with. “I haven’t heard you whine like this for a long time…”

“I don’t “whine”.” He scoffs, knowing damn well he did, and suddenly feeling ashamed of the sounds he had made and guilty for the rough behavior he had displayed. His negative feelings are soon brushed off though, thanks to your beautiful and mischievous smile enlightening him.

“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that. I’ve still got ears to hear, Mister.”

“Hush. Now come here, 'gonna make ya feel as good and miserable as me from finishin’ that fast.”

His eyes burn with that fire he has. The one reserved for you and the excitement and adrenaline of action. You already know there's no way you'll walk out of this bedroom without being completely satisfied.

“Tonight. I’m already way too late to-”

“Now.”

The piece of clothes remains abandoned on the floor as the bed creaks again, that old gambler's hat only witness of Arthur's payback to you.

After all, he never liked leaving a job unfinished.

tagging some people who were interested in the scenario! : @amyispxnk @a-court-of-valkyries @fleouris

#pinefic #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x you

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winterarmyy · 7 months ago

Text

Most Precious

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Bucky and the reader had to take shelter from the snow storm after abandoning a mission due to the reader's 'mistake'.

Pairing: avenger!bucky x avenger!female!reader

Words: 2.2k++

Warnings: nudity but no smut content. a sprinkle of angst and i hope the ending is fluffy enough to make up for it.

Inspiration: i saw @buck-star posted this event and some of the prompts inspired me to write this 🥹

Prompts used: stranded/snowed in, cabin in the woods on the mountain, grumpy x sunshine soft reader, mutual pining/idiots in love, sitting lying together in front of the fireplace, a tweaked version of "You're the most precious thing ever. I will protect you with everything I have."

Note: feel free to search up #sydneysfluffywinter or #fluff-star winter for more stories under the event. i hope you enjoy this short fic!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The wind roared like a creature born of anger, staggering through the cabin’s entrance door as Bucky almost broke the door when he kicked it open. Snow seeping into his tactical suit, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. In his arms, Y/N lay limp, her frozen skin clinging to the fabric of his suit on his chest as if she belonged there. She can hear his heart hammered against her ear, a relentless beat behind the layers of cloth.

It was wild, frantic even; and she told herself it was because of the storm, the desperate trek to find shelter. She thought of her injuries, the way she slowed him down. The guilt made her heart clench and her chest feel heavy; a throb more suffocating than the pain in her thigh and waist. She’d been nothing but a burden.

The cabin was almost as dark as the night, and the coldness of the space was not that far off from the snow storm brewing outside. But this? This wasn’t new to him. He’d endured worse.

Bucky lowered her carefully in front of the fireplace, his movements precise but urgent. Y/N winced as her wounds screamed in protest, the pain was blazing hot despite the freezing air around. Her thigh throbbed, and her waist felt as though it was wrapped in shards of glass.

Bucky stepped away briefly, his gaze darting over the unlit corners of the room, his hand instinctively brushing the knife at his side. A habit he was not able to forget; the Winter Soldier training never really left him. Satisfied they were alone, he turned back to her.

Her eyelids fluttered slowly, her consciousness slipping in and out. Bucky cursed under his breath. The power was out, but he wasn’t about to waste time diagnosing that now. His jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line as he set out what he needed to treat her wounds.

Bucky was angry; it radiated off him like steam from boiling water. But the frown on his face wasn’t unfamiliar. Y/N had seen his rigid features a thousand times before. This, though? This was sharper, colder. It wasn’t his usual grumpiness. He was mad. At her.

The realization was like a slow plunge of blade into her chest, and it made eyes pooled with warm tears. Not from the physical pain scorching her flesh, but the ache of his perceived disappointment.

By the time Bucky had coaxed the firewood into flames, the heat began to thaw the rattling chill in the room. He knelt beside her, his expression set in stone as he draped a blanket over her trembling form. Behind the cover of the blanket, his hands worked quickly, undressing her with care that belied his hardened demeanor.

He pulled her close as he worked to pull her pants over her bottom. Her face was buried in his neck as he whispered, “The cold will kill you. Come on, now.” His voice, rough but mostly filled with urgency. They didn’t have the luxury of embarrassment – for her, the sensation of him stripping her bare; for him, the temptation to relish the softness of her skin against his hands – not with her life teetering on the edge of frost and blood loss.

He peeled the blanket back just enough to expose her injuries, the torn of her flesh was slick with half-frozen blood. The cold had helped slow the bleeding, but not enough to ease his worry. Bucky worked with a precision that spoke of grim experience.

Every time she winced or hissed, his grip on the forceps tightened, the metal creaking in protest. It was as if her pain annoyed him, a silent demand for her to be stronger, better; more like an Avenger.

She noticed it every single time, and it pricked into her pride like being wrapped with thorny vines. The fact that he wouldn’t meet her eyes made it worse. His focus stayed on her wounds, his frown deepening with each moment.

When he finally finished, he noticed the tears tracing her cheeks; a silent trace of a vulnerability she couldn’t hide. They were especially prominent when they glistened in the firelight. His brow furrowed further.

“Bear with the pain a little longer,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll get the team here as soon as I can.” his tone was not that far off from his normal grumpy self.

But to Y/N, at this very moment, it sounded harsh. To her, it sounded more like an order than reassurance. She swallowed, guilt twisting like a vice in her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice trembling.

Bucky’s head snapped up, confusion flashing in his stormy blue eyes. “What?”

“I’m sorry for being incompetent. I should’ve noticed them sooner. I should’ve taken them down before they could do anything.” Her voice was a mix of shame and frustration however not as evident as the pure agon trembling through.

His jaw clenched. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

The words were meant to be absolution, but she heard them differently. There’s nothing you can do.

Her voice cracked. “I wasn’t enough.”, streams of hot tears kept falling unapologetically, leaving behind a trail of warmth on her cold skin.

Bucky’s frown deepened, his frustration bubbling over. “Damn it, Y/N. Why do you always do this to yourself?”

She blinked at him, her confusion cutting through the haze of pain. “Do what?”

“Put the blame on yourself like it’s some kind of default setting. This wasn’t your fault,” he snapped, the edge in his voice sharper than intended.

Her cheeks burned, shame and anger mingling in her chest. “I’m not blaming myself. I’m just… stating facts. If I’d been faster, stronger; if I’d been better; this wouldn’t happen. We wouldn’t need to abandon the mission. You wouldn’t need to carry me all the way up here.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, his frustration spilling out; contaminating the air around them. “You think I care about that? About you being some kind of perfect soldier?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping but no less intense. “I care about you, Y/N. Not your skills, not your damn performance. YOU.”

Her breath hitched, his words slicing through the self-doubt she’d been drowning in. “Then why do you look at me like that? Like I’ve failed you?”

His shoulders sagged, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “That’s not what this is,” he said, his tone quieter now, tinged with exhaustion. “I’m angry because you scared the hell out of me. I’m worried about you, Y/N. You jumped in front of a bullet meant for me without a second thought. Don’t you value your life?”

The words struck her like a blow, but she struck back with equal fervor. “You’re the most valuable person to me! Of course, I will protect you with everything I have. And I’d do it again if I have to!”

Her confession lingered in the air, fragile but undeniable. Bucky’s eyes widened, the storm in them softening as realization washed over him. His anger melted, leaving only the deepest parts of his emotions afloat; his love for her.

His right hand rose tentatively, brushing the skin of her tear-streaked face. His palm cupped her cheek, his warmth a stark contrast to her icy skin. She leaned into his touch, a quiet surrender.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling with an overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t quite utter out loud yet. “You… you matter to me.”

The words hung between them, heavy and fragile. She blinked up at him, the pieces slowly found its rightful place in puzzle. She realized that he meant more than just about worry or duty. It was something deeper, something unspoken but unmistakable. Yet, she reminds herself not to get ahead of the moment.

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s gaze softened, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Because you make it easier to keep going,” he admitted, his voice unfiltered. “When everything feels heavy, when the past doesn’t let me breathe, you’re the one thing that makes it bearable. You remind me that I’m still… me. And that makes you, Y/N, the most precious person to me.”

Her heart clenched, his words cutting through the haze of pain and doubt. The light from the fire danced in his eyes, their usual icy blue now warm and liquid, like the sea yielding to the shore. She hadn’t just been a mission partner or a responsibility to him. She’d been his anchor, his hope.

And for a moment, the storm outside seemed to still; as if time itself paused to let the quiet intimacy between them linger just a little longer. To let the cabin feel like it was a cocoon, sheltering not just their bodies but the fragile truths they’d finally unveiled.

"Are you okay with that, babydoll?" he asked softly.

Heat rushed to her cheeks at the nickname, her heart stuttering in her chest. She nodded, sheepish, her lips curving into a small, bashful smile. His own lips twitched upward, the corners softening into a rare, genuine grin. Her reaction was worth the vulnerability of saying it aloud.

But as the burning wood crackled and the silence stretched, Bucky noticed the faint tremble still coursing through her body. Even with the fire roaring and the blanket tucked around her, she was trembling.

"You’re still cold," he murmured, guilt threading through his tone as his hand moved gently, caressing her cheek before trailing down to her neck. His touch was soft, deliberate, as though he could erase the chill from her skin with every motion.

Their eyes met in that moment, and the realization hit them both at the same time.

She nodded slightly, her voice a soft whisper. "Can you… stay with me? Under the covers?"

Bucky hesitated, his instincts warring with his emotions. His hesitation lingered for a moment too long, and she turned her wide, pleading eyes on him. Those damned puppy eyes. And just like that, he was undone.

With a resigned sigh, he stripped off his snow-soaked jacket and tactical vest, leaving them in a damp heap by the fire. His shirt followed, revealing the lines of muscle and the faint scars that told a thousand stories. He slid beneath the covers, careful not to jostle her injured side. The moment his warmth enveloped her, Y/N instinctively curled closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Bucky’s body was a furnace, the serum coursing through his veins keeping his heat steady and intense. Her frozen fingers brushed against his chest, and he sucked in a sharp breath, every nerve in his body coming alive at the contact.

Slowly, he wrapped his right arm around her, careful and deliberate. Pulling her closer; her head snuggled into the crook of his neck, the softness of her breasts resting on just below his chest, her legs entangled with his, until there was no space left between them.

His hand found her back, calloused fingers tracing soothing circles over her bare skin. The gesture was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid that she would break. But the way she relaxed against him, her breaths stabilising as her trembling subsided, told him she didn’t mind. Her nose brushing against his skin, and he felt her sigh; a soft, content sound that made his chest ache in the best way.

"You’re precious to me," he murmured, the words spilling out before he could second-guess them. His lips found her forehead, a lingering kiss that was both tender and grounding. "More than anything."

Y/N’s fingers curled against his chest, her heart thumping a steady rhythm that matched his own. "Bucky," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep but laced with something softer, warmer. "Thank you."

He smiled against her hair, the corners of his mouth curving upward in a way that felt unfamiliar but good. "No, thank you, for saving me", he replied quietly, his sincerity was certain. Then his tone shifted, growing stern as he added, "But, don’t do that again."

She giggled softly at his warning, the sound light and airy, cutting through the heaviness of the moment. "What if I like saving you?" she teased, her voice playful but still tinged with exhaustion.

Bucky rolled his eyes, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "You’re impossible," he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words. Instead, his hand shifted to cradle the back of her head, his thumb brushing gently over her hairline. "Just promise me you won’t scare me like that again."

She tilted her head up slightly to meet his gaze, her lips twitching with a faint smile. "Only if you promise the same."

He huffed, his breath warm against her temple. "Deal." His fingers resumed their soothing circles on her back, and he leaned down to press another soft kiss to her forehead. "Get some rest, doll."

They stayed like that, skin to skin, softness meeting strength. Bucky held her as if the world outside didn’t exist, as if the storm that had almost claimed their life was nothing but a distant memory. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of everything; the mission, the storm, the unspoken emotions, seemed to lift. Wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside faded to nothing.

At some point, their bodies finally surrendered to exhaustion, leading them straight to the warm embrace of sleep and perhaps even to the bashful morning after when they awoke, body tangled together, and all too aware of the touch of each other’s bare skin.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: i know it's not a tooth rotting fluff, regardless though, i hope you enjoyed the fic? drop your thoughts, i'd love to read them 💕

#sydneysfluffywinter #fluff star winter event #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #avenger!bucky #bucky angst

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swordgrace · 8 months ago

Text

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆. ❞

KINKTOBER WEEK TWO.

⤿ pairing(s): halbrand!sauron x fem!human!reader.

⤿ word count: 4.6K.

⤿ warnings: smut (mdni), porn without plot, mild manipulation (it’s sauron), risk of getting caught, possessiveness, sex in a public location, fingering (fem!rec), heavy kissing, hair-pulling, scratching, begging, unprotected sex, p in v sex, breeding kink if you squint, sex on a table.

⤿ note: first time writing for sauron, please be gentle! mr. tolkien, so sorry for all of the despicable things I’m gonna be writing about your characters. ❤️ thank you all for reading! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

A salt-tinged breeze stirred through the forges, a welcome gust of relief amidst the heat that sought to blaze his flesh asunder.

In the silence of dusk, Halbrand found his solace with hammer and anvil, over that of indulgence of drink at some tavern.

Númenor proved to be the respite he desperately needed, running from a shadowed past. He worked tirelessly, through lengthy days and well into the night, his mind a tumultuous tempest.

The King of the Southlands — the ruler of nothing.

It was a mantle that wholly disinterested him, and despite his numerous protests to Galadriel regarding his supposed heritage, the she-elf refused to let it stay dead and buried. He was better off here, crafting works of art — blades, armor, jewelry.

There was nothing for him now, only threads of a plan that seemed to fall by the wayside. It was easy to disappear here, to fade away into the backdrop of the oceanside kingdom, allow himself to place all his efforts on smithing.

The roaring embers of the forge sizzled as he placed the partially-finished blade inside, molding metal to his skilled hand. There was no greater joy than that of creation — making something out of nothing, a tool to be used.

Halbrand’s gaze momentarily flickered toward the roll of parchment sitting along one of the many craftsmen’s tables.

You were an envoy of Númenor, the brood of a lesser House of Men, in-service to the Guild. It was you that had uncovered records of the Southlander line and brought it to Galadriel’s attention — a clever creature, you were.

In what handful of interactions he’d had with you, you were studious and well-mannered, far too intelligent for your station. You toiled in-service to lesser beings, when your potential extended far beyond their reach.

The scroll contained the very bloodline you had presumed he hailed from, as if you were dangling the proof for all to see. He cared little for it, preoccupied with the task at-hand.

If it were his choice, he preferred to stay in Númenor, learn their customs and assimilate into their culture. Galadriel’s stubbornness had the potential to win out if he weren’t careful, and Halbrand was not the subservient sort.

In the star-riddled dusk, Halbrand decided to break in his crafting, stepping toward a basin of water, letting the cool liquid wash away the perspiration dotting his brow.

It was better at twilight, offering a solace that one might not fully understand. He rarely slept, and when he did, he was often plagued by dreams of constant rage. Halbrand let the forge simmer down, opting to work on the still-hot sword.

A gentle tap of knuckles against the door did not alert him as much as you thought it would. He stood with his back to you, brows furrowed together in concentration. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He questioned.

Greeted by the stifling, ember-fueled heat of the forge, you stood in the doorway, having abandoned your Guild regalia. “Good eve,” You mustered a smile, hands twisting together. “You are a stranger to rest, it seems.”

“As are you,” Halbrand’s steely gaze flickered from the blade to you, letting the hammer swing down upon forming steel. “Is it safe for you to be wandering about at nightfall?”

His sharp inquiry brought you pause, fingers idly toying with the fabric of your dress. Númenor was perfectly safe — safer than most kingdoms of Men. “Should it not be safe?” Countering his remark, you observed the rack of newly-crafted swords.

Halbrand did not offer an answer right away, turning the blade over, striking it again with his hammer as sparks flew. “There is no such thing as true safety, my Lady. There will always be something stirring in the shadows.”

You nearly laughed at his fearmongering — he sounded akin to an old maiden, weaving her intricate tales of fright to dissuade children from wrongdoing. “That is a rather dour sentiment. Are you often paranoid?” Your tone tapered off into one of mild amusement.

A sardonic scoff escaped him, lips quirking up only slightly, yet he did not seem offended by your retort. “Merely concerned with preservation — my own, first and foremost.” He replied.

He knew why you were here, even if it was an unspoken thing that you continued to dance around. You had come as a messenger on behalf of Galadriel, to make a valiant attempt of convincing him to return to Middle-Earth.

“The Guild is impressed by your craft,” Shifting the topic, you brushed your fingers over the horse-shaped pommel, the color of ivory. “Not that I should be divulging that information.” You mused.

Perplexed, Halbrand wordlessly observed you, cerulean hues studying the creases of your dress, a shade of mauve that only seemed to enhance your beauty. There was something forlorn simmering within him, feelings not often brought to the surface.

“Is that so? It seems that they’ve finally come to their senses,” He jested, earning a pointed look from you. “It took a beating to do so.” Halbrand placed the unfinished blade beside the dying embers of the forge.

There was still mild bruising around his nose and mouth, heated transgressions that earned him the ire of Númenor. He seemed unperturbed, seizing a rag from the edge of an anvil.

“That could’ve been avoided,” You murmured, tracing a digit around the ivory head of a horse before stepping away. “You are fortunate that they did not toss you into the seas for your rancor.”

“That would be rather unfortunate, being tossed back into the ocean when I had worked tirelessly to claw my way out of it.” He quipped, moving about the forge as he hung up his tools.

A soft sigh escaped you as you shook your head, peering outside towards the night skies. “If you wish to stay in Númenor, you must cease drawing attention to yourself.”

Halbrand chuckled, the sound devoid of any mirth. It was a steely sound, more sardonic than genuine. He wiped away at the soot and grime of the forge, leaning back against the sturdy table.

“Is this amusing to you, being tossed into a cell and brawling with the locals?” The sharp bite of your inquiry could’ve been mistaken for the edge of a knife. “You are above that.”

“And if I am not?” He was equally as sharp, that of a longsword, tarnished and worn yet still able to cut with ease. Halbrand’s countenance seemed unmistakably soured by your comment.

Taken aback, you turned to face him fully, canting your head to one side. It was not mock frustration that you found in his features — it was true. “What do you mean?”

“You continue to place me upon some pedestal,” Halbrand scoffed, peering elsewhere, gazing at the hot coals of the forge. “What if I am not what you think me to be? What if I am simply a Man with not a drop of nobility to his name?”

With a furrowed brow, you folded your hands together, studying his visage. He seemed frustrated yet forlorn, as if he were remembering something — lamenting, perhaps. “Then you are a Man.”

In the time that you had gotten to know Halbrand, standing alongside Captain Elendil on the ship back to Númenor, he was something of an enigma. Charming and charismatic with a great love of disobedience, but he possessed a veiled depth.

Galadriel seemed far more preoccupied with returning to Middle-Earth and hunting Sauron, making Halbrand a ruler over considering his feelings. If he wanted to stay in Númenor, craft a new existence — you did not blame him.

“And if I am not the man that you believe I am?” Halbrand pressed, as if seeking a certain answer from you. Some sliver of his being wanted someone to tell him that they cared little about his past, what he used to be.

“Whatever you are insinuating, I care little for it. Your past does not make you — only what you do from this moment forward,” You replied, mustering a gentle smile. “You are Halbrand — that is enough for me.”

If the She-elf had it her way, she would drag him back to Middle-Earth, writhing and screaming. In his own web of schemes, it was what was necessary — but time was infinite.

There was a peculiar gleam within your eyes, one that possessed a warmth and understanding that he was vastly unaccustomed to. “Hm,” He sighed, turning the cloth over within his hand. “Thank you.”

A brief laugh tore past your lips, one that seemed to bring the tension to a momentary heel. “What, for dissuading you against further scorn by the local populace?” You mused.

Halbrand happened to chuckle at that, a warm sound that made residence within your stomach, butterflies following suit. “For understanding, for your kindness,” He replied, his tone softening. “Not many possess your tenderness.”

Growing silent, you nodded, attempting to mask the brief glimmer of surprise that fluttered across your features. You were often regarded as level-headed and sage, yet soft when it mattered most.

“I do not wish to see you thrown in a cell again, or exiled from the Guild when you clearly possess a wealth of talent,” Your motives transcended that — part of you liked Halbrand. “I would do the same for anyone in your position.”

“Would you?” Halbrand’s inquiry, whilst outwardly inquisitive, seemed tinged with something unfamiliar — something amorous. Your nerves became set ablaze, skin uncomfortably warm.

As you swallowed the growing lump within your throat, Halbrand straightened, copper-hued locks framing his rugged face. He was handsome — statuesque, clearly carved with the frame of a warrior and a smith.

“Yes,” Hoarse and pitched with the sudden swell of nervousness, you idly toyed with the sleeves of your dress. “If you are to stay in Númenor, I would hope that you only continue to thrive with your craft.”

This craft was of little interest — Halbrand knew what he wanted, starting with you. Malleable like the finest metal, as beautiful as a glittering opal socketed into that of a signet.

“Is that what you want, for me to stay in Númenor?” Seas help you — this was madness. Halbrand’s poignant question made you wonder what exactly was about to happen, gooseflesh icing your spine, prompting you to shiver.

“What I want matters little,” There was a noticeable lack of conviction within your tone, as if you were convincing yourself of that very fact. “You are free to choose your destiny.”

You were fighting against the urge, the untoward craving that began to settle within your bones. It wasn’t proper nor appropriate of you to even consider wanting Halbrand, a man whose fate seemed far more important than your own.

To ask him to stay in Númenor, abandon the Southlands — you did not have the heart. It was born of greed and desire, wanting to keep him close to your chest.

“It matters to me,” Halbrand murmured, brows creasing together as he glowered down upon you, close enough to touch. “What do you want?” The malignant force deep within him begged to bring you into his stead.

Whatever perceived darkness hungered within you, it also screamed within him, with a shadow far more powerful than your own. Greed was unbecoming of you — you were meant to serve the people of Númenor, never yourself.

Whereas Galadriel possessed a fierce heart and unending thirst for vengeance, you longed to be free — no longer under the thumb of lesser Men, to lead and to be revered.

To be loved, to be coveted.

“Do not leave,” A plea, beseeching him to stay in Númenor, to stoke whatever flame was stirring between the both of you. The intensity of his longing stare nearly made you collapse. “Stay here, in Númenor.”

A hitch formed within your throat as his calloused fingertips graced your arm, tracing over the sea of mauve gossamer that clung to your form. Halbrand took your silence as something contemplative, afraid to make your true feelings known.

Again, he pressed closer, looming above you, caging you in against the table. You could feel his heat, smell the coal and metal, taste the fantasy that swirled within your mind’s eye.

Roughened digits caressed across your throat, over your slender neck, your collarbone. His touch was like that of a fire, a burn so wonderful that you would beg for it if you had to.

“Halbrand,” Barely above a whisper, your tone seemed strained, as if fighting against all of your baser urges. A peculiar heat raked its way across your flesh before settling within the pit of your belly. “I shouldn’t.”

“Do you think that you are the only one who possesses desire?” His wanton confession made your knees buckle, lips parting just enough for a soft gasp to escape you. “When my eyes found you upon that ship, I wanted — more than I have for some time.”

Words turned to ash upon your tongue, dying then and there within your throat. There was a fire within Halbrand’s eyes, one that sought to burn you, too. You felt the small of your back dig into the table, warmth licking across your spine.

Each breath felt labored, a dizzying sensation taking hold of you, as if this were more dream than reality. Yet, Halbrand remained close to you, chest-to-chest, digits finding the swell of your hip through the sea of violet fabric.

Instead of vocalizing your festering worry, you rocked up upon your toes, pressing your lips against his own. It was disarmingly gentle, a sheepish kiss that did not waste a second in becoming heated and charged.

He reciprocated with a blinding intensity, arm hitching around your waist, calloused palm spreading out against your back. Halbrand lifted you closer, his kiss inherently greedy and covetous, as if you belonged only to him.

His mouth swirled with wildfire, tasting of smoke and a hint of Númenorian stout, stubble scratching against your soft skin. Your hands found their purchase against his chest, able to feel the taut muscle beneath.

Hardened was a good way to describe him — rugged like the uneven ridges of tanned leather, swathed in heat. He cupped your jaw with his hand, reveling in the sensation of your flesh, akin to a plane of silk.

The state of dishevelment he was in mattered little to you — the soot upon his tanned flesh, the specks of dirt, garb somewhat tattered. You could not recall the last time you had yearned for someone so terribly that it ripped your heart into two.

Each clash of your lips evoked a pang of excitement that struck at your stomach, exhilaration pumping through your veins. Halbrand was a vigorous kisser — passionate and swift, stealing the air from your very lungs.

His palm slowly caressed from the small of your back toward your derrière, strong digits melding themselves into your clothed flesh. A hitch formed within your throat, anticipation mounting as the tension began to cloud the room.

Your digits possessed a mind of their own, climbing towards the nape of his neck, threading themselves through his bronze tresses. Halbrand kissed you again — softer this time, yet not without his domineering edge.

Lips bled into one another with an outpouring of want, a long-repressed sentiment caged within both hearts. Halbrand wanted many things — yet, what he did not expect was to crawl after you like some starving beast.

Every sensible thought seemed mulled, draped in this haze that clouded your mind. As you slowly recoiled from the kiss, you keened into the rough embrace of his palm, his digits cupping your cheek.

As much as you longed to continue, the locale seemed impractical, if not somewhat reckless. If someone were to catch you, you would never hear the end of it. Even then, you did not want to let fear drive you this way.

“Must I profess my desire once more?” Halbrand murmured, warm breath fanning across your visage, tinged with smoke. There was something tantalizing and enigmatic about him, swirling with some edge of mystique.

“I wouldn’t protest,” You whispered, which earned you the beginnings of a smile. He swept your tresses aside, bearing your neck to him as he bent in to kiss the soft flesh there. “Halbrand.” A low whine escaped you.

Stubble prickled and bit at your neck, yet you reveled in it, clutching at his shoulder as he pressed heated kisses to your throat. He was not hesitant in the slightest, letting you writhe and moan, plead for him to continue.

It was then that he began to gather your dress with one hand, firmly gripping at the mauve fabric as he inched it upward. Exhilaration struck at you again, the buzz of excitement, a thrill that you hadn’t experienced before.

There was not an inkling of hesitation from you, with little sign of stopping his advances. As he guided the gossamer along your legs, one palm snaked forth, calloused digits embracing your thigh, as smooth as silk.

He held little recollection of the last time he had touched something so delicate, as if you were some splendid jewel to be cradled, coveted. Halbrand kissed his way toward the curve of your jaw, searching your visage for a reaction.

As he parted your legs with his frame alone, your breath hitched, an audible noise that he found to be delicious. You were akin to some startled rabbit, ensnared within the jaws of a predator disguised as a friend.

Whatever smallclothes you wore beneath were of little consequence, giving way to that of his possessive embrace. Your hand flew back to grip the edge of the table, nails digging into splintered wood as he sought the heat between your legs.

Anticipation swelled within you, teetering on the edge of unraveling as you felt his digits ghost across your aching cunt. It was feather-light, intended to torment you — and torment it did.

“Halbrand,” A desperate gasp tore past your lips, needing him in a way that you hadn’t desired anyone else before. “Please, please touch me.” Your breathy pleas did not go unheard as he planted a kiss against your neck.

“Is that what you want?” A sultry purr rumbled from the depths of his chest, tone adopting a rather promiscuous resonance. He watched you nod several times over, fingers pushing past your petals as he touched your core.

A hand held onto his bicep for stability, the other haplessly fisting at the wood behind you. A moan emanated from you, desperate for anything he would give you.

Much to his delight, he found that you were shamelessly wet between your thighs, a nectar that refused to cease. “You are beautiful like this.” He murmured, fingers toying with your slit, eliciting another strangled moan from your lips.

Halbrand’s forehead brushed against yours, hawkish gaze absorbing the look of pleasure upon your face. He began to find a steady rhythm, worn digits sliding along the length of your cunt, letting you hold onto him as much as you pleased.

Any scrap of friction you received drove you mad, desperation climbing to new heights as your hips rocked forward into his hand. His stare became half-lidded, drinking you in with unabashed greed, longing to consume you.

Sighs of wanton passion drifted from you in droves, legs parted as he pressed his thumb to the pearl of your cunt. It was easy to evoke a reaction from you, the constant writhing, gasps and whines, the look of complete and utter bliss.

In sluggish circles, he caressed your clit, causing you to twitch again. “Halbrand,” A moan tore past your lips again, his name becoming a melody from your mouth, to be sung over and over again. “Do not stop, I beg you!”

“As you wish.” Halbrand’s voice raked hot embers over your body, reaching a salacious octave that turned your insides to molten liquid. He continued to touch your nethers, two digits sweeping toward your entrance.

An impenetrable heat swallowed your body whole, skin feeling damp with perspiration, somewhat in-part of the forge’s dissipating warmth. He continued to circle your clit, fingers lightly prodding at your cunt in an attempt to seek entry.

Rough lips fell to your neck again, gowns having slacked enough to give way to your shoulder and collarbone. You clawed at his bicep, rolling your hips again as you rocked yourself upon his digits, much to his delight.

With a brusque tug upon the collar of his tunic, your lips clamored for his, longing to feel his mouth. His kiss left you breathless, teeth scraping against your lower lip, bringing you to heel.

Heat pooled between your legs, coalescing upon Halbrand’s fingers as he teased your core, thumb working around the pearl of your cunt. A soft gasp tore through your throat, a moan escaping you into the passion of your kiss.

Again, your hips rolled into his hand, craving him in a way that resembled that of an animal; carnal, ravenous. A fire danced within his eyes, one that seemed to reflect the sentiments that festered within you.

“Give yourself to me.” Halbrand sighed, timbre trembling against the underside of your jaw before he looked upon you, unraveling from his touch. Need stirred within him, coupled with the swell of possessiveness.

He searched your countenance for any hint of hesitation, flicking his thumb across your clit once more. “Please.” You pleaded, waves of bliss rolling across your body, bringing with it a feverish heat that made you want him all the more.

Halbrand heeded your breathy plea, reaching for the leather ties of his trousers, wanting nothing more than you be inside of you. His cock twitched with amorous intent, muscles coiled, prepared to grab you.

His hand recoiled, leaving you with an aching emptiness that caused your cunt to clench pathetically around nothing. A hitch formed within your throat, words turning to ash as he lifted you onto the table.

Calloused, careworn palms kneaded into your haunches, grasping at your pliant flesh in fistfuls as he pressed his lips to your exposed shoulder. Rucking your gown up to your hips, Halbrand appraised you with a thinly-veiled lust.

There was no flesh as soft as yours, untouched — belonging to him. Anticipation churned within the pit of your stomach, lips agape as he unraveled the front of his breeches, freeing himself from its confines.

Flushed with a rush of ecstasy, Halbrand dragged you closer, hands traveling to cup your hips. He guided his length to your cunt, letting the tip of his cock linger there until he pushed forward.

“Halbrand!” You moaned, hand reaching to grasp at the nape of his neck, nails raking across his coppery tresses. The other seized his bicep, digging inward as he slowly rocked into you.

Nearly chest-to-chest, there was little room for discomfort, letting lust and urgency guide his hand. He huffed, steadying his ironclad hold upon your hips, fingers pressing hard enough to leave behind bruises.

His pace was agonizingly sluggish at first, drawing out each thrust in an effort to let you grow accustomed. Hot sighs of passion fluttered between the both of you, lips brushing over one another as he rolled his hips forward.

There was something exhilarating about coupling with you, the warmth of being alive, savoring the guise of mortality. Halbrand could see the attachment brewing within your stare, the glint of affection intermingled with desire.

The still-burning coals of the forge provided enough illumination for him to see you bathed in fire — and you were breathtaking.

Your heart pounded within your ribcage, so powerful that you thought it might burst through. His stubble scratched against your cheek, providing a pleasant burn that let you know that this was reality. “Move,” You moaned. “Please.”

Inclined to obey, Halbrand let his yearning for you show, as plain as a summer’s day. He began to thrust into you, hunching in and over, stabilizing himself with one palm flat atop the table.

The other squeezed incessantly at your hips, cock rocking in and out of you at a steady pace, yet the fervor was steadily increasing. Your head spun, clouded by lust as your paramour ravished you in the way that you deserved.

His countenance echoed your sentiments, shadowed with the haze of lust, a carnality that clawed at your very soul. You let your forehead press to his, brows screwed together in a state of bliss, grasping at his tresses.

Halbrand grunted, the low noise rippling through his chest as he held your thigh, digits clamping down to keep you firmly in-place. His cock throbbed with an ache of urgency, hips snapping forward as he filled you completely.

A moan erupted from your lips yet again, nails forming crimson crescents against his bicep, occasionally lurching forward to meet his thrusts halfway. His pace became somewhat erratic as he coaxed you to lay back.

Your back hit the wooden surface of the table, the uncomfortable bite of it all softened by parts of your dress. Halbrand hunched in over you like a wolf towering above prey, palm flat beside your head.

The groan of sturdy wood beneath your entangled bodies resonated throughout the forge, the heat beginning to dissipate. The warmth between breath and body kept you feeling feverish, and you hitched one leg around his hips.

It evoked another growl from his lips as the smith pounded away at you, keeping a firm and steady pace. Halbrand was rougher than some, but never enough to cause you discomfort or harm. He was invigorated, driven to madness by the sight of you.

He kissed you again, feeling your desperation through joined lips alone, your hand grasping at his toned forearm. Arousal mounted within you, as thick as honey oozing between your thighs.

Passion bled into need, the two tangling together into some fervent amalgamation. It showed in his movements, continuing to thrust into you, feeling your cunt clench around him. You were made for him, with a heart that he found as malleable as metal.

The arch of your back signaled that your release was swiftly approaching, keening into his embrace instead as you moaned. You did little to temper your volume, mouth agape, head rolled back �� you were the picture of grace, now tarnished.

His name escaped your tongue like a wayward prayer, over and over again until it was the only word you knew. As his cock hit you again, sending shockwaves throughout your body, you came undone.

Your leg squeezed at his hips, feeling his own resolve crumble at the sight of you, disheveled because of his doing. Halbrand let out a sonorous groan, body nearly blanketed over yours as his cock slapped into you again.

The warmth you provided was enough to make him stay sheathed within you, spilling himself inside of you without thinking. It only served to fuel his possessiveness, as dangerous as a growing wildfire.

Rocking himself inside of you once more, you let out a strangled whine. Through labored pants, you slowly regained composure, feeling his hot breath fan out across your visage.

Halbrand pulled himself out of you, leaving behind the visceral remnants of your lewd exploits, the sheen of it coating the inside of your thighs. He noticed your sheepish expression as you corrected your garments.

“There isn’t anywhere you can go that I would not follow.” He uttered, fingertips tucking strands of hair behind your ear. As you moved from the table, the smith reached for something within the pocket of his trousers.

“Halbrand,” You began, knowing that asking him to stay in Númenor was not fair — to either of you. Perhaps you could enjoy what comfort he brought, for the time being. “I shouldn’t ask it of you.”

“No matter what destiny entails, know that you belong to me.” There was something strangely dark within his tone, disguised as affection — you were oblivious to it. He placed something into your joined hands.

Touched by such a sentimental gesture, you flourished in the aftermath of your coupling, feeling his rough lips press against the curve of your jaw. You shivered, feeling the weight of a trinket within your palm.

Your lips sought his, the kiss lingering, enough for you to feel it burn within your very soul. There was nothing that could describe whatever it was you felt for him, felt with him.

“What is it?” You inquired, warmth raking along your spine, faces brushing against one another. Halbrand lingered pensively, a smile tugging at either corner of his mouth.

“Consider it a gift.”

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x you #lord of the rings #rings of power #lotr x reader #the rings of power #rings of power x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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glamourscat · 3 months ago

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CELESTIAL BODIES | POLY!JEGULUS X READER

as the title says | three fools in love | 7th year | fem reader |

I. The Moon

"I think I'm in love with two people," Regulus announced to his two best friends as he stared the ceiling of his dorm room, sprawled dramatically on his bed. While Barry was resting his head on Evan's thighs, pretending to read a book.

"Finally admitting it, then?" Evan didn't look up from where he was braiding tiny plaits into Barty’s hair. "Only took you half year."

Regulus shot up, side eyeing Evan. "What do you mean 'finally'?"

Barty snorted, abandoning any pretense of reading. "Reg, darling, you're about as subtle as an elephant. The way you look at Potter and Y/N..."

"I do not look at them in any particular way!"

"No? Shall I refresh your memory? You literally walked into a wall last week when we were our way to class, because Potter flew past the window during Quidditch practice," Evan pointed out.

"And you spent three hours in the library yesterday 'studying' while Y/N read poetry," Barty added, using air quotes.

Regulus buried his face in his hands. "It's impossible anyway. They're... they're together."

"And?" Barty raised an eyebrow, exchanging a look with Evan. "We're together, but that doesn't mean we wouldn't be open to—"

"That's different!" Regulus protested. "You two... it makes sense. But me? With both of them? It's complicated enough being a Black who's in love with a Potter, but adding another person..."

"Love's always complicated, petite étoile," Evan said softly, using the nickname that he gave Regulus as a joke during their first year but it stayed up to now. "But that doesn't mean it's impossible."

Regulus looked between his best friends and felt something in his chest. "I just... I want what you have. But I want it with them. Both of them. Is that selfish?"

"No more selfish than wanting the sun and stars," Barty smiled. "Which, coincidentally..."

"Oh, shut up."

But he was smiling now too, even as his heart raced with a new found possibility.

II. The Sun

James Potter had a problem.

Actually, he had two problems, both currently sitting under a tree by the lake – his girlfriend, you, reading poetry to his Quidditch rival (and frequent source of confusing feelings) Regulus Black.

"Prongs, mate," Sirius said from beside him, "you're staring again."

"Am' not," James muttered, definitely staring, as Regulus laughed at something you said. "Just... making sure they're not plotting anything."

"Right. Because my brother, who blushes every time you say his name and your girlfriend, who writes you love notes in Ancient Runes, are definitely plotting against you."

James turned to his best friend, surprised. "Regulus blushes when..."

Sirius groaned. "Merlin's pants, you're both so oblivious. Just go talk to them!"

"But what if—"

"James Potter," Sirius grabbed his shoulders, "my brother looks at you the same way I look at Remus. Trust me, I would like to say some.. a lot of things about this, but s'not the time. Nor the place. I see it in the way he looks at you, at her. In the way she looks at him the same way she looks at you. And you? You've been pining after both of them for months. So please, for the love of my sanity, go talk to them before I hex you."

James blinked. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh.' Now get your ass up, you absolute moron."

III. The Stars

You weren't blind.

You saw the way James watched Regulus during Quidditch matches, the way Regulus's grey eyes followed James across the Great Hall. You noticed how they both gravitated toward you, how their touches lingered, how they seemed to orbit around each other, despite claiming they cannot stand each other.

It was rather fitting, really. James with his bright energy, lighting up every room he entered. Regulus with his quiet grace, reflecting that light in his own beautiful way. And you, somewhere between them, trying to bridge the gap.

"Your boyfriend's staring again," Regulus murmured, eyes flicking between your book, the black lake and definetly not James.

"Is he now? Must be staring at you I suppose." you replied without missing a beat.

His head snapped up. "I- what?"

You smiled, closing the book before turning to face him. "Oh, come on, Reg. You can't tell me you haven't noticed."

"Noticed what?"

"The way James looks at you. The way you look at him. The way you both look at me. The way I look at the both of you"

Regulus went very still. "I... that's..."

"Complicated?" you suggested. "Maybe. But the best things usually are."

"But you and James..."

"Are very much in love," you agreed. "Just like we're both very much in love with you."

The confession hung in the air between you, as delicate as starlight.

"Oh," Regulus breathed.

And then James was there, dropping down beside you both with his usual grace (or lack thereof). "So," he said, running a hand through his perpetually messy curly hair, "Sirius threatened to hex me if I didn't come talk to you both."

"About?" Regulus asked, voice slightly higher than usual.

James looked between you both, golden in the afternoon sun. His eyes catched yours and you nod reassurning. You two haved talked about this before, and it seems it was finally time to let the cat out of the bag.

"About how... I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you. Well, the both of you. And how that should probably terrify me, but somehow doesn't."

"And maybe…" James continued while grinning, "we should continue this conversation somewhere more private? Like, say, a certain someone's dorm?" as his eyes flicked back to your figure.

"Subtle, Potter," Regulus rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

"You love it."

"Merlin help me, I do."

Later, tangled together in your satin bed sheets, you three fit perfectly together. James's warmth, Regulus's cool touch and your steady presence between them. Their kisses tasted different. James like sugar quills, Regulus like mint and the rich English black tea he always has in the afternoons, but they go together so beautifully.

"We should have done this ages ago," James murmured against your neck while Regulus kissed patterns across your collarbone.

"Better late than never," you gasped as Regulus nipped at your skin.

"Much better," Regulus agreed, reaching up to tangle his fingers in James's hair.

And really, what were a few months of pining compared to this? The sun, the moon and the stars, finally aligned just right.

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ecstarry · 1 year ago

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@jegulus-microfic / rank / 705 words / game of truth or dare goes wrong, or not?

“Trust me Sirius, you will regret this,” Regulus whispered in his brother’s ears as everyone around them cheered for the next game.

“I’m your big brother, I will never regret embarrassing you.” Sirius took Regulus by the shoulders and made him sit on a chair in the middle of the circle. It was the first party where both Sirius’ group of friends and Regulus’ were hanging out, it was Dorcas and Marlene’s idea now that they were dating.

“The game is really easy, you take a drop of veritaserum, and someone gets to ask a question. Got it?” Everyone around the room hummed in confirmation as Regulus drank his dose of the potion. His eyes met James’ across the room, his boyfriend tried to conceal his nervousness with a smile. If their friends were smarter, Regulus was sure they would’ve picked up on their relationship by now, without the need of a veritaserum.

First, they went through the normal round of questions just to make sure that the potion was working. No more than three questions in and Sirius decided it was time for the actual fun.

“Do I actually embarrass you, Reggie?” Sirius teased, but he was clearly eager for the answer.

“No, you’re my favorite person and I love you.” A round of loud ‘awwws’ echoed in the room. “Oh shut up, and just ask another question,” Regulus blurted out.

He immediately regretted it as he saw Barty’s mind clearly plotting something.

“Okay, I have one. Dear Regulus, would you be so kind as to rank your best kisses?”

“Ew! NO!” Sirius quickly protested.

From the corner of his eye, Regulus could tell how the question made James' heart race. This was not how they had planned to tell everyone they were dating.

“Shhh! I want to know,” Remus insisted.

“I don’t! Knowing you two kissed when you did perfect rounds together is all the information I need about the matter!” Sirius was hysterical.

“Just answer the question Reg, start with the third place,” Barty instructed.

Regulus tried to fight the truth, this truly was the last way he wanted his brother and friends to know he had been dating Gryffindor’s golden boy. He once again searched for James’ eyes, and James was already looking at him, so lovingly. His boyfriend mouthed the words ‘it’s okay’, so Regulus took a deep breath and answered.

“Fine. Third place would be Evan.”

“Quite the kisser you are too, love.” Evan blew him a kiss in response and everyone started laughing and commenting.

“Shhh, I want to know who is in second place,” Dorcas intercepted.

“Sirius, don’t hate me,” Regulus said as he closed his eyes and fought once more the words that were about to come out. “Second one is Rem-”

“I’M LEAVING!” Sirius announced loudly as he got up.

“Sirius, don’t be dramatic, don’t you want to know who is actually first?” Remus said, trying to distract him.

“Don’t worry, it’s me,” Barty said with an immense amount of confidence.

“Ugh, it couldn’t get worse I guess,” Sirius mumbled as he sat on Remus’ lap. “If you say James I will fucking kill you, Regulus.”

Regulus' eyes widened and a violent blush crept from his neck towards his cheeks, without thinking he snapped his head towards James who was the same shade of crimson as him. Fuck. His reaction had been too noticeable. Everyone around had caught it, especially Sirius.

“Regulus! Say right now that James does not have the first place in your fucking kissing list!”

Silence.

“He does…”

The room erupted in a million loud voices laughing, screaming and questions aimed at both him and James.

When did this happen!?

How am I not on your list!?

Are you dating!?

Or are you fucking!?

Regulus began feeling dizzy and overwhelmed, he got up the chair to try to breathe but felt his legs falter. He felt familiar hands, calloused hands, warm hands steady him. James.

“It’s okay, baby,” James assured him as his arms wrapped around Regulus’ waist.

James’ voice brought him back to reality, he saw Sirius approaching and couldn’t help the words that left his mouth with a laugh, “I told you so.”

They never played with veritaserum again.

more microfics here

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skzophreniic · 1 year ago

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Featuring: pussydrunk!chan x afab reader

Genre: smut with the tinniest of plots lol

Warnings: chris is reader's fiance, cunnilingus, semi-public sex (bathroom stall) and over all smut smutty smut.....yeah. minors do NOT interact

Notes: what i do for you guys (and myself). feedback is always appreciated! or you can hit me up and we can squeal together lol

chan is horny. like, unbelievably so.

which, in itself is incredibly inappropriate since he's currently at the work function you invited him to, in trousers that he cannot afford to have a hard-on in, but it's not his fault. how could he not be, when you're walking around the ballroom in your pretty little slip dress, hair brushed to the side, as you interacted with your coworkers. you're so graceful, so professional, so put together, so--

delectable.

he clears his throat, adjusting his pants and sitting up, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from you and back on one of your coworkers, who has been speaking to him for the past five minutes about the company's goals. he could not give less of a shit to be honest, but he's here for you, so he makes the effort, smiling and nodding when appropriate, the picture of a loving, supportive fiance.

that is, until he has your dress bunched up to your hips as gets to his knees in front of you.

he doesn't know how you two got here, just that he met your eyes over the shoulder of you blabbering coworker and suddenly, he was excusing himself, and through a flurry of movement, and mumbled apologies, you two were suddenly in the only place you could get a sliver of privacy--a bathroom stall.

"chris, my dress--" you whine when he shoves it upwards unceremoniously, forcing you to curl your fingers around the hem. "it's gonna get wrinkled and I have to give a speech later."

his deft fingers curl around the waistband of your panties and he looks up at you. "sweetheart....you know I love you, but I don't give a shit about your dress."

"we can't do this here," you protest, trying to regain some sense of composure, but your words come out in breathy whispers as his fingers trail teasingly along the edge of your panties. you can feel the heat pooling between your thighs, your body betraying your protests.

he chuckles, keeping his eyes on yours as he litters kisses on your inner thighs. "can't we?"

your scent enveloped him, intoxicating and sweet, as his fingers deftly peeled away your panties, his gaze never leaving yours. your already wet, and normally, any other time, chan would comment on how needy you were for him, how you were already sopping and he hasn't even touched you--but today? today he was the needy one, practically drooling at the sight of you.

"so pretty, baby," it comes out in a desperate sigh. "so so pretty."

before you can respond, he is flattening his tongue across your entire vulva, dragging it up slowly. his fingers tighten around your thighs when you jump, steadying you, but also keeping you in place for him.

he can't help the groan he makes at the taste of you as he sucks on your labia, lapping up at the juices you're already releasing. "fucking made for me," his words send vibrations into your pussy in a way that makes your knees weak.

your breath hitches, a soft moan escaping your lips as you bite down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the sounds. the last thing you need is for someone to hear you, but the way chan is devouring you makes it nearly impossible. his tongue works with an expertise that drives you wild, alternating between broad, slow strokes and quick flicks that have you teetering on the edge.

"chris," you whisper, your voice trembling. "we really... we shouldn't—"

in answer, he maneuvers one of your legs so that it's resting on his shoulder so that he can press his face further against your pussy, inhaling deeply. the world outside the stall fades away, the murmur of conversations and clinking glasses becoming a distant hum as his tongue delves deeper. his fervor is almost worshipful, the way he licks and sucks at your clit with a fervent devotion, the tip of his nose brushing teasingly against your clit with every movement.

"please," you moan, your voice breaking. it's not clear what you're pleading for—more, less, for him to stop before someone finds you, or for him to never stop.

he responds with a growl, the sound vibrating through you as he doubles his efforts, alternating between gentle licks and intense suction, pushing you higher and higher until you're trembling. he knows exactly what you need, exactly how to push you to the brink and hold you there, teetering on the edge of release.

he's there when the coil in your lower belly finally snaps, tongue eagerly waiting to lap up everything you give him--and lap up he does. he is so lost in your taste, that you have to physically push him away, thighs already shaking because of the way he is overstimulating you.

he lets you push his head back by his hair, leaning his neck back to give you a perfect view of the glistening of your juices on his lips and the tip of his nose.

you can't help but let out a shaky laugh, a mix of nerves and disbelief at the situation you've found yourselves in. " we really need to get back to the party," you whisper, trying to regain some sense of rationality, even as your body still hums with the aftermath of his expert ministrations.

"right." he stands, helping you smooth down your dress and you up at him nervously.

"does it look okay?"

he gives you a once over, lips trembling in his effort to stop them from curling. your cheeks are flushed, dress wrinkled and he could see the fabric quiver slightly.

you groan.

"it looks awful doesn't it?"

"nah," he plants a soft, lingering kiss against your lips. "looks amazing. now how 'bout that speech, yeah?"

#straykids #bang chan #straykids fanfic #bangchan fic #skz #bangchan fanfic #bangchan headcanons #bangchan imagine #bangchan imagines #bangchan fluff #smut #stray kids hard hours #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #bangchan hard thoughts #bangchan hard hours #bangchan smut

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amkyor · 6 months ago

Text

K. BAKUGO SHORT STORY ᡣ𐭩

Hands Off:

You sat on the couch, your eyes fixed on the movie playing on the screen, but your focus wasn’t on the plot.

Instead, you kept glancing over at Katsuki, who was sitting stiffly on the other side of the couch.

“Katsuki, are you mad at me?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the silence.

He didn’t answer right away, his crimson eyes flicking toward you for a moment before looking away.

His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and his usual confident demeanor seemed unusually reserved.

“No,” he grumbled, his voice low.

“Then why won’t you come over here?” You patted the space beside you, trying to coax him closer.

“I’m fine right here,” he replied, his jaw tight.

You frowned, sitting up straighter. “Okay, what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird all evening.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he muttered, still avoiding your gaze.

“Katsuki,” you said firmly, sliding closer despite his attempt to create distance. “Tell me.”

He sighed heavily, finally uncrossing his arms and letting his hands rest on his knees.

His palms were glistening slightly, and he clenched them into fists as if trying to hide the evidence. “My damn hands won’t stop sweating,” he admitted through gritted teeth.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Your hands?”

“Yeah,” he snapped, frustration clear in his tone.

“They’ve been like this all day. I don’t want to touch you and—” He stopped himself, his expression darkening. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you reached out to place your hand gently on his arm. “Katsuki, I’m not afraid of a little sweat.”

“It’s not just sweat,” he said, pulling his arm away. “You know how my quirk gets when my hands are like this. I’m not risking it.”

You moved closer, ignoring his protests, and gently took one of his hands in yours.

He stiffened, his eyes wide with concern, but you didn’t let go.

“Katsuki,” you said softly, looking up at him. “I trust you. You’ve got more control over your quirk than anyone I know.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking between your face and your hand in his. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” you interrupted, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to pull away from me just because you’re worried. We’re in this together, remember?”

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he finally let himself hold your hand.

“You’re too damn stubborn,” he muttered, though the hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

“And you love me for it,” you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Tch. Maybe,” he grumbled, his free hand coming up to rest lightly on your back.

As the movie continued, Katsuki’s grip on your hand grew more confident, the tension in his body melting away.

And though his hands stayed warm and slightly damp, you didn’t mind one bit.

FANFIC RECOMMENDATION ᡣ𐭩

Adult Bakugo x Female Reader Fanfic

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mimipolo · 6 months ago

Note

Hey I have a request

Some Nam-gyu x reader where he developed a crush and sneaks of to talk to you at random times even tho you vote opposite of him he can overlook that however when he’s with thanos he’s mean and insults you which shocks and upsets you will you forgive him?

Nam-gyu x reader

I had so much fun writing this ngl, I hope I did the idea justice <33

Sorry Se-mi it's for plot

You had met Nam-gyu and Thanos after the first vote. At the time you felt a small sense of determination that you could make it through the games, get a higher prize and pay off all your debts in one go.

They had praised you excitedly, Thanos slinging an arm around you and going on about how they'd both protect you. You had trusted them for the most part, yes they were both a bit sketchy but they had a prescence among the players so it'd be easier to follow them. You had mixed feelings about the duo, one was always hyper and loved to mess with you and the other had a serious staring problem and a stupid smirk.

At the moment it didn't matter how you felt about them, you needed to get out of here. And now. You had barely survived the last game, knees grazed from when you fell and quickly scrambled to your feet. You wince at the pain as you curl in on yourself and rub your thumb over your bloodied hands. You were desperate for a sense of comfort or solidarity which at the moment only you could provide for yourself.

You were startled to see a head of black hair come out of nowhere from the ladder to your bed, angled eyes meeting yours hazily. Nam-gyu, a rare visitor. You're still startled by his sudden appearance, clutching your chest slightly as your eyes widen in surprise.

"Nam-gyu? What are you-"

"I'm coming up."

You don't get the choice to protest against it, he's already hauling himself up to get on your bunk, sitting cross legged in front of you. For a moment you're genuinely confused to why he's here, your bunk was fairly high off the ground and from how he was earlier you didn't expect him to be capable of climbing. Guess he sobered up. He's sighing softly as he links his fingers together, gazing at you as if in deep thought.

"You're gonna vote "X" next right?" He lifts his head up to see your reaction, clenching his linked fingers when he sees your lips purse as you look away from him. That was enough of an answer.

You personally are terrified, you had never been particularly close with the man and you were tense as to why he decided to make the trek up to your bed to ask you such a question. What's he going to do? Is he angry? Noticing the small shift in your body language he stops spacing out and runs a hand over his face. This sucks, honestly. The small infatuation based of pure curiousity he had for you had developed into a genuine crush he couldn't shake off. You intrigued him to no end and he was just working up to talking to you more.

So why'd this have to happen?

He's not that upset you want to leave, as much as he preached about how everyone should "Play one more game!", He understood the main basis of wanting to leave was the simple passion to live. A passion that'd he'd lost touch with after he lost everything he had. But you were in a similar situation, yet despite that you always seemed slightly hopeful things would work in your favour, and when they didn't you kept a level head. A rationality he wished he also had. You were smart, attractive and worst of all reasonable. Which is why you wanted to leave.

He's still staring at you but you feel less creeped out, you feel more worried. The usual carefree demeanor he had seemed to be crumbling right before you, he almost looked more tense than you.

There was a reason why he had come here, he didn't want to ask in front of Thanos. With him he'd be obligated to maintain this facade of now hating your entire being, but that wasn't the case, in fact it was very far from it. He wanted you like nothing else, selfishly. He could only hope you read him openly from the small amount of vulnerability he'd give you, something you were good at.

"Choose "x", I don't really care."

"Oh."

You are honestly pleasantly surprised by his words, your anxiety lowering massively. With the tensity gone you could see he looked...worried for you? You weren't totally sure but he laughs bitterly, pulling his signature move of pushing his hair behind his ears.

"Just know that, I'll vote to stay. So I'll still be sticking with Thanos."

You looked at him confused, and honestly he was too. There was no need to share all this information with you but he couldn't help it, he wanted to be open with you, show you how he is when you could be alone together.

You jolt slightly when he lightly takes one of the hands you're holding onto and taking them in his own. Streaks of blood crumbling away when he rubbed it away with careful thumbs, you could only watch him silently, admiring his oddly considerate actions. Even if the tint of blood still stained your palms. What's with all this special treatment, did he like you or something?

Before you could question him about what had just happened between you two he's sighing deeply and rubbing his hands together, ready to climb off your bunk.

"I'll try look out for you when I can."

And with that he's gone, you're left to sit with your thoughts and overthink how sweet he was to you just now. He was never like that before. Before you realised it a small smile was on your lips as you savoured the cold, brief moment of his touch still on your hand.

Though the next moment left you quite confused, it was time to vote. Everyone was still conflicted but you had made your choice and had a silent comradery with Nam-gyu. It gave you the bit off confidence to press the "x" button, some cheered while others groaned as you quickly switched your blue patch for its opposing side.

You could hear the familiar deep voice of Thanos going "What the hell man, we agreed one more game??" the direct confrontation made you physically tense as you made your way to side of potential exit. Nam-gyu didn't say a word, didn't even look at you either. Strange, you thought but you mostly brushed it off.

What the hell [Name], we agreed to keep playing, ya just switching on us all of a sudden?"

Thanos' voice echoed in your ears as he had you cornered near your bunk, you glance to Nam-gyu for some sort of support, even if it was just telling his friend to relax but you were quickly disappointed.

"Tch, did you really expect them to stay, I saw 'em practically trembling after the last round."

You felt your heart aches at his words, your expression immediately dimming as you stared at him confused. But unluckily for you he had mastered his poker face to the last detail. If he felt any guilt for what he said you wouldn't know, it was all behind that senile smirk now.

"Kehaha, nah you're right. All those loud sounds scare ya already?"

"Poor thing."

Thanos pushes you back accusingly, forcing your back to meet the unforgiving metal bars of the bunks, just as suddenly he's in your personal space, grabbing the red velcro badge on your chest roughly as he shook you. His eyes dilated widely as he threatened you with crazed, wild eyes.

"You're lucky this is there's a revote, switch this "x" to an "o" or I'll never let you live it down, got it?"

He laughs when you stagger back when he lets you go, Nam-gyu joining in with own mocking chuckle, it hurt you in a way it wouldn't have before. What was all that about earlier then, was it just a lie? But why, he didn't get anything out of it.

And again you're left alone to deal with your own self destructive thoughts, you just wanted to leave this place, it felt like you were suffocating within its walls.

Things ended up more violent than he had expected, he's panting as he rips the fork from the man's neck for the last time. How he felt? Great. It was like some great awakening as he stumbled up to his feet. It's only then he takes the time to digest the fact Thanos is dead, what a sad way to go hm?But also equally as pathetic. He wanted to laugh but he wanted to shout in frustration too. He does neither, looking down at his unpredictable partner in crime now laying on the floor covered in grime and blood. It's when he starts to feel the growing ache in his chest that the guards finally barge in to stop the fighting, forcing them all out the crime scene.

You're on your bunk, cuddled up to yourself as usual when you spot him, bloodied and worn along with other men. Your heart sinks as you take in the situation, watching as they shouted and cursed impurities from both sides. You had switched sides of sleeping arrangements due to the votes, so now you were able to get a slightly lower bunk bed. He shouldn't know where you were and yet his eyes snapped to you, for a moment they crumble slightly, a sliver of the worry he had coming out just for a moment. And then he's walking off, not looking back once.

It's lights out and you were terrified, you had finally found out what had happened in the men's bathroom and you knew it could lead to nothing good. Everywhere you thought to hide felt dangerous and you had no one to rely on, no one to truly trust.

He's shaking, his hands trembling as he sits perched on Thanos' bed, in memory of the annoying guy. He's feeling conflicted, he couldn't tell if he had cared for him or not, all he knew the indifference he felt for others wasn't the same with colourful haired man. He pops two pills in his mouth, brushing his knuckles against his lips as if the action were sacred. Soon thoughts drifted back to you. How were you holding up? Did you have anyone there to protect you? A sick part of him hoped not, he wanted to be the only one to look out for you, the only one you'd think to turn to.

He feels amazing, never felt so resolute in the entirety of the games than when he killed. Hissing in satisfaction as he struck the deadly cutlery into Se-mi's neck for what felt the 100th time. Wiping the blood of his face with the back of his hand when he feels a prescence behind him. He doesn't bother taking back his weapon as he gets up from his crouched position to turn towards the figure.

It's you.

You look absolutely terrified, your upper body was uptight and you could've gotten away with looking less afraid if it wasn't for how your legs trembled ever so slightly. You're fighting with yourself and you finally will your body to run but he's quick, yanking you back by your arm and holding you against him possessively. His breathing is hard and his bloody hands are firm against your back.

Heavy breaths fill your ears as he looks at you with wide shaken eyes, he'd been looking for you, even on this killing spree.

"You asshole, what are you doing are you crazy??"

"Heh- huh, yeah I feel like it a little..." the small chuckle he lets out feels distant from his true feelings and he wished you'd tell him why he's like this.

"You lied, you said you'd look out for me, prick." You want your words to be firm but the fear of everything around you was still so intense, it shook your words and made your throat tight.

"I know, I know alright. I said when I 'can' Thanos would've made things worse for both of us if I said something..."

"But he's not here anymore... I'll watch out for you, for real this time, promise."

Even in his drugged state you could tell these were his thoughts the whole time, and his visit to your bed made slightly more sense, he just wanted you to know he didn't actually hate you. What a weird guy, why not just come out and say what the game plan was? You wanted to ask him all these things, shout and push at him until you got all your frustration out.

But you're drained, there's still the far away screams of new victims being made and you couldn't tell what was side was losing.

But he's shushing you quietly, when you weren't even crying, but now it triggered you to. Hot silent tears running down your face as he huddled you into a corner and made you sit against the wall behind a fallen mattress. Grabbing your face and pressing his forehead to yours as he whispered softly.

"Nothings happening to us, we're getting that stupid cash prize and leaving this shitty place."

And then he's off again, you don't know where, but you'll stay here quietly and hope for his quick return.

#squid game #squid game x reader #nam gyu #nam-gyu x reader #player 124 #nam gyu x reader #player 124 x reader #se mi squid game #thanos #thanos squid game

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yvesssssssss · 4 months ago

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How would react the boys of Sakamoto days to their girl being grumpy for having such a bad day?? Would they give her space or comfort her? Feel free to ignore this request I don't really know how to put the idea into words D:

I love your writing btw :^

How the Sakamoto Days Boys React to Their Girlfriend Being Grumpy After a Bad Day

(nagumo, shin, gaku, natsuki, shishiba, heisuke)

No matter who you’re with, by the end of the night, you’re laughing, relaxed, and definitely feeling better. And whether it’s through jokes, food, affection, or sheer stubbornness, they all prove one thing—

Nagumo Yoichi – Annoying but Effective Distraction

Nagumo notices your mood immediately, draping himself over your shoulders with an exaggerated gasp.

“Who dares make my beloved this grumpy? Name them. I’ll make them disappear.”

You glare at him. “Nagumo.”

He grins, unfazed. “Ah, so it’s me then. What a plot twist.”

He follows you around, cracking jokes, pulling stupid faces, and dramatically fake-crying until you finally—finally —huff out a small laugh. That’s all he needs.

“There it is. Knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Then he pulls out the real cure: your favorite food. The two of you eat together while he dramatically retells stories from his missions, making you roll your eyes—but you’re smiling now, and he’s satisfied.

Shin Asakura – Supportive and Attentive

Shin doesn’t even need to ask—you’re grumpy, and he knows why. Instead of pushing you to talk, he quietly places a warm drink in your hands and sits beside you.

“Wanna tell me about it?” he asks softly.

You shake your head. He nods, staying silent but letting you lean against him. The steady rhythm of his fingers tracing small circles on your back is comforting.

Eventually, when you do start talking, he listens completely, muttering things like, “That sucks. You didn’t deserve that.” And when you’re done, he hugs you so tight you melt into his warmth.

You sigh. “Thanks, Shin.”

“Always.”

Gaku – Aggressively Protective but Sweet

Gaku’s first instinct is to fight whoever made you upset.

“Tell me who did it. I’ll break their legs.”

“It’s just been a bad day, Gaku,” you mumble.

He crosses his arms, still scowling, but then huffs. “Tch. Alright. Get up.”

Before you can protest, he drags you out for an impromptu stress relief mission. Whether it’s going to the arcade, smashing things at a break room, or even sparring (he does go easy on you), he refuses to let you sit and sulk.

By the time you’re clutching a giant stuffed prize he won for you, laughing at his stupid antics, you’re definitely feeling better. Gaku smirks, ruffling your hair.

“Knew I’d fix it.”

Natsuki Seba – Jokes and Gentle Comfort

Natsuki doesn’t even ask—you plop onto the couch, and he’s already tossing a blanket over you.

“Rough day? Same. Wanna be miserable together?” he jokes.

He lets you rest against him, cracking dumb jokes and showing you ridiculous videos on his phone. When you finally snort at one, he grins.

“There we go. My work here is done.”

If you want to talk, he listens with a quiet hum of acknowledgment. If you don’t, he just keeps playing with your hair until your grumpiness fades into sleep.

Shishiba – Silent Support, No Questions Asked

Shishiba takes one look at your face and simply places a drink next to you. No questions, no pushing—just quiet understanding.

When you finally let out a long sigh and lean into his side, he rests a hand on your back. “Better?”

You nod. He squeezes your shoulder, satisfied. That’s all you needed—him, steady and reliable, reminding you that no matter how bad your day is, he’ll always be there.

Heisuke Mashimo – Flustered but Trying His Best

Heisuke notices right away but panics internally.

“Uh—uhh, do you want a hug? Or space? Or food? Or—”

You sigh. “Just sit with me, Heisuke.”

“Oh. Okay!” He immediately plops down next to you, fidgeting.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, he suddenly stands up. “Wait! I know what’ll cheer you up!”

And then—he starts dancing. Badly. It’s so stupid that you burst out laughing. He gasps. “Wait, that worked?!”

You grab his arm, pulling him back down into a hug. “Yeah, it did. Thank you.”

He turns bright red but grins. “A-anytime.”

I hope you like it! Lmao, I kinda didn’t like the way I wrote it, I feel like I could’ve done better, but maybe I’m just overthinking it. Either way, I hope you enjoy it even a little!

#sakadays #sakamoto days x reader #sakamoto days #nagumo x reader #nagumo yoichi #nagumo yoichi x reader #shin asakura #natsuki seba #gaku x reader #heisuke mashimo #shin asakura x reader #shishiba x reader #sakamoto days shishiba #shishiba

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thef1diary · 7 months ago

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Staying Warm | D. Ricciardo

Merry Smutmas - Day 4: Body Heat

warnings: 18+ content, best friend!danny, porn w plot, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, praising, cockwarming.

— missed day 3? Read it here by @emchante

The cabin is dark, save for the flickering light of a dying fire and the moon shining in through the window. Snow falls steadily against the windows, the wind howling like it’s trying to claw its way inside, rattling the wooden frames with every gust. The cold has seeped through the walls, the floors, and now it’s creeping into your bones, relentless and unforgiving.

What was supposed to be a cozy little winter trip just a few days before Christmas had quickly turned into an unexpected nightmare. A snowstorm swept in out of nowhere, leaving you and Daniel stranded in this small, isolated cabin with no heat and no way to get back to civilization. The festive cheer you’d hoped for had turned into biting winds, and a frozen night in, the snow unravelling your plans with each gust.

Daniel sits huddled on the slightly worn-out couch, wrapped in what looks like every blanket the cabin has to offer. He’s a lump of fabric and layers—two sweatshirts, thermal pants, thick socks, and still, you can see the tension in his shoulders from how tightly he’s holding himself together against the cold. His nose and cheeks are flushed a deep pink, raw from the chill, and every so often, you hear his teeth chattering despite his best effort to clamp his jaw shut.

You’re not much better off though. Kneeling by the fireplace, you prod uselessly at the last few embers with a stick, watching as they glow weakly, barely clinging to life. Your hands tremble as you add another log, hoping—praying—it’ll catch, but the fire only crackles in protest before dimming even further.

Daniel shifts under his plethora of blankets and lets out a dramatic sigh, the breath clouding in the freezing air before dissolving. “Winter in Aus is never this bad,” he says, his voice muffled by the fabric around him but still carrying the familiar cheeky lilt. “Cold, yeah, but not this…brutal.”

You glance over your shoulder, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, and scoff. “You’re just soft.” The words come out sharper than intended, but you soften them with a teasing smile. “I’m used to snow like this, but it’s still a pain.”

Daniel chuckles, low and rough, and it rumbles through the stillness of the cabin, somehow warmer than the fire that’s threatening to give out. His eyes—bright despite the exhaustion—lock onto yours for a moment, amusement flickering in their depths. “Soft?” He repeats, feigning offence. “I‘m not soft.”

You arch an eyebrow, turning fully to face him now, sitting back on your heels. “No? Then why are bundled up like you’re heading to the North Pole?” You gesture toward the cocoon of blankets engulfing him, suppressing a smirk.

“It’s called being smart,” he counters, the corners of his lips twitching into a grin. “Survival instincts, you know? You could learn a thing or two.”

“Is that so?” you challenge, “I don’t remember survival instincts involving whining about the temperature every five seconds.”

His grin widens, even as another shiver racks through him. “I wasn’t whining…I was commenting.”

You roll your eyes. “Right ��commenting’.”

Another gust of wind slams against the cabin, rattling the windows, and you both fall silent for a moment, the cold pressing in like a living thing. Daniel shifts again, burrowing deeper into the blankets, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You know,” he says after a beat, his tone lighter now, teasing but carrying an undertone that makes your pulse quicken, “maybe you should come here and warm me up, since you’re apparently an expert now.”

You scoff slightly, pretending not to notice the way your stomach flips at his words. “Oh, is that what you need? Poor baby can’t handle the cold alone?”

He mutters your name in a dangerously low tone, edged with something darker. He rises to his feet in a shuffle of blankets and layers, a comical sight, but his gaze holds yours with an intensity that sends warmth curling low in your belly. He moves to the bed, glancing back at you with an eyebrow arched in a challenge. “C’mon, I’m in desperate need of heat and you don’t look too cold to me. Isn’t this what friends are for?”

You hesitate only for a moment before sighing and standing as well, the cold immediately biting at your limbs as you leave the dying fire’s warmth. Crossing the small room, you sink onto the bed beside him, tugging one of his blankets over your lap.

Daniel doesn’t waste a second. He leans into you immediately, his shoulder brushing against yours, and lets out an exaggerated groan of relief. “See?” He mutters, his voice muffled as he tugs the blankets higher around you both. “Living furnace.”

You snort softly, but you can’t deny the warmth radiating between you. It’s a stark contrast to the biting cold, and for a moment, it feels… nice. His arm brushes yours again, lingering just a second too long, and you try to ignore the spark of awareness that hums through you.

“Better?” You ask, your voice steady but quieter than you intended.

Instead of replying, Daniel shifts again, twisting and turning as though searching for the perfect position to soak up every bit of your warmth. His exaggerated sighs and muttered complaints make you roll your eyes, but the steady way he inches closer has your breath hitching.

“Seriously?” You murmur, half-amused, half-exasperated.

“I’m trying to survive,” he counters, his voice muffled as he nestles closer, pressing his chest against your back. Then, without warning, he groans softly, his hands sliding over your waist. His touch is firm but casual—almost too casual for a best friend, as if he’s testing how much you’ll tolerate. “You’re hoarding all the heat,” he accuses playfully.

You shift away from him for a moment, sitting up as his hands reluctantly slip from your waist. His immediate groan of complaint echoes through the small cabin. “Oh, come on,” he mutters, burrowing deeper into the blankets. “You’re leaving me to freeze?”

Ignoring his dramatics, you reach for the hem of your shirt and tug it off in one smooth motion. The cold air bites at your skin, but you keep your expression neutral as you glance down at him.

The playful complaint dies on his lips. He blinks up at you, momentarily stunned into silence, his eyes darkening as they skim over your form, now clad only in your bra.

“What?” you ask, arching your eyebrow. “This way body heat’s better, isn’t it?”

Daniel doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he seems to snap out of whatever daze he was in, his mouth curving into a lopsided grin. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, yet tinged with something heavier.

He sits up slightly, shedding his layers of shirts one by one without taking his eyes off you. His movements are hurried, like he’s eager to feel your body against his, and there’s palpable tension in the air as his bare chest is revealed. He lies back against the pillows and opens his arms to you.

You don’t hesitate, shifting closer to settle over him, your legs straddling his hips as he pulls you down against him. His arms wrap securely around your waist, holding you close as your chest presses against his. The warmth between you is instant, chasing away the lingering chill from the room.

Daniel tugs the blankets up again, covering you both in a cocoon of heat. “Better,” he states, answering your question from earlier. One hand stays at your waist, grounding and firm, while the other begins to move in soothing circles along your back. His fingers are gentle as they trace over the curve of your spine, dipping lower before skimming up again, his touch igniting sparks wherever it lingered.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs, his breath brushing against your temple as he presses a faint kiss there.

You let out a soft hum of agreement, your cheek resting against the curve of his shoulder as you relax into him. Despite the storm outside, the biting cold, and the oddity of your current position, this felt… safe. Comforting.

That was until Daniel’s fingers brushed beneath your bra, grazing your back, their warmth seeping into your skin in a way that feels anything but innocent. The touch was featherlight, almost unintentional, but it sent a jolt of awareness through you.

You bury your face into the curve of his neck, trying to suppress the shiver coursing through you. His scent—rich, woodsy, and undeniably him—overwhelms your senses, and you hum softly, your lips brushing against his skin in the process.

“Daniel,” you murmur, his name rolling off your tongue in a way that feels far too intimate for the situation.

His fingers pause at the sound of your voice, as if he’s weighing his next move, but they resume a moment later, teasing the clasp of your bra. He pulls at it gently, letting it snap back into place with a soft thrum against your skin. The sharp sensation makes you jolt, earning a low chuckle from him.

“You alright there?” he teases, his tone light but his hands anything but as they settle firmly on your hips.

Your breath hitches, and when you shift slightly to glance up at him, the movement causes your hips to press against his. Daniel groans softly, the sound reverberating through his chest, and you feel the unmistakable hardness of his cock pressing against your pussy. Even through the layers of fabric, the sensation is electric, and you can’t stop the wetness that begins pooling between your thighs.

A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you tilt your head, meeting his gaze. His honey-brown eyes are darker now, flickering with something deeper, something dangerous. “Still cold?” you tease, your voice soft and laced with mischief as your fingers trace idle patterns down the expanse of his bare chest.

He’s silent for a moment, debating his answer while his hands shift down to your hips, keeping you pinned against him. You lower your upper body towards him, your lips hovering just near his ear. Your voice drops into a whisper, low and intimate, meant just for him. “If you are,” you murmur, your breath brushing against the shell of his ear, “we might have to shed a few more clothes… you know, for more body heat.”

A wicked smirk curls on Daniel’s lips, and his gaze travels slowly over you, dark and unrelenting, igniting a fire in your belly that no amount of cold could extinguish. He turns his head slightly, just enough that his lips graze the edge of your jaw, an almost accidental touch that feels anything but.

“Strip,” he orders, his voice low and commanding, laced with a dangerous kind of amusement. “I’m freezing.”

Your heart stutters at the way his tone wraps around you, but you school your features into a calm mask, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze. “Demanding, aren’t we?” you murmur, though your hands move on their own accord, bracing against his chest as you shift slightly to allow him more access.

He doesn’t respond with words, just that same wicked smirk that only deepens when his hands find their way up your back. With practiced ease, his fingers locate the clasp of your bra, and with a single motion, he undoes it. The straps slacken against your shoulders, and he gives you a pointed look as if daring you to stop him.

You don’t. Instead, you let the straps slide down your arms, shrugging off the fabric and tossing it somewhere into the cabin without a second thought. The cool air bites at your skin for a moment before Daniel’s gaze warms you like a blazing fire. His eyes roam over you unabashedly, darkened with a hunger that sends heat pooling in your core.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself. His hands find their way to your chest, cupping your tits. His thumb lightly brushes your hardening nipples, earning a small gasp from you. “But if you really want to warm me up, your body heat won’t cut it.”

You narrow your eyes at him, confused.

“You’ll have to be more… specific,” he says, his voice rough with intent. With one fluid motion, he unbuttons your jeans. His fingers slip beneath the denim and find the lace of your panties.

“Maybe use your mouth,” he continues, his tone dropping even lower, raspier, as his thumb grazes over the growing wet patch against your panties. He pauses, letting his words hang in the charged air as his touch presses more firmly, deliberately rubbing the damp fabric. His eyes lock with yours, dark and filled with challenge.

“…Or even better,” he murmurs, his lips curving as his fingers begin to rub slow, deliberate circles against the soaked lace, “your cunt.”

The bluntness of his words sends a wave of heat through your body, and a soft whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it. Instinct takes over, and your hips shift, grinding down against his hand, seeking the friction you so desperately need.

His breath hitches at your movements, but he recovers quickly, his smirk broadening as he applies more pressure, matching the rhythm of your grinding with the movement of his fingers. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice softer now but no less intense. “Just like that, sweetheart.”

But just as the pressure begins to build, his fingers retreat, leaving you aching. He brings them up, glistening with your arousal, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly spreads the evidence between his fingers.

“So,” he drawls, his tone teasing yet firm. “Are you going to warm me up?” His chuckle deepens when you nod instantly, no hesitation in your answer.

Without warning, Daniel moves, his strong hands gripping your hips as he flips you onto your back. The sudden shift leaves you breathless, but before you can react, he’s already hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down along with your panties in one swift motion.

You blink at the efficiency of it, barely having time to process before he starts shedding his own clothes. A laugh bubbles out of you, soft and amused. “How many layers do you have on?”

His smirk turns into a crooked grin as he shrugs off his last piece of clothing. “Gotta stay warm somehow,” he quips.

Your laugh dies in your throat as your eyes drop to his cock. Big, hard, and already leaking pre-cum, it makes your breath hitch and your thighs instinctively part. Daniel catches the change in your expression and chuckles lowly, the sound dripping with satisfaction.

“Not laughing now, are you?” he teases, settling between your legs. His hands slide up your thighs, warm and firm, before he spreads you open. The cool air is nothing compared to the heat of his fingers as he glides them through your folds, pausing to circle your clit with deliberate precision.

“So warm,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “So wet for me.”

You bite your lip, a soft moan escaping as his thumb flicks over your clit again, his other hand bracing himself beside your head. “Danny,” you whisper, your voice breathy and full of need.

“Hmm?” He dips his head, brushing his lips against your neck as his cock slides through your folds, coating himself in your slick. The sensation sends shivers through you, and your hips lift instinctively, seeking more.

He chuckles against your skin, the vibrations making you squirm. “Impatient, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his tone teasing but thick with desire. He shifts slightly, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing but not quite pushing in.

“Please,” you breathe, your legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer.

He hums in approval, his hand slipping to grip your hip as he finally presses forward, the slow stretch making your breath catch. “That’s it,” he mutters, his voice rough and low. “Taking me so well, sweetheart.”

You cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he moves deeper, the sensation both overwhelming and perfect. “Daniel,” you gasp, the name a plea and a praise all at once.

Daniel’s hips move slowly at first, giving you time to adjust as he fills you completely. The deliberate drag of his cock against your walls sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, each thrust pulling soft, breathy moans from your lips. His gaze stays locked on yours, a mixture of desire and determination in his darkened eyes.

“You feel so good,” he mutters, his voice strained as he begins to pick up his pace. One hand moves down your body, his fingertips brushing over your sensitive clit. The sensation is immediate and electric, your back arching off the bed as his thumb circles the bundle of nerves. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “So perfect, so fucking perfect for me.”

Your hands tangle in his messy curls, pulling him closer until his mouth finds yours. The kiss is hot and desperate, all teeth and tongues, as if you’re both trying to devour the other. His groan vibrates against your lips, and you tug harder, relishing the way he seems to lose himself in you.

The heat between you grows, a sheen of sweat forming on both your bodies as the intensity builds. His chest glistens as it presses against yours, his breath ragged and uneven as he pulls back just enough to shift your legs. With ease, he tosses them over his shoulders, your ankles now resting against his collarbone. The new angle has him thrusting deeper, the force of it pulling a loud, unabashed moan from you.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pounds into you. Each thrust sends you closer to the edge, the tension in your core tightening with every movement. Your hands clutch at the sheet as the overwhelming pleasure threatens to consume you.

“Daniel,” you whimper, your voice trembling as you feel yourself inch closer and closer.

“I’ve got you,” he reassures, his voice rough and full of need. His thumb presses harder against your clit, the added stimulation sending sparks shooting through your entire body. “Let go for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you.”

His words are all it takes to push you over the edge. Your body tenses, a loud cry spilling from your lips as the orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure rippling through every nerve. Daniel doesn’t let up, riding you through it, his thrusts erratic now as he chases his own release.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head falling back for a moment before his movements still, his cock buried deep inside you as he spills, the warmth of him filling you completely. He stays there for a moment, his breaths ragged as he slowly lowers your legs, his hands gentle as they massage the marks he’s left on your skin.

Daniel’s breath is still uneven as he starts to pull back, the soft drag of his cock making your oversensitive walls clench around him. Before he can fully withdraw, your legs tighten around his waist, locking him in place.

“Stay,” you whisper, your voice soft but commanding. Your eyes meet his, full of heat and something else, something softer. “Wanna keep you warm.”

Daniel freezes for a moment, his chest still heaving against yours. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face, a mix of mischief and satisfaction. Who was he to deny you? Especially when every inch of him thrummed with the need to stay exactly where he was, buried deep inside you.

He shifts, resettling his hands on your hips as you both adjust your positions. Carefully, you guide him back onto his back, straddling him once again. It’s almost like it was before, the only difference now is that you’re both completely bare with his cock buried deep inside you.

Settling against him, you let out a contented sigh, your body melting into his warmth. His hands return to their place, skimming lazily over your back, his touch soothing as his thumbs trace slow, idle patterns on your skin.

“This trip didn’t turn out so bad,” he muses, his voice low and relaxed. His lips brush against your temple as he speaks, “you just might’ve changed my mind about winter.”

You lift your head, curiosity etched into your expression as you peer at him. Your eyebrows furrow slightly, and you can’t help but ask, “Being stuck in a cabin because of a snowstorm changed your mind? Out of all the things?”

Daniel’s lips twist into a slow, confident grin. “If I have you wrapped around my cock every day of winter to keep me warm, it’ll quickly become my favourite season.”

taglist: @lilorose25 @thenotoriouserg @a-distantdreamer @leclercsluvs @fat-meh @wintxr-widow @amirahart @alishamai

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t1red-twilight · 3 months ago

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one bed

summary: one bed trope with bobby😩🤚💜

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, forced proximity, pining, jake seresin plotting

wc: 0.8k

masterlist b. f. masterlist

the crew had decided to go on a road trip, and conveniently, jake booked one room short. you had insisted that you’d just find another motel nearby, seeing as they were a dime a dozen in the area you were in. bob, the sweetheart he was, insisted that you stay and he leave.

and, of course, jake “solved” your problem by introducing the concept that you two stay together. the glaring issue being that neither of you were confrontational enough to say no to the other. you did not want to hurt bob’s feelings, at all. before anything else could happen, jake shoved the key in your hand and sent you on your way.

another issue quickly presented itself: there was only one bed. cliche, and way too convenient for this to be a coincidence. you weren’t blind to how seresin (teamed up with bradley, on some occasions) sat you and bob together. it did not help that you turned bright tomato red when in the same room as bob either.

who could blame you? he was so sweet and kind, and incredibly easy on the eyes. you were surprised that bob hadn’t caught on yet but you weren’t going to push your luck.

you pushed the key into the lock and opened the door, only to be met with one queen bed sitting proudly in the center of the room. the pieces slid into place: of course jake would pull so thing like this. you could practically hear jake cackling at the idea.

put the nervous wreck with the very reason they hyperventilated in the same room and expect them the share a bed. hilarious.

“i can take the floor,” you said. the motel looked clean, but did not have a couch. only a sad cuck chair mocked you from the corner.

bob looked at you incredulously. “what? no you’re not. i will.” you shook your head in protest.

“no, bob. it’s fine, i promise. don’t worry about it.” you had already moved to grab a blanket from the closet, only to see that there wasn’t one.

you felt bob encroach on you from behind. “this place is too cheap for extra amenities, go figure. not that i’d let you hurt your back on the floor anyway,” bob stated. he was much closer than you anticipated. you could practically feel the vibrations from his voice on your neck. “if it’s alright with you, i’m fine sharing the bed.”

you turned and tried to keep the flush on your face to to a minimum (even though you knew the effort was fruitless). “yeah, um- that’s fine with me.” that was mostly a full sentence, good enough.

you traded off getting ready for bed in a mostly comfortable silence. when time came to actually address the awkward elephant in the room, bob had a simple request. “can i take the bed by the door?”

“yes, that’s fine. i don’t mind.” you slipped into the side by the window and laid down stiffly. the bed dipped as bob slid under the sheets. the mattress was fine enough.

a few minutes passed. the only to be heard was the hum from the clock on the nightstand. “i’m going to turn the heater on, is that okay?” you asked. the chill from the night air has seeped into the room and begun to sink into your bones.

bob hummed in affirmation before responding, “that’s fine with me.”

you walked over the the heater unit under the window and fiddled with it. nothing. you rapidly pressed the power button, still nothing. the temp screen was blank, even after you assaulted the “increase” toggle. you exhaled exasperatedly.

“everything okay?” bob asked.

you pinched the grudge of your nose. “it’s broken. it won’t even turn on.”

“you mind if i check?” you mumbled a quiet ‘go ahead,’ and bob walked over. you sat on the bed as he, more patiently than you, messed with the machine. “yep. it’s definitely broken,” he stood with his hands on his hips.

you had begun to shiver at this point. “i would say that we could ask for a room change, but i doubt they have enough rooms for that.”

bob paused for moment, clearly in thought. “if you don’t mind, we could just…share body heat?” your jaw tensed at the thought of getting to be that close to him. “sorry, that might be weird.”

“no!” you said, a little too quickly. “no, that’s okay with me. but only if it’s okay with you.”

“i’m perfectly okay with it,” if it wasn’t so dark, the look on his face might have seemed like he was…smiling?

bob walked around the bed and got underneath again, you mirrored him. he held one of his arms out, gesturing you toward him. tentatively, you scooted over. you laid down on his chest and his arm curled around your back. your torso was up against his, legs brushing against each other.

you’d never admit it out loud, but he smelled quite nice. fresh like laundry and eucalyptus. each of his breaths tickled your scalp, and lulled you into a trance-like state. “are you warm?” he questioned.

“yes, thank you,” you responded. he pulled you in just a little bit tighter and your breath hitched. quickly after that you fell asleep, bob following soon after.

#lee’s writing <3 #bob floyd #x reader #fluff #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick

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cressidagrey · 3 months ago

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The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 23

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes:

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

We are wrapping up loose plot threads so: Hungary 2024, WHICH I FIXED (kinda). My questionable understanding of racing strategy? Crocheting.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando had seen Lizzie nervous before—before a book signing, even before their first public appearance together—but this was an entirely new level. She was sitting in the passenger seat, gripping the hem of her sweater so tightly that he was surprised the fabric hadn’t ripped yet.

“Lizzie,” he said gently.

She exhaled sharply. “Lando, I don’t think you understand. Your sisters have read my books.”

“Yeah, they love them.”

“That’s the problem!” She turned to him, eyes wide with panic. “What if your mum has read them? What if she’s read the spicy parts? Lando, I wrote those scenes!”

He tried—he really did—to keep a straight face, but a laugh escaped before he could stop it. “Liz, I hate to break it to you, but my mum is a grown woman who had four kids. She’s not going to combust if she reads a bit of smut.”

Lizzie looked at him like he’d just blasphemed. “That’s your mum! God, Lando, you’re missing the point.”

“Oh, I have a point,” he said, still trying not to laugh. “And that point is, you’re making this way too big a deal.”

She scowled at him, whacking him with the back of her hand. “You’re being extremely unhelpful right now.”

He caught her hand, grinning. “Hey, I’m just providing perspective. But if you want to keep being nervous on your own, be my guest.”

Lizzie huffed but didn’t pull away from his grip. “Why do I feel like you’re enjoying my freaking out?”

He squeezed her hand, still amused. “Because it’s entertaining to watch.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but the effect was diminished by the way she was worrying her bottom lip. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

Lando bit back a smirk, bringing her hand to his mouth and pressing a small kiss to her knuckles. “Maybe I am.”

“Your dad is a millionaire, Lando,” she muttered as they pulled into the driveway. “What if he thinks I’m using you for your money?”

Lando couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “What?”

Lizzie huffed, glaring at him. “Don’t laugh at me! It’s a valid concern!”

He tried—and failed—to regain his composure. “You’re worried my dad is going to think you’re a gold digger?”

Lizzie nodded, looking at him with wide, earnest eyes. Lando bit back another laugh, shaking his head. “Liz, love, you really worry too much.”

“I’m serious, Lando!” she protested. “People talk, okay? And with your family’s background, I can’t blame them. How am I supposed to convince them that I’m not just some fangirl with a talent for writing dirty scenes?” Her eyes widened. “Oh my god, I am,“ she whispered.

“Come on,” he coaxed, reaching over to squeeze her knee. “They already love you.”

“They don’t know me.”

“They know of you. And they’re excited to meet you properly. Trust me, they’re more likely to make me uncomfortable than you.”

Lizzie lifted her head, narrowing her eyes. “Why?”

Lando smirked. “Because they’re probably going to tell you all the embarrassing things I did as a kid.”

That seemed to help—at least a little. She huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. “If they bring out baby photos, I’m taking pictures.”

“Traitor.”

“Survival.”

He chuckled, shaking his head before unbuckling his seatbelt.

Lizzie did the same, taking a deep breath. When Lando walked over to her side of the car and held out his hand, she took it, gripping it tightly.

“Ready?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, but she climbed out of the car anyway.

Mara jumped out of the backseat with a wagging tail, immediately tucking herself against Lizzie's side.

Lizzie laughed, giving the dog a quick scratch on the head. Lando watched her intently, noticing how tense she still was.

He moved forward, placing a hand on the small of her back. “Breathe,” he told her softly.

She let out a shaky exhale, leaning into his touch. "I'm trying," she muttered, sounding a little less nervous.

They began the short walk toward the door, Mara trotting happily ahead of them. Lando could feel Lizzie trembling a little under his touch.

“Remember," he murmured against her ear, "they’re going to be just as nervous as you, if not more."

Lizzie shot him a disbelieving look but didn’t have time to say anything as the door swung open.

The front door opened before they even reached it. His mum stood there, beaming, and before Lizzie could get a word out, Cisca pulled her into a warm hug.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s so good to finally meet you.”

Lizzie tensed for a split second, then melted. “You too, Mrs. Norris. Thank you for having me.”

“Cisca,” his mum corrected, stepping back. “And please, we’ve been waiting for ages to meet you. Lando keeps you all to himself.”

Lizzie shot Lando a look, and he just grinned. “Told you.”

His mother stepped back, still smiling. “Well, now that I’ve got you in person, it makes sense why Lando's been so distracted." She cast a sly glance in Lando's direction. He just rolled his eyes.

"Mum," he said, a warning tone to his voice.

His mother just laughed, patting his cheek affectionately. “Oh, don’t you mum me.” She turned back to Lizzie, linking their arms together. “Now, come on. We’ve got lunch ready.”

Lando let them walk ahead, watching how easily his mum settled Lizzie. Even when he was a kid, his mum had always had a way of making people feel comfortable. Now, it seemed Lizzie was on the receiving end of that skill.

They headed inside, the rest of the family waiting in the living room. They all stood when they entered, and though Lando wasn’t surprised to see the eager curiosity on their faces, he still shot them a warning look. His brother in particular looked like he was preparing to say or do anything to embarrass him.

“Finally!” Oliver stood , arms crossed, grinning like an idiot. “The Elizabeth Treshton, in the flesh. Lando has been hoarding you." His brother wasted no time. “Alright,, I have questions,” he announced brightly. “First of all, how did this idiot pull you? Second, how long did it take before you realized he’s an absolute menace? Third—”

Adam Norris appeared in the doorway, shaking his head fondly. “Leave her alone, Oliver.”

Oliver just grinned. “No can do, Dad. She willingly signed up for Lando. I need answers.”

Adam shot Lando a look. “You should’ve known bringing her here would be opening her up to interrogation.”

Lizzie was trying hard not to laugh, but her eyes were sparkling. Lando couldn’t tell if that was from nerves or amusement.

"I have questions!" And there was his youngest sister. He should have known that neither Flo or Cisca were going to be normal.

"Of course you do," Lando muttered.

Flo ignored him and beamed at Lizzie. “I have questions too!"

His mother rolled her eyes at her children, stepping forward. “How about we hold off on the interrogation until after lunch?” She placed a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder, offering the slightest bit of reprieve. “I think poor Lizzie here needs a moment to readjust before we barrage her with questions.”

"But I have book questions!" Flo said quickly.

"And you can ask those during lunch," His mother assured her, steering Lizzie away. "Give the girl a chance to breathe."

"Fine, fine," Oliver said, flopping back onto the couch like a disgruntled teenager.

Adam chuckled. “Maybe try not to scare the poor woman off in the first five minutes?”

"Oh, no worries there," Oliver drawled. "She put up with Lando, right? Everything else will be a breeze."

Lando just rolled his eyes.

Adam laughed, clapping Lando on the back. “Don’t act like that comment wasn’t 100% accurate.”

Lizzie slipped right in the midst of his family, like she always had belonged there. Keeping up with his sisters' rapid-fire Q and A, his very fascinated toddler niece who kept staring at Mara, who sat next to Lizzie, as well-behaved as always...

It was almost surreal to watch the scene unfold. Lizzie was already comfortable with his family, chatting and laughing, easily deflecting questions and answering others. Even his sisters had given up their attempts at embarrassing him, too interested in Lizzie to bother with him now.

He watched all this, trying to keep the smile off his face. It wasn’t until his dad walked over and stood next to him did Lando realize he hadn’t said anything in a while.

Adam clapped Lando on the back, his tone warm. “You picked a good one, son.”

Lando’s chest filled with quiet pride as he watched Lizzie laugh at something Flo had said.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “I really did.”

He should have known that something was going to go wrong.

It started with Mara.

She’d been lying calmly at Lizzie’s feet one second, then suddenly sprang up, ears perked, tail stiff. She nudged Lizzie’s leg with her nose, then her arm. Insistent. Focused.

Lizzie stilled.

Lando was already frowning. “Liz?”

She exhaled slowly, looking down at Mara before turning toward him. “I’m going to have a seizure.”

Just like that. Simple. Direct. As if she were telling him it might rain later.

Lando shot to his feet. “What—what do I—”

A tense silence fell across the room as the others picked up on the situation. Lizzie reached out, fingers skimming Mara’s head as she struggled to keep her breaths even. She was already pale, a thin sheen of sweat gleaming on her forehead.

His mum was the first to recover, her expression calm but her voice sharp. "How do you want to handle this, sweetheart?"

"I need to go lay down," Lizzie said, her voice careful. "I should have a few minutes until it hits."

Everyone else was still reeling, frozen in shock, but Lando’s mind snapped into focus. “Right. Yeah. Come on.”

He crossed the room, gently tugging Lizzie to her feet. She leaned on him, her weight a little heavier than usual.

“Lando,” Adam said, “we can—”

“I’ve got it,” he said, cutting his dad off. He shifted Lizzie’s weight, supporting her as best he could. “Just...give us some space, okay?”

His dad nodded, clearly wanting to say more, but holding back for Lizzie's sake. Lando appreciated the effort.

He half-carried Lizzie out the door, Mara sticking close to them. The dog knew as well as Lando did – something was wrong.

The walk to his old room felt like it took an eternity.

As soon as they reached it, Lizzie was already moving, sinking down to the floor like she’d done this a hundred times before. Maybe she had.

"What do you need?" he asked her, sawllowing.

“Nothing,” she said. “You don’t have to do anything.” She stretched out, lying flat on her side, arms loose, legs bent just slightly. Mara settled near her head, pressed close but not touching.

Lando hated how practiced it was.

His pulse hammered in his throat. He dropped down beside her, panic clawing at his ribs. “Lizzie—”

“If you can’t watch it, I get it,” she murmured, voice calm, even as something flickered in her expression. “But don’t touch me.”

Lando’s hands clenched into fists.

“I— I can watch,” he said, even though his entire body screamed otherwise. “I’m not leaving you.”

Lizzie managed a weak smile, but her eyes were already going glassy. "Okay," she whispered. "But don't blame yourself." And then her breath hitched, and her body began to tremble.

And then she was gone.

Her body tensed, jerking suddenly, violently. Her hands curled, fingers twitching erratically. Lando could hear her breathing shift—harsh, uneven. It was awful.

He dug his nails into his palms, forcing himself to stay still, to stay calm.

It felt like forever.

In reality, it was barely a minute.

Then, as quickly as it began, it ended.

Lizzie sagged against the floor, still, quiet except for her uneven breaths. Mara whined softly, nuzzling against her arm.

Lando moved carefully, shifting onto his knees.

“Liz?” he asked, voice tight. “Can you hear me?”

A long pause. Then, a weak murmur: “Mm. Hate that part.”

Relief hit him so hard he nearly choked on it. He exhaled sharply, pressing a shaking hand over his face. “Yeah,” he said, voice thick. “Me too.”

Lizzie cracked one eye open, exhausted but there. “You okay?”

Lando let out a strangled laugh. “Am I okay?”

Lizzie blinked at him like it was a genuine question.

“Jesus Christ, Lizzie.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “That was awful.”

She hummed, voice drowsy. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t—don’t apologize—”

“I’m fine,” she mumbled.

Lando swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah. Okay. But I still hate it.”

Lizzie sighed, shifting slightly, her limbs sluggish. “Me too.”

He watched as Mara pressed in closer, her body warm against Lizzie’s side. Lando reached out slowly, brushing damp hair away from Lizzie’s forehead.

She leaned into the touch, just barely.

Lando swallowed hard. “You’re okay,” he murmured.

Lizzie didn’t answer—already half-asleep in the aftermath.

But she was breathing.

She was safe.

And he would make sure she always stayed that way.

He wasn't sure how much time went by, but eventually, soft footsteps sounded at the doorway. He glanced up to see his mum standing there, her face pale, expression carefully neutral. She took in the situation for a moment, her eyes lingering on Lizzie before looking to Lando. There was a silent question on her face, and Lando nodded to her. She exhaled softly, nodding to herself, before speaking quietly.

"Is she alright?"

Lando's voice felt like gravel in his throat. "She's fine. She'll probably sleep for awhile."

His mum stepped more into the room, taking in the sight of Lizzie on the floor. A deep frown pinched her brow, like she was trying to hold back her emotions.

Lando looked back at Lizzie, reaching out and brushing his fingers gently over her damp hair. Just the sight of her sleeping peacefully was enough to soothe some of the wild panic from earlier, but his heart still ached.

"Does...has this happened before?" His mum's voice was quiet and careful, as if she were worried about upsetting him.

"I've never seen it," he admitted weakly. "I knew she had epilepsy. I have seen her after a seizure...but I never saw her seize," Lando admitted, swallowing. "How can a mother see this and then decide to leave?"

"Lando..." his mum's voice was gentle, almost like she was bracing him for something.

Lando's heart felt heavy. "I just don't understand how someone could—" he cut himself off when his voice broke, trying again. "I don't understand how someone could just leave their child like that."

His mum crossed the room, sitting beside him and pressing a hand to his shoulder. "I don't think most people will ever be able to understand that, hon. I can't," she admitted freely. "If I imagine that it's Flo or Cisca in her place...nobody would have gotten me away from my daughter," his mother said fiercely.

He swallowed down a lump in his throat, his voice tight. "That's because you wouldn't leave her," he said, voice low. "You'd never go without her. You'd fight to stay every step of the way. And you sure as hell wouldn't give up on her."

There was a beat as he stared at the floor, and he barely registered his mum wrapping an arm around his shoulders. She pulled him into a tight hug, and he couldn't help but bury his face against her shoulder, eyes stinging.

His breath hitched. "I just... I can't imagine just walking away from her."

"Then don't," his mother said simply. "Don't be like her mother. Don't walk away. Talk with her and the next time it will happen, it will still feel horrid. You'll never get used to it. But you'll learn to live with it."

The words hit Lando like a weight to the chest. For a moment, he just sat there, absorbing them. His first instinct was to disagree. He would never, ever be like Lizzie’s mother. He could never abandon her like that.

But then...

His mum was right. He'd never get used to the idea of him just standing by and watching while she suffered. No matter how many times he would see her seize, it would still be torture for him.

But this wasn’t about him.

This was about Lizzie. Lizzie, who needed to live with an invisible illness that could be controlled to the best of modern medicine's knowledge, but never cured completely.

And Lando would rather live through the torture of seeing her have a seizure a hundred times than to let her go. To leave. To let her deal with it alone.

***

Lizzie woke up feeling like she’d been wrung out, every muscle sore and heavy, her head pounding with the dull, familiar ache of exhaustion. She blinked at the ceiling, willing herself to move, but even that felt like too much effort.

Then she remembered.

Lando.

The seizure.

How he’d seen it—how he’d stayed.

Her stomach twisted.

Carefully, she turned her head.

Lando was lying on his side, facing her. He was awake. Had he even slept? His hair was an absolute mess, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were sharp, studying her closely.

Lizzie had always known this moment would come.

She’d warned Lando about it early on—matter-of-factly, no dramatics. She had epilepsy. She had seizures.

But knowing about something and seeing it were two very different things.

And she’d lost people to the latter before.

Her mother couldn’t handle it. The fear, the helplessness, the exhaustion of watching and not being able to do anything. It was too much. So she left.

Lizzie didn’t blame her.

But she also knew what it felt like to be too much for someone to love.

Lando held her gaze, the silence stretching painfully between them.

She swallowed hard, bracing for it - the looks of concern, the pity, the thinly veiled excuses.

Then Lando spoke, his voice rough and quiet.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I lost a fight with a freight train.”

Lando’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I figured.”

The silence between them was heavy.

Lizzie forced herself to push up onto her elbows, ignoring the way her body protested. “Lando—”

He cut her off with a shake of his head, his eyes never leaving her. “Stop talking.”

She went silent, staring at him. His gaze was like a steady weight, pinning her in place.

He inhaled slowly, as if steeling himself.

“I’m not going anywhere, Liz.”

Her breath caught. She'd been bracing herself for rejection, for distance. For fear and confusion and pity.

But Lando was just...looking at her. Just like that. Not like she was broken. Not like she was different now. He was just looking at her.

“You’re not?” Her voice was a whisper, vulnerable and terrified in spite of herself.

He shook his head. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Something stirred in her chest. Hope, maybe.

Or maybe it was something else.

She swallowed, trying to get control of her emotions. “Most people don’t stick around after they see it.”

Something flickered across his face—something sharp, something angry. “Well, they’re idiots.”

Lizzie huffed a small, tired laugh. “Maybe.”

Lando shifted closer, hesitating before reaching out. His fingers brushed lightly over her wrist, careful, almost hesitant.

“Did it scare you?” she asked softly.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers curled around her hand, grounding both of them. “I hated seeing you like that,” he admitted, voice low. “Knowing and seeing aren’t the same thing.”

She sighed, exhaustion pressing against her bones. “No. They’re not.”

Lando shifted again, his thumb sweeping over the back of her hand. “Your mum couldn’t handle it.”

It wasn’t a question.

Lizzie swallowed. “No.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then—“I’m not her.”

Lizzie’s chest ached, and not from the seizure.

“I know.”

Lando’s fingers squeezed hers. “Do you?”

She let out a slow breath. “Yeah. I do.”

“Good.” His voice softened, but the weight of his words remained. “Because I need you to believe that I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes stung with held-back tears. She clenched her jaw, willing herself not to cry. “You can’t possibly know that.”

Lando’s expression remained steady, but she could see the determination in his eyes. "I do know that,” he said softly. “I know me, Liz. How I feel. What I can handle. And I can tell you with complete certainty that I’m not leaving. You can’t get rid of me now even if you tried.”

She tried to keep her voice steady, but her breath hitched on a stifled sob. “What if it changes though? What if one day you can’t—”

“Liz.” He cut her off, his tone firm but not unkind. “Stop it. Stop worrying about what-ifs. This is my choice. I’m staying. End of story.”

“But—”

He cut her off again, his grip on her hand tightening, as if he could force her to believe him through touch alone. “No buts. This is a non-negotiable for me.” He took another deep breath, his voice growing even quieter. “I’m not your mother, Liz. You are not too much. And I’m not scared. Got it?”

Something crumbled inside her, some long-held piece of fear disintegrating in the face of his steady, certain gaze.

Her throat felt tight, and she could feel the tears threatening to spill over.

“Got it?” He repeated, his thumb rubbing softly over her knuckles.

There was something pleading in his voice—a silent plea for her to understand, to believe him.

And she realized in that moment, as he held her hand and looked at her with so much certainty...she did.

She believed him.

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