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little-diable · 2 months

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Catching Stars With Racing Hearts – Tyler Owens (smut)

Some of you may know that there is nothing I love more than a starry sky. So I had to write this. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader has been storm chasing with different groups for years, and yet she always finds herself going back to her favourite tornado wrangler. The tornado wrangler who lures her away in the middle of the night to finally go stargazing with the woman he's crushing on.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, outdoor smut, slight spanking and choking, teasing, lots of fluff, two idiots in love

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3k words)

The night wrapped itself around her body, letting the soft breeze tease her limbs as (y/n) let her eyes take in the people scattered across the parking lot of the motel. It was a familiar sight, numerous storm chasers came together, forming a group of friends and rivals who were set on chasing the strongest tornadoes for a few weeks. She had been part of this ever growing group for a while, joining different teams whenever she needed a few weeks of distraction, fully focused on her friends and their search for tornadoes.

(Y/n)’s eyes kept wandering until they spotted an all too familiar truck. Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze found his frame, watching him fumble with some of his gear as he sat on top of the truck, letting his feet dangle off the edge. Tyler Owens, the tornado wrangler she had known for longer than she could remember, a man she had instantly been drawn to from the first moment on.

He was a player, a man with a constant smile glued to his lips to woo whoever was crossing paths with him. It was nothing but a game to him, something she had been forced to watch unfold too many times to count, and yet it always felt different when they were together. He had never made a move on her, besides the flirting she craved like a drug she couldn’t stay away from, called to her death in the stormy sea by a siren who knew how to lure her to her end with its mere presence.

Slowly, (y/n) set into motion, walking towards Tyler and his group with her arms wrapped around her middle, shielding herself from the cold. It took them a moment to notice her approaching frame, letting their eyes snap towards (y/n) the second Boone shouted her name with a grin tugging on his lips. Within seconds she was wrapped up in different hugs, drawing laughs from her as she greeted them all.

“I was wondering when you’d grace us with your presence, pretty.” Tyler’s voice drew her eyes towards him, looking up at the handsome man. He reached his hand out, luring her closer and up the ladder to find her spot next to him. The scent of his cologne instantly wrapped itself around (y/n), a deadly mixture of rain, leather, and a hint of something reminding her of home, cozying her along as he wrapped one arm around her middle to pull her against his side. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright, excited to see you guys.” She let her eyes flicker back to the others, who seemed to busy themselves with their tasks, offering the two of them an unfamiliar chance to focus on one another. Tyler's lips pressed a kiss to her hairline before he let go of her, letting his hand find its way back to the antenna he fumbled around with. “What have you been up to, Owens?”

“We both know you’re watching our streams, you know exactly what I’ve been doing these past weeks.” With her trembling fingers interlaced in her lap, (y/n) rolled her eyes at Tyler who studied her with a wide smirk. Heat rose up to her face, forcing her eyes away from his for a second to collect herself.

“You’re so full of yourself, Owens. Your love for yourself keeps growing every time we meet, it's no surprise no tornado got you and your heavy ego yet.” The loud laugh that clawed through Tyler made (y/n) chuckle, relishing in the sight of the happiness he emanated, radiating off him. Her heart struggled to keep up with being around the man, struggling to stay away when he was everything she craved.

“What can I say? We both know I’m the only wrangler you’ll ever be into.” He dipped his head down to press a kiss to her warm cheek before he let go of the antenna. The spot he had touched with his lips was burning, leaving a tingling sensation that distracted her from the way he began to move around. Only as she felt him settle behind her, wrapping his arm around (y/n)’s middle to pull her against his broad chest did she snap out of it again.

Tyler held her caged against him, pulling (y/n) closer while his breath teased her neck, “This okay?”

She could only nod, could only reach for his hand to place hers on top of it, unable to use her words. It wasn’t the first time she was close to him, and yet it was so much more than whatever they had done before, sweet touches that were laced with something she had tried not to overanalyse. Her thumb stroked the back of his hand as he spoke to his team, sharing his food order before ordering for (y/n) too, knowing exactly what she’d like to have without having to ask her.

And all she did was give in, rest against his chest as if the weight of the world was no longer sitting on her shoulders, allowing Tyler to carry it all. A part of her always begged (y/n) to speak up, to confess the longing she felt whenever she was away from him, whenever she was chasing with others but was thinking of being by his side, even when she lay awake late at night with her thoughts set on him. But the stronger part always managed to hold her back, not daring to mess with what they had going on between them.

“Did you find time to go stargazing yet?” Tyler mumbled his words against her ear, making shudders buzz down her spine. Weeks ago she had told him about her wish to go stargazing around this area, needing to seize the chance when they were so far away from bigger lights.

“No, I haven't found any free time.” He only hummed before he pressed a kiss to the spot beneath her ear, leaving her shuddering once again. She wanted to ask Tyler to join her, wanted to spend some more time with him without the others near, but the sight of Lilly and Boone returning with their food stopped the words from rolling off her tongue, held back by her disappointment.

Tyler kept his arm wrapped around her waist as he reached for the bag Lilly reached out for him to take, pulling (y/n) even closer. Her blood was singing in her ears, silencing her spiralling thoughts that begged her to run, to search the distance once again before she’d get lost in Tyler Owens and everything he was and she could never be. But the way Tyler held onto her all too tightly forced her to hold still as if he was too aware of the way she was close to running from him once again.

……

The sound of somebody knocking on the door of her motel room ripped (y/n) out of her sleep. It took her a second to adjust to the darkness she was engulfed by, looking at the time that read 03:15 while rising to her feet to stumble towards the door.

“Tyler? What’s going on?” He was leaning against the door frame, eyes wandering down her frame to study the long sleep shirt she wore. Even in her drowsy state he managed to make her feel more alive than ever before, letting the heat of his gaze flush through her veins.

She didn’t anticipate it, didn’t pick up on the way he moved closer to cup her cheek with his big hand. Tyler seemed to give her a moment to pull away should she feel uncomfortable, but all (y/n) did was stare up at him, gasping in surprise the second he crossed the distance between them. His lips fit onto hers all too perfectly, begging hers to move in sync with his as his free hand found her waist to pull (y/n) flush against his front.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” His confession left her chuckling, staying glued to him while he mumbled the words against her tingling lips.

“That’s all you woke me up for? A kiss that couldn’t wait until mornin-” his lips found hers again to interrupt (y/n)’s teasing. He squeezed her side, drawing a laugh out of her while wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Get dressed, I’m taking you stargazing.” Tyler gave her a soft push back, trying to keep his distance while she stared at him with an almost dreamy gaze. She needed a few breaths to fully function, turning from Tyler to put on her jeans and boots before she allowed him to pull her out of the room and towards his truck.

Since it was the middle of the night, the moment gave them just enough time to be alone together before the others would wake, set on chasing a new adrenaline high with tornadoes (y/n) would document. Her heart swelled in her chest as she watched Tyler drive them away from the motel, wearing a smile that was softer than all the others – mainly cocky ones – he had worn around her before, offering her a glimpse of the man hiding behind this perfect persona he had crafted over the past years.

“Thank you for this, Tyler. I don't think I would have actually done this on my own.” She leaned over the middle console to press a kiss to Tyler’s cheek. He didn’t reply, simply let his smile grow into a bright grin while he drove them further through the darkness. (Y/n) had a hard time ripping her gaze from his features, trying to focus on the twinkling stars she had been aching to see.

The truck came to a halt in the middle of a field, letting the night wrap them in her embrace as they climbed up the ladder moments later. No words were spoken between them, eyes fully focused on the sky that was covered in millions of stars. Her heart was clenching in her chest, struggling to take in this beauty she had been aching to see for a while, not finding the time away to properly sit down for a few hours and simply get lost in this sight.

Tyler laid down on his back, arms crossed behind his head while he had his eyes focused on her awestruck features. For a moment, she let herself look down at him, unable to bite down her smile. She kept quiet as she laid down next to him, letting Tyler pull her against his chest.

“Will you kiss me again?” (Y/n)’s whispered question got no verbal reply, all Tyler did was dip his head down to capture her lips in a searing kiss, communicating the emotions he struggled to put into words. Without breaking the kiss, she shuffled around to pull herself onto his lap, needing to feel him close.

Tyler shifted his weight onto his left forearm, while his free hand got tangled in her hair. Her body begged her to search this sensation, to dig deeper and see how far they would take it out here where nobody could see or interrupt them. Longings she had tried to swallow for a while now, unable to shake them whenever Tyler was breathing the same air as she was.

“We gotta stop, pretty, before I can’t stop myself.” His raspy words made her ache for more, needing to hear him speak sinful words she would think of whenever she was alone again and desperate for his touch.

“Don’t stop, don’t you dare.” (Y/n) mumbled the words against his grinning lips while her hips pressed her closer to him, drawing a groan from Tyler. He stared up at her with piercing eyes, getting lost in the buzzing atmosphere that made them feel as if they were touched by a higher power.

“You’ll be the death of me, darlin’.” Tyler pulled her in for another kiss, allowing (y/n) to toy with the buckle of his belt. But he didn’t let her get far, catching her hand before she could try to undo it.

“Climb down.” With confusion pushing through her, (y/n) climbed down the ladder of his truck, watching Tyler follow her moments later. His lips found their way back to hers, drawing a soft moan from her as he guided (y/n) towards the front of the truck. Only as she felt the car press against her back did he pull away, staring down at (y/n) with a smirk that made her thighs tremble.

“Keep your eyes on the sky.” Tyler turned her around to press her front down on the hood of his truck. He kicked her feet apart before one arm found its way around her waist to undo the button of her jeans. The fabric was pushed down, exposing the sight of her panties covering her ass – a sight so heavenly, Tyler found himself wondering if he had died while chasing and had been sent straight to the pearly gates.

“Is this the full Tyler Owens experience I hear your fans talk about?” She was riling him up, very well knowing that this moment was just as special to him – and yet (y/n) was aching for more, set on teasing him until he’d snap and treat her like she knew he wanted to. Tyler’s hand squeezed her behind, letting his fingertips dig into her skin to leave marks she’d take home like a souvenir reminding her of this very trip.

“Careful, baby, I want to take my time with you, want to do this properly.” His words forced goosebumps to rise on her skin – sensations that were buzzing through her like a wildfire, unable to bite down the unfamiliar heat. Tyler’s fingertips carefully pushed her panties aside, teasing her folds while both let go of a soft groan.

“You can take your time another day. I need you to fuck me, Owens. I’m growing bored here.” She wasn’t growing bored, hell, she was buzzing with excitement, and yet (y/n) seemed to know exactly which buttons she had to push. With the click of his tongue, Tyler pulled his hand from her aching heat, letting it come down on her ass without a warning moments later. (Y/n)’s surprised moan left him chuckling, fully aware of the power he held over her, no matter how much she tried to tease him, to drag this out even further.

“Are you sure you can take this, sweet girl? I won’t hold back.” She only moaned his name, hyper focused on all sounds she heard, how he undid his belt, how he seemed to rip open a condom before pushing her damp panties aside once again. And then he pushed into her, forcing her walls to flutter while desperately trying to adjust.

One of his hands settled on her waist while the other found her throat, pulling her off the hood just enough to let her eyes flicker up to the starry sky. Shaky breaths left (y/n) as she felt Tyler pull out of her, only to push back in seconds later, slowly fucking her while her gaze grew blurred.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven.” His praises made her walls clench his cock, drawing a raspy groan out of Tyler. With every passing moment, he added more speed to his thrusts, letting his body meet hers to remind them both that this wasn’t just a trick of their brains. They fit together perfectly, in every imaginable way, and even though he’d never say it to others, Tyler knew that he had just found his new favourite adrenaline high, fucking her was everything he had always been searching for.

“Don’t hold back, please.” (Y/n) was close to sobbing her words. She struggled to focus on the stars, struggled to focus on the sight that made her heart race from all this beauty she couldn’t take in, fully focused on Tyler and the way he fucked her hard. Their sounds bled together, forming a mass of sounds she’d never forget again, moans and groans, skin meeting skin, shaky breaths that told them both how much the other had also longed for this.

“Who knew it’d be this easy to make you beg for something.” She didn’t need to see him to know that Tyler was wearing a bright smirk, staring down at her while fucking her towards the edge.

“Who knew that you aren’t just a pretty face with a big ego.” Tyler’s raspy laugh vibrated through her body, pushing her even closer towards the high she could feel climbing up her body. His hand moved to the front of her wet panties, dipping inside to circle her pulsing bundle to give (y/n) the needed push to fall over the edge.

And then she came, with a moan so powerful she needed a moment to understand it was her who had made that sound. Tyler kept snapping his hips, with just enough speed to push himself closer and closer, high on the feeling of her walls squeezing his cock. (Y/n)’s sight cleared up just in time, allowing her to take in the beautiful spectacle on the sky as Tyler followed her down the edge, letting go with one last raspy moan.

He pressed a kiss to the spot where her neck met her shoulder before pulling out of her. (Y/n) kept her eyes focused on the sky as they redressed, not noticing how Tyler studied her with a smile. With his hand finding hers, he pulled her into his chest to dip his head down for another breathless kiss.

“I guess I was wrong.” She furrowed her eyebrows at Tyler’s words, letting her confused gaze wander over his face. “I always thought nothing would give me a high like a tornado can, but I was wrong. This, being here with you, hearing those sweet sounds you make, fuck, it’s my new favourite thing ever, pretty.”

#Tyler Owens smut #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens imagine #glen powell #twisters #glen powell smut

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erwinsvow · 5 months

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little sad bitchy!reader moment: her and rafe are at the country club with topper and kelce and some other friends of rafe and one of the guys starts saying how she would be a horrible wife and mother (bc of the way she is) and she honestly is so hurt by it and i think she would almost try to change the way she is around rafe a little just so he wouldn’t think that about her…

sobbing thinking about it and listening to this (https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLX2Pdcv/)

hi my love this was so amazing and wonderful to write! im sorry its kinda long, hope you like it ♡

in all honestly, you stopped caring what people said about you a long time ago. you weren't the way you were because it was funny, or to get a reaction out of others. that was just the way you've always been, and there was nothing you hated more than letting people walk all over you and get away it.

that must be why the comebacks would fly out of your mouth before you could stop them, if you even wanted to stop them. why you never stopped to think twice about the people who didn't want to talk to you again or the boys who didn't want a second date.

you weren't easy to handle, not that you wanted to be, but you knew you weren't.

it seemed easy enough for rafe though.

he never seemed to wish that you'd bite your tongue or tell you to act differently, behave a certain way. no, he'd laugh and fire back something, or agree with you and say something you remember to add to your collection of insults.

rafe liked you as you were. that's why he fought so long and hard to get you, something that you didn't take lightly. you were committed, and the more days that went by, you found yourself softening up more and more with him.

rafe knew a side of you that a select few had ever seen, much less engaged with. you liked it this way, having a boyfriend you could be yourself around and be a little soft around.

until you overhear a boy at the club talking about you. in all your years of life, you've never let a boy make you feel upset, and you didn't want to start now. a comeback brews the second he mentions your name—of course it's the idiot one, the one whose parents pay for his grades and doesn't know anything besides losing at pong and scaring away girls—but it dies in your throat when you hear the words that follow.

"i mean i get it, she's hot, but i don't know how cameron puts up with her."

"what're you talking about? she's just like him," kelce says, and you feel briefly grateful for him.

"dude, she's a bitch. i've never heard one nice thing come out of her mouth. totally untamed. you can't bring a girl like that home to your folks, they'd hate her. especially his folks. and don't even mention long-term. imagine coming home after working all day and your girl is bitching at you? i mean, no offense but what kind of kids is she gonna raise?"

you hear laughter, and when your face feels wet, and you're confused for a moment. you look up at the ceiling, wondering if there's a leak, when your eyes flood again and more tears fall down.

crying, and that too over what one of rafe's friends said about you. this isn't like you. frankly, it's pathetic. those idiotic boys don't know the first thing about you or your relationship with rafe—they don't know the conversations you have and all the things you both agree on and the way he laughs when you fire back at him.

but somehow, feet leading you outside and to your car, fingers texting rafe some excuse for why you went home early, you end up letting it affect you.

rafe comes over the next morning—he texted you something but you didn't reply. worried for a moment about something you've never been concerned with before, you think a nicer girl would have texted him back right away, that you should have texted him back.

he doesn't knock, never does. your parents aren't home but he has your spare key, letting himself in and up to your room. he stops at the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"hey. what happened last night?" he asks it like he doesn't know what happened—which is good, you want it to stay that way. the thing you would have said yesterday bubbles up, coming to your lips. maybe if you'd gotten your head out of your ass, you'd see my text.

"wasn't feeling good. came home."

"you feelin' okay now?" he gets closer to you, and you look up at your boyfriend. i'd be fine but that asshole you already hate ruined my mood. will you run him over in your truck?

"better." you stop for a moment, you don't want him to think something's wrong. "how was your night?" he looks at you a little confused.

"it was fine. borin' without you. kelce asked where you went too."

"y'know i always liked kelce," you say, smiling again. you think you can get better at this.

rafe takes you out for lunch, and then you wanted to go shopping in the afternoon and get your nails done. it's a whole day, and you like spending it with him. you swallow down what your mind usually thinks and opt for being nice instead, polite questions and trepid commentary.

the waiter brings you the wrong drink—and though you're not so much of a bitch to hurl insults at teenager servers, you're normally annoyed enough to say something and get your correct drink. instead you sip it quietly, waiting for rafe to start the conversation. when you don't, he looks at you in that confused way again.

"you okay?"

"yeah. fine. you okay?"

if he thinks something's wrong, he doesn't say anything. at the mall, nothing looks how you want and even the things you like don't feel right. you'd let rafe buy you whatever you want, normally giving him a twirl in the dressing room and thanking him very sweetly.

"you want that dress?" rafe asks, his arm resting on a rack while you comb through mindlessly.

"no, it was too short."

"that's never been an issue before." ha-ha. pervert. looking up my skirt aren't you? knew you were desperately horny for me but this is down bad even for you.

"trying to dress better. and it'll be cold soon."

"hey, look at me." rafe uses his hands on your shoulders to turn you from the clothes, facing him. "you okay baby?"

fuck, you know you messed up. he only calls you that when he's being serious—the rest of the time it's princess, angel, sweetheart. all things that you are definitely not.

"i'm okay. i just don't want it. but thank you." you don't know it, but he thinks you're upset with him, spending the next hour in the nail salon racking his mind for the reason why.

your nails are fine, they look pretty enough. shorter than normal with a clean french manicure, you admire them from a distance. you suddenly feel like crying again, wondering why you didn't get the pink acrylics you like, rhinestones and bows and all the other things that were pretty to look at when you flipped people off.

in rafe's passenger seat after, you keep staring at your hands, feeling another tear slip down. rafe's not looking at you, he's looking ahead, still unsure what was going on.

"baby, if i did something you gotta tell me, i don't like seein' you like this-" when he turns his head to glance at you, you're looking back at him with your pouty face and wet cheeks—two things he's never seen before. "hey. what's wrong?"

you couldn't stop the downpour if you tried—tears falling quick and fast. you hate that anyone's seeing you like this, especially rafe.

rafe is nice to you, and you soften up around him. you didn't really realize that he softens up around you too. he wipes your tears away, keeps a hand on yours the whole time.

"can you talk to me? what's goin' on?"

"yesterday.. one of those guys said that i was a bitch-"

"which one? to your face? when? i'll fuckin' kill him-"

"no, he didn't know i was there. it's not that, i know i am. i don't care about that. he said that-" your voice cracks, something else you hate, that you don't want rafe hearing. "sorry. he said you couldn't bring me home. and that you would hate coming home to me-me being all mean. and that our kids would be mean too."

yes, you're mean. but rafe's mean too, and none of your friends have ever said anything like that about him. you like that he's mean, that he's like you—you think he's the closest thing to a soulmate you could ever find.

"don't fuckin' listen to any of them for a second, got it? they don't know anything."

"rafe, i-"

"no, seriously. they yap because i wasn't there to knock him out. and he says it when you're gone 'cause he knows you'd make him cry if you were there." you sniffle, though you already feel better.

"but i didn't. i started crying instead." you hate even thinking about it.

"s'okay, it happens. but don't believe a word of that shit. i wanna come home to you everyday. hear everything you say. i want all of it."

"really?" you ask him, wiping away your tears, appreciating the hand on your thigh and how sincerely he's looking at you. "i thought you'd be mean if i cried in front of you."

"it's hard enough to be mean to you."

"you're such a sap. should we go get ice cream and braid each others hair after this?" he laughs, and you laugh. "thanks rafey."

"no problem, kid."

"don't call me that." rafe groans, and you smile.

#bitchy reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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grugruel · 7 months

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The Girl Who Cried Cowboy

Parings: dbf!cowboy!bucky x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: When drinking too much at one of her father's summer parties, she realises just how inappropriate her feelings are for her fathers best friend. And he has to drive her home.

Word count: 3.2

Warnings: cowboy hat, rough sex, pinv sex, kintchen-counter sex (woooh), doggy, creampie, praise, strong feelings, "I love you", mutual pining, tension, pet names (sweetheart, girl, ma'am, darlin', woman), slight angst, sundress kink, hair pulling.

Low chatter and calm music soothed her, tuning her mind to familiar nostalgia as she faded into memory of old summer nights.

Nights much like this one.

The singing birds, the perfectly temperatured air, and the warm kisses from the last rays of the setting sun.

Her parents' big grass-clad backyard in which she sometimes slept, like now, she enjoyed the infiltrating clovers that softened the ground beneath her.

And the blue open sky that stretched above her like a lustriously painted ceiling. It was deep at this hour, but not dark. Even so, it slowly lightened as it merged into the pastel colors of the horizon.

Her world whirled, stretching and contracting mildly as a slight buzz from her many emptied beers took a pleasant hold of her senses. She smiled, putting the half spilled bottle to her lips once again. Not minding one bit that she had toppled over, rather just loving the way the grass tickled her skin as her sheer sundress bunched high on her thighs. Especially enjoying the way it moved against her nipples, now very glad she'd opted out of wearing a bra today–

'You sure know how to catch my attention, sweetheart.' A voice mused.

She faced its source but already knew who it belonged to, its presence only making her night better. He'd always been her favorite out of her dad's friends.

The sun painted her face a golden orange, as she turned toward him. A tall, blurry figure stood by her side, she squinted, and a handsome cowboy materialised. The shapes forming him steadied. She could make out the gruff hands around his belt buckle, his face, and the cowboy hat on his head. Which was busy shielding his eyes from the sun, their intent gaze observing her from beneath its rim.

She smiled knowingly. 'Buck!' She erupted, throwing her arms upward as if to hug him from the ground, spilling beer all around her in the process. 'Join me.' She giggled, and her arms fell to pat the ground at her sides.

The cowboy shook his head with a chuckle. He had never been able to say no to her.

Her bare, bent knees lulled against his lap as she moved closer to his relaxed form. She took another swig of beer, then pointed at the sky above them.

Towering over their laying forms, the sky held a full moon in its mixing colors, the suns reflection only illuminating its silvery brightness and amplifying the contrasts.

'Ain't it pretty?'

His wandering eyes roamed her face, the alcohol fueled blush that adorned it, and the strands of wild hair that framed her like a canvas. He wanted noting more than to push them behind her ears so he could admire her in full. He willed his eyes from traveling south. He could not, it was unfair to her and her father.

He hummed. 'Sure is.'

She shut her eyes, attempting to collect herself. It must be the alcohol, surely. But she hadn't even had that much to drink, had she? She placed the hat on her head properly. Forgetting herself entierly.

She faced him again, meeting his eyes. He watched the blush expand across her face as she realised it was her that he was talking about. The girl, suddenly shy. Grabbed his hat from his head and covered her giggling face. His charm was dangerous, she couldnt help herself around him. Her face poked out from beneath the hat, eyes studying him carefully as he looked back up at the moon. The colors of the sky and the green of the grass running parallel to his profile. His forehead, nose, lips, and chin placed perfectly in between them, running like a mountain range in a horizon. She got a strong urge the kiss his perfectly handsome face– ugh, fuck. . .

'Buck?'

He hummed.

'Could you drive me home?' She just needed to sleep it off, these feeling would be gone in the morning. She was sure.

He looked back at her. '. . .'Course darlin.' His eyes wandered over his hat, on her head. His lips tightened into a line as he cleared his throat.

The girl nodded. 'Can you tell dad? I hate to leave the party early, but I think I over did the drinkin'. . .' She lied. She wasn't sick, nor drunk, drunk. She just felt too guilty to speak with her dad directly when these types of thoughts ran rampid about his best friend.

Her world devolved into streaks of color as he pulled her to her feet. The booze affected body betrayed her as the footing failed beneath her feet– she collided with his chest, and his quick hands shot to her waist– catching her before she took another tumble. 'Easy there.' His drawl in full effect.

He laughed, but nodded. 'He'll understand, im sure. Your father's a wise man.' And grabbed her shoulder, and squeezing it reassuringly. Then stood, and held his hand out for her to take.

Everything whirled around her, everything except him. She could see him perfectly clear. The pair locked eyes, enjoying the feeling of his big hands molding to her waist. Something tugged on them, pulling them closer to each other. Lips brushing, noses touching. She felt dizzy, the pair of them hiding their faces under the brim of his hat. It somehow felt easier. Hands slipping to her hips, squeezing. Their heavy breathing, drinking each other in, and the squeeking of the patio door– in horror they pulled off of each other, akwardness seeping into the space between them. She kept her eyes on the ground as she realised she was wearing his hat. She'd put it on, hadn't she? Oh. . . Fuck– but she had no time to worry about its insinuations right now, and quickly removed it, pushing it back into Bucky's hands.

'Ah, there you both are!' It was her dad, walking in a straight line toward them.

She prayed he hadn't seen anything. As everyone had moved the party inside when the night began to fall.

He slapped a hand on buckys shoulder, greeting him happily.

Thank god, she sighed in relief.

But there was an akward silence, where none of them said much of anything for a second.

'Whats goin' on, who died?' Her father joked, a dry chuckle following it. But a tinge of true uncertainty lingered in his voice as he looked at them with skeptical eyes.

'Im just not feelin' to good.' She scrambled to explain, as bucky scratched his neck, not managing to come up with a good excuse himself. 'I was thinkin' of headin' home. Buck'll drive me.'

Her father gave her a slanted smile and ruffled her hair. 'Yeah? To much to fast?'

She nodded, a faint smile on her lips. 'Sorry.'

He tilted his head, searching her eyes. 'Dont apologize sweetheart. Its ok. I'll see ya' later, yeah?'

She nodded again, and he kissed her on top of her head.

She loves her dad, and to prove it she'd almost kissed his best friend. Shame gnawed at her, she couldn't do that to him.

He turned to Bucky. 'You comin' back later then?'

'I'm not sure.' Bucky dared a flicker of a glance in her direction, and lowered his voice. 'Gotta get 'er home first, make sure shes alright.'

Her father nodded, seamingly appreciating the gesture. If he only knew.

'But you'll notice if I turn up.' Bucky laughed, attempting a joke to defuse the situation and playfully hit her father on the arm.

He smiled. 'Well, alright, good then. Drive safe.' The men gave each other a short embrace. 'Thank you, Buck. You're a good friend.' She heard her father whisper as they patted each other on the back warmly.

Guilt, shame, neither could begin to describe what she was feeling. She'd need to invent a new word for it.

The walk to the truck was quiet. The only proof of the life altering almost-kiss was the comforting hand he placed on her back, and now held much more meaning than that in which an old friend once had.

The sun disappeared beyond the distant treeline. A big wheatfield separated it from the dirtroad they found themselves driving down. Trees lined its path, their leafy crowns casting a high overhang above them.

Oh, how stunning, but the window would not wind down. Frustrated, she pushed it repeatedly. Her mind was not wrapping around the fact that it just wouldn't work, pure stubbornness egging her on. As she dared not ask Bucky for help. They'd been riding in silence ever since the encounter with her dad–

'You feelin' any better?' He asked, clearing his throat. The anxious avoidance of speaking had created a croak in it.

She had too much on her mind. She was overheating, just wanting some air. 'I'm fine, just a little warm.' The button was taunting her, no matter how hard she pushed it.

'Just– slow down, doll.' Bucky reached over her seat to unlock the door, then pushed the button to lower the window. Oh. . .

Sweet relief, she leaned her head against the frame of the open window. The freshness of nature and its many scents rolled into the truck in waves of pure air, clearing her mind of what it could. But as it mixed and matched with Buckys own, his perfume and masculine musk, rubbed her senses just right. It began working in the opposite effect.

'Thank you.' She spared him a glance, smiling faintly. Immidietly regretting it as she was reminded of how good he looked in the hat.

His hand fell from the door to her knee. It was supposed to be a harmless gesture, one he'd done may times before. 'You're welcome, sweetheart.'

Oh. . But this time, everything slowed, shes sure of it. Flames that should not have sparked inside her were now, in fact, raging. She screwed her eyes shut. Damp breeze, floweres, grass, birds. . . She tried to focus, to think of something else, but– hand, his hand. Moving in slow-motion, squeezing the flesh above her knee. Then, the loss of his touch.

Her eyes shot open, and suddenly, time hastened again– she grabbed his hand and without even thinking, replaced it higher on her thigh. Her eyes widened in realisation, and she felt the cowboys eyes bore into her. God, it's hard to breathe all of a sudden.

'Girl. . .' There laid warning in his tone. They were headed into dangerous territory. Yet without heeding his own warning, his fingers dug into her upper thigh, eyes landing on the pushed up skirt of her dress. He grabbed it between his fingertips and pulled it down, exhaling a big breath as if it took everything in him not to do the opposite.

She shook her head in compressed motions, the feeling of his skin was heavenly. His hand alone, without touching any crucial parts of her, set her aflame. Hesitation still lingering in her body as she fought her thoughts.

The car screeched to a halt, they'd arrived at her house. Fuck, thank, god.

She reached for the door, realising in horror that she still held onto his hand. As she made to shake herself free, he entwined his fingers with hers and sighed, knowing full well why she was in such a rush. 'Hold on now, darlin', slow down.' He met her eyes. 'Let me help you down, at least.'

Breathe, she willed herself, and nodded to him. Waiting impatiently for Bucky to open her door. Her world spinning, the real problem was that it simply wasn't alcohol induced anymore.

The door opened, and he gripped her waist, lifting her out in a swift motion. Her skin– well, everything tingled at his touch. He set her down, on steady feet, and unsteady mind. 'We should talk about this.' He tried, following her as she marched toward her door.

'About what? There's nothing to talk about.'

'Darlin'. . .'

'Stop.' She whipped around to face him. 'Just stop. I'm not your darlin', 'N I'm sure as hell not your sweetheart.' She hissed and continued walking. The words hurt her as much as they must've hurt him. God, the walk to her house felt never ending.

'I just– I care for you sweeth–' He stopped, footsteps no longer sounding behind her. '. . .'N I love your father too. I've known him for most of my life. Feeling this way 'bout ya' doesn't come for free.'

Too? He said "too" didn't he?

She turned around. 'Too?' Her knees felt weak, her mind muddled by conflicting thoughts of her father and the man in front of her. And he was quite a sight, the picture of a cowboy in fact. Putting weight on one leg, he held his belt, and his hat covered his face as he tilted it down in silent brooding. How she imagined all cowboys did.

He sighed. 'Well–' shoulders shrugging. 'What'ya expect, beautiful as you are. Inside 'n out.' He walked up to her. His hand reached for her face. She should back away. She knew she should, but her feet wouldn't move. The backs of his fingers stroked strands of hair from her face, thumb caressing her cheekbone, his touch gentler than any man before him.

He laid his forehead against hers. 'I love y–'

She kissed him. He could not utter those words. Not yet. This was not the time.

Electricity shocked her nervous system. She could feel his hunger as he cupped her face, deeping the kiss. Yet, his needy lips slowed themselves for her sake, her uncertainty.

She pulled free, gasping for breath as she had forgotten it was a necessity and grabbed his hand, leading him to the house. Eyes looking back at him, speaking more than words ever could. It was just the matter of interpreting them.

He stood leaning against her kitchen counter, observing her as she sauntered toward him. Dress billowing around her thighs. Was this really happening?

He reached for her, laying his hands at her waist and taking the fabric of her dress between his fingers, pulling her toward him. 'I really do, you know.'

Her hand reached up to comb through his hair. 'Save it.' She smiled, her other hand sliding over her dress, stopping at her waist where the bow that tied the dress together was. Slowly, as he kept his eyes locked on hers. She pulled on the string, letting it come undone, and her dress fell open.

Bucky made a sound between a gasp and a moan, barely daring to take his eyes from hers. 'I'm at your mercy, sweet girl. Tell me what to do.' He breathed, eager fingers waiting for her approval.

His words were setting butterflies to flight. Her free hand grabbed his, and led it between the fabric of her dress and her body. Laying it atop her breast. 'Touch me.' She whispered.

Shivers, shivers, and goosebumps spread in waves over her chest as his fingers came in contact with her soft flesh.

She advanced, and he obliged her request as his other hand ran down her side, snaking around her back and grabbing her ass to pull her closer against his chest.

'Please. . .' He pleaded. 'I need to feel you.' His hands squeezed her breast, producing a whimper from her lips. 'Taste you.' He leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers, lining her bottom lip with his tongue. 'Anything, anything you're willin' to give me.'

Her brows furrow in tortured pleasure. Waves of pressure inside her that had no outlet, nowhere to go except to her core and mind. Her thoughts were mere static at this point, all of them reduced to neurons.

'Take all of me. . . All at once.' She exhaled, the air that they exchanged with one another merged into one unisome breath.

A pained grunt. 'You sure?' He grabbed his hat to remove it.

She grabbed his hand, stopping. 'You better keep that hat on,' she warned, then nodded. 'And, im sure.' She looked into his eyes. 'Now. . . fuck. me.' She demanded.

With that, he grinned and spun her around, pressing her up against the counter. Hips colliding with the countertop in a hard thud, but she did not care. All she wanted was him, and for this short moment when they were together, truly together, her father could be damned.

His hands ran up the side of her thighs, hiking her skirt onto his wrist, and flipped it over her ass. She groaned in pain. 'Can't wait any longer, hurry up.'

'Easy girl. . ' He slowed her as he tugged her pretty lace panties to the side, moaning at the sight of her. 'Stunnin'. . '

Her mind fogged, she disappeared for a moment, not really thinking about what was happening until she heard his belt buckle and then, finally. She felt him.

His hand moved to her hip as the other aligned his tip with her entrance, and without any more thinking and delaying, he pushed inside.

A mix between a whimper and a moan pushed its way out of her lungs. 'Fuck, yes.'

Her hands braced against the countertop, protecting her hipbones against the hard surface as he began thrusting.

But it wasn't enough. 'C'mon cowboy, harder.' A moan and breath combined into one.

His hand slid up her back, unintentionally tickling her the entire way. He grabbed her hair and circled it around his fist, then held her steady as he pushed himself into her even rougher.

'Mmmh. .' She hummed. But she needed more. She'd waited so long for this that she'd be damned if there wouldn't be bruises to remember him by. 'You can do better. . Mhh- fuck.' She moaned, struggling to get her words out as he bent over her, his thrusts reaching even deeper. He leveled his head with hers, and bit into her shoulder. His blissfull muffled moans made right at her ear, and along with them came the hot puffs of breath and the dirty sounds of slapping skin. Everything scratched the nervous center in her brain, just right. 'Yeah. . . Like that, mhm. . Show me how much you, uh-huh. –need me.' She managed, her words stuttering and stumbling.

'Feels so good.' He groaned. 'My darlin' girl.'

She no longer protested. She was his, in every sense of the word. And she loved it

'Yours, just yours.' She breathed.

'Good girl.' He moaned, obviously approving of her recognition.

She could not take much more. '. . 'M close Buck.'

He nodded, his forehead resting against her shoulder. She could barely make out his nodding against her shoulder in response. He must be close, too.

'I need to see ya' girl– wanna see ya'. . . See ya' cum.'

She couldn't answer. She only moaned in approval. But it was enough for him. His swollen member had her walls clenching, sucking and squelching around his member. Pulling him closer and closer to the edge.

He pulled out of her, spun her around, and lifted her by the hips onto the counter. His strength would never, not turn her on. And without missing a beat, slammed back into her again. 'Fuck! Just like that cowboy.' She cried. Their lips meeting in needy, rushed movements as they both approached their climax. Knots tightening, pressure building, and pressure realising.

In blinding hot waves, pleasure coursed through her as her orgasm finally arrived. 'Oh, girl. .' he moaned, sounding close to a whimper as it was uttered against her lips and into her mouth. 'My good, good girl.'

Oh, she wanted to cry. She wanted to cry so badly. But Bucky got there first, as he too came. Tears of joy and pleasure fell down his cheeks as powerful spurts of seed filled her core, and he collapsed to his knees. Throwing his arms around her hips, his head lulled into her lap.

'I love you.' He murmured, kissing her thighs in slow, sloppy kisses. Lovingly holding his arms tightly around her, afraid she'd disappear. He uttered, 'I love you.' Over and over again, between and during his kisses, it did not matter to him. He just needed to say it, and for her to hear it.

She watched him with awe, how could she never have known, or felt– not even seen a glimpse of the man before her, a man that worshipped her in this way. She ran her hands through his hair, scratching his scalp and nape soothingly as she smiled. Heart filled to the brim, for him.

'I love you too, Buck.' She whispered. 'Love you terribly, I think have for a long time, cowboy.'

He looked up at her, his chin resting on her knees as she slumped back against the cabinets, both catching their breaths. 'You'll be the death of me, woman.' Another tear rolled down his cheek, but there was no sorrow. Only proof of powerful stimulation, along with long pent-up feelings and needs.

She jumped off of the counter. 'Need ya' once more, before you head back.'

He grabbed her wrist and kissed his way up her forearm from his place on the floor. 'Yes, ma'am.'

She laid an index finger under his chin, tilting his face upward so their eyes could meet. 'Good. . .' She lifted the hat from his head, and placed it on herself with a smile. '. . .'Cause I still gotta ride ya'.'

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky smut #bucky x femalre reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanficition #bucky imagine #cowboy!bucky #dbf!bucky #smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic

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navstuffs · 1 year

Text

DO IT FOR HIM

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Summary: Leon catches a particular item on your stuff.

Warnings: cute, two idiots in love, FLUFFY FLUFF, comedy, domestic!leon

Author's Notes: inspiration for this came from The Simpsons obvs and this amazing artwork from @emahriel. thank you so much giving me the honor to use it for my little fic! you should all check her blog, she has amazing artwork! i hope this fills your day with joy as much as i had fun writing it!

my leon's masterlist

"What is that?"

You and Leon have been cleaning your bedroom. The idea came from you: to let the energy flow around the house by donating and throwing away old items. Well, you were, at least. Leon is lying in bed, still wearing pajama pants and a shirt, although it is 4 pm. He deserves his rest, he says, and you agree. Because only Leon looks gorgeous in simple grey pants and a white shirt with a hole in the armpits. No complaints on your side.

"What is that?" Leon asks as you sit on the floor, surrounded by old stuff "That. Right there," Leon points, and your eyes follow. It is just your old collection of mangas.

"This?"

"No, behind it. That small little glass frame. What is on it?"

Small little glass…oh, crap. You immediately realize what it is, your stomach twisting. You thought you threw away that long ago before you and Leon moved together. It was a cute piece you made for yourself when you met him, feeling like a teenager in love again. It was never in your plans for Leon to see it.

"No-nothing. It's probably an old art project of mine," You try to place the frame with its face down, thinking of a way to get rid of it, before Leon, faster than you, is at your side, pulling from your hands. "Wait, Leon!"

When Leon turns the frame around, he paralyzes. It is his face. There are numerous pictures of him smiling, looking seriously at the camera, and even admiring the background scenery. There were a few of his younger self as well. And behind it, written in your handwriting in big black bold letters, DO IT FOR HIM. Leon looks at you, a smile appearing on his face, and he feels his cheek heat up.

You don't see that, your face hidden behind your hands. It was just a silly thing you did to help you during work. You placed it on your table to remind yourself to stay strong, even when things got hard.

You peek between your fingers to see Leon isn't in there anymore. Well, there you cringed the man of your life, and he probably regretted marrying you. Or, knowing Leon, he left to give a good laugh without embarrassing you.

Leon comes back, his wallet in his hands. You wait until he sits by your side and hands you the wallet.

"Open it."

You do as you are told, feeling Leon's gentle stare. You hadn't seen anything special in his wallet before besides cards and ID. You look up, and he motions for you to open his wallet. You do it, finding a small folded piece of paper.

"What is this?" You ask, cautious.

"Unfold it."

You wrinkle your forehead, opening the paper and looking at him surprised. It is one of the first pictures you took together after Raccoon City, and you just started dating. Although it was supposed to be a selfie together, Leon accidentally cut himself almost entirely out of the picture, focusing on you and your big happy smile. The paper seemed to have been folded and unfolded plenty of times. When you look at Leon, his face visibly red now, he confesses, his voice low.

"Helped a lot in dark times, believe me."

"Why this one specifically?"

"It was the first time you told me you loved me. I like to remember that."

Without being able to control yourself anymore, sniffling, you throw yourself in Leon's arms, hiding your face on his neck.

"Are you crying?" Leon wonders with a smile. When you don't answer, he rubs your back, whispering in your ear, "I still love you as much as that day."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfics #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy imagine #is this my apology for writing emptiness? no not really lol

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crguang · 4 months

Text

wasted with longing

You and Kafka have a simple, superficial relationship that benefits you both. You should have known that nothing is ever simple when she’s involved.

friends with benefits, smut, afab!reader, gp!kafka, vaginal penetration, blowjob, dom!kafka, 4.5k words

A/N: fuckboy kafka is real and we should all be running… towards her🤣 this will be a series! i’ll fine tune it when i wake up but this is for my very excited anons and mutuals <3

part two

this is the collective playlist, i’m still adding songs as i go: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4fNHJsbeJLC49Fa8ACVOwW?si=pgaCSUzVTgmXZ8OuQJWLKA&pi=u-9uwba0QiQlWH

You push open the door to your apartment with a tired sigh and step inside. Freeing your feet from the new boots you bought days before feels heavenly, you’re still breaking them in and the process is almost torturous, often leaving you sore by the evening. You put on the slippers you discarded that morning as you shrug off your jacket, placing it back into the tiny closet near the front door. The lights are off but you don’t bother turning them on, instead, you make a beeline for your bedroom and flick that switch on. It’s late, around 11 PM, and you’re itching for a shower before collapsing into bed after spending the afternoon on your feet. You open the window a crack to let the breeze in, seeing as the summer nights tend to leave you sweating. You discard some of your clothing on the way to the bathroom, holding onto them to throw them in the laundry basket next to the sink. Standing in your underwear, you turn on the shower and adjust its settings to room temperature before removing your clothes. You’re grateful for the peaceful moment when you step into the shower, simply letting the water hit your face and soak your body.

Today was particularly challenging; your boss was a jerk your whole shift, more demanding than usual, and you’d promised some friends that you would go out with them after work even though you just wanted to be home by then. Forcing yourself to socialize is mentally taxing and often leaves you with a headache at the end of the night, too. Under the refreshing water, you feel the knots of your muscles loosen slowly as if smoothed out by warm, gentle hands. Your head tilts towards the shower head. For a few minutes, you wash away the weight of the day, focusing on the pitter-patter in your ears deafening you to all but your thoughts. An impulsive one passes by, meant to be fleeting but it solidifies in your head until you can’t help but entertain the idea.

You wonder what Kafka is doing, if she’d come running if you called the way she often does once the sun sets. She’s been busy lately, you think; you haven’t heard from her in around two weeks and you’ve been too preoccupied with work to bother checking on her. You don’t know what she does for a living, only that your palms brush against new cuts across her skin every once in a while. The acknowledgment of their presence goes unsaid like many other things, locked in a messy closet to which you both hold the key yet refuse to organize. Still, she’s skilled in the ways of your body and works you out like no one else can, so you ignore a lot about her to prioritize how relaxed you feel after a couple of hours with her. Some parts of you, your heart and fingertips, twitch to understand her absences and inconsistencies. You try not to dwell on that confusing desire for too long lest you come to a conclusion you don’t like. Kafka’s enigmatic, she’s mysterious and rehearsed as to always keep the upper hand in whatever war she’s implicated in like the world is an open minefield and she can’t afford a single misstep. Every semblance of genuine conversation about her turns into a game she has to win and you’re getting tired of playing along. However… you have to admit that you could use the distraction tonight.

The thought doesn’t leave you as you finish washing yourself and step out of the shower with a clean towel around your frame. You look for your phone once in the bedroom, picking it up from where it was discarded on your dresser, then sit at the edge of your bed. It takes a bit of scrolling through your recent conversations to find Kafka’s contact. You refrain yourself from rolling your eyes at the last texts you’ve exchanged. She can’t be relied on for your impromptu needs and you wish the opposite was true as well, but you’ve learned to make yourself available whenever she seeks you out. It’s pathetic, you tell yourself, even as your thumbs hover over the screen’s keyboard. You recline on the mattress with a sigh and hold your phone above you, wondering if you should do this. It’s late, and though that’s usually when you see each other, Kafka has the habit of not replying until hours later. It’s irritating, especially when you scroll up to her last messages and notice how quickly you always answer them. You toss your phone on the bed and cover your face with your hands. You swallow a scream.

“Embarrassing, embarrassing,” you mutter to yourself, “no dignity at all.”

As you question your life choices and consider blocking Kafka’s number to make yourself feel more in control than you are, your phone buzzes with a notification. You turn on your stomach to pick it up, tapping open the screen.

You stare at the most recent text for almost a full minute before closing the device and sitting up straight. The coincidence of her messaging you while you’re debating whether you should text her first leaves you reeling for a moment. You hesitate, fiddling with the phone in your hands. You want to leave her waiting like she often does to you, but… Excitement creeps up your spine at the thought of seeing her. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Why not take what you need from her and send her on her way? This is what she’s good for, it’s how she regards you as well, so you give in to your impulses and craft the perfect text. Kafka’s reply comes almost instantly.

You can’t deny the flutter in your gut but you sure as hell can ignore it.

You make sure to be ready before Kafka comes knocking at your door. You lather yourself with your favourite lotion before pulling a tank top over your head and putting on pyjama shorts. You clean up around your apartment even if she never lingers long enough to get a good look at it, picking up dirty laundry and clearing the dishes. You don’t see the minutes tick by as you do your best to seem presentable. You check your teeth in the bathroom mirror, decide to brush them because you don’t have any mint, then tap your cheeks a couple of times, tilting your chin this way and that. You’re looking at your nails, wondering if you should clip them since they’re getting a bit long, when the doorbell rings.

You take measured steps towards the front door so as not to look too eager and shake your head at your antics. You turn the handle, revealing Kafka’s nonchalant expression on the other side of the door. She smiles at the sight of you, clad in her usual tight clothes and custom-made coat, and you have to suppress one from betraying your thoughts as you take her in. She does the same to you, gaze appreciatively raking over your figure before she even greets you. She still has makeup on, hiding the fatigue you know rests under her eyes, and she’s holding on to her pair of gloves instead of wearing them. You think she probably wrapped up whatever it is that she does and came to your apartment right afterwards.

You open the door wider and step to the side so she can come in. “You look tired.”

Kafka walks in and closes the door behind her with a foot. Her smile widens a touch, a self-assured edge to it. Her head tilts— you watch the loose strands of hair follow the movement— and her eyes drop to your chest for a deliberate second then lift to meet yours. “You look beautiful as ever.”

You don’t hide the annoyed roll of your eyes. You turn your back on her to lead her further into the apartment. She follows, slipping off her coat from her shoulders and discarding it on a sofa in the living room.

“You got rid of the painting?”

You look at where she stopped in front of the couch. She points to the far wall with her chin as she lays her gloves on top of her coat. You stand, dumbfounded. You used to have an abstract painting hung on that wall but stored it to install a TV instead. You’re mostly surprised she noticed; her lips are usually on yours instants after she’s stepped through the door.

“It’s here somewhere,” you gesture vaguely to the room.

“Mm… This coffee table’s different, too.”

“You broke the glass of the other one the last time you were here.”

Something in the way she glances at you, a cocky glint in her eyes, tells you she remembers.

“Right. What was it you said that night— ‘Don’t you dare stop?’”

You know Kafka revels in the flash of irritation that creases the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t remember that.”

“No?”

She makes her way to you, fingertips trailing on the back of the couch and amusement shining through her contacts, dusty pink swallowing the lilac at their edges, reminding you of carefully plucked calla lilies. Her slender fingers cup your jaw to tilt your chin, the nail of her index sliding across your skin, and you meet her stare with practiced ease. You hate how easily the anticipation of her touch heats the embers in your belly and you can’t stand knowing that she’s aware of her effect on you. Kafka brings you closer until all you care to see is the lustful, rosy shades of her irises. Her gaze lowers to the curves of your mouth.

“Need a reminder?” Her murmur is felt on your lips like the warm, inviting breeze wafting through the open windows.

You hook a finger under the waistband of her shorts and tug her forward. “Guess so.”

Her low chuckle is cut off by the kiss you plant on her lips. Kafka indulges your control over her, lets you back her up against the wall and pull her close with a hand around her neck. Her arm snakes around your waist, your body pressed to hers. She tastes sweet, like a sugary drink or a juicy fruit, and your tongue slips into her mouth to taste her fully. She welcomes it readily and allows it to swirl around hers before you feel her fingers curl around your throat. The pace shifts, hungry and hurried, as she effortlessly takes over the kiss, momentarily taking your breath away. You’re forced to follow her lead and exhale through your nose when she doesn’t release you. The hand on the back of her neck travels down her collarbone, pulling on the leather strap of her outfit so it slaps against her once you let go, and the hum that sounds from her throat softens your bones until you’re putty in her hands. Her shirt crumples in your grip while your fingertips tease the buttons of her shorts. Your world is reduced to the soft caress of her tongue in your mouth and the growing bulge beneath your palm.

Her hold on your neck relaxes slightly and you pull away enough to regulate your breathing. You stroke her over her clothes, drawing a sharp intake of breath from her. A pleased smile makes its way onto your face and your eyes blink open to stare at her swollen, peach lips.

“Someone’s happy to see me.”

Kafka traces the hollow of your throat with a rounded nail, smiling amusedly at your teasing tone. “Mmm.”

“Two weeks and a little kiss gets you worked up?”

“Were you counting?”

“Please. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” You unclasp the buttons of her shorts and pull them down her waist to reveal the band of her pantyhose, toying with it and sighing in faux exasperation. “I suppose I could help.”

“Yeah?”

Kafka stares at you, anticipation in the way her lips unconsciously part, and you retain her lustful gaze as you withdraw from her body to put your hair up using the hair tie on your wrist. You raise a playful eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, and her eyes narrow a touch at your cockiness. She doesn’t say a word, though, simply watches you lower yourself to your knees with that smile that says she’ll wipe that expression off your face soon enough. You start with her thigh-high boot, zipping it down to get it out of the way, then grip the edges of both her pantyhose and shorts to slide them off the rest of the way at once. Her layers annoy you on nights when your need is greater than your patience, but you enjoy teasing her like this; testing the elasticity of her boxers’ waistband, running the pads of your fingers over the thin fabric and along the thick of her bulge, pressing leisure, open-mouthed kisses on the soft flesh of her inner thighs. Kafka is a patient woman, her hand tangles in your hair but doesn’t pull. Her heavy stare makes you feel powerful despite being the one on your knees, she either doesn’t bother to hide her desire or she can’t— regardless, you’re her only way towards sweet release and she has no choice but to grant your petty wishes.

Your lips trace the outline of her length over her underwear. One hand cups her between her legs while the other kneads her plush thigh. You delight in the little hums Kafka doesn’t care to contain as you pepper kisses on her clothed cock, a thumb gently massaging her balls until you feel her twitch under your lips. Still, she doesn’t tell you to hurry along or pressure you in any way. Knowing that her cool demeanor is an act fuels the satisfaction in your gut. You pull at her boxers and free her hard cock, refraining from biting your lip at the sight of its prominent vein. You follow its pattern with your mouth and use a hand to curl around her base, eyes fluttering shut. You’ve done this so often, licked long stripes up to her tip and stroked her sensitive skin with teasing touches, that the feel of her against you is engraved in your gray matter. Your tongue swirls around her leaking tip to collect her pre-cum before taking her into your mouth. Kafka is so big you have to use your fingers to stroke what can’t fit past your lips. The weight of her cock on your tongue makes you so incredibly wet, you feel arousal trickling down your inner thigh. Her hips buck forward and her hand caresses your hair in a manner so fond you’d mistake her lust for care if you didn’t know any better. You work her up with quiet, muffled moans around her dick and she guides you down her length with one hand, unable to tear her eyes from your pretty face as you suck her off. You take as much of her as you can, feel the head brushing the back of your throat every few thrusts of her hips, and revel in the short, throaty moans spilling from Kafka’s lips.

“Mmhh… How pretty you look with your mouth full,” she manages to tease you in between low gasps, smugness dripping from her words. You give her sensitive tip a particularly harsh suck and bask in the uncontrolled jerk of her hips.

You look up at the crease between her brows and the rapid rise of her chest, her audible pants intoxicating you. With her head tilted to gaze down at you, strands of magenta hang in the air like threads of silk. You squeeze her base once to draw a longer moan from her. The taste of her bypasses your every thought, and you can only focus on her throbbing, wet cock filling your mouth. You stroke her with the same hungry pace, occasionally squeezing your thighs together to appease the heat between your legs. She’s so hard, so needy, you can’t help the indignant whine that escapes you when her fingers grip your hair and pull you away from her dick. A thin string of saliva connects her head to your tongue and breaks with the distance, falling onto your chin.

“Don’t pout, you’ll get your fill,” Kafka smiles despite her heavy breathing, urging you to stand with her hold on your head, “I’ll make sure of it.”

A tinge of irritation surges in your bloodstream at the cocky edge of her tone and the way your pussy aches for her touch. Her nose brushes yours once you’re on your feet, warm breath fanning over your lips. You hate that you want her, that your body responds to her by melting into hers as she steals the air in your lungs with a single heady kiss. You hate the way your thighs part almost immediately to allow her wandering hand better access to your cunt. You hate the amused chuckle that leaves her when she realizes you’re not wearing any underwear and rubs between your slit with a finger. And yet, you only get wetter under her ministrations, brows twisting with the pleasure she’s giving you. Her digit withdraws from your slick pussy, glimmering with your arousal, and Kafka stares at you with lidded eyes as she brings it to her lips to suck it clean. The wet sound of her mouth sends a jolt straight to your core. You need her to fuck you so badly, you can barely think before grasping the leather strap under her collarbones to pull her forward.

Your lips meet in a messy, heated kiss, her salty taste on your tongue and your slick on hers. You stumble down the hallway, losing pieces of clothing along the way, until you reach the bedroom and Kafka firmly pushes you down onto the bed with a hand on your bare chest. Her mouth is locked with yours and you feel her touch on your hips, across your waist, over your ribcage where your heart drums for her. Her thumb applies pressure on your erect nipple, drawing a needy sigh from you. You sneak around her chest to unclasp her bra and she assists you in sliding it off her arms to discard it on the floor. Her cock presses against your thigh while she teases your nipple between two fingers. You know you’re ruining the sheets beneath you but you can’t bring yourself to care; you get more desperate with every minute she’s not buried inside you, unable to contain the quiet whimpers that escape you.

“Kafka…” you breathe out in a whine, aware of how much it turns her on to hear her name out your lips. Her cock throbs on your thigh at the sound.

She plants kisses down your jaw and pinches your nipple a couple of times, the feeling delicious yet not enough. Her hum rumbles through her chest, “Mmm… Pleading already?”

Aeons, she’s infuriating. You wrap a leg around her waist and her length rests on your slit, but you bite the flesh of your cheek to keep in a breathy moan, not wanting to inflate her ego more than it already is. Kafka reaches down to rub her tip between your lower lips, almost groaning as your slick mixes with the saliva from your tongue. Your lungs stutter and you suck in a breath, nails digging into the expanse of her back. Her head grazes your aching clit, you arch further into her to repeat the action. It feels so good you forget all about who you’re dealing with until she speaks up again.

Kafka’s licks a broad stripe up your neck, then her mouth brushes the skin of your jaw on its way to your earlobe, pressing a kiss just below.

“You’re dripping…” Though her voice is close to your eardrums, you barely register the words she utters, lost in the pleasure of your clit sliding against the thick of her cock. “How much do you want this, mm?”

There’s a lick on the cartilage of your ear before she pulls away to look at you through the dull pink of her irises, eyelids heavy. The movement of her dick on your pussy comes to halt and it takes you losing that relieving friction to understand that she expects an answer.

“W-What?”

“Did you miss me this much?”

Your heel digs into her lower back to pull her closer, but her lips simply stretch into a knowing, teasing smile. She presses her tip against your twitching clit once, delighting in the flutter of her eyelashes and the beginnings of a needy moan that you refuse to let her hear.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you reply, but even you have to admit that your sentence lacks conviction or venom.

“Mm…” Kafka guides the tip of her cock to your gushing entrance and your next inhale gets caught in your throat. “Is it flattery if it’s true?”

“You w— Hah—!”

She pushes the head inside you, feeling you clench instinctively at the intrusion, and lets out a sigh of pleasure as your warm, tight cunt welcomes her cock. She watches a quiver go through your bottom lip and briefly bites her own. One hand digs into the plush of your love handle, the other sinks into the bedsheets next to your head. She slides another inch into you and your fingers tangle in her locks, tugging at the sensation of her length inside you, stretching you so well a breathless gasp spills from your mouth. Her smile is smug, pleased at your silence, and you swallow as you muster the strength to speak. Kafka leans closer, the tip of her nose against your cheek and her breath warming your skin. Slowly, she bottoms out completely and gives you a moment to adjust to the fullness. Something in the way her pants falter occasionally tells you that she needs that pause too. Her lips are on your jaw in a kiss way too soft, too gentle to be from her; her who means nothing to you aside from the pleasure she provides you.

“I missed you.”

You feel a buzzing sensation in your lower belly that has nothing to do with her cock nestled in your cunt. The words are murmured like a confession but you know they aren’t one, Kafka means to provoke you so that she can put you in your place, a game you’ve played since the day you met. You can’t explain why it’s as if your heartstrings are plucked and manipulated like those of an instrument, its melody disorganized and disharmonious. You don’t understand the sudden irritation that mixes with your arousal, sending a shiver down your spine.

You tug at her hair and her head follows the movement backwards, lips parting.

“I hate you,” you manage to utter through gritted teeth, and you’re frustrated to find that there’s no truth in what you’ve said.

Kafka’s growing grin turns mocking. “Aww. But you’re sucking me in…”

To prove her point, she withdraws from you just to thrust back in, her tip hitting that sensitive spot inside you. Her length rubs your walls with every thrust of her hips, rendering you speechless aside from the quiet whimpers that fall from your tongue, and your anger fades away, replaced by the desperate need to come. Your fingers messily swipe at your clit and your nails paint crescent moons on her back from how tightly you’re holding on to her body. Despite her own need, Kafka is determined to pull more lovely sounds from you. Her pace is tantalizingly slow but harsh in the way you prefer as she fills you to the brim. You feel her all around you, her lips on your jaw, the pads of her fingers sinking into your flesh, her cock buried deep inside your fluttering cunt. Her low moans and short groans hit your ears in sinful sounds that only make you wetter. Her breasts are flushed to yours, following the rocking of her hips.

“Fuck, fuck—“ you babble breathily, lost in the pleasure, “more…”

You don’t register Kafka manhandling you with an arm around your waist so that you’re straddling her lap instead, only that the change in position allows her to drive deeper into you. You moan brokenly as she grabs your hips and guides you down onto her cock in one go. Your thighs tremble, aching, and your orgasm is imminent. Kafka groans into your shoulder, bouncing you on her dick, the taut coil in her belly begging to snap. Your slick trickles down her length and your wet pussy swallows her cock, you clench around her like you dread she’ll pull out before you can come. She uses a palm to apply pressure on your lower stomach, feeling the faint outline of her bulge inside you, and the sensation pushes you over the edge. You cream on her cock with a cry. Your head tilts back and Kafka leans away from your shoulder to gaze at your cum drenching her girth. She knows how sensitive you get after an orgasm, can feel you twitch against her with the aftershocks, but she can’t help jerking her hips upwards to fuck your cum back into your pussy. She wants to see her own cum merge with yours until you’re so full of her that you’re gushing.

“Kafka—!” You gasp out, fingers gripping her loose ponytail, “W-Wait…”

She shushes you with an insistent kiss. She’s close, guiding your hips up and down her throbbing cock. With a particularly harsh thrust, that familiar coil in her stomach finally breaks and her cum spills into you in hot, intense spurts against your inner walls. It’s too much for you to handle even as her thrusts stutter, yet a second orgasm builds inside you, quick and desperate; your body moves on its own accord, further stimulating you and drawing a long, drawn out moan out of you. Kafka’s lips are parted and you miss the sheen in her eyes as she stares up at you unashamedly riding her until you come around her dick a second time.

You’re both coming down from your high some time later, your eyes are shut and the pace of your rising chest slows down enough for you to take deep breaths. Kafka is a comforting presence beside you on the bed, and like you do with many things, you ignore the warmth that is born from your chest and spreads across your torso. A welcomed kind of exhaustion creeps up on you, almost pulling you into a dream, but you hear Kafka move next to you so you turn your head to look at her. She’s fixing her hair, putting back locks of magenta into her ponytail. She feels your gaze on her and meets your eyes with a small smile. There’s that twitch of your heart and fingertips again at the sight of the soft glow of her sweaty skin under your bedroom lights.

“You look exhausted,” her tone lacks its usual teasing edge but you’re too tired to notice, “I’ll use the shower and lock behind me with the spare key. You should sleep. I’ll message you tomorrow.”

You don’t say anything to that. You stare at the ceiling as the shower is turned on in the background.

Kafka doesn’t text the next day.

#honkai star rail #hsr kafka #hsr #hsr x reader #kafka x reader #kafka x you #hsr x you #hsr smut #kafka smut #dom!kafka

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vivwritesfics · 4 months

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PLEASE can we get more HOAF ?? Maybe their wedding with absolutely adorable Milo and Olivia OR their wedding night 👀👀👀 ~nurse-sainz

as two of you know, I've been seriously thinking about the hoaf second series. It has a title, but, because I don't want to start ANOTHER series until I finish a current one, it's something I'm going to be working on behind the scenes

1.7K

Warnings: Pregnancy, pregnancy hormones

Series Masterlist

Feel free to buy me a coffee ☕☕

She'd never expected to be pregnant on her wedding day. It was nobody's dream, to be round and swollen while stuffed into a pretty white dress that you just know would look so much better if you weren't pregnant, on your feet all day, unable to partake in any of the drinking.

Her bachelorette party wasn't all that. But she didn't want it to be. The only people she would have invited were the other wags, girls she didn't know all that well. No, her bachelorette party was her and Olivia getting their hair and nails done.

They ended the day getting dinner, just the two of them. They sat there, sharing a too big pizza while Olivia went over her details plans of the wedding.

It was the best bachelorette party ever.

Daniel had two bachelor parties. One that was organised by Max and Lando to be the wildest night of his life, with almost all of the grid accompanying them. And one where he could invite Milo.

The party with Milo was mini golf. Carlos was happy to carry Milo around on his shoulders, teach him all that he knew. The boys had all agreed to let Milo win, but he didn't have to know that. After the golf they had dinner and drinks.

One thing about Milo was he couldn't keep his mouth shut about the baby. Maybe Daniel should have reminded him that Baby Ricciardo was a secret, but he didn't expect Milo to just blurt it out, either.

But none of the drivers were surprised. They couldn't be surprised about baby Ricciardo, not when the couple hadn't exactly been good at hiding it. Daniel's hand on her stomach, the little list of baby names they'd all seen on his phone.

The party without Milo, when Milo was at home with Olivia and his momma, it really was a party. Loud music, drinks, dancing, it had everything. But, the moment Daniel got more than three drinks in his system, he was talking about her.

Arm over Max's shoulder as he slurred out his name and how much he loved her. "I want to have another girl," he said to Max, but it was barely audible. "A little girl that looks just like her."

When she had her first dress fitting, there wasn't a bump. Or, at least, the bump did little to change her frame. Her dream dress fit like a glove and Daniel's mother was crying.

It was naïve to think that the dress would still fit by the time the wedding rolled around. Her bump had gotten exponentially bigger, to the point where she couldn't hit it anymore. Now that the drivers knew, it was only time that the rest of the world knew.

They didn't announce it in any way. No, Daniel's Instagram usually had a picture of her in his photo dumps and this was no exception. Just, this time, her bump was visible in the picture.

If the world of F1 was losing its collective shit, neither of them noticed. The Ricciardo family was wrapped up in their own little bubble, just the way they liked it.

A week before the wedding, her dream dress wasn't fitting. Why the fuck wasn't it fitting? Well, she knew why. It was stupid to think anything would fit over her bump.

"I hate this baby," she said through tears as she rubbed her bump. No, she didn't hate baby Ricciardo, not in the slightest. Actually, she loved baby Ricciardo more than anything. But still, she couldn't help but wish she wasn't pregnant.

The dress she wore on her wedding day wasn't her dream dress. She couldn't wear those cute white heels she wanted to wear, couldn't even see her feet.

As she stared at herself in the mirror, just an hour away from being walked down the aisle, an hour away from marrying the love of her life, she was ready to cry. She held it back, though, couldn't afford to ruin her makeup. "What're we gonna do with you?" She whispered as she cradled her bump.

"Momma?"

She looked at Milo in the mirror before she turned towards him. "C'mere, baby," she said and held her hands out towards him. Fuck, how was he almost seven?

As her son wrapped his arms around her, she wanted time to stop. Just stop, let her live in this moment forever. He was growing up so damn fast, he was going to be a big brother soon. "You look beautiful, momma," he said.

This time, she couldn't help the tears. Stupid pregnancy hormones. "Thank you, Miley," she said through a shaky breath as she stood up and grabbed a tissue. Gently she dabbed at her eyes, trying to save her makeup.

She smoothed her dress over her bump and took Milo's hand. "Let's go become Ricciardos."

Daniel had never been this nervous before. Not in his first race back after McLaren had let him go. He was sweating in his suit as Max stood with him. All of their guests were seated, but the most important people were missing.

The door opened and Olivia and one of her friends, one that had been over a few times, walked in. They tossed the petals out of the little white basket as she walked in behind her.

Daniel knew her relationship with her family was... strenuous, at best. That was why they weren't at the wedding. With her father not there to walk her down the aisle, Milo held her hand.

Daniel's breath caught in his throat. He knew she wasn't in her dream dress, not the dress that matched Olivia's, but she still looked amazing. Holy fuck, it was enough to bring tears to her eyes. But that wasn't what actually did it.

Milo was the one walking her down the aisle. Milo in his little suit that near matched Daniels. He stood tall and proud, head held high as he walked his mother towards his step father.

The kids sat together through the ceremony. Milo couldn’t stop himself from fiddling with the little pieces of petals as his mother got married. They were incredibly well behaved throughout, with Olivia’s grandparents, and Milo’s grandparents now, too, keeping them company.

This close, Daniel could see the faults in her makeup. He didn’t care about the faults, she looked gorgeous with or without it. But still, Daniel could see the smudges under her eyes as he slipped the ring onto her finger.

Mrs Ricciardo. She was Mrs Ricciardo now.

Daniel didn’t say anything about the evidence of her tears as he kissed her. And, once he had his mouth on her, he never wanted to stop kissing her. He couldn’t dip her, like he wanted to, but his hand cradled her bump, cradled baby Ricciardo. His baby. She was his wife and she was carrying his baby.

This was the best day of his life.

Their family and friends were cheering as he walked her out of the church and into the car. Even then, even in the car, he couldn’t keep his lips on her. But he had to make sure she was okay, that took precedent. Even knowing that, Daniel couldn’t pull his lips away from her own. So the words were mumbled against her lips. “Were you crying?”

He tried to sound concerned, by her lips against his had his voice coming out as more of a desperate whine.

But, as soon as he said it, she pulled away. “I’m fine, Danny,” she said and went to rub at her eyes, rub away the evidence of her tears.

Daniel caught her wrists. “You look beautiful,” he whispered and kissed her again. “My wife looks beautiful.”

The way she looked up at him, fuck, he could have kept her in that car forever. “Say it again.”

“My wife.”

When they arrived at the reception venue, their friends and family were there, waiting. As soon as they climbed out of the car, Milo and Olivia were pulling away from their grandparents, racing towards them. Daniel couldn’t help but pick Olivia up and place her on his hip as Milo held his mothers leg.

“Are we a family now?” Olivia asked, her voice coming out almost like a demand.

But nobody could blame her. She’d been waiting for this moment for a year and a half.

Daniel rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. “We always were a family, Badger.”

There was no part of her wedding that the new Mrs Ricciardo didn’t enjoy. She wasn’t in her dream dress, but, now she had that ring on her finger, now she was married to the love of her life, she didn’t much care.

She danced, but she didn’t dance the night away, like she had dreamed. She couldn’t help but be emotional as she sat with Daniel’s parents, her mother and father in law, watching the guests at her wedding. They were dancing more than she was, at her own wedding.

Holding her bump, speaking softly to baby Ricciardo, she watched as her husband and her children danced. Daniel’s grin was so wide as the three of them were the centre of attention on the dance floor. That was the man she loved. That was the man she married.

“Your daddy, your siblings and I can’t wait to meet you,” she whispered to baby Ricciardo as her mother and father in law watched on, hearts melting. “You’ve got the best daddy going.”

And, as Daniel put Olivia down after spinning her around, he looked over to his wife. She smiled at him, a smile he’d never forget. As Olivia went to dance with Lando and Max took Milo to get something to drink, Daniel walked over to her.

“Hi, baby,” he said as his hand met her bump. And then he looked up at his wife, meeting her eyes. “Hi, Mrs Ricciardo.”

“Hi, Mr Ricciardo.”

He kissed her, and she never wanted to let him go.

If you enjoyed this, please feel free to buy me a coffee

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool

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#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #dr3 #dr3 imagine #dr3 x reader

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mugman64 · 1 year

Text

So I’ve been thinking recently, and there is no way Percy Jackson doesn’t use the gods to just cheat his way in life. Specifically I’m thinking like Percy Jackson sitting in his new car calling Zeus all the swear words under the sun, bailing out last second, and then going to collect the insurance money on his lightning struck car. Like what is the insurance agency gonna do? Claim that he summoned lightning to total a new car and get an insurance payout worth twice its value?

Hermes just gets a box from Percy with 5 Drachmas and two rats and the address of a house and silently turns the Caduceus into laser mode and takes aim.

Annabeth is PISSED when she finds out, like violently upset because WHY DIDN’T SHE THINK OF THIS FIRST!!!!! So she immediately demands Percy cause a small hurricane to take out the architecture firm she started because it’s a shithole with a big insurance policy.

Will has a whole argument with Nico because “Yes I did complain about our car not starting, but when you said you’ll take care of it I expected it to go to the mechanic not INTO A FUCKING SINKHOLE!!!!!”

The whole thing just snowballs until the Big Three kids are making random visits to parents of demigods to make their lives easier by destroying their shit with natural disasters. Eventually the gods get wind of it and almost every kid coming into camp already knows who their parent is because of the “accidents” that happen.

One daughter of Athena is entirely unsurprised because “A crate full of text books dropping from a plane onto our house is pretty heavy handed, huh Mom”

After enough pestering and a stoned promise Percy, Thalia, Grover, Rachel, and Annabeth all set up a Leverage style scam where they cause accidents to happen so corrupt millionaires file a claim and then make a trail to frame them for insurance fraud.

#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase #thalia grace #hazel levesque #will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo #percabeth #grover underwood #rachel elizabeth dare

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reverieblondie · 6 months

Text

Nobel Blood

Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff and Smut with Plot, Penetrate sex, Tail rubbing?, Desk sex, Cream pie.

Summary: High society has never been your thing, and now your having to go to the Raven Ball...Maybe you will see a familiar face trying to conduct himself in a new landscape...

A/N: This might be completely self indulgent...but I liked it...

Word Count: 7,370 (I got carried away...)

“What about this one? What do you think?”

Rolan appears from behind his changing screen in a new blue jacket with silver embroidery and buttons. The collar and cuffs are lined with silver. His pants are black and a bit tighter to his body than he is accustomed to. The boots he’s wearing are shining and new. Giving himself a once-over in the mirror in his room, he turns around, holding out his arms.

“Be honest… Thoughts?”

A very bored-looking Cal is lying on Rolan's bed. He turns his head, looks at his brother, and gives him a once-over.

“Like I told you about the four other outfits… You look fine. Please just pick one!”

Rolan scoffs, “Cal, this is important. I have to look my best to make a good first impression. There will be a lot of important people there today. This could lead to some great opportunities.”

Cal looks at Rolan, a bit worried, “Rolan, you are putting a lot of pressure on yourself. Just go and relax, maybe meet someone, make friends. You know, have fun!”

Rolan rolls his eyes as he does his hair in his usual tight, twisted bun, “I’m not going to waste the opportunity to have fun!”

Once he had finished with his hair, he adjusted his collar before turning to have Cal assess him once more. When he turned, he saw the prominent frown on Cal's face. He sighs, “Cal, you know how people look at us. This is a chance to change people's perceptions.”

“The right people, you don't have to change their perceptions…”

The room is quiet, and a silent understanding fills the space. The silence is cut by Lia busting through the doors of the master bedroom. Looking at them like they have lost their minds.

“What are you two doing? Rolan, stop fussing and get going! You get invited to a ball and waste your time primping!”

Rolan sighs as Lia dusts off his shoulders and places his invite in his jacket pocket. Pausing, she looks at his hair and starts to pull and loosen his usual style, making it softer looking with some strains to frame his face and the tips of his ears poking out a bit more,

“What the hells Lia! My hair was fine!”

“No, you always wear it so tight you want it looser, rugged.”

“I’m going for cool and collect.”

“Yeah, but ladies like a bit of ruggedness.”

Rolan swats away her hands and starts to leave,

“I'm not going there to get a date!”

Lia huffs at his leaving figure, “Hopeless…”

Cal looks over at Lia, “Any chance he’s going to loosen up and have a good time tonight.”

Lia takes a moment to ponder the question, “If the right person talks to him.”

-KAW!-

The sudden noise tries to break you from your slumber, but only briefly before you lol back to your dreams…magic hands…a soft warmth…a husky whisper…

-KAW KAW!-

The dream is ripped from you as your eyes are popped open; on pure instinct, you reach for your knife under your pillow, but as you look towards the noise, you pause.

The Falcon blinks and tilts its head at you, curiously fidgeting and hopping closer to you. You pull your hand away from the blade and sigh at the familiar bird, “Hello, Rune. Do you have something for me?”

Rune turns, revealing a message carrier just like you expected, “Clever bird,”

Reaching over you, you scratch her neck while you retrieve the message from the red tube. The tube has an emblem very familiar to you: a golden long sword with vines and two golden roses by the sword's hilt. The paper is thick and white, wrapped with a red ribbon. Unwrapping it, you see the fancy script, and it clicks to you what is happening.

“An invitation for the Raven Ball…and I'm guessing they are hoping for me to attend?”

Rune kaws in what seems to be agreement; you nod at her.

“Well, I guess I should head that way… she's bound to be waiting for me.”

Walking up to the massive mansion lined with guards and littered with candles. The entryway is opened for the invited to shuffle in and out of the party. Just deep breaths, smile, and be pleasant…have grace, and don’t throw punches to the face; saying the rhyme in your head brings back fond memories, and you have to stifle a laugh breaking from your throat. One of your two companions notices you hiding a smirk; he notices everything, and it never fails to drive you crazy.

“Nervous Darling?” Astarion smirks, his red eyes observing you as if he could read your mind.

“Nope, are you?” You challenge.

Astarion fakes a laugh and smiles, showing his long fangs flashing in the candlelight. “Never”

Typical…

Walking through the entrance is like walking through time; these balls have always been the same. The host and the house may change, but the overcrowded rooms are filled with the rich and self-important. Deep breaths… keep taking deep breaths….

Arriving at the main hall of the home with Astarion and Shadowheart in tow, you pause with them as they marvel at the grand space. It truly is a beautiful event. Servers glide around the room with their pristine trays, serving fine wines to everyone; Astarion is quick to grab himself a glass as they walk past. The center of the room is filled with people clapping and turning, floating along to the music. Shadowheart keeps her green eyes scanning the dance floor; she is looking for someone in particular…it is the only reason she decided on attending this ball, along with your pleading. Moving your eyes around the space, the candles light the room brightly and make the gilded arches and decor glimmer in an almost magic shine. Knowing how these people love theatrics, they probably had wizards put on some spells for the grandeur of it all.

Turning to your friends, you see they are entirely taken in by the atmosphere, though when Astarion meets your eyes, he plays his wonderment off as if this is nothing to him. As they continue to stroll about, you continue to fuss around with your dress, the corset's tightness starting to irritate you, and the flowing skirt and sleeves feeling like they're going to wrap around your legs and trip you. You curse under your breath as you have a small battle with the dress picked out for you.

“Dress issues?” Astarion teases

You roll your eyes, and you adjust the bodice up, but you find the action is in vain as your cleavage is still on full display. It's been years, and it makes sense the dress wouldn’t lay the same, but the high golden necklace always sat tight on your neck, forcing you to keep your head up, the exposedness of your chest and shoulders always made your cheeks flush, and the tight bodice lined with gold down to your hips always made your breath short. You did like the ruffled white skirt with the red front panel and the matching red sleeves that go from bust to cascade down your arms; it did look nice. But the part you constantly fidget with for comfort is the emblem at the center of your sweetheart neckline. It's that same one it's always been, a golden longsword with two golden roses…

“Just…adjusting…” you smirk back to hide your irritation.

“These corsets are murder but do wonders for the figure at least?” Shadowheart chimes in

Her silvery white hair contrasted beautifully with her lilac silk dress. The fabric looks like it drapes and flows effortlessly off her polling elegantly at the bottom, and as she moves, it reveals a long slit over her right leg. For a dress she picked out today, it looks like it could have been custom-made for her. She had fussed about the dress and her hair, wearing it in a different style than usual, but you assured her she looked terrific and would catch the eye of a certain soon-to-be duke…

Astarion places reassuring hands on yours and her shoulders. “Well, the dresses are definitely an improvement from the drab, caked-up with, grime outfits I had grown accustomed to seeing you in.”

You both look at each other before looking at him unamused. “Thanks, Astarion…” you say in unison, not completely happy that he pointed out your dirty states on the journey you all met on.

“Anytime Darlings~”

Shadowheart’s eyes go back to the dancefloor, and you think for a moment that you see her getting on her tiptoes (despite being in heels) to look over some heads.

“I think I might stroll around the room…see if I can find any…interesting company.”

You and Astarion look at each other, knowing what she truly means; translation: Shadowheart is going to look for Wyll. They are such an opposite duo, but they are just drawn to one another. Astarion always teases the names Shadow Princess and the Horned Prince when talking about them and their longing for each other.

Shadowheart turns to see your smirking faces and she rolls her eyes before walking off. Good luck you silently wish for her…

You watch as she makes her way through the crowd, a part of you wants to go with her to help navigate the space but you know she wants privacy for this and you don’t blame her. While you watch the floor a familiar sensation of red eyes and a fiendish smirk being placed in your direction makes you shudder. Looking up at him you see a very well-dressed Astarion looking like a vision in all black except for the wine-colored small jacket and gold and ruby necklaces hanging from his neck. When you asked about the jewels he just chuckled and left a quick poke on your nose, a way to irritate you and avoid your questions. He continues to stare and smile at the devious thoughts running rampant in his mind.

“Yes?”

Astarion looks away with a slight laugh, “Oh, nothing nothing…just curious if you were going to go look for anyone special tonight. Any fine suitors on the line for you to turn about with?”

When asked only one person flashes in your mind, but you shake it off not wanting to get your hopes too high. He would probably find something like this a waste of time.

“No, I’m planning a rather dull evening of just watching the grander, saying hi to familiar faces. No suitors eager for my hand. You?”

Astarion looks around the room piercing his lips, “I might also be having a rather drab evening…nothing seems to catch my eye, which is too bad I was in the mood to make some trouble.”

A slight laugh escapes your throat and Astarion looks at you with a raised brow, “Something funny?”

“Well, I just think you have changed a lot since a certain bear tagged along…come to think of it you just came back from the old shadow lands and are planning to go back…”

Astrion narrows his eyes at you and you grin widely knowing he’s smitten.

“Very clever…well, I will leave you to it, going to go find some more wine and maybe go rub elbows with some important-looking people…”

“Play nice Astarion!”

“No promises! Ta Ta!”

With both your friends gone you're now alone in the ballroom and now it definitely feels like old times. Memories of your childhood flash through your mind as you watch. In your memory it's a younger you, biting her lip in disdain and fumbling with her dress, head sore with the elaborate braids that were decorated with trinkets and jewels. The biggest thing you remember? The feeling so isolated and unwelcomed by people meant to be your peers. You can recall two gentle hands placed on your shoulders as people just passed you by…

Shaking off the memories you look at the huddles of people near the walls engaged in conversations, “Well, better go say hi to mom and dad…” Gathering up your skirt and taking another deep breath you go on the prowl.

It was overwhelming and Rolan had to stand to the side to recollect himself. It turns out that coming to socialize with people from the upper city was a lot more difficult than he initially expected. He was starting to wonder why the hell he came here. Yes, he had been formally invited but the people didn’t seem to know who he was or they were staring at him and whispering amongst themselves. Was this all a joke…was he just a thing to be stared at and mocked for the night's entertainment?

Looking down at his crimson hands and long nails…his tail twists around his leg as he balls his hands into tight fists. He shouldn’t have come here, he didn’t belong. Cal and Lia had been so excited about his invitation and were eager to help him get ready with high hopes of him growing his name to the city's lords and ladies. He had promised to make friends and get them invited to the next ball, but now that seems like a silly fantasy.

Unraveling his tail and holding his head up, he decides to leave until a familiar figure catches his eye. Astarion? The pale elf has his red eyes on Rolan while keeping a smug smile on his face, instead of waving or greeting him; however, Rolan's thoughts trail to something, someone else. Scanning the room he’s hoping to catch the sight of a particular hero…

“If it isn't the Archmage of Ramaziths Tower, I figured you would see these parties as a waste of time.”

Rolan's body immediately tenses and he turns around quickly, You smile for having spooked him. You watch as his shining eyes widen as they trail over you, his lips slightly parted and you think you hear his tail fall to the ground. From his reaction alone you're suddenly no longer lamenting having to wear the dress and in fact decide to stand a bit straighter. Once he realizes he’s staring he averts his gaze from your chest and neck, clearing his throat.

“Tav, what…why?”

“What? Not happy to see me?

“I- no…I mean I am! Well not happy, I mean I am happy but not super happy, but a surprised happy! Uh…pleasantly surprised….”

His eyes meet yours and winces at himself, understanding how these parties can whine someone up you decide to ease the tension. Giggling at his rambling you gently punch his shoulder breaking the awkwardness threatening to set in. The force of the punch causes him to stumble and smile.

“It’s good to see you, but I’m a little shocked. I figured these parties would be far too stuffy for such a great adventuring hero of the gate.”

You shrug looking out to the party where you see Astrion watching you two, you give him a look of ‘what?’ and he shakes his head with a smirk and walks away. You turn back to Rolan,

“Actually I’m pretty used to these stuffy parties.”

Rolan’s brows furrow as he looks down at you confused, you do the same as you look up at him, and then it clicks.

“Rolan, I’m from Baldur's Gate. I grew up having to go to these parties and having to take etiquette classes. My mother is a countess, from a long line of nobility and my father is a general for a regiment of the city's army.”

Rolan's eyes widen as you nonchalantly explain your past, “Your… a lady from an important house of Baldur's Gate…and you were out slumming it in the wild? Wielding swords and blowing up goblin camps?”

Thinking for a second you nod “Yeah, my dad used to take me camping and taught me how to fight. Mom wanted me to be a proper socialite but I didn't exactly fit in… Once I got older they told me I could go travel the swords coast, get the wildness out of me before finding a suitor, ya know?”

Rolan shakes his head with a smile, “So you left all of this to adventure and ended up getting a tadpole in your head. That inevitably leads you back here…”

“Hey, I had adventures before that! But I will say that one was my favorite.”

Rolan smirks and looks down at you, “Because it made you a hero?”

You look up at him, his gentle gaze and soft loose strands of hair cascading around his horns making your heart flutter, “Because I got to make friends, and meet you.”

Rolan's face gets slightly darker as he thinks of something to say. With him tongue-tied you take the opportunity to tease him more by sticking your tongue at him. He rolls his eyes and turns away, you swear you see the tips of his ears a light hue of marron now.

“Why are you here? And are Cal and Lia with you? I miss them and their tormenting of you.” You continued to tease. Though you see Rolan’s face slightly drop.

“Well…I was the only one to receive an invitation and I didn’t realize I could bring anyone…I wish I would have, with them around I wouldn’t feel so…” Rolan shakes his head as if to shake away his thought, “I came here to meet people to get them interested in the tower's knowledge and to show that I am a worthy archmage. But I haven’t been able to talk to anyone “

Your heart sinks as you listen to Rolan, you remember having to go there alone at times…Rolan is always trying so hard for his family, it's quite honorable of him and one of the things that drew you to him. Thinking for a moment you try to think of a plan before it hits suddenly, “Rolan I can get you a formal introduction to someone who is very important and that I know would like to hear about the tower.”

Rolan’s face lights up, “I would, I would be so grateful.”

Smiling you wrap your arm around Rolan’s elbow, a part of you thought that he would recoil but he seems to welcome the gesture by straightening his posture and tightening up his arm. Your hand creases his bicep and it takes every part of you not to start teasing him about his surprisingly muscular form. Act like a proper socialite, for Rolan’s sake.

As you two stroll about the floor you keep your eyes peeled. Though you do see some people staring at you and Rolan as you walk arm in arm, you figure people are just wanting to gawk at the hero and the new archmage.

“Seems like we are popular sights tonight.”

Rolan hums, “I think you are the popular sight, I’m probably more of the skeptical…”

“Specktical?”

Looking over to meet your eyes Rolan just gently squeezes your hand, “Never mind, uh, so who are we looking for?”

“Her.”

Pointing out your finger you lead Rolan’s eyes to a group of women fanning themselves as they scan their eyes like hawks around the room. They are all dressed immaculately and as the two of you approach they keep their eyes locked on you both. One of the women quickly whispers to a taller woman, the taller woman turns and Rolan has to hold back his gasp.

She looks like you…well an older version but still stunning. Rolan feels his throat instantly dry and when he looks over to you with a panicked expression, he admittedly comprehends what's happening and he’s never felt so unprepared in his life. Feeling him tense you keep a soft smile and gently rub small circles on his hand, trying to ensure he’s calm when meeting your mother.

In front of the intimidating woman (he sees where you get it now) you release yourself from his arm and give a curtsy. Rolan follows your lead and gives a bow.

“Countess, I would like to formally introduce you to Archmage Rolan, Master of Ramaziths Tower. Rolan, this is the Countess, also known as my mother.”

You feel your cheeks grow red, you're introducing a man to your mother…you never thought this would be happening, it’s very proper of you. Looking up at her face you see a soft smile, for her that’s practically beaming. So far so good.

“I heard about the last master's passing…” she says casually. You and Rolan exchanged a glance before she continued “Can’t say I wasn’t fond of the news, he was always a poor representation of the tower. A bit of a cad.”

Rolan’s jaw practically drops and you are quick to continue the conversation for him while he recollects himself,

“Well, I will have to tell you Rolan is quite proficient in magic, self-taught and self-disciplined. He plans on studying and cataloging the tomes in the tower to then share the knowledge with the realms.” You praise

“That's quite the honorable aspiration for a young man. I am sure everyone would be quite pleased to have access to its knowledge. I have been to your tower once before in my youth, the smell of the weave in the air and the majesty of all the books still leaves me with pleasant memories.”

Meaning: ‘Invite me over to see the tower again because ladies do not invite themselves places’. You're not a bit surprised your mother is taking a fast liking to Rolan, he has a title, is respectable, and usually can hold his own in a conversation but today he seems to keep getting tongue-tied, we’ll chop that up to nerves. With a subtle nudge to his arm, you break him out of his daze where he can give her a proper answer.

“Well, th-thank you. I think everyone should have access to knowledge if they want it. Also, you and Tav should join me at the tower for tea. I will have to prepare a bit but I would be delighted to have you two there.”

Two of her ladies-in-waiting mutter something to each other earning them a prompt glare from the Countess. They quickly scurry away.

“I would be delighted to just name the date. Plus I would love to hear about how you two met, knowing my daughter that story will be filled with twists and turns.”

Rolan giggles and you look at your mom in shock as she openly teases you. You have never seen her be so casual with a stranger, well for her this is casual. You can’t help but feel a warmth in your chest, you never were one to crave approval from anyone but it does feel nice when your Mother seems to improve the boy you like.

“I will have you know I handled myself with dignity and grace-“

“I watched her punch someone in the face for defending my kind, it was a lasting impression, a good one,” Rolan says with a laugh and causes your mother to let out a giggle -that woman never giggles!

“Well I will have to forgive her for that, sounds like that punch was well deserved.” Your mother looks at you and you see a softness in her eyes “My tough girl.”

The moment is soft before your mother changes the subject. Ladies must keep the conversation flowing after all.

“Now Tav, why don’t you introduce Master Rolan to your father? I’m sure he would love to meet him.”

With a curtsy and a bow, you two make your way to find your father.

“Never seen you so proper…” Rolan leans down to whisper in your ears, you have to fight the tingling that threatens to show on your skin. Nothing quick like his mockery so close to you.

You take Rolan's arm so he’s leading you through the room, “Never seen you so tongue-tied…” you mock back.

“She's intimidating… I see where you get it from…”

“You should see when she doesn’t like someone, that’s intimidating.”

“Any warnings about your father? Or do you plan to surprise me again?”

“Oh but you do look so cute lost for words, I didn’t know wizards had that capability.” you coo back now blatantly flirting, very unladylike. The scandal…

Feeling bold Rolan tightens his grip on your arm where you can feel his nails against your skin, it is mind-numbing this sudden game. “And I didn't know how ravishing you look in a dress so tightly wound to you.”

The sudden boldness of his words makes you pause, and your cheeks redden. Rolan nervously clears his throat unsure if he overstepped… he brings his eyes up for a distraction and lucky for him he finds one.

“Tav look”, Following his gesture to the dance floor you see a heartwarming sight that distracts your thrumming heart. Wyll spins around the dance floor holding Shadowheart close to his body and he leads her through the dance. They look like a vision together, everyone seems to pause and look at them as they command the space with little effort.

It's while you're watching them you feel a warm hand wrapping around your own. Looking up to its source you see Rolans gleaming eyes on yours taking you in slowly. You swear it’s a secret spell of his to become out of breath and feel sparks when you look at him. The feeling rushes through your veins like it has since you first met him at the grove and all the moments after. Rolan's lips part gracing you with a quick view of his sharp teeth till suddenly you feel yourself being grabbed and thrown into the air.

“And! There is my wayward daughter! Our righteous hero graced us with her presents! Ha Haaa!”

The voice is loud and booming as the large arms wrap around you forcing your body into the air before crashing you back down to your heeled feet. Your father, as bostress as ever and completely uncaring for these parties 'etiquettes’ as always. In a lot of ways, the apple did not fall from the tree.

Taking a moment he scans over you, it's been far too long since you saw him, and from how you ramble and rave at each other it shows. Then his eyes start to scan around you till they are meeting with Rolans, and your father smiles like a Cheshire cat.

“Ah, and I see the rumors are true. You have a gentleman escort this evening.”

“Actually I have two others but one is dancing with the Duke's son while the other is bound to be causing trouble.”

“Trading in for different companies.” His eyes go to Rolan and you see him tease over your father's gaze, “Now to see if this man was worth it.”

“Well, he is a wizard…” Your eyes go to Rolan and you two are now assessing him

“Meet plenty of spellcasters,”

You continue, “Archmage of Ramiths tower…he got the areca artillery working in the battle saving my and my friends' necks.

“The Fire Rainer!” Your father yells, making Rolan and nearby people jump.

Before Rolan can properly process what is happening your Father is grabbing his hand in a crushing grip that Rolan returns.

“My men, We were all in awe of your work getting those dusty turrets to work. And for helping my Tav. Good man.” he continues to shake Rolan's hand for a long moment before letting go and placing a hand on your shoulder.

“He’s good company to keep, strong grip and with fire in his eyes.”

You look at Rolan giving him a nod of a good job before your father is turning to both of you. With a wide grin.

“Now! Rolan, if you walk around with my daughter you must ask her for a dance!”

Rolan stutters over his words as you look at your father like he’s lost his mind.

“Dad, You can’t make him dance.”

“Why not? He wishes to be near you; he must dance with you.”

The words make you flush as you avoid Rolan's eyes, “He’s not the dancing type…”

This causes Rolan to lift a brow, then you feel Rolan’s warm hands on yours leading you suddenly towards the dance floor. In a swift flourish, Rolan spins you and grasps his hand in yours, placing the other on your hip and smirking at your shocked expression…

“Looks like he is!” your father calls barely audible through the music.

The transition to the dance is effortless as you two glide across the floor. Watching his glimmering eyes on yours is spurring your heart into a rush. Your body feels like it’s on fire as he effortlessly glides you through turns and claps. Eyes never leaving one another.

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance?”

Rolan scoffs, “Of course, I know how to dance, you don’t think I haven’t gone to parties before?”

lifting a brow, you look at him with an unamused expression, “OK, I might have practiced…”

You laugh and let him spin you out, then catching your hand and pulling you back to him. His hands in yours, your back flushed to his chest. The dance is completely intertwining, his scent, his warmth, the purring of his chuckling laugh. You want more, your hope is for this dance to never end so you can stay in his arms.

With a twist and a sway of your hips, you smile at him as the blush rushes to his speckled cheeks, a reminder that you are experienced at these dances and you will not hesitate to spice up the moves if it means rubbing against him. It makes his heart thum as he turns you around again, his tail wrapping slightly around your dress as he steps with you till plunging you down to a dip.

A perfect dance partner, finally.

You two stay locked within each other's snare, a small feeling of leaning forward towards each other causing your mouth to water in anticipation of a kiss. Then breaking you two from the moment is roaring applause that fills the room. He lets you rise, and you two join the applause of the musicians as well.

A normal socialite would worry if people could tell how much you liked him. You don’t care, however, Rolan is magnificent, and you would scream it at the top of your lungs, but you know this is his chance to impress rich bastards and prove himself worthy of his new illustrious Title. Of course, the right people already know this, he doesn’t need to impress them.

As you look to the crowd to make your way to your dad to give him sass (and maybe a pat on the back for making that happen for you) you see Rolan Pointing to the front part of the dance floor, music starting to swell up again and your father and mother swaying to the song. Another set of perfectly matched dance partners.

Offering his elbow to you again, you curtsy at Rolan's gesture and let him lead you off the floor. A perfect gentleman, If your mother is watching she is beaming with pride (though she will talk to you about that hip swaying later). Off the floor, your dry throat hits you,

“ I'm going to get a drink, do you want anything?”

“Oh I can-“

“Rolan I can grab drinks, I’m still a hero of the Gate, not a delicate flower.” You tease him.

“A glass of wine sounds great then,”

“I will be a quick second, wait here” With that you gather your skirt and shuffle away. Both of you trying to hide your dorky grins for one another.

Then a stray voice catches Rolan off guard, “Dancing with a noble…but don’t forget you're just hellspawn trash…”

Roland’s eyes widen, and he turns around quickly, but he is met with nothing but a crowd of people wrapped in their own world. One that some are not willing to invite him to. He watches them so clearly, trying not to stare, others staring, and sharing whispers. Then his eyes meet yours.

Golden eyes that you can always catch in any crowd. They shine his brilliance and never fail to make your heartbeat rush. Anyone would be lucky to have him look their way and right now that’s you, drinks in hand, you pick up your speed to get to him faster, but then his starburst eyes shut in something that resembles pain and then he’s gone…Rushing out of the room away from you.

Pausing you watch him leave, your heart sinking to your stomach. Swallowing down the feeling you place the cups on the nearest waiter's tray and run after him.

The hallways are dark as you follow after him. It only gets darker and darker, till you see him dipping into a side room, shutting the door behind him. It takes a bit of self-control on your part, not to rip the door off its hinges as you open it, but the site makes you slow down.

His tail twisted tightly to his leg, hands in his hair, and talking quickly in infernal. Gently you close the door behind you, and with a click lock giving you two privacy in the dark office. Rolan's shoulders tense at the sound of the lock, he can’t bear to look and see your disappointment. You carefully approach as he braces his hands down on the desk. His body so tight you think he will snap two.

“Rolan, wh-what happened?”

Turning his head, his golden eyes shine through the darkness. And they see you perfectly. Face contorted in worry as you gently approach. Your face is the one he knows, the one he saw shining in the sunlight of the Grove, the face that saved him from shadows in the cursed land, the one who held his bruised face so gently promising Lorroakan would never hurt him again… the hero of the gate…his hero.

Then his eyes tail down, his Tav, the hero, dressed in the finest fabrics, a lady of Noble Birth, someone too good for someone like him.

In your eyes, you see him for what he truly is, a strong dreamer, someone who you would walk through the Hells for. A man so dedicated to the ones he loves, you want to love and care for him till your last breath.

“I don’t belong here…I am a joke…a monster for everyone to gawk at.” He finally confesses.

Your eyes grow wide and all you feel is anger, “Did someone say something to you…do something?! Who? I swear I will-“

Before you can, march back into the ballroom and demand reconciliation with blood, you feel warmth wrapping around your shoulders and around your ankle. Rolan's warmth envelops you in his arms, holding you tightly to his chest. Clinging to his forearms you lean into him letting yourself calm.

“You're better than any of them…” you whisper

“Is that what you think?” he mutters in response

“Rolan it’s what I know, you're extraordinary.”

Rolan’s arms tighten around you making you never want to leave his caress, but you still turn to look at him. placing a hand on his face, he’s perfect in your eyes…

“We are different…” he almost pouts

“I like our differences.”

Rolan’s hands slip down to your waist.

“Won’t they slander you, and your family's name?”

“Not the people who matter to me…” your words like a promise

You lean into him rising to your toes to be only a touch away from his lips. You feel his breath fan across yours, and a rush of desire floods your body and mind.

“They will say I tainted you…” his hands caressing your face so gently

“They can go fuck themselves”

The smile you two share is perfect, right before he presses his lips to yours. His lips caressed yours, setting your body a flame, his nails digging into the sides of your dress, and as you felt their points, you gasped and let him trail his lips sloppily on your jaw to your neck. Your mind melted at every rush of his lips, becoming more breathless as the pleasure of this moment crashed over you then pooling into an aching need in your lower stomach. All the blood and the thoughts rush to your swelling bud, leaving your mind in a haze of lust.

Rolan’s tongue licks down at your clavicle while his hands move to cup your breast. You can’t help but shake as he presses kisses and sucks marks to the tops of them. Rolan’s lips find yours again in hunger this time as his tongue seeks to taste more of you. Eargery you met his passion with your own tasting, his wine-laced tongue burning against yours. Undoing the buttons of his jacket you strip it off him in a rush. Once it’s off and tossed to the floor he breaks the kiss and whimpers against your lips, his chest vibrating under your fingertips in a purr.

Turning you quickly, your thighs meet the side of the desk as his lips continue to caress your neck, removing your necklace to nip on your most sensitive spots, all you can do is moan and chant a series of ‘yeses’ and sweet mews of his name. He hums as he spoils himself, touching all over your form.

“More, Rolan…I want to feel more,” your pant

“Here?” The question is raspy and sends shivers through you to your sex.

“Yes.”

Rolan responds by peppering kisses all over you as he quickly gathers your skirt around your hips. Bending over you feel your face burn as you hear is breath hitch,

“F-fuck…” he whispers

You're already bare opting for no underwear, a destination you made on a meer whim but are happy with now. A whimper escapes him as he views you slick and puffy cunt for him, in a deep dialect he mutters something you can not understand that causes your slit to quiver. he no longer has patience his want takes control and you hear his frantic hands undoing his belt.

The moment is eager and full of hunger, the want between you two building to this moment of passion. Rolan has your skirts gathered in a fist as he pushes his burning erection through you making your head spin. The moment is raw and hungry as he hisses from your walls so tight and soft around him, fuck, nobody told him how…soft humans were…

The feeling of the stretch is eye-watering as a lewd moan erupts from your throat, then the feeling of every ridge sliding and reshaping your velvet insides. The curve of his cock brings his sharp tip to find your sensitive spot, nudging and coating it in his burning precum, your toes curl in your heels as your vision blurs, tightening your grip on the oak desk. It's hot, intense, and the best pleasure you have ever felt.

Rolan whimpers and moans as he pushes into your heat further. His face comes down to bury himself into your neck grunting in what sounds more like a whine. Sweat is sheening both of you now in this heated moment your only reprieve of coolness is his panting breath on your neck. Then his hand comes down to yours bracing you and he intervenes his fingers with yours before he gives a final thrust, his blazing tip now nudging on the deepest parts of you. Your slit is taut and your insides flutter against him as you get accustomed to his rigged girth.

“Gods, you feel amazing. Practically sucking me in…” his rich voice rasps into your ear making you shudder.

Taking a second to breathe in the scent of your sweaty neck and your cascading hair; further getting drunk off you. He rolls his hips back, and the drag of his ridges on your gummy walls is an unimaginable pleasure making you arch in a scream to your god.

Pulling to the tip it’s only a second of emptiness before his hips are snapping back into you forcing all the air from your lungs. Continuing to thrust into you back and forth at a constant pace, you mew and grip his hand so tightly. Your arousal drips down his cock and your thighs as it's fucked out of you, desperate to coat his cock.

“Their mighty hero…sweating and dripping for me. You're my girl…you have always been…”

You can’t even think coherent thoughts only able to respond by arching your back further. The room is drowned in your cock drunk moans and his deep growling as your pussy continues to get ravished by him. Hot waves start to build up in your stomach leaving tingles in their wake as you approach your ecstasy. Rolan feels your trembling against his cock making him angle it in deeper. He’s right in his sentiment…you are his…as he is yours…the bond you share led to this moment of passion—the ultimate satisfaction of the want you have for each other.

It's bliss and you rock your hips to meet his thrust, a chuckle escapes him before you feel the rough dragging being rewarded to your clit. It's warm and soft with lines of ridges dragging against you. It only dawns on you as you feel its spaded tip you realize he’s grinding his tail against your sticky sex. Both sensations make spots blur your vision as drool begins to pool in your agape mouth.

In a silent scream, your orgasm crashes over you as all your essences coats him dripping down to fall on his boots and pooling to the floor. Rolan guides you through your high not stopping his thrust while your sex desperately grips him. A ring of creamy arousal forms where you both connect. The sight and feel of your overstimulated pussy fluttering is enough to cause his hips to still and his cock to throb shooting blissfully hot cum in thick spurts, filling you to the brim. The growl is guttural and vibrates through him as he comes down from his high.

Rolan presses his forehead to your shoulder blades as he stays within you for a moment longer letting his ridges smooth as his cock softens till finally pulling out. You can feel the mix of both releases leaking down your legs uncomfortably resisting the urge to beg him to finger it back in.

“Wait one moment,” he says quickly with a soothing rub to your waist as you hear him digging around for his discarded jacket.

Then very gently you feel a soft cotton cloth whipping you down to clean you. Soft ‘shhs’ and coos leave his lips and he is careful over your spet sex. He takes his time, then once you're cleaned and your dress is back down you face his back as he cleans himself, looking over his shoulder with a smile as he retucks himself. Leaning back against the desk you relish in watching him rebutton himself up so elegantly.

His golden eyes stay on you as he gently caresses your sweaty face. Before he leaves he will snap his figures with a spell to clean you two of any lewd residue, but for now, he wants to relish your afterglow. You two stay in silent bliss and his eyes roam over your face, your fingers gently playing with the loose strains of his hair. He’s the first to speak up,

“I want to court you properly.”

Your eyes grow wide, and so does your smile, your heart racing, and sparks burst into your stomach.

“If you were planning to court me, we have already messed up. You're not supposed to have sex beforehand.”

“I don’t care; I’m not of noble blood, so I will do this my way.” there's that confidence.

Rolan pulls you in for a slow kiss that causes your heart to flip and your head to cloud in a pleasant fog.

“Good,” you whisper

Rolan backs up slightly and bows, causing you to giggle as he reaches for your hand. Placing your hand in his, you gently squeeze it as he brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly like a suitor would any proper lady.

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k1ngpin42 · 5 months

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Abby HCS (Yes it's mostly smut)

AN: I had a list of Abby head canons that I wanted to post and I’ve been searching for it for days now. Alas- it is lost. But here are some new ones.

Top or bottom?

Okay we all know how confident (cocky) Abby is and this definitely translates to the bedroom. She likes to be really fucking rough with it, mainly because she just likes powering over your smaller frame and watching you struggle to take her. This isn’t to say she doesn’t take care of you- in fact its her utmost priority. She’ll drown you in a chorus of praises while fucking you within an inch of your life.

This being said, she definitely can be subby too. She’d probably only let this happen if she’s had a really tense week or you’ve done something to really make her happy- after all, all good girls deserve a reward.

Kinks:

I’m sorry if this grosses anyone out but she definitely has a breeding kink. Me personally, I don’t like babies or kids, but I’d let her filthily tell me to “take her kid” while she fucks me. When you ask her about it she avoids the subject. “Breed kink I don’t- that was just talk, just drop it.”

She’s all for public sex. Even if it isn’t directly fucking you in front of an audience, she’ll make sure you’re fucking screaming when in her dorm, knowing there’s people outside. “Move your fucking hand from your mouth, scream my name baby, let them know who’s making you feel like this.”

Fluff:

She loves playing with your hair. She’ll run her fingers through it and massage your scalp, she’ll shampoo it for you in the shower, she’ll braid it when it’s drying, she loves the smell of your hair too, always so clean.

She loves training with you, practically babying you even though you can handle yourself. “Lift one more baby you’ve almost got it- mm good girl.” But it’s already your 10th rep.

She likes talking about her interests

Won’t admit it because she’s Abby, but aftercare is her favourite part of sex.

About Abby:

We know she likes dogs, collecting coins, she’s funny, enjoys the gym and competitive, but I feel like she secretly enjoys some more childish hobbies after not really allowing herself to enjoy those things when she was a kid after her dads death.

Additional NSFW:

Adding to the public sex thing, she definitely makes you put a vibrator in around base.

Get’s so jealous when you’re around certain people that she grabs you by the hand, pulls you into the nearest, semi-isolated area and fucks you dumb until you forget anyone and everyone else.

Such a munch gf. She loves eating you out so much that even when you’re wining for her to stop because you’ve already cum, she just won’t stop tasting you. That girl is moaning into your cunt like its the best thing that will ever exist.

Very loud in sex, constantly talking, praising, groaning, moaning, and she loves hearing you gag around her strap before she puts it in.

That’s about it kiddies. :)

#abby tlou #tlou #tlou2 #abby smut #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams 18+

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6ix9inewiturmom · 5 months

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Camera Caught- Matt Sturniolo

Summary: you accidentally left some hickeys on matt’s neck and the fans catch it, start making edits, and matt “punishes” you

Warnings: SMUT, degradation, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (female receiving), P in V, Unprotected sex, praising, slight crying.

A/N: I LOVE YOU ALL ENJOYY

PSA: I GIVE NO RIGHTS TO COPY MY WORK OR USE MY WORK FOR “INSPIRATION”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Matt and I’s relationship has been very very private, we've been trying to keep it that way till we both collectively agreed to go public. Matt was down in the garage filming for a Friday video and I was endlessly scrolling on TikTok, I came across this edit of Matt, I didn't think much of it till i saw the comments.

Mattscupsupremacy: THE HICKEY?! WHO IS SHE?? MATTS A FREAKY GAL

Chrissypoohmylover: UHM MATTHEW?? what a freaky man.. she’s one lucky girl to be getting that fire dick

Nickismyqueen: WHY IS NO ONE POINTING OUT THE FACT HES NOT EVEN TRYING TO COVER IT UP??

Yamother6629: we lost another one girls… Funeral at my place at 6 pm tmr 😔💔

Thefourthtriplet5239: MATT SEEMED SO VANILLA.. who would ever guess that man is kinky?

“No no no” I say panicking out loud and immediately jumping out of bed and running through the house and busting the door open to the garage where Nick, Matt, and Chris are barging into the garage which sends the boys into an immediate panic

“Okay so you can edit this out of the video but it's an emergency,” I say out of breath.

“Girl go the fuck on, you said it’s an emergency, spill let’s go” Nick says snapping his fingers.

“Okay, patience, so I was scrolling through TikTok like normally waiting for you guys to finish filming and I scroll across this Matt edit,” I say trying to find the edit on my phone.

“Y/N how many times do I have to tell you to stop watching edits of me, I'm right here no need to fangirl over me,” Matt says with a sense of cockyness in his voice.

“No no hold on it gets better, so I scroll through the comments cause you know it's funny watching as the 12-year-olds talk about you being their ‘baby’-” start before Chris cut me off

“GET TO THE FUCKING POINT YAPPER,” Chris says throwing his hands in the air

“Says the one who goes on about putting a literal tit milk-drinking infant in the backseat of a car with no car seat. So let's not talk about her yapping” nick defends.

“ANYWAYS, Matt you forgot to cover your hickeys from the other night and everyone knows about it now, cause when you moved out of frame your hoodie must have come down, and there are edits and people calling you ‘vanilla’ whatever the hell that means, and like everyone is wondering who the girl is and I'm like panicking now,” I say with panic in my voice “I know you weren't ready to go public but everyone is like freaking the fuck out” I continue.

“Fuck, I thought the hoodie was a good cover” matt sighs “look its fine well figure it out after I'm done filming just go back inside and calm the hell down” he gives me a quick peck on my forehead and shutting the door of the car.

A couple of minutes later I got a text from matt, normally he does send me the occasional ‘i love you, almost done filming’ message but this one was a little different.

Matty B Rapz 💍

you’re in big trouble for getting us caught

i hope you ain’t tired cause you’re in for a long night

This wasn't out of the normal for Matt to be rough with me but over text? This is new, but I love it. I could feel myself getting soaked at all the possible ways Matt could fuck me, all the positions, thinking of all the ways in which he could make me cum.

After an hour and a half of endless scrolling through TikTok, I can hear the footsteps of Matt through the hallway.

“Hi baby, how was filming?” I say as he walks in the door immediately shutting it and locking it.

“Don't ‘baby’ me, strip,” he says harshly as his eyes darken with lust.

A smirk appeared on my lips, and moved off the bed walking towards him as I placed my phone down on the bedside table and slowly and teasingly removed my pants and shirt leaving me in my light pink lingerie set that I knew drove him insane, the way it hugged my curves, pushed my Brests up with a small delicate flower in the middle, and my underwear that sat and hung onto my hips with another small flower in the middle of it.

“So fucking sexy,” Matt says under his breath causing a light shade of pink to appear on my cheeks.

Matt wraps his arms around my torso and unclips my bra letting my breasts fall and the straps of my bra fall off my arms. He lightly pushes me back so I'm sitting on our shared bed as he places a deep and passionate kiss on my lips.

I yearn for more of his lips but he pulls away from me and starts trailing light kisses down my jaw and to my neck and sucking harshly on my neck so we have matching marks on my neck and soft moans escaping my lips.

“Since you had to go and get us caught,” he starts before sucking harsher in my neck in a pattern this time. “Everyone's gonna know who you belong to now” he pulls away walking back a couple of steps to admire the marks he left on my neck.

‘M’

His initial was spelled out on my neck.

“And you're not gonna cover that up. Got it?” he spits walking towards me and wrapping his hand around my neck.

“Yes, Matt” I whisper out

“Good fucking girl” he removes his hand from my neck and pushes me down so my back is now on the bed flat.

He lowers his body down, basically on his knees, and he leaves kisses down my stomach before kissing over my clothed pussy and a soft whimper comes out of my lips.

Using his teeth he guides my underwear off my legs and throws them on the floor with a smirk plastered on his face.

His face between my legs was always a sight for sore eyes, never failed to turn me on the way his blue eyes always stared at me through his eyelashes. He places small kisses around my thighs eventually making his way down to my dripping pussy and placing kisses everywhere around it but where I need him the most.

“Matt, please” I plead.

“What are you begging for? Use that filthy mouth of yours and tell me what you want” he says harshly.

“I need your mouth, please” i whine.

He smirks and uses his tongue to move up and down my folds collecting my juices he lets out a groan as the taste of my pussy touches his tongue. His lips attach to my clit sucking harshly on it.

“FUCK MATT” My back arches and my eyes roll back basically seeing my brain.

His tongue explores every inch of me as he keeps a steady gaze on me and how my body reacts to his mouth. His fingers trail into my begging hole that's clenched around the air begging to be fulfilled curling his slim fingers upward reaching a spot I could never reach by myself.

“MATT” I scream out as My thighs close his head in.

“Legs stay open” he mutters through my pussy.

His fingers now moving at a pace that's driving me absolutely insane, his muted moans against my pussy is only turning me on more.

“close” i breathe out trying not to strain my voice.

“hold it,” he says muttering against me as his nose flicks my clit digging his face deeper into my pussy. He was almost moaning as much as I was, typically he didn't even care if he cums, he gets off at watching me come unglued from his mouth or fingers.

“Please” I repeat pleading with matt.

“No, you're gonna hold it and you're gonna show me how much of a good girl you can be” he lifts his head continuing his pace with his fingers.

His gaze never left me, the way my back arched off the bed and my eyes rolled back just at his fingers was always so amusing to him.

“You always look so beautiful wrapped around my fingers,” he says smirking down at me and taking his lower lip between his teeth as he continues to arch his fingers inside me.

“PL-PLEA- CUM” i mutter unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Go ahead baby, let it all out” he coos in my ear in a low raspy voice.

The knot in my stomach snaps, and my orgasm hits me like a bus, my legs shake as my cum drips down into his fingers. he removes his fingers licking off my cum from them.

“Face down ass up, I ain't done with you” he says sternly.

I slowly nod turning around and holding myself up by my elbows taunting my ass around in the air. Matt smirks to himself removes his hoodie, and quickly removes his boxers and pants throwing all his clothes somewhere in the room.

I feel the bed dip down from the weight of his knees behind me. He reaches his arm around to my mouth places his hand below my mouth.

“Spit” he says harshly.

I obey spitting in his hand as he uses my spit to rub around the tip of his cock moving his hand up and down to coat his cock.

Matt aligns himself with my entrance and immediately bottoms out letting a loud groan escape his lips as my hips jerk backward and a loud whine leaks from my lips.

“You think you're so fucking innocent huh? Leaving those fucking hickeys on my neck” he spits thrusting harshly into me gripping onto my hair and pushing my head far into the mattress.

“I-im SO-SORRY” I scream into the mattress.

“Oh, you're sorry? If you were sorry you wouldn't be creaming all over my fucking. dick.” he says thirsting harder to annunciate his last two words as his head hangs low to look down at the white rim that's formed around the base of his cock.

“FUCKK” I whine out with tears starting to form in my eyes from the overstimulation. “CANT- CANT-TAKE” I muffle out as his hand pushes my head farther in the bed.

“You wanted this” he grunts “You take it” his hand travels down my body and starts to toy with my sensitive clit.

“OH BABY-” i scream out as my cervix begins to twitch around his cock signaling how close I was.

“Oh you think you're gonna cum soon?” he taunts rubbing faster on my clit as his thrusts begin getting sloppier.

“Pl-pl-please” I whisper yell to him.

“You're so fucking pathetic” he groans out using both hands and pressing my waist down the bed and rolling his hips into me getting deeper and kissing my cervix with his cock.

My legs began to shake and tremble “CLOSE” i choke out. his grip on my waist loosens up as he leans down and kisses my back.

“let it go, baby, let it all out” With that, the knot in my stomach breaks and I squirt all over the bed leaving a wet mess beneath me. “God damn baby you're so fucking sexy” he leaves small kisses on my neck as his thrusts got even sloppier.

“Oh fuck” he buries his head in my neck and groans as his cum begins to shoot out of him filling my hole of his cum.

He softly pulls out of me rolling me over now laying on my back and gives me a soft peck on the lips.

“Let me clean you up, yeah?” he smiles down at me and I shoot him a small smile back.

He throws on the same pair of sweatpants from earlier and walks softly and carefully to the bathroom wetting a small rag and bringing it back into the room.

“You did amazing, Y/N” he smiles up at me as he carefully runs the warm wash rag down my legs and anywhere else that was covered in cum.

“I am sorry about getting us caught, I know that we didn't want to go public just yet” I softly whisper as he makes his way next to me bringing me into his arms and placing a kiss down on my head.

“Hey, don't worry about it. We'll figure it out in the morning. But for now, just get some sleep," he says, running his fingers through my hair and occasionally kissing my head. We eventually drifted asleep, intertwined with each other.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N PT 2 HI LOVES!! IDK how to feel ab this one but i hope you guys enjoyed it! I hope you're doing amazing!! And have an amazing day/night/evening!!

Xoxo

Gabs 💋

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo

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iuchamjohta · 19 days

Text

Leave these woman alone ft Yuna

1400 words

Notes: Hi anon thanks for your request, since it’s sent through the request box 😊 here’s a story dedicated for you. Also I will do Yuna justice with a better fic eventually don’t worry! (Yes this is a mix of shade and partial smut i guess) Did'nt proof read this thing cause it aint worth my time. For those who wants to read for the smut you can ignore the first two and last two paragraphs they arent for u but specially for my dear requester XD

First person POV of anon:

My name is Anon. I work a standard 9-5 job and have been doing so for 30 years. I’m a single and have never dated. Everyday I get scolded by my boss but I turn a deaf ear to it , just going through the motion of my routine life. Things however get exciting once I get home. I can induldge in my deepst darkest fantasies.

You see while on the surface, I'm a white knight in shiny armor, beneath that, I'm a self-righteous hypocritical man, living a double life. I've got an entire collection dedicated to Yuna, my ultimate bias, stashed away in a folder on my laptop, hidden deep within a secret folder, safely encrypted with a password only I know. It's my little haven, my sanctuary—a place where I can indulge in my wildest fantasies, free from judgment. I mean, who doesn't have their celebrity crushes, right? But for me, it's more than just a crush. Yuna is my fantasy. She's the one who makes me question my self-control.

The room is dimly lit, perfect for what I have in mind. I pull up a recent fancam from her solo performance.. There she is, in a low-rise jeans that showcased her hourglass figure, strutting across the stage with sheer confidence. The camera zeroes in on her for a solo performance, the lucky bastards in the audience probably have no idea how fucking lucky they are. Her eyes glint with confidence, as if seducing me and sending a wave of anticipation through my body. I bite my lip, feeling my dick twitch in anticipation. It's one of those days when I crave a release, a day dedicated to worshipping her perfect body.

Yuna is everything I want and more. Her magnetic aura draws me closer to the screen as she seductively sways to the music. Every curve of her body is sculpted by the gods themselves. I zoom in, wanting to explore every inch of her, starting from her face. Her huge eyes, her full lips that always look succulent, begging for me to take them. Her skin, pale in complextion that glows under the stage lights. I'd kill to know what she smells like, if she tastes as sweet as she looks. Her long legs they begged to be worshipped.

Her hair, cascading in soft waves, frames her face, occasionally whipping her forehead as she moves, making my fingers itch to run through it, to feel its silkiness between my fingertips. Her crop top reveals just the right amount of skin and her incredibly sexy midriff. They hug her chest tightly. I imagine pinching those rosy nipples, already knowing from countless fantasies that they'd harden instantly. The thought sends a jolt of lust straight to my cock.

The camera follows her every move, and she's teasing the fans mercilessly. She bends down, the low-rise jean - hugging every inch of her toned thighs and plump ass, highlighting the perfect hour glass figure. God, her ass! It's a work of art, rounded and firm, a sight that has me gripping my cock, stroking slowly as I imagine sinking my face into that soft flesh. The way she reveals her cleavage, The way her muscles flex under those jeans makes my mouth go dry. She knows what she's doing, the little tease. Each flick of her hips is a silent invitation to something forbidden.

As the song progresses, so does my hand on my shaft. I can't stop picturing her riding me, those long, toned legs wrapped around my waist. Her abs clench and relax with each provocative move, the sight alone nearly pushing me over the edge. The sweat glistening on her skin, the way it would feel slick under my palms as I hold her hips, grinding into me, fuck, it consumes me. I want to be the reason for her sweat, for her moans.

The performance builds up, and so does my pace. My breathing quickens, mirroring her heavy pants as if we're in sync. I can imagine the lust matching my own as she moves her hair behind her back, giving me a perfect view of her slender neck and the pulse point that makes my mouth water. A collarbone looks so defined and my hands would look so fucking perfect there, pushing her down unto my cock. My cock twitches, the thought of owning this goddess in the bedroom flooding my mind. I want to see her—no, I need to see her submissive side, her begging for more, on her knees, her pretty eyes pleading for me to take control.

I can't resist the urge anymore. I pause the video at the part where she's bending forward offering an eyeful of her cleavage and a hint of her flat stomach. The image fills the screen, letting me examine every detail. From her perfect breast that I imagine running my tongue all over, to her navel, a shallow indent, a tempting destination for my tongue. I'd work my way downward, hearing her whimpers as I trace patterns on her sensitive skin, marking her with love bites along the way until I reach her wet core. With my other hand, I reach for the lube, needing more sensation. I coat my fingers and continue imagining my tongue's path, heading south past her navel to the place she craves attention. I'd tease her, running my fingers through her wetness, finding her clit, driving her wild. And when she's close, I'd sink two fingers into her, feeling her heat, her tightness, while I suck on that perfect neck, leaving my mark. Her moans would fill the room, echoing off the walls, telling me she's mine.

But, Yuna she's a master at denying satisfaction. The clip cuts just as I can see her biting her lip, probably holding back a moan. That's when my stroking gets wilder. I jerk off fiercely, imagining her on all fours, that ass in the air, begging for my cock. In my mind, I'd stand behind her, taking in the view before delivering hard thrusts, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. She loves rough, I know that much. I want to spank that ass, watch it jiggle with each impact, watch her pussy squeeze my dick, milking me.

"Fuck, Yuna," I groan, my vision blurring as pleasure spikes. I see her looking over her shoulder, those eyes half-lidded, knowing she's craving it harder. In my fantasy, I'd tug her hair, making her submit, taking her like an animal. I increase the pace, my balls tightening, then I would reach my peak, exploding with sensation. I come violently, coating my hand and the screen, wishing it was her that I coated instead.

Panting, I lean back, my heart hammering in my chest as I relish the aftermath. The image of her winking at the camera as she says her farewells plays in my head, and I know I'll be back for more—she's my addiction. Cleaning up, a satisfied smile on my face, I wonder if she has any idea the effect she has on me, if she knows she just gave me the best fucking handjob ever. Little does she know, this 'nobody' behind the screen is more than willing to show her how good it could be in reality.

Maybe one day, she won't just be a fantasy, but until then, I'll keep worshipping her on my screen.

Then with this guilty pleasure, I find the need to claim her as mine and "protect" her. Going unto forums, I tell myself I have to put back on my knight in shiny armour image! Telling everyone else to leave all these woman alone especially Yuna.

To me pornography is okay, I have fapped to many of it, nor do I see the need to email all these pornographic companies on what they are doing though more damaging is wrong. Other sexual fantasies are okay, but when it comes to others fantasising about my idols, I have to be defensive since they are my life even though I would never reach them. This is me, a double standard hypocritical white knight, a nameless nobody in my life. Nonetheless, this secret is safe with me, and as long as I live, I shall continue to remain self-righteous on the outside while indulging in my secret fantasies.

Thanks for your request once again! Yes me being an internet troll, anyways not the best smut I have written I apologise. Okay fuck now I actually need to do justice by releasing a proper Yuna fic . Please send ideas for req on Yuna guys a one time offer that the best idea gets it’s fic written on her.

#kpop smut #itzy smut #yuna smut #shin yuna #m reader #female idol smut #female idol x reader #girl group smut

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