#why did the cast lie to us like that??

[anantaru]

EX HUSBAND NEUVILLETTE

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — ex! husband neuvillette headcanons

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, fluff, crack lmao, he‘s trying his best, very rough like he’s feral!!!!, fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, but the sweetest man, a little possessive without him realising

ex! husband neuvillette, who— as was wildly anticipated, would not instantly vanish from your life nor leave you stranded alone beside the mental toll that a separation would leave on the both of you— even after the grief-stricken divorce was at last, ultimately finalized and carried out.

ex! husband neuvillette who thought that— with the fullness of his devastated heart, that in his own very eyes, it was beyond a doubt commonplace to aid and assist his ex-wife in the so called "aftermath" of your troubling divorce, whilst more urgently, be in no qualms that you're being cared for with everything and anything you could possible need.

ex! husband neuvillette, who of course, would double check with you to not suddenly overstep any boundaries or take up space that you might need— yet bare in mind, if you were to ask him for help on any matter really, he'd immediately leave everything behind to fulfill your wishes first, considering he is used to it, but the man will tend to forget about his own personal needs which he needed so he could function properly— yet now with you out of the picture, walking back to his current reality was becoming a taxing task.

ex! husband neuvillette, who, aside from his own separate challenges and demands, would never dare to cast aside his important work of practically running the nation of hydro. much obliged, he was a prestigious, praiseworthy man, thus the reason for him to pull more effort and sleepless nights into his occupation.

ex! husband neuvillette who couldn't believe that you both were divorced in the first place because in all seriousness, there wasn't much changing and aside from a couple instances, for example that he wasn't seeing you frequently, it felt the same way to him.

ex! husband neuvillette who, after a couple weeks into your divorce, will suddenly become a little more distant, not responding to letters you would occasionally send to make sure he was okay— with the immediate turbulent, overcast weather in fontaine adding to the closing eeriness of the entire situation. it's constant, clouded and gray, a mirage of cold rain and an incoming storm, and the people of fontaine will begin to question what had happened or if it was simply an unlucky past couple of weeks.

ex! husband neuvillette who doesn't like the idea of divorce, as might be expected he understands it, but in his own regard, he does not approve of it, but he accepts it— additionally, he wouldn't force you to stay with him, again, why he had agreed on it in the first place. the man would lie to himself if he'd say that it doesn't break his heart, the unclouded thought of wholly erasing the person he referred to as his 'wife' off his entire life was a frightening pondering.

ex! husband neuvillette wasn't willing to accept it, ever, but he did it for your sake and the small possibility of you becoming close again, in the future? perhaps, he was willing to wait endlessly, condemning himself to a lifetime in darkness, knowing full on well that his most desired dream to reconcile arguably wouldn't come true— on top of that, after careful, deep talks on how to properly navigate your divorce and being separated from now on, you have both ultimately agreed on remaining 'friends' in a sense, such was easy to state of course but you longed to make the best out of it, or at least try.

ex! husband neuvillette who will against all odds, still keep his wedding ring put on its designated place. granted, he had gotten quite accustomed to the feeling of it being wrapped around his finger and doesn't want to take it off. if you do decide to ask him about it, given that you aren't wearing yours anymore, he will plainly state that he got used to it way too much and it had grown on him, really, becoming a part of his person so ultimately taking it off would result in the same as him severing a limb off his body.

ex! husband neuvillette who still calls you his wife unintentionally, in the beginning of the first couple of weeks, it will happen almost all the time. be that as it may, he doesn't do it on purpose to somehow hurt you or make you uncomfortable, and he was aware of the fact that he needed to get accustomed to the feeling of being single again, of not being married anymore but calling you his wife just warmths his chest and hugs him from inside and out.

ex! husband neuvillette bets on it, it's like his whole day could be stacked with work on end, without a second of tranquility in sight, rain droplets covering the nation of hydro, but when he thinks about you, only you, a smile coruscates over his soft lips, increasing his heart beat, it's all so painful but he wouldn't want it any other way because nothing, and he emphasizes it deeply, nothing would be as painful as having you gone form his life.

ex! husband neuvillette who, and pay attention now, this would only happen if his strong, rational thinking skills and durable emotions towards keeping the laws of this world truthful were somewhat altered in an instance of weakness, but he would adore to throw and punish every new person you would date after him behind bars, yet not before properly dragging them to a trail that they cannot win, for him to look down on them— again, it's a small fantasy he wouldn't bring into life, he honored his noble work.

ex! husband neuvillette who knows that even day dreaming about such wrongful ideas were full of holes and malice, yet beyond it, he keeps himself restrained in not interfering in your new relationships— which he had thought must be a lot, you could say he believed that you were already out and about in the dating world, overthinking the worst out of all possibilities that could happen.

ex! husband neuvillette who will oftentimes send the melusines out to check up on you and tell him how you're doing— no, don't misunderstand, he doesn't want to know if you were dating again, he wouldn't, after all, this was your personal life and he wasn't your husband anymore. but then again, surely checking every now and then wouldn't hurt a soul, right?

ex! husband neuvillette will send you freshly picked flowers frequently, or have your favorite dish made by a professional chef. how can i forget to mention that he tends to buy a small, cute souvenir that would remind him of you and send it your way instantly. at how things were slowly progressing, the man will be quite embarrassed in facing you again, granted that you had promised to remain friends, he fears that the constant raining and pouring around fontaine would make it desperately obvious on how he was truly feeling, what can there be left anyways, nothing but the untouchable part of him, his aching soul begging for closeness.

but ex! husband neuvillette does not want to trouble you, fearing he might become overbearing in his doings, but he misses you, this time it's more raw than that, more exposed, more pure. he longes for a moment where he can see and feel you again, his mind circling through emotions and pondering, sinful dreams stitching his psyche together and calming down his heart.

ex! husband neuvillette who will be surprised, yet overly thrilled as if he was about to jump off his chair, when you ask the sweet melusines to hand him over a letter— the scent of the thin paper reminding him of your fragrance, a similar one he noticed whenever he kissed your neck. beyond question, they couldn't have told him fast enough, he finishes up the necessary work load for the day, at once forging ahead to your once shared house. you know it by now but he does not falter, he wants this to be perfect, carefully picking up a bouquet of flowers, with the flowers in questions being the very ones that have been decorating your wedding venue back in the day, oh sweet memories, he hopes he doesn't come off as crazy.

ex! husband neuvillette who tries to play it cool, it's not a big deal, but why were his hands sweating? his breathing was fast too, burgeoning, each following step towards your home, his limbs and muscles would begin to tremble, it's evident and almost aflame, but the weather has been nice again all of a sudden, for once in fontaine and he couldn't wait to see you.

ex! husband neuvillette who cannot say anything when you open the door for him, all these miles with the memories of your passionate time together pouring back into his mind. it's silly, but so real, and there was a silence, although not of an uncomfortable kind, it was overthrowing the hefty atmosphere.

and honestly, you think ex! husband neuvillette was cute when he was all overwhelmed and bereft of speech, even cuter when he’s silently walking past the door, your hands slowly wrapping around the bouquet of flowers to place them aside, on top of a wooden drawer before panning your eyes back into his grasp— which was his piercing, conquering gaze.

you could perceive the cutting tautness, how the reinforced pressure alone couldn't be torn, not with a sharp knife, no sword, no blade, because forthrightly— there wasn't anything on this planet that was able to part this emerging and crashing body chemistry.

all fairness to the situation— your captivation was off the charts, two people unable to coexist while parted, searching within your souls to understand what was happening. yet then it hit you, that maybe— heavily placed on a single maybe, that there might've been a cruel mistake in how things ended between you both;

or did they end?

because like a bullet piercing through soft flesh, it gave the impression away as if you were both moving closer to your sweet frames until you could clearly feel his warm, clothed chest pushed against your own— hopeful eyes remained locked within your gazes as you carefully slide your hands behind his neck without breaking his stares.

ex! husband neuvillette whose breathing was all fast and hasty, yet much swifter was his never ending intention to kiss you again and taste your lips in the process, he cannot stop himself anymore, but he must— for some reason, he cannot fathom that this might be reality and that you both would have a second chance in this life after all.

"kiss me." you suddenly whisper, eyes aglow with his own enlarging at the nervous utterance, subtle touches weaving together and showing your open truths.

ex! husband neuvillette feels how tense he has gotten and tries to relax— on top of that, he was reminiscing about the past and the bare memories of your writhing body splayed under his large one, his entire weight on top of you, just the whisper of his sinful imagination made his mouth water— he truly believes he was in fact dreaming right now, especially when you tell him to kiss him again.

there were no thoughts to process anymore, no focus he could grasp on to remain clearness— what was left were true, unfaltering desires and the scalding pain of waiting. that‘s when you kiss him instead, his body immediately welcoming your fervid warmth, pulling his head towards your own in a heart beat.

ex! husband neuvillette felt a heavy hardship being lifted off his shoulders the moment your lips touch his, and each one of the words he had planned to spell out to you, they form into a sting that was beating into his heart, repeatedly, the sharp stitches seeping into his veins slowly. and he refuses to cry in front of you, or expose to you that everything that had happened after your separation was covered in nothing but a silent numbness.

swallowing the lump in his throat, ex! husband neuvillette guides you to the bedroom, it was hard to decipher what was real or not, each motion of your lips rounding across his own felt like he was dreaming the most beautiful dream of them all. the whisper of cold air brushes across your bodies when he opens the door to the cold room, his own imagination going wild when he peeks at the neatly made bed, or the wooden drawer next to it, still having your wedding picture on display.

ex! husband neuvillette who takes his time in undressing you, the fear of someone taking you away from him again, even now, was still there and he wanted, no, needed to relish in this as good as possible. neuvillette wets his lips, nervous, "my love.. are you sure about this?" and he hesitated for a second— but when you tug at his own sleeves now, fondling with the expensive garment, nodding your head and expertly wrapping your digits into the thin fabric to help him out of it, he knows you wanted it as badly as he did, popping his arms back so you could pull his coat down, your mouth twisting into a subtle smile.

ex! husband neuvillette who touches you featherlight, slowly parting your legs to settle in between, and butterflies expand in your belly when you admire his beauty from up close again, his muscles twitching when you decide to lightly graze his skin with your fingertips, smoothly sliding over his chest before wrapping your arms around his neck. 

ex! husband neuvillette who could honestly cry the moment he first slides his cock into you again, kissing you again and again, more deeply, more feral and in need before licking into your mouth, leaving his large hand to wander down to the plush of your ass and push you into the mattress when he first bottoms out of you. you're so warm, wet and comfortable while you're clamping down on him. and neuvillette pistols his hips like an electric light, hoping he'd be able to hit so deep inside your warm cunt till you practically feel him stir up your guts.

and a moan slowly builds up in your throat as your tits brush against his strong chest— whilst neuvillette places a delicious, fast pace on you, the bare strength of his thrusts making the headboard bounce back and forth the wall as he nibbles on your bottom lip while fucking his cock into you, your gummy walls squelching at each well received pump.

ex! husband neuvillette who roughly palms your tits and plays with your nipples with his hips moving in a feral tempo— whilst those breathy, wet pleas of your name, the ones he whispered against your ear, evolve into gluttonous, hungry groans, whilst the thought about losing all of this made it more difficult for him to say anything at all, his throat acting as a trap for that one sentence he intended to spell out, the sound of it awaiting to break free— but the nervousness couldn't be surpassed as he takes a hold of your hand, desperately clutching on it before grinding his erection back into you, a pulse surging through the entirety of your walls.

ex! husband neuvillette who finds it mesmerizing on how you were so responsive to his every nibble and touch, his thudding cock diving between your legs while he fists your tits in his warm hand, your lips parting with cries and begs while meeting his hungry pace.

his hips, much bigger than yours, keep hitting into you, a lustful gaze on your facial expression clouding your mind as he makes you feel so unbelievably good, soaking your sheets as you kiss him, famished and hot, feeling his needy grunts exhaling through his lips as you clench down hard, gazes meeting once and for all, "i love you." you say, almost cry it out, and neuvillette wanted to be patient with you, claim your body to its full exhaustion afterwards, but not now, he cannot keep his cool this time— not anymore, not after you said those very three words he wasn't able to utter out all night.

you're truly driving him insane, and his body was pressing hotly against yours as you wiggle and writhe under him, puppy eyes watching him please you from under your lashes while you’re requiring more of his cock in you, please please, you say, your pussy clamping around his girth and milking him for good.

ex! husband neuvillette who tells you, "i love you too, i love you too.." in quick, fast paced syllables, and the burning veins in his body turn numb when you begin to cry out of joy and pleasure, hastily pushing your heels into his back to signal him to fuck you harder as he pounds away into your creamy pussy, dragging his hard erection along your sore walls and burning pleasure spots.

now— your nails simmer over his defined back, both sweetly indulging in each others company and the feeling of being one again, nothing else but solid, fast paced pleasure which was turning him on, so fucking much, his breathing puffed and winded, throwing his head back as you're doing your best to match his insane rhythm.

your pussy swallows him up like magic, your damp lashes tickling his shoulders as he buries his face against your neck to suck on the wet flesh, in accessory to the numerous amount of praises, declarations of love and filthy curses plastering your sweaty skin. or how about the swallowing screams and begs of your name that ripple through him as you moan out fervently, twitching under his towering body and arching your back.

oh, well? it's now or never your “ex” husband fears, and he decides to push his pulsing cock deep into your hole, deeper, just a little bit more, please! until you're desperately screaming into his shoulder, as far as it can fit into your little pussy, sending you over an intoxicating edge.

and ex! husband neuvillette was, at long last, back at where he should be, where he should've been all along, with you, making passionate and meaningful love to each other, because the man needed it, needed you close to him, and he cannot and will never again, paint the world without you in it.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[sukunasteeth]

Your First Time on Sukuna's Bike

You lost a bet. 

That’s ultimately how you ended up here.  

"Hey," Sukuna is calling your attention to him, sitting on his motorcycle with a spare helmet outstretched in your direction. "Put it on."

The sun was just starting to set behind him on the horizon, casting him in this warm orange flavored glow that was almost comforting. Almost. 

"'Kuna, maybe this is a bad idea." You stay where you are a few feet away, shifting from foot to foot nervously. "Maybe you should go to the meetup by yourself-"

He interrupts you with one call of your name, effectively silencing you. He raises a brow.

"C'mere," He's smirking at you, seeing your unease as a challenge. Like he always did. 

"No, totally, I would. It's just-I- " You can't find the words to deny him. They don't come to you anymore. Your heart aims to please him in everything but your body is frozen in fear. Your brain scrambles to produce something- any kind of lie under his lion-like gaze. "I just remembered that Yuji asked me to do something with him-"

"Yuji's with his goth boyfriend." Sukuna rolls his eyes, quickly swapping the helmet to his other hand and leaning across the short distance between you to grasp your wrist instead. He tugs you closer to him, until your shoe is nearly touching the tire of his bike.

He's grinning up at you, with that convincing little squint to his eyes.

"Chicken shit." He accuses.

You gape at him.

"I am not afraid of your little motor bike, okay?"

"Then put the helmet on, Braveheart." He shoves said helmet into your hands and releases it before you can say no to fully grasping its weight. You fumble with it, trying not to let the piece of equipment slip to the asphalt, it felt expensive and heavy with quality, just as a lot of Sukuna's things did.

When you finally have it secured to your chest, safe and sound, you pale at the thought of the next step. 

Now, Sukuna was nothing if not a gentleman. You knew that. But, he also was constantly toeing the line of gentleman and... complete and utter vagrant menace. He would come over to your apartment after a meetup like the one the two of you were going to, with wind whipped cheeks and adrenaline clearly glimmering in his eyes. Occasionally, he would even ask you if you had a spare tarp so that he could cover his bike in case the police came around the neighborhood looking for a similar one.

Being in one of his turbo kitted cars was different. If there was an accident, it wasn't just between you, the heavy leather jacket Sukuna had bought you, and the rough merciless asphalt of the street.

You're staring down at the helmet like it's a death sentence when Sukuna calls for your eyes again, his hand coming up to caress the back of your arm with a gentle, coaxing touch. He ushers you until you're within his airspace, creating a timeless bubble where only the two of you exist. 

You’re slightly guilty when you look up at him. You hated questioning Sukuna, especially when it came to something like your safety, which he would never put at risk, but you can't help the nerves curdling in your stomach.

His gaze melts into something similar to sympathy, still slightly amused with you. 

"Why're you scared?” He wants to know. He knows just which soft and low tone of voice to use on you- to make every secret you have come rushing to the surface, desperate to please him just like the rest of you was. 

"Scared? Of a stick with two wheels that can go in between cars that weigh literal tons while riding at a speed of 120 miles per hour? No. No, why would I be scared?"

"120 miles per hour?" He repeats, cocking a brow at you. "And put my little chicken shit in danger? Are you insane?"

You bite your lip. 

“Can we go slow?” 

Sukuna merely laughs, turning back towards his bike and turning the key to kick start the ignition. The time for conversation was clearly over. 

“Put it on.” ~

Sukuna actually does go at a reasonable speed for the majority of the time. You get used to the feeling of the wind gliding over every inch of you, hissing so loudly in your ears that all other sounds become moot. It’s almost like white noise. 

Sukuna’s body is warm and sturdy against your front, and you press more of yourself than needed into him, just to be closer. Occasionally he’ll reach down and squeeze your thigh or point something out for you to look at, but otherwise he lets you take in the scenery at an easy pace. 

After an hour of riding, you may very well say it was comforting on the bike. 

At least, until you get to a long stretch of highway, that is. Empty and wide as it is long. A highway to some rural part of the city you had never been to before. 

Sukuna taps your knee, and then reaches up and tightens your hold on his waist. It was a signal. 

“Wait-” Even if Sukuna could hear you past the helmets, the unrelenting wind, and the roar of the motorcycle beneath you, he didn’t give you a chance to say much. 

The bike climbs speed as your heartbeat climbs in speed and if it weren’t for the helmet, it would be impossible to breathe easy with the wind whisking around you in such a flurry. Your thighs press into Sukuna’s, and you peek over his shoulder at the speedometer to watch it hit 95. It felt so much faster to you. It felt like you were flying. 

You can’t help the giggles that escape you as exhilaration plucks them out of you. 

Fear had long since revealed itself as excitement to you, and Sukuna could tell in the way you would kick your feet as he revved the engine that you were on the same page now. 

By the time the two of you make it to the meetup, you’re buzzing like a ball of electricity. Sukuna parks the bike, kicks the stand out, and immediately turns around to unclasp your helmet first. 

You tear it off of you, barely containing yourself long enough for him to remove his own before you're winding your arms around his neck. Giggles are still leaking out of you and into his ear, which is searing cold beneath your lips. 

“I told you you’d like it.” He chuckles, leaning backwards into you and forcing you to be the one to keep the both of you upright. You use your free hand to pull on his hood, forcing him back even further until you can press a kiss to his prideful smile.  

“That was fun.” You whisper.

“Good.” He whispers back, grabbing his keys from the ignition without moving his head from your grasp. “You’re drivin’ us home.” 

[chatsukimi]

ｓｃａｒｓ： "ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜱᴀʏ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ʟɪꜰᴇ"

Sukuna x deceased reader. pt 1.

Sukuna whose flames are unleashed solely on special occasions. One day, when Yuji wonders aloud why he has two, he tells the brat to "shut up and get yourself your first technique before asking for seconds." Yuji winces, shutting up nevertheless.

Sukuna who quietens next to the bonfire on New Years. The open conflagration bursts and wanes. He peers at the sparkling flames, dancing before Yuji's worn out sneakers. He wills the boy to let him switch places- one minute, just as he had promised when Sukuna restored his heart. Now the Devil will restore his own.

Sukuna who appears, silent, next to a mossy pillar in the middle of a redwood forest; a trick of Cursed Technique, long lost. He only has a minute: prepare the incense, plant the prayers, spare one longing gaze at your statue. He clenches his teeth as he hears Yuji banging on inside his mind, but it's the one chance he has of being with you, alone.

Sukuna who had always been concentrated compared to the other Special Grade sorcerers, capable of miraculous devotion. Suffice to say, he likes it best when there aren't passerby's, mistaking zeal for shortcoming.

He sinks to the ground, bowing his head, pressing his palms together, before wisps of flame start drifting from between them, touching every candle and incense to life. Wisteria scents float over him.

In this forgotten corner of the world, all who remember you are the monks who tend this shrine, and the strongest of them all.

When Yuji wakes up, on the stone floor of the Fujiwara Clan's tombs, sputtering at the cold. Shocked, later on, by the violent burn in the middle of his chest he had never seen before.

"Curious..." Gojo murmurs, inspecting the wound. "Yuji, you're growing more and more like him."

This used to be his scar.

Sukuna who doesn't come out for days when Gojo informs Yuji about the Fujiwara Clan's destruction. What was he doing at the shrine? Why did he kill them all, the children, the soldiers, the wives?

Everyone assumes Sukuna's just tired of Yuji's moral clamouring. No one suspects he is drowning in the shadows of his domain, his head collapsed back onto the animal skulls, exhales spilling out in long drawn out phrases, in the nightmare he created.

Sukuna who used to hate fire because it quashed the dark, until he saw you manoeuvre flames and arrows as though they were a second skin. He was the Disgraced One, but you- you were kind.

Sukuna who was killed by you, when he killed your clan. He was promised your technique when he said he would protect you. He made a vow. He had to keep it.

So, when it came time, he had simply let you press your burning hand upon his chest and feel him recline in agony. He knew it would be the last time you touch him. He wanted to feel it burn.

"Sukuna, you told me you would try to get better. You told me you didn't care how the others saw you, about us- how could you lie to me?"

He never wanted to lie to you, of all souls. If it makes you feel better, he still thinks of you when he uses your flames, only on special occasions. Your strength, your grace, and the look you wore as you killed him, they all come wobbling, like moth to a flame. Like a lowly cast-away boy on his way, in rage, to destruction.

Sukuna who thinks to himself, "you have given your technique to me, but what if I had asked for your soul with mine forever?", looking for your voice in the flames.

It only cracks and cackles.

It is Yuji who first notices you on the street.

"Hey! Hey!"

You turn around. A boy with pink hair is jogging towards you. He waves.

"Oh. Hi, do I know you?"

"Don't think so. You just look really alike to someone I saw a while ago at a shrine."

You can't pinpoint what but the slit on his face... you can't tear your eyes from it. You shake your head. What is wrong with you today?

"I don't go to shrines," you say. Your fingers itch to reach out to graze his cheek. "... that's a cool scar you've got there. Both sides of your face. They say scars are where you were killed"

"Oh I've got many scars," he mutters sheepishly. "A big one on my chest, s'kinda lame though, 'cause I don't remember how I got it."

You laugh. "Me too." You drag your T-shirt neckline down just an inch, pointing at it with your thumb. "I was born with mine."

A scar.

A burn.

A flaming arrow.

Right above your heart.

[harrysonlylover]

Instincts*

Summary: Harry’s primal instincts catch up with him.

Trope: Husbandrry AU

Warnings: Breed!ng kink, a hunt of corruption kink, dirty talk, a smudge of degradation, mentions of pregnancy and body changes.

WC:1.4k

Harry lost his sanity in the best way possible.

His mind couldn’t put an effort into focusing on anything except his one and only goal.

Breeding his wife.

It felt like his only purpose in life for a while now. His thoughts were composed of nothing but her ovulation days and how many loads he needed to give her.

Though—she was a bit greedy today.

Her body rested on some blankets and pillows laid out on the ground, with a lit chimney nearby. He towered over her, body glistening with sweat as the fire casted light on his skin.

His tattoos were on full display, curls hanging loosely on his forehead with his cock erect against his stomach, and dripping on her pussy.

She let out small whines as his thumb teased her swollen clit. He coaxed two orgasms out of her with his mouth, something that was set in stone in their sex life.

But—his future baby momma was ovulating, and after giving her two orgasms, it was time to fill her up.

“Look at you darling, legs open and spread. Are you that excited for Daddy’s cum?” He spat on her pussy, allowing it to mix with his dripping pre cum that was torturing her. He didn’t give her his cum yet—he’s just teasing her by allowing a small amount of it to fall on her pulsing pussy.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded immediately, drooling at the thought of getting knocked up.

Everything felt warm and lovely. Their naked bodies being near the fire as he prepared her to receive his load did something to her brain chemistry. Besides, the sight of her husband—acting so primal had her spreading her legs as wide as possible.

“Hmm, gonna be a good mama?” He leaned down, pressing a torturous peck to her glistening pulsating pussy. His tongue licked up the pre cum that dripped down, as he enjoyed the smell of her ovulating pussy that ignited something in him.

“Fill me up, please.” The plea in her voice was rushed. She loved having sex with him, that was a solid fact. But, she was weak for his naked body and thick cock.

His mannerisms and actions changed after wanting a baby. Every single thing was ten times more attractive. Things as simple as his pumped biceps and chiseled abs—or his veiny hand that choked her throat a billion times before.

“Look at you, so pathetic. Begging for my cum, but you can’t help it, can you? You need me to breed you.” He felt lucky for not passing out at the erotic sight in front of him. His wife. His lover, so bare for him with her legs spread, giving him her pussy to use and breed.

Always so good for him.

He grabbed his cock and tapped it at her clit. She tried to jerk her hips, needing some friction, but he was quick to slap her pussy.

“Behave.” He ordered her. He had to breed her properly so he was very adamant on doing everything perfectly.

He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as his cock sank into her warm walls. It was an irreplaceable feeling—especially because he knew he would be impregnating her.

She let out a loud whine, as her fingers gripped the pillows next to her. Her facial expressions displayed relief and ecstasy just like he expected.

“That was exactly what this pussy needed, eh? Felt relieved when I stuffed you.” He grinned, looking down at her body as she rolled her eyes when he went deeper.

Her warm wet walls were driving him insane. Just the idea of having her take his cock on her ovulation day made him dizzy.

He fastened his pace gradually, his hips moving perfectly to hit her favorite spot. Her moans were music to his ears. There was something so lustful in having her lie down and take his cock and cum.

He was ready to keep her up all night to make sure she got stuffed. Besides, his stamina and sex drive were unmatched—which is why she sometimes asked him to use her body and manhandle it as he wished.

“God look at that baby. My cock is so deep inside you.” He pressed his ring-clad hand on her stomach. “See, that means my cum will be everywhere.”

His thrusts were now rough, hitting her cervix and making her breasts jiggle. The sound of wetness has never been this loud, not to mention their skin slapping.

The lit fire added to the ambiance, making them feel extra warm and hot.

“You hear that? That’s my cock breeding this pussy.” He smirked at her state—falling apart at the feeling of his thick cock fucking her warm pussy.

“M—more.” She smiled as if she was stuck in a haze.

“Oh, baby, such a cockslut. Used to be my shy virgin girl and now you’re begging me for a baby.” He tsked, feeling his ego inflate at the thought of her progress.

He corrupted his baby, but he wasn’t to blame. His cock was just too good.

He grunted upon looking down to where they were connected. His cock was slick with precum and her wetness, sliding in and out of her hole as she whined and whimpered.

“That’s right. Letting your husband use your hole for breeding.” He pulled away, watching her pussy clench around nothing upon feeling empty, before thrusting back harshly.

Her face was to die for. So pretty just for him. He loves watching her eyes roll back or seeing her sweet smile, knowing that he’s fucking her hard and fast.

She opened her mouth wide open, an indication of wanting him to spit inside. He immediately leaned in, grabbing her face roughly before spitting in her mouth.

“Shit. Dirtiest cockslut.” He sealed their lips together as he continued his brutal thrusts.

Sweat covered their bodies, and everything felt heated. The fire, their lower bodies—along with their skin-on-skin contact and intense kisses.

“You’ll look so beautiful with your bump and full breasts.” He panted, trying not to cum on spot at the idea.

“Yes—please.” A few tears slipped from her eyes at the intensity of their sex.

His pounding was ruthless. The way his hips drove into her could only stem from good stamina. As if he trained himself to last for her.

“Whose going to make you a mama?” He slowed down his thrusts, laying his forehead against hers.

“You.” She groaned, scratching his back.

“Whose cock is breeding you?”

“Yours.”

“Damn right.” He pulled his body away and wrapped his hand around her throat.

When she’s too gone for him, she wouldn’t tell him that she’s cumming. But he knows her body—so when she began clenching more and mumbled things under her breath, he knew.

“I know baby, let go for me. Let me give it to you.” She loved deep strokes at the end, so he switched to that.

She came on his cock without a warning. Her entire body shook under him as she moaned his name out loud, and scratched his back.

Her pussy gripped him tightly, pulsating around him and it was so fucking warm. He couldn’t hold it and followed her orgasm by filling her up.

It felt otherworldly, releasing in her like his life depended on it—making sure that he was so deep inside that it caught.

“That’s it, let your womb have it.” The feeling of his hot cum filling her up was euphoric and intense. He prepped her face with kisses, mumbling love confessions, telling her what a perfect wife she was as she stilled his hips inside of her.

“No leaking until I pull out, m’kay?” She can still feel his cock twitching inside her as his cum flowed.

She was too lost in her thoughts, dreaming of her swollen belly and Harry sucking on her lactating tits—

“Baby?” Once he grabbed her chin, she was pulled out of her daydream.

“Are you my good breeding whore?”

She nodded immediately like it was common knowledge.

“Then clench your pussy for Daddy and hold it. No leaking please.” He whispered, before moving her hair away and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

He continued to whisper dirty things in her ear—how this was just the first load and that she deserved way more for being his good girl.

He promised her to stay up till dawn, and frankly?

She couldn’t wait. ——————————————————

Kindly reblog if you liked it!

Taglist: @hotnhardrrry @babegoals @mattieshattuck1 @harrrrystylesslut @virgopr1ncess

[lustlovehart]

Prologue Chapter, Beginnings

A/n: Non of the main cast are in this piece, this is just the prologue before the real writing starts buuut they are mentioned if that counts?

Pairing: Monster!Twst x Reader, Ft. Rollo Flamme & Crowley (Voice only).

Summary: Getting rid of things that go bump in the night has always been your job, yet, when the time comes to finally kill them, you can’t bring yourself to do it. Such mistakes, will return their grievances in full, and you’re now made to pay the price of letting monsters continue to live their wretched lives.

Warnings: Bruising, and like maybeeee hints of posseviness?? That’s it though.

Hands, dozens, are maybe more? So many words are being whispered into your ear as each finger practically possesses your body with a desperation akin to hunger.

A snake wraps around your arm, a gargoyle looks down at you, and heat encased your body until it practically swallows you, yet it feels like you're drowning at the same time when sand pours on you. You don’t know what any of it is signaling to you, you’re not even sure if you wish to understand.

“Off with their head!” “Let the tall grass swallow you.” “The deep isn’t so scary when you know what’s in it.” “Wishes are deceiving.” “Reach your full potential here” “… These joints, I can’t stop.” “Is it so bad to sleep in this castle with us?”

These voices sound scarily familiar. Yet, you don’t recall any of their voices despite feeling like you know them on some basis. You don’t move, even when one hand intertwines with your own as if you were a prize to be won, a want or need they must have.

A feint mantra of your name reaches out to you in your dream, a savior from this purgatory. But… there’s something wrong, their attempt to save you, is shrouded in danger. Even when their hand reaches to break you out, the under lying feeling of dread spreads through your body.

Whoever is saving you, is hiding something from you—

“[Name].” Your figure is quick to jump awake, your eyes immediately going blind from the morning sun shining through your windows. When you turn, you’re immediately met with Rollo at your bedside, a cup of tea and warm food in his palm. “Did you plan to sleep in?” It’s typical for him to invite himself into your home, it’s not like you’re opposed anyhow, he feeds you for free, and even cleans your house. When you told him why you don’t feel worry when he enters your abode, he compared you to a wild raccoon. “With your job, you should be more… precise…” his eyes had trailed down from your face to your arm.

His hand slowly gravitates towards you, ringed finger slowly tracing above your skin before grabbing onto you. If you were fully awake, you would’ve questioned why such a small action… was so sensual.

Alas, you’re still tired.

“Pray tell,” lifting the appendage into view, he reveals what it was that caught his attention, “How did you get… These?” Dark bruises have flourished into your skin. “I hope you didn’t lie about going to sleep early.”

“Wha…? I didn’t, I swear. I don’t know what these are…” he eyes you with suspicion before deciding against interrogation. Though that’s always the case, he has a habit of letting go of whatever you say or do with only a slap on the wrist.

“Well, I hope, it doesn’t matter. You’re going to have a very eventful couple of months, Crowley is sending us off for work again,” he takes a seat next to your bedside, patting your lap down to flatten your blanket before setting a tray down with your breakfast. “He says you’re going to those places. ” Before you even have the chance to drink, you’re already putting down the tea, looking back at him in utter confusion.

“… Hah?”

If he’s being truthful, which, he always is, unfortunately, those areas are notorious amongst people of your occupation, said to have the most violent of fiends.

And… Crowley is sending… you??

“I argued with him not to let you go. Jack was very adamant about not letting that happen either. In fact… He seemed more determined than me. Which is a cause for concern.”

“That is concerning… I only have room for one overbearing partner.” His face goes sour at your poorly placed joke, like some miscreant he’s met on the street, rather than one of the few people he doesn’t mind talking to. His expression quickly softens once more when he remembers who it is that said the joke, you “Sorry…”

“The point is, You’re going there, alone.” He emphasizes the word heavily, as if he really needed to remind you just how dire your situation is.

Alone. The words echo through your room like an unspoken curse, condemned to feed your suffrage. If you’re going to be alone, there’s no doubt you’ll go mad from solitude, void of communication for months.

In your state of conflict, a sharp pang is felt in your neck, as if a blade had gone through your skin and cut off all feeling from your body. A sense of foreboding makes your worry only increase.

“Eat now before you leave.” The feeling is gone as quickly as it came. You look back to Rollo, you wonder why Rollo goes out of his way to do what he does for you. He’s a nice distraction from the dreams that cling to your consciousness.

So is Jack… he's kind to you too.

He was stationed in Sunset Savana if you’re correct. Maybe you’ll see him again when you travel to the second location…

You’re pulled out of your trance when the warm feeling of tea dripping down the corner of your mouth is felt, Rollo, being the culprit as he forces you to drink the beverage. “I said eat now.”

You would’ve pinched him if it weren’t for how tired you were, all is forgiven when he wipes the drink from your jaw with that prized handkerchief of his.

The rocky terrain of the floor annoys you to no end, with each step you take a small pebble flies off somewhere to the side. Considering Crowley instructed you to be stealthy, you probably shouldn’t be flinging things around. You don’t care though, you keep doing it the thought of Crowley might’ve increased how much force you put into your kicks.

“Rules must be followed, I don’t appreciate those who don’t obey.”

A chill goes down your spine. Those words are so familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve heard them before…

Before you can keep dwelling on the disembodied memory, you’re suddenly struck by the unfortunate reminder of Crowley, and 7 high-class missions.

7 missions he’s barely compensating you for.

“Greedy bird…” Honestly, you only accept the transfer under Crowley because of Crewel. Your former boss may have been strict, but at least he paid you well and made you somewhat okay with your job. The thought makes you reminisce of simpler times before the sound of a crow echoes through the sky, and a scroll drops on the path in front of you.

You recognize it, it’s a special communicator used among hunters, it’s a bit outdated, but Crowley is insistent on using it. You kneel bunching the paper in your hand, unraveling the parchment.

It’s Crowley. You toss it away. The paper comes back to your feet, freakishly bouncing on the dirt. He’s calling again, and you throw the paper away again. He won’t stop coming back.

“Leave me alone” He’s your boss, you don’t exactly treat him like one though. Knowing the lack of people in the job field, you not dying on the first week of work is rare, making you an asset he can’t just throw away, so in revenge for every act of greed he commits, you return him the attitude of a snarky employee.

Along with that, you’re still spiteful that he made you do this alone rather than with someone like Rollo or Jack.

“Wait! Wait! Don’t hang up! After all my generosity you continue to disregard me, your own boss no less–!”

The sound of paper beginning to tear immediately sets the sheet to panic mode, aggressively shaking to avoid being ripped to shreds.

“Stop, Stop! I have something to tell you about your job, so don’t you dare, little one!” Chances are, he can sense your disappointment on the other side of the line, the both of you simultaneously sighing before he continues the rest of his talk. “Those seven locations, you don’t have to kill them, running them out of the area is all you’re required to do” You pause for a moment, moving off your intended path into a forest. Your connection gets a little choppy, but if it means you don’t have to listen to him anymore, it might be worth it.

“Run them out only? Are you sure that’s all I have to do, don’t we usually kill them?”

“Yes typically but, it seems our dear commissioners only asked to be rid of them, now why would we hunt them when we’re not being paid? That would just be a waste of time.” Your side is completely silent after his statement, concerned hellos beginning to leave Crowley's side of the paper.

“… So you’re stingy.”

“Not stingy! But, we are a business.” You leave him at that, not wanting to draw out an already lengthy conversation. “So, are you ready for your next assignment, little birdie?”

“Unlike you, I’m not cheap so,” snickers are heard from your boss, instead of a retort to such a blow, all he says is a smug “oh?” before the rest of your words spill. “I’ll really get rid of them. For the people.”

You had intended to waste time before heading to your first job, but luck isn’t on your side, as it turns out your off-course path was an accidental shortcut.

Crowley isn’t talking anymore, you must’ve lost connection. You quickly tear the paper in sweet relief… that’s short-lived. Your eyes are magnetized to the sign in front of the eroded building.

“Heartslaybul Hospital” a tinier sign in the corner with sloppy handwriting, which you can only assume to be from a child reads, “For wonderful and rule-abiding patients only!”

You take one glance back at where you came from, your last chance to truly walk away, before heading inside.

When you look back at it after finishing all 7 locations, you truly should’ve just run them out. For once, you wish you had listened to Crowley, maybe doing that, or maybe even sacrificing your pride would’ve worked, turning around and leaving the hospital might’ve been the optimal solution.

It would’ve saved you from your current predicament.

Trapped in a room filled with monstrosities that can no longer bear to let you go.

A/n: Heartslaybul chapter (hopefully) coming very soon *Insert emoji deviously rubbing hands together*. Originally, this Au was meant to be specifically Yandere, but the more I wrote, the more I realized, These monster counterparts, are well, monsters, so I decided, it’s entirely up to you whether or not you want to view it as Yandere or not. With that said, they will still be possessive in some right, so let that help you determine your choice.

[theemporium]

[4.7k] the four times carlos encourages lando to confess his feelings to the youngest sainz sister and the one time where he's had enough and takes matters into his own hands.

.

New Years’ Eve, 2020 

It was a few minutes past eleven when Carlos found him hiding out on the balcony. 

There was something so overwhelming and intoxicating about New Years Eve, something that seemed to bring so many strangers together for the end of year celebration. That was the exact reason he had practically begged the Spaniard to fly out to London after the holidays, to spend the night drinking and laughing and celebrating with him to bring in the new year. 

The night had started out great. He had been surrounded by friends and friends-of-friends. He had been drinking some awful concoction Max had made that was far too sweet for his taste. He had been badly singing along to the songs blasting through the speakers and dancing—both badly and proudly—in the living room of someone's mutual friend’s house. 

But then things started to get suffocating. The buzz of the alcohol started to wash away, thoughts and reality started creeping in and, suddenly, Lando didn’t want to be stuck in the middle of a group of strangers who didn’t seem to understand he didn’t want to be touched and jousted around or hugged. 

He needed space. He needed fresh air. He just needed to be alone. 

His lungs were burning as he took deep breaths of cold, crisp air. He let it overwhelm him, let himself focus on the fact the cold was starting to seep into his bones. He let himself focus on the present moment, rather than the millions of racing thoughts in his head. He let the loneliness ground him. 

But just as quickly as that relief came, it ended.

“Why are you hiding out here for?” 

Lando’s eyes instantly snapped shut as he gripped the railing, wrapping his fingers around the cold metal before he lifted his head and turned to glance over his shoulder. The Spaniard stood by the door, the buttons of his shirts undone and his cheeks flushed from the drinks he had been downing all night. His eyes were a little glossy and dazed, but his smile remained as he made his way over to the Brit.

“I’m not hiding,” Lando answered, though the response was weak and Carlos could see right through him. 

“So standing on a balcony alone whilst everyone parties inside is a British New Years tradition I didn’t know?” Carlos mused as he leaned against the balcony, his body turned towards Lando. “Try again.”

“I just needed a breather,” Lando said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

Carlos’ brows furrowed together. “From what?”

“Just…things,” he muttered, his eyes cast down as he spoke. “I’ll be back inside in a couple of minutes. You didn’t have to come out here.”

“Of course I did, you’re my friend,” Carlos scoffed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What’s wrong?”

Lando shook his head. “Nothing is wrong—”

“Lando,” the Spaniard said his name in a softer voice, and something about it made his eyes well up a little. It was stupid. It was so stupid—and maybe the alcohol was playing a part—but he felt oddly emotional, and he didn’t like it. “Friends don’t lie.”

“I guess I’m just not in the mood to start a new year, that’s all,” he grumbled, feeling a bit like a whining child but it was the truth. There wasn’t much in the upcoming year that he was genuinely excited for, at least nothing that was coming to mind tonight. 

“Just because we aren’t teammates anymore doesn’t mean I’ll abandon you,” Carlos said, resting a hand on his shoulder until the Brit finally looked at him again. “We are friends, Lando. Nothing can change that. Not even Charles.”

“We’ll hardly see each other,” he whispered in a soft voice.

“I’ll make time,” Carlos promised, but it still didn’t seem to be enough to put the boy’s racing mind at ease. “You know the best part of us not being teammates anymore?”

Lando froze, his brows furrowing together and he almost looked offended that Carlos could find a positive in the whole situation when his chest felt tight every single time he thought about the Spaniard in the Ferrari garage instead of the room right next to his.

“What?”

And before Lando could even question the glint in his eyes, he found his eyes following Carlos’ gaze as they both glanced back into the raging party inside—or, more specifically, where you stood in the middle of the crowd, laughing and smiling and having the time of your life.

“There is nothing stopping you now.” 

Lando’s head spun back around to look at Carlos, his brows furrowed together. “Huh?”

“Lando,” he said his name like it said everything. “I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Lando let out a noise mixed between a scoff and a nervous laugh. “What? No! I—”

“Lando,” Carlos repeated, and the boy quickly pressed his lips together. “I know you didn’t want to do anything because you were scared you’d cause something but…we aren’t teammates anymore. There’s no conflict of interest. You can ask her out.”

“I don’t like your sister like that, mate,” Lando attempted to laugh off, shaking his head.

Carlos shot him a look. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

“So, you don’t care if she kisses someone else at midnight?”

And truthfully? He felt his stomach churn at the idea. He felt like he could keel over the balcony railing and empty his guts there and then at the idea of witnessing it. The boy had spent the last two years pathetically pining after you, he had time to get used to seeing you with someone else and yet, it still made him feel physically unwell. 

But as pathetic as he was, he was also a coward. Because even if it would kill a part of him to see you kiss someone else when he so desperately wished it was him, he would still rather throw himself off the balcony before he confessed his feelings for you. 

“I don’t care,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “Plus, you’re her older brother. Shouldn’t you be stopping guys from coming near her?”

Carlos sighed, shaking his head. “You’re being a muppet.”

“Yeah well, it’s not the first time you’ve said that.” 

Lando had told everyone he had drank far too much that night, but the truth was that he couldn’t stomach anything after watching you kiss some pretty blond guy when the clock struck midnight. 

.

Summer Break, 2022

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not. You’ve done this on purpose.”

“It’s just a few prawns, Lando.”

“And they are making me gag!”

“They aren’t even on your plate!” 

Lando glared at the small shellfish on Carlos’ plate with his nose scrunched up in disgust, a clear look of disdain on his face. He should have known the Spaniard would torture him in some way, shape or form when he invited him out for lunch. Lando just honestly assumed it would be Carlos teasing him in front of you, he didn’t realise fish would be involved. 

“That is disgusting,” Lando muttered with a frown.

“You are just dramatic,” Carlos scoffed. 

“Hey, give him a break,” you lightly scolded your older brother, an easy smile on your face as you pushed your pasta around your plate. “In his defence, he did look a little green when they brought it out.”

“I did not,” Lando huffed, his cheeks flaming up in embarrassment. “This is bullying. You Sainz folk are bullies.” 

You snorted.

However, Carlos only rolled his eyes in response. “It is not our fault that you have the taste palate of a five year old.”

“I should have just taken Max on his offer to play FIFA over this,” Lando muttered, letting out an exaggerated squeak when he felt the Spaniard pinch his side. “Hey! Hands to yourself!”

“I thought you liked it when us Sainz folk touch you,” Carlos retorted, a glint in his eyes that made Lando’s cheeks go redder. 

“Don’t be silly, cabrón,” you spoke up, a look in your eyes that matched your mother’s. “He’s just like that for Mama. Little Lando Norris likes older women.”

“I think you’ve mistaken me for Verstappen,” Lando countered. 

You opened your mouth, a witty reply undoubtedly on the tip of your tongue and something in his chest buzzed in excitement to hear it. He liked it when you did this. He liked the snarky back and forth, like some weird twisted foreplay. He enjoyed the thrill it gave him, the fact your attention was purely on him and his words. 

But the universe seemed to be against him as the shrill of your phone ringing interrupted whatever you were about to say, leaving you to excuse yourself as you quickly headed outside to take the call. 

“For the love of everything holy, please just tell her.” 

Lando tore his eyes away from the large glass window at the front of the restaurant where he had watched you animatedly talk to whoever was on the other side of the phone—not that he was jealous or anything—and instead focused on the older Spaniard next to him.

“Huh?”

Carlos shot him a blank look. “Lando.”

“Not this again,” he grumbled under his breath.

“Yes, this again!” Carlos argued as he leaned over to pinch the Brit’s side again, narrowly avoiding his hand being swatted away. “It’s been years!”

“I don’t like her like that,” Lando argued, watching as Carlos went to open his mouth, but he quickly continued. “And even if I did, it’s been years. I wouldn’t like her like that anymore.”

He didn’t think it was possible for Carlos to look more exasperated. 

“You bought a camera,” Carlos stated like it was the most obvious and incriminating piece of evidence against him. 

“I wanted to take up a new hobby,” Lando said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. 

“So, you choose photography?” 

“Yes.” 

“And it has nothing to do with the fact my sister offered to give you lessons and tips?” Carlos questioned with a knowing look. 

“That was just a happy coincidence,” Lando argued. 

“Mate,” Carlos sighed, heavy and exhausted, as he gestured towards the camera sat beside his plate. “You’ve literally been carrying that thing around everywhere you go in hopes it will start a conversation with her. Just ask her out.” 

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just wanted a new hobby?” Lando retorted, feeling as though his face was on fire because he was right. Carlos was always fucking right. But that wasn’t something he would ever admit, especially right now. “I was thinking of starting an insta account for my photos.”

“Really?” Carlos deadpanned.

“Mhm,” he hummed, nodding his head. 

Carlos opened his mouth, arguments and exasperated pleas ready but was quickly cut off when he noticed you barrelling over to them with a massive grin on your face. 

“I did it!”

“What?” Carlos murmured, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“I got in! They accepted my portfolio! My work is going to be in the exhibition!” You all but squealed, your cheeks beginning to hurt from how wide you were smiling but you couldn’t stop. This was everything you had been working towards in the last few months and it was finally paying off. 

“Congratulations!” Lando said, a grin just as wide as yours spread over his face as he quickly stood up from his seat, ignoring the looks Carlos was sending him as he brought you into a hug. “I told you you would get it.” 

You pulled back, your smile softening a little as you looked up at the Brit. “You always do believe in me, Norris.”

“Always,” he replied, like it was instinctive. 

For the rest of the meal, Lando promptly ignored the messages Carlos kept sending him under the table and instead let himself bask in your happiness, in your smiles, in you. 

.

Silverstone, 2023

Lando Norris felt like he was standing at the top of the world. 

There was a buzz of adrenaline and excitement coursing through his veins, and he genuinely didn’t think his heart would ever return to a normal rate ever again. Blood was roaring in his ears as he crossed over the line, as he heard the murmurs of his race engineer in his ear confirming his position, as the screams and cheers of the crowd completely enveloped him as he pulled his car behind the P2 sign. 

His body was on autopilot as he pulled himself out of the car, running towards his team and throwing himself halfway over the barrier as they cheered and slapped him on the back. Their congratulations and praises washed over him as he tried to wrap his head around it, as he tried to process the fact he had managed a podium as his home race, like he always dreamed of. 

He couldn’t stop grinning as he went through all of the post-race routines, getting weighed and finding himself in the cool down room before he headed towards the podium. He basked in the cheers as he lifted the trophy over his head, as he slammed his bottle down, as he drowned himself in champagne.

Lando Norris felt like a fucking winner, if he was being completely honest. 

He had been grinning down at his trophy, gripping onto it like it was his most prized possession (and at that moment, it genuinely may have been) that he hadn’t even seen you barrelling towards him until your arms were wrapped around him and your body hit his with a soft impact, enough to make him let out a small oomph before the familiar smell of your perfume washed over him.

“I am so proud of you!” 

Something in his stomach fluttered widely at your words as he wound his arms around you, holding you tighter against him as he sunk into your embrace. His eyes fell shut, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck and Lando believed that if he died right in that second, he would have died a happy and fulfilled man.

“Thank you,” he finally spoke when he remembered he hadn’t replied yet. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“You deserve it, especially after how this season started,” you said to the boy, your voice just loud enough for only him to hear as you held onto each other. 

He clung onto you, no plans of letting you go anytime soon as you both swayed on the spot but it seemed as though you were happy to stay there too. However, the unnerving sensation of feeling like he was being watched forced Lando to open his eyes, looking over your shoulder to find your older brother staring at him. 

‘Do something.’ Carlos mouthed to him. 

And when you eventually did pull back, teary eyed and looking at him like he hung the moon, Lando couldn’t help but let his eyes fall down to your lips. It would be so easy, so fucking easy. He could just lean down and press his lips against yours, feel the little squeak of surprise you would let out before you sunk into his kiss. He could imagine it so fucking clearly.

But the voice of reason in the back of his head managed to scream louder than the adrenaline pumping through his body and he simply threw his arm around your shoulders instead, guiding you towards where Carlos was standing. 

“Gonna celebrate with me?” 

“I’m gonna get you so many shots, you won’t even remember your own name, Norris.”

Lando ignored the disappointed look Carlos sent his way and instead focused on the positives. He wasn’t going to ruin your friendship when you had a good thing going, not when there was the risk he could lose everything. 

And Carlos was just going to have to mind his own business and deal with that.

.

Las Vegas, 2023

It happened so fast.

He didn’t even know what happened until his car finally stopped moving, when the rush of spinning and going hundreds of miles an hour came to a stop and the excruciating pain washed over his whole body.

It felt like someone was stepping on his lungs, making it really fucking difficult to breathe. His head felt fuzzy and heavy, his arms even fucking heavier. For a few moments, he couldn’t remember where he was. And then the sounds of the cars passing, the smell of rubber tires and fuel hit him and he couldn’t help but let his eyes shut as the disappointment of an unfinished race overwhelmed him. 

He could hear the team in his ear, begging for a response. It took him a few attempts before he was able to properly grip the wheel and hit the radio button. It took even longer to scramble out of the wrecked car, even with the help of the marshalls. Everything felt like it was moving too slow and, for someone like Lando who thrived on speed, it was disorienting.

It was like an out of body experience, like it wasn’t really him controlling his body. He just let himself be passed from person to person, someone always guiding him on where he should go. He didn’t argue with anyone as he was taken to the hospital, feeling far too tired to even try disagreeing. He just did what they told him. 

Test after test, observation after observation, talk after talk. Lando went through it all, feeling like a fucking pinball as he was tossed between different rooms and machines and doctors, but he didn’t say anything. He just wanted to lay down and sleep. He just wanted to pretend this whole weekend didn’t happen.

And when he was finally allowed to head back to the paddock to have a debrief with the team and pick up his belongings, the last thing he expected was for you to be waiting in his driver room.

“Gracias a Dios,” you breathed out in relief when your eyes settled on him, standing frozen in the doorway in a jumper that was far too large for him. But it was a passing thought as you rushed over to him, only to pause in fear of hurting him further. 

However, Lando just flashed you a weak smile and brought you into a hug, feeling your body sag against him.

“I was so scared,” you murmured into his chest, sniffling a little as you spoke. “They wouldn’t tell me anything. I threatened to cut Zak’s balls off if he didn’t at least tell me whether you were okay or not.”

Lando snorted softly. “He always was scared of you.”

“Good,” you grumbled before you pulled back, taking in his tired and weary expression. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” he answered, smiling a little when he saw your lips twitch upwards. “I’ll be fine. Just need to take it easy for a few days.” 

You nodded. “We can have an easy night in, just watch a movie or something.” 

And suddenly, it felt like someone was standing on his chest again.

“You don’t have to,” Lando said, shaking his head a little. “I know you’ll probably want to celebrate—”

“I don’t want to do anything except make sure you’re okay,” you interrupted, a note in your voice that he recognised as your unwavering stubbornness. “You can choose the movie. I promise I’ll only complain a little.”

Truthfully, how was he meant to say no to that? 

He tried to pretend like his heart wasn’t racing when you later made your way to his hotel room, sprawled over his bed as you flicked through possible movie options. He tried to pretend his stomach wasn’t fluttering with butterflies when you settled against the headboard, your shoulder brushing against his. He tried to pretend like he was so completely fucking normal when you grabbed one of his hoodies, pulling ot over your head before settling back into his bed. 

He was fine. So fucking fine.

Smooth Operator: this is your chance, muppet. tell her how you feel!!!

And despite Carlos’ message, Lando just enjoyed the night with you. After a crash that could have gone so much worse, he was just grateful to have your presence beside him, whether it was as a friend or something more. 

At least, that is what he kept telling himself.

.

Sainz Christmas Party, 2023

Despite the jokes made, Lando genuinely was an honorary member of the Sainz family. 

With some extra time spent in Monaco before he headed back to England to spend Christmas with his family, it was easy enough to stop over in Spain for a day or two to enjoy the annual Sainz Christmas Party before he headed home.

He had arrived the night before the party, presents in hand to give to the whole family despite their insistence that it wasn’t necessary. Something in his chest eased whenever he spent time with the Sainz family, that reassurance that even though he and Carlos are no longer teammates, they still cherish him the way he cherishes them. 

The party was as extravagant and lavish as it always was. The decorations were sleek and timeless, the wine was expensive and top of the range, and the food served to the many guests was some of the finest Lando had ever truly eaten. 

It felt like a home away from home as he stood beside Carlos Senior and Reyes, a glass of some fancy champagne in his flute as he laughed and chatted away to them. 

That same flute that was almost knocked out of his hand as Carlos came rushing towards him, muttering apologies to the other guests as he pushed past them and beelined towards the Brit. He placed a hand on Lando’s arm, giving his parents a strained smile as he did. 

“Lo siento,” he simply said before tugging Lando away from his parents and the rest of the crowd, leading him down some random hallways in the Sainz household. 

“Woah, Carlos, what’s wrong?” Lando questioned, abandoning the flute of champagne on some table they passed before he split it all. “Where are we going?”

“I need your help with something important and I need you to not ask too many questions,” Carlos stated simply, which only made Lando’s concern grow tenfold. 

“Carlos—” 

But the Brit barely got a chance to say anything before Carlos opened a random door and gave him a hearty shove as he stumbled into the small cupboard. The boy let out a noise of surprise, taking a few moments to realise he had stumbled into you before everything clicked. He whirled around, ready to give the Spaniard a piece of his mind, but the door was quickly slammed in his face and locked shut from the outside. 

“Carlos!” Lando yelled, banging on the door a few times with his fist, but it was useless. 

“No, I have waited five years! I’m sick of this! If you won’t do something about this, then I have to.”

Lando kept his gaze on the door as his cheeks burned in embarrassment. “I am going to kill you!”

“You can’t kill me if I never let you out.” 

His ears burned. “Carlos—” 

“You’ll thank me later. Feliz Navidad and don’t forget to look up!” 

The telling sound of footsteps rushing off made it clear that Carlos had quickly disappeared, leaving you and Lando trapped in the small cupboard for god-knows how long. The Brit let out a groan, leaning his forehead against the cold wooden door as he tried to settle his pounding heart.

“Ouch. I didn’t realise being trapped with me was that bad.” 

“No,” Lando quickly shook his head, guilt eating away at him but he still didn’t turn to look at you. “It’s not that, I just—” he paused for a few moments before he spoke again. “He’s only doing this because of me, I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into it.”

“Lando,” you murmured his name softly, a hand placed on his lower back and he could have sworn your touch had burned through the layers of his clothes.

“I’m really sorry—” 

“Lando,” you repeated again, your voice a little firmer and your hand remained where it was. “Look at me.”

He shook his head.

“Please,” you continued, and your voice tugged on his heartstrings too tightly to say no. 

Lando slowly turned around, a sheepish expression on his face as he took you in. You looked absolutely fucking breathtaking in the dark green dress you were wearing, the ends swaying and brushing against the floor when you moved. Your hair was curled to perfection, your makeup enhancing every feature to make you look prettier (if that was even fucking possible). But god, the best part of your whole ensemble was the smile you gave him. 

He would move mountains to see that fucking smile.

“Don’t apologise,” you said, shaking your head. 

“But—” He started. 

However, you just shook your head. “It’s Christmas.” 

He paused, frowning a little at your response. “Huh?”

“It’s Christmas,” you said with a knowing smile before your gaze shifted upwards, and he couldn’t help but follow your eyeline. Something in his stomach flipped when he saw the sprig of mistletoe hanging above you both. 

Lando swallowed harshly as he glanced back down at you, his eyes instantly landing on your lips. 

“It’s bad luck to break tradition,” you said, your voice barely a whisper as you spoke. And it took a few seconds. A few split seconds for Lando to truly wrap his head around everything. 

This time he didn’t let himself hesitate as he reached up, his hands completely engulfing your cheeks in his hold before he smashed his lips against yours. And just like he imagined—like he dreamt about—you let out a noise of surprise before you sunk into his embrace. 

Your hands fisted the lapels of his blazer, tugging him impossibly closer in the small cupboard until your body was pressed against his. You let out a desperate noise when his tongue darted against your bottom lip, happily letting the boy completely consume you and the air you breathed. His arms around your waist, keeping you close and tight like you were going to disappear. And god, neither of you wanted to pull away. 

“Shit,” he breathed out when he had to pull away, when his lungs were burning and screaming for air. He pressed his forehead against yours, your lipstick undoubtedly smudged against his lips but he didn’t care. No, he didn’t think he could ever care about anything other than kissing you ever again. “I have wanted to do that for so long.”

“I have been waiting for you to do that for so long,” you retorted, your hands smoothing the lapels of his blazer before they slid up to rest on his shoulders. “Five years, to be exact.”

Lando blinked. “What?”

And you smiled, wide and unbashful, and he thought the whole world stopped moving. 

“You weren’t subtle. But apparently you were too oblivious to notice the fact I liked you back,” you said as your fingers lightly traced along the collar of his shirt. 

“You knew?” His brain took a few seconds before he fully processed your words. “You liked me back?” 

“Like,” you corrected. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be locked in a cupboard with you hoping you kiss me again.” 

His hands squeezed your waist, a smile making its way onto his face before he could really stop himself. “I—” His cheeks turned pink, but he didn’t care. “Fuck, I think I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not dreaming, I promise,” you murmured as you tilted your head back to look up at him, eyes full of adoration that he had never really noticed until now. “But better late than never, right?”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, and because he couldn’t help himself, he leaned down to peck your lips again. Though, it was a little hard when he couldn’t stop grinning. “I have five years of bad dates and secret makeout sessions to catch up on.” 

Your grin widened. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Lando murmured and, for the first time in five years, the tightness in his chest felt desired and wanted. The tightness was reassuring, it was the proof he had that this was all really happening.

“Merry Christmas, Lando.” 

“Merry Christmas, baby.” 

And maybe—just fucking maybe—he would thank Carlos for giving him that shove he needed to have the best thing in his life: you.

.

[hellsslibrary]

Hellooooo!! i just saw your post asking for requests and stuff, so uh

here i aaaaam :3

i was wondering if you can do sub! lucifer or barbatos :p

you can do like literally whatever but i am STARVED for sub composed men that eventually are not-so-composed (i wanna see grown men cry)

"Shh... Don't think that water will save us from others."

#a.n. : I'M SO FERAL ABOUT THIS ONE SHOWER CARD OMG.... So shower sex with Luci where you drive him crazy lol.

!!Warnings: Top!Dom!Male!Reader, Sub!Bottom!Lucifer, fingering, finger sucking, shower sex obviously, praise, teasing, a little crying, overstimulation (this is not mentioned but implied), no penetration, Reader is MC, this all take place after the events of the card with skateboards, open final.

The sound of groans and slight squelching sounds was heard in the bathroom. But everything is easily hidden from others outside this room by the sounds of water and a spell cast on the walls.

Your fingers have been moving inside Lucifer for God knows how long, and you made no attempt to stop. Not that Lucifer minded; the stamina of demons is much higher than that of humans, but damn, this was getting too good.

How many times did he cum? He doesn’t remember anymore, and you didn’t count either. Just the fact that you finally managed to convince him to take a break after he worked so wonderfully on creating the best skateboard is already a miracle. But Lucifer himself understood that he deserved it... And how could he disagree when you were so sensitive to making sure he took breaks while working earlier?

"M-MC...Are you ever going to stop?" He asks, still being able to somehow spit out a complete sentence without almost stumbling over the letters.

"Mmm... No, I guess. You're not even at your limit yet, why should I stop?" A rhetorical question comes from your lips, which makes Lucifer’s legs tremble with excitement.

He is clearly not at the limit of his strength, far from it. But you will spend a very long time here if you want to bring him to this line, which is what you actually wanted. You just wanted him to break, in the nicest sense of the word.

Your fingers slid so perfectly inside his already soaking wet walls, each time pressing on a tiny spot that made him moan with pleasure. His dick was constantly rubbing against the shower wall, smearing his cum from several orgasms all over the wall. Lucifer’s palms lay lazily on the wall, and he rested his forehead on them to hide his red little face, which of course you didn’t want, but you didn’t really mind.

"Are you already brought to a complete state of bliss, if you understand what I'm hinting at, Luci?" The only answer to your question was a shake of the head.

But little did you know that it was a lie.

Lucifer felt like he was ready to dissolve, turn into a puddle from the movement of your fingers in him. He felt his entire being being torn apart in the most pleasant sense of the word. He felt like his whole brain was ceasing to function, because he had not been aware of it for a long time.

He's not even sure he can control his own body. A rare moment of vulnerability for him.

Lucifer realizes that his mask will soon crack. It will break like a crack in glass that will break it sooner or later. His self-control will burst.

Or rather, it has already done it.

“Are you crying, precious? Very good, relax, no one will hurt you here...” You whisper when you see tears running down the part of his downward-leaning face that you can see.

He groans when he realizes your fingers are playing with his tongue, making him whine. Such a humiliating sound for him, the Avatar of Pride himself. He shouldn't make sounds like that, but honestly? Fuck it all.

His head leans back, resting on your shoulder. His back collides with your torso. His hips try to match the movement and rhythm of your fingers, moving with them. And his mouth sucks your fingers, as if his life depended on it... Although he will obviously remember this for a long time later.

“Come on, let go,” You whisper in his ear, kissing his cheek, feeling the salty taste of his tears and looking down, slightly surprised that he came at that very second, but absolutely satisfied.

Lucifer hums around your fingers in mock displeasure when you don't slow down your movements even for a moment. He understands that he will regret this.

But it feels so fucking good.

“MC... You... will break me...” He whispers, muffled by your fingers, barely able to form a simple sentence as he feels your fingers deliberately aiming specifically for his prostate.

“Hush, baby,” You coo, he wants to drown in your voice, he realizes that he can’t even hear the sound of water. "Just relax, I won't eat you, you're so fucking good."

He nods. The movement is convulsive, clearly not smooth, and so unusual for Lucifer. You just smirk at this, kissing his neck, making him whimper, wiping away his tears.

After all... Maybe he won't regret this experience as much as he thought.

[vanteguccir]

chris/matt’s reaction to reader calling them pretty boy or just really soft pet names in general 🤍

chris:

I totally think Chris, even though he feels flustered, he would try to make it about you, trying to turn the attention to you, his chest would be SO warm, and he would feel so happy 😭😭

- A SMALL BLURB BC I CAN -

Chris leaned against the doorframe of their shared room, watching Y/N fiddle with a new piece of jewelry she’d bought. She sat cross-legged on the bed, the cozy warm light from the bedside table showering her body, making her look angelic. Her focus on the delicate bracelet was intense, her brows furrowed in concentration.

Chris couldn’t help but smile. As if sensing his gaze, Y/N looked up, her face breaking into a bright, infectious smile.

"There you are!" She exclaimed, her eyes lighting up even more. She patted the spot next to her on the bed. "Come here, pretty boy."

Chris’s heart skipped a beat. He walked over, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"Pretty boy, huh?" That was new, and he couldn't lie and say he didn't like it.

Y/N giggled, a sound that always made his heart flutter. She nodded enthusiastically, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

"Yes, you’re my pretty boy."

Chris sat down next to her, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. He loved how her words could make him feel so special.

"Well, if I’m your pretty boy, what does that make you?" He asked, leaning in closer, his warm breath hitting her cheeks.

Y/N’s blush deepened, and she looked down at her bracelet, trying to hide her giddiness.

"I guess that makes me a lucky girl." She murmured.

Chris chuckled softly, lifting her chin with a gentle finger.

"The luckiest." He agreed, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. Her skin was warm under his lips, and he could feel her smile against him. "My lucky girl."

matt:

Matt is just a softie, he would get SO lost and flustered, blushing like crazy and stuttering 😭😭😭😭

- HERE WE GO -

Y/N lounged on the couch, the warm glow of the afternoon sun casting a golden hue across the room. She was nestled in her favorite corner, a book in hand, when she heard the familiar sound of Matt's footsteps coming from the small hall that led to their shared room. He entered the living room, his hair slightly tousled from a nap, and his eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Hey, sleepyhead." Y/N greeted him with a smile, her eyes sparkling with affection. "Did you have a good nap?"

Matt rubbed his eyes and stretched, a soft yawn escaping his lips.

"Yeah, I did. I needed that. Recording all night wasn't a good idea... How's your book?"

"It's amazing, but you know what's even better?" Y/N's smile grew wider as she set her book aside, giving Matt her full attention. "Seeing my pretty boy all relaxed and well rested."

Matt froze, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. He wasn't used to such compliments, even though Y/N always seemed to catch him by surpise, as if she knew exactly how to make his heart race every time.

"P-Pretty boy?" He stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, his blue eyes turning wide open, shining below the daylight that came from the big window.

"Yes, pretty boy." Y/N repeated, leaving her book aside and standing up, walking over to him. She reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, aligning his messy curls. "You are the most beautiful, kind-hearted person I know, yeah?"

Matt's eyes widened, his blush spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, each beat louder than the last. He was such a sucker for praises, and Y/N knew that very well.

"Y/N, you can't just say things like that." He mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Why not? It's true." She replied, her smile widening as she lowered her hand from his hair to his face, caressing his jaw.

Matt's heart raced as he felt her touch. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so flustered. He bit his lip, trying to suppress a grin but failing miserably.

"I-I... uh... th-thank you." He managed to say, his voice trembling.

Y/N chuckled softly, loving how flustered he became. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"You're adorable when you're shy." She teased, her lips brushing against his skin.

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Eat Your Young

Astarion and Tav take advantage of the rainy weather in camp. Pure smut, no plot.

Pairings: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: smut, p in v sex, swearing. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Listen, usually I like a lil plot but Astarion sometimes deserves just some good ole smut, right?! Also inspired by the Hozier song, "Eat Your Young"

REMINDER: my inbox is open for requests!

Astarion's hand roughly ran down your neck, the candles in his tent casting shadows over the space. He hissed in pleasure as his fingers gracefully found your collarbone, his nails tickling the skin around your neck. You groaned, your eyes fluttering closed.

"This is not what I came in here for." You said, even though you knew that was a lie.

Well, partly.

Basically since the beginning of your adventure with the companions, you and Astarion had found yourselves drawn to each other. First as friends, but then quickly into a sexual situation. A way to satiate yourselves, and to have a bit of shining light in the darkness that was all the doom and gloom and battle and blood.

"Oh?" Astarion asked, his mouth dangerously close to your neck, "And what did you actually come in here for?" His voice was melodic, almost a purr. You felt his fangs lightly drag across your neck - enough to leave a scratch, but not enough to break skin. You gasped.

"F-for the book," You were able to choke out, one of your hands finding his hair. You ran your fingers through his locks, earning a quick moan from Astarion, "The book I lent you last week. I know you're done reading it, so-"

"You came all the way across camp in a rain storm for a book you could easily get from me tomorrow?" He pulled away, his eyes twinkling. It was bullshit, and he knew it. "Is that why both of our clothes are off, and were discarded on the floor within 45 seconds of you coming into my tent, my pet?"

"Um..." You bit your lip and both of you smiled, "I'm easily distracted." You tried to argue, but Astarion's lips were on you again, his tongue quickly finding yours. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed his body on yours, his erection pressing into your stomach. Thunder clapped outside, causing you to jump, which caused Astarion to wrap his arm around your back tighter, bringing you closer.

"What do you want, my darling? Tell me," He pulled away from your mouth, but his lips were still touching yours. Your heart pounded in your chest from his breath on your face, "Tell me what you want." His voice was velvet smooth, causing your stomach to clench. You groaned, unable to stop yourself - how did this fucking man know exactly what to say, and exactly what to do to get you going?

"I want your cock in my mouth," You said quickly, it coming out as one breath. His eyebrows raised and he smirked, wordlessly pushing himself to the edge of the bed to give you space. Looking down at his erection, you felt a wave of heat rush to your clit, unable to contain yourself.

Before he could even lay down, your mouth was on his cock hungrily. He moaned in surprise, his voice echoing off the tent walls. Immediately your mouth filled with spit as you worked on his thick member, using your tongue the exact way you knew he loved. His hands found their way into your hair and pulled, causing you to grip the blankets underneath your hands.

"Hells, you're so fucking good," Astarion grumbled, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, "Deeper." He commanded.

You made your way fully down on his member, causing his hips to buck in your mouth. You felt your eyes water a bit, and pulled up, taking your mouth completely off of his cock. "Does that feel good?" You toyed, pumping him in your hand. He moved his head back to look at you, his eyes a deep red. You watched the end of his mouth turn up in the shadow of a smile.

Suddenly, the rain started to beat harder against the tent walls.

In one swift movement, Astarion's hand grabbed your chin, pull you on top of him. His member, slick with your spit and precum, slid against your body, causing you to gasp. He looked between your eyes before hungrily crashing his lips against yours again, this time pulling your hair roughly.

"Not as good as it'll feel when I'm inside of you." He said in your ear, before biting your lobe. You moaned loudly, the noise getting lost in the rain.

"Then fuck me."

"Say please."

"Please, Astarion! I need you."

"You need me to what?"

"To fuck me. I need your dick inside of me." You reached down to his cock and started to pump him again, causing Astarion to erupt a small moan from his lips. He looked into your eyes one final time before he flipped you below him.

"On your stomach." He said, waiting patiently. He was sitting high up on his knees, looking down on you. Now, his cock was in his own hand and he stroked it slowly, taking the full length of his member in his palm. He didn't break eye contact as you got on your belly. Soon, you felt him spread your legs gently, and his body weight pressed on top of you.

"I'm going to fuck you so good, you'll be screaming to the gods by the end of it." He murmured in your ear. You shuddered at his voice, and soon you felt him lining himself up at your entrance.

"Oh, Astarion..." You breathe, your thoughts becoming a jumbled mess. You heard him chuckle before he continued on.

"Are you ready?" He asked. You felt like you couldn't speak, your stomach was so clenched in anticipation. You nodded, and almost instantly his cock was deep inside of you, sending ripples of pleasure throughout your body. You called out, lifting your head. As you lifted your head, Astarion took hold of your hair and pulled.

"Gods, you are so fucking tight." He groaned, every word accentuated by a thrust inside of you. You clapped you hand over your mouth so you wouldn't cry out, but he pulled it away, "Don't. I want everyone to hear."

"Fuck, Astarion!" You called out, his hands finding your hips for better leverage. You felt a heat start to rise within you, causing you to breath harder. "Don't stop! Right there-"

"Right there?" He purred, his voice teasing, "Right there and I'm going to make my good girl come?"

"Yes!" You moaned, his voice ripping through you, "Yes right there and I'm going to come. Don't stop!"

The sound of his cock pounding into you filled the tent as your mind became foggy. The pleasure started to soften the sides of your vision as Astarion gripped your hips, definitely leaving marks for tomorrow. As your words turned into incoherent noises, you felt Astarion thrust into you harder, making sure you felt filled.

"Show me you're a good girl," He murmured, his voice steady; in control. As Astarion often was - in control. It drove you crazy, usually the catalyst in tipping you over the edge. "Be my good girl and come for me."

Finally, you felt yourself spill over him as you cried out his name - the heat rose completely in you and for a moment, Astarion stopped thrusting in you, taking his hands and wrapping them around your waist, so that he could feel your orgasm completely. With your head so close to his, he whispered words of praise in your ear - "Good girl. That's it - come for me. Let me feel it. Give me all of it."

You panted, your thoughts finally starting to align again. As you regained control of your body, Astarion gently flipped you over. Spreading your legs open, he entered you again slowly, earning a whimper from you. Two thrusts in and he caused you to throw your head back, crying his name.

"That's it - that's my girl," He hissed, speeding his thrusts up slowly, "Let me see that pretty face, darling. Your pretty face is going to make me come."

"Astarion, FUCK. You feel so good!" You couldn't help yourself as he started again, one of his hands finding it's way to your erect nipples. He pinched and palmed your tits as they bounced with every thrust - the sight of your body bouncing, and your face calling his name, he wasn't far behind you with an orgasm. But, he wanted it to last...

He wanted to wear you out.

It was always so sexy seeing you struggle in the following days, knowing that he alone was the cause.

"Your cock...feels so good..." You panted, your hands finding their way to his shoulder blades. Thunder clapped again, drowning out the scream you cried as Astarion hit your spot. Once he realized how crazy he was driving you, he smiled.

"All for you," He grunted, "This cock is all for you." Sweat beaded at his temples as he stared into your eyes. They were dark, hungry - he started to get the glint in his eyes that he would before he was sent over the edge.

Astarion pounded into so hard that the bed groaned under the pressure. You could feel Astarion's body start to tense above you, so you gripped Astarion's ass, pushing him deeper into you.

The extra effort made you start to see stars, and Astarion was on the same page; "I'm close," He grunted, touching his forehead to yours, "Hells, you're going to make me come."

"Come for me," You breathed, placing a sloppy, rough kiss on his lips, "Come for me."

Suddenly, Astarion called out your name, and you felt him spill into you. The tension in his body reached his climax and gradually released, his body laying completely on top of you.

The only noise in the tent - besides the pounding rain - was your and Astarion's breathing. The shallow, quick breaths turned into deeper, heftier breaths and you regained your composure, the heating slowly leaving your body.

"Gods, you're beautiful." Astarion murmured, brushing your sweaty hair behind your ear gently. He delicately placed a kiss on your lips as he slid down to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you tight. You sighed contently, running a hand over his side and snuggling your head closer into his shoulder. A moment of silence passed before you spoke.

"I did actually come here for that book, you know." You teased, causing him to chuckle.

"Oh? Would you like me to go get it for you then?" He asked, pretending to get out of bed. You giggled and gently pushed him back down.

"Shut up," You playfully scolded him, "I just wanted to let you know that I didn't just come here to seduce you."

"But darling, it's so much fun getting seduced by you." He looked at you and smirked, his eyes sparkling. You rolled your eyes and placed a kiss on his mouth.

"Well...I guess I'll have to let you borrow my books more often, then."

------

My first time doing smut with no plot - I'm gonna be honest, I don't know how I feel about it yet! What did you all think?

Just a reminder: my inbox is open for requestions!

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Mr. Gaiman (sorry for the ramble in advance),

Hope you're doing well. I don't usually use tumblr, but every time I open it up you're here so I figure I'd drop a note. I'm a writer, but I've always had a really hard time actually WRITING instead of just thinking about it. I've had this world and its characters plaguing my head for years now, and it's only gotten worse with age, so recently I doubled down and decided it was gonna get done—one way or the other.

I recently read a passage in a book about writing that said, in essence, your first book doesn't really matter all that much if you plan to be an author. As an autistic lad, I (naturally) took this very literally and was upset at the thought. Sure, your first work is probably going to be your weakest—duh, because by the time book two rolls around you'll have had time to have faced any criticisms from your first, you'll have learned more as you write, and about the world too. But for your first book to not matter at all, no matter how passionate you are about it—I found myself wondering, "Well, what's the point at all, then?" You put in all that work, you learn plot devices, you breathe life into your characters and watch 'em toddle around, and for what? For it to just be a stepping stone? It felt intensely personal of it just being cast aside like that, and I haven't even written the damn thing yet!

MasterClass had a Father's Day sale, so I figured "why not" and went ahead and got a subscription. First thing I did was run to your class, and although I've only watched the first two parts—I want to thank you for restoring my motivation. Truth is, I think the reason that message in the writing book upset me so much is because I'm terrified of writing this damn book. I've woven so many pieces of myself into it, despite it very much being, in your words, a lie (and about a boy that lies all the time, no less), but the grief that I feel and all the complicated feelings about forgiveness are all there and very real, despite its fantastical elements. So much of it really IS more than I'm comfortable sharing with people, and the idea of baring all that out and being told it didn't matter at all? Absolutely devastating. At the end of the line? The book might actually suck. I might rewrite it, I might trash it, I might completely forget about it ten years from now, or I might sell ten copies on Amazon to family and friends and then move on with my life. It's not stepping on a yellow jacket nest in the woods, but it's still terrifying. I still can't even fathom the idea of letting anyone actually read it until I've obsessed over it for another four years, and even then! But I'll write it anyways.

Thank you.

You are so welcome!

[rottenaero]

Ao3

Part 1

Part 3

Part two to the roommates idea

Whenever the mall ‘burns down’, Eddie is just chilling at home; not doing anything special.

Actually, thats a complete lie. He hadn't seen Steve since he left for his shift the day before, and currently has his band+Wayne scattered in the living room as he paces.

“He may as well be dead, he always calls before staying the night somewhere, and he totally despises that place, so why would he stay after hours?” He comes to a halt infront of Jeff who looks considering. “What?!"

“Maybe, consider, he just forgot to call you." Eddie scoffed, “ ‘Maybe he just forgot’, except you don't know him, Jeff. Steve doesn't forget, tell ‘em Wayne."

Wayne nods from his spot on the lazyboy, “ ‘S true, he'd rather call at 2am than have us worrying.”

Gareth rolls his eyes, “Look Edmund, I get your worried about you boyfriend and all but why did we have to get dragged into this?" He complained, and Eddie began pacing again.

“ Not,my boyfriend, yet, and you’re getting-”

A ringing interrupts him.

The pacing stopped almost as soon as it began, and he darts to the phone. “ Y’hello, it's Eddie talking.” A sharp breath drew from the other end of the line.

“Hey Eds."

Eddie smiled, “Holy shit, Stevie. I thought you died. Wayne and the guys are literally gathered in the living room.” Upon hearing the name, Wayne visibly relaxed, going from hunched over to leaning backwards in seconds.

“Yeah I'm- Well shit not okay but I'm not dead.”In the background there was a noise, barely noticeable but-

“Wait, what? Are those sirens? Are you hurt? What the hell-” Wayne leaned forward again.

“I'm at the mall, there's been, uh, an accident? I don't- they took my keys, I need a ride back home.”

“Who took your keys? Steve you can't just be all ominous and-” The phone line shut off. "Fuck!”

Grant, who hasn't been helpful at all, stood up. "What did he do?”

Eddie groans, running a hand through his greasy hair, “Needs us to pick him up, might be hurt. He's such a- Wayne we're taking my van, you guys coming?”

Turns out the answer is yes.

-

They arrive at the mall five minutes later, mostly because Eddie was driving like a bat outta hell, to every emergency vehicle you can think of, plus thirty more, surrounding the place.

Eddie roles his window down when a cop signals him. “What are you doing over here?"

The metalhead bites his lip, what the hell, “Uh, I'm here to pick up Steve Harrington? He got involved in whatever's happening.”

The cops nods, "Alright, park your vehicle over there, and go get him.”

He does as he's told, a surprising feat showing just how scared he was, because Steve being hurt could mean so many things.

They get out the car, Wayne being the leading man, and head to where the commotion is.

The mall was totally destroyed, a couple kids he didn't know were sitting around, surrounded by their parents, there's a couple teens too, Nancy Wheeler, Johnny Byers, a girl in a sailor costume, and-

Eddie’s heart stopped and he fucking sped forward. “ Holy shit, what the fuck man." Steve looked like hell, understatement of the century but-

His face was bruised and bloody, his hands wrapped in casts, his hair was flat and gross and he was still in his damn sailor costume.

“Hey Munsons, Gareth, Jeff, Grant. It's the whole Scooby gang, or Smurfs, whoever you prefer.” Eddie grabbed his shoulders, and stared him dead in the eye. “ What. The. Fuck. Are you high too?!”

“Just what the hell did you get yourself into. " Wayne said more than asked, shaking his head.

Steve buzzed his lips, his eyebrows furrowed and he brought a hand to them and-

God they were split, and bleeding now. He looked back up at the long haired man infront of him, ignoring Wayne's question-not-question.

“Nah, just recovering from being drugged. Hey this is rivveting conversation and shit, but like, I wanna go home and sleep in your bed, man. Or the couch, or the floor.”

He let out a loud laugh, “Fuck I am not picky right now, I'll even take the back of the van.”

“Christ."

-

They don't talk about it, not after Hellfire goes home, not the next morning, not after Steve heals. They just don't, because the news told them all they need to know, that there was a fire. Eddie just assumed when they said he was drugged, that he meant medically.

(He didn't)

[romanoffsbish]

You Can Run, but You Can’t Hide

Alpha!Natasha Romanoff x Omega!Reader

Natasha always knew the truth, but it wasn’t until a mission where she had you alone that she set her plan in motion. Come the end of the trip she planned to make your hers in the most natural way—claimed and bred. | WC: 1,440

Warnings: NC Themes (Discarding of hormone blockers) | Guns / Death (to Hydra)

Smut: Kotenok (R) | Penetration (P in V — Natasha has a penis) | Public (Over [a balcony railing]) | Choking | Breeding

Natasha watched the way you paced around the room, it'd been a weeks time since you'd arrived in this hotel. A mission that you were assigned on with Natasha, an Avenger first, Alpha second, but nonetheless an Alpha.

Which would be fine, since you were a beta, but with your medicine missing the truth was coming to light. The truth that the redhead was aware of from the second the lie left your lips, you were an omega; hers, waiting for what, she didn’t know, but she was over it.

———

That's why she took your stash of hormone blockers and poured them down the toilet on night one, at first she appreciated your concealment since she was busy. Missions were at an all time high last year when you joined Shield, but with the incoming fall of Hydra, as this mission is designed for such a thing, there was no longer a need for you to hide from predatory alpha's.

Natasha was here now, to make sure they all knew you were hers. Hers to claim, to wreck, to fill with her pups.

Her cock twitched when she got a whiff of your scent, it was dull from the prolonged use of drugs, but it was still clear enough for her to feel comforted by the soft swirls of cinnamon and vanilla. Then it soured as your body began to fight against the natural, debilitating heat that followed a sudden change, such as quitting your meds. Natasha was quick to croon from the other room, pumping out thick pheromones as she slowly entered the room. You looked up at her so pitifully.

"Oh kotenok," she coo'd, "You don't look too good, what's wrong beta? Are you going through a period?"

You whimpered, body trembling as your natural instincts made you throw yourself into her chest. "Alpha please." Natasha wrapped her arms around you, and held you close enough that you could feel her twitch through her pants. You cried and she smirked. “Oh, what a naughty girl, you’re no beta after all…”

Judging by her teasing tone, you understood that she knew, and with the way she gripped you, it was even more clear what had happened to your supply. You should be angry, but you were actually relieved. A single alpha like Natasha was rare to find, she was kind, soft when off the clock, and gorgeous in all facets. You’d almost poured the pills down the drain yourself every time you caught her staring at you after an event.

“I’m sorry, but please don’t pull away, I-I need you.”

"Are you gonna tell me why you've been hiding?"

"I-I wasn't ready to give up my life just yet, but fuck, I swear I'm ready now, if it's with you alpha, please."

"We have a mission," she reminded you, her eyes cast outside the window to catch movement of the enemy.

"Please!" You gripped her biceps, body shivering at the chiseled muscles that flexed beneath your fingers, if you didn't need her before, you sure did now. "Shit."

Natasha kept your body from falling with the buckle of your knees, her free hand reached for her long rifle and she took the both of you outside onto the balcony.

"I'll fuck you," she gave in with ease, and you purred softly at the good news. Then you felt her slipping your pants off and softly shrieked, "We're outside Natasha, anyone can see us." She chuckled, "Good observation."

Natasha continued to strip you while her other hand set her gun up on its stand, a bit of a multitasker.

"I can wait," you tried to stop her, but not really as you arched your bare ass into her dicks imprint, your body having a mind of its own, your heat was too strong. "Well, I don't want to detka, I've waited far too long."

Though you’d guessed it, you were shocked at the way she confirmed it without an ounce of shame. “Y-you knew?" Natasha gripped your hip, and brought your dripping entrance to her thick tip. "Of course I did, you can't hide from a super soldier's senses," her nose nuzzled over your neck and you whimpered at the hopeful promise of her claiming you. No longer were you worried about anyone seeing you two, the rest of the world faded away as she slipped herself inside.

Her hips stayed still, allowing your slick walls a moment to catch up with the stretch before she was lifting you off the ground. "Na-Natasha, what are..."

The redhead grunted as she lifted your body onto the railing by her grip around the nape of your neck, and you cried out in both fear and pleasure. It was muffled as she alluringly slid her hand around to squeeze your throat. The tip of her cock had slammed into your cervix just as you stared down at the far away ground, full of tiny silhouettes to remind you it was day time. 

The railing shook as Natasha picked up a brutal pace, her face never lost its smirk as she felt your legs wrap around her backside, your heels painfully dug into her covered back. "Alpha, I-I'm not sure about..."

"You wanted to be filled Y/N," she taunted, "I said we had a mission, that means you'll take your pleasure while I do all of the work. Be thankful, not bratty."

"Sorry Alpha," you whimpered, and held on tighter.

"There's the leader," she pointlessly alerted you, who couldn't see anything other than her demise if she slips over the railing. Your walls were clenching so hard, hoping to instigate her knot so that you'd have a more secure base, but it was fruitless. Natasha's stamina was unworldly, and you were completely at her mercy here.

You heard a muffled shot go off over the sound of the railing squeaking beneath your moving body, then the gun was going off again. "Partner is down, two to go."

Natasha picked up her pace, and was rewarded with your filthy moans that were once muffled by your fear, and she knew she wouldn't last much longer. Which was fortunate for the both of you since she already shot another member, and was left with the other who had caught sight of the both of you. He was stuck in place, unable to comprehend that he was going to die by the hands of the Black Widow, who was railing her omega.

Natasha smirked, and finally gave into your cries to be upright. She grunted as your back pressed to her front and your slick, from your first orgasm, ran down her legs. "Last one detka, keep him distracted for me."

Your eyes locked on the others, the mans mouth was agape as he watched you get railed, it distracted him from the red dot that illuminated his forehead. He was clearly unaware of his fate as his eyes lost their life but you were aware of yours as her knot locked in place and her potent stream of cum filled you with a future.

"You are going to look so beautiful full of my pups," Natasha hoarsely groaned against your neck, her teeth barely scraped over your sensitive gland and you mewled, your walls milked her cock even more and her knot subsequently deflated after a minute of your persistence . “Fuck, I need to fill you again kotenok.”

Her strong hands held you by your hips as she carried you back into the hotel room. She laid you flat on the mattress, and pulled out of you, just long enough to flip you over and thrust right back inside of you. It was loud as your arousals rushed out, only to be sloshed all over the place as her cock entered you mid disposal.

Your body then thrashed at the harsh fill up and her canines dug into your scent gland, leaving behind her unbreakable mark as your core fluttered around her as you came again without much work. "Keep squeezing me just like that detka and we'll never be apart again."

"Good," you sighed softly, happiness clear in your eyes, "I was getting tired of being apart to begin with."

Natasha chuckled, and leaned in to chastely kiss your lips, "It was your choice to hide detka, I was waiting."

"I'm glad you grew impatient," you mused, then you nervously pressed a kiss to her neck, wet lips grazed over her scent gland. "Can I claim you too, Alpha?"

"Wait," she whispered, voice raspy as she began to pump in and out of you, "Wait for my knot detka..."

[sebsbarnes]

too sweet || tangerine

tangerine x reader

summary: tangerine is strong and bitter, much like a neat whiskey but you were sweet, like an aged wine, and he wasn't use to that.

warnings: none

word count: 1.2k+

a/n: requested by @whimsical-roasting inspired by lyrics from hozier's new song too sweet :)

masterlist

tangerine was harsh, uninviting. rigid and stern. he wasn't one to make small talk with the store clerk or mutter a hello to the person walking past him on the street. that was him, and he was unapologetically himself. he didn't care nor did he want to be that person who was over-joyous to strangers, it didn't entice him. what would he gain from exposing pieces of himself? he becomes vulnerable and that wasn't a word tangerine would ever describe himself as.

you were warm, inviting. gentle and kind. you were one to chat with the store clerk and greet the person walking past on the street. that was you, unapologetically yourself. you wanted to be that person who engaged with strangers whenever possible. you would gain so much from sharing and exchanging pieces of yourself with others. you felt secure.

tangerine faults himself for breaking that day he met you. he often wonders why his eyes cast a glance at you, but they did and that simple movement upturned his life.

it was a long day, a day from hell, actually. tangerine was exhausted from work and found himself dragging his feet home. his head screamed in pain, his throat felt tight from dehydration, and his stomach was practically eating itself. the flickering neon light of the convenience store caught his attention and the metal bell announced his arrival in the store. he wandered to the drink cooler and stuffed his arms with anything that sounded appealing. tangerine wanted a real dinner but unfortunately that night the snack aisle would be a five-star meal.

"you can never go wrong with these," a voice spoke and tangerine saw a pointing hand come into his field of vision. he mumbled under his breath some sort of 'thank you' and grabbed the bag of crackers.

that's when he looked over. that's when he saw you. that's when tangerine's normal hard exterior soon chiseled away in your presence. he felt his shoulders relax and he stopped gritting his teeth when you looked back at him and smiled.

"if you want something more hardy they got killer snacks up at the register. i'll admit i'm almost a regular here because of them. it's a bit embarrassing but the workers are really cool," tangerine stood there and listened to you talk. he liked the way your lips pulled up into a smile and how animated your face became. perhaps it was the pure exhaustion from the day that wore him down and made him engage in a conversation with you, or maybe it was just your warm presence.

it wasn't long after that night in the convenience store that tangerine ran into you again. he didn't see you at first but rather heard you. your booming voice and infectious laugh carried its way over to him. he was on a walk, an exercise he enjoyed, when the breeze carried you to him. he paused on the sidewalk and in some measly attempt to stall, tangerine re-stretched his legs until you came closer.

'hey! i remember you, how were those snacks?"

tangerine pretended to be caught off guard at first before responding, "pretty fuckin' good, i can't lie."

"told you!" you laughed with a wave goodbye.

tangerine found himself cemented to the sidewalk watching the back of your head disappear into the day, your arms flailing as you spoke to the friend beside you, and your voice slowly drifting away.

this would keep happening, tangerine running into you in public every few days in different places. it confused him a bit, to the point he almost considered that you were some spy out to get him and his arm would subconsciously drift to the knife in his pocket. each time he would stop himself when you began to talk about the most mundane things and share little anecdotes about yourself with him, like how last night you burnt your dinner and ate a whole bag of wonton strips you found in the back of your pantry from a recipe you cooked a year ago or how earlier that day you stepped in dog poop and didn't realize until you tracked it into the store. tangerine loved hearing you overshare and how kind you treated him even when he was a stranger.

in the months to come you and tangerine turned these random run-ins into deliberate meetings. at the park, at the movies, at a restaurant, at his home. you would notice the glances from people when tangerine stood beside you or the raised brow when tangerine was short with conversation while you talked the person's ear off.

"i know i'm not the friendliest but at least i don't grimace in people's faces," tangerine chided.

you tsked, running a hand up and down his bicep, "oh tang, don't mind them. they just don't know you like i do."

but he did start to mind how others perceived him after the two of you started dating. most people knew how outgoing and sweet you were, but tangerine didn't want to taint the image of you with him by your side. he didn't want people to start believing you were also this cold, stern, person. you couldn't even be if you tried. not only this but he felt guilty hiding his job from you. had you been aware you wouldn't be with him. each day you prioritized the happiness of others and never acted with malice, he was the stark contrast. he hated how he was beginning to love the sweetness.

it was late, 3am to be exact, and the two of you were lying in bed. your legs wrapped around tangerine and his head propped up on the satin. the tv cast a glow onto the bed, the array of colors illuminating your skin. it was an action movie. fast-paced, big cars, bad people, and drugs. your hand was placed on tangerine's cheek, the small digit of your thumb caressing the empty space below his eye. a gun sounded and your body jolted, eyebrows pulled together at the sight of the body falling to the ground.

"that's so scary. i can't believe there are people out there who want to hurt others," you sighed.

tangerine stiffened. he could hear the beat of his heart drumming in his ears and the way his hands became clammy. he watched as the main character aimed his gun at another person and pulled the trigger with no hesitation. that was him. he was watching himself and without you even knowing, you were also watching him. who he really was.

"why's your heart beating so fast. you a lil scaredy cat hm?" you joked rubbing your palm on his chest.

tangerine stifled a fake laugh, "just gettin' nervous for him," he winced at how pitiful his excuse was but you didn't seem to catch on.

he felt sick. you were too sweet for him, like grapes at the bottom of a barrel, aging into a sweet wine. he was foul-mouthed, hot-headed, impolite, and dangerous. he wasn't meant for you, didn't deserve you. he only ever knew the bold and strong taste of a black coffee or a neat whiskey. he wasn't used to the sweet flavor.

[nadvs]

Blurb where reader and Rafe are friends but they are secretly in love with each other and they go swimming in the lake during moonlight and they end up kissing

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

content warning drug and alcohol use

You always knew that there was more to Rafe Cameron than people thought.

He had a reputation for being reckless and arrogant, but there was something about him that made you think he wasn’t as simple as the gossip made him out to be.

The summer after high school graduation was when he finally got up the courage to speak to you. He’d seen you around school and at parties. It was hard not to notice you.

He’d spent most of senior year wondering how the hell to talk to you. And the longer he delayed approaching you, the more he psyched himself out.

Finally, one night, Rafe saw you standing alone and looking bored at a house party. He chugged the rest of his beer, crossed the room, and jokingly asked if you knew that parties are supposed to be fun.

You spent the rest of the night talking, your conversation flowing so effortlessly that before you knew it, the sun was coming up. Rafe wanted to kiss you, but you left so quickly that he lost his chance.

The next time you saw each other at a party, you both got so high that you decided to run out to the beach and lie in the sand under the stars. All you did was talk - about how fast life was going by, about your plans for the future, about what life beyond the island you both grew up on could be like.

Eventually, the conversation trickled to insecurities. Why the hell you were so easy to talk to, Rafe didn’t know, but he opened up about what he hated about himself. You did the same. And neither of you agreed with the negative things you had to say about yourselves.

He wanted to kiss you, but again, he couldn’t find the right opportunity. Later on, he even resorted to bringing up other girls to you just to see if you’d be jealous. You didn’t seem fazed at all.

He was obviously just a friend to you. The tightness in his chest once he realized this was more painful than he was prepared for.

Once Rafe started asking you for dating advice, it was clear he didn’t return your feelings. You pretended to be okay with it until you eventually were.

You dealt with it because your assumption was right; he wasn’t what everyone said he was. He had a depth to him that he hid behind layers of phony self-importance. If what you had with him was purely platonic, you’d take it.

In August, one of your mutual friends planned a getaway at their family’s lakehouse over one of the last weekends of the summer.

The finality of the season ending, the knowledge that everyone will soon be going their separate ways, is an unwelcome presence wedging its way into the humid air.

You’re sitting around the bonfire with everyone on Saturday night, wood crackling and crickets chirping over overlapping conversations.

After months of friendship, Rafe thought it’d get easier to accept your lack of feelings for him. But as he watches the flames cast shadows on your pretty face, he realizes he’d rather take the hit of your rejection than the agony of never knowing if you feel something, too.

Once your friends start to retire to their rooms, Rafe waits for an opportunity to get you alone. You’re at the bottom of the stone steps leading back up to the house when his warm hand cups yours.

“Let’s swim,” he says into the warm night air.

“Are you serious?” you laugh, looking up at the moon, a crescent in the black sky.

“Don’t tell me you forgot how to have fun again,” Rafe jeers, referencing the first thing he ever said to you.

“Rude,” you say, nudging his shoulder. “I know how to have fun.”

“Then come on.” He tilts his head towards the large lake behind him.

“God,” you sigh with a roll of your eyes. But you step past him, walking towards the water, glancing back at him. “What, were you bluffing or are we actually doing this, Cameron?”

Rafe smirks to himself and follows you.

You strip down to your bra and underwear and plunge into the cold water, swimming up to the surface and shuddering from the cold.

He’s standing on the dock, boxers only, hands on his hips as he looks down at you. It gives you a moment to take in his broad frame and taut muscles in the moonlight. Being friends with him is especially hard in these moments.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” he teases, dimples deep in his cheeks.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter, treading water. Rafe laughs and ruffles his hair. “Wuss.”

He is a wuss, but not for the reason you think. He’s been nothing but cowardly, keeping how he feels from you for so long.

Rafe dives into the frigid water. It’s a shock to his system as he bobs up beside you, his body breaking out in goosebumps.

“Fuck,” he shudders.

“It’s painful, right?” you say, matching his laughs. “What a stupid idea.”

Rafe gazes at you, eyes dropping to your bright smile.

He’s quiet for so long that you worry you hurt his feelings. You remember him telling you that he’s insecure about his intelligence. Your heart twists with pain.

“I’m messing with you,” you say. “Sorry. It wasn’t stupid. You’re not stupid.”

This - the opinion you have of him, the way you emphasize that a joke is just a joke after he gets quiet like this - is what made Rafe fall for you. Shit. This isn’t just a crush. He’s falling for you.

“Something’s off,” you say.

“Huh?” His heart is hammering.

“You haven’t insulted me back,” you reply. “You feeling okay?”

You put a hand on Rafe’s forehead, pretending to take his temperature, and the feeling makes his stomach flip. You retreat and break contact.

“What?” you laugh after he doesn’t respond. You gaze at the water droplets scattered over his handsome face as you rock together in the cold water.

“Remember when we got shit-faced on the beach?” he asks.

You think back how loudly the waves crashed on the shore that night as you lay in the sand with Rafe, gazing at his profile while you talked about anything and everything. It was your second time hanging out. And it was unforgettable.

“Yeah,” you say.

“I don’t…” Rafe looks to the side, eyeing the cabins on the far edge of the lake, yellow lights peeking through rectangular windows. “I don’t talk with anybody like that.”

Your throat suddenly goes dry. Rafe is not one to get touchy-feely. It must be the nostalgia of the summer ending that’s making him so sentimental.

“Me, neither,” you respond honestly.

“Be honest with me,” Rafe says. The sound of water ebbing as you float together hums beneath you.

“I always am.”

“Was there…” He breathes out a nervous chuckle. “Did you ever think we’d be more than friends?”

“What?” you say, unsure you heard him right.

Rafe gazes at you through heavy-lidded eyes. The shock in your tone sends a pang of disappointment through his body.

He realizes if he continues to wait for the right time to kiss you, it’ll never come. He can’t keep waiting.

Your heart thrums as he drifts closer to you, eyes darting to your mouth. He cups your cheek and you’re in disbelief that this is happening.

“I said,” he murmurs quietly, “did you think we’d be more than friends?”

“No,” you respond. He stills. “I mean - I hoped. But I didn’t think that you…”

“You hoped?” he says. The sanguinity in his deep voice is soft, but it’s there. You know it’s there.

You nod, your eyes locked on his.

“Say it,” he tells you.

“I hoped we’d be more,” you admit. “But you were…”

“What was I?” he asks, shifting closer, his nose nudging against yours. You realize your breaths are shallow.

“You were asking me about other girls, Rafe.” His lips are inches away from yours, the anticipation twisting inside of you.

He hates himself for playing games. He lost a whole summer with you because he was too gutless to risk rejection. And he refuses to waste any more time.

Rafe’s warm lips press against yours. His touch is so much gentler than you expected. But this is what Rafe does. He surprises you, again and again.

You part your lips, deepening the kiss, head numb from the sensation he’s giving you. You’ve imagined this, daydreamed about it. But you never thought it’d be a reality.

Every time you looked at him from across the room or laughed with him or shared innocent touches, he was longing for you, too. It makes your head spin.

When you pull apart, you stare with anticipative expressions, as if you’re expecting the other to say this was a mistake.

But neither of you do. You smile and he smiles back, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone.

“You were the girl I wanted,” he rasps.

“Were?” you say, unable to ignore the opportunity to mess with him.

Rafe huffs a laugh, his tongue jutting under his cheek.

“Are,” he corrects himself.

You take the initiative to kiss him this time and his heart buzzes. His friendship with you was a collection of hopeful maybes, but now he’s certain. He’s sure you feel the same way. And he’s not wasting another minute hiding his feelings for you.

[jflemings]

— loose lips sink ships pt4

pairing: jessie fleming x reader pt 1, pt2, pt3

synopsis: jessie’s lack of proper explanation has her pleading

warnings: so so angsty, language

a/n: lol

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍁 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

the tick of your eyebrow tells jessie that this isn’t going to be one of those times when you two talk it out.

“great!” you say clapping your hands “so do you mind telling me why you said that bullshit instead of behind honest with me about your two and a half year relationship?” your falsely cheery tone paired with the sarcastic smile across your face is unsettling for jessie. “and while you’re at it, why don’t you tell me what the problem with this photo is?” you say as you slide your phone across the counter. the photo that was on jordyn’s story stares back at jessie.

“y/n” the canadian starts “i really— it’s not—” she huffs and scrubs a hand over her face. “i was standing up before the photo and she moved over so i could sit down. there wasn’t much room so we had to squish together, and she stood up pretty much immediately after the photo was taken”

you nod once as you purse your lips “and the lying?”

“i didn’t mean to” jessie says, now leaning back “it just came out and i don’t know why i didn’t correct myself”

her reasoning makes you feel worse. you think you maybe would’ve preferred her purposely lie and stick to it, rather than stick to an accidental lie for almost four years. tears begin to well in your eyes as you watch jessie cast her gaze to the floor in front of her.

“so you kept up with an accidental lie for almost four years because… what? because you couldn’t tell me the truth afterwards? because you didn’t think it was anything? like, what was the reason, jessie”

“it’s not like i thought about it!” jessie stresses “it never came up again so i forgot about it”

“until you saw her again, right?” you spit at her, folding your arms over your chest.

your girlfriend stays silent and rolls her head on her neck. she continues to not say anything as she scuffs her shoes against the floor.

you can’t help but laugh at yourself. you feel stupid, so, so stupid. “it took you less than twenty four hours to, what?, second guess your four year long relationship? are you—”

“i’m not second guessing shit” she says, now looking at you “don’t even start with that”

“start with what jessie?” you raise your voice and push off the wall “start with the fact that there’s every chance that i’m just a rebound you got in too deep with? that we were seeing eachother and you weren’t over her?”

jessie pinches her eyebrows together “you weren’t a rebound! i wasn’t even looking to date when janine introduced us—”

“because you were still in love with her”

“jesus christ, will you let me finish?” jessie grits out.

“when you start telling me something that’s gonna make me believe that our whole relationship isn’t just because i was the first person shoved under your nose when you got to london” you sneer at her.

jessie deflates, her hands going lax by her sides “is that seriously what you think?” she asks quietly “that i only started dating you because you were there?”

“what am i supposed to think, jess? that it was a coincidence that we started dating just after you get out of an almost three year long relationship?” tears fall down your face at the thought of janine introducing the two of you so jessie could get over her ex. you turn your face away from her and sniffle.

“it was a coincidence” jessie stresses “i didn’t want to date anybody, and janine thought i needed friends outside of the club so she introduced us. that’s seriously it” she says as she approaches you carefully.

you look at her through tears “did seeing her again bring up old feelings?”

jessie hesitates and bites the inside of her cheek before looking away. you don’t try to get her to look at you, don’t try to get her to answer you quicker, you simply just wait. it’s only now that you get to fully take in what she looks like. her unbrushed bed head, her oversized ‘i heart aus’ t-shirt she wears to sleep, the way one sock is kind of flopping off her foot whilst the other is still on. the version of jessie in front of you is your normal, your safe space.

this version of jessie likes her eggs made a particular way and buries herself under the covers to avoid the sun when she wants to sleep in; she wakes you up with kisses all over you face and tells you corny jokes, and she doesn’t have the weight of a nation’s expectations on her shoulders. she’s carefree and so full of love that sometimes she doesn’t know what to do with it.

this jessie is the love of your life, and right now you feel like you’re watching her slip through your fingers.

when you watch silent tears fall down her face you know you’ve got your answer. you shut your eyes “right” you say coldly before turning around and heading for your shared bedroom.

jessie’s head snaps towards your retreating form “wait, y/n!”

“jessie i can’t” you say as you grab a bag out of your closet. you begin pulling clothes you know you’ll need: training, home and away kits, socks, underwear, pyjamas, a few shirts and jeans. you count them in your head and then stuff them in your bag just as jessie comes into the room.

“what are you doing!?” she half shouts as she closes the wardrobe “can you please let me explain before you take off?”

you don’t stop walking around your shared bedroom “i just gave you a chance to and you couldn’t look me in the eye” you spit at her, not turning around to look at her.

a fresh wave of tears fall down jessie’s face “i was trying to figure out what to say, y/n, please!”

she walks around the bed to you, putting her hand over yours when you open your bedside drawer to grab your watch. her hand is warm and soft wrapped around yours and you are filled with the overwhelming urge to give into her. you turn your head to face her.

“p-please” she stutters “i swear, i have an explanation for all of it” she whispers to you, trying to hold eye contact through teary eyes “please don’t leave”

you own lip trembles “i need to, for a few days at least” you whisper back to her, pulling your hand out from under hers “it’ll give you time to think about whatever it is you want to say”

“but i don’t need time, i—”

“i do” you interrupt “you have no idea what finding this out has done to me, jess. i just need to step back”

the canadian looks defeated as you move to your bathroom to pack up your toiletries bag. she’s rooted to her spot and find herself wondering how she got here when it was only yesterday morning the two of you were rolling around in bed giggling.

she harshly wipes her tears as you slip your shoes on. the sight of her makes you want to drop everything and wrap your arms around her, make sure she knows that you still love her, but you can’t. you can’t stand here and deny yourself time apart, even if it is just a day or two.

“i’m gonna go stay with sam” you sigh “i just— i really think we both need a little bit of time”

jessie helplessly nods “okay” she whispers as you pick up your bag “i love you”

you bite your lip and turn to her, the weight of the duffel bag in your hands suddenly getting a lot heavier “i love you too” you whisper back to her, hopefully not for the last time.

[1d1195]

Thursday

Read Tuesday and extras here | 2.8k words

From me: based on this ask/suggestion

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst

Summary: A lot of things are back to normal. Like coffee dates, movie nights, and sharing a skin routine with Niall. But some things are a little uncharted. Like onions, bookmarks, dishes, and exes.

“What’s your favorite day of the week?” She asked.

“Friday of course,” Niall rolled his eyes. “What else would it be?”

“Saturday, obviously,” Harry stared at his friend as he brought a glass of water from the kitchen. He held it out to her. “Here, kitten.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, taking a long sip before Harry took it back from her and placed it on the coffee table in front of them. “Thursday is my favorite,” she told the pair. Harry fell into the seat beside her, his hand immediately resting on the inside of her leg, squeezing her thigh gently.

“Thursday!?” Niall’s eyebrows pinched together. “You still have a whole workday left! Why would you like Thursday?”

She shrugged. “Just... it’s a good day, you know? It’s anticipating for Friday. It’s nice.”

Harry stared at her dreamily. She could feel him look at her in her peripheral. It had been a while since someone looked at her the way he was looking at her. It hadn’t been long since they admitted they still loved each other. Only a few months. They settled back into the same normal routines they had when they dated the first time. “S’cute, love,” he squeezed her leg. “What movie are we doing tonight, Ni?”

“What number are we on?”

Harry shrugged. “Oh, I haven’t a clue. Think Mitch is keeping us on track.”

Since they started seeing one another again, she hadn’t come to one of their weekly movie nights. It made her feel better about not being overbearing and needy. But Harry invited her every week. Niall too. You don’t have to be here because of Harry. I want you here just as much as he does—maybe more because I’m ready to tie you to a chair to stay, Princess.

So finally, after countless invites, she finally caved. Not that it was hard. She was excited to be there. Their group of friends had been making their way through the Best Picture Oscar winners since the award’s beginning. It was cool to see how things changed over time, and it was really adorable to hear the way Harry talked about it. “I don’t have to stay for movie night,” she reminded Harry quietly. “If you want time with just your friends without—”

Although his mouth opened to protest, it wasn’t Harry that answered. “Princess, don’t be ridiculous,” Niall rolled his eyes. “Course we want you here. Help us pick out food.”

Niall cast his phone to the TV screen and was scrolling through the nearby places that would deliver to them in the next hour when their other friends arrived. “M’feeling pizza I think,” Harry suggested.

“Pizza it is,” Niall selected their favorite pizza place and began selecting way more pizza than seven people could ever eat.

“Make sure there’s one without onions.”

Her heart fluttered that Harry remembered that about her after all their time apart. Part of her thought about just going with it, never admitting the change in her palate. But she didn’t want to lie. “Actually,” she cleared her throat. “I like onions now,” she admitted almost shyly. Like she wasn’t allowed to change her mind.

“Y’do?” Harry blinked and turned fully toward her. A delighted smirk on his lips. It made the dimple in his left cheek pop through prominently.

She nodded. “Not sure how it happened. Think I accidentally ate something with onions in it and didn’t pick them out like a five-year-old. It actually tasted good. I like French onion soup now and everything,” she explained.

Harry’s smile grew, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead as if it was a bigger to do than it was; like winning an award or something. “I told y’that y’would like them,” he chuckled. She rolled her eyes and buried her face in his chest. “So brave,” he teased.

“Oh, shut it,” she laughed. “Did you at least warn them that I would be here?” She asked.

“Sarah is really looking forward to seeing you,” Niall once more took the lead in explaining. “She is tired of being the only girl around.”

While it wasn’t fully said, she knew Harry had been seeing a girl. In one way or another. It wasn’t a bad thing, she wasn’t judging. But Harry got exceedingly cagey about it whenever she tried to broach the subject. “What about—”

Harry squeezed her thigh again. A silent directive to stop her question. Niall smirked as Harry cut off her inquiry (and Niall’s impending quip). “Y’could bring a girl home, y’know,” Harry reminded him.

“She’ll be so jealous of our princess here,” Niall winked making her laugh. It really felt so easy. So simple. Just being back where she was supposed to be. Like nothing had changed at all. “Holding out for the one, Harold. You should know something about that,” he said knowingly and finished placing the pizza order. His phone screen disappeared from the TV, and he left the room.

She didn’t want Harry to feel like he had to hide part of his life from her. They were adults. He was allowed to see anyone he wanted. “You know...you can talk about someone you dated—”

“We didn’t date.”

“—pardon, fucked,” she smirked.

Harry rolled his eyes, his cheeks turning a shade redder than she thought he needed to turn. It didn’t bother her that Harry had a life outside of her. He was unbelievably handsome. Unbelievably sweet. He deserved to be happy. She wasn’t jealous of someone else in his life when she had no claim to him in any way. “I jus’ don’t think s’polite t’talk ‘bout her t’you,” he shrugged. “S’rude.”

“Okay,” she nodded encouragingly. “If that’s how you feel, I just wanted you to know you could if you wanted to.”

Harry seemed a little less on edge about it after that, but she noted his grip on her thigh loosened. Even though she kinda liked how his fingers felt pressed into her skin. She figured she could tell him later when they were alone... and her clothes weren’t in the way.

*

They sat in the very coffee shop she used to work in. It was nice to get out and have an inexpensive date—even with two grown up jobs it was smart to sit and relax in the comfy seats and sip coffee they loved so much. It made her heart flutter that Harry still knew her order after so much time. Or maybe that was a comment on her stubbornness to change. “You should try the hazelnut drink they just got,” she smiled at him as they stood in line, holding hands. “It made me think of you.” The overlap of seeing him after two years and the new drink reminded her of all the things he loved and all the things she remembered loving about him. He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek.

Once seated, Harry stretched his legs; they invaded her space beneath the table. But it didn’t seem to bother her. He admired her concentration on the book she was reading; the little furrow of her brow, the way her lips pursed together. She was so adorable, and Harry didn’t think she even knew. Beneath the table he nudged her leg with his knee, and she glanced up at him. He could tell she didn’t want to look up from her book. But he smiled at her. A smile that made her heart and stomach twist because he was so Harry, so perfect. It made her smile back.

“Harry!”

Both their heads turned to the voice. But after a brief moment, she turned to look at Harry. Trying to piece together the recognition. She came up short, but Harry stood and greeted the girl with a hug politely. There was a little flutter of jealousy that pinched her heart and she waited patiently.

“Kitten, this is Hailey,” his voice was neutral.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she cleared her throat and stood.

Hailey was beautiful. There was no question about it. When she left, she was going to ask about a thousand questions. Starting with if she was a model. Then asking Harry if she knew what kind of hair products she used.

“Same to you,” she smiled politely. Her voice took on a new tone as she turned back to Harry. It was obvious her problem wasn’t with her, for which she was grateful. “Hadn’t heard from Harry in a while.”

“That’s my fault,” Harry’s voice was low. As if he was exhausted. She could tell Harry wanted out of this conversation. Curiosity was getting the better of her as she tried to imagine if she had ever met Hailey prior or heard the name in any stories Niall had told.

“How long have you been seeing each other?” Hailey asked. She noticed her tone was getting harsher by the second. Her glare bored into Harry’s face.

She opened her mouth to say, ‘a few months,’ and get her attention away from her boyfriend. But Harry beat her to the punch. “Two and a half years,” he told her.

Hailey quirked an eyebrow up and she tilted her head at him curiously because while true, technically, there was a large two-year gap between the ‘two’ and the ‘half’ part of his sentence. But it did make her heart happy that he was willing to let the gap slide into oblivion. It would definitely require explanation, but it was nice.

Hailey looked at Harry for a long moment. “That’s news to me.”

“Hailey,” he said quietly.

“I can let you guys talk if—”

“S’fine, kitten,” he said quickly.

Hailey looked irritated beyond belief. She wished she fully knew why because right now the only thing she felt was overwhelming uncomfortableness. Quietly she sat in her seat and folded the page of her book down. Harry did a double take and shook his head before turning his attention back to Hailey.

“You ghosted me,” she said.

Harry closed his eyes. “I did,” he admitted. “But we were never...”

“I deserved more than that.”

“You did,” he agreed. It clicked. The girl that Harry wasn’t dating. The girl he was fucking in some arrangement that she didn’t know about. Her cheeks felt warm just knowing what happened. Hailey looked pissed. Her eyes were fueled with anger. “But we weren’t exclusive.”

She continued to glare at him. “You’re an ass.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded in agreement.

It almost seemed like Hailey was mad Harry was agreeing with her. Not that she could fully look at the scene unfolding in front of her to truly gauge it. She was taking extreme interest in her coffee cup. Hailey grabbed Harry’s cup of coffee, pulled the lid off and she closed her eyes as Harry braced for the cold liquid to cover him. “Good luck,” Hailey said in her direction then marched off to the exit. Once out of the shop and everyone was watching Harry drip from head to toe, she jumped into action. She asked her former coworkers for some towels, and she felt her face heat with embarrassment on behalf of Harry. If she wasn’t there, maybe that wouldn’t have happened. Perhaps Hailey would have had a conversation with Harry that she fully deserved and she wouldn’t have felt the need to dump coffee all over him.

“Kitten,” Harry murmured as she dabbed at his clothes and cleaned up the puddle at his feet. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

She smiled weakly. “It’s okay. Are you alright?”

“M’so embarrassed,” he admitted.

She shook her head. “Let’s get out of here,” she squeezed his arm.

“But our date...”

She laughed quietly. “I mean, I wanted you out of your clothes anyway,” she teased.

Harry chuckled, his cheeks turning slightly pink with her flirtatious joke, and looked at his feet. “Yeah? You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” She asked. There was a long pause as she gathered their belongings, returned the towels to the front where she thanked them profusely. Then she held the door open for Harry, sticky with coffee. He shrugged.

“I didn’t...” He sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you about her.”

“Why?”

“Because, kitten. If I knew y’were fucking some guy for the last two years without any strings attached I would be jealous out of m’mind,” he explained. “I’d be jealous if there were strings.”

She made a mental note to keep her ex to herself. “Well... I’m not mad. I wish you had told me so you could have ended things—”

“She was getting attached. I didn’t want a relationship. I started cutting it off weeks before I heard from you. I had only seen her once or twice in the months prior. She texted every now and again. I didn’t want a relationship,” he repeated. She got a jacket he had left in his backseat to lay over the driver’s seat so he wouldn’t have a car that smelled like sour coffee for the rest of time. They could always wash the jacket.

“No?” She asked. Harry took his seat and waited until she was in the passenger seat to continue.

He shook his head. “Now that I have y’back... I don’t know why we broke up,” he tapped his hands on the steering wheel. Her heart fluttered. “S’obvious now. M’not... I don’t know, kitten. Dating didn’t make sense after you. I tried. Really,” he assured her. “S’jus’... you were... you are special.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and felt the heat warm her skin with adoration and embarrassment. “You don’t have to pretend like you didn’t have a life while I wasn’t around.”

“I know. And I was wrong for how I handled Hailey,” he assented.

“Maybe, yes. But she didn’t need to pour coffee all over you.”

“At least it was iced,” Harry chuckled. She smiled. “Are we okay?”

“Of course,” she giggled.

Harry sighed with relief and grabbed her hand. He kissed her knuckles. Turning the car on and backing out of the spot. “Since when d’you fold the page of y’book like a serial killer?”

*

Harry always sucked at doing dishes. When she stayed at his house in the beginning of their relationship it drove her nuts to no end. He used too many and piled them high. Then he would leave them without soaking for so long it was miserable. It wasn’t even her responsibility to do the dishes but she felt like it was after he did all the cooking.

Which was why when he finished making dinner for them on a night in, she was floored to see him doing the dishes right away. Soaking and scrubbing them as she had done so many times over.

“You don’t like dishes,” she mumbled in surprise putting leftovers in Tupperware and condiments in the fridge.

He smirked glancing over his shoulder. “Didn’t realize how much I was torturing you all the years ago.”

She gaped. “What?”

“Niall went t’do the dishes after me shortly after we broke up,” he chuckled. “Said, ‘no wonder she broke up with you; I don’t even want t’be your roommate right now.’ Y’should have said something, kitten.”

Her cheeks felt warm. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“No,” he nodded firmly. “It was pretty bad, baby,” he nudged her with his hip.

She giggled and took the large pan that Harry had used to make stir fry (something that she had forgotten he made so well. It was delicious) and began drying it. “I don’t know, seemed like a bitchy thing to say ‘hey, I know you just made dinner for me and it was delicious and a lot of work, but I kind of want to strangle you for how difficult it is to wash the dishes.’”

He flicked water at her making her wrinkle her nose. The expression was adorable, made her look even cuter than she normally did so that Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “Y’can’t hide stuff like that, kitten. Y’do that and I won’t know m’gonna lose you so I can fix it,” he winked.

“I hope you don’t lose me,” she mumbled.

He chuckled. “Whatcha say, love?” He wrapped his arms around her waist. His hands were still wet and he avoided her shirt as much as possible, holding her slightly awkwardly but it was cute. “Think m’gonna be stupid enough t’lose y’twice?”

She giggled and shook her head. “Not if I have a say in it,” she draped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him. He seemed to melt into the kiss—forgetting his hands were wet and getting the back of her shirt wet as well.

Which was fine by him.

He wanted her out of her shirt anyway.

—

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