#RIPS MY HAIR OUT AND FALLS TO MY KNEES AND TURNS INTO A PUDDLE AND WEEPS AND SOBS AND WAILS AND AND AND | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

royac · 2 months

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reassemble

"I toss, turn beneath the waves A silent victim of the depths Cast aside I'm scrambling to catch my... I can't find my way out as I'm descending My path remains unclear as the water overtakes me"

When something hit the back of his head, he looked back with a smile, a ball of snow hidden inside of his cloak.

"William... you're gonna have to better than that, my love." Their smile grew sinister as they quickly spun around and threw a ball of their own toward the hiding spot he knew his husband had been hiding. When he heard the man laughing, he knew he'd got him.

"Char, come on, you didn't even -" his voice was cut off as a large pile of snow fell on top of him, causing him to grunt as he fell. Charles hadn't been aiming for Will - he was hoping to knock the snow above their house down. He laughed as he walked over, grinning from ear to ear. As William dug himself out of the snow, a pair of green eyes met Charles'. While they were laughing, William was not.

"Oh, my love, don't pout," he kneeled down and put his hands against William's face, gaze softening, and said, "You're getting better each time."

"Yeah, but you always beat me. Can't you let me win for once? As your husband I think I deserve to win one time!" William spoke in a monotone, eyebrows furrowed, but his frustrated expression gave way to laugher as Charles helped him stand.

"If I let you win, then it won't be as satisfactory when you actually win. Come on," they brushed the snow out of his hair, "you can't trick a changeling. Especially not me. I know you too well."

"You do always keep me on my toes... don't worry, I'll figure something out..." William brushed the rest of the snow off of himself and looked up at the sky, squinting, "Well, that's a plan yet to be made. We should head home. It's supposed to be a full moon tonight..." Charles joined the man in looking at the sky.

"You certainly are correct. Come, let's get you home before someone gets hurt." He turned and smiled once more, grasping William's hand and leading him forward. Though... as he walked, he realized how quiet it was. Was that right? It was winter, yes, but surely they would have still heard the birds that chose to weather the snow.

Hmm.

In that moment, Charles' life changed forever.

Bells rang through the air and Charles felt the blood drain from their face. He and William spared a brief moment to look at each other before they both started running.

"Char, we have to get back to the house. We have to fight. Dammit, why haven't I still figured out how to pick when I'm a fucking wolf? That'd be a lot more useful now than -" Charles felt his arm get yanked back as William stopped running. The change in momentum caused him to lose his footing and fall into the snow. They quickly spun around to see what caused William to stop running and his breath hitched in his throat.

William looked down at Charles for just a moment before his hands moved toward his chest, a dark puddle of blood seeping from underneath his shirt... mixed with something else. Looking back at Charles, William opened his mouth, only for a thick black liquid to fall out. He dropped to his knees. Charles scrambled to his feet and ran back to William.

"WILLIAM!" The scream that left their mouth was otherworldly as the changeling ran to their husband. What happened? What just happened? When he got to William, the man had fallen over in the snow, gasping and wheezing.

"Oh my Gods, no, no, no, no," Shaking hands pulled William up as Charles looked side to side, searching for the attacker as explosions and screams could be heard in the distance. Their eyes frantically searched as they pulled William behind a stone fence, but there was nothing in front of them that they could see. It was as if something had struck William from a great distance.

Once they were behind the stone fence, Charles ripped William's cloak away, tearing through the layers of winter clothing before he could see his chest. As the final layer of fabric was shed, Charles gasped weakly when he saw William's chest. He had never seen anything like it. Black and blue veins darted out from the wound as that same thick, black liquid fell out of it. What is this? Was this werewolf blood? In the last 5 years, Charles had never seen William bleed - it didn't occur to him that it could possibly be an affect of Khamus' magic.

"C...Ch," William attempted to speak, but moaned in pain before he could finish. Charles wrapped the other man in his arms, heart racing. He took his own cloak off, a dark green robe with gold stitching, and attempted to apply pressure to the wound to stop it from... bleeding?

The liquid didn't stop.

"Char... oh no," William muttered, eyes fluttering, "It hurts," he moaned.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, oh Gods, I don't know what to do," they peeked around the stone wall to see if they could see any of the fortress guards - surely a cleric could help? A paladin? Charles began trembling as he realized how helpless he was. Neither him nor William had health potions. Why would they? They never left the fortress. They never fought anyone.

"Please, please, please, no, please, you can't leave me, I need you," Charles' face crumbled as their hot tears stung their cold cheeks. William lifted a hand to Charles' cheek.

"I..." he coughed again, gurling on the black liquid, as Charles held him. "lo...ve..." His hand suddenly dropped as his body fell limp.

"...William? Will?" Charles looked into William's vivid green eyes, which had already started to dull. The liquid slowed, but continued pouring out of his mouth and the wound on his chest.

The changeling screamed.

They weren't sure how long they had stayed there, cradling William, but they realized that voices were getting closer. Blinking away the tears, they looked over the stone fence again as a group of citizens ran past them, screaming.

"It's Frankesh! He's back! Run!"

...Frankesh?

Moving away from the wall, back to William's body, Charles buried his face into his chest and sobbed. And screamed. They felt so powerless. Despair melted into vicious anger the longer they sat there. Looking toward the sky, Charles began to pray. To what, he wasn't sure of, but he knew that he couldn't just sit here and die. William wouldn't want that - he'd never forgive him.

"Please, I will do whatever task you command of me. I beg of you, I can't stay this weak. I can't stay powerless. I can't die. I have to kill them." His fingers grasped William's cloak and he leaned forward, placing his head against William's chest.

"I need - I will have retribution. Please."

"Sana termara en' templa amin mela lle ama handasse Ascarerea."

The shock caused him to recoil from William, gasping. Where had that come from? Was that William? They turned to look at William's face, but it lay motionless as ash from the surrounding fires settled onto his lifeless frame.

"Yala onna tira ten' rashwe! amin nauva auta yeste'."

There it was again. Charles' felt their heart racing as they looked around, trying to pinpoint where the noise had come from before they realized... it was in their head. Something was speaking to them. They looked up.

"I will do whatever task you command of me. Grant me the power to avenge him." His voice was but a whisper as he spoke, a sick, twisted feeling rising in his stomach.

"Atost en' entula orme malia ten' yulna elea i'dolen cormamin lindua ele lle."

Charles had never heard this language before. He wasn't sure what the being was saying, but he felt compelled to answer.

"Yes."

#dndverse

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mischiefmanaged71 · 2 years

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When We Were Young - Druig x Reader

Summary: The fear of being alone and miscommunication can lead us to where we stand now. With the building regret each day, we have to live with our actions.

Author’s Note: Based on requests from @merceret @nyxphie that I took creative liberties with. Pick a song, take some prompts and voila, here we are. My inbox is open for requests xx. I write angst, fluff, action.

Pairing: Druig x fem! Eternal reader

Warning: angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.7K

Masterlist

The streaks of the raindrops piling along the windowpane drew her eyes to the gloomy and still city outside the apartment. The cold seeped through the cracks under the door causing her to wrap around her knees and glance at the scattered lights illuminating the sky. A warm gaze overtook her vision with the embrace of the sun meeting the horizon. The settling calm of the city peeked inward, instilling a sombre feeling within her. A glance around the apartment and she settled into the comfort of the cushions, staring into the abyss of the crowd below. The wandering steps, the crowding of leaves in the breeze along with the noises of the night.

Her attempts at wading off the cold were futile as she shrugged and ripped herself from the couch to dart toward her bedroom. Feet dragging into the room, her eyes flicker and lock onto a locket resting on the dresser. She doubles back and squints in confusion, picking it with gentle hands to caress the front. The sealed gold cover, a shiny remnant in the barren apartment clouded by darkness. Her fingers travel along the luxurious casing, turning it over to glance over the engraved words on the back.

‘Even apart,

Always yours.’

Her breath hitches as she pauses, hands hesitantly dropping to her side. The doorway to her living room becomes interesting as she stares indifferently, a chilling feeling rioting through her as she freezes in her spot. A sense of longing forever-more for someone’s presence. The sound of their voice, their comforting smile - their hold. She ducks her head sorrowfully, clutching the locket to her chest to resign into herself. Her eyes shut, clenching to hold the tears at bay from falling.

Crestfallen and regretful was where they were both left in the end. An exchange of words and before they realised, a departure of hesitant hearts as their threads drifted further apart. From the first moment, she was entranced by Druig; the way he talked, the way he moved. Whether from his grace and caring demeanour, he was dear to her and before she knew it, it was more than simply platonic. It became something rather unfamiliar, apparently akin to something like love. It was a crescendo crashing into her as she fell in deep into the unknown, unaware of the person on the other side. It was in his tender hold and the ensuing feeling that she knew her thoughts were jumping ahead, rather it was a requited love embedded here.

Y/N’s abilities allowed her to control her body, not limited to shapeshifting into another person, or turning invisible to blend into one’s environment, or even telekinesis to fly and manipulate other objects. Druig noted a shield around her mind, one secured with doubt and a subtle lining of fear for the judgement lingering in stares. The thought, although he regretfully dismissed it, of her shapeshifting abilities brought the question of her true self. Despite the seven thousand years the Eternals had spent on Earth, Druig recognised a protective barrier she held up before others. Over time, he would come to know the pieces to her and attempt at peeling back that hesitant nature.

But ever since their departure, her days were riddled by memories and questions of where it all went wrong. She was far too scared to face her fears and climb out of the concealment to face herself and the resignation to a lonesome existence.

***

Her feet stomped through the puddles after Druig as he wandered off into the night. The street lights illuminated his departing figure and the back of his head, the rain dampening his hair and clothes. Y/N quickened her pace, darting to grab Druig’s hand and draw his attention away, “Where are you going?”

“Just leave me alone right now.” he huffed.

She choked out a laugh, “I’m not gonna leave you. What was that?”

“Why do you have to question everything?” He narrowed his eyes.

She blinked in confusion, rain streaking down their faces, “Am I not allowed to worry about you?”

“Not where it doesn’t concern you.” he retorted.

“How is any of this okay?” she demanded as Druig whips his hand away from her grasp.

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I care about you and it seems you couldn’t care less!”

Y/N released a shaky breath and paused, but Druig's voice intervened, “Don’t say this right now, when you couldn’t say it before.”

A pained expression takes over her features while she shakes her head, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re afraid.” Druig observed as she exhaled deeply, looking around before returning to Druig’s attentive gaze to entertain his perspective.

“Afraid of what?”

“Of being alone.” he spits the words from his mouth, although it leaves an awful taste in his mouth, “You always have and yet, any time someone gets close, you shut down.”

Y/N snorted, eyebrows raising in response, “You have a lot of insight into me for someone as oblivious as yourself.”

“Maybe we have to accept the inevitable.” Druig stares at her exhausted expression.

“Maybe you should just leave then.” she seethed.

In a moment's breath, the fury within aggressively builds until it spills into the air. Regret cut the air as she sharply exhaled and stared at Druig blankly. The air stilled that night and she paused, darting a hand out to dismiss it, “I-”

Druig waved his hand and shook his head, “-Save your breath.”

“Druig-”, she pleaded, voice shaking. Her heart leapt within her chest as he stepped back and ran his hand through his hair. The turn of his back to her riddled a new pain in her as she raised a hand in the air to pause, to forget the slip of her mouth.

“Was it worth it?” he muttered over his shoulder.

“Don't go. Please don't leave.” her voice begged, a silent whisper of a breath puffing from her lips. The warm breath piled in front of her eyes and floated upward, disappearing with the wind along with the departing back of someone she used to know.

She clenches her eyes shut as sobs rack her body and she caves in. The tears running down wet her cheeks as she fights for breath, hunching on her knees to lean for support no longer there. Y/N's hands float to her face to assemble the last pieces of herself together. A probability significantly reduced with the absence of her other part - a lost piece; a consequence of her own making.

***

Y/N's eyes follow her shoes stepping through the puddles, the patter of raindrops falling against the raised umbrella. Hand tucked into her pocket, she wanders the glistening streets of the city in reminiscence of another time. A sigh escapes Y/N as her eyes catch a couple entangled in an embrace under the shade of a cafe. They entangle their hands, she rests her head on his shoulder and he glances down in adoration to lead them through the rain.

Her eyes dart to the gloomy ground, raindrops hitting the ground as the scene comes into its complete perspective. The stilting silence of the voice in her head as the pattering takes over. The wet sensation hitting her face becomes apparent with Y/N’s head glancing upward to the sky. She blinks and glances down at the umbrella at her side, a sigh leaving her mouth as she closes her eyes in acceptance. A tear brims in her sight with the growing throb of her heart moving in tandem. Hair plasters to her head, a heavy sensation pulling it down as her jacket protects her clothes from the downpour.

With a flutter of her eyes, Y/N shakes her head and grips the umbrella in hand to turn back to her apartment. Her heart lurches in line with a step as she focuses on the figure in her sight. The familiar silhouette, the leather jacket and the swoop of his hair dampened by the rain. A pang rings in her chest at Druig standing a mere ten feet in front of her. She blinks, staring in shock as she searches for the words. Druig stares at her softly, just as she remembers the look of adoration. The rain piles down Druig’s face as he squints, focused solely on her, the way she looks exactly the same as the very last moment.

The yearn for his tender embrace pulls her back into the moment as her feet move of their own accordance toward him. Druig meets her steps, lurching forward to open his arms and hold her tightly. And finally that comforting feeling appears, returning a security as Y/N’s arms entangle in Druig’s hair. Her face rests in his neck, parting her hurried breaths into gasps as she withholds a sob. Druig’s hands encircle her waist, holding Y/N with all of the untold longing left behind. His eyes shut, tears piling with the rain under his chin and drifting off the back of her jacket. Time appears to pause for the moment between the couple, a hopeful reminder presented to recompense what was lost.

“I’m just sorry that-I have thought of a hundred ways I would have gone back to change it.”, tears escape her eyes as she shuts them, “I thought I lost you.”

Druig draws back, a grateful sigh breaking free as he rests his forehead against Y/N’s and caresses her neck, "I've waited so long for this..."

Her eyes flicker between Druig’s gaze and shoulder before settling on his eyes, “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, "You never let me down. I have part to blame.”

She glances into Druig’s eyes, barely a whisper that Druig could feel on his face, "I missed you.".

“You never lost me.” he shook his head, leaning his forehead against hers, “Never. I was always with you.”

“I’m yours.” he breathed out, filling her with a sense of comfort as she fell apart within his arms. Druig pulled her in, the pair welcoming the tranquil path of the rain against their intertwined figures.

TAGS:

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#druig #druig x reader #druig oneshot #eternals #eternals x reader #eternals fic #druig fic #druig x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel fic

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songbirdstyles · 3 years

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i’m on fire

summary: harry can’t keep his hands to himself after getting home from filming.

warnings: breeding kink, spanking, smut, slight fluff, pregnancy mention, slight dom/sub

word count: 2.7k

song inspo.: i’m on fire - bruce springsteen, girls on film - duran duran, tango in the night - fleetwood mac

You’ve hardly glanced in Harry’s eyes as he walks into the foyer of your London apartment before you feel your back slam into the door behind you - your head thumps against the wood and a groan threatens to rip out of your throat but he steals it before you get the chance to make the noise, lips on yours and tongue stuck down your throat.

Your hands have nowhere else to go but to bury themselves in his hair, fingers curling around chocolate brown curls and tugging until you hear the soft hitch in his breath that indicates just how much your grasp affected him. And, God, it did affect him, clearly, as he pushes his hips further against yours until you can feel the thick bulge in his pelvis grinding against the softness of your inner thigh as you hike your leg up to hoist around his waist. He moves one arm from where he had been grasping your throat as if to steady him to the present and his free hand grasps the underside of your thigh, pulling it further up his abdomen until the stretch in your muscle makes you whine.

“Jesus fuck, Har -”

He shuts you up from whatever you were going to mutter as he deepens the kiss, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as his knee grinds into your cunt until you’re crying out, goosebumps overtaking every square inch of your skin even through the thick sweatshirt adorning your upper half. You hadn’t had much of anything valuable to say, anyway, but it’s the principle of his interruption that makes you grasp for his cheeks and pull his face from yours with a heaving gasp.

“What’s gotten into you, hmm?”

You’d almost be concerned about Harry’s state if you couldn’t feel him rutting his cock against your thigh - his face is red and hot, eyes half lidded and breaths panting and desperate with each sharp inhale of oxygen. Christ, he looks a sight in the best way possible, and your instinct is to snap your thighs shut at the feeling that rushes through your body when he leans in, pressing soft lips to the sweaty skin of your throat so it muffles his response. His hands find the hem of your sweatshirt (or his sweatshirt, really) and you have half a mind to raise your arms so he can pull his lips from your neck to tug the cloth off of your torso before he finds a vein in your throat with a newfound vigor, sliding his other hand up to grope at your bare tit like a teenage boy whose only just seen one for the first time.

“Jus’ wanna love on you, hmm - wanna love on m’girl, please -”

“Hmm -”

He grunts, then. Nips at a vein in your neck that pulsates beneath his lapping tongue and you can’t help but giggle, however childlike and naive the noise sounds, but it’s enough for him to drop your thigh from around your waist - grab your cheeks and spin you around, pushing you backwards and backwards until your feet hardly feel like they’re moving, like you’re floating through the entryway of your apartment until you reach the kitchen. Though Harry loves fucking you every which way in your bed, huge and comfortable and soft, there’s something primal about pushing you against the kitchen table and ripping down your flannel sweatpants and burying himself into your heat that you know he secretly prefers over the sacred oasis of your bedroom.

Your lower back hits the edge of the island but it doesn’t stay there long before he turns you around, pushing the front of your body against the island until your body has folded in half to bend over the slab of marble, cold against your bare tits and stomach. Your boyfriend reaches around to the front of your sweatpants, then, arms wrapped around your thighs to shakily untie the knot that you had carefully tied in the strings of your pajama pants - his chest rises and falls against your back, hips still pushing into yours over and over and you jut your ass out to meet the grind of his cock against the clothed globes of your ass.

“Tied this thing fuckin’ tight, didn’t you?”

“Didn’t think you’d try to rip them off like an animal,” you retort, lifting your hips from where they’re firmly pressed to the edge of the island once Harry has successfully untied the knot, tugging your pants down the slope of your ass until they unceremoniously drop to a puddle at your feet, and you impatiently kick them off as Harry snaps the waistband of your panties just to hear you squeal. “Come on, Har - know you’re impatient -”

“Mmm.”

His finger slide beneath your panties, knuckle dragging through your slit that’s positively dripping with your slick, and you hear his low moan at how ready you are for him but the truth is you’ve been fucking dripping since he sent you a selfie of him in his makeup chair on set two days prior, hair messy and eyebrow arched, and it hadn’t even been a serious selfie but it still made your clit throb when you saw it. He’d been gone for nearly two weeks for filming when you’d gone a full year of almost never being apart and, fuck. Seeing him like that did things to you.

Harry’s yours, god fucking dammit. The thought makes you spread your thighs more for him as he dips his finger into your waiting hole, curling them up once just to watch how your back arches, how you moan as though you’d been coded to do so. It’s a game he likes to play, testing you, seeing just how needy you are for him even if all he wants to do is bury himself inside of you and fuck you until tears streak your cheeks and you’re begging him to cum.

No - no, he does want that, you know that. Wants it so bad it makes his knees weak, makes his stomach flip and turn, but he wants to watch you fall apart more than anything. Needs to know you want this just as much as he does, if not more, and if he were truly dedicated tonight he’d finger you until you came at least twice.

Neither of you can wait for that.

“Jesus fuck,” he breathes, voice raspy and full of sex and wanting and you could nearly sob as you feel him finally start to tug them hem of his joggers and boxers over his cock. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

But - but -

“Wait.”

He pauses. The head of his cock pokes at your ass in a way that would be funny if the revelation you’d just been hit with hadn’t hit you yet but it has, and you turn your head to press your cheek against the marble.

“Wha’?”

“I got my birth control thing out yesterday, the one in my arm. Remember - I told you I have to get it replaced. M’getting it tomorrow.”

There’s a pause in the kitchen, then, that hangs heavy over the both of you as you hear Harry’s shaky breathing behind you. And then -

“Did you just get harder?”

Harry exhales and even without seeing him you can picture the smile on his face as he presses his hips further into yours - “M’sorry - s’hot, babe.”

“Me not being on birth control is hot?”

“Yes,” and as if for extra reassurance of just what he means, Harry pushes his cock between your thighs until it’s slotted in your slit, head nudging your clit and making your legs quiver and shake as the stimulation rolls over you, eyes rolling back and head feeling fuzzy. “Makes me wanna fuck you so bad.”

There’s a quick consideration, you suppose - of the possibility of getting pregnant and the fact that you know there’s probably not even a single condom in your apartment for him to quickly put on, and even if there was the moment would die - and, come on, you’ve been together for almost 4 years and you’ve talked about kids in passing. If it happens it happens - that’s been your philosophy on it with him.

If it happens, it happens.

And it wouldn’t be the worst thing. Harry loves kids and you love kids and more than that, you love each other like the world depends on it - could never picture yourself living life without him at this point, and more than that, there is something hot about imagining him fucking you completely raw.

“Fuck, Har,” you moan, feeling your clit spasm as you grasp the edge of the counter. “I don’t care. Fuck me, pl -”

The final word doesn’t make it out of your mouth before Harry’s slamming himself inside of you and there’s no slow or sweet - it’s raw and unfiltered, giving you half a moment to adjust to his size after two full weeks without his cock, and it’s huge, feels like it’s splitting you open, like you’re back to the first time he’d ever fucked you and you’d had the fleeting question of whether it would even fit. It did fit, though, over and over and over, and yet the first stroke always makes you gasp.

Or scream.

“Oh, shit!” your resounding moan is shrill and punctuated by your legs just about giving up, knees collapsing until the only thing holding you up is Harry’s cock slamming into your cunt over and over, his nails digging into your bare shoulder blade before scratching up to tug at your hair. Forms it into a loose ponytail to tug at your hair like a damn whip, forcing your lazed face off of the marble until you’re staring into the darkened kitchen before you with blurry, watering eyes and a cunt that already feels fucked sore from just a few thrusts.

“Oh - god,” and Harry’s voice shakes and leaks with arousal, breath picking up as he pistons into you, cock stroking spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed before him, before he had fucked you slow and sweet and made you oh so aware of every sweet spot your cunt was filled with. God, he’s good at it, at a fast unforgiving pace that makes your head spin and your throat go raw with sobs, and you slam your palm against the island with a moan. “So fuckin’ tight f’me - made for me, right?”

You don’t respond, words feeling snatched from your tongue with every stroke of his dick into your pussy, milking every drop of arousal for all that it’s worth.

“This - this fuckin’ pussy - s’mine, isn’t it?” And when his seemingly rhetorical question goes unanswered there’s a sharp slap to the bottom of your ass that makes you shout, throat aching with the noise. “Whose fuckin’ pussy -”

“Yours!” It’s a near shriek that’s fucked out of you, and there’s another slap to your ass as you babble, “yours, Harry, yours - belongs to you -”

“Sure fuckin’ does,” and then he pulls out and you want to shout, to slam your head into the island because surely there’s nothing worse than the emptiness that fills you in the worst way possible, but just as you begin to whimper Harry is gripping your thigh, grasp tight enough that you’ll surely see bruises come morning, and he hikes your leg up over the edge of the island, exposing your near-abused pussy to him fully.

The tip of his cock runs along your slit, spreading your slickness around your folds and before you can plead with him to stop teasing he pushes back in, cock drawing along your velvet walls and eliciting a raspy moan that feels nearly involuntary at this point. His grasp on your hair is released and you nearly drop your head onto the island in surprise but then he’s leaning down, clothed chest pressed to your sweaty back, and his forearms snake beneath your neck until he’s nearly caging your neck in his arms, lips pressed to the back of your neck.

His hips pound against your ass, the sound of skin slapping skin nearly overpowering your choked moans and yet it doesn’t quite manage to - you’re sure your downstairs neighbors must think you’re being murdered with the volume of your sobs, or perhaps they’re used to hearing you get fucked within an inch of your life just about every night. Harry going away for filming surely must have been their own vacation from being awoken every night to yours and his pathetic moans mingled together -

But their vacation is over, goddammit.

“Harry, I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum,” you gasp, voice staccato and quiet, and his lips close around the back of your neck until you can feel him suckling at the skin, desperate to watch your skin erupt in hickeys from his work. “Please don’t - don’t stop -”

“Never gonna stop, baby,” is your boyfriend’s response, nearly cruel with how nonchalant he sounds, and his pace picks up where he’s sliding in and out of you with squelching wet sounds. “Cum for me - cum f’me and m’gonna blow it, baby, blow m’fuckin’ load into your cunt -”

You whimper, making a halfhearted attempt to reach behind you and wind your arm around Harry’s neck but you can’t muster up enough strength, feeling the orgasm building in your abdomen build and build like a rubber band about to snap. It’s a feeling that’s all too familiar when you’re with him, like you’re always one stolen smirk away from straddling him in front of everyone and having your way with him -

“M’gonna cum in you, baby,” Harry whispers, voice low and hot against your ear, words being shot directly into your eardrum and sending a chill up your spine that has nothing to do with the chilled temperature of the kitchen. “Gonna knock you up, right? S’what you want?”

“Yes - yes -”

“Y’want me to fill you with my cum, hmm? Get you fuckin’ pregnant? All round w’my fuckin’ kid, fill you ‘till you’re dripping -”

“Oh, God, Harry!”

“Cum on m’fucking cock. Wanna feel y’cum around me ‘fore I blow it, sweetie -” It’s all the encouragement you need, a moan mixed with a sob tearing out of your throat as you throw your head back, body nearly convulsing as your orgasm racks through you like a tsunami on shore - and it’s everything, like he’s set you aflame and left you to deal with the inferno, and not for the first time you think about how you’re fucking made for him, for this, cumming harder than you’ve ever cum in your life, the rubbr band snapping and sending waves of pleasure through you -

“Fuck!”

Your orgasm hasn’t even come close to ending when Harry’s hips slam firm against yours, pressed taut against your ass and you feel him, feel every curve and vein of his cock against your walls and your mind goes blank as he cums, warm spurts filling you every which way and it only makes it better when he moves one of his arms from beneath your neck, snaking his hand underneath your body so he can shakily rub three fingers against your clit, milking your orgasm for all that it’s worth. You clamp down on him, every sensation too much and yet not enough in the best way possible, and you swear you see nothing but stars.

There’s a beat of silence, filled only with your heaving breaths and his soft gasps for air mixing with each other in the thick, suddenly humid air of the kitchen. Harry’s chest is sweaty against your back even through his shirt, lips still pressing warm, wet kisses to the back of your neck just underneath your hairline.

“Fuck,” you breathe, soreness already settling in your throat as you swallow, somewhat regretting your vehement moans and cries and shouts but somehow not at all - “Should probably go shower.”

“Not yet.” “Not yet -?”

“Stay here for a few minutes,” your boyfriend murmurs against your damp, sweaty skin, tongue poking out to lick a thin stripe from your collarbone up to the side of your throat, lips pressing just underneath your ear. “Gotta make sure it works. Gotta make sure you’re not leaving this fuckin’ kitchen without m’fuckin’ kid inside you, baby.”

TAGLIST

@hoeeforstyles @pcterparxer @hhh33-3l @saintsmotels @ficrecrry @bunny-munchkin-luvs-music @masumiyetimziyanoldu @luxplsr @strawberryystyles @shawnxstyles @harryslilkat @harryhub @golden-hoax @repostcentral @harry-styles-l @mintchipstyles @fallinforstyles @zhangyixingxing1 @goldenxstyles7 @tobefalling @hslotcherry @alwaysclassyeagle @galacticferns @nineteenfiftyone @havethetimeeofyourlifee @sstarkme @stylesfics-xx @thecitiesintheseas @harrypinks @morethanamelodyy @lovesickrry @prettymuchxarreaga

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #if your url didnt show up idk what to tell u #also i wrote this in one hour.#which is why its arse but i just needed to post something bc i felt bad

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plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

Purgatory is Sweet Punishment

Request: Pls let Solomon and Simeon use mc like a fleshlight 😳😩👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻✨ I want to see her covered in their mess and overstimmed and begging for them

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: a short thing!! I hope you like it:)

Simeon watches from the doorway, his mouth pulled into a thin line as he watches you whine under Solomon, your mouth open and eyes rolled back to your head with tears shining. He hates the feeling of heat that bubbles in his stomach, golden blood that rushes through his body and settles below him.

He hadn’t meant to walk in on the both of you during your more intimate time- not that he knew what was going on. He simply thought that the two of you were studying but perhaps he should have known that the two of you were in the process of something else.

Solomon pulls out of you, his cock dripping with your sweetened nectar, as you lay under him, your hands reaching for his forward, your voice broken as you call for him to come closer. “Solo,” you whine, thrusting your hips upwards. “Don’t go, please, Solo, don’t go.” You roll your hips and clench your thighs together and Simeon finds himself enchanted by the way your cunt flutters.

“For someone who chastised us, you seem to be pretty interested,” Solomon teases, turning around and Simeon quickly averts his eyes away from you. His own cock bobs and drips with cream- either from you or him, the angel isn’t sure. “You can always join us, you know.” Solomon’s hands slip away from your grip, and he gently slides his hands down your thighs, curving against the fat and sinking his fingers into you. “They won’t mind.”

“They’re hypnotized,” Simeon hisses out, his leg jerking and causing a ripple effect where he can finally move. “It isn’t right. What if it weren’t me who walked through the door? How would you have explained yourself then? I can barely contain my rage as it is.” He finds himself at the edge of the bed, your body hot enough for him to feel without even touching you.

Solomon’s smile doesn’t falter, it only twitches upwards, his hands now gripping your thighs leaving you whining at the mere contact of it. “They consented. We’re both into this. Want to see?” Solomon taps the center of your forehead, and you take a deep breath, slowly blinking away as if a light is being shone in your face. “Are you back with us?” You nod, licking at your lips, your mouth slightly parted as you turn to face where Simeon stands.

“Oh no,” you whisper under your breath, quickly turning your gaze back to Solomon. “Why did you bring me back now?” You hissed, your hands going to cover your burning face. “Solo, please tell me this is some weird hologram that you made,” you whine beneath your palms.

“It’s the real deal,” he answers, grabbing your wrists and pulling them away from your face. His hand lets go of your wrist, letting it fall to your chest where you desperately try to cover your chest. His hand cups your cheek and forces you to turn where Simeon stands. “Come on, don’t cry.”

“You’re the absolute worst,” you mutter, your eyes closing tightly, creases appearing between your brows.

“Look at that, Simeon, they're crying. Won’t you comfort them?” Solomon asks, kissing at your knuckles. “Could you really stand to see them cry?” He doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s pleased, the glee in his voice so thick that it makes Simeon’s face burn.

He stands still, his muscles stiff as he decides what to do. He may be an angel, but he knows what will happen if he decides to comfort you. You are his temptation, the sin that burns under his skin and haunts his every waking moment and he knows he isn’t strong enough to refuse you- especially when you’re in such an exposed and vulnerable state.

But he can’t stay. He can’t risk losing himself just because he felt that he had to wipe away your tears. Simeon can’t risk falling- he isn’t sure he’d be able to handle the heartbreak that would come from it. Yet, how can he say no to you, how can he deny you when you’re staring up at him with wide and glassy eyes and puffed lips from too many kisses.

“Simmy,” you sniffle, “please.” He isn’t sure what you’re asking of him and he doesn’t think you are either. Your hands go to clasp to the little excess of his pants, clutching it feebly in your hand and his resolve is gone.

He lowers himself to his knees, his hand replacing where Solomon held you, and he smiles gently at you. “It’s okay, my little lamb, there’s no need to cry.” The words only seem to have the opposite effect, thick tears grazing past his fingertips. “I’m not your judge, it’s okay. Please, don’t worry yourself.” He keeps his eyes on you, watching as your face scrunches when Solomon massages his cock against your clit, his hands held tightly at your hips. Simeon’s fingers brush away strands of hair that stick to your temple. “Just look at me, okay?” His mouth snaps closed when yours opens up to release a sultry moan, that is breathed against his lips. He is left staring at your face as Solomon pushes into you, curses falling past your lips as your hand goes to hold Simeon’s hand, gripping it tightly with your nails.

Your name is called by the man who is deflowering you and you turn to him, your eyes heavy with lust as your chest bounces. “Do you want Simeon to join us? Hm? Do you want Simeon to fuck that pretty, pink cunt of yours?” You nod, wrapping your legs around Solomon’s torso, keeping him trapped there as he pumps inside of you. “Don’t say it to me, say it to him. He won’t fuck you if you’re hypnotized so he’ll have to have you ask him.”

Your face is flushed, and he can hear your heart beat erratically in your chest. Your chest rises and dips as you turn to the angel, your mouth parted and already asking him to join before you can look him in the eyes. His hand burns against your skin, touching such an innocent place but to him it’s as if he’s touching something intimate, looking into your eyes as you’re fucked by a close friend of his.

“Simeon,” you gasp between the moans, your hand moving slowly as if muddled by amber, “please, just touch me.” Solomon’s moans interrupt your words as you’re pushed deeper into the bed. Your hand grasps onto the collar of his shorts and you pull him into a messy kiss. It’s teeth and tongue, saliva slipping past the corners of each other’s mouth while your hands go to cover every inch of his body that is exposed. “Simmy, just touch me,” you croak, pulling away with a thin strong of saliva connecting the both of you.

His hand is soft as it curves over your breast, his fingers brushing along a pebbled nipple. The bud is pinched, and it’s foreign in his hands, stiff and malleable at the same time, leaving you grasping at his shirt, pleading under your breath as his name is the only thing that you can say without falling apart. Your moans echo into his mouth, leaving his chest vibrating and he’s left breathless, dying at your lips as he hand kneads into your soft breast.

A puddle of white cloth is pooled around Simeon’s ankles, his body bare and radiant as he’s led onto the mattress. Hands touch at his body, tainting his holy being with sin that covers his brown skin, trails of lips that are pressed to the nape of his neck and against his own breast. Your lips are tender, pressed against his own; honeysuckle that sticks to his tongue and leaves him with aching teeth. Eyes are on him, and for once, they aren’t judgmental, they are free and full of love and he’s left hiding at the crook of your neck and holding onto Solomon’s hands, with poison that threatens to rip apart his soul and spill onto the two that are left on the bed.

“You’re allowed to touch them, you know,” Solomon says in a smile, his hand pulling away from the angels. “They want it too.” His eyes shift from Simeon to you who’s watching him with wicked eyes. “They’re dripping just at the feeling of kissing you. Show him how much you want him.”

He watches as your hand disappears between your legs, your fingers rubbing softly against your clit, your face heated and even though flushed, you still look at him. He watches how your fingers tease around your entrance, how they’re sucked inside and the soft melody of clicking sounds as you finger yourself in front of him, because of him. He watches and waits with bated breath and when you pull your hands away, translucent gossamer strings stick between your fingers. Your wrist is held in the angel’s hands and your nectar that is oh-so-sweet is placed on his tongue, his lips wrapping around your fingers, and the two humans before him watch as their angel suckles in something so sweet as if it were his final meal.

“Simeon,” you call to him, your hand outstretched, face burning as you entice him. You want nothing more than to just hold his hand, to touch him and let him feel you. “Simeon, please,” you cry, so desperate to hold his hand.

The angel turns to Solomon who pulls you to his chest, and so desperate to have your cunt filled, you align yourself to his cock, letting it nestle around your walls. “I- Is it really okay?” Simeon asks, watching as you squirm above Solomon.

“No one is here to judge you, Simeon. You’re allowed to do whatever you want to them.” Solomon holds his hand out to Simeon, his smile tempting as he curls his fingers, beckoning for Simeon to join him. “How would you like them?” Simeon furrows his brows in confusion and Solomon chuckles lightly. “You can have them vaginally-”

“It’s wrong to have premarital sex,” Simeon quickly interjects.

“So then anally?” The angel goes stiff. “Don’t worry, they’re already prepped,” Solomon mumbles. He lowers you to the bed, his cock sliding out of you, strings of arousal connecting and making his length glisten under the light of the room. “You can slip into them with ease-'' there's eagerness in his voice that the sorcerer does not try to hide- promise.” Solomon lies on his back, having you sit above him, slowly leaning over as his mouth pulls in one of your supple breasts, nursing on you as your hands reach around and grab at your bum, stretching the fat to have your taint exposed. “Just go ahead and use them. They like it when you’re rough,” he winks, capturing your lips in a kiss.

Simeon lets his cockhead kiss your hole, and it flutters around him, and the slapping of skin is enough to let him suck in a sharp breath and push himself inside of you. You moan and it’s intertwined with a sob and a call of his name and just as quick, you tighten yourself around him. Your walls are tight, gummy and clinging to the shape of his cock that curves and rises with soft bulges.

“Oh god, Simeon,” you wail, pulling away from the kiss and tilting your head backward. “Simeon, fuck- you’re so big.” There are tears in your voice and Simeon has to bite the inside of his cheeks to ignore the forming smile.

Inside of you, semen has begun to leak, iridescent and holy, filling your hole with such that makes the angel ignore the motions that are happening. He’s sinned under no one’s eyes and yet, he’s sinned to the two people who he cares for. He can feel something evil latch onto him, his need to have you call his name, to replace the name of Father with his, your voice the only thing that he can hear, along with Solomon’s grunts and breathless laughs. He’s pulled away from you and you and him whine at the loss of contact, your hands searching for him and body missing as semen leaks out of your abused holes. His shaft is cleansed of yours and his arousal and your legs are bent to your chest, your hands scratching and marring his back and he’s drowning in you, suffocating as he breeds you, burying his face into the crook of his neck and letting his teeth rip your skin.

His hand wraps around your throat, squeezing the sides and your breath is restricted. Your heartbeat rises, pulses and vibrates under his skin, your cunt tightening into something that makes it so easy for him to spill. Everything has bordered along fear and pleasure. “Sim- Simeon, Oh fuck-” your sentence is ruined by a moan, your body shaking as you mouth remains open, a thick trail of drool sliding past your bottom lip. “Simeon, Simeon,” you chant, raising your hips, your walls clinging to him and Solomon captures your lips.

He pulls away with a drunken expression, looking at Simeon who is sloppily thrusting inside of you. “Well, would you look at that- Ha,” Solomon says playfully, a hand of his squeezing at your breast. “You fucked them silly, Simeon.”

Your cunt leaks and Solomon nurses on your breast, your hand running through his hair as your sex burns, too sensitive, so close and so far. You leak in heavy strands, your body shaking as you call for both of them, whining and twisting under Simeon. Your legs ache, and you can feel him hit against your cervix, pushing so deep and so widely that you’re sure you’ll be unable to walk tomorrow.

Above you, Simeon moans, his face scrunched up as he can feel his release at the edge of him. Your cunt closes around him, clinging to his cock, and your lips capture his, tongue and teeth meet and he sobs into you, tears slipping onto your face and he spills. Your name leaves in a whimper past his lips, his hand curling above Solomon’s neck and holding it firmly, but loosely. You shake and cry, and when he pulls out of you, your body is on pins and needles as semen leaks out of you. The three of you lie in a bed and with sweat slicked bodies, you all stare up at the ceiling.

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livingforthewhump · 3 years

Text

“Where do you think you’re going?”

A hand grabbed the back of Whumpee’s jacket, pulling them back, flush with Whumper’s chest. Whumpee clenched their fists as they felt Whumper’s face against the back of their head. They didn’t want to make a scene here, in the back shadows of the bar, packed as it was.

“To hell. Would you like to join me?” Whumpee asked snidely.

Whumper tsked into their hair. “Come on, darling, that’s no way to be. We had a deal, remember?”

“The deal was we meet in public.”

Whumpee tensed as a hand slipped just under the hem of their shirt, just enough to set them on edge.

“This is public,” Whumper purred, tugging them closer.

“Get off me,” Whumpee snarled, jabbing their elbow into Whumper.

Whumper’s arm wrapped around their waist and held on tight. “I do think this freedom has made you forget who you belong to. When you worked for me, you never would have fought me like this.”

“Drop the act, Whumper. What do you want?”

Whumper sighed and drew their arm back, keeping a firm grip on Whumpee’s jacket. “I don’t take well to deserters, remember?”

Whumpee heard the tell-tale sound of a knife being flicked out, and they couldn’t stop their jerking flinch.

Whumper laughed. “So you do remember. Good. Then this won’t take long.” The cold tip of the knife slid under Whumpee’s shirt and they went rigid against it. “I wanted to meet in public for two reasons, Whumpee dear. First, because it was the only way you would actually come. And second, because I don’t want this to kill you.”

The knife jabbed in, all the way to the handle, and no matter how many times Whumpee had felt it before, they would never be prepared. Their knees buckled underneath them. Whumper’s grip was the only thing keeping them upright. All breath seemed to leave their body in a vacuum, the world spinning away from them.

Then the knife was ripped out of them, and a scream was caught in their throat. Whumper chuckled into their hair, bringing the flat end of the knife to Whumpee’s face and wiping their own blood across their cheek.

“Don’t get in my way again, Whumpee,” Whumper murmured, and disappeared from behind them.

Whumpee crumpled to the floor, hands too busy clutching their wound to stop their fall. They let out a soft groan and screwed their eyes shut against the white covering their vision.

It was becoming harder to breathe from shock and adrenaline and probably blood loss. There seemed to be quite a lot puddling around them, and still more seeping out from between their fingers despite their best efforts. They focused on gaining control of their breath, counting in, 2, 3, 4. Hold. Out, 2, 3, 4. Hopefully once they’d calmed down they would be able to bandage their wound, but as it was, their hands were shaking and only getting worse.

It was impossible to tell how long they laid there, trying even their breaths, but eventually the focus on counting fell behind the effort it took to breathe at all. They were only shaken from their slow sink into unconsciousness by a wet splash nearby.

Someone cursed softly, then much louder. Whumpee looked over blearily and saw a pair of shoes turning red from the blood they’d stepped in. Very quickly the shoes became knees as whoever it was dropped into a kneeling position, reaching towards Whumpee but leaving their hands hovering centimeters away.

After releasing another colorful series of curses in a single breath, the person pressed their fingers to Whumpee’s neck, feeling for a pulse. “Hello? Are you alive?”

“Unfortunately,” Whumpee said. Or, meant to say. It came out as more of a pathetic whine.

Another curse. “Okay, hold on. I’ll call an ambulance, and--”

“Nhhh,” Whumpee managed, trying to sit up in protest.

“No no no no no, you stay down. You’ll bleed out faster if you sit up.” A beat of silence. “Do you not want me to call anyone? Any friends, or… if you did, you’re probably too delirious from blood loss,” they finished, more to themselves. “How did this happen? We’re in a bar, for f--”

They cut themselves off as Whumpee’s eyelids drooped again, head falling back down to the floor. “Hey, stay with me. I’m going to get you better.”

In a matter of moments, a thick bundle of cloth was pressed firmly against Whumpee’s wound, and their hands were placed on top of it.

“I need you to press down on that as much as you can. I’m going to carry you, okay?” The voice muttered a reassurance that, once again, seemed aimed at themself, before strong arms scooped up Whumpee’s weak form.

As their head leaned against a bare shoulder, Whumpee realized that the cloth they held was this person’s shirt.

They jolted as the person walked as fast as they dared without hurting Whumpee too much. They tried to hold on to consciousness, but as they caught sight of the cold stars twinkling overhead, their vision receded into darkness.

—

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Note

18, 19, and 40 please?🥺 maybe some smut if possible💕

19. “Take a breath honey, yes princess just like that.”

18. “Squeeze my hand if you could hear me baby.”

40. “I love you, pet. So much of it, come back, please??”

A/N: Girliessss, theysss and themsss. Sorry for being inactive :(( Missed you all so much!! Here's a blurb from mafia!h x soft subby.

Y/N had never been this bratty. She had her occasional time-outs where Harry refused to touch her for days till she broke through her ice and begged him with a drool-y sweet mouth and honeyed puppy eyes.

She knows the drill and loves the adrenaline that seeps to her toes when Harry glowers at her across the room with bolting dark intensity -- his hook of thumb in a demand to have her in his lap is enough to excite her, the punishments makes her insides shrill and makes her fall in love with her daddy more and the best part of all of it's that she wants to cherish again and again’s how adorably caring he’s once fucking her raw.

At the moment though. She isn’t being a brat on purpose. They came for a dinner (with one of the Harry's business people) and it’s all business talk, rich dicks everywhere, hush hush voices that Y/N despises and the piqued ogle of the wife on her that makes her squirmy in her seat.

She zones out into her own lil bubble for a second, imagining herself back in their cosy home comfy in Harry’s humungous overly worn hoodie, snuggling him and smooching him, pecking all those softish spots where he has runs his fingers through the night and she wants to have a delicious pizza all to herself because the food here’s the amount of worm and leaf of spinach on a worm.

She didn’t even realise that she was slipping into her subby state until she was getting all fussy about her surrounds and plucked her lipstick out smudging the crimson tip against a tissue and slides it atop Harry’s thigh from under the table,

Daddy, home?

His flicker of gaze alters from the little needy note towards his girl who’s being choosy in eating her veggies and rolling them around in boredom.

Her head perks up cutesly at the feeling of his attention on her and he suckles his wine layered lip upon the sight of her doe-blown out pupils and glossy eyes indicating him like a train's horn that she’s submerging into her submissiveness at dangerous rate when she goes all squeamish and pink cheeks at the mere touch of his knuckles against her elbow.

“Daddy, please.” She whispers into his ear impatiently squeezing his knee. About to write another note to him to stay persistent but her lipstick breaks and she flinches when it rolls under the lady’s shoe leaving a bright stain on floor.

“Behave.” Was all he muttered gruffly before throwing a nonchalant dismissive glance her way and that was the last straw for her.

It’s been hours!! All she wanted was to get home and cuddle! Is that too much too ask!?

That’s why she acted like a grump and didn’t even bid them goodbyes, waited at the lobby for him eagerly and couldn’t help but to sway with her hands clasped back and grin at the greedy thought that once he steps outside she will leap on him like an affection starved kitten.

Her wish remains a wish nevertheless when Harry passes by her with a stoic face and snaps his fingers at her, the single gesture’s enough to bead tension on her forehead.

“In the car. Right now.” He glares her sternly plucking his black leather glove to reveal his jewelled pretty hand as he reaches for the handle of the backseat door.

Y/N has decided that today she’s gonna hold her grounds and be as naughty as she possibly could to get her kisses of the day.

Sheepishly she slips inside and gives him a toothy smile whilst trying to scramble up towards to reach within the sweet distance for his lips.

The trinkets of her shiny dress makes a noise as Harry splays his calloused palm up her silken thigh, glides it all the way up her hip and keeps his grip on her to stop her from moving.

“What?” She pouts knocking her nose against his's in attempt to plant her lips atop his’s, all grabby hands for him, “You’re not havin’ any of me kisses.” He tuts, eyes dark and murky.

“But why!!?” She whines trying to cup his cheeks and just squish them awful good but he gives her a pointed look and doubles back, away from her.

“You know why, little one.” At that she gives him a nasty narrow squint of her peepers and mutters grouchily, “I hate you.”

“What did ye' just say?” He pushes her closer with one tug that elicits tiny gasp from her, his lip thin in annoyance, “I said I hate you!” She huffs crossing her arms and it makes her breast appear more plump.

In all reality, she’s too stubborn to tell him that she’s feeling terribly needy.

“Say tha’ again, I dare you.” Harry demands with tinge of surprise in his growl and she hisses in frustration adjusting the loose heavy shoulder of her dress, “I said, I hate you and this dress, ‘s so itchy. just w’na go home —-,” Her blabbing fades into a squeaky gasp upon the sharp sting of Harry’s hand against her bottom.

“What happened Sugar? Did cat caught ye’ tongue?” He grits wrapping his warm hand around her throat wanting to choke the battiness out of her, but rather it turns her into a melty puddle of a softie.

“Over my lap.” He says firmly.

“No.”

He doesn’t give her time and positions her himself horizontally on his thighs, elbows pressed into seat and raises her bum with the support of his knee, pinching her cheek teasingly to warn her.

He tries not to coo as she looks ethereal in the glittery dress that's now bunched in Harry’s fist atop her spine to expose her itty bittys and she mewls prettily when Harry spanks her asscheek watching it jiggle then does it again and again, on her last count she’s dripping down her thighs stickily.

“What a filthy little brat,” He groans adam apple bobbing from the vigour of heat spreading in his body as he inspects her wet holes with middle finger making her squirmy and whiny from his feathery touches, “Proper soaked just from gettin' spanked.” He traces the lace delicates of her panties and presses his thumb against her bundle of nerves to feel the throb from his touch.

He pulls her back up and squishes her cheeks to pucker her rosy lips, pecks it heartily, “Knows why you’re gettin’ punished baby?” His tone gentler now. Realising that she shouldn’t slip too deep before they reach home.

She snuggles into the crook of his neck and hums, guiding his hand to her sore bum to make him rub the burn he left on her ass.

“Uhmm. ‘cos didn’t behave nice, acted bad ...” Her voice slurry from desire and yearn. If it wouldn’t be for his grasp on her waist she’d have gotten off on his meaty thigh long gone, “And?” He arches his brow sceptically drawing soothing circles on her flesh.

“And that I said, I hate daddy ‘n the dress he gifted me ....” His heart thumps a bit from the statement but the rational part in him assures him that she was just bumbled about him being too distant from her.

“And what do bad girls get?”

“Punished.” She mumbles into his throat and he nods, kisses her hair and cups the nape of her neck to give it a tender squeeze.

How much she acts like a spoiled brat sometimes; he still always makes sure she’s in her comfort zone and knows why she’s getting treated that way.

“I love you, baby sweets. But .... it doesn’t mean you’d not get your punishment.” She was about to protest and throw a tantrum but the car comes to an halt right infront of the large dark doors of mansion.

Tranquil air fills with her giggly shrieks when Harry gets outside and throws her over his shoulder with an ease, his grin wicked as she squeals out “No's" grabbing onto one of the door-frames in the hallway but it’s all vain since he’s way stronger than her little grip.

Once in their room, he’s flipping her into heaps of pillows and catches her calf when she tries to crawl away in hurry.

Her eyes widen and she looks down with a pout upon hearing the rip of her dress, “Liked it.” She mummers sadly.

“Thought it was too itchy,” Harry shrugs pushing her up towards the bedhead and ducks down to speck soft kisses against her collarbones, mouth foaming at the sight of her tits spilling out of her lingerie.

“No! Was just —.. fuck ...” She keens out a moan bucking her core to grind against his thigh when he nooks his knuckle between her sloppy pussy lips and twists her panties pushing them up scruffily into her mound feeling the flutter of her clitoris, the sheer fabric of it giving the right amount of friction to get her to an orgasm.

Her wet gasps and moans fogs into Harry’s mouth as he kisses her with unyielding roughness, hot bubbles popping in her belly ready to spread the nice feeling inside her, holding her down when he knows what he’s gonna do next will turn her into batshit crazy.

He pulls back. Both. His hand and his mouth away from her.

She blinks, with a lazy smile first then the realization dawns upon her and she’s grappling for his sides but he takes her wrists and pins them down.

“Daddy no!” She growls a whine and he just sits on his heels and admires the mess he created out of her, flustered and sheened in sweat, all soft and pudging to litter her skin with marks and bites, his cock warming up in his pants, “Please daddy I want you.” The whites of her eyes enviable and glassy from the frustrated tears that are collecting at her waterline.

Though, Harry stays adamant because those innocent coy eyes are her best weapon and ties her wrists to the bedpost without saying a word to her.

“You brought this on y'self, baby.” He tugs the bound to make sure it’s not too tight and moves back to get rid of his pants, his prick bloated and throbbing from ridges, slaps against his lower belly it’s head coated with precum.

“Now you’re g'na watch me jerk myself off and cover ye' pretty tummy with my cum, might lick it off from you.” She shivers at his words. Toes curling as she silently pleads with a parted mouth and barely open eyelids.

His nostrils flares, howling groan slipping through his lips as he spits in his palm and wraps it around his fat girth slicking his fist up and all the way down to give some relief to his balls.

He dips down and sucks onto her lower lip, “Knows your safe word right?” He asks shoulders jolting when he slops the bulbous crown of his prick against her clit in slow circles.

“Yes, yellow.” She breathes out delicately hoping he slips into her soon but Harry has other plans as he squeezes himself more, swiping the dollops of white thickness from the crown of his prick and brings his thumb to stuff her mouth shut with that.

“What a greedy kitten.” He tuts in mock when she eagerly swirls her tongue around his thumb creating soft sucking noises, she gags around his digit, eyeballs rolling to her skull when Harry slides her damp panties away and strokes his cock against her drippy hole.

“Hmm. Feels good.” He husks pushing into her, but not stuffing her full and that makes her whimper. She glides her feet around his spine to push him into her and her squishy sloppy walls tries to swallow him whole.

Everything just feels too hot and overwhelming. Him fondling his shaft from where he isn’t soaked into her warmth and her tiny whines and whimpers as he teases and edges her.

“Daddy ‘m sorry!” She squeaks out breathlessly clamping down onto him, “I bet you’re.” He moans out, that one sweaty curl dangling and tickling her forehead.

“That’s the most prettiest sound I’ve heard.” At his praise she just turns into a puddle and wiggles for more.

“You’re g'na make me cum.” He kisses his teeth and she digs her feet into his back not knowing if she’s allowed to come too and not having a voice to ask for his permission.

She gulps. Eyelids fluttering. Her cheeks blushy and peachy, listening to his deep moans that whirls within the pit of his chest as he fills her pussy with warm ribbons of cum that sticks to her already soppy walls and then pulls out to empty himself on her tummy as he promised.

Moments later the room echoes with her treacly yearning whimpers and blubbers of Harry’s name as he licks her juices off and the his own cum that oozes out of her whenever he pushes his middle finger inside her cunt.

“No!” That’s why they’ve discussed it before hand, her safe word. Harry knows his baby girl and that she gives up too early, gets too overwhelmed before she could actually enjoy the good part all of it although she has a potential to be more bearing than that.

They’ve lost the count of her orgasms.

The overestimation thingy.

Harry thinks it could be the best punishment for her.

She cramps her thighs around his wrist to make him stop but he spreads them wider apart, “You could gimme another one princess, knows y’could.” He curls his fingers to caress that spongey button inside her that makes her writhe like a leaf and it definitely did.

“Shit.” Eventually she gives into him basking in the pleasure of it -- sinking down on his fingers and grinds her clit against his knuckles, her cum from her previous orgasms glistening on his skin.

“Fuck already squirting.” She didn’t realize that, too floaty in her subspace and the ecstasy until she feels his fingers rubbing inside her again.

“Daddy no, no, no ... too sensitive!” She cries out cramming her legs around his waist and pushes his chest away with her knees but Harry keeps pummelling them deeper, scissoring them and adding two more, her thighs shakes terribly a burn spreads in her limbs as the sensational craving envelopes her once again.

“Yes, yes, yes. Don’t stop, please!” She shouts out whimperishly making Harry smile and he smooches a kiss to her forehead, pressing his chest flushed to hers and cradles her jaw to make her look at him, “Cum fo’ me. You’re me good fuckin' girl – g'na come right?” She bobs her head quickly fresh tears gliding down her cheeks and Harry wipes them away immediately.

She’s flying high like a kite. Wanting him all. His hands. His touch. His cock. His cum anything she could get out of him.

His love. His attention. His constant assurances and praises, affection, tenderness and his kisses and loads ‘n loads of tiny kisses She’s always needy for that.

“’M your good girl!” She sobs out in high pitch grappling onto restraints and Harry feels this dire urge to protect his little one at all costs, “Yes you’re.” He coos brushing her hair away from her eyes and let her hide her face into his neck as she turns stiff like an arrow and creampies around his fingers, lips smushed against his cheek.

“Take a breath, honey. Yes princess just like that.” He massages her shoulder and pecks it to calm her down upon feeling her heartbeat go wild after she comes.

She shakes in his arms whilst Harry showers her in kisses lining himself against her entrance and sheathes into her in a slick, their moans melting as he buries himself deep till her belly and cum spurts out from her cunt with his each hard thrust and it drips down her bum and onto already splotched sheets.

White dots wafts past her eyelids, arms shaking and lip wobbling as she feels it hit like a train. Getting pooled into utter bliss of many orgasms, feeling a rupturing dose of euphoria cocooning her.

She feels like she’s on paradise and somebody’s calling her through the white noise but she’s unable to respond all she could do’s blabber nonsense while trying to stop squirming.

Then she gets familiar to that gentle voice, the cosiness of that hand holding onto her free ones now and the softness of those lips against her forehead.

“Squeeze my hand if you could hear me baby.” He gets anxious a little bit when she stays droopy and unresponsive like a sunflower at nights.

A huge grin adorns his after climax blissed out features when she obeys him and gives a lil squish to his palm, “There y’go baby sugar. Y'alright honey?” He kisses the tip of her nose when she just blinks up at him weepily.

“Daddy.” Her voice scratchy and awfully feeble from all of the screaming and moaning.

“No daddy. ‘S just Harry, I love you pet. So much of it come back to me, please?” He almost pleads corking his mind to think what would bring her back from her fragile state since she has never slipped past from him this deep ever.

She whines at the hollowness she feels in her tummy when he pulls out catefully from her with a squelching noise and hisses even when the sheets rustles against her folds, “So sensitive.” Harry murmurs trailing honeyed kisses into the softest flesh of her thighs.

“Yes daddy, but want you!” Harry’s brows shoots up into shock and he slips his forearm under her to hug her tight, “’M right her bubba.” She cuddles into him and yawns fumbling with his sides listening to his pacific breathing.

“Guess we gotta give this little one a sleepy bath.” He mutters into her hair, nails scratching soothingly up her neck and twirling her downsy baby curls.

“I love you.” She rasps out rubbing the sleepiness in her eyes with the back of her hand, “I love you too -- would you like if I lit up some candles in the bathroom? Y’favourite ones?” He thinks it might help her get out of her subby state.

“No. Just you.” She pouts battling the sleepiness away and clings to him when he walks them to bathroom and sits them into the cold tub, he wrapped her around him in a way she doesn’t come in contact with the coldness of it as they wait for it fill with bubbling water (Y/N was too sensitive and clingy that he knew if he’d away parted away she’d have cried endlessly.)

No words were exchanged as she almost slept on his chest and drooled all over him.

“Cutie.” Harry giggles softly pecking her parted snoring lips and cleans himself and her gently.

Gets his most worn out clothes, the one that could tell another person in a beat that she belongs to him from the smell alone.

She slings her thigh around his waist and smashes her face under his chin, canoodling into him with a little tired purr.

He was petting her head and running his hand over her back that when she mumbled into her sleep, rubbing her cheek up and down his chest, Harry stopped and ducked down to kiss her forehead feeling love bursting through his insides.

“I love you, Harry.” Was what she mumbled. He's just too much in love with his soft little button.

#mafia harry x florist reader #HARRY STYLES SMUTTTT #harry styles dirty one shotsssss #DOM HARRY SOFT SUBBY READER #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles #cute harry #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

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azaleavi · 3 years

Text

Angel

Summary: Bucky makes you breakfast, but he gets to eat something else.

Word count: 4.2k (what happened? lmao)

Warnings: fluff then smut then fluff again lol, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, Bucky is a tease, pet names

Author's note: I don't know what happened with this one lol. I had a little idea and it evolved into this. Pretty proud of this one so I hope you like it.

Feedback is always appreciated and don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

18+ MINORS DNI

The faint sound of music floating into the room woke you up from your sleep. You stirred in the bed, hands unconsciously searching for the warm body next to you, but it only found coldness. Eyebrows furrowing, you opened you eyes to confirm that Bucky was indeed not in bed with you. A quick wave of panic rushed through you until you remembered the music that was still playing somewhere in the house. Groaning and sitting up in bed you looked around the mess that was your bedroom. Clothes were thrown everywhere. Your mind wandered back to last night, when you couldn't wait to get home and rip the clothes off of each other, desire clouding both of your minds. You bit your lip at the memory as you stood up, contemplating if you should put on something before leaving the room. Fuck it. This was your home with the man you loved and if you wanted to walk around naked, you could. It's not like he hasn't seen you like this anyway.

Pushing the door open the music got louder as you followed the noise, finding the love of your life in the kitchen, wearing nothing but his underwear. He stood by the stove, cooking something as he swayed his hips to the 40s music that played softly in the background. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed in front of you, watching him be consumed by his own world. He flipped the pancakes as he started singing the lyrics quietly, nodding his head along the beat. You loved moments like these. When he had peace and he could be whoever he wanted to be. When he could listen to whatever music he wanted to. You wished he could have had this for all his life. Just being a normal man with a normal life. But sometimes life has other plans for us and you didn't want to dwell on the what ifs, you just wanted to give him the most perfect life you could. And if that meant being woken up by 40s music and seeing him make breakfast as he danced along? Then you were the happiest person you could be.

He turned his head to the side, eyes widening as they landed on your frame at the entrance, a half eaten pancake hanging out of his mouth as he turned back to turn off the stove.

"Doll, you are awake" he bit off the piece that didn't fit in his mouth and quickly swallowed before speaking. "Did I wake you up?"

"No, you didn't" you shook your head, a smile on you lips from his antics. His blue eyes seemed to notice how naked you were as they traveled down your body. You tightened your arms in front of your chest, a little insecurity creeping into your mind under his intense gaze.

"Well, it is definitely a good morning for me" he smirked which made you let out a snort. "Come here, angel face" he held out his hand. Your body moved on it's own, like it was trained to do, gravitating toward his warmth. As you got close enough he grabbed your hand and he pulled you closer to himself, your bare breasts pushing against his chest. His palms brushed along your back from your shoulder, stopping at the curve of your ass, each hand squeezing one cheek. Arms going around his neck you pulled him down to press your lips to his soft ones. The kiss was slow and soft, lips teasing each other. His hands kneaded the meat on your ass. You kept pressing kisses on his mouth as you lifted you right leg up to his hips, one of his hands grabbing you under you thigh, the coolness of the metal a welcome feeling on your skin. You were starting to get wetter and wetter as he continued to massage your butt.

His pointer finger brushed against your entrance accidentally, making you let out a moan into his mouth.

"Look at you. Already so wet for me" he continued to brush his finger over you. Your hips started swaying back and forth, brushing against his cock under his boxers which made him let out a low growl.

"Bucky" his name left your lips in a whine. He bit your lower lip and pulled on it as his finger finally pressed between your folds, his hand still behind you. You pushed out your ass more to give him better access, your fingers gripping the back of his head.

"So greedy for my fingers, huh?" he circled you clit, making you throw your head back, your back arching more. He pulled his finger away, leaving you in a whining mess as you kissed down his jaw, trying to get him to touch you again.

"Please, Bucky" you ground your hips into him to get some friction on your aching pussy. He always had this effect on you. Reducing you into this mess as you begged for him to fuck you. With his cock or his fingers, it didn't matter to you, but you wanted something inside you. You loved that he was leading you during sex and using you however he wanted to. You did have your soft moments when you just slowly made love for hours, but right now you wanted him to fuck you on the table. And it seemed like he had the same idea as he lifted you up by your thighs, making you wrap your legs around his waist. You kissed under his ear, excited for what's about to come, your stomach compressing in anticipation.

He practically slammed you down onto the table, the air leaving your lungs in a single moan.

"You like it when I'm rough, babydoll?" he smirked into your neck, nipping at the skin where your neck met you shoulder. He knew the answer to his question very well as you told him multiple times that being manhandled during sex was a huge turn on for you. He had no problem with doing exactly that for you, his super strength making it easy for him to lift you up and throw you down on the bed whenever he wanted. He never went overboard with it, somehow always knowing just how much you wanted him to be rough without you having to say anything.

"You know that I do" you rolled your eyes. He pulled away from your neck to slam his lips onto yours, his tongue prying them open to explore your mouth. Not like he need much exploring as he knew you inside and out like the back of his hand. Your mouths moved in sync as your souls yearned for each other, bodies gravitating towards the other, wanting to be as close as possible.

His lips traveled down along your jaw then across your neck until he found your breasts. Giving you a few light bites along the curve, your nipples pebbled as you pushed his head closer to you, loud breaths leaving your lips. His hands grabbed you behind your knees and pulled you to the edge of the table, your wet pussy easily sliding across the surface, leaving a wet trail behind. Pushing open your legs, he stepped between them as your heart beat rapidly.

"Fuck- Bucky" you couldn't help but let the whines escape the confines of your lips. As usual, he didn't have to do much to leave you in a puddle for him. His mouth closed around your hard nipple, sucking on it, the sensation making you arch your back into his mouth. His lips kissed down your stomach, leaving bites behind, then he reached the skin just above where you wanted his lips the most. A few red patches were the only thing indicating that he was there as he moved even more down, kneeling on the hard floor, his face between your thighs. His gaze met yours as he looked up from under his eyelashes, making you bite your lip at how sinful he looked kneeling for you, ready to give you the pleasure you oh so desperately wanted. His hand brushed along your calves as he kissed from your knees to the inside of your thighs, just inches away from your center, that was dripping from his teasing.

"Buck- please" you whined, hips moving on it's own, hands gripping his hair as you tried to push him closer, but he was stronger. He loved having you like this. Just completely drunk on lust, wanting nothing more than to take all the pleasure he was willing to give you.

"You are so beautiful like this" he pressed his warm lips on your thigh in a soft kiss. A stark contrast to the images running through your head. "Open your legs a little more for me" he ordered and your body followed his words before they could even register in your hazy mind. He was the one kneeling, but you were given the orders. "Good girl" he praised you. The words going to your core in a new wave of wetness.

"-lease" you almost sobbed, not being able to take the emptiness you felt in your pussy for much longer. He put your legs on his shoulder and you almost whined again, thinking he was finally giving you what you wanted. But Bucky Barnes is a tease through and through, and you were his target for today.

"I love you, doll" he smirked up at you, knowing damn well what he was doing to you. You hated him. You absolutely hated him. That anger was short lived as he bit down on the meat on the inside of your thighs earning another groan from you. Pupils blown wide, you looked down to him and he thought you were most beautiful creature he ever came across. The morning sun shone through the window behind you, giving you an eternal glow. Hair tousled from sleeping, you looked like an angel, that came down from heaven just for him and he sure as hell won't let go of you. But that didn't mean he wouldn't tease you for as long as he could.

"Bucky" you drew out the last syllable of his name as he stood up, your legs falling from his shoulders, his nose brushing against yours.

"What is it, doll?" he pressed small kisses to the corner of your mouth, that stupid smirk never leaving his lips.

"Fuck me, please" you keened shamelessly, every rational thought leaving your mind.

"That's what you want? You want to be stuffed full with my cock?" his metal thumb brushed against your folds, your eyes rolling back into your head. Just one touch and you were already feeling so close to release.

"Yes, yes, yes! Please!" you almost shouted, hips going forward to push against his finger, but he pulled it away. Again.

"Will you be a good girl for me?" he pulled on your earlobe with his teeth, his hands resting on your waist. At this point any touch he gave you sent electric shocks through your body. Your fingers pressed on the skin on his shoulders, your nails leaving crescent marks behind as your hands flew down to touch yourself if he wasn't going to do it, but he caught your wrists before you could even reach it. Damn him and his super-soldier senses.

"I guess the answer is no" he chuckled darkly as he pulled your arms up and urged you to wrap them around his neck. "You want to touch yourself, babydoll? Or do you want me to touch you?" his metal hand suddenly slipped between your dripping folds, pressing strongly against you. You let out a loud moan as he started circling your clit. Jaw hanging open you rocked your hips along his movements as he kissed down you neck. You felt the coil tighten in your abdomen.

"Don't stop- Bucky- please" you shouted, pulling him closer. The touch left your wet pussy, making you throw your head back. Your agony wasn't long lived as he knelt down and before you could even miss him, his mouth was wrapped around your cunt, sucking. Hard. You fell backwards on the table, back hitting the surface then arching off of it as his finger entered your warm walls. Your wetness made it very easy for him to add another finger, your hands pulling on his hair as your moans came after one another. His tongue moved up and down between your folds as his fingers massaged your wet walls in a fast pace. He hit the spot inside you that made you see stars, the sinful sounds enveloping the kitchen.

"Shit, Bucky- 'm close" your thighs closed around his head but he didn't care. His only mission was to give you the orgasm you so desperately wanted.

"Come for me, angel" he growled. Growled into your pussy, the vibrations sending you across the edge as you screamed his name, the coil snapping in your abdomen. He worked you through your high, only stopping when you slightly pulled away, your clit becoming sensitive. When he looked up at you he found you staring at the ceiling, mouth hung open, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

Hearing your name leave his lips you looked down only to see him standing, his entire lower face covered in your juices and his lips sucking on his fingers that were inside you a few moments ago. This sight was enough to get you turned on again, making you bite your lip.

"Sweet as always" he mumbled as he pulled his finger out of his mouth with a loud pop. When he noticed you expression, the lust in your eyes, he brushed his palms up your thighs, leaning over your body to press a few kisses on your stomach.

"You still want more?" he nipped at your soft skin playfully, making you giggle. You were about to sit up when he climbed atop your body, his hands holding him up on either side of your head. Leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck, he rut his hard cock against your pussy. He still had his underwear on, but it was barely able to contain his member.

"Will the table be able to hold us?" you sighed, barely being able to think clearly.

"Are you calling me fat?" he pulled away in mock hurt.

"Never" you pulled him down to give him a passionate kiss, your tongues pushing against each other as he continued to ground his hips against yours. You reached down to push the annoying clothing that was separating you, down, but struggled so he helped you out, his warmth leaving you as he climbed down to fully get rid of it. You leaned on your elbows to get a good view as his cock sprung free, leaking precum from the tip, making you unconsciously open your legs more for him. Bucky looked back at you, the sight of you so ready for him making him go feral.

Climbing up the table again he kissed up from your mound, between your breasts to your lips. His cock sliding between your folds left you breathless. His hard member massaging your clit drove you crazy as he kept moving up and down to gather your wetness. His lips moved against yours as the tip pushed past your entrance, making you moan into each others mouths. He kept pushing into your warm walls slowly, only stopping when he was fully inside you.

"You are so tight" he grunted, your pussy squeezing him in all the right ways. You clenched around him, making his arms buckle, his body almost falling on top of you. "I won't hold long if you keep doing that, babydoll" he mumbled the warning into your ear as he started moving in and out of you in a fast pace, making you keen and arch your back off the table, pressing your chest into him.

"Fuck- Bucky, yes!" you moaned, hips lifting up to meet his thrusts.

"You like this, don't you? Being fucked on the top of the table?" he moved faster into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin becoming louder accompanied by the squeaking of the table. It's going to fall apart. "You want me to take you on every surface of this house. Am I wrong?" he placed you leg on his shoulder, the new angle letting him thrust deeper into you.

"Yes, Buck- yes" your voice cracked as he hit the spot inside you, mind so enveloped in desire that it didn't even register his question.

" 'm close" you moaned, his hand going to you clit to draw circles on it, your nails scratching down his back.

"Then cum for me. Make a mess on this cock" he snapped his hips against yours, the force slightly pushing you further up the table. "Be a good girl" another hard thrust made the coil snap in your body for the second time this morning as you shouted his name.

A few more forceful thrusts later he followed after you, his cum painting your walls with his seed. His warm body fell on top of yours as both of you were trying to catch your breaths. His cock was still inside you, keeping his cum from leaking out as you wrapped you legs around his waist, making him groan into your neck.

You always loved being as close to him as possible after the mind-blowing sex you had. Both of you still panting, he brushed his flesh fingers down your side, leaving goosebumps behind, until it reached your ass and he gripped it, making you let out a breath.

"Bucky" his lips latched onto your skin as he hummed in response. "I love you" you ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, the other arm draped across his back, running up and down his spine.

"I love you too, doll" he whispered into the skin on your chest, then pulling away he slipped out of you and got off the table, making you whine at the emptiness in your pussy. He stood by the edge, eyes watching as your mixed cum dripped out of you, making him bite his lip.

"Stay here, I'll clean you up" he pressed a quick peck on your thigh then left the room. You stretched out your arms above you, slightly tired from your activities. The soft thuds of his feet hitting the floor became louder as he came back with a towel in his hands. Stopping at the entrance he looked at you, his eyes full of love. The rays of the sun hit you through the window, splayed out on the table in your full naked glory. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. Your eyes closed as you basked in the warmth and he though you really must have been an angel in you previous life. The afterglow of sex surrounding your body like a halo. Feeling his eyes on you, you turned your head and opened your eyes to look back at him, a small smile on your lips. His heart skipped a beat at you beauty, hands almost dropping the fabric in his hands. You were truly the most alluring person he has ever seen.

"What is it, Buck?" you asked. Your voice. God, your voice is going to drive him crazy one day. It was slightly raspy after sex, but it still had your usual soft undertones and he loved it all the same. His mind still in a haze he stepped closer to you, your heart beating faster after one look in his eyes. So full of love for you. You didn't know how you got so lucky to have him in your life. You just wanted to shout to the world that he was yours just as much as you were his and no one could ever change that.

"You-" he voice a little raspy, he cleared his throat. "You are just... so beautiful" he confessed your heart stopping for a moment then starting it's movement back up 10 times faster. You sat up and scooted closer to the edge to envelope him in a tight hug. You pressed small kisses on his shoulder as he brought the towel between your legs to wipe away the remainder of your pleasure. The pressure on your sensitive skin made you gasp and pull him closer to you as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"You okay?" he stopped moving, worried that he hurt you some way.

"Yes, I'm fine, just a little sore" you smiled shyly at him as you pulled away to look him in the eye. He nodded and continued taking care of you. He looked down at what he was doing, concentrating on the task at hand, doing his best to not press on you too hard. His focused gaze made you giggle which caused him to look back up at you, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, hands stopping.

"I love you" you continued your giggling and pressed a peck on his soft mouth.

"But what's so funny?" he was still confused.

"Nothing is funny, it's just that you are so cute" you smiled up at him.

"Cute?" he almost shouted in mock hurt. "I just fucked you senseless on this very table and I am cute? I'm literally cleaning my cum from you and you call me cute?" he lifted his eyebrows.

"The way you take care of me is cute and I love you for it" you pressed a kiss on his cheek, his mouth hanging open at your words.

"Of course I take care of you" he explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Not everyone would, Buck" you smiled at his cute expression. "But it doesn't matter. I'm just happy to have you in my life" you closed the conversation with a kiss on his mouth. He shook his head and went back to give your center one last swipe, dropping the towel on the ground.

"Are you hungry, angel face?" his arms circled around your waist and he lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist.

"Yeah, a little" you hid your face in his neck as he carried you to a chair to sit you down. He put you down and let go of you, making you whine and tighten your hold on him.

"You have to let go of me, angel" he laughed at your antics.

"But I don't want to" you whined, but he was stronger than you and he managed to peel your hands off of him. You pouted at him as he walked away to the kitchen counter where the now cold pancakes were, giving your the perfect view of his round ass.

"You want some cold pancakes?" he laughed holding the plate up.

"Sure, sounds good" your eyes were glued to his behind. He must have heard in your voice that your mind was somewhere else as he turned around to look at you, his ass leaving your line of sight and instead his member entered your view, making you look up in surprise. Eyebrows raised, he looked back at you, a teasing smirk on his lips.

"Are you sure you are talking about the pancakes?" he joked, making a blush appear on your cheeks.

"I might have thought about something else" you bit your lip, looking down. His feet hitting the ground was the only indication that he came closer to you. The plate being placed on the table made you look up as he leaned over you, your faces only inches apart. He smirked and slammed his lips onto yours in a passionate kiss.

"Stand up" he mumbled into your lips, your heart jumping in excitement. Your body immediately followed his words, your mind filling with images of what he would do to you. These images shattered as he sat down in your place, pulling away from your lips. Your eyes widened in shock, making him laugh. Did he just do this so he could steal your seat?

"Come sit on my lap, angel" he patted his thighs. He didn't need to tell you twice as you scrambled to make yourself comfortable on his thick muscles, your legs on either side of him, your arms on his shoulders, an excited smile on your lips. He pulled the two of you closer to the table and to the plate of food sitting in front of you. You placed your head on his shoulder as he cut up the pancakes, bringing a piece to your lips. Opening your mouth he placed it on your tongue. Savoring the taste you sighed and nuzzled your face into his neck. He ate a few pieces himself before offering you another one. You continued this for a while, until there was noting left on the plate.

"You wanna go back to bed?" he put down the silverware and placed his hands on your back, brushing up and down.

"Yeah, I got kinda sleepy" a yawn broke your sentence, making him let out a chuckle.

"Let's go then" he suddenly stood up, his hands under your thighs, lifting you up, earning a squeal out of you.

He carried you out of the kitchen, slightly waddling to make you laugh. Your noises of happiness floated through the open space, mixing with the sunshine that illuminated what you left behind.

Bucky Barnes taglist: @toms-spiders @byatomoe @sarcastically-defensive17 @allforkook @buckyswh3re @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @mrsbarnesinmyimagination @leyannrae @bbl32 @wakandabiitch2 @cxddlyash

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes drabble

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thebadgerclan · 3 years

Text

Grief Beyond Words

Paring: Aleksander Morozova x reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: The loss of your baby leaves a grief beyond words...

TW: Miscarriage

A/N: please heed the TW! I briefly discuss the removal of a baby, nothing graphic or in detail. This deals heavily with grief of losing a child, so if this may trigger you, I recommend avoiding it.

That being said, I did enjoy writing this and am very proud of it.

The scream that left your mouth was one that would haunt Aleksander for the rest of his very long life. “I’m so sorry, moya soverennyi,” the Healer had said. “There is no heartbeat.” Grief welled up within Aleksander, longing to be let loose. He longed to lash out with the Cut, to tear this damned palace in two, to scream at the heavens for taking his unborn child from him. But no, he had to be strong for you right now. He could break later, but right now, you needed him.

You curled in on yourself, screaming yourself hoarse, tears drenching the front of your husband’s kefta. His own tears fell too, beading up on your hair as he held you tight to him. Logically, he knew that this pain would pass, it might take a long time, but it would. But now, Aleksander felt like he was at the bottom of the ocean, and all he wanted to do was swim down. He laid down next to you, wrapping his arms tight around you, clutching to you like a lifeline, sure as you were clinging to him as one. Your shoulders shook with your sobs, shattering Aleksander’s heart into dust. His cries were silent, biting his lip so he wouldn’t make a sound. You needed him to be strong now, he could shatter later.

The Healer had left the room, offering you your time to break. But Aleksander heard the door open and shut softly, and he turned to look at the young woman. She spoke in hushed tones to him, as you were too far gone in your grief to truly listen. But you caught phrases, “...procedure….” “...removal…” “...completely painless…” What did it matter? Your baby was gone.

Aleksander didn’t leave your side once; only vacated the bed and moved to sit at your side so the Healers could work. They did so in relative silence, only speaking to one another when necessary. When it was done, the head Healer said only four words: “A girl, moya soverennyi.” A sob left your mouth, and Aleksander bowed his head. “Leave us,” he said, voice ragged. The Healers bowed and left, shutting the door silently behind them.

Your husband crawled back into bed with you, kicking off his boots as he did. You gravitated to him, burying your face in his chest as you cried. You wound your arms around his middle, gripping like a vice, but Aleksander needed it too. He needed to be held, and even if you were a mess, in all honesty, you were offering him comfort as well. “My love,” he whispered, voice wavering. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, only held him tighter, but the sentiment was clear. I’m sorry too.

Aleksander held you for hours, rubbing your back through your sobs, smoothing your hair from your face, making you drink water so you wouldn’t dehydrate. After 4 hours, you’d tired yourself out enough that you fell asleep, tears still leaking from your closed eyes. Aleksander slowly rose from bed, tucking the blankets over your shoulders. He knew he wouldn’t get a chance to see Ivan for a while, and there were things he needed to tell him.

He found the Heartrender in the War Room, Fedyor behind him. “Moi soverennyi,” Ivan bowed. “We heard, and we are so very sorry.” “Thank you,” Aleksander said, monotone. “I’ll be unavailable for the foreseeable future.” “Of course, sir.” “Ivan, Fedyor, you are my most trusted men. Therefore, I leave both of you in charge. Short of civil war, no one is to call on me, understood?” “Yes, sir,” the Heartrenders chorused. “Let no one in our rooms except for yourselves, Genya, and servants. Leave.”

Ivan and Fedyor bowed and left, closing the door to the War Room behind them. Then and only then did Aleksander let himself break. He screamed, falling to his knees with grief, his power flooding out of him. The Cut lashed out from both hands, tearing a map of Ravka in two on his right, shattering the windows on his left. But Aleksander didn’t hear it, he only heard his own voice, crying out in anguish. The tears flowed freely now, tracking down his face, puddling on the hardwood floor. There could very well be another Unsea right here, what with the pain Aleksander felt, but he restrained himself. He collapsed fully, lying on the cold hard floor, sobbing for his daughter, for the little girl he’d never meet.

That was where you found him hours later. You’d awoken from a restless sleep to a damp pillow and an empty bed. So you’d risen, pulled your robe over your shoulders, and exited the bedroom. Fedyor was stationed outside the door, and he bowed. “Moya soverennyi,” he greeted. “Where is my husband?” you asked, voice virtually gone. “He is in the War Room, ma’am.” “Thank you.” You set off through the corridors, feeling like a ghost in your own home. The door was shut, and you heard soft cries from the other side.

He was on the floor, curled in on himself, sobbing. “Aleksander,” you said, closing the door behind you. You made your way over to him, kneeling at his side. He lifted his face to look at you, his grey eyes bloodshot. “Y/N,” he whimpered. “Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He dissolved into tears again, and you opened your arms, which he immediately fell into. Aleksander buried his face in your chest, arms around your waist, holding onto you like you might evaporate.

“Sasha,” you sighed, stroking his back, doing the best you could to comfort him. “Sasha, I know.” “Our little girl,” he wept. “Our daughter. Saints, our little girl. I’m so sorry.” “Aleksander,” you said, bending your head to rest it atop his. “I know. We lost her.” Saying the words made it real, and Aleksander felt like the ground had opened up beneath him. “I’m so sorry, Sasha.” You began to cry again, and that’s where the two of you stayed; on the floor of the War Room, in each other’s arms, grieving for the daughter you’d never meet.

The corridors were dark when you exited, hand in hand with your husband, slowly moving back to your rooms. When you arrived, there was a massive bouquet of pink roses on the side table. The note attached read: We are so deeply sorry for your loss. May the Saints receive her. -Alexander and Tatiana. The King and Queen had sent flowers (well, and aid had likely sent them). You teared up again, wiping them from your face as you dressed for bed.

Aleksander pulled you into his arms as you laid down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, then finally, your lips. “I love you, Y/N, he whispered into the dark. “I will always love you. And I love our little girl.” “I love you too, Aleksander,” you replied, wiping a tear from his cheek. “And I love her too. I’ll always love her.” He nodded, stroking your side gently. “It hurts,” you said, forehead against his chest. “It hurts so bad.” “I know. But it will fade. Not for a while, but it will. The sun will rise on this, Y/N, I promise.”

***

The next morning, you woke to Genya setting a vase of flowers on the nightstand, one of what looked to be hundreds. “Good morning,” she said softly. “What are all these?” you asked, and Genya smiled. “Condolences from all over the country. And Fjerda, Kerch, Novyi Zem, the Shu Han.” “Wow,” you breathed, feeling more tears spring to your eyes. You didn’t blink them away, but let them fall. “This is from David,” Genya said, handing you a small box. Inside was a ring bearing your birthstone, Aleksander’s, and what would have been your daughter’s. An inscription was on the inside: She returns to the Making At The Heart Of The World.

You couldn’t hold back the broken sob that left your throat, yet you smiled. “Thank you, Genya. It’s perfect. Tell David I love it.” Aleksander had woken and sat up behind you, taking your hand in his, looking at the ring. “Give David my thanks as well,” he said, sliding the ring onto your fingers, above your wedding band and engagement ring. “I will. And I’m so sorry for your loss.” “Thank you, Genya,” you managed, feeling more tears building. “I’ll go now,” she said, taking your hand and squeezing it, before exiting.

Aleksander pulled you into his lap, kissing your forehead, sweet and lingering. “How are you feeling today?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. “Like my heart’s been ripped in half,” you said, and your husband nodded. “Me too,” he said, lying back down with you in his arms. “It’s… grief beyond words. But we’ll get through this.” “Yeah,” you agreed, though you didn’t feel it at all. But you would; you had your husband, and he had you. He, along with your friends, would pull you from this darkness and back into the light. It would take time, but the sun would shine again.

#aleksander morozova x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #tw #tw: miscarriage #the darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader

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cherryjuicegf · 3 years

Text

death of a poet

for @whataboutthebard september 16 whump prompt: major character death || geraskier, T, 1.8k, angst, implied/referenced suicide (kind of)

ao3

The greatest act of love, they say, is to die for it.

Jaskier laughed, always laughed at this concept. There’s no doubt, of course, one’s whole life lost as a declaration of love, the highest sacrifice. But not the only one. And it amazed him, how people never seemed to acknowledge anything else, how fairytales of noble knights ended with them throwing their lives away, and for what? For love. Always for love. There was no doubt, and if there was, who was he to utter it?

Still. He wondered, the roots of the poet he was meant to be growing inside him, blooming since childhood. And he wondered, why, why die for love, why not live for it? Why waste this blooming of hearts in the eternal darkness, in grief and the wailing complaint of what could have been? Why, when there is so much beauty in the love of living things? He wondered, always wondered. And his mother smiled, with this faint bitterness of unexpected knowledge, and whispered, you can live for love if you want, sweet child, but one day you’ll understand.

Yet he didn’t understand. And he hated it, hated that he didn’t. Hated that he couldn’t find anything to try and understand in the first place. One day he would understand, yet people smiled at him, flowers bloomed in spring, birds sang on the branches, the wine tasted so sweet and the strings of the lute sounded so magical in the evening hush. And he wondered, always wondered, when would the day come, and what greater love there is, that you’re willing to die for it, even if you don’t lay eyes upon it ever again?

The fire in the hearth suddenly goes out.

A tragic fate, the mage had laughed. True love’s kiss. No one could ever love a monster.

I love him. He’s not a monster.

He’s not?

Geralt’s eyes are glowing in a light Jaskier hasn’t seen before, in a light he never wishes to see again. They’re glowing, and something unworldly glows with them, laughs with the evil memory of fairy tales, and evil sorceresses and true love’s kisses. As the blade glistens dangerously close to his eyes, as he walks backward in trembling steps, he thinks they’re so far away from what would make a beautiful fairytale to tell children before sleep. There will be no happy ending here. Somehow he knows.

There’s a tickle on his fingertips, burning.

The sword whips beside his ear and he stumbles back once more, panting, breath coming out strained. He raises his head, looks at Geralt. Or what he remembers was Geralt. Because now what he sees seems foreign, cold, and the amber in his eyes doesn’t warm him like the sun anymore, instead burns, like a fire which he willingly, inevitably steps into. There’s a lump caught in his throat, a sob screaming to get out. And, as though on instinct, with the strongest pang of guilt numbing his bones, he has to remind himself. He’s not a monster, he’s not a monster. He’s not Geralt. Geralt is not a monster.

For a moment, for the barest of seconds, he meets Geralt’s, no, the man’s eyes and, like the fool, like the poet he is, he hopes. “Geralt,” he says and his voice shakes weakly with the terrifying hint of denial, “Geralt, it’s me, please.” The air is ripped by the blade once again, he steps back, eyes still locked with amber. A whimper. “Come back to me, love, please. I love you, come back.”

For a moment, for the barest of seconds, the sun entering from the narrow, stained window reflects on Geralt’s eyes and something familiar glints behind them, a distant scream of a heart wailing to get out. But it’s only for a moment. Because Geralt growls and lowers his sword again with maniacal force and Jaskier screams, ducks and falls on his knees in an ironic parody of a plea for mercy. There’s a feeling of wetness on his bicep and he hisses as crimson blood stains the white sleeve. Not his fault, Jaskier reminds himself, not his fault.

It’s not his fault, yet he wants to cry as he stares into his eyes, cold like the blade that threatens to tear him to pieces, cold like the countless winter nights he’s spent without him, cold like his hand as he grasps it desperately, pushes him back in a failed attempt to trap him, in a foolish, hopeless hope of making him throw the sword away.

A true love’s kiss, he thinks, and almost laughs, because it sounds more like a death wish. And he’s starting to think it will be.

And then he sees Geralt raising his hand and before he has time to think about it, he’s being swept back with the most violent wind, and falls head first on the wall behind him. And slumps to fall on his knees. But there’s a sudden sting on his abdomen and he opens his eyes just in time to see the silver blade pointed on tender skin and jolts back with a gasp, stuck on the wall. “Fuck, Geralt,” he pants and looks at him and, for some reason, he expects his stare to be requited. It is. But it’s empty. It’s empty, and the sword on his stomach tickles painfully and the room is whirling. He blinks hard, gasps again. He can’t hold on, he knows.

And as he gazes at Geralt, he remembers. Warmth. Faint smiles, fingers down his back. Lips tasting of sweet wine, and flowers on his hair, and sleepy eyes staring at him before dropping, and love, and safety, and home . And finally, finally he understands.

He hates that he understands. But then again, the blade is cold like a hug full of regrets and Geralt’s eyes are empty and, oh, what he wouldn’t give to see those eyes, familiar and warm and looking at him again, even if it’s for the last time. He hasn’t much left to give, truth be told. Only his hope, and his life, and he feels them both competing for which is going to reach the end of the line.

“Geralt,” he whispers, again, and that spare root of hope he had starts to rot. “Geralt, please, don’t...” Are those tears? His eyes are burning. “Wake up, love, it’s me.”

What hope? He knows there is not. He knows, because it’s empty, forever empty, and the blade stings deeper and he pleads, Geralt, Geralt, Geralt, as if it means anything anymore, as if it’s Geralt.

He understands. And knows, if he’s to die, he has to die the way he lived, by love, as a poet. For love, then. As a poet, and for love.

So he straightens himself, eyes steady on Geralt. And takes a step forward against the blade.

It’s numbing, the pain. Another step. He gasps, chokes on his own blood. Another step, and Geralt stares, empty, blade steady in place as though on purpose, but there’s a familiar glint somewhere in there now, a familiar fear. Jaskier is close. His feet are giving in, his breath is shortening, and it’s a pity really, such a torturous death.. He’s close. So close that he can rest on Geralt’s shoulder, and he feels the blade ripping his flesh, his insides, his everything. He coughs up blood, chokes, eyes rolling to the back of his head. And he feels the blade dripping behind him. And he feels Geralt’s breath on his skin. So he cups his face in a shaking hand, and leans in.

It’s nothing. A brush of lips, tender in all its agony. It’s nothing. The world is blurring. It’s love.

It’s nothing.

The sword slips away as he falls, leaving behind nothing but a puddle of unending blood and slowly consuming darkness and he thinks, it’s supposed to be bright, it’s supposed to hurt less now.

He thinks, he’s supposed to spare himself from Geralt’s anguished look when he comes to, and realizes.

Instead.

“Jaskier!”

He doesn’t feel the pain. Only his body, lifted from the floor, and the scorching blood and the arms, those arms that hold him so tight he wants to scream all the apologies, all the regrets of the world. He doesn’t need to. They all echo in Geralt’s eyes.

It’s sweet, the pain. It’s melodic, the plea. Jaskier, please, stay with me, you fool, you’re alright, stay with me.

He wants to laugh. He’s long gone.

The greatest act, to die for love. A fitting ending, for a poet. He wishes someone will write it, this story, their story, and maybe give it a happier ending. Maybe they will go to the coast. Maybe they’ll end up closing their eyes together, holding each other tight, and maybe there’s no blood, only bitter tears of happiness.

It’s a fairytale. It can’t be tragic.

I love you, you’ll be alright, please, please don’t leave me alone.

A forehead pressed against his and he stares at Geralt and, oh, how he misses him already, and how bright he looks in his sorrow, how beautiful behind the veil that slowly falls between them. Jaskier parts his lips, chokes. “Geralt,” he croaks and it sounds like a sob uttered by every single wilting flower in the world. “Geralt, look at me.” He raises a trembling hand on his face, his fingertips leaving smudges of blood over the falling tears.

Geralt doesn’t look. Only stares at the wound, and back at Jaskier, unfocused, horrified, numb, as though it won’t happen if he doesn’t acknowledge.

It’s darker now, and there’s a last grip holding him back, and Jaskier knows it’s the warmth of Geralt’s hug, always is. “If I die for you, will you live for me, love?” he whispers and finally, finally Geralt turns at him, eyes wide, and Jaskier smiles, something close to a wince, as though it’ll hurt less like that, letting go.

Geralt shakes his head. “If I refuse will you stay alive?”

A huff. Painful. “No. No, I don’t think so.” It’s silent like the breeze now, his voice. Jaskier wipes the rivers of tears on Geralt’s cheek and smiles again, and this time it’s genuine, probably because it’s the last one. “It’s alright, hush. You’re not alone.” Shaking, he removes silver strands away from Geralt’s eyes, and slumps, leans on his shoulder as though finally resting. “Hush now, my love. Let me look into your eyes one last time.”

He does. He looks. It’s the same eyes, same as always, warm and loving, like a tender caress.

To die for love. How tragic. But what is a poet’s love, if not the most heart-wrenching tragedy?

The bloodied hand gently falls on the floor.

There’s a streak of red light coming through the stained window, and rests on blue eyes, mistaking them for the peaceful sea after a storm in their stillness.

They stare, forever open, and somehow forever warm.

They stare, and Geralt finally stares back. And slowly, agonizingly, like a sob echoing in eternity between the pages of every promised fairytale, he screams.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #major character death #cursed geralt #chrysa writes #what about the bard #watb #fic recs #angst #you know i had to do it to em #i don't really like this but ehhh

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seiyasabi · 3 years

Text

Yamaguchi’s Awakening

(Here’s a Yandere Yamaguchi Tadashi x Female Reader story :PP I know you only mentioned a Mommy fic, but I kinda added a lil more ‘spice’ to that lol, so I hope that’s okay! If not, feel free to message me! Also, he’s known the stutter, so I made it a bit prevalent in the story. Sorry if that’s annoying.

TW: !Noncon/dubcon!, Mommy kink!, !You are p mean lol, Painslut Yama!, Masochist Yama!, You physically fight him but he loves it, practically wrestles you to the floor!, thigh fucking, creampie!, Calls himself baby boy but alternates that w ‘pig slut!’, etc..

Please proceed with caution!)

You woke up to Tadashi’s moans, eyes practically popping open in both terror and confusion. You’d taken a nap whilst waiting for him to come home from work, but you hadn’t expected to wake up to such a lewd sound.

Pushing yourself up with shaky arms, your slip’s thin straps slide off of your moisturised shoulders, causing more of your cleavage to show in the skimpy garment. Tired eyes land on the green haired man’s slumped form, his long, lean body practically falling off of a plush chair on the other side of the room. His large hand is fisting his cock at an alarming pace, while his hips stutter upwards to meet his ministrations.

“What the hell are you doing?” You frown in mild annoyance, scoffing in disgust. Is he really getting off to your sleeping form?

“Mu-Mommy!” His face is pulled into the perfect Ahegao expression, tongue lolling out stupidly, as drool drips down his chin. Beads of sweat intermix with his perfectly scattered freckles, and if it weren’t for the fact that Tsukishima helped him kidnap you, you most likely would have found it arousing, “Puh-Please pu-punish me! I-I’m such a-a bad boy!”

Screwing your face up in disgust, you practically spit venom at him, “Oh my God, you’re fucking disgusting. How dare you-”

With a loud whine, he cums. His liquidy release coats his chest in large streaks, partially splashing himself in the face with his own spunk. The liquid creates a large puddle on the floor, demonstrating just how much semen he’s stored in his purple tinged balls. The sight before you has left you absolutely speechless, as Tadashi keens and whines for you to punish him.

“Please, please, Mommy! I-I need you to-”

“What the actual fuck did I just witness?” Your eyes never leave the puddle on your room’s wood look tile, “Oh my God, you’re such a disgusting pervert.”

At your words, the freckled man practically throws his naked body onto your lap, “Yu-you chose me! That means that you love me, right? A-and if Mommy loves me, she should punish me for being bad! Please hit me!” His previously softened cock is now standing back at attention, humping at your exposed legs.

One of your perfectly manicured hands (thanks to Yamaguchi’s hard work) shoves his head off of your stomach, “Get the fuck off of me! Clearly, I chose wrong, because you’re just a slobbering pig!” Tears bead his large eyes, but the tall man doesn’t back down. He continues to try to rut against you, causing your shoves to become more violent, until you effectively shove him off of your bed. He lands on the hard ground with a ‘smack,’ as he moans on impact.

“Ye-yes! Hi-hit me mu-more! I de-deserve it, your baby bu-boy deserves it!” He tries once more to crawl his way onto you, but you react far quicker than him. You use the ball of your foot to push him away by the forehead, dropping him back onto the cold floor.

“Stay the fuck away from me! I knew I should’ve liked your asshole for a best friend, at least he wouldn’t be such a fucking weirdo!” You push yourself off of your bed, trying to escape to the bathroom, but it’s to no avail. Tadashi, in some sort of lucidity, drags you to the ground with him. His lean form tries to trap you to the floor, but your thrashing limbs and harsh elbows keep him from getting too close, “Stop it! Let go of me-”

“Du-don’t say you want someone else! Your precious piggy will do anything you want! Let your baby boy make his Mommy feel good!” You end up on your back, allowing your hands to worm their way between the two of you, and create a small distance. Taking full advantage of that, you get a single hand up by your face, which gives you the perfect opportunity to slap the dogshit out of the feral man.

He moans breathily, as if he’s savouring the feeling of your harsh touches, “You’re fucking pathetic, Yamaguchi. No one would willingly choose you, which is why you lied and manipulated me!” You smack him multiple more times, his freckled, drooly cheeks quickly becoming bright red. You force your knees against his toned stomach, kneeing him uncomfortably in the ribs, which he just pushed more of his weight on.

“Yes! Yes! Tell me more of the things you hate about me! Your harsh words are almost enough to make me cum!” Screwing up your face in absolute fury, you punch him in the throat, whilst simultaneously kicking him in the cock, causing him to cum immediately with a small scream, “Mu-Mommy, your piggy is cumming!” His hot, watery cum lands on your slip clad body, making you want to vomit. So, in a last ditch effort, you shove him off whilst he’s still recovering from a second intense orgasm.

Scrambling to your feet, you make a break for the bathroom door, only to be dragged down to the floor by a firm grip on your ankle. Tadashi’s hot, wet body slots itself on top of yours, effectively pinning you down. Although he may be quite slim, his sheer size is enough to weigh you down.

“Get off of me! You’re fucking sick!” He pants next to your ear, practically trying to mount you like a dog. His chest is firmly against your back, pushing down your lower half. His knees spread yours apart, allowing him to slot himself between your legs.

You try to hit him, but because he’s behind you, your hits don’t land very hard. Both of his hands fumble whilst he tries to push your panties down, causing you to thrash even more than before. Growing tired of your ministrations, he rips the garment from your pussy.

“Stop it! Yamaguchi, get off of me! Don’t do this to me!” Tears drip down your face in thick rivulets, as you sob in pure fury, “I-I’ll never forgive you! I’ll never forgive a pathetic fuck like you! I should have never become your friend- you don’t deserve any!” He lightly moans at your words, not quite listening to what you have to say, but enjoying your harsh tone.

“Ye-yes, Mommy! Threaten me! I love how you belittle me so well!” He then tries to force his long cock inside of you, but is unsuccessful. You’d just barely moved your thighs together in time, blocking him from breaching your unprepared walls. But, that doesn’t seem to faze him, as he starts to hump your sweat slickened thighs, “Oh-oh my God, your thighs feel so good, Mommy! Your piggy slut loves them!” His eyes are practically rolling to the back of his head, as multiple squirts of precum escape his cock, slicking your pussy opening inadvertently.

You throw your elbows at his head again, but he just lets them hit him, relishing your harsh blows. If anything, your attempted hits trigger him to hump you even faster. Which, in turn, unfortunately, causes him to accidentally hook his cockhead on your cunny opening, and force his prick inside of you. Your mouth gapes in both shock and pain, as you let out a shrill scream. He slams a sweaty hand over your mouth, fortunately minding your nose, letting you breathe through it. His entire body is convulsing, as he sits inside of you, relishing your twitching walls around his cock.

“Mu-Mommy’s piggy lu-loves Mommy’s pu-pussy!” In quick, sudden movements, he bucks his hips into yours, his breeder balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. Your pants and light moans are muffled behind his hand, as you continue to cry and try to get free. Your thrashing does nothing but seat you further on his long cock, allowing him to hit your g-spot with every movement. Your pussy gushes at his ministrations, as you fall limp, “Fu-fuck, Mommy! Mommy, I-I’m gunna cum!”

Your slack mouth tries to deny him, but your eyes practically roll up into your skull as you cum suddenly, spraying girl cum on his cock and on the floor below your chest, practically covering your entire torso. Feeling your orgasm milking his cock, Yamaguchi cums quickly after you, filling you to the brim with his watery, overabundant cum. It was like he was trying to fill every crevice inside of you with his milk, relishing how well you take him. You practically collapse to the ground, no longer having the strength to hold yourself off of the now slick wood look tile. This, in turn, causes his still cumming cock to fall out of you, spraying your ass and thighs with his seed.

Yamaguchi strokes himself, trying to wring out as much cum as possibly on your crumpled, fucked out form. He looks down at you with an innocent grin, before smooching you kindly on the face, “Thank you, Mommy, your baby boy feels sooo much better, now that I’ve filled your pretty cunny! Do you want a bath?”

You say nothing, seemingly still in shock at what just transpired. Yams coos at you, trying to gain your attention, but when you don’t respond, he takes it upon himself to clean you up.

“It’s okay, sometimes when Tsukki would experiment with me, I’d be too sore to move, too! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re all pretty and clean after a long, hot bath.”

With wobbly legs, the tall man stalks off to the bathroom, not batting an eye at your weird silence.

#yandere yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #tadashi x reader #yandere haikyuu imagines #hq yamaguchi #haikyuu yamaguchi

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bubblyhoney · 3 years

Text

buncha kisses

warnings: mature language, Good music mention, slight suggestive content, lotta name calling!, basically just fluff

tags: sapnap x fem!reader (a continuation of [renamed from “a collection of moments at the beginning of your relationship”] win for me, basically, with college!au)

words: 1447

A/N: a very sweet anon requested a continuation of college!au with sappy and had some great ideas for me! i love when you guys interact and talk with me pls continue to do so! been receiving a lot of really encouraging attention from some of my favorite people (ahem, for example @strawberrymilkgeorge [among others] <3) so i just wanted to say thanks for that :)

It’s a sticky day in May.

It’s that kind of hot that irritates under the skin and works its way through the hair on your arms. Makes you want to either rip your skin off or sink into a pool full of ice.

May is a month that Florida doesn’t take very well; it’s either raining like it’s the Great Flood, or hot as a mosquito’s ball sack.

And to make matters worse, it’s the due date of a huge calculus project. Like— weighted heavier than the final kind of huge.

You’d gotten up three hours before your final at 9 just to cram. Your desk was littered with folders, chapter notes, and highlighters dull with use. A half-eaten bagel was off to the side, staling by the second.

That was before your AC broke. Yup. Broke. Ka-put. Just full on died—it was almost audible. Your roommate had stumbled into your room, face creased with sleep, and cursed for thirty seconds straight.

Completely understandable, actually.

But you didn’t have time to fret about the damn temperature. You just took your shirt off, kicked the box fan near your bed into the highest gear, and breathed hot anger down into your notes.

The only relief you would find would be lunch with Sapnap after your final. His apartment had air conditioning, and he was surprisingly deft with a knife and cutting board. Dude didn’t know how to figure the mechanics for emailing his film class project to you that one time last semester but could whip up a Greek salad and broiled chicken like no other. Your own little Gordon Ramsey.

He was yours now, officially. As of last month he was yours. A month full of drive-in movies, failed study dates, and an absurd amount of McFlurry’s.

And that’s what is waiting for you in Sapnap’s cup holder when you swing your way into his car with an exasperated look on your face. You just melt, eyes flicking up to his gratefully and silently taking it.

“How was the final?” He lays a hand on the gear shifter and nudges the AC up one more tick. The door closes behind you and you shuffle your legs apart, leg hair tingling in this heat.

“It was fucking brutal. I think I developed an ulcer just looking at the reference page,” you huff and he just shakes his head, laugh hot on his lips. “Absolutely not worth the studying—think I got a good grade, though.”

“Well, that’s cool. I’m proud of you.” The engine chugs to life when he shifts into drive and starts for the side street.

“Thanks.” Your cheeks blush ever so lightly but you pass it off to the heat. A moment passes. “So.” The straw makes a choking noise as it nudges at the bottom of an empty cup. Jesus, you finished that fast. “What’s on the menu for today?” Brandy’s Sunny Day lilts softly into the blasting air as you settle into a comfortable conversation, schoolwork at the back of your mind.

“Thinking of making banana chocolate chip muffins and pigging on those. Thoughts?” Flicking on his left turn signal with his left hand, the right slides onto your knee.

It’s never too hot for that.

“Sounds perfect,” you reply, voice small in a sudden bout of shyness. He double-takes with a smile, squeezing once at your leg.

Pigging is a perfect term for what you two do the second those muffins are out of the oven; it is too easy to shove three of those in a matter of seconds. Bellies full and in a sugar coma, you two lay under the whirring of his living room’s fan and stare up at the ceiling.

“This feels so good,” he mumbles, eyes half-lidded. Reaching a hand out, he pats his way to your hand and takes it, immediately squeezing it. “Wish you were kissing me right now.”

“Oh, yeah?” You taunt and hike a leg up onto his hips, swinging onto his lap and leaning to get your lips near his.

And that’s that.

The night is perfect.

Sapnap ushered you into his car at midnight and within four minutes you were on a US freeway with your head out the window. Like a dog.

A lone bird flies past in the dark air and you watch it swing into a patch of trees. You just close your eyes and breathe.

The stress literally melts. Melts into a puddle and drips out of you, falling onto the black pavement whipping past at a moment’s notice. School is a bitch already, much less an American college education. Grades and tests and professors and GPA’s and all that.

You swear Logan Lerman’s character knew what he was talking about when he said “we were infinite” in The Perks of Being A Wallflower. That’s what this feels like: infinity. Going 70 in a car driven by your hunk of a boyfriend, feeling the wind in your hair and the taste of midnight in between your teeth.

The inside of the car feels sweet when you duck your head back in, smile wide and hair crazy and a content look in your eyes. Sapnap gives you a glance before looking back at the road nonchalantly and lifting to curl and twitch two fingers at you. You instinctively move forward, eyebrows drawn together in curiosity. Three fingers grip your jaw tight, and then his mouth is on yours as the chorus of The King swells through the speakers. You only get two seconds to hum in happiness and slide a hand up his chest before he’s pulling away and has those beautiful eyes back on the road.

“You’re mean to me,” you sigh, and settle back into your seat with a ‘hmph’. He just looks smug. Bastard.

The nights Sapnap plays video games with his friends are—hm. Definitely something. You like to let him have those nights with no distractions most of the time; and you’re categorized as a distraction by the amount of times he “lags” when giving you a kiss or getting you on his lap.

Tonight, he got off work early and on the drive home called and asked if you’d come over and sit with him while he Robloxes with his friends. (“It’s like you can’t go one day without your hands on me,” you’d teased, but he couldn’t say a thing in response. You were right, needless to say.) “You can bring your paints!” he’d even added, knowing you like to watercolor as a hobby. You weren’t necessarily Etsy-worthy but it was fun and a stress-reliever.

And so here you were. Legs crossed, sketch pad in your lap, watching your adult boyfriend yell so loud that his voice cracks and breaks with every change of tone. You really had to remember to apologize to his neighbors…

“Baby—,” Sapnap starts, swinging around in his chair to hit you with a look so pouty his lip was in danger of falling off. “My dear girlfriend. My lovely woman.” His question doesn’t even need to be asked— he wants you to go get him a drink.

“You’re a misogynist. I’m calling NOW on you.” But you’re already heaving yourself off of his mattress and heading into the hallway, faux-annoyed look on your face. It melts into a smile upon seeing that little canvas mounted on the wall next to the door to his bathroom. It was a haphazard portrait of his parent’s dog Bowser that you’d drawn the few days his step-mom forced him to bring you home over spring break.

When you return to his room a few minutes later with a Bang and a couple of snacks for yourself, Sapnap has his headphones off and is swinging his feet in his chair like a child waiting for their parents to pick them up from school. You approach him, apprehensive smile on your face, and hand his drink over.

“Thank you,” he drawls, mid-yawn, and sets it down on the desk. Snaking an arm around your waist, he drags you between his legs and stuffs his face into your shirt. He inhales deeply but pulls away after a pause, hands tight on your abdomen. You press a thumb into his cheek and rub fondly at his facial hair, watching the way his eyes close calmly and relax.

“You’re so cute it causes me physical pain,” is all you get out before leaning and pressing a kiss square on his pink lips. They move against yours like they were meant to, one hand sliding up the material of your shirt and onto your warm skin.

“You smell like Subway,” he murmurs, and then the moment’s over.

Typical.

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D let me know what you think in the comments!

#sapnap #mcyt #sapnap x reader #sapnap x fem!reader #sapnap x you #sapnap fluff #sapnap fic #sapnap one shot #sapnap oneshot #mcyt imagine #mcyt x you #bubblyhoneyfics

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onecantsimply · 2 years

Note

Ok since we can request platonic for the adults, En adopting a wild forest child sorcerer. They have nature powers to like can turn people into plays or cause plants to grow. You can say no I don’t mind at all! Also your writing is amazing!

Thank you for the compliment.

And I will love to write about En because I feel like he’s a bit underrated-

He’s got more attention than the Cross Eye group though-

This might be way longer than usual oneshots-

En favoritism-

“…” En sighed. He looked down at the floor with a slightly disgusted expression. “There’s critters everywhere… Maybe I should have brought my broom after all… I’m too deep in to get out anyways…”

En was in search for a certain Sorcerer that lived in the forest.

Originally, he would have them brought to him.

But since his goons were busy with a lot of things, particularly at this time of the year, En had to do things himself.

“Now where would someone like this be?” He looked up at the trees. “…” The male then grabbed a folded paper out of his pocket before looking at it in full.

((Y/n), apparently a Sorcerer with the ability to manipulate the forest life around them. -En)

He then looked forward.

(Alright, who’s looking at me? -En)

He looked around with his eyes before clipping his mask open.

(If it’s a critter, I swear to Chidaruma. -En)

He faintly shuddered until seeing a male run out of the bush.

He whimpered faintly before a wound on his shoulder ripped open.

The male yelped before falling to the floor.

“…” En faintly cringed until seeing a child walk out of the bush. They had some sticks and leaves in their hair. En cringed a bit as he saw them take the small objects out.

“Why, are you here?” The red haired male questioned.

“This is (Y/n)’s home.” The child answered and let their smoke hiss out of their fingers. The crops around covered the male’s body before taking it in, leaving a small puddle of blood left.

“…”

(No. Fucking. Way. (Y/n) is not a kid. -En)

His nonexistent eyebrows faintly furrowed before he took a few small breaths.

(No, no. This is probably just a random kid who knows them. -En)

The male got down on one knee.

“Alright then, can you direct me to them? I have some business with them, and I need to speak with them.” He spoke.

“You’re speaking with them right now.” The child smiled faintly. En felt something mentally slam against his head, making him hang it and stare at the floor with slight irritation.

“So I was right the first time…” He mumbled. En then looked at (Y/n).

“Mhm, and it’s (Y/n)’s job to keep others out of the forest.” En blinked.

“Well, you’re doing a terrible job. Two people already intruded, including me.” He said. (Y/n) looked up.

“… You’re right. (Y/n) has no place here. They can leave it to someone else.” En sighed faintly with relief.

“Then come with me. I have a place for you.” He said.

“Really?” (Y/n) blinked.

“Yeah. If you help me out of here, I’ll take you with me.” En answered.

“… Okay. (Y/n) agrees.” En grabbed the child’s wrist, taking them by slight surprise.

“Great. Tell me where to go so we can go home.” (Y/n) grabbed En’s sleeve and led him towards the entrance he came from.

In the process of doing so, En seemed completely disgusted.

He hated the critters, as well as forests. Anything with critters, he hated to his entire being.

“When we get home, I’m adopting you.” En spoke.

“Adopting?” (Y/n) looked at the male with a blink.

“Yes, taking you in. You’ll be my not directly connected kid, but someone I consider as my child.” (Y/n) blinked again before arching an eyebrow. “Let’s just go.” En pushed (Y/n) forward.

“Okay. (Y/n) trusts you. What’s your name?”

“En. Don’t bother calling me Dad.” The red haired male eyed (Y/n).

“(Y/n) has no idea of what a ‘Dad’ is. They have never seen it in their entire life of being in this forest.” En’s eyes softened a bit. Though, they went back to their usual sharp and intimidating shape. “En, have you ever experienced having a Dad? What is it like?” The male looked down with his eyes.

“… I never had one either. Neither did I have a Mom. I was supposed to take care of myself. But I got taken in by an awful smoke factory for seven years.” (Y/n) seemed to be confused while processing everything.

“… What’s a Mom?” They questioned.

“Like a Dad. But a Female.” En answered.

“What’s a smoke factory?” (Y/n) looked at the male. “Is it where they produce smoke like this?” (Y/n) let their smoke hiss out of their fingers.

“No.” En’s expression hardened. “It’s where Human-like Sorcerers capture middle or high ranked Sorcerers and force them to output smoke.” (Y/n) looked down.

“… To (Y/n), that sounds bad.”

Soon enough, the pair made their way out of the forest.

“Oh, thank Chidaruma…” En muttered. He put an arm around (Y/n)’s waist before picking them up, and getting on his smoke vehicle. As the smoke hissed out of the back of the broom, En got to steering it.

(Y/n) tightly clung to the male’s waist, restricting how he breathed just slightly.

“Loosen that grip of yours!” He spoke, looking down faintly.

“(Y/n) is startled. En, what is this?” (Y/n) looked down at the floor before looking forward again with silent shudders.

“It’s my broom! Now loosen that grip! I can’t breath!” En looked back at the child, seeing just how dully scared they were. “Keep your grip around me, but don’t go too tight. If I lose consciousness, this whole ride goes down.”

This was going to make (Y/n) hug tighter.

“Ugh, never doing that again…” En mumbled. He face palmed slightly while seeing a female goon washing (Y/n)’s hair.

They were all in the bath.

En was paranoid about getting diseases from (Y/n) since he thought they had never bathed before.

(Y/n) was utterly confused about the soap, and got it in their eye. They were under the water for a few minutes from the pain, conceding the goon and En if they were dead or not.

Eventually, the goons decided to give (Y/n) one of those hats that restricted soap from getting into their eyes. That seemed to work just fine.

“Boss, they’re all done.” The goon spoke while she opened the door. (Y/n) was moving around a bit in their new suit.

“En, this suit is too tight for (Y/n). (Y/n) think that they should move into something more comfortable.” They spoke, looking at the male.

“It’s important to look good.” He stepped forward and got on one knee before gently adjusting the bow on (Y/n)’s suit. “It gives a nice first impression.” En then got up. “You know how I look good?” He questioned.

“You certainly look different from what (Y/n) prefers.” The child nodded.

“Then what do you think of me?” En questioned.

“(Y/n) thinks you’re weird and different, but nice and curious.” They looked up slightly. “(Y/n) likes you.” En blinked. He compared some things (Y/n) said before softly nodding.

“I’ll take it.” He mumbled before nodding. “Well, next thing you need is an education.”

“What’s that?”

“Something that can help you further in life.” En looked back. “For now, get your rest. You deserve it for all the things you went through today.” (Y/n) blinked.

“Yes, sir.”

“I told you to call me En.”

“En.”

“Yeah.”

The male gently shut the door, and sighed.

“Children are irritating…” He mumbled.

“Boss, don’t get too attached.” The female goon gently tilted her head.

“I’m not getting attached.” En mumbled again.

“You’re already giving them better things than other Family members. You haven’t even signed the papers to properly adopt them.” En gently huffed.

“Whatever. They’re a kid, and I will treat them accordingly.”

#en dorohedoro #dorohedoro x reader #dorohedoro

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amostimprobabledream · 2 years

Text

a dusting of snow (Sylvain x Reader)

Birthday gift for my good friend @inkyveins! I hope you like it! <3 They say that the winters of Faerghus helped shape the mentality of the country. That their hardiness in battlefield and unyielding devotion is partly a result of their harsh winters, with icy winds blowing from the north and crops that struggle to thrive in such trying conditions. The landscape as far as the eye can see is awash with white, the trees glittering with frost and lakes frozen solid. It’s beautiful, in a brutal kind of way.

Personally, you have decided that you hate Faerghus.

Okay, maybe that's a bit unfair. You did't have much basis for comparison yet, since this was the first time you'd actually set foot in the Holy Kingdom, but you're really wishing someone had told you that it was this cold. The Blue Lions have all dressed accordingly, but there’s a difference between being told to dress warmly and mentally preparing for the coldest you’ve ever been in your life. The Leicester Alliance has winter, of course, but this just isn't the same.

It’s times like this that you really wished you’d learned to ride a horse, then you wouldn’t be the one with numb toes. You exhaled in annoyance as your foot slid yet again into another frozen puddle, the ice splintering beneath you, nearly filling your boot with freezing water if you hadn't yanked it out just in time before it oozed over the hem, hissing curses under your breath.

Nobody else seemed to be struggling the way you were, so you sourly kept schtum about it, since you didn't want to be accused of whining (looking at you, Felix). Besides, you keep hoping that Dimitri or Byleth would announce you're nearly at your destination soon, but each time you glanced at them at the head of the group, they seemed to be talking amongst themselves.

No such luck thus far.

An icy wind swept in from the left, blowing your hair over your face and making you stumble, landing on your knees in the snow that a squawk that is muffled by the hair that's somehow gotten into your mouth.

"Ghhf-!"

"Oh no!" Annette cried, hurrying over to you, and a brief, irrational spike of jealousy speared you at how easily the natives of Faerghus are able to move over the snow - it's like they've been blessed by Sothis herself not to slip and fall. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you lied, even though your knee had scraped something rough beneath the layer of snow, which had not only ripped the leg of your pants but also you could feel blood seeping over the split fabric, which is probably the only warmth you've felt for a while now.

You accepted Annette’s arm and got gingerly to your feet, giving her a strained smile. You knew soon this would be over and hopefully, maybe, you’d have won back Fhirdiad by the end of this. Not only would you have won back the capital city and struck a devastating blow against the stranglehold the Adrestian Empire has on the country, but you might finally feel warm for the first time in days.

“Thanks, Annette.”

“No problem!” she chirped, and kept on ahead, her job done. Mercedes gave you a sympathetic smile as she glanced your way. You were quietly surprised that Annette hadn’t fallen down as well in trying to help you, to be honest – her clumsiness was infamous at the monastery.

You sighed and pushed your hair out of your way.

"You know," a familiar voice said, sounding amused. "That's the…fourth time you've fallen down today."

You turned and shot a baleful look up at Sylvain, who looked annoyingly cosy from atop his horse. He was properly attired for the unforgiving Faerghus winter, of course, you could see that nearly everything he had on was lined with fur - his boots, gloves and even the collar of his armour was sporting some of the stuff. His nose held the slightest tint of pink to it, but on Sylvain it somehow managed to look charming. You were aware you were shivering and had to keep using a handkerchief to wipe discreetly beneath your nose whenever a strong gust of wind battered at your little group.

"Been watching me suffer, have you?" you asked in a stony tone of voice. You weren’t in the mood to be teased at the moment.

"Hey, hey, don't get mad.” Sylvain said, holding his hands up as if to ward off an impending blow, no doubt a habit he’s picked up from being friends with Ingrid. "It's not my fault we're marching on Fhirdiad in a snowstorm. And anyway, I might be able to offer a solution."

"Which is what?" you asked, cocking your head.

Sylvain was all smiles as he patted the front of his saddle and you blinked in surprise.

"You could come sit up here with me."

You stared at him and even though it's Sylvain, who flirted seemingly every time he drew breath, a blush rose to your face at his tone. Typical that even adverse weather conditions don't seem to damper his urge to sweet talk.

"What?" you blurted out, like a fool.

He tilted his head in a winsome way, the red of his hair a stark contrast to the world of white around you.

"Hey, you'll be far warmer up here than down there and you’re not going to trip over something else on horseback. Anyway, I certainly don't have a problem with snuggling."

He’s fine with far more than that, if the rumours that followed Sylvain everywhere are to be believed. You’d be a filthy liar if you said you couldn’t see the appeal – a tall, charming, witty redhead with a nice voice and the son and heir to a great noble house? He was a catch by anyone’s standards, but you also knew he was no fairytale prince with a charmed life. Sylvain had left a trail of broken hearts in his wake in his time at Garrag Mach, and you weren’t one to stick your hand in a trap knowing it would shut on you. You’d give him credit that he seemed to have calmed down since five years ago, but that wariness around him still made you hesitate.

“I’ll be fine.” you said, looking away.

He shrugged, breezy as usual, unruffled by your rejection.

"Suit yourself."

You watched his horse trotting ahead, tail swishing, and thanks to the fluff around its hooves, unbothered by the snow. You wiped your face on your sleeve and kept walking, even though the cut on your knee stung more and more with each step. You hoped you’d be able to get the blood off the inside of your breeches. The snow was falling more heavily now, blanketing the place in an unsettling silence that only Dimitri's army are around to break.

The hill grew steeper, and your insides seemed to plummet as you looked up the incline.

Oh, no...

You froze, metaphorically, in place, as the others headed uphill with a kind of grim confidence that must embody the Faerghus spirit of continuing on no matter how bleak things seemed. But you could already imagine your thighs cramping as you walked, the ache from trying to stay upright and deal with the lack of traction…

Before you knew it, most of the others had continued their relentless march forward and you startled back to earth, realising you were still just standing there in a daze.

"Hey, don't fall behind!" Sylvain called over to you, his voice just audible over the wind. "If you get lost here, you'll probably turn into an icicle!"

"Funny…" you muttered through chattering teeth.

"C'mon." Sylvain said, his tone gentler as he approached on his horse, which kicked up snow as it went, holding out a hand to you. "Offer still stands, sweetheart."

You peered up at him through the haze and his face was surprisingly earnest as he looked down at you. Was that concern you can see in those honey-coloured eyes of his? The thought made you feel unfairly warm inside, like someone's lit kindling deep in the pit of your stomach.

"Oh...all right," you said, unable to keep the note of gratitude out of your voice, reaching out and putting your hand in his.

"That's my girl."

Before you could respond to that, Sylvain easily tugged you up, fingers curling around your hand and you could practically hear the soles of your feet sighing in relief that you didn't have to walk anymore. You settled awkwardly on the saddle in front of Sylvain, trying to get your bearings and hyperaware of the fact your ass was probably brushing up against him.

"Jeez, you weren't kidding when you said you weren't used to Faerghus weather," Sylvain remarked, resting a hand on your arm for a moment before drawing it back. "You’re freezing. And - hey! You're bleeding! Did you do that when you fell?"

"It's not a big deal," you said, wishing he'd keep his voice down.

Sylvain clicked his tongue.

“The tough act is cute, but do you really think now’s the time for it?” he asked you, not exactly disapproving but losing some of that breeziness in his voice you’re so used to hearing. “We can’t afford to have anybody dropping from an infection at this crucial hour, you know.”

You made a face, feeling a little indignant at being chided by Sylvain, of all people, but you’re not so stubborn you can’t admit that he’s right. Even a small cut can turn nasty if left untreated, so it’s a good thing that you’re on your way to somewhere that should have a decent medical bay – even if Fhirdiad itself is in Empire clutches, the people there still yearn for Prince Dimitri to come back and fight for them. The army will have support for the upcoming battle, make no mistake.

“I have some vulnerary’s but I was saving them in case we get ambushed on the way here,” you admitted. “I’ll get it looked at when we stop.”

“Hold on just a sec,” Sylvain said. “Take the reins for me, will you?”

You blinked, surprised by the request, but you did as instructed, fumbling a bit with your gloves while Sylvain reached into a pocket sewn into the inner lining of his cloak. He stuffed something into your hand – a little tub of healing salve. Of course, Sylvain would be smart enough to carry this kind of thing around. He’s friends with Dimitri and Felix, he knows how handy stuff like this can be in a pinch.

“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling a little humbled. First, he’s pulling you out of a snowdrift and now giving you healing salve. For all your suspicions about his true motives, he really does have his comrade’s best interests at heart.

You carefully unscrewed the lid of the salve and dabbed some of it onto your cut. It stung a bit, but you can tell it’s doing some good. Hopefully it might have scabbed over by tomorrow, so you don’t have to worry about it during the battle. You’re also pleasantly surprised to note the salve smells kind of nice, like somebody crushed some flowers into it.

“Sylvain?” you asked.

“Mmm-hmm?” he responded in a low hum.

“Do you really think we can win against the Empire?” you asked him in hushed tones, like you’re speaking in a church or library. “I know the Faerghus noble families have been resisting their forces for five years now, but everyone is running out of supplies and energy. This feels like it’s the final big push, you know?”

He takes a second to consider before answering you.

“Hmm…the way I see it, it’s not so much a question of ‘if’.” Sylvain replied, his tone unusually somber. “It’s more like, we have to. We can’t look at it with the possibility of ‘what if’ in our heads. I agree with you, with resources stretched so thin up here, this is the moment that might completely change things. So we have to act like winning is inevitable and fight accordingly. At least, that’s how I look at it. Save the doubting for when we have the luxury.”

It’s a simple enough philosophy, but you’re struck by how sure he sounds. Of course, you know Sylvain is aware as well as anyone that losing is a very real possibility, that everything is riding on Byleth’s shoulders right now. But seeing this battle as a victory you have to work hard to grasp, instead of a potential looming defeat, definitely seems like the better mindset. He’s good at compartmentalising, you’ll give him that much.

“Who knew you could be so profound?” you teased him, with a playful nudge.

“Hey, you know what they say. Ladies love a brooding intellectual.” Sylvain replied with a soft chuckle. Of course, he’s always far more at ease with playful banter than anything too serious. “Hey, you’re still shivering. Honestly, you guys from the Leicester Alliance have no real grasp of the cold, do you?”

“Excuse me for coming from a warmer climate.” You responded, now more amused than frustrated. “I don’t know how you guys stand this every year. You must sleep in about five layers of clothing in your drafty castles.”

“Absolutely. Though if need be, I can get by without any at all,” Sylvain said, to which you predictably blushed, before he grinned. “Here, this should help.”

Grabbing the bottom of his cloak, he swung it around so it was covering you, and the furry lining brushed over your skin, soft and gentle and such a startling contrast to the bitingly cold air. You instinctively pulled it tighter around yourself, snuggling back into Sylvain’s chest (which sounded nice in theory, but thanks to his breastplate it wasn’t quite as comfortable as you would have liked). You didn’t have to look at him to know that he was smirking, you could easily picture the expression in your head, the smug curve of his lip on his handsome face.

“Do you know how much longer we have to go?” you asked instead, the fur of Sylvain’s cloak tickling your chin as you spoke.

“Mm…probably another forty-five minutes, if the horses can keep up this pace,” Sylvain said. “Man, it’s been a while since I’ve even seen Fhirdiad. I get the feeling it’s going to need a lot of repairs.”

“So did Garrag Mach when we first returned,” you pointed out. “But it’s like you said, we do what we can and keep looking forward.”

“Did I say that? I just meant I don’t want to think about what happens if we lose,” Sylvain said, but he didn’t sound like he was arguing with you, more like he was reluctant to take credit for the words. “But you’re right. All we can do is keep moving. Metaphorically and, you know, literally.”

You couldn’t stop the snort that escaped you. Sylvain had a way of stating even dire situations with a brand of gallows humour you appreciated, if only because he was one of the few people you knew who could get away with it. You could dimly make something out in the snow, some grey thing looming in the distance, but it was difficult to make out and could easily just be the jutting edge of a cliff.

You didn’t mean for it to happen, but soon your eyes started to slide shut, the rhythmic sway of the horse and the warm cloak draped over you helping to lull you into a more relaxed state than you strictly should have been. But evidently Sylvain couldn’t bring himself to wake you, because the next moment you knew, the horse had stopped.

Blearily you looked around, only to see the basecamp around you. Tomorrow you’d be at the gates of Fhirdiad itself. Now all you could do was rest up for tomorrow.

“Thanks for this,” you said as you slid off the horse, immediately wincing as icy air ghosted over your skin, which had been pleasantly warm only moments ago. You feel like you just got out of a nice, warm bed. You passed the salve into Sylvain’s gloved palm. “I probably don’t need to have it checked out now.”

“Yeah, that medical bay is going to be busy tomorrow,” Sylvain agreed, getting down smoothly from his mount, and some stablehands came to take it away, swift and smooth as shadows. Sylvain gave the horse a fond pat, then turned back to you.

“You hungry? The food at camp’s never great, but it’s always nicer to eat with company.”

You smiled before you could stop yourself. He really was far too charming for his own good.

“Sure, why not? I need to talk about some last-minute strategy with Annette and the other mages before tomorrow, but I’ll probably be a bit more coherent if I eat first.”

Sylvain grinned and was about to enter the food tent, pleasant scents wafting from it, when you impulsively tapped him on the shoulder, heard hammering in your chest. When Sylvain glanced over his shoulder, an inquisitive expression on his face, you stood up on tiptoe and pressed your chilled lips to his, which are pleasingly soft to the touch. His hand instinctively found your waist, steadying you as well as pulling you in closer.

You’re the first to break the kiss, looking away with a stupid little smile tugging at your mouth. But Sylvain is smiling as well, and this one does reach his eyes.

“What was that for?” he asked. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

“A thanks,” you said. “For letting me ride with you. And for the cloak.”

“Hey, saving fair maidens from peril is what we Faerghus knights are meant to do,” Sylvain replied in an affected, pompous tone that made you giggle – he sounded like Lorenz. “But just say the word if you’re still cold later. I can think of a few ways to keep you warm.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself grinning, giving his shoulder a playful shove as you both headed inside.

“Oh, I just bet you can.”

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