#fourth gif. we love the hands along the neck.

[nervous-tic]

SPENCER + hands

IN THE BLOOD _ 09.06 THE INSTINCTS _ 04.06

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #criminal minds #*finger guns* hi!!!!! #ok. so i completely forgot i was gonna do a ~spencer's hands~ gif series lmao #sooooooooooo guess what i found in the drafts on my main <3333 #i do not have the energy to recolour these tho </3 #that second gif 🥴 it's doing a LOT for me #fourth gif. we love the hands along the neck. #also i had to slow down the first gif sooo much. fancy finger work. k i'm done that's all i'll say. #wait no!!! one last thing. #FUCK whoever lit the montage sequence #nervous-tic.exe

[cinebration]

What I Mean (Sherlock Holmes x Reader) [Request]

Hi lovely! Love love LOVE your work! You’ve got some truly amazing stories 💝 would I be able to request a Henry!Sherlock Holmes x reader one shot where the reader has feelings for Sherlock but thinks that he doesn’t like her at all? — Requested by anon

Warnings: none

Gif Source: acecroft

The first time you saw Sherlock, you fell in love. It wasn’t because of how he looked or how he carried himself. It was how he brushed past that insufferable Constable Lowell, ignoring the man’s protests with a wave of his hand. The way Lowell became flustered and upset and the way DI Lestrade laughed at him made your heart swell in your chest. After the last five months of verbal bullying from the constable, you were supremely satisfied to see him humiliated.

Sherlock frequently appeared unexpectedly at Scotland Yard. You learned to recognize his presence in the building before you ever saw him. There was something about the way he moved through the place, like it was of little consequence, that you could feel. It reminded you of being caught out in a storm with lightning striking nearby, the hair on your arms rising as static built up in the air.

You didn’t meet Sherlock until your fourth month of employment. What had started as a typing job had turned into secretarial work—with no increase in pay to account for your extra duties. You strode into Lestrade’s office with a thin smile and said, “If I’m going to be mitigating your literacy blunders, I expect to be compensated.”

“That’s out of the question. You are a typist and are paid accordingly.”

“Well, then, in that case…” You dumped a huge stack of folders in front of him. “I don’t need to inventory these.”

Lestrade stared at the stack in displeasure.

“Oh, and they haven’t been properly sorted. I’m only meant to type, not to organize your chaos.”

“Now wait.”

“I expect a ten-percent increase. That’s what a proper secretary gets paid. Oh, and the title. I want everyone to know I am not a mere typist.”

The muscle in his jaw jumping, Lestrade reluctantly agreed. Sweeping the files up in your arms, you strode out of the room, light on your heels.

Sherlock leaned beside the door, a faint smirk playing on his lips. You stumbled, surprised by his appearance.

“I thought I was the only one who could so easily maneuver Lestrade,” he said.

“He makes it too easy,” you managed to say.

Sherlock’s eyes skimmed the files. “They’re already organized, I see.”

“The trick is making him think only I can do this job.”

“Clever.” Then he was in Lestrade’s office discussing a case, leaving you standing there flushed.

~~

Sherlock took to greeting you cordially each time he passed by your desk after the incident with Lestrade. Sometimes he didn’t meet with Lestrade at all, instead opting to leave you with a message for the detective inspector. Sherlock never spent long at your desk, much to your disappointment, but the few minutes he spared you each time were enough to make you float the rest of the day.

You had taken it upon yourself to have all the necessary information on all of Lestrade’s cases close at hand. Sherlock often appeared to ask Lestrade for information regarding something he had read in the paper or heard from others. The first time you furnished him with a small envelope of the relevant information, you had been pleased to see genuine surprise in the consulting detective’s face.

“You are quite indispensable,” he remarked. “I don’t know how Lestrade managed anything before you.”

“Poorly, I would imagine.”

“I heard that!”

Smothering a laugh with your hand, you settled back at your desk and tried to think of something else to say to make Sherlock linger for a few moments. Before you could, he dipped his head and left.

You didn’t know why you kept entertaining the idea of interacting properly with Sherlock. The society rumor mill claimed the man was impossible to nail down and seemed uninterested in any of the ladies. It was supposed he, being an eccentric, was possibly too obsessed with his sleuthing hobby and therefore poor marriage material anyway.

Still, you flirted with the idea until you saw him interact with his sister, Enola. He smiled at her and praised her for a particularly thorny case she had unraveled.

Oh, you thought with dismay, feeling all hope leave you. He treats me like his sister.

The realization settled deep in your bones. It had been fruitless all along, the special treatment you had accorded him, the way he seemed pleased with you.

Of course he was pleased with you, you snarled inwardly. You helped him with his work. Even he suffers Lestrade in order to do that. You are nothing but a convenient secretary he doesn’t need to pay.

You couldn’t bear the thought of making things difficult for him, however, so you continued to keep the case information neatly organized and accessible. While everything in you had changed, the only outward sign of it was a sudden coolness toward him. You no longer smiled easily when he arrived, and you spent most of your time avoiding his gaze, busying yourself with tasks at your desk.

If he noticed, he gave no sign. It was as you had thought. You were of little consequence to him.

~~

A year after being hired, you considered quitting. There was a small detective agency in need of female detectives to uncover unfaithful wives and husbands for divorce proceedings. It would get you away from the stifling atmosphere of Scotland Yard, where the likes of Lowell and his ilk still roamed unchecked. You could do with a change.

You could do with an escape from a certain debonair consultant.

“You can’t leave,” Lestrade declared. “I won’t allow it.”

“Did I sign a contract, sir?”

“No, but why would that—”

“Then I am under no obligation to continue working for you.”

Lestrade sputtered, trying to refute you. “You’re needed here.”

“I know a woman who is as adept as I am at this work.”

“But—”

“I’ve made my decision, detective. Please leave me to it.”

You remained only to show your replacement the way of things and to warn her about Lowell and the others. Only then did you leave and seek a posting in the detective agency.

A day after you had applied and been accepted, you arrived to work in your work clothes, fully expecting to be sent somewhere to survey a cheating spouse. As you walked through the door, you heard exclamations from within.

“Mr. Holmes! What an honor it is to have you grace our establishment.”

You froze in the doorway, heart hammering in your chest. Sherlock’s broad back was turned to you, his face in three-quarter profile. You wanted to flee, to escape the magnetic pull you felt in your presence.

Your new employer saw you past Sherlock’s shoulder. “Ah, here she is.” Waving you over, he watched you walk stiffly down the hallway, your hands clenched into nervous fists by your sides.

Sherlock turned to you, fixing you with those striking blue eyes. You felt trapped beneath them, sucked in their magnetism once more. Swallowing thickly, you nodded. “Mr. Holmes.”

He smiled tentatively at you, revealing the point of a canine.

“Mr. Holmes has requested you for an investigation,” you employer said. “I offered him Miss Hemmings, of course, she being our finest, but he insisted on you.”

The hair on the back of your neck rose. Resisting the urge to scratch, you asked, “Did he?”

“I did. Now, if we could go? We are wasting time.”

Fighting the disappointment rising in you, you followed Sherlock out the door and into a transom. Enclosed in the small space, you couldn’t avoid his scent, a pleasing mix of tobacco smoke and something else. You avoided his gaze, folding and refolding your hands in your lap.

“You left Scotland Yard.”

A statement. You nodded but didn’t offer anything more. “Where are we going?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

You frowned, lifted your head. “I beg your pardon?”

“Did I do something incorrect?” A crease appeared between the man’s eyebrows. “Your demeanor toward me changed in the two months leading up to your resignation.”

Toying with the fingers of your gloves, you felt panic clawing up your throat. He had noticed. What did that mean?

“I can only conclude that something occurred, but I can’t determine what.”

You met his concerned eyes. “I…it doesn’t matter, Mr. Holmes. I can do whatever job you need me to with as much professional courtesy as it requires.”

His lips pulled into a thin frown. “That isn’t what I’m asking.”

“I don’t know what you mean, then.”

“Please, you are smarter than that. Or was my regard for you misplaced?”

You blinked in surprise, unsure you had heard correctly. “It…isn’t my place to tell you where to place your regard.”

He laughed then, a sudden HA that made you jump. “You are making this difficult, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I am not given over to emotionalism, but I won’t deny that your treatment of me in those last months affected me.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“What I mean to say is that I had hoped we were developing a familiarity.” His hand went to his collar, adjusting it. “I had hoped to…call on you.”

Your head snapped up in surprise. “To call on me?”

“I had thought my feeling for you was returned, but if I am mistaken, please inform me now to save us both further embarrassment.”

You could hardly speak around the tightness in your throat. “It is returned.”

The smile on Sherlock’s face made your heart ache. “Good. I’m glad we have remedied that. Now, if we’re both to be detectives, then I suppose we had best collaborate. I need you to spy on Richard Haskell. It seems…”

#Sherlock Holmes x Reader #Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock Holmes imagine #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill imagine #Henry!Holmes #Henry!Sherlock #Enola Holmes #requests

[darkorderaf]

Could I possibly get almost saying i love you before stopping themselves from the unresolved feelings list with Matt Jackson?

Ooooo yes. Here’s some angsty, unresolved tension with Matt. I wrote this one a little differently; hope you like it!

Pairing: Matt Jackson x OFC. Prompts: Almost saying I love you before stopping themselves. Rating: T. Warnings/Content: A little angst/fluff. Word Count: 1463.

Tag List (asked to be added/removed!): @alyhull @boutmachines @chrisdickinson @lghockey @rubyred1980 @simoneinside @sillynilly27

(I don’t own gif; all credit to kennyanimega!)

It crept up on him like a slow fever. The way he looked at her, the intrusive question of what if heavy on his mind. The way his chest felt a little tighter, as if he were nervous. And he didn’t get nervous. Nervous wasn’t in Matt Jackson’s vocabulary. The image of confidence, no stranger at all to beautiful women. Being in their company for a night, maybe even a morning if he felt like it.

He knew it was different with her, with his friend that put up with him when he got a little mean. A little petty, even. Sat with him after long days, braided his hair before he and Nick punked out some up-and-comer tag team, and who he walked with when the weather got a little cool at night. She’d tease her icy fingertips along his neck, just under where his hair fell, and he’d complain, make grand statements of how he didn’t know how he put up with her all while she just laughed.

Then she would skip away and he would stay a step or two behind her. Not knowing what it would be like to not put up with her. Not wanting to either. It careened straight into his chest and he smiled through the sudden loss of breath when she came back to him, took his hand and rolled her eyes playfully.

Bratty, she had called him one time, the word a tease between her lips that he couldn’t stop thinking about. It banged against his skull and he stopped keeping the company of those beautiful women, his head too full and achy with thoughts of his best friend with the chilly hands and the smile that squeezed his heart. They were best friends. They loved each other, through thick and thin. Through good days and bad nights. It was what best friends did. They loved each other.

What if what if what if.

“Dude, you good?”

Nick’s voice snapped Matt back into the room and he lifted his brows, smoothed his hair back from his face. Tried to trace back where in the conversation he had latched onto the idea of her and ran with it. Damn near frollicked with it.

Shit.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he answered. “Great. Stellar. Just, uh, what–what were we talking about?”

His brother’s face shifted into a look he didn’t like and he swallowed back a groan. Nick smirked, shifted in his seat and sat back with his arms folded. He looked a little too amused for Matt’s liking and the older brother scowled.

“What’s that look for?”

“Oh you know what this look is for,” Nick chuckled. “I have this look because you’ve got that look again. That’s like, gosh, the third or fourth time today? It might be a record. Brandon, is that a record?”

“Record’s still sitting at six.”

Nick whistled.

“Getting close there, Matt.”

Matt’s hands went to his hips.

“Are–Are you two done? You’re so childish,” he said with an admonishing shake of his head and a wave of his hand. “Children, that’s what you two are. What, do you think–You thought I was thinking about her again? Well, I wasn’t.” I was thinking about how I was going to celebrate tonight after we kick the Varsity Blondes butts tonight. Alright? That’s what I was thinking about.”

“Uh-huh,” Nick said. “So, what you’re telling me, is that you’re getting heart eyes and smiling like a dork to yourself over the…Varsity Blondes?”

Nick fixed him with an incredulous look and Matt scoffed, looked away as his fingers curled tighter around his hips.

“You got it bad, dude,” Nick said, his tone a touch more serious and more concerned with how distracted his older brother was. “Are you going to say anything? I know it’s not my place or whatever but…I see the way you look at her and you haven’t crept into the room like a goblin at the crack of dawn in weeks. Trust me, I’ve noticed and slept great.”

Matt sat down at the table and sighed, ran a hand through his hair. Brandon watched them from the couch but kept to himself.

“No. I don’t know,” Matt admitted. “It’s…complicated, alright? I like her and she means so damn much to me but I don’t want to just mess that up over something that I probably just need to get over. Just a passing thing, alright? Totally normal and totally something that’ll pass.”

“You really think it’s just a passing thing?”

Nick’s disbelieving tone, the way he looked at his brother, made Matt cringe inwardly. Pinch his brows together.

“...No,” he finally said. Another heavy sigh. “But it’ll have to be.”

Nick gave him a long look and shrugged.

“If you say so,” he said as he got up and stretched. “That’s not the only thing I’ve noticed though.”

“Oh yeah?” Matt scoffed. “What do your all-seeing, wise eyes notice you frickin’ owl?”

“How she looks at you, idiot,” Nick said bluntly. Matt didn’t have a comeback and Nick blinked at him as Brandon shifted awkwardly on the couch. “We got a B string football team to beat, let’s get ready.”

—

Her presence ringside both distracted and focused him. Nick wanted to be helpful, supportive, but Matt’s thoughts rattled against each other. Ran back through their conversation over and over again. She cheered him on and smiled at him through the boos of the crowd. Made her way over to Julia and simply stood on the same side of the ring as her, not doing much of anything, but it was enough to start a confrontation with the younger woman.

In a matter of seconds, all hell broke loose. Brian dropped down to get between her and Julia, all while Julia insisted she could handle herself, and Matt eagle-eyed an opportunity from the apron. She looked past Brian and winked at Matt. He thanked God that he was already flushed from the match as he caught the younger man with a hurricanrana that sent them both into the barricade.

“Matt?”

Her voice reached his ears through the roar of the crowd and he opened his eyes to look up at her. She knelt down, brushed his loose hair back from his face and his breath stopped up in his throat. Her hand found his and she started to pull him up. Even though Nick and Griff were having a battle in the ring, even though Brian was starting to stir from the landing, he couldn’t look away from her. In front of him, it was her and her alone.

Nick was right. God, Nick was so right, and he looked at her with all the softness and admiration of a man long enamored with the sight of her. The feeling she coaxed in him. And her the corners of her mouth softened and her thumb circled around his rough palm.

“I–” He started, startled with how shy he, Matt Jackson, suddenly felt with her eyes on him. How many times had she looked at him before? From across the ring, beside each other at dinner or on the couch in their comfiest pajamas. Across from hotel pools and shared suites, moonlight and something else between them that went unspoken. Like so many things. Like too much. “I lo–”

I love you I love you I love you. God, Nick is right and I love you so freakin’ much I don’t know what to do with it all and why now, why now, why here—

Her lips started to form around a sentence and he couldn’t take his eyes away from them, then Nick’s loud voice startled him out of it and the moment was broken as he dropped her hand and dove back into the ring in time to break up the pin. She watched him go, an easy smile on her face that sharpened to a smirk as she gathered her senses.

“I couldn’t do it without you,” Matt called out to her, cocky and proud as he tagged in. Pointed at Griff. “You’re done!”

Nick loosely took the tag rope in hand and she circled back to their side of the ring. The younger Jackson’s eyes slid down to her and she caught his quiet, knowing look. She smiled, shrugged, and watched as Matt did what he did best.

Matt stole a glance at her as he and Griff circled each other.

For another day, he thought.

She didn’t know what he was going to say but she knew what she wanted to say, what the moment wanted her to yell to the sky as loud as she could. Instead, it sat quietly in the back of her throat and she smiled at him.

For another day, she thought.

#matt jackson fic #matt jackson fanfiction #matt jackson imagine #aew imagine #aew fanfiction #aew fic #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry VI

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; abuse of power, chase, unwanted touching, confusing Bucky is confusing, blow job.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You’re journey continues on but not so smoothly.

Note: Getting this out for Monday and back to the grind of the new job so updates might not be as steady but I’ll at least get some more gif requests done.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

The caravan continued until the sun began to descend. Tents were erected for the lords and the retinue of lower nobility and guards. As the servants slept under and in the wagon, or out in the open, you were taken to the painted blue canvas where Lord Barnes' bed had been set up. 

He spent much of the day in the carriage with you but for the last hour took to horseback. He welcomed you with kiss on your forehead, his arm already disposed of on the stout stool beside the bed. His sleeves hung loosely but he barely seemed to worry for it as he urged you to the mattress.

He only stripped his coat and tunic, his boots kicked off beside the frame. He helped disassemble your gown, the pieces slung over the single chest unloaded into the tent. You remained in only your shift as he pulled you down beside him after he extinguished the lantern. 

He laid on his side, watching you as his hand rested on your stomach. You were exhausted but knew you wouldn't sleep. Still, you closed your eyes and tried to let weight settle over your eyelids.

"Sweeting," Barnes cooed, "did you enjoy our activity today?"

You stiffened and slowly opened your eyes. You looked at him cautiously and dipped your chin, "yes, my lord." You still weren't certain how you felt about what occurred but to let on that confusion to him would do you no favours.

“Mmm,” he nestled closer, bringing his body flush to your side as he took your hand and played with your fingers. You exhaled and urged the strength entirely from your body, “and I did wonder… you did say you were untouched… was your meaning that you’d never been touched in any manner? Even as lightly as how I did this day?”

You bit the inside of your lip and mustered your voice. “Never. Never anything, my lord,” you confessed.

He hummed and brought the back of your hand to his lips. He kissed your flesh cloyingly, leaving a trail up your arm to the edge of your shift. His hand dropped yours and swept up your stomach. He cupped your chest and rested his head just over the swell of your breasts. 

His hair smelled of horse and sweat. You let him lay against you and stared at the canvas of the tent through the stifling dark. He brought the blankets higher and held you in his warmth. He nuzzled your breasts but his hand did not descend further.

“It will be some days yet,” he said grimly, “I hate travel, it is so tiring,” he yawned, “but when we are at the castle, we may rest…” his fingers curled into your side as his breath slipped under the top of your shift, “we will have time to know each other better.”

You closed your eyes and a hot tear trickled down your temple and along your scalp. You fought not to heave as you wanted desperately to sob. You just laid there, still but restless, and listened to his breaths. When at last he began to snore, you began to weep.

🏰

The second day rolled by on the carriage wheels and into the dust of the road. The third morning came with a layer of frost and the sun stayed hidden behind pale clouds. You climbed again into the royal vehicle and Barnes joined you again. He did not ride at all on his own as he slumbered on the bench with head in your lap and woke to shove his hand up your skirts.

Again, he stoked the flame inside of you with his touch. You hated how you whined, how your thighs clamped around his hand hungrily, and how the ripples flowed over to powerful tides. On the fourth day, he was joined by another as it began to rain and Lord Rogers sat across from you as Barnes flanked you.

You pulled back the curtain to peer out at the muddy road and listened to the call of the wet riders and the servants who worked to dislodge the carts whenever they were halted by the muck. You knew Rogers was watching you, you felt the tingle of his gaze, and Barnes too. The two men had you caged in and their silence troubled you.

“I see you have a new dress,” Rogers began, “it looks fine on you… lady.”

You looked to him and then to Barnes. “Thank you, my lord,” you clasped your hands and kept your shoulder straight as you stared at the empty space beside Rogers.

“You must have selected the attire,” Rogers spoke to Barnes, “she might look lovely in rose.”

“Mmm, you would know fashion better than me,” Barnes grumbled, “so long as the fabric is untorn and cut well, I am unbothered.”

“Oh, but you see the neckline does frame her face well, it brings out the shape of it,” Rogers tilted his head as he looked you over, “and the hood, she would do well with something shorter to lengthen the neck but it the pearls are well placed.”

“Had I known you were so interested in women’s attire I might have consulted with you before sending to my tailor,” Barnes sighed and fidgeted with the ring on his finger.

“Only in that it makes me wonder at what’s beneath,” Rogers slithered, “I always thought the intrigue of ladies was to peel away the wrapping of their gifts.”

“Do not be crass,” Barnes rebuffed as he gripped his forehead, “the storm does already cloud my head.”

Rogers crossed his arms and huffed. He pushed his legs apart and glared at Barnes. “How much longer am I to wait?”

Barnes dropped his hand and sat up. He glanced at you and back to Rogers. His jaw clenched as he considered his friend and shrugged.

“Oh come on, you would not feel so rotten with a distraction,” Rogers urged, “and I would not be so bored. It is easier astride to bear the road--”

“Quiet,” Barnes snapped and his throat constricted, “you don’t give me time to think.”

Rogers brows rose hopefully as he watched his friend. Barnes ran his hand up and down his thigh then reached to you. He pulled on your arm until you were against him. He whispered in your ear, “recall as you did with your hand,” he said, “you might use your mouth in its stead.”

You pulled back and squinted at him dumbly. He did not flinch as he pointed to the other lord then nudged your elbow. He sighed and sat back heavily.

“Let us have it over with and you will not mention it again,” Barnes flicked his fingers in a final order to you.

You felt as if you were covered in a sheet of ice and yet mortification seared your lungs like smoke. Your eyes threatened to water but you lowered your lashes and slipped away from Barnes before your anger and disgust had you striking him. What he demanded of you was revolting and entirely demeaning. You had little esteem left for the lord but did not expect it to sink lower.

You edge off the bench and stood crookedly in the carriaged. You went to Rogers as he watched you and tried to figure how best to approach him. Your heart clenched at the thought, how easily you did bend to Barnes’ will. Your hands shook and you turned suddenly and grasped at the carriage door.

You were dragged back as an arm looped around your middle and swung you against the bench. Barnes stood over you, hunched beneath the roof of the carriage as he puffed angrily through his nose.

“Are you mad?” he snarled.

You splayed over the bench and panted as he glared down at you. He seized you again and forced you up. He turned you and thrust you towards Rogers as he bent to rasp in your ear. The other lord watched with a smirk as he picked at the laces of his breeches and pushed them open. You closed your eyes as he reached into his undershorts and lifted his pelvis to slip down his bottoms.

“Why must you make this all so difficult?” Barnes sneered and pushed you onto the bench. He grabbed the back of your neck and bent you over Rogers lap, “open your mouth, sweetling.”

You obeyed almost as once as his tone sent shivers through you and his grip made your spine ache. You felt the tip of Rogers member as it filled the ring of your lips and Barnes shoved you down its length harshly. Rogers poked at your throat as Barnes moved to kneel and watched how you struggled to take it all.

You gagged and grasped Rogers' thigh as your whole body tensed. You were pulled back and pushed down again, your spit spreading down his cock as Barnes guided your motion. Soon both men made lurid noises; Rogers groaning in pleasure and Barnes encouraging you to take more.

“Sweeting, you must learn,” Barnes coaxed, “when you do not listen, you must atone.”

“Fuck,” Rogers gasped as his hand circled his base just below your lips and he stroked in time with your motion, “she’s good.”

Rogers stretched his hand over your back as he leaned back against the seat, rocking his hips just a little as he slid past further down your throat. The two men kept you moving as the sloppy noise of your humiliation melded with their voices.

“My word, I’m almost there,” Rogers fingers curled against the back of your dress, “oh, pet…”

A sudden heat flooded your throat and slicked his member as he slowed and twitched. The salty deluge made you choked as Barnes pulled you back and you dropped to your knees as you covered your mouth in disgust.

“Ah, don’t make a mess,” Barnes let you go entirely, “swallow it, sweeting.”

You shuddered as you forced yourself to gulps down the revolting slickness and you heaved as you stayed on the floor of the carriage. You were wrenched off your hands and dragged on your knees to the other bench. Barnes glared at you as he unlaced his breeches impatiently.

“You were wise to suggest the distraction,” Barnes jibed at Rogers as he pulled out his member, “it might help the needle in my head.”

“She is good,” Rogers sighed, “she serves well.”

“You might recall she serves me,” Barnes brought your to his tip and rammed past your lips, “do not amuse yourself with any other ideas.”

“I can admire her even so,” Rogers rose and the carriage creaked as he moved closer. He came up behind you and ran his hands down your sides, “would it not be something if I lifted her ass right now and--”

“Ahh, Steve, enough,” Barnes kept your head bobbing with his hand on your hood, “I have yet to have that pleasure myself.”

“You toy with her,” Rogers squeezed your hips as he bent and nuzzled your hood, “you should fuck her now. I feel how she quivers. You would torture both her and yourself.”

“We are not… far… from the… capital,” Barnes panted as used you, “I would wait and have her on still ground.”

“Mmm, she does need breaking,” Rogers backed away and fell heavy on the other bench, “like any good mare.”

“Mmm, yes,” Barnes moaned, “sweeting, oh, so…”

He trailed off and the carriage went silent but for the noise of your mouth and the lord’s lewd utterances. You kept on if only to have it done with, humiliated and hurt. If only you had been quick enough to toss yourself from the carriage; a horse’s hooves would be much preferable to that torture.

“You remember to swallow… sweeti--” he spasmed and again a hot river flowed through you. You gagged but gulped down his cum as he slid from your mouth. His cock glistened as he cradled his sack and groaned, “good,” he lifted his hand and ran his thumb over your wet lips, “such a sweet little pet.”

You drew away and hung your head as you held in a cough. You wiped your mouth with your sleeve but stayed on the floor. You were too frightened to move, frightened that it would inspire another violation. Barnes reached down and pulled you up and angled you onto the seat next to him, his member hidden but his breeches still open.

He fixed your mussed hood and marveled at your puffy lips. He pulled you against him, his gentleness off putting as he caressed your sleeve and let you rock against him with the motion of the carriage. You peeked over at Rogers as you felt him watching and he licked his lips crudely.

“Hmmm, yes, she will be the perfect little prize for the tournament,” Rogers remarked.

“You will have to win your own,” Barnes countered, “our debt is settled, you will not approach her again.”

Rogers rolled his eyes and shrugged, “as you wish,” he said dryly.

“Don’t be a child,” Barnes scoffed, “the capital is ripe with maids eager to serve a duke and you’ve never been so finicky about them.”

“Perhaps but I think you’ve helped me refine my tastes,” Rogers met your shy gaze and bit his lip, “such a sweet little thing.”

“Let us keep the sparring to the tourney,” Barnes warned, “friend.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #series #hue and cry #medieval au #medieval!au #au #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #winter soldier

[accio-moony]

Precedented Reputation || Remus Lupin x Reader SMUT

Request: Yes: {anon} What about a Remus smut where the reader is in a skirt and maybe has a hair pulling kink?

AN: They’re both 17 (legal age for wizards) Not Proof-read

Word Count: 3.7~k

Characters/Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader, James Potter, Sirius Black, Lily Evans

Summary: [marauders era] You’ve been riled up all day, and take your opportunity while under the influence of firewhisky at a Gryffindor party.

WARNINGS: Underage drinking, public make out, unprotected sex, hair pulling, spanking, edging, slight cock warming, creampie

*not my gifs*

The loud chatter that fills the Gryffindor common room feels like it shakes your soul when combined with the thump of the music. It makes your head kind of fuzzy, but the Firewhisky in your hand can’t be helping with that either. Of course, like most Saturdays after a quidditch match, the Gryffindors would celebrate, whether they won, or even played, or not. Another excuse for the house to exude its rowdiness. Today is no exception, especially since they had won by more a good fifty points. Students are running around in every direction; every corner is filled with a group of friends or a couple. It is well past after hours for the castle, and this tower remains lit with excitement. If you pay enough attention, you would notice that there are a select few students who aren’t even a part of the Gryffindor house. Some students just can’t turn down the opportunity to get bashed by Firewhisky. 

On the coffee table of the center group of couches stands Sirius Black, your boyfriend’s best friend. As Sirius rambles off some nonsense no one understands and dances around on the table, you lean your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder, taking in the scene. Admittedly, if it weren’t for the extra dose of courage your drink provides you, you wouldn’t be down here. Likely you would be off reading a book or studying. You don’t even usually drink, but your friends had coaxed you into it this time. It being your last year at Hogwarts, you don’t want to be the one to say they never attended any parties.

That aforementioned extra lot of courage has you excited in more ways than one, but you aren’t the type to just hop on your boyfriend in the middle of a crowded space, unlike many of the students filling the common room. Said excitement has also been in your gut all day, for what reason you don’t know, but the alcohol on your tongue was just gasoline to the fire. You’ve stayed by Remus’ side since supper was over and the lot of you left the Great Hall. You’ve kept your arms around him, occasionally squeezing his sides in hopes that he’ll get the intended nonverbal message. Though, as most days, he was unaware of your actions, simply playing it off as your regular affection. 

You’ve been pushing your urges to the side all day, but they kept coming back. After dinner, just before the party had started, you disappeared upstairs to your dormitories with your room mates to get ready. The idea stroke you then that you should wear Remus’ favorite outfit of yours, and maybe then he’ll give you a reaction. Even with the denim skirt, the reaction he gave you when he saw you was insufficient. He merely bit his lip and wrapped his arm around you, holding you close and claiming you as his. 

By now, Sirius has tripped off the coffee table and spilled his drink all down his and some poor girl’s shirt. Jading to you and many others, he has managed to play it off to is advantage as he snogs her on a near-by couch. As Remus talks to Peter about something unimportant, his arm still protectively wrapped around you, you look for the fourth marauder. You find him, sitting in a far corner practically swallowing his girlfriend, whom he had pined for since first year. Lily had rejected him so many times, and you’re still baffled by what changed her mind. 

You think to yourself, if James can get his dream girl after six years of rejection, you can figure out how to get your boyfriend to take you to bed. It’s never been a problem for Sirius, and even though he has many characteristics you don’t, how hard could it be for just one person — the one person you’ve let have you before and that you’ve loved since you first spoke to him. 

Even as the room is stocked with sweaty teenagers, Remus manages to still wear his usual many layers. It’s no surprise, given the tokens his ill-favored condition has left him to bare for all the years to come. You’ve never shunned him for his lycanthropy, loving him and all the baggage that comes with, as he does you. 

As shrewdly as possible, you untuck Remus’ button down and sweater from his trousers. Being so preoccupied in his conversation with Peter, Remus doesn’t seem to notice, giving you the advantage. You hand you cup to some random student passing by you without a word, without even a glance, and you slide your cold hand under his button down, resting it on his flushed abs, all while turning in his arms so you’re comfortably facing him. The stark contrast in the temperature of your skin to his quickly seizes his attention as he tenses under your touch, his head whipping around as he looks down at you. The moment his eyes meet yours, he knows. He can see the need that he’s missed all day, but he decides to see how far you’ll go in such a public setting, the Firewhisky also having given him an extra ounce of courage. He lets out a breathy laugh as he relaxes under your touch, and he bends down slightly, only kissing the top of your head before turning back to talk to Peter, to your displeasure.

You huff, and before you can make a decision on how to proceed, or even if you should, you body speaks for itself as you move to stand between the two men, pushing Peter back as you face Remus. But you don’t just stand there expectingly. Your hands grab the sides of his face as you push up on your toes to get yourself closer to his height and pull his lips down onto yours in a feverish kiss. Though Remus was still playing snitch, not giving into the kiss as much as you wanted him to. You groan as your lips move across his jaw and up his neck to rest just under his ear, pulling him down by the neckline of his sweater with one hand, the other placed on his shoulder. Instinctively, his arm wraps around the small of your back, holding you close as he’s bent over to match your height. The hand one his sweater releases and slyly slides down his chest. 

“Stop being an arsehole on purpose, Remus,” you breath, your breath hot as it fans over his ear. You let your hand finally reach its desired destination, gripping him over his trousers and finding him to be just as aroused as yourself. “Or neither of us will get what we want.” Your hand slides over his length, squeezing ever-so slightly. 

Remus finally gives in to his act, his need to feel your lips overriding his intoxicated fantasy. His posture marginally straightens as he grabs your face with both of his hands, crashing his lips down onto yours in a hungry kiss, still full of passion. His left hand slide back from your cheek and his fingers lace into your hair. As his plan of action succeeds and he pulls your hair slightly, you gasp against his lips, and he’s able to force his tongue into your mouth to explore the familiar expanse. You moan when you feel his tongue press over your own, his other hand leaving your face and wrapping his right arm around your lower back, pulling you closer to him. His erection presses against your hip, and you can feel him throbbing behind the denim restraints. Remus feels your cold hands run up his sides from under his shirt, and he knows that if he doesn’t move you now, he may end up having to take you on the nearest open piece of furniture. His cock twitches slightly at the thought of everyone watching you, but he knows that no one gets to see you in your most vulnerable moments accept for him. He also doesn’t want that reputation to follow either of you through the last several months of school. 

He pulls away from you completely, not even staying by your side but instead walking away from you. You’re left standing in the middle of the common room, eyes wide and mouth ajar as you try to process the fact of how suddenly your boyfriend left you in such an intimate moment. After the moments or two it takes to regather your composer, you spin around, searching the room to find where he could have gone. Along the perimeter of the room, against the back wall, you see him. Your eyes catch his expecting look as he motions up the stairs next to him, the stairs that lead to the boy’s dormitories. Again locked in your spot to comprehend the situation, you force your feet from their spot seemingly bolted to the rough carpet and quickly maneuver your way through the crowded room to the back wall. 

You don’t stop when you reach him; you just wink at him with your lip between your teeth as you scurry up the spiral staircase. You feel him follow behind you, and once your around the first bend of the stairs, no longer able to be seen from the common room, you feel his hand fall down onto your ass roughly. You squeal and giggle as you bend over from the excitement, ascending the rest of the steps on all fours. 

Behind you, Remus throbs painfully in his trousers when he sees your panties peak out from under your short skirt, when he sees the wet mark adorning them. He growls perforce as he wraps his strong arms around you, easily picking you up as you giggle and carrying you the rest of the way to his dorm. Once in his room, he puts you down, not letting go until he’s sure you’ve got your balance, and his foot kicks the door closed behind him. 

“Colloportus,” he mumbles as he pulls his wand from his pocket and lazily points it at the door, locking it before throwing his wand down on his bedside table. 

“Muffliato,” you cast your own spell, still giggling from the excitement as you blindly walk backwards until the back of your knees hit the edge of Remus’ bed. You sit down, breathing heavily as you watch as your boyfriend quickly removes his belt, throwing it on the floor somewhere meaningless to you both in the moment.

Remus kicks his trainers off easily, then hurriedly removes his socks as he stumbles closer to you. You follow his lead and slip your flats off your feet, discarding them behind you with a heavy thunk. Once his socks are on the floor to be forgotten, Remus strides over to where you sit on his bed, graying your face in his right hand as he reconnects your mouths in a passionate kiss. His free hand quickly tugs the hem of your sweater from your skirt so he can slide it underneath, cupping your plump breasts over your bra, squeezing roughly. You moan at the feeling, releasing his mouth as your hands stealthily remove his own sweater, quickly pulling it over his head and getting to work on undoing his button down, his last layer. He stands up straight, something he usually doesn’t do, but seeing your nimble fingers working over the buttons of his shirt as you look up at him will love-blown eyes boosts his confidence. His fingers slide through your soft hair as he watches you finish with the last several buttons, his eyes full of lust. 

When you’ve released the final button on his white chemise, you don’t push it off his shoulders, instead enjoying how it hangs open, his tan chest exposed to you. Unable to resist, you begin kissing over the span of his chest, taking a moment here and there to suck your mark into his chest. As you do so, you gradually stand up, kissing up the length of his torso on the way. Once you’ve stood up straight and left one last purple bruise on his neck, just above where his collar sits, you step back, holding the intimate eye contact as you guide his hands to pull your sweater over your head, revealing your lace-clad tits to your boyfriend. You smirk as his eyes fall from yours and onto your cleavage once it’s revealed. 

He grabs them in his large hands, squeezing roughly as he drives his lips back onto yours, forcing your mouth open again to accept his tongue. He only kisses you for a moment, his member painfully rubbing against the denim of his trousers, begging to be released from the confinement. “I bet you’re ready for me aren’t you?” He smirks against your lips before attaching them again. “You’re so needy and desperate for me to fuck you, huh?”

“Yes, Remus,” you moan at his words. “Please. I’m ready.” 

“Good girl,” he groans as he spins you around, strenuously pushing you down face first onto his bed, you ass towards him. In one swift movement, Remus pushes your skirt up, bunching it at your waist and quickly rips your panties down your legs, leaving your slick heat bare to him. “Fuck,” he mutter as he takes a step back, admiring your swollen lips as he unzips his pants, pushing them down with his boxers just enough to get himself free. “You’re so wet, baby.”

You quickly grow impatient, needing to be touched, to be satisfied, and you slide your hand between your legs, rubbing your fingers through your wet folds and spreading your arousal around your core. All to Remus’ displeasure, as he grabs both of your wrists, easily restricting them behind your back in his right hand alone. His other hand grabs his thick cock at the base, rubbing his head through your folds to soak himself in your arousal, pressing it against your clit, smacking it against you several times. 

He guides himself to your begging hole, pushing just the swollen tip into you before letting go of himself. His now free hand wraps in your hair, pulling it as he thrusts into you, bottoming out in one quick movement. He moans at the feeling of your velvet walls tight around his member, and you cry out from the contentment of being filled so perfectly in an abrupt moment. Your walls clench around him, not wanting him to leave as you feel complete, but your hips have a mind of their own as you push back against him, still needy and impatient. 

Remus’ right hand releases your wrists, letting you have them back to brace yourself against the mattress. Instead his hand comes down over your ass before holding your hips still. Your yelp in surprise of the pleasurable sting quickly slides into a moan.

“You’ve gotta learn to be more patient, love,” Remus’ low voice calls from behind you just as he pulls back, almost out before ramming himself back in again, forcing against that spot inside you. You cry out his name, whining and panting with every harsh thrust he gives you, each thrust accompanied by a blow to your cheeks.

Your ass quickly glows red, leaving Remus satisfied with his visible handprint. His soft hands smooth over your plump flesh, squeezing as he relishes in the feeling of having his hands full of you. His reputation of quiet book-boy is one he’s okay with. You and him alone know this passionate side that comes out in the bedroom. And he knows how you try to bring it out of him outside of privacy, like you had tried only moments ago, successfully he might add. He doesn’t know, or really care for that matter, who saw it. You make him the most comfortable he has ever been.

He pulls your hair harder and you moan at the tension, his cock twitching inside you at the sound. “Up, baby,” he commands, and your shaky arms fight to push yourself up. His right hand leaves its hold on your ass to help you up so that your back is pressed and arching against his firm chest. His hand slides your bra strap off your shoulder, leaving him room to leave his mark on you, then slides down your stomach and between your thighs, rubbing rough circles against your clit.

You moan out, wildly pleasured by the way he knows you so well. Your hand reaches behind you, grabbing the back of his neck and holding him closer to you as the coil tightens within you. You think he’s going to let you fall apart, but he notices the way your walls are tightening and fluttering around him, and he pulls out, leaving just an inch or so in you as his finger leave your mound. 

“Remus,” you whine, feeling empty, and when he takes too long, bring it upon yourself to do the work, pushing yourself pack and forth on his rock-hard cock. Your hands leave his neck, grabbing behind you to hold onto his sides, your finger nails digging into his already scarred flesh. 

You feel that coil reform in your gut, knowing you only need a little more. But Remus seems to know your body better than you do, and he stops you, pulling away from you completely with a dark chuckle. 

“Fuck you,” you pant as he steps away from you.

“Isn’t that what you’re trying to do?” He smirks as he sits himself on his bed, his head leaned back into his pillow. 

You groan and turn to him, easily straddling his hips as he spreads his legs, giving you a wider base. “It’s what I am doing,” you try to taunt him, but you panting and breathlessness, your messy hair, it all makes you seem so desperate for him. And you are, you have been all day. Not wanting to wait any longer, you immediately sink back down on him, his length reaching a whole new level within you and your high pitched moan thrills him. His hands slide behind your back, unclipping your bra and pulling it down your arms. His hands fill with your breasts as you starts lightly sucking on your nipples, your back arching and forcing more of you into his mouth. 

Though soon, as he feels himself getting ever closer, his hands drop your breasts, one sliding back into your hair and the other lay on your lower back to guide you as you rock your hips against him. His hand in your hair pulls back, exposing the column of your throat to him on which he leaves numerous bruises from the force of his mouth on you. 

“Remmy,” you whine, barely able to form coherent words. “I-I’m so cl-close. Please.” 

He takes your warning, falling away from you and back onto his pillow as his hands hold your hips above his over. He starts pounding up into you at a relentless speed and your hand falls to your clit, pushing yourself over that edge. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan loudly as your orgasm washes over you. Your walls create a vice on him, squeezing and gushing your hot fluid over him. Your legs shake violently as you call out his name, collapsing forward onto his chest. 

The force of your orgasm makes Remus cum, bucking his hips up into you, involuntarily jerking them as he stills, buried to the hilt within you as his balls tighten. Thick ropes of his hot sum paint your insides as he holds you against his chest with his arms wrapped around you. “Fuck, princess,” he moans into your ear, his hips moving slightly to work the last of him into you, though quickly fall to the bed as he relaxes in exhaustion. 

He stays inside you for a moment longer, still impossibly hard, then flips you both over before slowly pulling out of you. He groans as his swollen cock leaves the warmth of your cunt, and you quietly whine at the loss, your voice barely returning after having cum so loud.

He grabs his wand and mutters a spell, one you can’t hear over the white noise of the aftershock. You feel him remove your skirt the rest of the way, and then presumably his own pants, pulling his boxers back up and softly tucking his sensitive member back into them. He finds your panties from the floor, then decides that you need fresh ones. He stumbles over to his trunk in exhaustion and pulls out the extra pair of panties you’ve left in his room for such occasions and a plain black t-shirt for you to put on incase his roommate return unexpectedly. 

He helps you into the shirt as he kneels in front of you on his bed, then carefully guides you back onto the pillow. “Are you okay, baby?” He asks, concern flooding his voice. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” you mutter, a lazy smile playing at your lips. “That was… oh, Merlin, I can’t even put it into words. You’ve no idea how badly I needed that, Rem.”

He smiles as he lays with his hips between your thighs, pushing the t-shirt up over your breasts. “I love you, Y/n,” he says softly before his lips wrap around your nipple. You moan softly and arch your back again. 

“What’re you doing that for now, Remmy?” You whine. 

“They didn’t get the attention they deserve,” he explains as if it were the most obvious explanation and you laugh. The laugh quickly subsides into a moan as his teeth graze over your nipple, releasing it with a satisfying pop before moving to leave more hicks over your chest. 

“If you don’t stop that now,” you pant, still breathless from your excursion, but your breath being stolen from you again. “I’ll need to ride you again, Remus.”

He hums against your skin before pushing up onto his arms. “I have no complaints there,” he smiles as he places a soft kiss to your lips.

#hogwarts #the wizarding world #wizarding world #Harry Potter #JK Rowling #JKR #the marauders #the marauders era #Marauders #marauders era #remus lupin #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #moony #Andrew garfield #Andrew Garfield remus lupin

[mcybank]

—   COVETOUS.   ;

( gif by @lunalovecroft )

— COVETOUS   ;   DRACO MALFOY.  

summary: draco malfoy didn't ask you to the yule ball — that didn't mean you didn't have a date to flaunt at the glamorous, wintery event. draco wasn't much too jubilant about that. pairing: draco malfoy/Slytherin!reader word count: 1.5k words author’s note: this was basically in the yule ball setting however as draco was in fourth-year during the yule ball, I changed it to a christmas Ball for when Draco and y/n are in their seventh-year.

     Your silver gown billowed as your fingers intertwined with soft, velvety ones belonging to Terry Boot, a seventh-year Ravenclaw who had took it upon himself to escort you to the Christmas ball. He had been behind you for months while you were inwardly behind Draco Malfoy; who didn’t express a minuscule interest in asking you for the Ball.

“This looks...” he trailed off, chestnut eyes dappled with golden specks raking over the heightened Christmas tree, almost touching the ceiling adorned by several frosted spikes illuminating over the room, along with the pair of smaller ones on each side. “Exquisite?” you finished for him, the corners of your lips quipping up a mere inch into a small smile. 

You could feel his gleaming gaze upon you, drinking you features admirably. “Shall we dance?” You felt his grip on your hand tightening at his suggestion, hopeful of your agreement. You nodded; you were attempting to spot the platinum haired Slytherin in the litany of wizards and witches.

Minutes into the Ball, no sight of Draco Malfoy — though the hand strung around your waist and eyes locked with your own would’ve surpassed to be a splendid distraction, it was no use when your mind was littered with images of the slender fingers trailing down your bare back, your hands tangled within locks that resembled lustrous moonlight played behind your eyes. 

“I must abandon you to get a drink,” Terry jestingly began, the contact of his body against yours leaving in the process of doing so. “Would you fancy one, too?” You shook your head at his offer, not knowing if a fruity delight would be capable enough of diminishing prurient thoughts of a boy who was certainly not your date.

Your neck blanketed with the feeling of warm breath dancing against your skin the instant your date left your sight, punctuated by Malfoy’s rasped voice, “I loathe seeing you with somebody else.”

You drew in a sharp breath as you felt your body grow more weighted and your heart plummet to the pit of your stomach at his presence. “Is the Draco Malfoy jealous?” you questioned, turning around to face him, your amethyst heels sliding against the marbled floor. 

He lowly snickered, “Do you really believe I’d be jealous of another boy holding you when I know I can have you any hour I want,” he paused, his hands snaking around your waist, “any minute I want.” He pulled you closer, your chest coming in contact with his and your cheeks heating up, “any second I want.” He punctuated his words with a momentary kiss, his lips wavering against yours and his hands inching lower, settling themselves right above your bottom. 

You wanted to pull away, demean him and make him wait for not being the one you walked into the Ball with. The feeling of him, body to body, was bewitching, cascading all your tension into a cesspool that lingered at the bottom of your concerns. 

You pulled away from his lips, though the feeling of the loss of contact turned you frigid, you said, “We can’t do this. Not here. T—Terry’s...” He cut you off by pressing a sensual kiss against your neck, aware of your heightening sensitivities above your sternum. 

“I never said we’re doing anything... more here. I’m sure Timothy wouldn’t mind seeing his date flee when he grabs himself a drink,” he spoke, continuing the pecks against your heating skin. “Terry,” you corrected in a gasped breath, unaware of the amount of eyes that might be inspecting your improper encounter. 

“I do not care,” he said, pulling himself away and intertwining your fingers firmly with his as he dragged you towards the exit of the hall. 

The walk, rather sprint back towards his dormitory was wordless. You did receive questioning glances from younger Slytherins upon entering the Common Room — ones you managed to avoid as it had grown into your forte. 

Your hair suffused across the green sheets of Draco’s four-poster bed, body delving into the soft mattress and his above you, hovering as he sucked gratingly onto the skin of your jaw. Exasperated moans abreast heaving gasps escaped your mouth while you attempted your greatest to hold in your sound by taking your bottom lip between your teeth, biting rough enough to draw blood. 

“Let me hear you,” he said, his breath circling above your skin causing your back to arch in desperation. “Let me hear how much you want me, crave me — the feeling of me in you, pushing into you as you moan for me, only me.”

So, you let out a moan, your voice growing an octave than before. “Draco!”

“Who do you moan for?” he inquired further, his lips curving into a smirk detectable as they trailed down your neck, hanging above your your cleavage exposed by your gown. “Y — You.”

“I don’t believe I heard you. Who is it you moan for? The one who provides you with pleasure that no other can compare to?” Your lips straightened in bewilderment as you felt one of his hands scour across your inner thigh below the flowing gown, inching closer and closer to the growing heat between the tip of your legs.

“You, Draco!” Your pitch raised as his fingers slipped under your laced knickers and rubbed tenderly against your awaiting clit. His smirk grew wider and his lithe fingers circled the nub. His growing hardness faintly rubbed against your stomach causing you to selfishly crave the feeling of his fingers replaced by something else in an instant. 

He didn’t seem to care much for his raising. He seemed to find tenfold pleasure in peppering your neck, revealed breasts, and lips with kisses that gradually turned into more lust-ridden and hungry. 

“You’d rather Thomas do this to you?” he asked, the speed of his rubbing grew as he nibbled onto the side of your neck. You shook your head with as much power you could. 

“Want you, Draco — please,” you pleaded, interspersing it with a groan as he lost contact with your skin leaving a lovebite, rather a bite mark. “Want me to do what, sweetheart?” 

You pushed your lower body upwards, aching for further contact as though gesticulating your response for what you wanted, ached, for him to do. “I don’t want that,” he began, referring to your actions, “I want words; I know you’re good with them.”

“Want you in me, Draco!” 

Juxtaposing your expectations for his next actions, he removed his fingers from you and brought them up to your lips. His index, damp from your liquids, pulled your bottom lip before hurriedly placing it above your tongue causing you to taste your wetness. 

“I wonder if Trevor made you this wet. You were with him majority of the ball,” he spoke, pulling himself above you and standing on the floor at the edge of the bed, his ocean eyes raking over your quivering body. 

Your eyebrows knitted. Your hands trembled. “No, Draco. Not Terry... You. It’s all for you.” You stammered on your words, eyes glazing over by the throbbing desperation clinking within you.

He didn’t respond. His hands gripped the satin of your gown by the hem, slowly elevating them to reveal your bare thighs and soaked knickers. His gaze was intimidating, filled with lust, envy, and a tinge of desperation — nothing compared to yours, though.

He was quick in ridding the one piece off fabric covering the most desired part of your lower half. Your gaze fell upon his hard, evident against the fabric of his suit pants. “Draco, hurry up, please.” Your last plea of the sentence was enough for all the intention of making you wait wash away from him. 

He undid the zipper of his trousers, then briefs, giving you the perfect sight of his cock that was fully hardened, or so you assumed. He kneeled between your legs that were spread wide open for him, lining himself up with your dampened entrance. “Never let me see you with somebody else,” he said, instantly pushing himself into you, sending you in a blissful gaze. “And never blame it on me, love.”

He leaned towards your face, his lips finding their way back to your own, nibbling on your bottom lip as he surfaced his tongue towards the opening of your mouth. 

He continued thrusting into you, hitting every spot that threw you off the edge and into a coast of felicity. Your moans, together, entangled. Your name slurred off the tip of his tongue and resembled the most coordinated of choirs and a perfectly tuned guitar, the chords brushing against each other in the most liaising manner.

“I’m about to — ” he cut you off, “So am I, sweetheart. Hold on.”

He pushed into you. Deep. Unearthing the area that nobody’s ever felt before, not even him, within you. Your vision faltered and you felt specks stars circling around your sight as Draco’s neck arched and his head fell back as he let out a deep, croaked moan. Both of you reached the peak of your euphoria as Draco stayed within, halting his actions and basked in the feeling of you enveloping his member. 

“I mean it — if you wish to be with me, merely ask. Don’t go scampering off with some dimwitted Ravenclaw.”

requests: open

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy fanfictiion #draco malfoy x reader #draco lucius malfoy #harry potter #harry potter series #possessive draco malfoy #jealous draco malfoy

[bxtchforstyles]

New baby blues

Harry Styles x Melody Styles

(part of the styles fam series)

When the fourth and final Styles child is born on Valentine's day, one of the children is a little less than excited.

Warning: none

Word court: ~2.1k

gif not mine.

Everyone in the Styles household remembers the day that Brinley was born in vivid detail, all except for Lila. 

Lila was only four years old at the time, which is usually when children’s prime memories begin to happen, but not for Lila. Her family often made jokes about how she had been brain wiped after that day, that’s how bad it was. 

Melody was almost to full term during her pregnancy when she went into labor the day before Valentine’s day, and that did not sit right with Lila. 

Her parents were only trying to rush out the door to go to the hospital once Gemma had arrived to watch the other three children, but Lila was not having it. Melody was already waiting outside in the car though, leaving Harry to have to fend for himself. 

“Daddy, daddy.” She was gripping onto the side of his trousers as he grabbed his wife’s hospital bag from the closet next to the front door. “Please don’t go.” She then begged.

It made her father’s heart swell when he looked down to see his now second youngest child holding like her life depended on it onto his hands, with tears welling in her eyes. 

“C’mere, muffin.” He sighed, reaching down to pick her up. “I know you don’t want mommy and daddy to go, but when we come back we’re bringing a new baby with us.” 

She did not look enthused, “Why?” 

Gemma quickly interjected so Harry wouldn’t have to face anymore disappointment, “you’re going to get a baby brother or sister. Isn’t that exciting, Lila?” 

Again, not enthused. “No, I don’t want another baby.” 

“Another?” Harry looked down at her from where she sat in his arms, “No honey, there’s only one baby coming home with us.” 

The tears that  had welled in her small blue eyes finally began to fall down her face, “b-but what about me, daddy?” 

“Awh, precious,” Harry felt awful as he pulled her small head into his chest as she cried, “You will always be my little girl, you know that, don’t you?” 

“But what’s going to happen when the new baby is here?” 

“You’ll be a big sister, Lila!” Kennedy, Harry and Melody’s eight year old daughter tried to make it seem exciting. 

“Noo” Lila whined, burying her face deep into Harry’s neck. 

Lila’s parents could sense the tantrum coming from a mile away, that’s when Gemma quickly scooped the little girl out of Harry’s arms, “okay, Lila, mommy and daddy have to go now.” 

That only caused more whining and squirming from Lila, making it almost impossible for Harry to walk out the door. 

But he did, right after saying goodbye to all his children and kissing Lila on the cheek. 

But even once the Range Rover pulled out of the gated driveway, Lila still continued to scream. 

“Lila, baby, why are you crying?” Gemma asked as she sat down on the couch with Lila in her arms, positioning her to be sitting on her lap. 

“I don’t want daddy to bring home a baby!” She sobbed, burying her head into her aunt’s chest. 

“Kennedy, why don’t you come tell your little sister how fun it is to be a big sister?” 

Kennedy came jogging over to her aunt, a big smile on her face as she sat down next to the two of them. “It’s super fun! You’ll love it, Lila!” 

“Daddy’s going to forget about me!” 

The eight year old took her little sister’s small hand, “No he won’t Lila, dad didn’t forget about me when you were born, so he wouldn’t do that to you either.” 

“See, Lila, being a big sister is fun!” Gemma smiled, lightly pinching the little girl's cheeks, making her smile. Then she looked at Kennedy, “Thank you, Kennedy.” 

That night when Lila went to bed, she asked Gemma if she liked being a big sister, Gemma responding by saying “Of course, and you’re going to love it too.” Making her smile before falling asleep.

******

The next day was not the greatest, for all of the kids. They were all aware that it was Valentines day, but it definitely didn’t feel like it was. 

“Are mom and dad still at the hospital?” Grant asked Gemma groggily as he reached the bottom of the stairs, Kennedy following closely behind. 

She only nodded, a small frown lacing her face when she saw the disappointment cross the two kids’ faces. 

Harry and Melody loved Valentine's day, and they wanted their kids to also, so they always woke the kids up with balloons littering the living room at the bottom of the stairs, along with pink, heart shaped pancakes for breakfast. 

Later in the day, they would order adorable heart shaped pizzas from their favorite pizza shop, and gorge on all types of festive candy after dinner. 

And the kids loved it, but this year, their parent’s weren’t even home to greet them on this special day. 

“Well, are they going to be home soon?” Kennedy asked next as the three of them walked into the kitchen. 

Lila was still asleep, probably being exhausted from all of her crying last night. 

“I don’t know guys, it just depends on when the baby is born.” Gemma felt awful as she saw the somber looks that the children carried. “Ya know what? I’ll call your dad after breakfast and ask how everything is going.”

They both nodded, “So, what do you guys want for breakfast? I can make you some cereal, or some eggs…” Gemma trailed off. 

That’s when the tears began to flood Kennedy’s eyes, the realization that her parents weren’t here to spend Valentine’s day with them finally hitting her. 

Gemma looked back after hearing a lack of a response, “Kennedy, what’s wrong?” she stepped towards her when she realized she was crying.

“Dad always makes up pancakes for Valentines day, shaped like hearts.” She whispers, making both Grant and Gemma look down sadly at her. 

“And him and mommy always fill the living room with balloons.” Grant adds. 

Then Gemma sighed, quickly picking up her phone, “Okay, let me make a quick phone call and I’ll see what I can do, okay?” She gave them a hopeful smile as they nodded.  

Gemma dialed her brother’s number as she walked out of the kitchen and into the laundry room, shutting the door quietly behind her. 

“Hello?” Harry’s voice sounded tired, and it was very likely that his sister’s phone call had woken him from his sleep, but Gemma didn’t care. 

“Ya know, Harry, if you are going to leave me with your children while you go have a baby on a national holiday, that’s fine, but you could have at least given me a heads up about the balloons and heart shaped pancakes that they would be expecting!” 

“Shit…” She heard Harry sigh from the other end of the phone, “I’m sorry, Gem.” 

“I’m just telling you, better hope that baby comes out covered in hearts if you are planning on coming home without balloons.” 

“Erm, well, she definitely isn’t covered in hearts…” 

It took Gemma a few moments to comprehend what he was saying, before she gasped, “Wait, she’s out? And it’s a girl?” 

“Yup, Brinley Claire was born at 2:07 this morning.” 

“And you didn’t think to inform me?!” Harry’s older sister yelled, but she was much too excited to actually be mad at him. 

“Listen, Gem. I have to help Mel with the baby, but I’ll come over in a little bit with some stuff for the others, kay?” 

“Okay, see you soon, tell Melody I say hi.” 

“Will do, bye Gem.” 

“Bye.” The phone call ended. 

“Okay! Who wants pancakes?” Gemma yelled happily as she entered the kitchen again, making the two kids smile and shout in excitingly. 

*******

It wasn't a super long time after Gemma and the kids ate breakfast that Lila woke up, still groggy and tired. She still seemed a little offset from last night, but her attitude seemed to be getting better.

All three children were beginning to become antsy by the time lunch came around, wondering if their parents were going to be coming home soon, and it only made it more difficult that Gemma knew just as little as the kids did. 

“Auntie Gem, is daddy coming home soon?” Kennedy asked, clinging to her leg. 

Her aunt softly stroked her hair “I'm sure he'll be here soon, angel.” 

And she was right, because only a little over thirty minutes later, the creaking of the front door made everyone look towards the large entryway of the home. 

“Dad!” Both Kennedy and Grant got up from where they were sitting on the carpeted floor in front of the T.v before they began rushing towards the front door. The scene honestly couldn’t have looked more like one out of a movie.

The odd part though, was the fact that Lila stayed put in her seat on the couch, a sour look on her face with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Hey guys!” Harry smiled as he set the balloons and pizza boxes down on the small table in the foyer as he held three small gift bags in his hand. He crouched down to their level, gripping his two eldest children to his chest, one in each arm. “Happy Valentine's Day!” 

Kennedy was now smiling much bigger than she had been at breakfast time, “We thought you forgot!” 

“About Valentines day?” Harry asked in an overly surprised tone, “Never.” 

He handed the small gift bags to Grant and Kennedy, realizing there was another one left over, “Where’s your sister?” He asked. 

They shrugged, “In the living room, I think.” Grant responded. 

“Lila?” Harry’s voice echoed through the tall ceilings of the entryway, he didn’t get a response. “I’ll be right back, guys, and we can eat some pizza.” 

When Harry entered the living room, he saw his youngest daughter sitting still on the couch, intently staring at the t.v. 

“Lila, muffin, I’ve got a present for you.” He would have bet on the fact that him saying that would catch her attention, but she didn’t even so much as glance at her father. 

Harry could only see the back of her head from where he stood from behind the couch, so he made his way around to the other side, seeing her blank face. 

“Hi, Lila.” He approached slowly, crouching in front of the couch where she sat. 

There were tears welling in her poor little eyes. 

He couldn’t help himself from standing and sitting next to her on the couch before picking her up and placing her on his lap. At first she squirmed, trying to get out of her father’s grasp, but after a few moments, she gave up on doing that. 

She laid her head on his chest, her own chest heaving with her heavy breaths as tears began to fall silently down her cheeks.

“Honey,” Harry looked down at his daughter, stroking her soft hair lightly, “tell me what’s wrong.” 

Her glossy eyes met his, “You left me…” She whispered quietly before burying her head into her father’s shoulder. 

“Lila, me and mummy left to go to the hospital so mummy could have the baby, remember?” 

“Where is t-the baby?” She asked through her chokes. 

“She’s at the hospital with mummy right now, her name is Brinley, she’s going to be moving in with us soon.” Harry was trying to act as calm as possible with how fragile his daughter was, but his heart was truly breaking. 

“Nooo” Lila dragged out, pulling her head back to look at her father in denial through more tears. 

“Lila, you are going to love your sister, she’s very little, and you can talk to her, and hold her, she might even hold your finger if you want her too. I’ve met her baby, she’s very sweet.” 

“Have you told her about me?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I’ve told her about you!” Harry laughs as he sees the smallest smile begin to form on Lila’s face. “And just between you and me, I think she’s really excited to meet you.” He then whispers. 

“Okay, daddy.” Lila giggled lightly, finally Harry thought. 

“Okay?” He confirms. 

“Okay.” She sighs, her eyes fluttering shut as she lays her head on his shoulder. 

“How about we go eat some pizza with G and Kenn, how does that sound?” He asks into her hair, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. 

“Is it heart shaped, daddy?” 

Harry only laughs, standing from the couch with Lila still in his arms. 

“Yes, it’s heart shaped, angel.” 

#styles fam series #harry styles #harry styles blog #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #solo harry #harry styles masterlist

[spencerscoven]

— dreams of another

about ; Since that night in the office you wander onto Spencer’s mind at all times, like clockwork.

gif by saramichellesgeller

CONTENT WARNING: unedited, smut, oral sex (male&female receiving), choking, unprotected sex, cheating, angst

a/n: view part 1 here.

The second time it happens, it's only a week that passes before Spencer finds himself on the floor of the humid conference room, his limbs entangled with yours, while the cool air settles on the sheen of sweat coated on his forehead. In the corner of of the room, he watches the navy blouse discarded carelessly on the top of a chair, similar in color to the marks between your breast.

The third time it happens, he tells you it's the last time, with his back facing you and his eyes gazing at entirely nothing.

The fourth and fifth time, Spencer doesn't say anything in the tiny space of your bedroom as he overlooks the buildings surrounding your apartment, then all the way to the concrete foundation down below, studying how insignificant everyone looked. How unknowing they were to the moral wrongdoings happening all around them.

"You live so high up. I live four floors down from here in my own building." You listened as he said those fruitless words.

"What does that mean?" You questioned, lips pursing together while your finger nails caught on the creases of the cream duvet beneath you where he laid only minutes before.

“People like you are meant to fuck people like me.” He mumbles, smirking, the vibrations of his voice upheld by the enclosures of cheap plaster walls.

The only thing left to do was to watch as the muscles of his back contracted, dancing in the lines of the darkness with the patter of his feet coming towards you. You monitored the direction of his hand as it reached for the band of his briefs, the other already latched around your neck.

The sixth time it happens, it’s in the bounds of his own apartment where he presses peppery kisses along the sides of your face, assuring you in confidence that she wouldn’t catch the two of you there. And he reassures you the only way he knows how, his fingers plying at your zipper and kneeling like he would at an alter, guiding the arch of your hips closer.

Two weeks from then was when the phone calls started. You began to understand the pattern, laying awake until the sweet pinnacle of dawn where he’d whisper your name through the receiver, exhaustion tainted in Spencer’s voice when he’d ask, “how was your night?” before he began to speak. You’d listen to Spencer talk about the good and the bad. About his mother, vintage cufflinks, and the bookshelf he wanted. Sometimes about the glasses or earrings in the store had reminded him of you. Often about how pretty you looked latched onto his cock. You wanted him to want to keep you.

You wanted him to want you first, to touch you before you even had to lay a finger on him, to grab the back of your neck and kiss you first. Anything he could do to prove that he wanted this too. Something in your head told you it was wrong to long for such a furtive thing. But you found yourself willing to be second best anyways, head stuck below sub zero while you prioritized the taste of his lips along with everything else that made him, him.

So in the shadows this thing between the two of you remained.

And the team began to realize Spencer now had a thing with being late.

They also began to realize that you didn’t drink nearly enough coffee to warrant all of your disappearances.

JJ malignly embarked on the observation of the two of you during meetings, where you never met Spencer’s eye properly but unconsciously leaned your body towards him with each interaction. And all at once it made sense to her, why he was more drawn to his phone, departing from bed at night in preference of hushed ringtones, his growing fondness to late nights. They had never agreed to a proclamation of love, not even on the days she relaxed on his dingy apartment furniture. JJ figured it was his way of waiting on her to feel the same as he might’ve, when in reality it was Spencer’s way of making sure you still remained in his life.

It was a Tuesday when she let the structure of your sin unravel in the bleak corner of the hallway with Spencer, confessing “i know” and chastening him,

“How many people are you willing to hurt?”

With the unequivocal decision pinned to the front of his brain, Spencer told you he didn’t want to hurt anyone else during the last call the two of you shared at night. The words became lost from your ears as you feigned deafness, thinking about how stupid you were to take him in the only way you could, thinking one-third of him be adequate enough.

So you hung up before he said goodbye, and it was easy to do solely because if love couldnt suffice, hate would have to.

It was odd to overlook the call that came immediately after, your eyes unblinking at the white screen. The weeks after that only came to demonstrate that finding a home within someone was overrated, even if you knew who was behind the blocked numbers that caused your phone to viberate so often it would fall off your nightstand.

Little by little you figured you’d forget and move onto your own devices, exhausted by the ability that you still moved through life, yet experienced none of it without itching for him next to you. You lusted after the idea you’d wake up with the intensity of it all slipped from your mind, forgetting how his arms felt, skin, pulse, the sound of his voice, or the soft ringlets of his hair that continued to grow as you wilted.

A harder idea to get out of your head was if he was okay, followed by if he ever thought of you at the same time you thought of him. Did he know you wouldn’t have minded resigning to another team? Or that you considered doing it, even now?

Spencer spectated your life, the base of his throat becoming caught when he watched you get worse, speak less, become smaller. You’d shrunken within yourself. Months passed, with him having too many inquiries about you to Morgan, who always gave him a disappointing look, but told him about you each time. That you hadn’t been sleeping, internal clock stuck on keeping you up until the crack of dawn, your mind regressing backwards solely because of him. He gave up on leaving those stupid sticky notes in your books that said “call me!” or even the ones that asked if you were okay, asking if you able to stand on your own.

He watched you so long that he began to see you get better, more social as you expanded, becoming a part of the team again. You were different, but you were you again. It was a bitter pill to swallow when he took heed that your life no longer included him, keeping his lips sealed at any revelation that would show he was still devoted.

So it was dull-witted when he found himself outside the door of your apartment, swaying back and fourth because every night since the last call his world had been spinning faster and faster, trapping him inside as a prisoner. For weeks straight Spencer had awoken with the feeling of bile ready to rise out of his throat, your presence always lacking even if you controlled the beat of his heart.

He knocked. And thought about how angelic you looked when you answered, the confused expression not going unnoticed by him as a celebration sounded somewhere in his mind because you looked as if you weren’t expecting anyone else. And Spencer knows he’d collapse right then and there if you had been.

“I’ve been thinking— it’s not like I can really stop it— for months. It’s been around sixty eight days since we last spoke,” He began, taking you in, enstilling trust in his brain to get a photo of you so well that he could have it forevermore if you didn’t want him anymore. If that had ever been the case he’d leave. He’d leave the state if you asked him to.

“Why are you here?” You only had four words to say out loud, the rest buzzing around in your head safely, unauthorized to rise out of your throat.

“We never really said anything about it but I think we both knew how we felt.” Spencer leans closer just in time for his lips to land beside your ears, lighting a match inside your chest that had stayed extinguished for far too long.

“Speaking was never our strong suit, anyway.” You replied, your lips pursed while your arms took on a defensive stance, pushing him back gently.

You were shipwrecked inside, pushing him back again, this time firmly because you knew you couldn’t stop him from coming closer, even if you wanted to. You were at a standstill as his hands brought yours to his shoulders, drawing circles on your hip with the tips of his fingers. He was in your doorway asking if he was yours, not trying to eloquently wrap you around his finger.

Your limbs acted before your mind did, digits moving across his adam’s apple and holding tight, restricting his airflow like he had done to you so many times while he fucked you into the mattress. You gleamed at him with not much in your eyes, trying to remembering when you had tried to cross the thin line between love and hate for him. Spencer’s eyes were soft and adoring, a look which he had a tendency to give you. So you held tighter. And he did nothing, knowing you wouldn’t go far but willing to die in your hands if you truly wanted to.

“I don’t know if you deserve this anymore,” Your lips ghosted over his, reprimanding him that he’d forgotten that this had began in a game of adultery.

“I don’t.” Spencer’s voice came out as if he was parched and you had been refusing him of a drink. Your hands released his neck and instead grabbed at his jaw, allowing his lips to mend together with yours, unable to speak back.

“If I loved you any less, I’d be able to talk about it more.” He pulled away just enough to whisper those words.

“You love me?” You questioned, a bit timid in the way it came out.

“It’s more than that. I adore you. Worship, even.”

You felt yourself moving the both of you into your apartment, swapping the publicity of the hallway for the privacy closely afforded to you. Your bodies only got so far, pushing each other against the wall next to the enterence, Spencer’s hands helping to arch your body into his, hands pressing down the curve of your back.

You enjoyed feeling him subtly grind his hips against you while he let out little whimpers, remembering the way he was so vocal and sensitive, yet dominant when he laid between your legs. You drew in a quick breath as he bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw the red liquid that ran through your body, conflicted as to why it only drew you closer, want intensified.

“I missed you so much,” Spencer’s voice ghosted in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking along your throat and collarbones, pushing the palm of his hand harshly against your damp cotton underwear, drawing a shiver from you. “Are lilacs still favorite flowers?”

His fingers played along your slit, the pads of his thumb pressing on your clit and rotating above the fabric, watching your hips jerk from the subtle pleasure.

“I think you missed me too,” Spencer held you, switching places so you now were encased between him and the wall, knowing that soon enough your knees wouldn’t be able to hold you up. His index and middle finger filled you up in a way only he could, the tips of them curving in his direction as he hit the bumpy ridge inside of you.

You held his shoulder, uncaring that your nails dug into the expensive button up he wore, admiring that he always preferred quality over quantity. Your face contorted in pleasure as his fingers only pumped faster inside of your vagina, only smirking at the sorry attempt of a nod you gave to answer him because he had rendered you speechless.

You felt the climb of your orgasm rise in your stomach, reaching all the way to the rest of your limbs, making them feel as if they were just static attached to your body until his fingers ceased, sensing how you clenched around them desperately. Your mouth opened, protests ready to fall out while he grasped the back of your knees, signaling you to jump so he could carry you to your bedroom.

“Why are you always such a tease?” You groaned, endearingly grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I can’t just let your greedy pussy swallow my fingers and cum from just that...” he tosses you into your sheets gently, leaning down to take your top off and throwing it somewhere to be rediscovered again.

He watches silently as you lift your hips off the mattress, panties sliding down your calves to your ankles, and finally off. Spencer gazes down at you, your jaw in his two hands, staring up with puppy eyes. He let a line of swears spring from his mouth, wondering why you looked so innocent when your hands were planted on his hips, licking the precum that made a wet patch on the side of his pants.

“Quite unfair that I’m the only one with my clothes off, don’t you think?” Your hands settled on his belt buckle, the jingle of metal filling the room as you undid the button to his slacks as well. Tugging him by the band of his boxers to lay on the bed with you, Spencer caught the cue and laid against the headboard. He trailed his left hand along your thighs, lifting you to straddle him as his right latched onto your breasts, squeezing.

“Please sit,” He said, taking a nipple into his mouth, “On my face.”

You sat in a slightly worried daze, Spencer catching the clue to just move you into the position. You found yourself facing the mirror at the foot of your bed, your ass in his face as he grabbed at your hips, trying to bring you higher and get a taste.

“Are you sure?” You apprehensively twisted your torso to eye him, taking note that the two of you had came across something you’d quite done before.

“Yes, I need you to.” Spencer reached his arm around, gently rubbing your clit, and feeling how your whole body relaxed from above him, as he repeated affirmations against your back.

You watched from the mirror, your ass propped up in his face and lips swollen. You could even see when you began the swivel of your hips into him. He didn’t need to say much else before you arched your back, planting your pussy right above his lips.

“You’re so pretty.” He whispered, before running his tongue flatly against your pussy.

Your hips jerked back and fourth, riding on the surface of his tongue that enveloped your clit, sucking on it harshly until he flatly ran it up. His fingers were back at work, touching the places where his tongue couldn’t reach. You determined that this position was now one of your favorites, your hands that were once placed on the tops of his thighs reaching for the bludge in his boxers.

You tried pulling them just far enough so you could begin to run your hands up and down his cock. Spencer’s tongue only assaulted your clit harder when you leaned down, allowing him a new angle so you could push him into your mouth, collecting the precum that had spilt, humming in delight.

Spencer couldn’t stop the thrusting of his hips upwards, burying himself deeper down your throat, both of your moans viberating off the atoms in your room. Your eyes wandered up as you watched, hypnotized at the reflection of you two. It made you wanna take his dick deeper, taking him to the back of your throat as you felt his cum ripple out.

Your orgasm only took a few more seconds to follow his, your moan muffled from your jaw expanded around his cock. Your hasty breaths harbored his while you saw stars. You were casted out of your stupor when you felt the palm of his hand rub circles into your ass, hand coming down in a smack.

“This fucking pussy has me whipped.” Spencer sighed, pressing a kiss exactly where his hand last struck.

When you positioned yourself back across his abdomen, you kneeled, kissing him. You felt him twitch under you from tasting himself on your tongue, reaching down to line up his cock to enter you.

Spencer stared up at you, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of you slowly descending your pussy on his cock. His hands traced the hickies that dawned on your chest, then to his on his lower stomach, watching how the two of you connected. These were marks of possession— ones that he could finally show off.

You rolled your hips against his, slowly circling them and allowing him to hit the most sensitive parts of you. You felt so much fuller than usual, the feeling taking your breath away. Nobody else could reach those heights that Spencer gave you. Maybe it was also because nobody else could occupy your mind like he could, either.

He pulled you down so the two of you could reunite your lips, wearing away at the callouses that had formed around your heart. His thumb drew slow circles on your clit, pulling your orgasm out so you could cum above him. It took a few more thrusts before he came inside you, continuing to fuck his seed back into you from below for just a while longer. When Spencer’s hips stilled, he kept inside, basking in the embodiment of you that wholly consumed him.

He silently traced the outlines of your features, your eye lids fluttering as he reached to them. His fingernails scratched your scalp im a rythem that lulled you into hazy exhaustion. You feel his stare on your face as it occurs to him that he was doomed from the start. You were a wonder to behold.

“Spencer?”

“Yes?”

“Did you forget all of the things I remember?”

“I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

masterlist

#spencerscoven #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x reader #angst #bau #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic

[ldouble]

You Smell Good | Harry Styles X Reader

summary: You and Harry prepare for the Met Gala. The only thing you fixate on...other than everything...is the way you smell. Harry on the other hand, can’t get enough of it.

if we like this enough...should it be a senses series?

----------

this gif is not mine credit to harryisart omg i love this

You can’t help but tug at your sleeves. Someone’s hand shoos it away which you let. That is until your collar seems off. When you’re bugged away from that part of your clothing you find another to busy yourself with. Then its your hair. Your makeup. Your nails.

You’re above to dive into your skin (it looks wayyyyyy too orange) when the hands finally have a voice.

“Stop it.”

You roll your neck dramatically, flopping your chin down to glare at Harry. Sitting in a director’s chair, getting his hair done. It was a ridiculous thought when he was first placed there, his holding a fourth of what you have attached to yours but it now makes sense considering he’s been there for about double the amount of times yours took.

At the thought of it, your fingers move up unconsciously to pick at your styled mane. But, having discovered his speech is much stronger than his hands, Harry tag teams the two.

“You look fine.”

“Says you.” You shoot back, going to pick at the skin around your fingers.

Suddenly all movement is paused as your hands are clasped tight in Harry’s, his eyes finding yours. His smile is gentle which makes his next words the most surprising.

“Says what about me?”

Your head tips back at his humorous suffering. It’s when he’s halfway through a monologue about the time and money and oh so painful hours of planning that went into his look, you’re clutching your stomach and begging him to stop.

“Now I’m really going to mess something up.”

Harry sighs, tilting his head away from the stylist to get a good look at you. “You could never.”

You suck in a breathe. The hotel room has been hot for hours. The people in and out, the steamers and blow dryers and the shots that Harry has been sending since lunch has made the whole space...staticy.

One more intense look or loving statement from your friend and you’re sure to stain the black dress you wear.

Said to be impossible but nothing is, not when you’re about to walk down the Met Gala pink carpet with your best friend since diapers.

Especially since you’re not wearing diapers.

You’re wearing clothes more expensive than what God himself wears in a suite straight out the montages of movies and the water you’ve been drinking is so heavy it makes you think you’re drinking liquid gold.

Or maybe that’s just the nerves bunching in your stomach that’s causing everything you send down to feel like its all going to come back up.

You put a hand to your mouth, close your eyes and try to count to ten.

But its the thing that touches you gently on the cheek that relaxes you.

It’s not six hundred dollar hair brush or a touch up from a celebrity stylist. The complimentary moisturizer of the hotel (which only exists in places like these) doesn’t skim your skin.

Its a priceless hand that grazes you, sending every worry and knot away just like room service was cleared earlier.

You can’t help but lean into his touch, take a deep breath of hair product and the horrible smelling perfume someone sprayed on you.

Your eyes open when you sense him leaning in, making you all but freeze. What could he be thinking?

“You smell terrible.”

Of course that’s what he’s thinking.

“You, Mr. Co Chair, put so much thought and effort and money into this thing,” You say, moving to look in the mirror he facing. The sight of you both so done up and put together (a real change from the sweatshirts you live in when back in London when watching all of the events like the one you’re about to be in) makes you stumble. Harry begins to turn his head, forcing you to grab him and face it back to your reflection. “And the one thing you fumble on in my perfume.”

“Trust me every choice was mine,” Harry defends as I stand to rumble through my suitcase. The duffel, a Year 10 gym bag you still use, had been useless all night. Until now of course. “Except that.”

You shrug, wandering back over to him, your own personal balm in hand. “Hey, I’m not the one who has to whisper in my ear and tell me how pretty I am all night and ingest a whiff of what smells like dog poop.”

Harry’s head tips back with a laugh as you uncap the bottle, handing it to him. “I thought I could whisper in your hear and tell you how awful you smell. Think of the faces you’d make for the cameras.”

“Don’t even.” You turn, holding your ponytail up (much to the dismay of the stylist packing up across the room. “Spritz a tad on my neck will you.”

“Interesting spot.” Harry mumbles, doing as told.

“I’m expecting a kiss from some celebrity there tonight.” You flip back once the cool mist hits you. Harry’s eyes are stuck on your exposed collarbone but you pretend not to notice as you reach for the bottle. “Can’t have him knowing I smell.”

“Right.” Harry squints.

You spritz your wrists, rub them together and then bend down to the slit in the back of your dress. “If you fan my dress out I can’t have you bunching up your nose.”

Harry takes the nose tap, grabbing your hand afterwards. He then dips down to sniff your wrists, a content smile on his lips as he looks up. “Much better.”

“See, if you had known you had an opinion on how I smelled, you would’ve thought of this earlier.” You shake the perfume bottle at him, straightening out your dress as he stands up, going as far to help you get situated.

“Like I would’ve been able to capture it.”

“Capture what?” You smile, accepting your purse form one of the thousand of people in the room. You do it absently mindly having not noticed them in a while. With Harry it always feels like just you two.

You assume he thinks the same, especially the way he ignores final touch ups and looks at you like you really are the only other breathing thing in the vicinity. “Harry.”

He purses his lips as you egg him on. You seem him bite the inside of his cheek and it amkes you want to out a hand on it. But the way the room got so hot when he did that to you. And now with everyone moving around and the nerves building as someone shouts out something about arrival approaching...you couldn’t take it.

You never could.

Why were you doing this? How did you ever say yes to going out there with him in front of everyone? This was the freaking Met Gala. You hadn’t so much as gone on stage with him. Being with Harry was great. Being with Harry with the whole world was horrible.

At least you thought.

You saw how other best friends were treated. Talked about. Lied about. Made up about.

He was your best friend.

You couldn’t take it.

“Capture all you are to me in some dinky little bottle.” He finished, bending down to grab your focus.

It works. He could take it. Your eyes. And he did.

He takes more than that though. Again the nerves fly away and the knots undo and you’re left just being you.

It’s good you smell like you too.

You shrug again, making your way to the door with his hand in yours. You’ve always had to pull him along. Never before had you thought you would do this at the Met Gala but the usual finds its self in the unusual.

“You’re just lucky. You might not have a supermodel date but you’ve got a girl who smells just like-”

“You.”

You look back at him, your purse falling to the ground at the sight of his eyes all hazy and his smile so sweet.

His words are stunning. God damn soulful.

Dressed in his Gucci sheer ensemble, it’s like he’s singing at the fanciest of events to the girl of his dreams.

But it’s just you. A girl wearing 10 dollar perfume from the corner store.

It’s his turn to pull you. You switch spots as you’re frozen in yours and he leads you into the hallway, grabbing your bag on the way.

“You smell like you and hair spray and the onion ring you just ate.”

Your hand flies to your mouth for a breath check when he pulls you close in the elevator.

“You smell great.”

You look up at him, a smile on your lips.

“And you,” Your hands can’t help but play with the ribbons on his collar. “Have smelled better nearly every other time.”

He chuckles, his top teeth hugging his bottom lip. The ding of the elevator sounds before the car stops with a thud. People are moving. There’s talking. There’s so much going on but all you can smell is....

Carpet cleaner.

And windex for the mirror walls.

And Harry.

You can’t wait to see what else you sense along the way.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #metgala #harry #harry styles x blurb #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot

[albdodaze]

blooming. y.itadori

‘she’s satoru’s sister’ (chapter two)

warnings: none

context: IN WHICH kami gojo, younger sister of certain powerful jujutsu sorcerer, meets an idiot who makes cold barrier around her heart melt.

There weren't many things that Kami hated. She probably poured all her hatred onto her parents, whom she felt incredibly sorry for. But there was another thing that Kami hated practically as much as her parents.

"She’s Satoru's sister. From Gojo Family."

Oh, how she hated being seen only as the sister of a famous jujutsu sorcerer and a member of a powerful family.

Kami wasn't powerful, in fact, she had no cursed energy, she couldn't do any cursed technique. The only thing she had in common with her family was that she could see curses, nothing more. She was often referred to as the window of the Gojo family. No one ever wanted to meet her, no one wanted to know anything about her, and when someone actually started talking to her, it was only to find out about Satoru.

Because of this, she was also the scapegoat in the family. Her parents were ashamed of her. In fact, they abhorred her. They couldn't stand the thought that their daughter was nothing compared to her family. Compared to her brother. Therefore, she was excluded from practically everything that went on in her family. Meetings, celebrations, birthdays, nothing. She was always left alone at home, under the care of the babysitter her parents had hired.

When she was younger, she thought it was just the way it was supposed to be, that it was like that in every family. After all, they never hit her, so what was wrong with that? Sometimes they yelled at her, screamed about not being good enough, but they never hit her. So nothing bad happened, right? Right?

The only thing she had in common with her family was her white hair and her rather tall height. And everything else was different. Even her eyes were black. Black. When her family had them blue, heavenly.

As she grew up, she began to understand how different she was from her family. She saw how disappointed they were in her for not being like them. So she began to practice and learn as much as she could. By the age of twelve, she already knew all about cursed weapons, she knew how to use them, how to defend herself. But her parents continued to look down on her. They continued to look at her with the same eyes. With pity and disgust.

The only person who didn't seem to look down on her was her brother. Satoru. And still, Kami hated him with all her heart.

She hated being inferior to him. She hated being compared to him. She hated being in his shadow. She hated all of him.

And yet she continued to stay with him. She stayed with him because of that stupid bond, the fear that no one else would accept her, that no one else would love her. Because no matter how angry, pissed off Kami could be at him, no matter how much she could call him names and tell him how much she hated him, he always stayed by her side and never doubted her.

After all, he was her big brother, how could he doubt in his loving little sister, for whom he would give his life, for whom he would do anything.

Satoru loved—duh—loves Kami with all his heart and considers her the smartest, strongest, and most beautiful woman—not girl, woman—he could ever meet. Satoru is the proudest brother, and he couldn't be prouder of how well his little sister, who holds his whole heart, is doing.

Even though she was over a decade younger than him, Kami was able to talk some sense into him more than once, show him how wrong he was about many things. Kami had taught him everything. It was for her that he tried his best. It was for her that he stayed in his family home as long as possible. It was for her that he befriended Megumi, seeing how well the two of them would get along and not being able to pass up the opportunity to find—probably—a lifelong friend for his sister.

And he found one.

Satoru was able to stay with Kami through the nights while she learned all about jujutsu sorcerers, he would bring her tea whenever she ran out of it, he would make her food when he heard her stomach clamoring for a snack. He would be the one to move her helpless body from her desk chair or the floor to her soft and comfortable bed so her back and neck wouldn't hurt the next morning.

He was the one who brought her breakfast every morning, for which he got up two hours earlier before her alarm clock. And when he was out, he would always send her a simple "have a nice day, don't forget to drink water" in the morning with some stupid meme or gif he found on the internet. It was the only thing Kami always woke up at 6:30am for, a silly and simple text message from her brother.

Let's also not forget the "good night, I love you little sister, sleep well" in the evening. Kami would never admit it, but she has screenshots of every single such message, printed out and tucked away in one of her binders, in case her phone breaks or gets lost.

In the end, Kami snapped. After all, how could she hate her brother, who would do anything to make her the happiest person in the world, who would do anything so that only his sister could have the best life, the one she deserved.

A soft knock on the door of her room snapped her out of her thoughts. She knew very well who it was. After all, he had said himself that as soon as he showed Yuuji around, he would come.

"You alive?" Her brother's familiar voice asked and Kami lifted her head from her pillow, smiling softly.

"How do you feel?"

"Like pulled straight from the grave," she muttered, and Satoru laughed, sitting down on the edge of her bed where she lay. "Itadori's been in his room since yesterday?" She asked, and her brother nodded. "Megumi?"

"He and Yuuji are already on their way to Harajuku where we're supposed to meet the fourth student," he replied, and Kami raised an eyebrow.

"Why didn't you go with them?"

"I was waiting for you," he smiled softly and started to speak before Kami had a chance. "And don't tell me you're not going. The fourth student is a girl, maybe you'll get along. Besides, you need to get out of this room eventually. And I don't mean leaving the room to move to Megumi's room or mine," he said as he noticed his sister opening her mouth to start defending herself. "Come on, I'll buy you a bubble tea on the way, okay?"

Kami glared at him for a good few seconds and finally sighed, which caused a big grin to spread across Satoru's face, which Kami smiled at, too.

With the help of her brother, the white-haired girl got out of bed and put on her feet, covered in black knee-high socks, mary-jane boots—the same colour as her socks—from her school uniform.

She quickly looked at herself in the mirror again, checking if her pleated mid-thigh skirt hadn't rolled up and if her short button down jacket, covering her perfectly white turtleneck, hadn't twisted anywhere. Adjusting her hood pinned to her jacket, she walked out the door that Satoru had opened for her, having previously put her phone in her pocket.

Just as Satoru had promised, they quickly bought her favorite strawberry bubble tea on the way and immediately headed towards the street they were supposed to meet at. As soon as they saw two familiar faces in the distance, Satoru raised his hand.

"Sorry for the wait!" He shouted and headed with Kami towards the two teenagers. "Your uniform made it in time, I see," he added when he saw a perfectly fitting uniform for Yuuji.

"Yeah, it's a perfect fit. Though it's slightly different from Fushiguro's. It has a hood, for one," Yuuji said, taking the red hood his uniform had in his hand.

"That's because the uniforms can be customised upon request," Satoru replied.

"Huh? But I never put in any requests."

"I was the one who put in the custom order. With a little help of our master," Satoru smiled, pointing at his sister, who was shorter than him and too focused on her bubble tea to get anything out of the conversation.

"Whatever, I guess," Yuuji replied.

"Be careful. Gojo-sensei has a tendency to do things like that," Megumi interjected, looking at his classmate out of the corner of her eye. "Most importantly, why are we meeting up in Harajuku?"

"Because it's what she asked for," said Satoru.

"Ahh! Popcorn! I want some!"

After a few minutes, Satoru poked his sister with his elbow and, as she raised her eyes at him, he pointed to something by the entrance to the street, or rather, someone.

There stood a redheaded girl, not too tall, tiring of some middle-aged man, but Kami couldn't hear what was going on through the crowd of people making noise around her. The short-haired girl had a very similar uniform to Kami, though this one had brown moccasins, black tights and a white shirt instead of black mary-jane shoes, knee socks and turtleneck.

"This is kinda embarrassing," Yuuji spoke up with his 2018 glasses on his nose and popcorn in one hand, in the other ice cream. Kami shook her head and closed her eyes, going back to drinking her bubble tea.

"So are you," Megumi heard and she snorted softly making the drink she was drinking fly up her nose.

As Kami tried to get rid of the sticky drink from her nose, the redhead approached them and began leading them to 400 Yen Corner where she could leave her luggage.

As the other freshman girl closed the locker with her things, she turned towards the rest of them and put her hand on her hip.

"Ok, once again," Satoru began and pointed his hand at the girl.

"Kugisaki Nobara. Be happy, boys. I'm the one woman in your group," she said, as if she hadn't noticed Kami standing next to her brother at all.

"And what am I? Guide dog?" Kami said, pulling away from her already almost finished drink. Nobara looked at the girl and her eyes lit up.

"Oh, hey! I didn't notice you. We will be great friends!" she said and returned her gaze to the two boys in her year.

"I'm Itadori Yuuji. I'm from Sendai!"

"Fushiguro Megumi."

"Kami Gojo. Guide dog."

After a few seconds in which Nobara looked like she was thinking hard about something, she finally sighed.

"I always get stuck with unfortunate circumstances," she said and sighed once more.

"She took one look and sighed," muttered Itadori.

"Are we going somewhere from here?" Megumi asked, turning his gaze to Satoru, who only laughed.

"We do have all four of you together. Not to mention, two of you are from the countryside," said Satoru, lifting his head proudly and throwing his arm around his sister's shoulders. "So of course we're going on a tour of Tokyo!"

Nobara and Itadori began shouting "Tokyo!", attaching themselves to Satoru, causing Kami to have to walk over to Megumi, throwing away an empty cup on the way.

"We're definitely not going on any tour," Kami muttered, and Fushiguro-kun nodded softly, knowing Gojo-sensei all too well.

"We love Tokyo!"

"TDL! I want to go to TDL!"

"Idiot! TDL's in Chiba! Let's go to Chinatown, Sensei!"

"Chinatown's in Yokohama!"

"Yokohama's part of Tokyo! Don't you know that? Look at a map!"

Kami, Satoru and Megumi were quietly watching the argument that was going on in front of them when the elder Gojo spoke up.

"I will now announce our destination!"

Nobara and Itadori knelt before Satoru at which Kami shook her head with her eyes closed and Megumi deadpanned at them.

"Roppongi!"

"Roppongi?!" Said Itadori and Nobara at the same time, looking at each other, incredibly pleased with what they heard.

#itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji x you #itadori yuji x y/n #itadori yūji #itadori yuji x oc #yuji itadori x you #yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori #itadori yuuji #gojo sensei #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru #jjk satoru #jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jjk itadori #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

[cinebration]

Prophetic Fucking Visions (Alfie Solomons x Reader) [One-shot]

Prompt: “Am I not good enough?” / “I’m not good enough.”

For @writeroutoftime​! I had so much fun writing this! I was nervous, because I love Alfie so much and felt I couldn’t write him, but here we are. I hope you like it!

Warnings: blood and guts, seagull death

Gif Source: cillianmurphyss

You first met Alfie on the shore, though you were in the sand and he was above you on the bluff. A gunshot exploded above your head.

Curses spewed out of you as you ducked, your heart pounding in your chest. A seagull went down in a puff of feathers, blood splattering onto your hair.

You swore loudly.

Alfie’s grizzled face peered over the bluff, eyes squinting down at you. “Fuck me, that’s a woman.”

Shading your eyes against the sun, you glared up at him. “What gave it away?”

“Not your fuckin’ sailor’s mouth,” he boomed at you.

If only I had a sailor’s fist, I’d knock you down, you thought.

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean for all that shit on ya. Come on up and get yourself cleaned up.”

You hesitated. You didn’t know him, and he still had the pistol in his hand. “I’ll manage,” you called up.

“Fuck me, you want me to throw down a rag instead?”

It was better than walking back into town with seagull oozing down your face. “If you please.”

“Awright,” Alfie croaked, disappearing.

After five minutes of waiting, the sun starting to beat down on you, you decided the rag wasn’t worth waiting for. You resumed your walk across the beach.

“Woman!”

You stopped in your tracks and turned toward the voice. Alfie lumbered across the sand toward you, a small towel clutched in one broad hand. You stared at him. The man seemed to be a bear, shoulders slightly hunched as he made his way to you.

The horrid scar on the left side of his face and the milky blue eye drew your attention last. The other eye searched your face as he at last stopped before you and extended the cloth.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, taking it from him and roughing it over your hair.

“Not seen you around these parts, Sailor Mouth.”

You arched your eyebrows. “Sailor Mouth?”

“Got nothin’ else to call you ’til you give me your name.”

“And what would I call you?”

“The Wandering Jew.”

Your eyebrows arched higher, but you kept quiet. Raking the towel over your hair and ears one last time, you asked, “Did I get it all?”

Lips pressing together, he surveyed your head. Taking the towel from your hand, he swiped it along your forehead and then down the back of your neck, wiping away the last of the gunk. He grunted his approval.

“Thank you,” you repeated.

“For getting seagull guts all over you? That’s bad luck, that is.”

A rueful chuckle slipped past your lips. “Call me Bad Luck Sailor Mouth.”

Alfie’s good eye glimmered.

~~

“I do the odd thing here and there. Nothing too respectable,” you said with a laugh.

Alfie walked alongside you on the beach. You had chanced upon him a week after the seagull incident. He had struck up a friendly, albeit strange conversation with you before you had been forced to return back to town.

This was the fourth such meeting. It seemed he had been waiting for you this time. You only walked the beach once a week, not always on the same day, so he must have waited each day to see if you’d walk by.

“I used to make bread,” he said. “It isn’t too respectable neither.”

“Well, I’m sure real bakers would abhor liquid bread.”

He looked at you sharply.

“Your reputation precedes you,” you informed him. “It seems you’re a god down in Camden Town.”

He grunted. “I was resurrected.”

“And I was swallowed into the whale’s belly.”

He laughed. “That where you got your sailor’s mouth, is it?”

“More like my bad luck.”

He looked at you with that unblinking stare of his. It disconcerted you less and less the more you saw it. He seemed to be fixing it on you more frequently, though you couldn’t understand why. You felt scrutinized, a not altogether unpleasant feeling from him.

“You eat?” he asked.

“What, whales? That’s not how I got out of that mess.”

His eyes gleamed wickedly in the setting sun. “Dinner.”

“Sure, if you have whale to spare.”

“No whale, I fuckin’ hate fish.”

“I suppose that’s alright. It’d just taste like bad luck.”

Alfie lumbered off in the direction of his home. You managed to keep pace with him, his stride long but unhurried. A light breeze blew off the sea, tickling your cheeks with sea spray even at a distance. Ominous clouds gathered on the horizon, the distant breakers foaming white as the wind whipped them into a frenzy.

Alfie refused to let you help in the kitchen. You followed him into it anyway, watched him work. He had put a chicken in his oven earlier. You gathered he had hoped to have you over for dinner—had probably prepared a special meal every day until you arrived.

“On occasion,” he informed you, “I did make real bread.” He set a basket full of it before you.

You plucked off a small roll and began to eat it as you waited for him to finish roasting some vegetables. “A chicken, huh?”

“The seagull I shot didn’t keep. It was a stringy bastard.”

You laughed, the sound filling the space over the sizzle of the stove.

You enjoyed every bite of dinner. Alfie watched you with interest as you ate your fill.

“What’s a woman like you doin’ here in Margate? Why aren’t you in London or someplace?”

“Too big and noisy.” You shrugged. “Nobody gets seagull in my hair or shoots at boats for fun. I guess they only do that to people.”

“Ah, well, I’ve done that. Shot people.”

You lifted your head to see him staring at you. “For business or…?”

He leaned back in his chair, appraising you. “A bit of both.”

You nodded and resumed eating. Your inquiries about him after your first meeting had told you that much about him.

Dessert was succulent fruit. Alfie had fallen into silence, not quite brooding but definitely pensive. He directed you into the living room, the open balcony doors overlooking the ocean. The storm approached, a mild rain beginning to fall.

It reminded you of the rainy days of your childhood. Your mother would stoke the hearth fire and spin yarns to while away the hours.

The weather and Alfie’s unusually subdued demeanor pulled you down into a somber mood.

“My mother told me a story once,” you murmured, “one I’ve never forgotten. It goes like this. A young man meets a beautiful woman—the woman of his dreams, he thinks—who always treats him well but never responds to his advances. He watches her from afar, watching as other men try to woo her. She treats them coldly. He thinks to himself, ‘She must love me. She treats me better than them.’ But try as he might, with flowers and sweets and pretty words, he can’t get her to acknowledge her feelings.

“So one day, he asks, desperate, ‘Am I not good enough?’ And she says, ‘I’m not good enough. I’d make a poor wife. I’ll never be the woman in your dreams.’ He protests, but she tells him, ‘I have a temper, and I speak my mind. I wake ill-humored and have days where it feels like the whole sky is gray and nothing can lift it. My smile is fake, and I hate this place.’

“He realizes with a broken heart that she is not the woman he believed her to be, and he leaves her.”

Silence descended on you both.

“I hate that story,” you hissed quietly. “It doesn’t tell you that he drinks too much and stays out late, that he would make an equally poor husband. He isn’t the man of her dreams either. Neither is enough alone, but together, they can be.”

Alfie shifted in his seat. The creak of his chair drew your attention. A deep furrow scored his brow. “Dreams, yeah?” The tension in his voice sent a shiver through you.

“Yeah,” you echoed.

“I’ve been having these dreams lately, see. They’ve got this woman in it, yeah, but I can’t see her face. She could be anyone. In these dreams, she asks me a question, right? And I know in that moment she will be my death.” He looked at you, unblinking. “You’ve got a question for me, yeah?”

You met his gaze. It was the question you hadn’t asked when he had introduced himself. “What did you do to condemn yourself to be the wandering Jew?”

He stilled. The waves crashed on the shore beyond the window, seagulls shrieking overhead.

“Yeah.” His voice rumbled in his chest. “That’s it.”

“Any woman could’ve asked that.”

“They would’ve asked, ‘Why do you call yourself that? What’s it mean?’ But you know what it means, so you asked the right question.”

“How will I be your death, then?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Thunder pealed, shaking the windows.

“Should I leave?”

“Did I say that? I came to Margate to fucking die, yeah? I’d rather someone love me to death than this fucking cancer.”

You swallowed thickly. “I’m not the woman of your dreams.”

“You’re right,” he growled. “I don’t have dreams. I have prophetic fucking visions. So are ya gonna fuckin’ kiss me or wot, Sailor Mouth?”

“You bet your fucking ass I am.”

#Alfie Solomons x Reader #Alfie Solomons #Alfie Solomons imagine #Tom Hardy x Reader #Tom Hardy #Tom Hardy imagine #Peaky Blinders #woot1kchallenge #request

[stardust-kenobi]

First

Obi Wan Kenobi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Obi Wan finds out that you’re a virgin after an evening with him at the bar. You asked him if he would be your first.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: vanilla smut, soft obi wan🥺

A/N: This wasn’t requested. I do have a few requests I have received that I will be working on this week. This one was mostly taken from a fic I wrote with a different character a while back. It was edited to fit Obi Wan💕

gif cred: @princessxkenobi

The liquor coated your throat as you threw back the remains of your fourth, unnecessarily strong drink. Your eyes met the dark, dimly lit ceiling of the bar as your head was tilted backward. You weren’t wincing at the awful flavor anymore as your taste buds became practically numb. You confidently slammed the glass onto the bar, nonverbally announcing you were ready for some more alcohol.

The very busy bartender was quick to replace your glass, reminding himself of the money he’d be making off of you this evening. Your best friend, Obi Wan, had accompanied you to the bar tonight. It was not often that he’d let loose but this evening, he’d thrown a few drinks back himself. Anakin had joined you two as well, but he left so that he could spend some quality time with Padme. The two of you remained in the bustling and rowdy crowd, clinging to the bar and chatting the time away.

An odd looking, clearing intoxicated man approached you on the left. Obi Wan stood next to you on your right.

“Hello, pretty thing” he slurred his words. You attempted to scoot away from him. Obi Wan had not noticed his presence yet.

“I said hello” he repeated himself, this time with a sour, demanding attitude.

“I’m not interested” your words were blank and empty of emotion. Obi Wan perked up, now fully aware of the situation.

“Bitch” the man spat at you.

“Excuse me. what is the problem here?” Obi Wan intervened, thankfully.

“This whore right here. That’s the problem” his verbal hostility heightened the dramatic nature of the situation. Obi Wan moved to step in front of you and protect you, he opened his mouth to defend you but he was rudely interrupted.

“What? Is she fucking you? Is that why she won’t fuck me?” He inquired, putting harsh emphasis on his words.

“Alright I think it best if you le-” Obi Wan began, fully prepared to physically throw this man out of the bar if necessary. A fun, drunk driven idea found its way into your thought process.

“Yes, we are” You interrupted proudly and shot to your feet from the bar stool. You turned to Obi Wan behind you and flashed him a please-go-along-with-this look. His expression was still angry.

“Aren’t we, Obi Wan?” You continue and wrap your arm around him sloppily and place your other hand on his slightly exposed chest.

You felt the effect of the alcohol intensify as you moved. Obi Wan’s expression had transformed from pure irritation directed at the man, to satisfaction directed at you and your newly formed plan.

“Yeah.. You heard her” Obi Wan attempted to sell the lie while you’re wrapped around him. You could tell he was drunk too. It was subtle, but you’d been around him enough to pick up on his inebriated signals.

“Prove it” The man blurts out suddenly. Obi Wan looks down at you clinging to him with a clueless look on his sweet face. You assume he has no idea how to play this out and decide to take it into your own hands. There was no time to give silent messages to each other now. You moved your face toward his, tension growing exponentially. You grasped his shirt and pulled him into you. Your uncoordinated motions caused your lips to crash onto his harder than you’d intended. Nonetheless, Obi Wan’s lips moved so passionately against yours.

Although this kiss was all for show, you felt a warm tingling feeling in your stomach. The man stood next to the two of you and watched, completely speechless. You smirked slightly against Obi Wan’s lips, silently communicating to him. You move your hand from his chest to his groin and grope him firmly. Obi Wan jumped at the contact then groans quietly into your mouth. After a few long seconds of passionate kissing, you pulled away with a sly look on your face. You nodded your head and raise an eyebrow to the man’s annoyed face. You turn back to Obi Wan, observing a surprised, yet satisfied look plastered across his expression.

“Ah that ain’t nothing, y’all just made out” He said, tremendously unconvinced and displeased. You threw your hands up in frustration and Obi Wan belted out a hardy laugh for more reasons than one. Normally this would be out of character for him. His mood would have turned way too serious very quickly had that situation occurred while he was sober.

“Seriously? Do you want to watch us fuck for you to be convinced?” You rhetorically ask him, hoping he wasn’t actually going to say yes. Your filthy words were shocking to you as they flew off your tongue. Obi Wan jolted his attention to you, you didn’t see it, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Really I just want to see you without any clothes on, so yeah sweetheart that would be great” He responded, earning an uproar of laughter from himself.

“Fine, we’re going to right now. But you’re not coming, sir” You announced. You wrapped your fingers into Obi Wan’s hair and plant another kiss on his lips before guiding him by the hand around the corner that was unoccupied and lacking light.

Once you both had escaped the man’s presence and came around the corner, both of you broke character.

“What are we doing, y/n?” He whispered and giggled drunkenly, following you closely.

“Shh let’s just get in here” You suggested. Your mind began to wander as you contemplate whether you were ready to lose your virginity tonight. The idea both terrified and excited you simultaneously. Was this still a joke? Was it serious now? Everything was a little blurry for you at the moment.

You both scurried into the unoccupied area and you peak around one last time to make sure you weren’t followed. Once you found yourself in the quiet and darkness, all you could see was a silhouette of Obi Wan’s figure and his crystal blue eyes somehow still glistening. There was silence as you admired him in this setting.

“So…are we really gonn-” Obi Wan started to inquire.

“Oh no!” You cut him off and instantly realized how harsh your words came out of your mouth.

“Right, right. Of course, that was stupid, I shouldn’t have asked that” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, displaying his slight embarrassment for asking. You then felt heavy guilt on your shoulders for reacting in such a way. You wanted Obi Wan, more than any other man you’d known, but you were afraid of losing your innocence. Especially not when you weren’t prepared for it. It was your nerves speaking, not your true desires.

“Obi Wan…” You began. He motioned politely for you to stop explaining yourself before you even start.

“Y/n you don’t have to say anything, really” Obi Wan said apologetically.

“Let me.” You firmly demanded. “Look, Obi Wan. I know we were doing this as a joke to mess with him, but i’m a little drunk right now and I just feel like telling you this.” You fiddled with your fingers for a moment then looked at him. You weren’t sure if he could see your nervousness. “I’m a virgin” you stated suddenly and boldly, getting it out, finally.

Obi Wan looked at you for a moment and you’re almost able to read his mind through his gestures. He didn’t know what to say, that much was obvious.

“Oh. I see.” He finally broke the silence. He rubbed his beard softly. “Why haven’t you ever told me that?” He inquired, sounding offended and hurt that his very close friend never mentioned her sexual history.

“I was…ashamed…I don’t know” You weren’t sure what to say at this point. You leaned against the wall and hide your face in your hands. Truly you had no need to feel ashamed but you present yourself as such a mature woman at times, you felt a fool for admitting you had no experience in that specific department.

“Y/n, you have nothing to be ashamed about” He assured you softly and places his hand on the wall above your head. He was dangerously close to your face, you could smell the hint of liquor on his breath that was also present on yours.

“I know, I just…I want to, y’know…have sex” You continued. “but I haven’t had the opportunity with someone I really care about.” You kept your focus on the ground below you and feel Obi Wan’s hand rest on your shoulder to provide emotional support. You could tell that his offered consolation was hesitant as he grew nervous for what he’d say next.

“I care about you, darling” Obi Wan began, “and I think you’re…” He paused for a moment and audibly swallowed, “absolutely beautiful.” The last words trailed off toward the end. He was too shy to confidently express his admiration, even with his altered mind. You blushed, of course unnoticed by Obi Wan in this low lighting. “And I’m not just saying that because we’re both drunk, I really feel that way” he continued. You smiled softly and turned your attention to him. He met your eyes in the same moment, reading your mind in the same way you were able to read his before.

His hand slowly grasped your face, gently pulling you closer to him. He was trembling subtly. Your heart began to flutter as it did when you first kissed, except this time it felt deeper, and more real. His soft lips graced yours so tenderly. There was a level of passion in this kiss that you’d never felt in your life and you soaked in every bit of it. You allowed your lips to dance with his for as long as you both allowed in that moment.

You pulled away, and nervously breathed out.

“I’m glad that one was real” He chuckled.

“Me too” You agreed and leaned into his arms. “Obi Wan?” you requested his attention.

“Yeah, y/n?”

“When I decide that I’m ready, would you be my first?” You spilled out of your mouth. You feared what he might say in response.

“I’d love to, Y/n.” He flashed a friendly, comforting smile. “It would be an honor” He confirmed and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. Somehow this conversation was more heartwarming than sexual. You knew he cared about you so deeply and for you to ask him that probably made him happy knowing you trust him in that way.

“We should probably stay back here a little longer, maybe that guy will get bored and leave.” You suggested. Obi Wan nods in agreement.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it if he tries to bother you again” he firmly reassured you.

//

In the weeks that followed that unexpected night, you and Obi Wan had developed a beautiful, slow paced relationship. For a while, it was unofficial and overall, unsure. The flirting skyrocketed and the constant sexual tension grew more obvious to you with every moment you spent near each other. One night when the moons glowed brighter than usual, and everything felt right, Obi Wan told you how much he really loved you, and officially asked you to be his, making you feel complete. You two, of course, had to keep the business of your courtship a secret, considering he was a Jedi, and all. Most people assumed you were only friends, as you always had been. You were still a virgin, and Obi Wan was willing to wait as long as you needed.

“You’re worth it, y/n” he would always remind you.

You were once faced with a difficult situation regarding the secrecy of your relationship when you were approached by Mace Windu, asking for an explanation of your extended amount of time with Obi Wan. Somehow, you were able to lie to a Jedi and get away with it, but it surely was a close call. To Master Windu’s surprise, Obi Wan very sternly put him in his place about interrogating you. This put quite the strain on their relationship. But again, Obi Wan assured you,

“You’re worth it, y/n”.

This altercation forced the two of you to be more secretive in the future.

That was a week ago. Today, It was a calm, pleasant day. The sun was peeking through the infrastructure and partially shining through the balcony in Obi Wan’s room, a good indication that it was approaching dawn. Obi Wan was peacefully still snoozing off the previous night. You’d stayed the night with him unintentionally. You’d been there late, and fell asleep on his couch. He covered you in a fleece blanket and let you sleep rather than waking you and making you leave. Although the sun crept itself onto Obi Wan’s relaxed face through the wide balcony and neighboring window, he remained at rest. You sat in the chair next the bed, legs curled up, watching his chest gently rise and fall, admiring the sound of his peaceful breathing.

You studied the lining of his jaw that was speckled with thick hair, yet still so soft. His lips were ever so slightly parted. You smiled to yourself and turned your attention back to the rising sun. You became so lost in your thoughts you were slightly startled by Obi Wan’s voice.

“Good morning, love” His voice was gruff, sleepy, and so adorable. You turn around to look at his fatigued smile and head still rested on his pillow.

“Good morning, Obi Wan” You sweetly replied. “It’s a beautiful day and you’re lazy butt is just sleeping it away” you teased.

“Get over here, you” He chuckled and pulled the covers back with enough room for you to snuggle in there with him. You happily obliged.

You placed your back to his bare chest, asserting yourself as the little spoon. You’d never seem his so exposed and it made your heart flutter.

“You might feel, um-” Obi Wan began. Before he finishes his statement, you felt a bulge press against your ass. You were pleased to feel this but you assumed Obi Wan was likely embarrassed by it. “It’s uh, because I just woke up, that’s all” he tried to explain himself.

“Hush” You attempted to shut him up. You grinded your hips back into him, causing him to groan quietly. You teased him further and rotate your hips slightly. One of your favorite things to do was tease him relentlessly.

“Darling” He growled and pulled you closer into him, if that was even possible. You turned to face him, planning to act on something you’d considered for a while.

“I want you, Obi Wan” You whispered. “I want you to make love to me”. His eyes widened happily. His mind was racing and it was obvious to you. You were so nervous to even bring it up, but he was never going to be pushy about it, so you had to make the first move.

“R-right now?” He stuttered.

“Well, I mean, if that’s okay” You shyly responded. He smiled ear to ear and looks away, then back to you.

“Oh it’s more than okay, Y/n, but” Obi Wan paused and sat up in bed, “I want to get myself cleaned up for you first. It’s your first time, you deserve for it to be special”.

You melted at this gesture and felt relief knowing that he wanted to do this as well. Obi Wan ran his fingers through his messy hair then reached for your hand, pulling it to his lips and planting a kiss softly on your fingers.

“I’ve just been thinking about it a lot recently and…I know that I’m ready” You admitted.

“Tonight” He replied, “Are you okay with doing that here?” He inquired as if he was asking himself simultaneously. You nodded your head in approval to which he positively replied with a nod as well. You kissed him on closed lips quickly before rising to your feet.

“Then I will see you tonight, Master Kenobi” You smiled and exited his room slowly, closing the door behind you.

You had spent the day letting your nerves get the best of you and over thinking the endless possibilities of what could happen.

As the sun got lower, your nerves rose higher. The sun just barely crept over the horizon now. You took a sharp breath in and decided it was a good time to go to him. Your stomach was tied in knots and your legs trembled subtly with every step. You were so excited and so terrified at the same time. As you get near his quarters, you walked yourself through what was going to happen again. The door opened to reveal his robe apparel that was more formal than usual. He scanned your body and admired your flowing evening gown.

“Wow…you look…beautiful” He seemed damn near speechless. You looked normal at best, but he was still amazed at your appearance somehow.

“Thank you Obi Wan, you look very handsome yourself” You reciprocated the compliment. You kept reminding yourself to calm down and steady your hands. Just in time, too, because Obi Wan grabbed them delicately and led you into his bedroom. You were in awe of the mood he had set. The room was lit only by about 30 candles. There were rose petals that circled the bed, creating a romantic atmosphere. He turned to you, seeing the nervous smile on your face, and closed the bedroom door behind you.

“This is wonderful, Obi Wan” you express your gratitude for this preparation.

“Only the best for you, my darling” he whispered.

Obi Wan took his gentle time initiating the events to follow. He approached you hesitantly, displaying signs of anxiousness. He smiled warmly at you and minimized the distance between you two standing in the middle of his bedroom. You felt like you were awkward, not knowing what to do with your hands. He raised his palm to your flushed cheek and rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone. He leaned into you slowly, as if he’s never kissed you before, and placed his ready lips upon yours. As both your lips move gracefully together, you felt yourself begin to relax. Obi Wan repositioned his idle arm to wrap around your waist and pulled you into his warm body, leaving no space between you two. Your tongues meet, increasing the passion of the kiss. He shuffled his feet toward his bed, keeping his grip on you so that you move together. He faced your back toward the bed and lays you down gently before hovering over you, only breaking your kiss for a moment. He ensured that you were comfortable before continuing.

His hands traveled to your neck and gently caressed your collarbone. He removed his lips from yours and presses them against your open neck. You moaned so softly, having your mouth now absent of his touch. Obi Wan sprinkled kisses all over your chest above the line of your dress. It took so little from Obi Wan’s physical affection for you to become incredibly aroused. A warmth formed between your legs you were familiar with, although it was never acted upon. Your fingers fiddled with the clasps on your dress before he noticed your attempts.

“Let me, Y/N” He whispered into your ear and continued what your trembling fingers began. He first pulled your cardigan off slowly and worked on pulling your dress off your shoulder. You lifted your body and helped him slide it to your feet, leaving your body more exposed than you’d ever been in front of a man before. Your gown left no room for a bra, so with the absence of your gown, so was the exposure of your breasts. You felt so self conscious but you couldn’t let that ruin the moment. He removed his robes and under shirt before you were given a chance to assist and left his broad, hair speckled chest open to you. You traced your fingers on his chest and admired his masculine shape.

Through a few more kisses, and traveling curious hands, Obi Wan reached the hem of your panties and he flashed you a look that requested consent. You nodded in acceptance to have your body completely given to him in its most bare form. Chills shot down your body as he slowly removed them from your curves.

You were absolutely nude now and you looked away from him shyly. Obi Wan did not take notice of this and moved himself back to get a thorough look at your body. He released a low, melodic growl from his throat in appreciation for your figure. You felt another chill cascade over the surface of your skin.

“Stars, y/n, you are perfect” He praised you. You chuckle quietly and bite your lip. After his long look of appreciation, he lowers himself to lay next you, planting several more kisses on your lips. His wandering hand that wasn’t placed behind your head traveled to your thighs. He traced your folds with his middle finger and felt how achingly wet and ready you were for him.

“Oh y/n, did I do this to you?” He whispered seductively into your ear. You nodded, unable to create words. His fingers rubbed your clit delicately, finding the perfect rhythm to get you going. You began to squirm lightly under his touch and produced innocent whimpers into his ear. Obi Wan took his time with every move he made, making sure to put your pleasure first. He then slid his middle finger inside of you slowly. You gasped and it was immediately followed by a whimper. He pumped his finger in and out of you, careful to only use one to begin with. His thumb remained at your clit, still rubbing at the same pace as the thrusts of his finger.

“Yeah, that’s it. You’re doing so good sweetheart” He praised you again so tenderly, encouraging your sweet sounds of pleasure.

You moved your lips to intertwine with his while his skillful fingers do wonders to you. You make no effort to cease your moans into his mouth, it seemed to turn him on every time you did. His mouth then diverted its attention to your breasts, sucking tenderly at your nipples.

“Obi Wan” You called to him through your moans.

“What is it, darling?”

“I want to make you feel good” You pleaded.

“I have to take care of you first” He insisted. His fingers increased their pace only slightly and you begin to feel your stomach tighten gradually. Each motion of his hand felt better than the last. A sensation you had felt only in your own times of private intimacy with yourself began to grow inside of you, stronger than what you’d experienced before.

“Oh my god” You moaned deeply as a wash of ecstasy floods your body beginning at your clit and radiating throughout every inch of you. Your back arched and he placed his unoccupied hand under your arch suddenly to keep you on your high.

“Mmm, that's it, love” He moaned. Your intense whimpers faded slowly and your limbs trembled slightly.

Obi Wan then removed his fingers from your pussy slowly. He pulled his trousers off of his body for you as you floated off your high. His cock sprang free from the tight grip that once restricted it. You were in amazement at his size and couldn’t help that your jaw literally dropped. He nervously laughed at your reaction to him. You were hesitant, afraid that you weren’t sure how to handle or pleasure him the same way he was pleasuring you. You sat on your knees while Obi Wan laid flat on his back. He looked at you as if to wonder what your next move was.

You gripped your hand gently around his pulsing cock that was desperate for your attention. You parted your eager lips and moved your face toward what you held in your hand. Your lips made contact with his tip and he breathed in briefly and sharply. You lowered your mouth onto him until his dick is met with the back of your throat. Steadily, you picked up the pace and bobbed your head up and down onto his length. Obi Wan’s moans were soft and innocent to begin, but they were growing louder and more intense with your increased pace.

His fingers found their way to the back of your head and intertwine themselves in your hair. He guided your head as you move.

“Fuck” he mumbled in the most sexy way, causing you to internally melt. He doesn’t allow you to spend as much time on him as he did for you. He gently lifted you from his cock and pulled you up to his face, passionately kissing you. You instinctively placed one leg on each side of Obi Wan’s hips. You intended to lower yourself on him but he stops you suddenly by wrapping his arm tightly around you and switching places with you. It was clear that he was more focused on making this pleasurable and easy for you during your first time.

“Are you nervous?” He whispered intimately, hovering over you. His eyes were dimly illuminated by the candles filling the room, revealing only a hint of the bright blue that you knew was there. Your fingers traced his shoulder delicately, down to his arms, to his hand placed next to your head. You get so lost in his eyes, you momentarily forget he even asked you a question.

“No” you answered confidently, “I trust you”.

Obi Wan smiled at you and then diverted his attention south. He grabbed his member and lined it up carefully at your soaking wet entrance. With tremendous caution and patience for you, Obi Wan pushed his hips into you. There was a sharp discomfort inside you and you winced, noticeable to Obi Wan.

“I’ll go as slow as you need me to” he assured you, “I don’t want to hurt you”. He finally buried himself completely inside of you. You were so tight wrapped around him that he almost lost it immediately. It was such a wonderful new feeling to experience being this close to Obi Wan. Your body adjusted itself quicker than you anticipated to his size. He began to thrust slowly, still giving you time to adjust to him. A soft whimper escaped your lips, notifying Obi Wan that you were experiencing pleasure rather than pain now. Once his thrusts find perfect and steady rhythm inside you, he began to groan softly with you.

Your eyes met and locked on each other while he continued to curl his hips passionately into yours.

“Does that feel good, Y/n?” He moaned and kissed your neck gently.

“Yes, Obi Wan” You managed to mumble through your new feeling of pleasure.

Obi Wan becomes louder, his moans sounding so sweet to you. He couldn’t hide his pleasure on his face, and neither could you.

He swiftly moved your leg around him, placing his body behind yours, still deep inside you. You were both laying on your sides. He wrapped his arm around your waist in front of him to gather better leverage on fucking you deeply. There was something about this position that hit new sweet spots inside of you. You couldn’t help but let profanities fly from your mouth.

“Oh fuck, Obi Wan, yes” You breathlessly moaned. His hand moved from your waist to gently rubbing your still very sensitive clit. You twitched at this contact but he still lightly rubbed you, intensifying your pleasurable experience.

“Oh god, I’m gonna c-” you cried, unable to form the full sentence. That same euphoric feeling overcomes you again as Obi Wan continues to pound into you steadily. This time your orgasm was stronger, and you attempted to cover your mouth to muffle your sounds before Obi Wan protested.

“No, darling, I want to hear you” he purrs. You released what you tried to suppress into the air. You come down slowly from your high. He released his fingers from your clit and thrusted a little harder now.

His groans and whines were getting a little more choppy, indicating he must be close. He buried his face into your shoulder to muffle his sounds. His body tensed and he roughly gripped your hip as he reached his high.

“Y/n” He mumbled your name and growled while he released himself in your pussy, filling you.

He took a moment to recover before removing his dick from inside you. He laid flat, you do as well and move to lie against his chest. Neither of you speak for a while, and rather enjoyed the silence of being in each other’s presence. He kissed your forehead before breaking the silence.

“I love you, Y/n.” He stated suddenly. You smiled ear to ear, unable to hide how over-joyous you were to hear that. You’d heard it before, but it just felt different this time.

“I love you too, Obi Wan”

#obi wan #obi wan kenobi x reader #Obi wan x reader #Obi wan Kenobi smut #Obi wan smut #Star Wars #Obi wan x y/n #Obi wan fanfiction #rots #aotc #my work

[eternalstann]

Libido Max

Gif by: @ptrbprkrs 🎥

Tom Holland x Reader

Smutttttt ;)

Request - I just had an idea of Tom Holland where the reader took a sex pill thinking it wouldn’t last more then two hours (she was curious) but it actually ends up lasting three days so she’s really horny and can’t get enough of him, especially in quarantine. (This happened to me, but sadly no Tom)

You were out shopping for essentials, standing in line to check out. The mask was making you feel stuffy and you hated being outside period; but you and Tom were low on groceries and he went last time.

Placing the items on the conveyor belt, you let your eyes wander while you wait for the cashier to finish up with the person in front of you. Hmmm maybe you could use a pack of gum you shrug, grabbing it from the shelf. You pause though when you see what’s next to it. A little pink pill, in a small box. ‘Libido Max’ you read, picking it up in place of the gum. The best female sexual enhancement pill on the market! Take your sex life to the maximum with Libido Max! Your mind wanders, you and Tom already had great sex...but imagine what this could do! You throw the box onto the conveyor belt with the rest of your things, and new feeling of excitement washes over you.

“Tommmmm!” You sing-song, walking into the house. “In the kitchen darling!” He calls and follow his voice. He’s at the sink, washing his hands in nothing but his boxers. Damn, your man looked good. Had the pill kicked in already? You wonder, you’d only taken it maybe five minute ago when you pulled into the driveway. ‘Take with water, and allow 30 minutes for full effectiveness’ you recall the directions. “You’re back! Dinners in the oven, I was thinking we could catch up on WestWorld?” He turns to you with a smile, pecking you on the forehead as he dries his hands.

Could he get any more perfect, you swoon. Making you dinner and looking like that? Whatever you did in your past life to deserve this, shout out to the old you. “Actually Tom...” you start, trailing your fingers down his chest. “I was thinking we could do something else” you say in your most sultry voice and your boyfriend looks surprised. “We had sex this morning?” He reminds you and you giggle. “I know, I can’t want my man more than once in a day?” You pout. “Oh I’m not complaining, just surprised..” he explains stepping towards you.

“I mean what did you expect, walking around like that Tommy?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning in to kiss him. He connects your lips, tilting his head for a better angle. His soft lips move with yours, and you moan when he stick his tongue in your mouth. His tongue runs along the inside of your mouth, exploring every part before pulling back to look at you. You’re panting just from his kiss, face heated and nipples hard. Tom study’s you, and pulls off your top and bra. He bites his lip before reaching his hands up to play with your exposed breasts.

He kisses you again, massaging your tits in his hands. And when he tweaks your nipples you gasp, unable to kiss him back. Your clit is throbbing in your leggings, begging for his attention but you let him do as he pleases. He rolls your nipples between his fingers, pulling them and you can’t keep quiet. It’s like every time he touched you it only amplified the pressure building between your hips. “That feels so good Tom” you praise him as he kisses down your neck, making out with the skin there and you know he’s going to leave hickeys.

Your legs squeeze around his waist when he finds your sweet spot and Tom pinches your nipple harder. “Fuck!” You cry out, pulling at his hair. “You’re so responsive baby” he whispers, looking you in your eyes before attaching his mouth to your nipple. Your head falls back at the way his tongue flicks over your nipple, licking just right when his hand still stimulates the other one.

You’re so caught up in the pleasure you don’t even notice his other hand had dipped below the waistband of your legging until he starts rubbing your clit. Your whole body jerks and your toes curl at the right circles he draws on your pussy. “Y/N you’re fucking soaked” he groans, switching breasts and sucking on the other tight bud. His fingers apply more pressure, and your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly you’re not sure if you or Tom are more surprised.

“Oh my God” you breathe out, waiting for Tom to pull his hand out of your pants...but he doesn’t. He stands so your eye level when he pushes his fingers inside of you, and you have to grab onto his shoulder so you don’t tip off the countertop. “Tom!” You cry out, your whole body vibrating with pleasure. “I’m not done with you” he whispers, curling his fingers and speeding up. His palm smacks your clit with every movement and your eyes roll back at the over stimulation. “I’m gonna cum again...” you whimper, feeling that knot in your stomach grow tight. “Cum on my fucking fingers baby” he growls, wrapping his free hand around the back of your neck and pulling your face closer to his. “Cum Y/N” he encourages and your eyes squeeze shut as you release around his fingers. You collapse into him, your legging absolutely drenched and Tom finally pulls his hand out of them. He grabs your hands and guides it to his hard dick, letting you rub it through his boxers.

“Can you still take me baby?” He asks, voice hoarse with sex and you nod wearily. “Good girl” he smiles, setting you down on the ground. He turns you around, pushing your flat against the counter, and you whine at the cold surface against your flushed chest. Tom pulls down your leggings, helping you step out of the offending material. “You look so good like this...so ready for me” Tom coos, landing a hard smack on your ass. His hands grip your hips, feet kicking your ankles a little further apart. “I love you” he whispers leaning over you to press a kiss to your shoulder and then he pushing his dick inside of you. “Jesus fuck, Y/N” he moans, hands kneading your ass. Your legs shake at the intrusion. “I love this pussy” he hums, giving you a sharp thrust and your eyes roll back.

He builds a rhythm, fucking you hard and quick. You chant his name, hands trying to grab onto something. One of his hands grabs your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you into him even harder. Everything about the way he was fucking you made you dizzy. “I love you baby” you cry, over and over as you come on his cock. He grunts, pulling out slowly when he reaches his own high.

“That was amazing my love” he laughs, carrying you into the living room and setting you on couch. “Mhmmm” you respond, in a daze just enjoying the buzzing sensation that encompassed your body. Tom cuddles up next to you, naked bodies pressed against one another. All it takes is five minutes and his hand brushing your thigh for you to feel the slow burn building in your stomach again.

You slither out of his grasp and sink to the floor in front of him, between his legs. Tom looks at you incredulously, “Y/N!” He exclaims when you start pumping his cock, eyes hooded. “What’s got you so worked up?” He asks, and you giggle breathily. “I might’ve taken a little pill...” you admit sheepishly and Tom chuckles. “Fuck, baby, every day I love you more” he shakes his head and you smile before taking him in your mouth. “Shit!” He shouts, throwing an arm over his face and letting his head fall backwards.

You take him as far as you can down your throat, not bothering to tease him. You let your tongue run down the underside of his shaft, and take his balls in your hand to massage them. You smirk noticing the way his thighs tense with every bob of your head. You suck him faster, and look up at him. He’s looking down at you now, mouth parted in a small ‘o’. You hum around his length and he swears, pulling you up by your arms until you’re seated on his lap.

“I wanted you to cum in my mouth” you whine and Tom kisses you. “Yeah, well I wanna cum in your pussy” he whispers, gripping your hips so he can rub against you. “Please baby...” you beg, letting your own hands play with your breast, and Tom leans back to watch you. “If you wanna cum you gotta work for it baby” he drawls and your groin coils at his words. “Okay...” whisper, lifting and lining yourself up with his length. You sit down on him slowly, watching the way his face changed as you slid down.

“Fuck yourself on my cock Y/N” he demands, running his hands up your body and you comply, rocking your hips into his. You moan, his dick spearing right into your g-spot from this angle. You grind against him, back arched and mouth open. You ride him slowly, enjoying the way he filled you. The way he looked beneath you and the noises he made. “Tommmm” you groan, leaning forward as your orgasm approached. “You close babe?” He asks planting his feet on the floor and you nod. Before your head even stills he’s lifting his hips and pounding into you from below.

You slap his chest, and let your nails rake across his skin as you orgasm for the fourth time. You’re screaming so loud you know the neighbors can hear but you don’t care. Tom buries himself deep inside of you as he cums, and pulls you closer.

“So when do you wanna get married and should we invite the inventor of Libido Max?”

———————————-

okay I know you said three days of sex but I hope this satisfies you :))) love you all ❤️

#tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom smut #tom holland preference #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #peter parker #spiderman

[thecrazzykidzz]

You had me, Now You Lost Me.

A little of a Klaus Mikealson x Reader then Elijah Mikealson x reader.

Fluffy moments with Elijah, a lot of angst with niklaus!

(Not my gif)

T:w, toxic, mentally abusive, name calling, swearing, fighting.

———————————————————————

“Don’t you get it! I’ve never bloody loved you!” Klaus’s voice shook the compound.

“What so you play girls along and then have sex with them to ditch them!” I screamed back tears flooding into my eyes.

“Yes!” Klaus yelled.

My mouth opened but no words could come out. “Okay then we’re down” I whispered walking towards the door.

“There was never an we’re” Klaus mumbled my vampire hearing picked it up. It took every nerve in my body not to cry.

I vamp sped over to my best friends room, Elijah Mikealson.

As soon as the noble original opened the door I ran into his chest. Sobbing into his dress shit.

Elijah pulled me inside and sat us on his bed. My body shook as the sobs left my body.

“It’s okay princess I’ve got you” Elijah cooed brushes my hair and rubbing my back. I’ve always felt safe in Elijah’s arms.

“Whenever you’re ready I would love to take you on a date” elijah whispered.

I sat up surprised at his words.

“I’m sorry if I’m being to forward” Elijah said softly brushing tears off of my red cheeks.

“I’ve loved you since forever, and now that klaus has finally revealed his true self I must act on it” Elijah said smiling timidly.

“I’d love you E” I said wrapping my arms around his neck hugging him.

———————————————————————

6 months later Elijah and I were a happy couple. He treated me like a queen.

He brought me home yellow roses everyday, since he knew they were my favorite.

He would bring me home beautifully hand made jewelry.

He loves me like a real man should, and I love him more then anything in this world.

———————————————————————

“Neeklaus” Elijah said from my door.

“Yes brother” I mumbled finishing up a painting.

“I’m going to ask Y/N to marry me” Elijah said smiling brightly.

My heart sunk to my chest. My brother was going to marry the girl I’ve been in love with just as long as he has.

she deserves it, I broke her heart, dragged her on for years refusing to admit my feelings back for her. In a way I deserve this.

“Well congratulations” I said not looking up from my painting.

“I want you to be my best man brother” Elijah said stepping inside my bedroom.

“I’d be honored” I lied turning around giving him a smile.

I wanted Elijah to be my best man and I to be the groom. It could’ve happened but I ruined it, like I ruin everything.

———————————————————————

“Do you remember this tree?” Elijah said running towards a huge oak tree.

“No.. Yes! It’s our tree!” I squealed running around to see our names from when we met In New Orleans all those years ago.

“Elijah + Y/N 4 ever” I read it out loud as my hand brushed over the letters carved into the tree.

“You were my best friend back then still are” Elijah said smiling at me.

“As you were and are mine” I replied my smile huge looking at the giant oak.

“Funny how long it’s been since then” I rambled not noticing Elijah dropping to one knee.

When he didn’t answer I turned around.

My hands shot up to my mouth covering it as tears flooded into my eyes.

“Y/n y/l/n, I love you so much, a thousand years on this earth, and you are the only one that could show me what love is. I want my eternity with you, and our little adopted kids if you want them. Will you make me the happiest vampire alive, and marry me?” Elijah said tears forming in his eyes.

I took a deep breath in and smiled. Tears flooding down my cheeks. “You fool! Of course I’ll marry you!” I yelled

Elijah got back on his feet and slid the big diamond ring over my ring finger. My arms quickly wrapped around his neck and his wrapped around my waist.

We kissed for what felt like hours cherishing this moment, forever.

———————————————————————-

The big day I was dreading.

The day the love of my life, marries my older brother.

A part of me wanted her to say no, but I knew she was going to say yes she loved him. It was puppy love for me she has said time and time again to me.

Elijah in his suit practicing his vows. Pacing back and fourth nervously.

“Calm down brother” Kol said laughing at Elijah.

“Kol I’m getting married” Elijah said tensed.

“Just a normal day” I said

“The more important day of my life” Elijah said continuing to pace around.

“She loves you, you could be wearing sandals and she would still marry you” Kol added.

“What in the bloody hell are sandals?” Elijah asked

Causing the three brothers to laugh.

———————————————————————

“You look beautiful y/n/n” Bex said as we stared in the big mirror in my wedding dress. “I’m nervous bex” I whispered fiddling with my bracelets.

“Hey you are going to be a Mikealson, and you better do this because I need you to be my sister” bex said laughing. I joined her laughing.

Freya came in the door. “You look wonderful y/n!” she said smiling brightly. “Thank you Freya” I said smiling my nerves settling.

I was marrying my best friend it was all good and great.

“Are you ready to go” Kol asked walking in. He looked at me and his jaw dropped.

“My my y/n why don’t you run away with me and we go get married” Kol said smirking.

“you do look great in your tux Kol, but your just a little bit to much for me” I said laughing.

“Okay okay well I’m walking you down the isle sister” Kol said holding his arm out for me.

I quickly looped my arm through his.

Freya and Bex walked down first.

“Are you ready, sister” Kol whispered.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, brother” I whispered back.

Kol smiled and we began to walk.

When we got to the isle and Elijah saw me his eyes lit up his smile brightening causing mine to glow up.

All the butterflies in my stomach flew away when I saw the look on my fiancé’s face. When we got to where Elijah was Kol kissed me on my cheek.

“She’s a keeper” Kol said to Elijah

“I know” Elijah replied holding my hands.

Klaus’s face showed nothing but pain. My heart hurt for him. Why did he care he never loved me. I could tell by his watery eyes he was fighting tears as he stared at me and he knew I knew.

Y/n stop thinking about niklaus you love Elijah.

———————————————————————

Part 2?

Also what endgame I kinda want to make niklaus endgame?? Hahaha

#fanfic #elijah x reader #klaus mikealson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #rebekah mikealson #kol mikaelson #freya mikaelson #angst #fluff #marriage

[watermelonlipstick]

Surprise

Everyone was so nice about my first Dean fic, here’s a Sam one! Again, thanks in advance for any critiques or advice!!

Title: Surprise

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4904

Summary: Mostly fluffy, a little smut, some angst when the reader realizes she’s late.  

Warnings: One smutty bit--separated by spacing, some light swearing, oblique mention of abortion, pregnancy

gif by study-of-supernatural

           Dean tossed his phone onto the car seat next to him. “That thing in Cleveland sounds like vamps for sure. So we’ll just drop you off at the bunker on the way.”

           You looked quizzically at him in the rearview mirror. “Drop me off? No, I want to come.”

           Dean flicked his eyes up to the mirror to make eye contact. “Well you obviously can’t go hunt vampires right now, so, sorry.” He turned the key in the ignition and threw the Impala in reverse. Before he could back out of the parking lot, Sam stopped him.

           “Dude, what? She’s hunted vampires with us dozens of times.”

           “I’m not taking you to a vampire nest when you’re, you know, parting the red seas,” Dean addressed his response to you in the rearview mirror rather than Sam. “Too dangerous.”

           “Oh my god,” you said under your breath, stunned. “You did not just say that.”

           Sam’s eyebrows had shot up to his hairline, his lips parted while he tried to find something to say. Dean looked over at him in an exaggerated “what?” grimace.

           “Dean, it is so fucking weird for you to know that,” Sam insisted.

           “No it’s not, she was talking about cramps when we were at Jody’s a few months ago, it’s not that hard to keep track of 4 week chunks,” Dean tried to justify.

           “We are not talking about this, Jesus Christ!” you snapped, startling both brothers. They turned in their seats to look back at you. “And Dean, not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I am not on my period.”

           “Wait, yeah you are,” he started, ignoring your glare and the awkward tension building in the car. “We were in Sioux Falls for fourth of July on a Wednesday, then that would mean 4 weeks later was the witch in Nebraska, and two days ago was Wednesday. So that’s another 4 weeks,”

           “Dean!” Sam interrupted, his hands thrown up in frustration. “What the hell?!”

           “Again, and I don’t know how much more I can emphasize this, it’s none of your concern at all, but I’m not on my period and I will be coming to Cleveland,” you responded, leaning back in your seat to indicate that you would not be discussing the matter further. Dean sat for a moment before rolling his eyes and backing up out of the parking lot, seemingly having given in.

           After a few moments, the implications of Dean’s too-keen observation started to sink in. You had been on your period at Jody’s, because you remembered being thankful that you weren’t in a grown-up magical frat house and rather a normal home with some other women for it. Normally you loved living with Sam and Dean, but there was a certain kind of comfort and camaraderie that only other people with periods understood. And his math was right, that would’ve been 8 weeks two days ago. Had you been on your period during the witch hunt in Nebraska? Dammit, you couldn’t remember at all. As you often did when surprised with it during a job, you cursed the fact that you weren’t the kind of person who wrote something down on a calendar about your cycle.

           You shifted in your seat, trying to calculate. Fuck. Why couldn’t you remember if you were on your period in Nebraska? 2 days late wasn’t that big of a deal, but if you were a month late… You watched Sam try to rub some tension out of his neck absentmindedly. Was he wondering the same thing you were?

           This was not the time to be worried about it. You couldn’t figure out anything either way in the car—what were you going to do anyway, count the number of extra tampons you had in your bag?—and relatively soon you’d be in Cleveland. There would be opportunities to talk to Sam alone, to get to a drugstore, to figure this out. You took some deep, deliberate breaths. By your estimation, it would take about 7 hours to get to Cleveland. Curling up in the darkness of the backseat, you dozed fitfully until Dean woke you up to grab some food. Stressed but knowing that the boys would notice if you didn’t eat, you forced down the better part of a buffalo chicken sandwich and gratefully relinquished your fries to Dean. You couldn’t tell if Sam seemed nervous or just tired through dinner and knew better than to ask in front of Dean.

           When you got back in the car, you offered Sam the backseat so he could stretch out and sleep. Singing along to Creedence Clearwater Revival with Dean helped take your mind off of the racing questions until finally the Impala pulled into a motel outside Cleveland. You grabbed a top sheet and pillow off of one bed to put on the couch as you usually did on the road with Sam and Dean, and were asleep by the time you slipped your boots off under the plasticized coffee table.

           The next morning, you carefully slid Dean’s keys out of his jacket as it hung on a chair. Your hope was to be back before either of them woke up, and you knew you were pushing it. Sam and Dean had been asleep for a little under 4 hours, and you knew it would be miraculous if they stayed down for a 5 hour stretch. Gently catching the door behind you, you didn’t hear any movement on the other side and hoped for the best.

           The first drugstore you found was a little mom-and-pop establishment with a very sweet looking woman in her mid 60’s behind the counter. She was eating what looked like a cruller and drinking coffee from a steaming ceramic mug while reading a magazine. You congratulated yourself silently for brushing your hair to look more presentable to her as you pushed three pregnancy tests across the counter. She brushed off her hands on a small white apron tied around her waist and smiled warmly as she rang up the tests.

           “Sweetie, do you want a bag for these?” she asked.

           “No, I, uh,” you stammered, realizing you were more nervous than you had convinced yourself you were on last night’s drive. She softly touched the back of your hand on the pregnancy tests and pointed down a little side hall next to the counter.

           “Bathroom’s on the right,” she offered graciously. You nodded, taking the tests with you as you followed her directions. Unbuckling your jeans, you almost thought “I can’t remember the last time I took my pants off this fast,” chuckling aloud when you realized you absolutely could remember the last time your pants were taken off this fast. God, how stupid could you both have been? If your gut was right, that you had skipped your period in Nebraska, it meant your slipup with Sam at that bar in Montana was the likely culprit. Normally so careful both about making sure Dean wasn’t around to find out as well as protection, you were playing with fire that night. You had been stealing sultry glances at Sam for hours as Dean ripped through shots. Dean had found some bikers to play pool with, and you’d been brushing against Sam for longer than you needed to every time you snuck by the table for another round. The guys were fun and loud, and made the three of you feel at home. Dean was in the middle of being convinced to sing karaoke when you reapplied your lip gloss slowly with Sam’s eyes on you, and Dean was too caught up with the start of both another round of whiskey and a new game when you had told Sam you were headed to the powder room.  

           He had given you about a 2 minute head start before slamming open the door of the bathroom, crashing into you as a long arm cracked the lock into place. Sam, normally sweet and gentle Sam, had reacted to your teasing him all night exactly the way you wanted to, the heat and urgency and need searing through him as he tore at your belt buckle and you at his. He gathered a handful of hair at the base of your neck as he kissed you deeply and nipped at your bottom lip. You groaned as he moved down your neck, his hot breath sending electrifying chills down your spine. Suddenly his other hand was under your thigh, and he pulled you up to sit atop the old porcelain sink. Your jeans held on to your right leg for dear life as you tried to yank free of them, ultimately getting only your left out before Sam’s impatience got the better of him and he left your mouth to drag his tongue, long and languid, across your clit. When you gasped, he pulled firmly on the handful of hair he still had, arching your back into the mirror behind you.

           You hadn’t even thought for a split second of the consequences when you had pulled him into you on that sink. All that had mattered for those fervent salty minutes was the rhythm of Sam pounding you into the bathroom wall, hearing the creak of the sink ache underneath you, feeling the throbbing of yourself around him, the shiver you felt in his arms when you licked at his neck and earlobes. When he finished, sticky and hot on your stomach and inner thigh, you had cleaned up as fast as you could before getting your clothes back on, checking both of yourselves in the mirror for evidence before leaving one at a time to rejoin Dean and your new friends. You remembered the way you had ached so good in the days following, the way Sam blushed the next day when you winked at him over pancakes.

           In a way it felt poetic, to be once again in a strange bathroom. You lined up the tests next to the sink as you washed your hands, begging for time to move more quickly. One by one their results developed in cloudy blue words.

                                                  Pregnant

           Fuck.

           By the grace of God, Sam and Dean appeared to still be asleep by the time you got back to the motel room. You slipped Dean’s keys back into his jacket pocket and took off your boots, lying back down on the couch to pantomime sleep as you tried to figure out your next move. Sam roused first, and you jumped on the opportunity to talk before he got to the shower, startling him as he walked by the couch to get to the bathroom.

           “Sam, can I talk to you?” you whispered.

           He jolted before closing his eyes hard. “Yeah, of course. Sorry, you scared me,” he responded, his voice rough with sleep. “Two seconds, ok?”

           “Yeah sure. I’ll be outside,” you said, shoving your feet into your boots and heading for the small cast iron bench outside the motel room. Sam came out a few minutes later, smelling of toothpaste and looking like he had raked his fingers through the worst of his bedhead tangles. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in.

           “What’s going on?” He looked concerned, and you realized you probably weren’t keeping the worry off of your face as well as you would’ve hoped.

           You took another deep breath, trying to keep your voice level as you responded. “So, Dean being a creep yesterday got me nervous, because I think he might be right,” you started. Sam’s earnest eyes encouraged you to keep going. “In that I’m supposed to be on my period right now. And I should’ve been on my period in Nebraska. But I’m not now, and I wasn’t—” Sam finally made the realization you were leading him to, his eyes widening as he held your gaze. “—in Nebraska, so I took a test, really three tests, and I think I’m pregnant,” you finished, the words tumbling out of your mouth like an avalanche furtively mumbled outside the Ohio hotel room. “And I, uh, you’re obviously the only person I’ve been with, so I thought you should know.”

           Your voice cracked on the last words, and you bit your lip to hold back the involuntary tears. Sam took your shoulders in each hand and looked into your eyes. “Hey. Hey, okay, look at me. Everything’s okay.” He pulled you into a firm hug, his ropey muscles around your shoulders and back feeling like an anchor in a storm. You stayed like that for a few minutes, trying to breathe smoothly around the lump in your throat threatening to burst while Sam gripped you tightly. When you shifted your weight, he let go and left a stabilizing hand on your lower back for a moment. You and Sam sat on the bench side by side staring out at the half-full parking lot in the morning dew.

           Sam cleared his throat. “What do you want to do?” he asked softly. You were worried if you looked at him you’d start crying, so you kept your eyes locked on the asphalt.

           “I don’t know, I guess. Hadn’t really thought that far,” you said honestly. “I mean, how many pregnant hunters do you know?” You finally looked over at Sam when he didn’t respond. His brows were knitted together as he looked at his hands in his lap.

           “Not very many, I guess,” he mumbled, barely audible. He straightened his spine and set his jaw. “If that’s what you want to do, I totally get it. I’m here no matter what you decide.”

           “Well, what would you do?”

           “It’s not my call.”

           “Sam, I’m asking because I want to know. What would you decide?”

           “I’d give it a shot,” he said, firmly but quietly. “I think we could do it.”

           You let his answer hang in the air for a moment. “Are you sure?”

           Sam chuckled, looking back down at his hands before meeting your eyes. “Pretty sure.” He smiled, a small and self-conscious smile that made him look more unsure of himself than you’d ever seen him. When you smiled back at him, a tear slipped past your eyelashes. You wiped it away furtively as you began to laugh. Then Sam was laughing with you, his own eyes wet and bright. For the first time since you were in the car yesterday, you didn’t feel like you were racing and clawing to stay afloat. It felt like maybe things would be okay.

           You heard a creak and saw Dean’s head poking out of the motel door. His hair was unkempt and the neck of his t-shirt was stretched out; he’d clearly just woken up. He squinted a puffy eye at you both. “What’re you guys doing out here?”

           You gasped for breath in between your hysterical giggling. “I’m pregnant,” you managed to squeak out.

           Dean’s head kicked back into his neck as he opened his eyes wide. “This feels like a conversation I should have pants on for.”

           “So you’ve got a bun in the oven,” Dean said, pouring syrup over a short stack at a nearby diner. “Is this a moment for congratulations?” He squinted at you, carefully trying to keep his expression neutral.

           “Um, yeah, I think so,” you said shyly. Eggs had seemed like a good idea when the waitress came over, but now the idea of putting them in your mouth was too much. Dean seemed to read your mind, rolling his eyes and forking a pancake onto your plate.

           “Who’s the baby daddy? Should I be calling Springer?” Dean smiled slyly. Sam was notably quiet, looking down at his omelet like it had all the secrets of the Rosetta Stone.

           “Shut up,” you said, grimacing at him. “Between the two of us, I think you know who should be more scared about a random baby coming into the picture.”

            “Fair enough, I yield,” Dean chuckled. “Seriously though, who’s big papa?” Dean took a comically large bite of sausage, and you waited a beat to make sure he wasn’t about to choke.

           “Sam.”

           Dean coughed and sputtered around the bite of sausage, snatching his coffee to help him swallow. He bared his teeth when he realized how hot it was and pounded a closed fist on his chest. “Good one, jackass. Seriously, who is it? Maybe that detective from Sioux Falls who’s always getting you coffee cake when we’re there?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

           You shot a look over to Sam, who clenched and unclenched his jaw before looking up at Dean. As was often true, they were communicating with their eyes in a way you couldn’t understand. Sam raised his eyebrows slightly, and Dean closed his eyes very deliberately before putting his fork down and steepling his fingers on the table. “You guys have got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered under his breath. He opened his eyes after a long moment and sucked on his teeth. “Start talking,” he growled.

           “We’ve been, you know, uh, spending a lot of time together—” Sam started before Dean waved a dismissive hand in the air.

           “How long?” Dean asked, still steely.

           Sam gulped hard and pursed his lips. “Like 7, 8 months?” He looked to you for confirmation and you nodded slightly.  

           Dean’s nostrils flared and he bit his bottom lip. “Eight goddamn months, Sam? Are you kidding me?” You tried to meet Sam’s eyes but he was avoiding Dean by looking out the diner window. “Sam!” Dean barked. You watched an older woman a few tables away look over at your table and threw a weak wave her way to apologize for the noise.

           Sam finally turned to look at Dean. “Dean, I don’t know what you want me to say. Yes, eight months. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, it just didn’t seem like the right time and then a lot of time had passed, and—”

           “—it didn’t change anything so there wasn’t really any point to talking about it,” you finished. Sam gave you a tight smile to indicate his thanks.

           Dean looked from you to Sam and back before picking his fork back up and stabbing another piece of sausage a little harder than necessary. The fork scraped against the plate unpleasantly. He raised it to his mouth before reconsidering, letting it clatter to the plate. “Sam, I asked you like five times if there was something going on and you said no every single time. What the hell, man?”

           You leaned back in the booth and watched as Sam chewed his lip nervously. On some level, you were glad it seemed like Dean wasn’t as mad at you as Sam, but you felt guilty both for not having told Dean and that Sam was incurring his wrath alone. Sam let his head loll back on his neck.

           “Well?” Dean repeated. You could sense now the note of sadness in his voice peeking out between the waves of anger. Sam still didn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

           “I, uh, I don’t know,” he finally answered softly.

           After a long stare, Dean finally went back to eating. You and Sam followed, and the three of you ate silently for a few minutes.

           “You’re keeping it, then?” Dean asked, his voice low and raspy as he kept eating.

           You finished your bite and took a sip of orange juice before answering, hoping this meant Dean had processed some of his anger. “I think so. I just found out this morning so it’s all happening kind of fast. Sam said he wants to try.” A smile crept onto your face involuntarily as you looked over at him.

           “You cannot just try with a fucking kid, did you two get dropped on your heads? You’re going to what, put a play pen in the dungeon of the bunker we live in? Do you hear yourselves?”

           You winced. “Dean, I don’t know, okay? You’re right. I don’t know. I don’t think Sam does either. I’m just trying really hard not to freak the fuck out right now, and I gotta be honest: you’re not helping.” You reached out to squeeze his hand. Dean allowed it but didn’t squeeze back. “Please. I don’t know what to do.”

           Dean’s face fell and he rubbed a quick circle in the back of your hand before pulling away to stroke his face. He looked so tired suddenly. “Are you guys leaving now then?”

           Your eyebrows and Sam’s communicated your confusion. “No one’s leaving. There’s still a job here, regardless of whatever soap opera bullshit we have going on,” you said.

           “Get real, like either of us is going to be able to focus on a hunt if we know you’re cracking necks pregnant.” Dean scoffed.

           “Okay, then she can stay in the motel and we can talk about this more back at the bunker,” Sam offered, ever the peacemaker. You glared at him but he specifically avoided meeting your gaze, knowing you’d be frustrated at this plan.

           “I’m done talking about this right now,” Dean said abruptly, yanking his wallet out of his pocket and throwing far more money on the table than the bill would’ve cost. He started toward the door, leaving you and Sam to run after him or risk being left.

           The car ride was silent and tense. When you got back to the motel, Sam and Dean stayed in the car as you got out alone.

           “We’ll probably only be a couple hours, just to the morgue and back. See you soon?” Sam asked.

           “Not really a ton of places I could go with no car,” you responded.

           “I’m sure you could figure something out,” Sam chuckled. You saw Dean’s hand tighten on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

           “Dean, is your suit in the trunk or do you want me to grab it?” you asked, trying to offer an olive branch.

           “Trunk,” he said curtly. Sam made an apologetic face and waved as they pulled away.

           With the motel in the rearview mirror, Dean’s fist shot out to dead-arm Sam. “Are you fucking stupid? You’re so fucking stupid!” he grunted in between punches.

           Sam tried his best to block Dean, very aware of the road in front of them. “Dean. DEAN! Stop hitting me, alright? Jesus Christ, I get it!” Dean finally stopped and Sam rubbed his sore arm. “God, Dean, I’m sorry, ok? I should’ve been more careful and I should’ve told you.”

           “God, Sam, what were you thinking?” Dean slammed a palm into the steering wheel. “I mean, this has got to be your last job then,” he said, resolute.

           “What? No! I can still be a hunter if she’s pregnant. Plenty of hunters have kids,” Sam snapped.

           “Yeah, like Dad? Jo’s dad? How’d that work out for them? Wake up, Sam. At best you leave her alone raising a kid with no dad, and at worst they both get killed from some crap you get caught up in. If you go straight, get a day job, some house somewhere, maybe you have a shot at keeping everyone alive.”

           “She’s a hunter too, she knows how hard it’s going to be, okay? We’re going to figure it out,” Sam answered.

           “Yeah, you both keep saying that, don’t you? So start figuring it out then, dumbass. Tell me your groundbreaking plan to keep a target on your ass ganking demons and monsters with a baby Björn on.” He looked at Sam condescendingly. “I’m listening, Sammy. Turn on that genius brain of yours and lay it on me.”

           “Enough.” Sam said firmly. “What do you want me to do then, Dean? I can’t exactly take it back, and it’s not like I could force her to do anything even if I wanted to, so tell me what you think I should do!” Sam’s voice rose, the fear coming to the surface.

           The tension hung in the air like a curtain for a long minute.

           Finally, Dean slammed the steering wheel again. “Son of a bitch,” he said emphatically. “Okay. You’re right. We’ve got to figure out what you’re going to do.” He took a deep breath and pushed it out forcefully.

           Sam’s shoulders relaxed noticeably at Dean’s change in tone. “Thank you,” he said in a low voice.

           “Man, eight months? I must be pretty stupid,” Dean laughed, still somewhat angrily.

           Sam realized Dean was trying to lighten the mood and decided to let him have it, despite his bruised feelings. “There were a few times when I thought for sure you knew, to be honest.”

           “Oh yeah? Like when?”

           “Remember when, ah, you came home early from that Die Hard thing?”

           “Drive in double feature that got rained out, hell yeah. I was pissed.”

           “And when you got back to the bunker the kitchen was a mess and she said she was making like, cupcakes or something?”

           Dean’s eyes widened. “Dude, the kitchen? You’re a dog.” He smiled slyly at Sam, who laughed. The mood in the car was lifting like a low cloud after a bit of afternoon sun, and both of them relaxed into themselves for a few minutes of road.

           Dean cleared his throat. “Do you love her?”

           Sam turned to Dean, locking him in his gaze. “I do, yeah,” he said, softly and earnestly.

           Dean thumped a big hand on Sam’s back. “Then congrats, baby bro. Look at you, all grown up. If I’m being honest, I thought I was going to be the one who finally got the girl.”

           “Wait, Dean, if you have feelings for h—” Sam started.

           “No, nah, not now. It’s been years, she’s like a sister to me. Yesterday I would’ve said she’s like a sister to us,” Dean chuckled. “But she’s obviously a gorgeous girl, tough, smart like that? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it when she first started staying with us.” He squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “She’s going to be a good mom, Sammy.”

           “I think so too.”

           In the motel room, you tried hard to focus on whatever Alaskan logging show was on but failed. Dean was right, this whole situation was overwhelming. The moments of hope you had sitting on that bench with Sam seemed lightyears away.

           A few hours later the boys finally walked through the motel door in their suits. Their expressions were unreadable, and Dean had a paper bag presumably of evidence in his hand that he set down on the small kitchenette table. Sam walked over to a bed, loosening his tie and taking off his jacket as he went. Dean mirrored the motion as he sat down at the table. It was always obvious they were brothers, but these small moments of such strong resemblance tickled you, even despite the circumstances.

           “How’d it go?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light as to not reveal the time you’d spent pacing and panicking while they were gone.

           “Seems pretty open and shut, we’re going to hit them tomorrow morning. Apparently they usually close down the tiki bar and then crash for a few hours before hitting the third shifter joints,” Sam said calmly, patting the bed next to him for you to sit down. You complied.

           “You deserve an apology,” Dean began. You tried to keep the surprise off your face so as not to discourage him from continuing. “I wouldn’t have lied about it for the better part of a damn year, but if you guys are happy and everything, I can hardly judge about a slip up. Mistakes happen.” He let out a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. “So, I’m sorry. And I know normally you’d like a nice peaty Irish whiskey, but I figured under the circumstances this was more appropriate,” Dean reached into the paper bag on the table and pulled out a fluffy white cake with big pink, blue, and yellow frosting roses. In graceful, elegant script along the top, it said, 

                                   “Sorry Sam didn’t pull out!”

           You blushed and laughed out loud, reaching over to lightly slap Dean’s arm. “How much did you have to pay them to put that on it?”

           “Oh, they do the writing for free,” he grinned devilishly. “Want a slice?”

           “Sure,” you said, thinking a piece of cake at 10 am couldn’t be any weirder than this day already was. Dean got up to look through the cabinets for the cheap silverware and Corelle plates that seemed standard issue for motels like this.

           You turned to Sam. “What’re we going to do? I mean, it’s not like we can take a baby with us on the road, no offense, and to be honest I don’t know that I want to stop living this life. And I definitely don’t want to leave Dean, or the bunker, or—” Sam stopped you by lacing his fingers through yours.

           “We’ve figured out way more complicated problems than this. We’re going to make it work. If that means babyproofing the bunker or living in a duplex with Dean or driving around the country in a big RV, then that’s what we’ll do. Believe me, I’m scared as hell too. But there is no one I would rather bring someone into this world with. I love you.”

           “Thanks, Bridget Jones’ Diary,” Dean said, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes while you rubbed the beginnings of tears out of yours. “Sam, how big do you want your piece?”  

-

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass​

#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester #spn fanfiction #spn oneshot #spn fluff #spn fic #sam winchester one shot #spn reader insert #sam fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fluff #reader insert

[harrytpotter]

RIGHT PLACE, WRONG TIME — Part IV

Plot: Y/N finds herself trapped in a time in which she doesn’t belong only to learn that maybe that was her place all along.

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slightly sexual scene with mild cursing.

A/N: Gif isn’t mine (took it from google, so please, if it belongs to you let me know so I can credit) and since my mother language isn’t English, I apologize for any mistakes in advance! :)

As the weeks went by and you still haven’t heard back from Dumbledore, you did your best to avoid James. You hardly even saw him and when you did, you barely spoke two words with him. You knew he had asked Lily why you were shutting him down because she told you and did ask that herself. You couldn’t exactly explain the reason why it was better for everyone and why it was the right thing to do, so you started shutting her and all of your friends down as well. Not as hard and as completely as you did with James, though. You were growing more miserable and lonely every day, wishing you could just go back to the future time where life was way more gentle and kind at you. It was the fourth night in a row that you had purposely skipped dinner to avoid seeing James. You were at Hagrid’s cabin, paying a visit to your dear friend and trying to cheer yourself up a bit.

“Yeh sure yeh don’ wanna eat anythin’, uh Y/N?!” Hagrid offers you a plate full of homemade cookies.

“I’m still stuffed from lunch, but thanks Hagrid!” You politely decline his offer, a warm smile on your face. Hagrid excelled in many things, but cooking wasn’t one of them.

“Alright, then! So yeh gonna tell me why yeh look so bummed?” He shoots a concerned glare at you.

“Just stressed out with school stuff, no biggie,” you smile reassuringly at him.

“James was just here the other day an’ he didn’ look quite alright ‘imself as well,” he shrugs.

“School is particularly hard this year I suppose,” you frown, getting up. “I should probably go, it’s getting quite late. See you, Hagrid!” You hug him goodbye.

Despite clearly having more to say about the previous subject, he hugs you back, leaving you breathless for a while given the strength he put into it. “Take care, Y/N!”

On your way back to the castle, you decide to make a little detour to the kitchen so you could help yourself of some leftovers from dinner.

“You’re one hard woman to track, love,” James’ voice startled you in the middle of a pitch-dark hallway.

“Merlin’s beard, James! Do you always have to sneak up on me like that?!” You whisper, taking your hand to your pounding heart.

The moonlight suddenly flooded through the windows, as the moon came out from behind a particularly massive cloud, and you saw a piece of paper clutched on James’ hand.

“I thought you had swore you’d never use that to keep tabs on me,” you point at the marauder’s map with your head.

James sighs heavily. “I know, but that was before you shut me down completely out of your life for no good reason. You’ve been even distancing yourself from Lily, Marlene, Sirius, Remus, everyone, Y/N! I’m worried about you. We all are. What’s going on with you, babe?” He cupped your face with his free hand and stared worryingly into your eyes, frowning. You could tell his mind was racing, trying to figure out what could possibly had happened to you.

You look away from his gaze and close your eyes, trying to come up with an excuse. Despite the little moment you two had shared in the astronomy tower, none of you had exactly being vocal about your feelings.

“You know what? We should make a trip to the kitchen and steal some chocolate pudding, what do you think? I bet some sugar in your system will make everything better!” He smiled brightly at you, starting a warm wave inside your chest.

“I believe it’s worth a try,” you smile sweetly back at him, unable to turn his puppy eyes down and doing your best to ignore the annoying butterflies in your stomach. You see, that’s the problem of finally admitting your feelings to yourself after keeping them hidden for so long: despite your best efforts to brush them off and hide them again, your body keeps giving you constant and awfully vivid reminders that they’re there.

***

The house-elves were happy to give you some snacks and sweets as the two of you entered the kitchen. You and James sat next to each other on the big island that laid in the middle of the room, eating, joking and throwing food at each other. Just like old times. The two of you didn’t leave the kitchen until you were both feeling stuffed.

Heading back to the Gryffindor tower, you were giggling at something James had said when you both heard footsteps nearby. Realizing he had left his invisibility cloak back in his dorm, James quickly pulled you to a very dark and hidden spot in the nearest corner of the hallway, behind an armor and beside a large shelf. Amidst the rush of having to improvise, he ended up with his both hands on your waist and his face almost glued to yours, since the space was limited and neither of you could move. His breath was uneven, just like yours, as he stared at your lips with a longing look on his eyes. Without thinking, he crashed his lips into yours, beginning a fueled, passionate kiss. You were immediately sent at a state of pure euphoria, all of your senses intensely and solely focused on this moment. Every inch of your body felt ecstatic, as if it had been waiting for this to happen for your entire life. As the boy deepened the kiss with a burning roughness you were already out of your mind, intoxicated by the feeling of having him touching you, kissing you. James slid one of his hands to your thigh and squeezed it slightly whilst taking his lips to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses, light bites and soft hickeys.

“Fuck, Jamie...” you suck the air between your teeth trying to suppress a moan, for James’ amusement. You could feel the satisfied grin he gave whilst his lips still sucked the skin of your neck, this time a little harder than before.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks you mischievously, even though he already knew your answer.

“Don’t you dare to!” You shot desperately at him and pulled him closer, tangling your hand in his hair and pulling it roughly. You heard him gasp in surprise and pleasure and you bit your lower lip satisfied.

You honestly didn’t know what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for Filch’s interruption. “I know there are students out of bed! I heard giggles! And I bet it’s Potter, Black and Lupin!” He exclaims, breaking you and James out of your desire-driven trance. You quickly took James’ hands from your body and recomposed yourself.

“Argus, please, we’ve been looking around this hallway for the past fifteen minutes and didn’t find anyone! Just go to bed for Merlin’s sake!” You heard the annoyed voice of a sleepy Minerva McGonagall.

You and James stayed behind the armor for a little while after the two of you had heard their voices fading away, just in case.

“So, I think we need to talk about what just happened,” he says with a wide smirk, scratching his head.

“Nothing happened,” you’re quickly to point out. The guilty was eating you alive as you thought about Harry and Lily.

“Oh, but it would’ve, love. It really would,” he shoots you a cocky grin.

“Look, Jamie...” you start, lowering your head as you were unable to look him in the eyes. “That can never happen again, okay? Never.”

“Come on, love...” he says, getting closer to you and holding your chin gently between two fingers, lifting it so you could look at him. “You can’t deny that something is going on between you and I. And it has been for quite some time now,” he says tenderly, leaning in slowly.

You frown sadly and turn your head away, holding back the tears of hopelessness that were starting to form in your eyes. “What’s wrong, love? Don’t be afraid,” he cups your face with both of his hands, leading your gaze back at him.

Seeing the hopeful look he had in his eyes nearly broke you for good. “I can’t do this, Jamie...” you whisper weakly, not even remotely resembling the strong and fiery girl you’re known to be.

“Why not? Look, if that’s because of Lily, you have nothing to worry about. I never really liked her and I know you know that. In the beginning I was motivated by the challenge and a bet Sirius and I had made, of course, but then... about two years ago I realized who my heart had really chosen. I did nothing because I was too much of a coward, I’m afraid,” he states.

The tears were now rolling furiously down your face, despite your best efforts to control them. “James, please stop talking.”

“I need you to hear me, love. Just listen to me, would ya? Please,” he smiles nervously at you.

“You’re not making any sense, for Merlin’s sake! You belong with Lily, that’s how it’s supposed to be! You’ll fall in love, start dating, get married and have a kid!” You frown hopelessly.

“Y/N, did you hear what I just say? I can’t be with someone I don’t love! And I know you’re not saying that for Lily’s sake because she doesn’t fancy me either!”

“You wouldn’t understand, but believe me when I tell you this, Lily is your soulmate! Besides, I’m seeing someone,” you didn’t wanna lie to him nor hurt him like that, but you had to take his mind off of this somehow.

His face dropped as he let go of you. “Oh... That makes sense. You don’t want anything to do with me because you’re already in love with somebody else. I don’t blame you, I knew you wouldn’t wait around forever for me to man up,” James shrugged. “But you could’ve just saved your best mate here the embarrassment by mentioning it earlier, couldn’t you love?” He grins sadly, putting his hands at his pockets, and turned around, leaving you alone with an aching heart in the middle of the dark.

***

It had been a week since your little episode with James and now he was the one avoiding you. You knew you should clear the air with him, but you thought you could use this time to get your head straight and focus on what you really needed: finding a way out of this pace of time. Despite the fact that you were making things right with Lily and Marlene, your friendship with the marauders was going downhill. Sirius and Remus barely speak to you anymore since they were always by James’ side and you did break their friend’s heart. You sigh whilst looking yourself in the mirror after getting ready for your classes: you were the perfect depiction of misery. Heading down the stairs to begin your day, your feet suddenly stop when you hear a familiar voice coming from the common room. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop but you couldn’t face them right now.

“Come on, Prongs. Lighten up a bit, would you?” Sirius’ voice sounded concerned.

“I am very good Pads, can’t you see?” James answers him bitterly.

“I think you should talk to Y/N again, tell her how you really feel. You should try to work this out with her, mate,” Remus advises.

“I’ve already tried that, Moony! She didn’t care!”

“From what you’ve told us, you just reassured her that you don’t have any feelings for Lily. Have you tried telling her exactly how you feel about her?” Remus asks wisely.

“What good could it possibly make? She‘s already in love with someone that’s not me,” James sighs.

“I find it hard to believe,” Sirius states. “It’s just so obvious that she has feelings for you, I don’t know how your blind, stubborn self can’t see it! Plus, we’re her best friends and she never even once mentioned some guy she fancied to us.”

“That’s not the kind of thing a girl discusses with her male friends, Padfoot,” Remus says as if it was obvious. You imagined him rolling his eyes at your friend at the end of that sentence.

“No, but she would’ve mentioned it to Lily and Marlene...” James says with a realization tone.

“What are you waiting for? Go ask them then and find out who’s your competition!” Sirius exclaims vigorously. “That, of course, assuming that he’s real and Y/N isn’t making it up just so she can get herself rid of you.”

“I thought you said she had obvious feelings for me a while ago,” James says nervously.

“Don’t mind him, Prongs. He’s messing with you. Just go find Lily,” Remus says and you can hear the three of them exiting the room through the portrait hole.

“Bloody hell!” You curse at yourself, knowing very well that Lily would cover for you, much for her dismay, but you’d need to come up with a plan soon because James wouldn’t be fooled by that forever.

You wandered through the castle’s hallways with your mind racing, deciding to skip breakfast so you could think about your current situation. That seemed to be all you were doing lately. In fact, all you really wanted to do was scream in frustration and punch someone in the face. It was beyond unfair having to choose between a kind of an all-consuming feeling that happened once in a lifetime and the sake of your friends and their future as individuals and as a group. Being here was becoming heavier and heavier each day that went by. How much longer will you be able to resist James and deny your feelings? How much longer will you have to torture yourself? What if Dumbledore couldn’t fix whatever caused the time-turner to malfunction? What if you were bound to be trapped here for good? All of a sudden you felt sick to your stomach as a last and despairing thought crossed your mind: what if you had to witness James and Lily fall in love with each other? You felt like throwing up, so lost in your own distresses that you only noticed you had stumbled upon someone when you were both on the floor.

“Merlin’s beard, I’m so sorry!” You say whilst getting up.

“I think you forgot your head back in the tower, L/N,” Amos Diggory joked, sitting.

“I suppose I did,” you smile sheepishly at him, offering your hand to help him stand on his feet. “Again, I’m really sorry. You okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” he winks casually at you. “You don’t seem quite alright yourself on the other hand,” he adds, noticing the worried frown on your face.

“Oh, about that, I...” you start, stopping suddenly when you noticed James standing at the opposite end of the aisle, frowning at the sight of you and Diggory alone in an empty corridor, your hands still in the Hufflepuff’s. “Please just go with it, I’ll explain everything in a minute,” you whisper to Amos, as you grin widely whilst staring into his eyes and resting your wrists on the back of his neck, pretending you hadn’t seen the marauders glancing at your direction.

“Alright, I think I can carry on with whatever this is, but I have to say I’m genuinely intrigued,” he lifts a brow at you, grinning and leading his hands to your waist.

Before you could say anything else, James passes by the two of you like a hurricane, Sirius and Remus on his trail. You swore you could catch a disappointed look from Remus as they followed their friend.

“Potter seems to be in a bad mood today, doesn’t he?” Amos drags your attention back to him and you’re met by a suspicious look on his face. “I’m willing to bet you know why.”

“I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to suck you into my personal drama, I just... I don’t even know what to say,” you lean against the wall, sighing heavily.

“Try me, L/N. I’m a pretty good listener if you ask me,” he shrugs, leaning next to you. “Besides, you can trust me not to spill your secrets around,” he winks at you.

“I know you’re trustworthy, Diggory,” you smile at the thought of how much he reminded you of your late friend Cedric Diggory, who also happened to be his son. “You’re a Hufflepuff.”

He laughs genuinely at your joke. “Bring it on then, L/N.”

“Alright,” you sigh. “So, I don’t know if you can tell, but I kind of have feelings for James...”

“Yeah, I might have noticed that. And so did the entire school,” he bumps his shoulder into yours. “But go on.”

“I thought you had said you were a pretty good listener?” You raise your brows, crossing your arms in your chest.

“Sorry, please, continue,” he encourages you.

“Anyway, I do have feelings for him but I can’t act on them for a number of reasons that I can’t really talk about,” you close your eyes, resting your head on the cold wall. It felt good to take it off your chest for once, and opening up about this felt liberating.

Diggory stared at you confused. “Pardon me if I’m intruding, but I’d say your chances with the guy are pretty good. I mean, it’s quite clear that your feelings are reciprocated. For example, that day during quidditch practice when he saw the two of us talking... he did look pretty annoyed to me and today, well, you just saw what happened,” he shrugged.

“I know that he harbors feelings for me as well, and that’s the point. He can’t. We can’t have feelings for each other. I’m not his destiny and neither he is mine,” you tilt your head to your right a little so you could look at Amos.

“How can you possibly say that? We never know what tomorrow has in storage for us,” he states.

“Except that I do, and that’s exactly why I can’t encourage his feelings nor my own,” you sigh hopelessly.

“I suppose that’s the part you can’t discuss?” He smiles sympathetic at you.

“Exactly,” you frown sadly.

“How can I help you?” He asks suddenly. “Well I suppose that’s why you flirted with me a while ago, right?! You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who’d randomly throw her arms around a guy’s neck in empty hallways. Specially having told the guy in question that she has feelings for another one moments later,” he adds mockingly after seeing the confused expression on your face.

“Right,” you frown sheepishly. “I kinda told James a few days back that I was already seeing someone, right after he kissed me.”

“Wow, harsh,” he frowns playfully.

“Yeah, I know. I just didn’t know what else to do, I sort of panicked,” you shrug.

“You can count on me. But before I leave to class, I just need to ask you something. Is this secret motivation of yours really worth the trouble of sacrificing a potential relationship and a few friendships over? Think about it, L/N. See you in transfiguration in a few,” he says before disappearing into the castle, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

——————————

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