#because if i don’t apply anything to my lips for more than two or three days they will get so dry they crack and bleed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gimmeurtmi · 2 months

Text

not yet — bang chan

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, smut!🔞

warnings: swearing, dom/sub dynamics, reader wears makeup, guided masturbation, fingering (self receiving), slight restraints, use of “baby”, “pretty,”, edging, undisclosed protection but please use it!!, descriptions of subspace, aftercare <3

inspo: commissioned by @staysinbloom thank you so much lovie and i hope you enjoy this!!! <3333

notes: as always feedback and reblogs are appreciated <3

{ wc: 3204 }

“Are you ready yet?” Chan poked his head into your room, a small smile on his face.

He was taking you out for dinner at your favourite restaurant, to celebrate your new promotion at work. You’ve been waiting for it for weeks, considering Chan was on the road when the news about your promotion came, and now the day was finally here. You took an extra long shower, exfoliating and putting on a hair mask and making yourself feel as good as possible in your skin. You knew Chan wouldn’t mind it either way, he kept saying you didn’t need to go above and beyond for him, that he liked being with you even when you were too tired to brush your hair, but he also knew you enjoyed your self care routine a lot–and so he gave you adequate time to get ready without rushing.

You still had an hour until Chan wanted to leave, you realised when you checked your phone, so you knew his question was more because he wanted attention rather than you falling behind on time.

“Not yet, I still need to do my eyeshadow,” you let him know. Chan hummed, entering the room and sitting on the bed behind your vanity.

“Can I watch?” He asked excitedly. You giggled, nodding as you got back to the task at hand–Chan’s curious eyes following your every move.

He happily watched, letting out impressed noises as he watched your makeup progress and take form, but otherwise there was relative silence in your room. You enjoyed it when you and Chan fell into a comfortable silence—it made everything feel domestic. Like it was you and him for some time, like it’ll be you and him for a while still. You liked the thought of that.

Once you were almost finished, nothing left to apply but your lipstick, Chan got up from his crossed legged position on the bed and placed his hands on your shoulders.

You hummed in a small question, meeting his eyes through the mirror.

In response, Chan placed a small kiss on the back of your neck before proceeding to make more exaggerated kissing noises. You laughed loudly.

“I don’t wanna ruin anything you’ve done,” he says with an endeared smile once you turn around to face him, lips puckered.

He places a small kiss on your lips, sweet and far too short, and so you kiss him three more time to make up for it. Chan smiles fondly when he pulls away, tucking a few stray hairs away from your forehead.

“You look incredible,” he says in a whisper.

“Channie,” you whine, “I’m not even dressed or anything!”

“Neither am I!” He says with a chuckle, before pecking your lips twice more and announcing he’s going to go get ready now.

You turn back around to finish everything you need to do as well.

—

Chan is the perfect gentleman. You know that, you’ve always known that, but you’re never opposed to being reminded of that. He opens your door to the car once you get there, he opens the door to the car when you head back home, too.

He helps you pick the best looking meal on the menu and when your eyes look at his plate a little too long he decides you two should just share his (you end up sharing both dishes and then dessert, too).

The dinner was delicious and the atmosphere was wonderful and when you found a great big mirror in the foyer of the restaurant Chan didn’t hesitate before posing in front of it when you sweetly asked for some mirror selfies with him.

You looked like a couple out of a movie, all dressed up and in love—and it wasn’t long before those pictures made it to your new lockscreen.

Once you arrived home, you softly kiss Chan’s lips—too determined to do so you don’t even make it past the entrance.

“Thank you for tonight, Channie,” you say softly before planting another kiss to his full lips.

“Don’t thank me,” he shys away slightly, before accepting a third kiss. “It’s all to celebrate you. You deserve everything.”

It’s your turn to be shy, and you tuck your face into Chan’s neck with a small whine.

Chan chuckles happily, bringing a hand to your back as he softly rubs up and down. He places a small kiss to the side of your face, before he mumbles, “I truly am so proud of you. My hardworking baby.”

You let out a scoff, before nuzzling closer into his warmth. You bring a hand to his arm, fingers circling around his strong bicep.

“I know it’s sometimes hard without me,” he hums, “but you do so well.”

You chuckle.

“Thank you,” you try your best to accept it. “I do my best even when you aren’t here, because I know you’ll always come back.”

Chan brings two fingers to your chin, lifting your head up to meet his eyes. Your insides turn warmer, comforted by his embrace and his soft gaze on you. With a smile, his dimples come out on display and you can’t help but grin at your beautiful boyfriend.

“I’m here for a while now,” he promises, “you won’t have to do anything alone.”

“Like the dishes,” you start teasing, “and the shopping, and the cleaning,”

Chan rolls his eyes, and you—emboldened by his dimples, say, “and I won’t have to touch myself anymore.”

“Why?” Chan asks, head titled to the side slightly, “you don’t like touching yourself?”

“Uh,” you feel a small blush creep up your ears, “I-I do, just not the same when you do it.”

“Why not?” He asks, his finger running up and down your back slowly, making its way around your neck and up towards your hairline.

“It’s not as fun cumming when you aren’t telling me to,” you confess.

Chan’s eyebrows lift lightly before he’s chuckling, rubbing your scalp softly.

“So you need someone to tell you when to cum?” His voice deepens.

“Not someone,” you insist, “you.”

“Right answer,” Chan declares, and laces his fingers with yours. He kisses the back of your hand, delicately, as his eyes search yours. After a few moments he smiles up at you and drags you towards your shared bedroom.

Once inside he turns to you with determination, before grabbing your face with both hands and pulling your lips towards him. Chan is eager, tongue already pushing through your lips and licking into your mouth.

You hold back your moans as much as you can until you feel his hands on your hips, moving you around, guiding you towards the bed.

“Baby,” he whispers against yours lips, tugging on your clothes lightly. You quickly get rid of your layers before tugging on Chan’s button up shirt. You open one button, then another, and then when you reach the hem of his pants he stops you.

You look up at him, eyes wide as his hand holds both your wrists in place.

“I let you open it so you could see my body you like so much,” you nod quickly in confirmation, “but this isn’t about me now.”

“Channie, I—“

“—I want you to show me what you do when I’m not here,”

You blush deeply, feeling it all the way to your chest. You avert your gaze away from Chan, which is hard—considering the absolute sight that he is—and try and hide yourself. You can’t hide too much, with Chan still easily holding your wrists together in one hand. The other hand is used to softly cup your jaw, making you look right at his piercing brown eyes.

“It’s not that interesting, though,” you mumble, your eyes focused solely on the skin peaking out of Chan’s open dress shirt, his collarbone sharp and oh so kissable.

“Look at me,” he says softly. Your eyes jump upwards. “You just need to show me, okay? Let’s start there.”

You nod.

Chan slowly lets go of your wrists and gently pushes you against the pillows. Instantly, you find yourself spreading your legs, letting each knee fall to the side as you feel Chan’s eyes all over you. You don’t feel shy anymore, with his loving eyes admiring you the way they do. You feel safe as he runs his hands up and down your thighs, keeping them spread.

Your stomach flips for a second when he says, “start.”

You bring your fingers towards your pussy, starting slowly as you run a hand up and down your folds to start off.

“That’s a good start,” Chan says with a nod, “spread your wetness around first.”

You find yourself nodding along, eager to fulfil Chan’s request.

“Sometimes,” you bravely start, feeling the shyness taking over again, but you push through. “I play with my tits a little, to get myself wet.”

“Show me,” he smiles, squeezing your thighs for a moment before getting back to rubbing up and down the skin.

You bring your free hand to your chest, kneading softly before you roll your nipple between your fingers.

Chan tsks, shaking his head. “Not like that,” he says, face serious.

You're reminded of a time you were watching him practice with the others, and he stopped everything just to correct one of the boys’ mistake. You're reminded of how they all froze in fear when he said stop, how they all listen to his every word. You're reminded of just how much power Chan has over others, over his members, and over you. You feel electricity run through your body at the thought.

“Then how?” You ask, voice weak as it cracks.

“Take your thumb,” you nod, “and rub it slowly over your nipple. You like that more.”

He wasn’t saying you might like it more; it wasn’t a suggestion. Chan was telling you what you like and how to do it, and your pussy clenched around nothing at his words.

You followed his orders—and obviously he was right, and you let your head fall into the pillows as you breathed out an airy moan.

“That feels good, right?” You nod, halting the movement of your fingers as soon as your reach your clit. You stay there, applying light pressure and biting your lip.

You’ve been with Chan for however long now, and still, you don’t think you’ve ever touched yourself like this in front of him—certainly not under such scrutiny.

The realisation spurred you on, your fingers moving faster and faster against your clit.

“Just like that,” he says softly, voice slightly rough as he leans down to kiss the skin by your knee.

You dip a finger inside yourself, slowly, but Chan lifts up his hand. You freeze.

“Did I tell you to do that?” He asks, eyebrows scrunched together in faux confusion. It looks more like anger, and you feel yourself getting even wetter under his gaze.

“N-no,” you let out in a small voice.

“So?” He prompts.

“Channie, can I fuck myself on my fingers like I usually do when you’re not here?”

He chuckled loudly. “Not so shy anymore, huh?”

You shake your head, blinking up at him.

“Good,” he hums, “but only one finger for now. Okay?”

“Yeah, yes,” you happily nod, before sliding your finger further inside your pussy.

Chan moves around a little, settling himself on his stomach so his face is right in front of your exposed cunt. You’d usually get far too shy about all of this, but the want inside you is too intense to care about any of that. You keep moving your fingers, in and out, a loud wet sound following your movements.

“Sounds so good,” he whispers, reaching out a hand to touch. You want him to, need it so desperately, but his hand never reaches you.

“Channie,” you breath out, “want your fingers instead.”

He shakes his head as he clicks his tongue, “not yet.”

“Please,” you whine, moving your finger faster, “need more.”

“Add another finger,” he orders, and you quickly obey, even though that wasn’t what you asked for.

The stretch feels nice, so nice, you let your eyes flutter shut as you let the feeling take over your body.

“Feels good?” He asks, and kisses your thigh softly. Your whole body sets on fire from his touch, and you open your eyes just to whine loudly at him.

“More, please,” you beg, shamelessly.

“Another finger?” He says it as a question, but you still obey regardless.

With three fingers it’s harder to move your hand quickly, the stretch on the side of too tight, but you try as hard as you can. Because Chan told you to.

“Channie, want you,” you whimper.

“Not yet,” is all he answers.

He tells you to move faster, and so you do, and soon you can feel the telltale sign of an orgasm. It’s so close, even Chan can see it, and when your breath becomes ragged and quick he grabs your wrist again—halting your movements.

“What? What?” You let out, eyes wide and jaw gapped.

“Not yet,” he smiles, and asks you to slowly take your fingers out.

You do, without question or hesitation, and try your best to hide your disappointment. It doesn’t work too well, though.

“My beautiful baby,” he coos, kissing your cheek, “you wanted to cum?”

“Y-yeah, I was so close,” you pout at him.

Chan softly kisses your cheek, once then twice, before nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Can I feel how wet you are?” He asks softly. You nod. “With my cock?”

You moan, grabbing onto Chan’s shoulders as you breath out a string of incoherent pleas. He quickly strips himself—and you want to reach out and touch all over his body, but you stop yourself. Chan said this was about you and you should listen to him.

He grabs himself at the base, already fully hard just from watching you, and nudges the head into your entrance.

Chan raises a small eyebrow in question, and you nod quickly as you beg out a small, “more, want you deep.”

Chan pushes inside just like you’ve asked and before he can even settle and give you time to get used to the deep stretch of his cock you’re already squeezing at his shoulders.

“Channie, please, please move, I need it,” you start mumbling.

Chan kisses your forehead softly, as his warm hand cups your jaw. His fingers rub against your cheek, soft and comforting, before he starts fucking into you—hard and quick.

You aren’t sure what you’re saying, your mouth hanging open and Chan punching noises out of your chest as the pleasure takes over your thighs and your stomach and your cunt. It feels so good and Chan is asking you something but you don’t hear it until the second time he asks.

“Close?”

“Yes, yes, yes, so close I just need—“ you reach your hand towards your clit, but it’s once again trapped in Chan’s hold, and soon he pulls out entirely.

The pleasure leaves your body just as quick as it started, and your walls clench pathetically over the emptiness inside you while your clit throbs. There’s a fog taking over your brain; and with Chan holding you, you let yourself slip deeper into it.

“Why Channie?” you whine, shaking your head from side to side.

Chan kisses your wrist sweetly before letting it go, watching proudly as you pull your fingers away from your body and place them by your side.

“Not yet,” he kisses your lips.

Chan keeps going, again and again and again, pulling out as soon as you start begging to cum—enjoying the way you sob dryly at his treatment.

It’s when your eyes glaze over and your voice turns too soft for Chan to hear that he rubs your stomach softly.

“Six edges is really impressive, pretty,” he kisses your lips, “how are you feeling?”

You hum. “It feels so good.”

Chan smiles, kissing you again when you pucker your lips out silently. “I know.”

“Please don’t say not yet again,” you open your eyes, only now realising they’ve been closed. You aren’t sure for how long, but you blink the darkness away and look up at Chan. “Please let me cum now.”

Chan nods.

“Really? Really?” You grab onto his arms. “Please, please can I? Please?”

“Yes, baby, now you can.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, Channie, please,” you grab at his hips, pulling him closer to you with as much force as you can muster.

He chuckles before sliding all the way back inside you again. He’s edged you on his cock for however long, and so the stretch is nice and familiar by now—your cunt sucking him in desperately.

You clench around him as hard as you can, enjoying the way the fullness feels between your legs and all the way up into your stomach.

Chan holds your hips for leverage as he fucks into you once, twice. thumb rubbing against your hip bone, four, and then—

“Chan, Chan, Chan, I’m gonna, please, I can’t, I’m sooo close,”

“Cum, my pretty, cum on my cock.”

Your whole body shakes with it as your orgasm crashes into you after all the times Chan’s denied you, your toes curling and your stomach clenching and your veins glowing with it. Your vision turns black and your moans get caught in your throat and you feel even your jaw shaking.

It’s a few moments later, as you’re still basking in the afterglow, that Chan kisses your shoulder in a series of slow pecks as he mumbles out praises and, “I got you, baby, did so well. I’m here, I got you.”

Once you blink up at him with a pleased smile on your face, he leans down to kiss your lips. Even if you’re too tired to reciprocate much, you try.

“I’m gonna get something to clean with, alright?”

You nod, but pull Chan in for a slightly sweaty hug.

“You’re gonna need to let go,” he sing songs in your ear.

“Not yet,” you sing song back.

Chan laughs heartily at that, his laugh high pitched and disappearing at the edges—and it’s so contagious.

After the pair of you calm down, Chan eventually leaves to get you a washcloth and some food.

You drink the water he gives you, and eat the fruit, and he helps you clean yourself.

“Do you need anything else?” He asks once he takes away the empty bottle from you, rubbing your arm soothingly.

“My makeup,” you say, although you’re sure your massacre is already smudged on half your face by now and the foundation on your chin has probably disappeared.

Chan retrieves your makeup remover from the bathroom and your night cream, already applying some of the product on a cotton pad.

You reach out for it but Chan is faster, and grabs your chin while he gently removes the makeup. You hum happily, allowing Chan to spoil you.

“I love you, Channie,” you say as he starts applying the moisturiser onto your skin.

You giggle at his slightly surprised expression, before he leans in to kiss you. “I love you, too.”

You fall asleep in each other’s arms, satisfied and happy and safe.

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 11 months

Text

Beach Day - Hangman

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Sersin / Wife!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Referenced Sexual Innuedos/Situations; Three Named Seresin Kids; Wife!Reader is not Named, No Physical Description, No "You" or Y/N

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: Jake and his wife enjoy a beach day with their three kids.

Master List

With the spring heat settling over Miramar, the Seresin family made their way down to the beach. Jake had the day off and intended to spend the full day with his family. Especially because he was probably going to be sent on deployment at some point relatively soon.

The beach was mostly full of surfboarders and a few small groups, so the Seresin family had their pick of the patches of sand. And unsurprisingly, little JJ—Javier Jacob—Seresin, the eldest of the Seresin bunch, marched ahead of his parents, leading his way through the sand to a spot of his choice.

“Right here?” Jake asked JJ after he tossed his toys down on a patch of sand.

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, pointing at the sand. He tossed his toys on the ground, claiming the area for the Seresin family. JJ barely let his parents set down their bags and get his siblings in order before he turned to the waves. "Can we go to the water?”

“Not without me,” Jake stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Remember, you can’t go into the water without Mommy or Daddy.”

“And you need some sunscreen too,” Jake’s wife called, pulling out the sunscreen. “Come here, JJ.”

JJ pouted a bit, but he eventually trotted over to his mom, who was in the middle of applying sunblock to his little brother, Charlie, who was far less antsy than JJ to get to the water. Charlie was by far the most cautious of the Seresin siblings, taking after his mom more. JJ, on the other hand, dove into everything head first.

And that was why Jake wasn’t going to let him anywhere near the water without supervision.

Once Charlie and JJ had their sunblock on, Jake turned to his wife and held out the tub of sunscreen. Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, he turned around for her.

“Don’t be afraid to really get in there, Mrs. Seresin.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll make sure I cover every inch, Mr. Seresin.”

And, well, Jake’s wife wasn’t going to complain about getting to touch her husband. Even if they had to be a bit subdued because of the publicity and children present. Three kids definitely took their toll on their own shared intimacy, so they managed to morph into horny teenagers whenever they could actually get their hands on each other.

Once she covered his back in a layer of sunscreen, Jake turned around for her to get his chest. He could have easily done it himself, but neither of the two of them were complaining. Locking eyes, Jake’s wife bit her lip to fight a smirk as she teased the patch of skin right above his swim trunks.

“Careful, Mrs. Seresin. There are little eyes around,” Jake replied, as if he wasn’t leaning into her touch. He leaned down and rested his forehead against her own. “But there won’t be later.”

“All set,” Jake’s wife stated, giving him a love pat on his ass. “You’re dismissed, boys.”

Jake snuck a kiss from his wife before bending down to help his two sons with their puddle jumpers. With both boys safe in their floatation gear, Jake scooped Charlie up and into his arms and took JJ by the hand to lead him down to the waves.

“Call if you need anything,” Jake replied, glancing over at the still sleeping baby.

“We’ll be fine. Have fun, babies!” Jake’s wife cooed to her sons. “Be good for Daddy!”

“We will!”

“Don’t feel obligated to follow your own advice,” Jake winked, earning a look from his wife.

“Shoo,” she laughed, waving her hand. “Go to the water. Or JJ’s going to run away from you.”

Jake headed down to the water while his wife took shelter in the shade of the small umbrella that Jake set up when they arrived. Baby Evelyn Seresin was peacefully sleeping in her carrier. Jake once remarked that Evelyn could sleep through just about anything and it looked like she was keeping up that streak. Settling into her chair, Jake’s wife turned to the water to watch her boys.

JJ was running around in the waves, giggling and screaming as he kicked at the water. Charlie was still on his dad’s hip, staring at the water with clear distrust. Jake was obviously trying to encourage him to touch the water, but he wasn’t successful. Reading her book for a bit, Jake’s wife suddenly looked up when her daughter stirred. She picked her daughter up and into her arms to settle her.

“I know, I know,” Jake’s wife cooed, patting her daughter’s back. “Come on, let’s go see your brothers and your dad, huh?”

Slowly getting up from her chair, Jake’s wife made her way down to the waves with her baby resting against her chest. Evelyn was only a few months old, but it took absolutely no time whatsoever for her to get the three Seresin boys completely and utterly wrapped around her dainty little finger.

“Hey, look who woke up,” Jake called when he spotted his girls. He leaned over to press a kiss to his wife’s lips and then his daughter’s head. “Want to go for a little dip, Evie?”

With practiced maneuvers, Jake took Evelyn while his wife took Charlie into her arms—the Daddy’s Girl and Mama’s Boy. Charlie happily clutched onto his mom, who he knew wouldn’t force him to touch the cold, dark waves. And Evie picked up her head just a bit to blink at her dad.

“Hi, Princess. How’re you feeling?” Jake cooed, rubbing her back.

While his wife turned to entertain JJ, Jake carefully squatted down as the waves trickled up again. He kept a solid grip on his daughter, but lowered her little feet down to the water. Evelyn let out a noise when the water brushed against her toes, but she didn’t cry or complain. And when she started to kick at the water, Jake couldn’t help but laugh.

“There you go, baby girl. Look at you! You’re going to be a swimmer, I know it,” Jake praised his daughter, pressing a set of kisses to her head.

When the sun drew higher in the sky and the beach started to grow full, the Seresin family made their way home for lunch and nap time. Working as a team, Jake and his wife got all three kids cleaned up, fed lunch, and down for their naps.

“Are the boys asleep?” Jake whispered to his wife as he stepped out of the nursery.

“They knocked out the second that their heads touched their pillows,” she mused, chuckling lightly. “I think that we tired them out. What about Evie?”

“She’s sound asleep,” Jake reported, closing the door carefully.

“I think that we have some time,” Jake’s wife stated suggestively, smiling at her husband.

“Lead the way, Mrs. Seresin,” Jake replied, matching his wife’s smile.

Grabbing each other’s hand, the Seresins hurried down the hallway to their shared bedroom. A quick joint shower and change of clothes later, the sound of snoring echoed down the hallway. Jake laid on his back with his wife curled up onto his chest and the both of them absolutely passed out.

Maybe younger versions of themselves would have wanted to spend every second of their free time catching up on their limited intimacy. But for now, a shower quickie would suffice. They had more hours of sleep to catch up on than anything else, after all.

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 11 months

Note

Howdy! May i request prompts 52 or 54 with dom Larissa Weems x gn Student Reader? maybe sugar mommy vibes aswell 👀

Heyyy anon! So… I went with a TeachersAid!Reader instead… But I’ll make it up to you by using both prompts and by adding those sugar mommy vibes… 😏 Also I don’t know why but I just associate AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” with car sex… 😆🤭

Tipsy Nights ~Principal Larissa Weems xFem TeachersAid!Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#52. “Fuck… Mommy! … Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… slipped out…?”

#54. “You can call me Mommy if you want too…”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, alcohol consumption, age gap (all legal), kissing, fingering, eating out, car sex, thigh riding, mommy kink, praise kink, sugar mommy, implied degrading kink, etc.

Enjoy (;

You hadn’t expected this when you had applied to Nevermore as a Teachers Aid. You joined the school with the hope of one day becoming a teacher there as well. Larissa had immediately taken note of you when she had hired you, and throughout the year, she had noticed your isolated nature. Her inviting you to a friendly dinner had been spur of the moment, but she was ever so grateful that she had.

This was the fourth time that Principal Weems— or as she insisted you call her, Larissa— had invited you to dinner. It wasn’t anything relationship-like, Ms. Weems had suggested it at first, because she wanted to talk and make sure you were doing well. But now after three dinners and a fourth invite, you were starting to think that Larissa was simply lonely and that she wanted company.

And that was okay with you. You were open to going to dinner once a week and chatting with the blonde principal. It felt nice to be honest. It made both you and Larissa feel less alone. So you two developed this nice system; she’d take you to dinner and you two would enjoy the pleasure of another’s company.

~~~

“Can I ask you something the tiniest bit awkward…?” You spoke, fiddling with the wine glass in your hand as you looked up and across the dining table to the blonde.

The two of you had already eaten and were now slowly drinking the night away.

“Anything, Darling…” Larissa hummed, taking a sip of her own wine.

“Aren’t you kind of like my sugar mommy…?” You pondered aloud, “Like you buy me dinners and gifts, and in return, I give you company…”

At your words, Larissa had to stop herself from chocking on her wine.

“I… Yes, if you want to think about it in that way… I suppose so…” she chuckled.

~~~

You both left the restaurant a little bit more than tipsy. Larissa had insisted she drive as her alcohol tolerance was a lot better than yours. You both got into her car and headed back to Nevermore. The drive was taken in silence, mainly cause you couldn’t stop staring at Larissa’s lips.

“You’re staring…” the blonde chuckled.

“Right, sorry…” you muttered, looking away and your cheeks flushing red.

You finally arrived back at the school, Larissa pulling into the Nevermore parking lot. But as she put the car in park and turned the ignition off, neither of you went to get out of the vehicle. You both just stared forward as the tension in the car built.

Then at one point, you looked over to the blonde, only to find she was looking back at you. You both seemed to be inching closer to each other. Your gaze flickered from hers to her lips and back up to her eyes. And before either of you could say anything, your lips were connected with hers in a breathless, heated kiss.

You were just beginning to taste the notes of wine in her breath, but as soon as the kiss had happened, it was over. Larissa was quick to pull away, looking rather frantic.

“I… did I do something…?” You asked, concerned.

“Darling, we… we shouldn’t be doing this…” Larissa muttered.

“Oh… Because I’m your subordinate…?”

“I— No… We’ll sort of…” Larissa muttered, biting her lip, “I just…”

She finally looked at you. Her eyes were filled with a myriad of emotions.

“I don’t want to ruin a good thing…” she whispered.

You gulped and nodded.

“I… I understand…” you sighed, not bearing to look up at Larissa not wanting her to see the sadness in your eyes.

At this, the blonde snaked her hand into yours on the car console, attempting to comfort you. But then a though struck you.

“But—But what if it’s part of our arrangement?” You spoke with hope in your tone, meeting the blondes gaze again.

“I’m sorry…?”

“What if in return for dinners and gifts, I give you my time along with other things…” you whispered.

Now it was Larissa’s turn to flutter her eyes down to your lips.

“Yes…” She breathlessly whispered, crashing her lips back into yours.

Larissa immediately picked you up and pulled you into straddling her lap. You moaned into her lips as your core ground lightly against the side of the blonde’s thigh. Larissa chuckled lightly at your sensitivity, moving you to straddle her one thigh instead.

“I would say let’s continue this inside, but I don’t think either of us can wait… Can we…?” Larissa breathily groaned.

In saying that, the blonde placed her hands on your hips and tensed her thigh, making you jerk you hips forward in pleasure.

“OhHhH Fuck…!!” You moaned out, your clothed clit grinding deliciously against Larissa’s thigh.

“That’s it, Darling… Grind down on my thigh…” Larissa breathlessly purred, her hands on your hips aiding your grindings.

Another needy moan left your lips. And another. And many more after that. Larissa herself was getting insanely aroused at how delicious you looked, rutting against her thigh. At one point, your knickers rubbed against your clit in just the right way, making your eyes roll backs bd your hips jerk forward.

“Fuck… Mommy!” You cried out, your eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

But your eyes opened wide as you stopped all administrations, when you realized what you had said. Larissa was simply starring at you, mouth agape.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… slipped out—?” You stuttered.

“Shut up.” Larissa growled, pulling you by your neck and smashing her lips onto yours once more.

You whimpered desperately into the kiss. Larissa pulled back slightly, her lustful gaze meeting yours.

“I want to taste you…” Larissa lustfully growled.

Your breath hitched and you nodded vigorously.

“Um… Back seats…?” You needily suggested, your hips squirming in anticipation.

Larissa nodded eagerly. Within minutes, the blonde had you splayed out across the back seats of her car as she removed your knickers and finally delved her tongue into your throbbing heat.

You couldn’t contain your moans and whimpers as Larissa skillfully ate you out. You always had a feeling that tongue of hers was talented. And fuck did she prove you right… The woman had you cumming within mere minutes. And then again. With only her tongue. And the screams she pulled out of you… Oh they were downright sinful…

Christ, were you in love with this woman…

After your second orgasm hit you like a brick wall, Larissa came back up to your face with a smirk and your cum all over her face. Her lips were on yours once more.

“Let me return the favor…?” You panted into her red, plump lips.

Larissa nodded eagerly, pulling you up into a sitting position with her, and then pulling you down in the other direction so that you were now on top of her. You nodded, understanding Larissa’s thought, and you scurried down her body, rolling up her dress, and quickly stripping away her knickers.

You licked your lips and were quick to attach your hot mouth to the blonde’s clit. Larissa’s hand snaked itself in your hair, only pushing you deeper into her cunt. You then inserted two of your fingers into her heat. Larissa let out a guttural moan as you began curling your fingers inside her. Her thighs squeezed your head so deliciously tight, you thought you’d see stars.

You worked the blonde up and over her climax, happily drinking all of her juices as she came all over you fingers. You helped Larissa down from her high and then pulled your fingers out of her, coming back up to her gaze.

“Suck on them for me, Darling…” Larissa lustfully husked, indicating to your fingers, “And you can call me Mommy if you want too…”

Your breath hitched at her words, and you did as you were told, stuffing your fingers in your mouth and sucking her cum clean off.

“Yes mommy…” you whispered.

“Good girl…” Larissa praised, connecting your lips back to hers.

~~~

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queen-of-deans-booty · 3 months

Text

Find Your Way Back Home: Part Three

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff

Summary: Dean turns to you for comfort whenever he is feeling vulnerable and emotional. You try to help in any way you can, even if it means giving yourself to him physically. He tries to push you out of his life but you show him that you're not going anywhere.

Author’s Note: This is the third part of six parts of the commission for @winchester-sinchester. Dean is twenty-six, the reader is eighteen, and Sam is twenty-four.

It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen or talked to Dean after he promised to stay with you. Maybe he had a good reason for leaving but then why didn’t he just tell you? Did he only tell you what you wanted to hear? Does he feel the same way as you do for him? Your roommate returned home last week but the place feels empty without Dean in it.

You’re in the kitchen making something to eat when you glance at your phone that’s sitting on the counter.

“Why are you staring at your phone like it’s talking to you?” your roommate, Jessica, asks.

“I’m debating on calling someone.”

“Who?” You don’t answer her. “Just call him.”

“How do you know it’s a him?”

“You’re looking at your phone in hope. I know for a fact you’re not into women, and you wouldn’t be looking at your phone if he was just a friend.”

You hate how perceptive she can be. You finish making your food and set the plate on the counter only to pick up your phone. You dial Dean’s number before you can stop yourself and place the phone at your ear.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he answers in two rings.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me? You left, Dean. You promised me you’d stay.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. My dad needed me. Sam’s gone and he needed some help on a hunt.”

“You could have left me a note or something.”

“If it helps anything, I did enjoy my time with you.”

Just like that, he brings a smile to your face. Your first time is exactly how they describe in books. It was passionate and magical.

“Me, too. When can I see you again?”

“Well, I’m finishing a hunt right now but I can come down after.”

“Okay. There’s a diner here that has amazing burgers. I think you’d like it.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Heat spreads from your neck to your cheeks, and you turn away from your roommate so she doesn’t see how quickly you’ve fallen for Dean.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” you chuckle.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you in a few days.”

You hang up on Dean with a smile on your face.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Jessica asks.

“No, but I’m hoping he might be.”

Four days go by antagonizing slowly. Your homework sits on your computer untouched because all you can think about is Dean and his hands on you. He made good on his promise and showed up at your dorm by the end of the week, and you hate how quickly you’re running down the stairs to greet him.

“Dean!” you smile and fling yourself into his arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he smiles.

He leans down and captures your lips with his. It feels good to finally be in his arms. Your body screams at you for his touch but you want something more than just sex. You want to know his mind and connect with him on a deeper level than just physical.

“So, the diner doesn’t close until really late but I was thinking if we go there now, we’ll still have enough time to go bowling afterwards. There is a place near here that’s pretty cool. The lanes light up.”

Dean bends slightly and hooks his hands underneath your thighs. You’re forced to wrap your legs around his waist so you don’t fall, but you don’t mind the position. He slides his hands over your ass to keep you close to him as he walks inside your building. The door is propped open since they are having new students come in and apply to live there next year. No one is in the lobby as Dean carries you through it and up the stairs to your floor.

“I have a better idea,” he grins and kisses your neck when he reaches your front door.

You didn’t lock it for this exact reason so he pushes it open and slams it shut behind him. Jessica is in class so it’s just you two again. The thought of having him inside you again is getting you wetter than you care to admit. Ever since your first time, you’ve craved his touch. You haven’t been with another man since you don’t want anyone else but him.

“I don’t think I can wait this time, Dean. I just need you inside me.”

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

He lays you on your bed and runs his hands down your clothed legs. He doesn’t want you to think you’re some booty call but damn, he can’t think about anything else but your pussy. He undoes the string on the front of your sweats and pulls them down your legs along with your panties. He really isn’t wasting time on you.

Dean unbuttons his jeans and pulls down his briefs along with it. His cock springs free with a red angry tip. Precome drizzles down the side of his cock, making your mouth water at the sight. You want to taste him but later, you will. Dean grabs a condom from his pocket and rips it open with his teeth, careful not to break the rubber. He slides it onto his aching cock before running the tip through your folds.

You’re about to bite out some snappy remark when he shoves himself into your drenched pussy. You tip your head back and moan his name while grabbing at whatever you can. Dean falls onto you but catches himself before he can crush you.

“Damn, sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight. Have you fucked anyone after me?”

“No, only you,” you moan.

Dean sets s a fast pace that has you both climbing to your climaxes at the same time. You come around him first followed by himself right after. It’s a short but intense session that’s got your legs shaking and your heart racing. You’re kind of embarrassed for not lasting long but you just missed him so much. Dean pulls out of you and discards the condom before pulling his pants up.

“If you’re hungry we can go to the diner or we can go bowling first. If you still want to.”

“Eat first. I’m starving.”

You get dressed in something more public-appropriate before leaving your dorm with Dean. The diner is located very close to your college so that college students can walk there if they don’t have a car, but Dean still uses his to get there. It’s not packed which is good so you and Dean can have some peace and quiet compared to moments ago.

The waitress brings you two some menus before leaving to tend to other customers. You look through it briefly before looking at Dean in thought. He looks… tired… worn out. He looks like the shit his father has thrown at him is finally catching up with him. He should be experiencing life in his twenties, not fighting and killing monsters.

“How’s your dad doing?” you ask.

“He’s… dad.”

Well, that’s not vague at all.

“How’s Sam doing?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You haven’t been by to visit him?”

“Nope.”

“Why? You came to see me, and I’m pretty sure I’m farther than Stanford.”

“He left this family. I didn’t make him do anything he didn't want to do. He left us. Why should I go after him when he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with us?” Dean scoffs.

“Dean--”

“Anyway, how are you doing? How is school?”

Dean hates talking about his family because it makes him emotional which makes him vulnerable. He hates feeling vulnerable so he avoids talking about things he knows will make him that. You want to pry but you don’t want him to leave so you leave it alone for now.

“School is good. All of my classes are pretty easy.”

“Still all online?”

“Every one of them. I can still go with you, you know? Company or to help hunt.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t want to drag you into this mess.”

“You did when I was ten.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

He doesn’t want you with him but you’re going to keep trying.

“You know, I’ve gotten better at fighting. My building has a gym that I’ve been using almost every day. My aim is better and I’ve read on a ton of lore. I can help you and your dad.”

“I don’t want to taint your innocence.”

Dean didn’t come here to discuss the possibility of you hunting with him full-time. You’re eighteen. He wants you to get an education and stay away from this life as much as you can. He wants you to stay away from him but he can’t seem to stop himself from coming back to you. After a delicious dinner, you two head back to your dorm room where he spends the night.

“Are you going to be here when I wake up?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You let that comfort you into a deep slumber but the fear of not seeing him in the morning is what wakes you up. The spot next to you on the bed is empty but warm which means he left it not too long ago. Is he still here? Did he break his promise again? Before you can overthink, you hear someone cooking something in the kitchen. You throw on something to wear and head out to see Dean in the kitchen making eggs.

“You stayed,” you smile.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

“So, we didn't get to go bowling yesterday, but there is this place north of here that has a bunch of activities to do like escape rooms and rage rooms. I figure we can go up there for the day.” Dean flips the eggs in the pan but doesn’t say anything. “Dean?”

“I can’t stay,” he says without turning around.

If he had, he would have seen your face drop.

“What? Why not?”

“My dad called me. He didn’t know I took this little trip and needed me to come back. He’s pissed but I’m hoping by the time I get to him, he might have calmed down.”

“Are you sure? What if you didn’t go back?”

“I have to,” he sighs. He puts the eggs on a plate and sets it in front of you. “He’s my dad and he needs me.”

“Let me come with you.”

“No.” Dean sees the look of sadness in your eyes and walks around the counter to stand next to you. He grabs both sides of your face and kisses you slowly. “I’ll be back.”

You both know he won’t… not for a while. Dean is gone before you know it, and you look down at the eggs he made for you. Suddenly, you’re not so hungry. The first few days after Dean left are spent in your room crying over him. The fourth and fifth day is spent studying and working on your homework as best as you can. The seventh day is the day you realize that you’re an adult and can do whatever you want. Who is Dean to tell you that you can’t help him on hunts?

If you want to go to him then you’re going to go to him. It’s not hard to pack up some of your shit and continue your schoolwork online from anywhere in the country. Dean told you where he and his dad were in case you ever needed him, and that’s where you’re headed now.

There is only one motel on this long stretch of road so it has to be the one Dean and John are staying in. You knock on the door when you get there and wait for Dean to answer. The curtains shift cautiously before the door opens.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Dean asks.

He has his gun in his hands thinking it could be a monster instead of you.

“I’m helping you. Are you going to let me in?”

“Sure,” he mutters and steps aside. “What do you mean you’re helping me?”

“I told you. All my classes are online. You need me.”

Dean has to give you credit. You’re persistent. He closes the door with a quiet chuckle.

“You sure you’re ready for this life?”

“How hard can it be? You do it,” you tease.

You’re ready to take this next step with Dean even if ends in heartbreak and disaster.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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gucciwins · 1 year

Text

a midnight kiss

harry decides to make a move before the clock strikes midnight

A/N: hi friends! nothing better to end and start the year with is a new story. something short and sweet for you all to enjoy. love you!!! catch me at midnight running around my house with my suitcase :D

Word count: 2182

Losing her friends minutes before the clock struck twelve had Y/N nervous. She was comfortable being alone, but only in an environment she enjoyed. She enjoyed the library, which had the best reading spot on the third floor down a back corner that allowed her to stay seated all day. There was also her brother’s tattoo shop, where she sat behind the counter greeting new customers, always excited when they showed off a new piercing or new tattoo. There were few places, and tonight she was feeling lost in the crowd of unknown strangers.

Y/N began to push through the crowd hoping to make it to the patio doors outside, happy to ring in new year’s alone, staring up at the moon than with drunk strangers. What Y/N didn’t realize was that someone had their eye on her all night, working up the courage to talk to her. He had seen her around, how she laughed at her friend's jokes and always searching for a hand to hold.

Seeing her head outside, he knew it was a moment he couldn’t miss out on. Harry wouldn’t want her ringing in the new year alone.

“Not cold?”

Y/N turns when she hears a voice fill the silence. She squints her eyes until he sets into the light, the moonlight bouncing off his face allowing her to get a good look at him.

It’s Harry.

She had seen him multiple times at the tattoo shop. She always gushed over his new pieces. Telling him which were her favorite tattoos he had but never offered more than a half smile.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s just me.”

She remembers she never answered his question. “I like the cold.”

As Harry steps closers, he can see the goosebumps on her arms and begins to shrug off his coat and place it over Y/N without giving her a choice. “Just because you like it doesn’t mean you should endure it.”

Y/N tucks her head down, biting back a smile at Harry’s kindness. “Thank you.”

Harry looks at the sky and knows it will light up with fireworks in minutes. London never did shy away from a big display to ring in the new year.

“What’s your new year’s resolution?”

Y/N giggles, “didn’t take you for the type to have one of those, Harry.”

He shrugs, bumping his arm into hers, “when you really mean them, then I reckon you’ll do anything to make it happen.”

She takes a second to think it over and knows he’s right. There have been a few years since Y/N followed through with her resolution. When she was younger, she promised she wouldn’t curse anymore, and three days in, her brother changed her shampoo to pink hair dye, and she cursed at him like a sailor. There was also the year she swore she’d go to the gym consistently, promising to get a membership that was rubbish. Two years ago, her resolution was to connect more with herself and get into yoga. She learned new poses and meditation with each class, leaving with newfound confidence and friends. Last year, her resolution was to take on new adventures, leading her to Mexico for a research opportunity. A professor urged her to apply, and off she went. Y/N also visited Iceland over a long holiday, where she went on her first of many solo trips. Now, this year Y/N had an idea of what she wanted but was a bit bashful to share it with Harry, who had only ever spoken a handful of words with at most.

“Think mine’s rather silly then.”

Harry shakes his head, “don’t believe it.”

Y/N sighs, “will you tell me yours?”

“Promise.”

It’s good enough for Y/N.

“I want to get a tattoo,” she mumbles.

Y/N turns her head to see Harry’s reaction. He has a pout on his lips, and Y/N wishes she could kiss it away. Sue her. She has a crush on Harry. He visits the shop frequently; how could she forget him, there’s always a new tattoo being added to his left arm, and she wonders if there are more she doesn’t even know about.

“Your brother owns Sunflower Ink.” Harry states. “Why hasn’t he?”

She shakes her head, trying to find the words to explain to Harry why she’s never gotten a tattoo. “He’s drawn me endless sketches, and I love them. I want them on me forever.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Y/N feels her face flush, “because he won’t hold my hand.”

She waits for Harry to start laughing at her, but he doesn’t. He looks down at her pink nails and frowns. He reaches his hand slowly, testing to see if Y/N would stop him, but she doesn't. She is lost in a trance staring at the rings on Harry’s fingers, a silver robin, a lion head, and a pearled ring. The rings seem perfect for Harry, and she wonders if he takes them off each night, thinking about the beauty of each ring only to repeat the cycle tomorrow by slipping them on.

Harry’s warm hand reaches her cold and frowns at the contrast, but it doesn’t stop him. He slips his fingers between the cracks of hers. Y/N stares at where they now stand intertwined, and she smiles because she likes the feeling of his palm in hers.

“Like that?” Harry asks.

“Something like that,” she whispers, still lost in how quickly her body is beginning to warm up due to his added connection to her.

“I’d hold your hand.”

Y/N breaks her gaze from their intertwined hands to look up at him, his emerald eyes gleaming in the moonlight, and she knows he means it.

“You wouldn’t be embarrassed,” she asks.

He shakes his head, “not if I was making you feel safe.”

Y/N lets his offer sink, and she wants to say yes. She’s scared that if she accepts, he’ll say no or that tomorrow he’ll come into the shops and tell her he can’t sit with her while her brother pierces a needle into her skin.

She nods, “I’d need your number to let you know when my appointment is.”

Harry grins, showing her the dimples he’s always kept tucked away, “I can do that.”

“Now?”

He shakes his head, “is it okay if I hold your hand a little longer?”

Y/N is quick to nod her head, making Harry breathe out a laugh at her eagerness. They fall silent once more, no longer caring about the people they came with, too lost in their own world outside the party.

“What–do you want to share your resolution?” Y/N asks with hopeful eyes but knows if he says no, she will understand.

Harry shrugs, squeezing her hand twice before shifting his eyes away from her, “don’t know if it’s a resolution, more of a wish, really.”

Y/N doesn’t push him to share. She wonders what he could want. Harry seems like the guy to have it all. His eyes meet hers again, and she flashes him a comforting smile wanting him to know he’s safe with her.

He lets out a deep breath.

“I want to kiss you,” he confesses.

Y/N can’t hide her surprise. “Harry,” she breathes out.

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable I—”

Harry shuts up when he feels Y/N place a hand on his chest. They’d never been this close. There was always a counter between them.

“I’ve never had a new year’s kiss,” she confesses, sliding her hand up to rest on the back of his neck. Harry gaining courage, slips one hand around her waist, pulling in closer, wanting no space between them.

“Can’t say I have either.” Harry knows it comes as a shock to Y/N, but he thought ringing in the new year with someone had to be special, and there’s no one more special than Y/N.

“You’d be willing to give that to me,” she asks, shocked.

Harry chuckles, “why do you sound surprised?”

Y/N shrugs. His eyes are full of curiosity. “Didn’t think you liked me.”

“Why would you say that, love?”

“Because when I tried to make conversation, you always rushed out the door.”

Harry sighs. He leans his head down to rest against hers. “Because you make me a nervous mess. You sit there in your cute jumpers complimenting my tattoos, telling me how pretty they look on me.”

Y/N smiles, feeling her cheeks heat up at the confession. “Well, you made me think I scared you off.”

“You’re the reason I keep coming back to Sunflower Ink,” he shares. “After my second appointment there, I realized you worked there, and I knew if I kept getting a new tattoo, I’d get you to compliment it after.”

She all but melts into Harry at his confession. She had no idea. He had a crush on her because Y/N felt the same way. All this time, Y/N was trying to grow her relationship with Harry. He'd rush out after leaving a big tip, knowing she got a small part of the tips because she made him nervous. Y/N didn’t think she had that kind of effect on anyone. Her brother told her she brought in customers, but she thought he was supposed to say that. Now Harry is telling her she’s the reason he goes back every time.

“You’ve never needed anyone to hold your hand,” she asks, overwhelmed with all the information Harry had shared.

“Only if you’re offering,” he replies with a cheeky grin.

“Me first,” she promises him.

“I can wait.”

Y/N stares at Harry, admiring his pretty face. When she first met him, he always liked to wear his hair in a bun, and one time he walked in with it down, a scrunchie in his hand, and Y/N thought she’d never recover. Then on Valentine’s Day, Harry walked in wearing a lavender knitted sweater with his hair cut. As Mitch quickly took Harry to his station that day, he spared her a look. She had to leave early for class, never having the chance to tell him how much she loved the new look or what new piece he was getting. She knew with a pretty face like Harry’s, he could pull off any look.

“What are you thinking about, love?”

Y/N bites back a smile at the term of endearment, “About a new year’s kiss.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry teases, “have anyone in mind?”

“Mhmm,” the smile on Harry’s face grows. “But if I were to let him be my new year’s kiss, I don’t know if that kiss would be enough?”

Harry tilts his head in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“See, I haven’t had a Valentine’s kiss or St. Patrick’s,” Harry is quick to catch on, and he’s grinning from ear to ear at what she’s proposing.

“I’ve never had a birthday kiss,” he adds.

She smiles, nodding, “when’s that?”

“February 1st.”

“That’s close. Think I’d be special enough to share that with you?”

“You’re the only one I want.”

“If I kiss you tonight, will you promise to give me your birthday kiss?”

Harry lets go of her hand, moving both to cup her face needing to be closer to her. He brings her close, their noses touching. “If you let me kiss you today, I’ll kiss you whenever you ask.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It is.”

Faintly, they can hear the countdown begin. Y/N knows what’s coming; she can feel her heart wanting to beat out of her chest, but she’s also calm because she’s excited for what the new year will bring for her.

“Three,” Harry whispers.

“Two,” she feels his breath mix with hers.

“One.”

Harry connects his lips with hers in a deep kiss. Y/N hears the fireworks going off around her, and every part of her feels like she’s exploding. He leads the kiss, and Y/N follows him, never wanting to part, loving the sweet taste of cherry on his lips.

She pulls back slowly, trying to catch her breath, opening her eyes to see Harry’s lip swollen, a cheshire grin on his face, and she knows that 2023 will be a year of kisses and tattoos.

“Happy New Year’s,” she whispers.

“Happy New Year’s, Y/N.”

Harry tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear, “can I have another kiss?”

“You can have as many as you like,” she promises.

“Might have to keep you forever, it seems.”

Y/N laughs as she feels Harry slips his arms under her (his) coat to rest on her waist. “I wouldn’t mind at all, Harry.”

“Good. Now come here.”

Y/N grins, their mouths meeting once more, getting lost in the feeling of each other. There’s still so much to learn about one another, but Y/N knows she’s got all the time with Harry.

After all, she did promise him a birthday kiss.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles story #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #fanfiction #harry fic rec #harry story #harry blurb #harry styles x y/n #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry #styles #pleasing #fine line #harry one shot #harry fan fic

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cutiebin · 11 months

Text

bf!changbin’s beige flags

these are taken from the beige flag trend on tiktok, they sounded like things changbin would do (lovingly). a beige flag is something someone does that makes you stop and question it for a few seconds before continuing

some are explicitly idol!bin but the rest can be whatever you want :)

warnings: showering together (sfw), food and eating

stealing lip balm

when he catches you applying your lip balm, he begs for a kiss. not because he wants a kiss, but because he wants to steal your lip balm.

Changbin sees you out of the corner of his eyes slathering on the menthol Burts Bees. “Gimme a kiss.” he demands, shoving his face close to yours.

“No, I know what you’re planning and I’m not falling for it this- HMPH!” before you can even finish your sentence, he grabs your face and attacks you in a kiss, rubbing his lips all over yours and stealing the lip balm you just spent all of five seconds applying. He pulls away, lips shiny and minty. You stand in place, stunned at the fact he’s managed to pull this off again.

“Thank you, sweetie!” he calls, before returning his eyes to their former position.

buying food

he won’t eat if you’re not also eating. he’d rather starve than eat alone in front of you

“I’m ordering from that new place down the road, what do you want?” Changbin calls from the kitchen.

You tell him you’re not really hungry, but he will not accept that as an answer. He feels guilty if he’s eating and you’re not, because what if you get hungry watching him and you’re too scared to ask for a bite? Or what if you are hungry and you just don’t want him to spend money on you? Besides, he doesn’t like to eat alone, he sees it as an activity that should be enjoyed with others and you’re his favourite person to eat with.

“I’m getting the pork meal so I’ll get you the chicken and we can share, does that sound good?” he’s not asking you, he’s basically telling you.

kiss toll

when you guys shower together and you need to switch places with him to get under the water, he makes you pay a kiss toll.

“Swap places with me so I can wash my shampoo out” you ask him.

“Pay up.” you give him a soft smile and place three kisses to his lips and try to move past him, but he doesn’t budge. You shoot him a confused look. “Toll’s gone up baby, it’s five kisses now.”

“It was three kisses yesterday, what happened?” you ask.

“Inflation.” he simply responded.

You sigh, although happy obliging with two extra kisses. He grins and grabs you by the waist to swap places with you.

he’s not tired

he pretends not to be tired, while in the process of nodding off

You’re sitting on the couch, you’re boyfriends head in your lap, both watching the film you chose earlier. you glance down at him, only to see him fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Are you tired, baby?” you ask him, hand combing through his fluffy hair, “Do you want to go to bed?”

“Hm?” he groans, being woken from his half-sleep. “No, I love this movie we can finish it.”

You agree to let him stay up and turn your focus back to the TV. Not even five minutes later, his breathing evens out and soft snores erupt from his lips.

“Knew it.” you giggle softly to yourself.

shower gossip

he insists on showering with you. not for anything sexual, just to talk about each others day.

he hears you preparing to shower, and asks if he can join. you almost always say yes because you know what he wants. gossip. during nighttime showers, he loves to hear about your day, and makes sure you tell you all the jokes he told his members during his day. morning showers, he likes to hear about your dreams and theorises with you about what they might mean. some of your best conversations have happened in the shower, you’ve learned more about each other in there than you ever have anywhere else.

hanging up facetime

at the end of a facetime call, he says he loves you and hangs up before you can say it back. he thinks it’s funny

“Okay baby I have to go, good luck with your show later and I’ll call you in the morning.” you tell Changbin. He was across the world about to get ready for another sold out concert, and he always video called you on whatsapp before.

“Okay, I love you, bye!” he says rapidly and quickly hangs up before you even get the chance to tell him you love him back. Seconds later, a message comes through.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #changbin #changbin fanfic #changbin fic #changbin fluff #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #changbin drabbles #changbin x reader #changbin x y/n

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thomasisaslut · 6 months

Text

Loki Laufeyson x F!Reader

Lactation — KTober

Word Count: 1k

Part Two Of: Breeding || Kinktober Day One

Includes: Lactation, Oral (F), Vaginal Fingering, Breastfeeding, Service Top Loki Laufeyson, Large Boobies!

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51010651

On Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1391144174-𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑-𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧-𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢-𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐟𝐞𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧-𝐱-𝐅-𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

You gave birth to your first child with Loki a while ago, everything has been perfect. He was an amazing father and Thor was a great uncle, they both loved your child dearly.

However, since the birth your breasts have been throbbing, yes, you know there is milk in there but that doesn’t change the fact that they ache.

Most other mothers you know produce one point five ounces every hour, but you have been producing three ounces in an hour. And usually your child is asleep so the only way to solve the problem is by using pumps, and even those don’t help. The suction covers almost all of your boob, making it hurt when pulling away.

Currently, you were sitting on the toilet—it was around three in the morning, your child and Loki both sleeping—with the breast pump attached. Tears nearly fall from your cheeks as the pump does it’s job.

“My love?” Loki looks at you from the doorframe, his shirt off, only in his boxers. His usual tamed hair messy and fluffy from the pillows of your large, kingsized bed. “What is wrong, sweetling?” He walks over and plants a kiss on your temple.

“Lokes…” The tears slip, falling down your face and onto your thighs, his thumbs begin to wipe away the teardrops. “My breasts have been producing double the amount as usual… they hurt so bad…” More tears fall.

“Shhh, my love… why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve done something to help.” Loki kneels before you, his eyes flicker to the full bottles of milk on the bathroom’s counter before back to your eyes.

“Because our child is getting enough nutrients from the milk… and what if I tried to fix it and it just stopped?” You try to come up with a reason.

A small chuckle passes his lips. “Sweetling… you know that is a low possibility, how about I try something?”

You nod, desperate for anything that will help.

Loki brings his hands to the active breast pump before slowly taking them off of your boobs—you wince from the sudden movement, he places the machine on the ground before looking at your breasts. He kisses the area surrounding your nipple before he—shockingly—takes the hardened nub into his mouth. Loki begins to suck the milk out of your boob, carefully and gently. You have to admit it feels much better than the machine.

“Loki… stop, I can’t imagine it tastes pleasant…” You whimper.

He removes his mouth from your breast, looking up at you with a smirk. “Whatever do you mean, it tastes heavenly, my love.”

Loki’s words make your cheeks flush a deep crimson. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive, sweetling.” Loki then goes back to draining the milk from your breast, sucking and licking the sensitive nub. You can’t help but feel arousal, even if the situation is odd.

“Loki… I need… need your hands.” You plea, your husband instantly complies, his index and middle finger slide into your wet cunt—you instantly clamp around his hand. “Oh… Lokes…” You moan, you look to Loki. You see his Adams Apple bobbing as he continues to suck out your milk.

“Other one… please.”

Loki kisses your nipple before he moves to your left breast, he then begins to suck out the milk there. He slides in a third finger, teasing it before he moves his thumb to your clitoris.

“I love you.” He whispers against your boob before continuing to drain it. “Our baby has the best mother in the world, in the galaxy, in entire the Nine Realms.” You moan at his praise.

Loki’s thumb applies more pressure on your clit as he continues to finger you, he moans around your nipple which only makes them grow in hardness.

“I love you too, Loki…” You whimper as he inserts another finger. “So much, past everything. And I love our child… our little family.” You smile down at him, he looks up—pale blue eyes piercing.

He pulls away from your breast, some of the milk leaks from your nipple and onto his chin, he licks it up.

“May I fuck you, princess?” He smirks.

“It might hurt…” You sound hesitant.

“Then allow me to pleasure you, sweetling.” Loki smiles then leans down further, he pulls you down a bit so your core is on display for him.

Loki leans down and kisses your sensitive nub before sucking on your clit, he withdraws his fingers from your cunt and brings it to your nipples. He teases and squeezes the right one, it instantly leaks, milk covering his hand.

“Fuck, my love… please, let me have another child with you. I love how you look right now, so perfect and beautiful.” He kisses your clit again before sliding his fingers back into your cunt.

“Oh! Loki! M-Maybe…” You moan, Loki moves his lips back to your neglected breast and sucks the rest of the milk out. He then moves onto the other boob and finishes off the milk there, you have to admit, he looks as if he was the most satisfied man in the Nine Realms.

“So pretty…” He cups your breasts. “Beautiful…” He trails his hands down your waist. “Gorgeous.” He kisses your mum-tum. “Stunning.” He moves to your thighs and plants a kiss on both. “And…” He kisses your clitoris once more. “Mine.”

“Y-Yours!” The worship was enough to make the building in your stomach release, your juices squirt against your husbands face, he instantly licks it up. The sight alone makes you want more. “Loki…” You whimper.

He shushes you with a kiss then picks you up. “I love you, my sweet princess. Let us rest… I’m sure you need it.” Loki teases with a wink.

You giggle and nod, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you… for everything.” A smile forms across your features, more tears forming in your eyes, but, now they were from pure happiness. “Most men would never do that…”

“There are no men like me, sweetling.” He smirks and lays you down on the bed before sliding in next to you. Loki’s arms hooks around you as he tugs you closer, now spooning you. “And I love you more than anything else in this entire galaxy.”

You smile against his arm, he kisses the nape of your neck and holds you tighter. “I love you too, my prince.”

#loki season 2 #loki spoilers #loki laufeyson #loki show #loki fanfic #loki series #loki marvel #loki odinson #lokius #loki #loki x reader #mcu loki #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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slutforsilverfoxes · 2 years

Note

can you do part 2 of the sierra six smut where they meet again?? I absolutely loved it !!!

A/N: Wild Child by the Black Keys is such a perfect outro for The Gray Man- I also think it’s perfect for describing Six & reader’s relationship. This fic admittedly wrote itself over the past couple of weeks, and it just kept getting longer and longer 🥲 I don’t know if I like how it progressed because I’ve finished bits and pieces of it at odd hours whilst in the hospital, but I hope y’all like it! It’s got a lil dash of every genre thrown in there (ya girl loves her flavor 👩🏾‍🍳) Also I apologize in advance if anything seems OOC for Court, I did my best but I’m still nervous about writing for him 🙈

Tags: @ejhpmarvelsimp

———

“Contact?”

“Negative,” you readjust the comm device in your ear and pull your lipstick out of your handbag, pursing your lips in the car’s rearview mirror to apply a shock of red. “Oasis is too smart for that. Just tailing for now.”

“Timeline?” your handler follows up bluntly, pulling an eye roll from you in retaliation.

“Can you speak in more than two syllables? You know, sometimes you’re the only person I speak to for weeks at a time.”

“Do you have an estimated timeline?”

You sigh, muttering out a, “Thank you,” for the technical adherence to your request before laying out the details of your proposed op. “…and that should give me the in to confirm that she’s distributing Rainbow,” you conclude. “So at least three weeks to make contact, get comfy, and catch her in the act.”

“Can we accelerate that to two weeks?”

“No,” you make a face in the mirror, grateful that the conversation is audio only. “I’m going to need a little more time to catch a soccer mom by day, cartel head by night.”

“Affirmative, Agent. Carmichael wants a status report in 72 hours.”

The line goes dead with a soft click as you mock your handler under your breath, “Carmichael wants a status report in 72 hours. Yeah? Well, Denny can suck my left tit, fucking-”

You continue grumbling as you climb out of the car and sling your purse over your shoulder before dropping your features into a bored expression and tucking a pair of stupidly expensive sunglasses into your hair- more of a statement piece than protective eyewear, really.

Snagging a shopping cart from just outside the entrance, you step into the grocery store and begin cruising down the aisles on the hunt for your target. You eventually find her by the fresh produce, judiciously sniffing limes in an apparent search for freshness. Your facial muscles twitch with the urge to frown at the odd display, but instead you suppress your natural inclination and force a smile as her gaze lifts to meet yours. She flashes her pearly whites in return, none the wiser, and you direct your eyes toward the aromatics. You don’t want her growing suspicious, and you’re fairly confident not even Oasis would have the balls to be openly dealing Rainbow in the produce section of the only grocery store in town.

She turns her way down an aisle and you toss some parsley and thyme into your cart with a shrug before easing into the parallel aisle, a soft gasp leaving your parted lips at the sight before you.

Who but Sierra fucking Six is standing in the middle of the bakery and breakfast section, arguing about the merits of chocolate versus fruit-flavored cereal with a teenage girl, a box of each dwarfed in his large hands. Having apparently relented to the young girl’s whims, he tosses both boxes in their cart before leaning against the handle as he plans out his next tactical move, easing a scrap of paper out of the back pocket of his jeans. You can’t help but follow the movement of his nimble fingers as they search his pocket, marveling over the way the denim hugs his muscular legs and the curve of his ass. Letting your gaze travel back up, heat floods your cheeks at the way his t-shirt stretches over his taut muscles, the fabric looking almost comical, the seams practically begging to be let out as they suffocate on his biceps. He smooths a hand over his goatee as he laughs at something the teen said, the movement drawing your eyes further upward. His honey-blonde hair has grown out a bit since you last saw him, still neatly trimmed but now with a few loose strands falling across his forehead. Despite physically looking the same, there’s a different air to Six. He seems almost… comfortable.

Domesticity suits him well (and somehow manages to make him even more attractive), and you find your thoughts wandering to his role in this girl’s life. Is he a single dad? Uncle? Is she his latest protective assignment?

The duo disappears in the blink of an eye and you half-wonder if your target slipped some of her product into the veggie sprinklers causing you to hallucinate. There’s no way you’re seeing Six stateside in a grocery store in the middle of Nowhere, USA after spending eight months traipsing across Europe.

Clearing your thoughts with a slight shake of your head, you catch up to your target and continue following her around the store, absentmindedly tossing grocery items into your cart and stopping to peruse the wine rack as she does the same.

An alluring mix of cologne and distinct masculine musk wafts over you sending your sympathetic nervous system into overdrive, your heart thudding against your ribcage.

Evidently you hadn’t been drugged.

“That white pairs great with a good branzino,” an all too familiar silky voice drapes languidly across your body causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin.

Without looking up, you retort, “Thanks for the advice, but I won’t be enjoying it. It’s for my boss.”

“Does your boss have a Prada purse,” he murmurs by your ear, his sheer proximity making you shiver, “because she’s looking this way.”

“I’m sure everything in this town with a pulse is looking this way,” you shoot back, still unwilling to meet his eyes.

“Then let’s give them something to look at.” You register the teasing lilt to his voice moments before his fingers are tucking under your chin, tilting your head up to press his supple lips against your own.

The bottle of wine remains in your hand as you throw your arms around his neck in an attempt to get as close as physically possible, your eyelids fluttering closed as memories of your night together pervade your senses.

“Y/N,” he growled softly, deep voice bringing you out of your reverie. You picked your head up to find his gaze locked on yours, the sight of his lust blown pupils and reddened lips causing your breath to come out in sharp pants. “Eyes on me.”

And then his mouth was on you, consuming you from the inside out and trapping you in a world of him until the only discernible word falling from your lips was his name.

“Nice to see you again, old timer,” you whisper against his lips, pulling back with a smile, finally opening your eyes and instantly drowning in a sea of blue.

“Told you I’d find you, kid,” a triumphant smirk has the audacity to grace his beautiful mouth.

“Uh no,” you hold up a finger in contradiction, glancing over his shoulder to ensure Oasis is still in sight, “technically I found you.”

“But were you looking for me?”

“Shut up,” you place your hand against his chest and shove, only succeeding in moving him a few inches but enough to ease the wine bottle into your cart. The man is more tree than human and the unbidden image of you climbing his body flashes through your mind.

“So,” he breaks you out of your lustful thoughts, leaning against your cart handle and offering you the perfect window to track your target as you talk- she’s suddenly very interested in the white wine, her eyes darting over to the two of you every so often- “what’s your boss got you up to these days?”

“Mergers and acquisitions, the usual,” you shrug easily. Murders and asset retrieval.

“New business in town?” He cocks an eyebrow out of curiosity, fingers slipping into the front pocket of his jeans before returning triumphantly with a piece of gum.

Your mouth goes dry as he wets his lips before snagging the rectangle between his teeth, torturously pulling the pink gum into his mouth bit by bit. “A colorful one,” you rasp out, subtly keying him in to your operation surrounding the quiet expansion of Rainbow.

He nods in acknowledgment, chewing thoughtfully. “So I’ll be seeing you around.” He presses a kiss to your lips, turns on his heel, and disappears in a wave of woodsy cologne, the faint taste of watermelon gum, and a parting wink thrown over his shoulder.

———

Days later you’re parked in the school carpool lane gathering intel on Oasis and her teenagers, your sedan four vehicles behind her massive SUV. You let your head rest against the cracked driver-side window as your eyes scan the parents and guardians milling about. Your eyes continue cataloguing faces as your brain checks out, thoughts drifting to your friendly neighborhood blonde-haired, blue-eyed, sinfully-tongued former partner in crime. You haven’t seen him since that day in the grocery store, and even though you’re grateful that he hasn’t been around to distract you, you can’t help but expect him to be walking along every corner you round. Although, truth be told, you’d be very surprised to see Six at the establishments that Oasis frequents.

Your mind drifts back for the umpteenth time this week to a moment you shared at HQ with Agent Miranda after you picked up your dossier for this op. “Quaint little town, nice change of pace,” she smiled as you crossed paths in the hall. Leaning forward conspiratorially, she tacked on, “Watch out for Six!”

You’ve spent one too many brain cells analyzing and overanalyzing her words- surely she meant Watch your six, and happened to mix up the idiom. But Dani was nothing if not intentional with her diction, and you swore you’d heard her correctly. If that was the case, had she and Six stayed in touch since his curious departure from the agency? Had the Sierra Six, the Gray Man, the expert silent assassin, Mister No Worldly Possessions or Connections been…asking about you?

Your passenger door suddenly flies open, the hulking form taking up space in your mind rent-free folding its way into your car, the familiar whiff of cologne forcing your coiled muscles to relax- marginally.

“Put the safety back on, cowgirl.”

“Why?” you demand, no patience for pleasantries.

“Because I like my face intact. Nails look pretty,” he juts his chin to indicate your fresh manicure, courtesy of your target’s weekly visits for fill-ins.

“No,” you refine your question coolly, retracting your trigger finger and replacing the safety on your weapon, “why are you here? In my car? Potentially blowing my cover?”

“Came to pick up my Claire, saw you,” he shrugs as if this is an everyday occurrence for two highly trained operatives, glancing at passerby and students on the sidewalk to ensure no one’s taken an interest in you two.

“Your Claire, hm?” You raise your coffee cup to your lips and take a long drag, the combination of the caffeine and heat sending your neurons buzzing.

“Kind of my niece, kind of my little sister,” he elaborates, keeping an eye out the window for her. “She’s Fitz’s niece, but y’know how our life goes,” he shrugs again, the only semblance of emotion he’ll allow himself to show. “So she’s my Claire now.”

“Court,” your lips pull into a frown and you reach for his hand on instinct, catching the subtle lift of the corner of his mouth in response. The simple gesture is enough for him to understand what you’re trying to say.

“Kid and I have a pretty good thing going here, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a lady friend in her life,” he muses softly, studiously watching the middle schoolers fly out the front doors and avoiding your gaze as if you’ll be able to see all of his vulnerabilities and insecurities in his stormy eyes.

Sensing an opportunity to break down another one of his walls, you cry out, “Why, yes, Court, I will marry you!”

He barks out a laugh and shakes his head, playfully knuckling against the soft skin of your cheek as your mouth twists into a wry smile. “Let’s start with dinner first.” He eases the passenger door open and steps out onto the sidewalk, offering you a slip of paper between his index and middle fingers through the crack of the window.

You unfold the paper to find a local address in his scrawl, calling to his retreating back, “What time?”

“Guess.”

———

You rock back and forth on your heels on the doorstep at six in the evening, a fresh bottle of the fateful white wine in your hands. The paneling detail on the front door is suddenly fascinating, allowing you to hyper-focus on anything but the nerves fluttering in your stomach. You’ve taken out corrupt diplomats, toppled drug cartels, faced some of the most dangerous men and women that the devil himself would shy away from, all by your mid-twenties, yet you’ve got butterflies in your tummy at the prospect of failing to earn a teenage girl’s approval.

Oh how the mighty have fallen.

If you’re honest with yourself, you’re not sure why you’re nervous. Operatives don’t have the luxury of falling in love and playing house. Sure, you enjoyed your time with the Sierra and the sex was incredible, but you both know that nothing more could ever come of this. Y’know how our life goes, Six himself had said, and he was damn right.

“You must be Y/N.” You lift your eyes to meet the brunette’s sharp gaze, her eyes quietly scrutinizing you as she does a subtle once over.

“You must be Claire,” you offer your hand in greeting and she shakes it firmly, all business.

She spots the floral tattoo on your shoulder and the corner of her mouth lifts in a manner matching that of her guardian, “I like your ink.” Claire cranes her neck to gaze further into the house and you hear a huff in response to her unspoken question.

“Absolutely not.”

“But-”

“Nope,” Six comes into view and pulls the door open further, beckoning you inside.

“Regretting adding that lady friend to her life?” you tease as you step through the doorway, toeing off your shoes in the corner of the foyer as Claire grumbles on about almost an adult and annoyingly overprotective.

“Not quite yet, but I’m sure we’ll get there,” he smirks at you, enjoying the way your nose scrunches indignantly in response. You follow the two of them into the dining room, your mouth immediately beginning to water at the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen. “When’s the last time you had a proper home-cooked meal?” Court asks with a smile as he places your proffered wine bottle on the table.

“Properly? Ten years, give or take,” you shrug, your voice dropping to nearly a whisper as you busy yourself playing with the hem of your shirt. You honestly can’t remember the last time you had a nice dinner with enjoyable company, not at a group home or hostel, not on a honey-pot mission, not memorizing a dossier on a shitty hotel couch while forcing down a frozen meal before heading out under the cover of night.

In a surprising display of affection that makes your chest warm for reasons you don’t have time to unpack, Court presses his lips against your temple, bringing you back to the present. “Then I sincerely hope you enjoy this one.”

“And I sincerely hope you didn’t go through all this trouble just for me.”

You follow him into the kitchen to help, taking the plates Claire passes to you from the cabinet as she quietly confides, “We definitely ordered in but someone was very particular about the menu.”

You and Six fall into a comfortable silence as Claire chats about her day, setting forks on the placemats as you gently lay the plates down behind her. You watch, mesmerized, as the blonde nimbly uncorks the sweet wine and divvies it up between your glasses. Something about setting the table together, doing such a normal nuclear family activity, humanizes the two of you, and you’re surprised that the motions have come back to you so naturally.

Six eases your chair out and you smile up at him as you take your seat. Dinner progresses with easy conversation, but then the agent in you senses the shift in the air and you know the teen is gearing up for trouble.

“So…” Claire drags out the word, flaking off a piece of the immaculately cooked fish, “how did you meet Six?”

“Work,” the two of you rush out in unison, meeting each other’s gaze across the table. Claire smirks knowingly at her guardian and Six makes a face at her in response, mouthing something you can’t quite catch.

Raising an eyebrow and looking between the two of them you ask, “Am I missing something here?”

“Don’t answer that,” he threatens playfully with a pointed finger at the youngster.

She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows, and you can’t help the grin that appears on your face from their shared mannerisms. “Are you gonna let me try the wine?”

“For the second time this evening, absolutely not.”

“Fine,” Claire smiles angelically, turning her full attention towards you. “Courtland’s been talking about you nonstop for the past couple weeks.”

He growls something unintelligible and your hand flies to your mouth, hiding your chuckle in a cough.

“Don’t choke,” Court admonishes, his tone implying that he wouldn’t be too upset if you happened to suffer for just a moment.

“Thanks for your concern, Courtland,” you simper.

“As I was saying,” Claire clears her throat to redirect your attention, a smug smile gracing her features, “some days I still can’t get more than three words out of him, but suddenly he’s thinking about you and turns into quite the conversationalist.”

“That’s interesting,” you pause to sip your wine, an eyebrow arching in Six’s direction, “because he was very vocal when we first met.”

His jaw ticks and his eyes narrow at your innuendo, and you both know you’re thinking about his low grunts and growls as he fucked you all those months ago. Nothing if not consistent, he merely grunts now in acknowledgement.

“What’s the matter, Court?” you smile easily. “Cat got your tongue?”

He clears his throat and stands from the table abruptly- a bold move considering his dick is already stiffening at the thought of your soft skin beneath his fingertips once again. “Dessert, anyone?”

“You know I’ll never turn down ice cream,” Claire grins.

You scoot your chair back from the table, gathering the plates as you stand. “I’ll come help.”

“Oh, I bet you will,” the blonde grumbles under his breath, subtly adjusting his pants as he walks to the kitchen.

You purposefully brush up against him on your way to the sink and he bites back a groan. “Do you not have work to do tonight, Agent?”

“Drug pushing mommy’s gotta sleep,” you shrug, rinsing the plates off, “and so do I.”

“Just sleep?” he murmurs in your ear, gliding his nose down the curve of your neck and pressing his body against you so you can feel the full weight of his question.

You let your head fall back with a sigh offering him better access to the sensitive skin of your neck. “Court,” it’s a whine, a plea, a gentle nudge in the right direction.

“Suspiciously quiet in there!” the teenager calls from the dining room, earning herself a low, chastising, “Claire…”

“You’re quite the daddy,” you test the waters with your compliment, relishing the way his eyes flash at the title and filing that tidbit away for later.

His gaze drops to your parted lips and he licks his own before pulling away and opening the freezer. “Vanilla or chocolate?” he asks calmly, appreciating the cold snapping him back to his senses.

“Chocolate,” you hum, unable to resist the urge to slap his ass as he’s bent over perusing the shelves. He jumps at the sudden contact and you laugh delightedly at your ability to keep arguably the world’s greatest assassin on edge. “I’m not a big fan of vanilla.”

———

Your earpiece crackles to life later that night, your handler’s tinny voice coming through with, “Where the fuck are you, Y/L/N?”

“Little,” you breathe out, “busy right now.” Court grins wickedly, languidly kissing down your nearly naked body and dragging his stubble against your sensitive skin before nipping along the meat of your thigh.

“That’s not an answer. Why is your heart rate skyrocketing?”

“Oh, y’know,” you suck in air through your teeth as the handsome devil nuzzles your folds over your panties, forcing you to bite down on your hand to avoid becoming a little too familiar with your handler. “Went for a run.”

You tug sharply on Six’s locks to get him to stop, but the feeling of your nails against his scalp serves the opposite purpose. He yanks the frilly fabric covering your core down with a vengeance and presses the flat of his tongue against your folds, your hips rising of their own accord to meet his mouth halfway.

“Do you have an update for Carmichael?”

Your eyelids flutter shut when he nuzzles your clit with his nose, darting the tip of his tongue just past your wet folds. You force your eyes open and turn your head to the nightstand, focusing on the glaring 10:17 looking back at you.

“Can I get you a report in the morning?”

“Do you want to piss Denny off?”

“God, you’re annoyingly persistent,” you huff at both your handler and the blonde between your legs looking up at you with a sinful smile. “This operation goes a lot-” your voice catches in your throat and your head drops back against the pillow as Court plunges his tongue inside you, “deeper than I initially thought.”

“Elaborate.”

“I’m getting an intimate view of her soldiers,” you rasp out, subconsciously clamping your thighs around Six’s head as he eats you out like a man possessed, fingers digging into your skin to keep you down against the bed. “Need some more time to figure out their pecking order.”

“And then you’ll infiltrate?”

“Mhm, yeah, I’m close!” You hurriedly end the connection and release the wanton moan that’s been growing in your throat throughout the infuriating conversation, enjoying the way Court growls against your pussy in response. “I was serious,” you half laugh, half cry out, “about being close, Court.”

“I can feel it,” he rumbles, “so give it to me.” And then his tongue is spearing in and out of you, mapping out your most sensitive spots, curling in the most delicious of ways, devouring you, consuming you. He splays his fingers across your stomach to hold you in place as he feasts on you, his thumb moving to trace tight circular patterns around your clit and pushing you over the edge into sheer ecstasy. You cover your mouth with your hand as his name repeatedly falls past your lips like a prayer, keenly aware of the sleeping teen just down the hall.

“You look so beautiful like this,” Court sighs almost reverently, leaning on his elbows to brush his lips against yours as he smiles down at your blissfully fucked-out face.

You let your tongue slip into his mouth and tangle lazily with his, the fact that you can taste yourself on him making you delirious with desire. Trailing your fingers down his bare back, you tuck your hands under the waistband of his pants and squeeze his ass before shoving his remaining clothing down his muscular legs. He chuckles against your mouth at the sensation as he kicks off his pants and boxers, moving to kiss along your jaw as he eases his deliciously hard cock between your folds, teasing but not yet pushing into you. “Please,” you whine out, wrapping your legs around his lower back and pressing your heels against the taut muscle there, urging him to give in, to fill you up.

You confess around a gasp, “I’ve been thinking about this for the past eight months,” as Court mercifully slots himself between your thighs. He cups your jaw and presses his nose against the hollow of your throat as he rocks against you, drawing out a whine from the very depths of your being. Your heart flutters in your ribcage as he returns his lips to your own, your tongues tangling unhurriedly in a sensuous dance as he curves his hands around your shoulders and bottoms out with each gentle thrust. You realize, somewhat terrifyingly, that this doesn’t feel like your previous encounter when you were desperate to connect with another human and feel alive again. He’s taking his time with you, kissing you like his life depends on it, gently guiding you both towards orgasm. This man is leaving a brand on your soul, and you’re suddenly glad that your life is one of solitude because, you know now with an earth-shattering sense of clarity, no other lover will ever compare to him. Your chest swells with an uncharacteristic warmth at the thought as the coil in your belly snaps and you tighten around him, encouraging him to please fill me up, Court, please.

Last time, he made you feel human; now, he makes you feel whole.

You tuck yourself against his solid form, sharing lazy kisses as you card your fingers through his hair and bask in your afterglow when you suddenly sit up with a start, something Claire said over dinner having poked through your subconscious. “How long have you been keeping tabs on me?”

He rises slowly, brushing your hair onto your shoulder and pressing kisses to your neck. “Hm?”

“Court,” you admonish softly, “how long?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” he mumbles, now nibbling along your jaw in a blatant attempt to distract you.

“Claire said you’ve been talking about me for weeks. I’ve been here for eight days. Fess up.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Oh my god,” you smack his chest with the back of your hand as another realization dawns on you and he winces playfully. “You knew I was getting this op before I did!”

He falls back onto the pillow, folding his arms behind his head to watch you put the pieces together and making you want to forego your interrogation in lieu of wrapping your legs around him once more. “Did I?”

“And,” you force yourself to focus, “you have been tracking where I am through Dani, which means I’m not crazy and she really did say ‘Watch out for Six’!”

“Did she now?”

“I’ve been trying to convince myself she said ‘Watch your six’ for longer than I’d like to admit.”

“Loud guns have been known to cause hearing loss.”

“Courtland,” you growl out, “that is such a gross breach of confidentiality.” You huff, crossing your arms before begrudgingly admitting, “But it’s also weirdly sweet.”

“In that case,” he smiles angelically, “I’ve been checking on you since you walked down that hallway in Prague.”

“You could’ve called. Emailed. Relayed a message through Dani. Sent a fucking pigeon or something.”

“Y’know, the kids call it ‘tweeting’ these days.”

“You are-”

“Hilarious? Charming?”

“Infuriating,” you grumble, tugging the bedsheet up over your body and purposefully lying down facing away from him. He wraps one arm around you and effortlessly pulls you closer, your smaller form perfectly slotting into the curve of his large body. “I don’t like you.”

“Yeah? Glad we cleared that up,” he counters easily, slipping his arm under your head and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Courtland.”

“I will forever regret telling Claire my name.”

———

You wake the next day with a smile on your face, enveloped by the slightly spicy, woodsy scent that you’ve subconsciously come to associate with a sense of security. Rolling onto your side with a groan, you find a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt neatly folded into a pile in place of Court’s body. You wash up in the bathroom before donning the change of clothes, cuffing the pant legs to fit your petite frame. Following the scent of brewing coffee, you head into the kitchen and are greeted with the sight of Court in a strikingly similar casual outfit, hovering over the stove.

“Morning,” you hum, slipping onto one of the barstools and leaning your chin in your hands.

“Good morning,” he answers over his shoulder in return, stealing the very breath from your lungs with a dazzling smile. “Clothes fit okay?”

“Okay enough,” you laugh, sticking your leg out from behind the island counter so he can admire your handiwork.

“Good,” he nods once in approval, then turns his attention back to the stove. “Got some scrambled eggs and bacon going, coffee should be finishing up.”

You hop off the stool and snag two mugs from the cabinet, filling them nearly to the brim with room for a dash of creamer and enough sugar to satisfy your sweet tooth. The two of you move as easily through preparing breakfast as you had on your mission eight months ago, the memory bringing a smile to your face. Claire joins you in the kitchen a short time later, dropping her backpack onto the stool you’d vacated earlier and sharing a smile with her guardian as he slides a plate in front of her. “You two enjoy your sleepover?”

“Hey,” Court snaps his fingers with his eyes narrowed playfully, “eat your breakfast and get your ass in the car within the next fifteen minutes, Fitzroy.”

“You’d think you’d be in a better mood this morning, Gentry,” she shoots back, a gleam in her eye as she scoops up a forkful of eggs.

“Incredible, it’s like pay-per-view,” you mutter delightedly over the lip of your mug.

“You should hang out here all the time, we’re very entertaining,” Claire offers nonchalantly, and Court turns to you with one eyebrow quirked.

“What’s this whole thing you’ve got going on?” you question, pointing to your own brow. “Does that mean you concur?”

“I was gonna offer myself, but I wanted to talk to the kid first,” he shrugs with an easy smile. “I��ve stayed in enough of the agency’s sad apartments to know that our place is a substantial improvement.”

It turns out to be much more than a substantial improvement.

Over the next three weeks, you find yourself seamlessly blending into the household, using the two of them as your cover on family outings to track Oasis and her family. You and your once impromptu partner team up again on Friday nights, going on dates at the restaurants your target and her husband frequent- and God, does the blonde clean up nicely, a simple pair of slacks, a tight shirt, and a jacket accenting his muscles in just the right places. Most days, you return from your time ingratiating yourself with Oasis’ right hand men to Court and Claire either working at the dining room table or spread out on the couch watching a movie, a spot under the blanket calling your name. Court has taken to making your coffee just the way you like it every morning (all the while ribbing you about how it’s arguably more sugar than caffeine) while you prepare three lunches for the day ahead. He waits for you to return home every evening so you don’t dine alone, and you climb into the king-sized bed together every night, sometimes exploring each other’s bodies until dawn breaks, sometimes cuddling and talking about anything and everything until you drift off to a suspiciously restful sleep.

You find yourself lulled into a level of domesticity that you could get used to, a thought that both scares and excites you to your core. It’s the closest you’ve come to being part of a family in years, and the idea of losing it when this op ends makes your heart ache with a pain you swore you’d locked away the day you joined the agency.

———

“I’ve got the popcorn!” you sing, inelegantly flopping onto the couch and tucking your legs under you with the bowl in your lap on your fourth weekend at Casa FitzGentry, as you’ve come to privately call it. Court takes up his spot next to you, Claire settling into his other side before situating the large blanket across your little group and nodding for you to scoot the snack into Court’s lap. You reach forward to press play on the remote, starting yet another cheesy heist movie that you and the former Sierra enjoy critiquing as thunder rumbles in the distance. Halfway through the film, the power flickers momentarily and you and Court share a look, his hands almost imperceptibly tightening their grip around the two of you. Claire huffs quietly, used to the agent’s slight paranoia from a life spent looking over his shoulder, but she tucks herself further into the crook of her guardian’s arm nonetheless. The rest of the movie progresses uneventfully, and Claire lets out a yawn before bidding the two of you goodnight, smiling as you both insist that she lock her door- at least for tonight.

Assured that the teen is safe in her windowless room, you and Court decide to take up residence on the couch for the night, the living room being closer to Claire than the master bedroom down the hall.

“Court?” you whisper into the darkness, absentmindedly pulling his hand into your lap and tracing random patterns along his rough palm as you watch the hallway, the former Sierra’s eyes trained on the front door.

“Hm?”

Genuine fear- not for yourself, but for the young girl you’ve come to appreciate as a friend and the closest thing you’ve got to family- roils in your gut, rearing its ugly head and reminding you why operatives don’t form connections. “I’m sorry for bringing this home.”

A flash of lightning illuminates the ranch house, and you hone in on a figure clad in all black in the hallway, your eyes narrowing, jaw setting, heart rate kicking into gear. Court squeezes your hand in acknowledgment before you part, and you creep silently down the hall, an animalistic growl escaping your throat when you recognize the door the intruder is gearing up to kick down. The point of your elbow connects with the soft flesh of his throat, reducing his shock to nothing but a soft gurgle as his hyoid bone gives way with a sickening crunch. He falls to the floor gasping for breath and you take the advantage to climb on top of his body, straddling his hips as he weakly tries to fight you off. You grab fistfuls of his shirt and bodily slam his head against the hardwood floor once, twice, three times, your breath coming in sharp intervals through your flared nostrils.

A strong pair of arms twists around your waist and you turn sharply, ready to fight for your life until a soothing, “Easy there, easy,” floats over your ears in the pitch darkness.

Your heart rate immediately starts slowing and a vague memory about a reflex in the aorta flashes unbidden through your mind from a high school science class. “I’m good,” you nod with a sniff, shaking out of Court’s grip.

“Yeah?” He flicks the hallway light on, raising an eyebrow at the crimson scene painted before you. “You usually don’t get this messy.”

“My targets usually don’t threaten my family,” you respond coolly, dragging the body away from Claire’s door before leaving to call your cleanup crew. Mind racing with tactics to accelerate your endgame and annihilate Oasis for this blatant attack, you miss the smile that flashes across Court’s face at your mention of your little crew as family.

You turn at the sound of crunching gravel as you end your call, the sight of the still-half-asleep teen splayed across Court’s back causing warmth to rise in your chest again, a feeling that’s occurring a tad too frequently for your liking around these two in particular.

Feelings make you weak, weakness makes you vulnerable, and vulnerability ends with a trip to the morgue.

Court drapes Claire along the backseat of your sedan, tucking his jacket under her head as a pillow before slipping into the passenger seat as you fold yourself behind the wheel. You take a circuitous route to your assigned rental apartment to ensure you’re not being followed, and you carry the minimal luggage Court hastily threw together as he piggybacks the teen upstairs. After getting Claire situated in the small bed, the two of you sit shoulder to shoulder on the floor at the foot of the bed as she sleeps, both your eyes and your silenced weapons trained on the apartment door.

As the first streaks of sunlight bathe the room in warm hues, Court allows himself to nod off knowing that you’ll keep his Claire safe, his head lolling against your shoulder. You press your lips to his forehead, whispering three words that you haven’t uttered in over a decade, tears welling in your eyes at the realization that you can, in fact, still feel such depth of emotion. A renewed sense of purpose grows within you as the sun rises, and by the time your two sleeping beauties awake, you’ve made up your mind.

———

“Oasis has proven herself to be a greater threat than we originally anticipated. Permission to execute.”

“Negative, Agent, we need her alive and in custody to connect the dots on the expansion of Rainbow in other areas throughout the Midwest that you’ve uncovered.”

“Terry,” you rarely address your handler directly, hoping your use of his name forces him to understand the weight behind your words, “she’s willing to go to extreme lengths to protect this operation. She sent a hitman after my- to my apartment,” you recover quickly, cursing yourself for allowing a semblance of idyllic family life to affect your judgment. How had you managed to make such a mess of things?

“Christ, Y/L/N,” his sigh crackles through your earpiece. “Any idea how your identity got compromised?”

“None,” you answer honestly, disappointed in yourself for not only failing to complete your mission cleanly, but also for putting the people you’ve come to care about at risk. “What’s the exfil plan here?”

“Y/L/N? It’s Carmichael.” Oh joy. “Proceed with the op as planned, but accelerate the execution phase to tonight. Bring her into custody and then report to HQ tomorrow morning so we can figure out how exactly you fucked this up.”

“But she knows who I am, knows what I look like.”

“Are you saying you can’t get it done?”

“No, I-” you pinch the bridge of your nose and release your breath in a slow exhale. “I’ll figure it out and report back to you when I have her detained.”

“Good girl.”

———

You slip back into the apartment just after three in the morning, peeling off your jumper soaked through with blood, sweat, and rain, slumping against the door with a sigh. After a few breaths to compose yourself, you shuffle further into the apartment and are met with Court sprawled across the small couch, his arm draped over his forehead. He mumbles something under his breath and you move closer. “What’d you say?”

“Asked if another cunt was successfully incapacitated,” he repeats, the shock of his question and impeccable memory causing an incredulous giggle to escape your lips.

“Fuck,” you hiss through your laughter, instinctively grabbing at your smarting ribs. “That bitch is lucky my directive was to have her detained. Otherwise she’d be six feet under with her boy toys right now.”

You lift his legs up, easing your sore body onto the couch before laying his legs back down across your lap. “You don’t have to go, Y/N.”

Your eyes dart to meet his baby blues, piercing through your soul in the darkness. “I didn’t say-”

“You made up your mind this morning. I could hear it in your voice.”

“Courtland,” you sigh, pushing your hair off of your sweaty face.

“Don’t government name me,” he grumbles, moving to sit up and pull your head against his chest. You’re shaking, but you can’t pinpoint whether it’s from exhaustion, fear, or a mix of both. “You’re a damn good agent, but you don’t have to be a CIA pawn for the rest of your life. You can go into private work, too.” His fingers trace a gentle pattern along your spine, encouraging you to take as deep of a breath as you can muster in your present condition.

“I haven’t done my time, haven’t helped enough people. I mean, Christ, Court, you were in the game for how many years and they still wouldn’t-”

“Hey,” he cuts off your panicked rambling with a gentle brush of his lips against yours. “You know there’s no contingency plan for people like us. You either kill the bad guys or you die trying, and that used to be good enough for me until…” He trails off, looking toward the door Claire is fast asleep behind.

“If anything, anything had happened to you two because of me-”

“I know,” he placates softly.

You lick your lips and open your mouth to speak before thinking better of repeating your confession from the morning out loud. Instead, you let Court guide your body down on top of his, snuggling against the warmth of his skin and allowing the steady rise and fall of his chest to lull you into a much needed rest. “In the morning, you’ll go to your debrief, and then we’ll figure this out,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. “And kid?” You stay quiet, trying to control your breathing despite the fact you’re sure he can feel your heart pounding through your chest in anticipation of what he’s about to say. “For the record, I feel the same damn way about you.”

#sierra six #sierra six x reader #sierra six x female reader #sierra six x y/n #sierra six smut #court gentry #courtland gentry #court gentry x reader #courtland gentry x reader #courtland gentry x y/n #the gray man #court gentry x y/n #sierra six x you #court gentry x you #court gentry x female reader

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spacemonkeysalsa · 6 days

Text

God of Ambivalence

A tiefling Artificer splits a large stone on a beach to discover a one handed-wizard inside.

Pairing - OC/Gale & Shadowheart/Lae'zel but there will be more as it goes on.

Read Chapter One on Ao3

Read Chapter Two on Ao3

Read Chapter Three on Ao3

Read Chapter Four on Ao3

Read Chapter Five on Ao3

Read Chapter Six on Ao3

Read Chapter Seven on Ao3

Read Chapter Eight on Ao3

Read Chapter Nine on Ao3

or read Chapter Nine, below

Gale discovers that during the hundred years he was inside of that stone, Mystra found at least one new chosen: a tiefling named Rolan who might be able to help.

Elion’s assignment to get food from the larder grew more involved as Master Faydor and the stranger, called Erakis, got to talking and hit it off. In another hour Erakis was cooking up a meal for them, using the blacksmith’s forge in a very unconventional way, as he listened to Master Faydor’s stories and laughed so loudly it echoed around the courtyard. Shadowheart and Lae’zel emerged from their conversation as the sun got high. Master Faydor suggested they make their announcements with the meal.

Gale looked like a new person after a bath and a change of clothes. He had Elion knot the end of his sleeve for now, after applying fresh bandages to the stump. The wizard hadn’t exaggerated. He did clean up nicely. “I don’t suppose there’s any way I can gain your respect back after all that?”

“Why wouldn’t I respect you any longer?” Elion asked, genuinely concerned, but more than anything, distracted. There was a pink hue to Gale’s skin that looked rather nice on him. He tried not to dwell too much on any implications. Blushing was a collection of blood under the skin and it was a good sign, more than anything, because Gale’s skin had so recently been bloodless and gray. That was all.

Arabella was deep in conversation with Shadowheart’s direwolf, and the clowder of cats. She dismissed Shadowheart with a wave of her hand when the cleric tried to summon her over.

“She’s not hungry,” Shadowheart informed Master Faydor.

“Nonsense!” Master Faydor protested, “even inscrutable weave-touched waifs need protein. Mr. Erakis certainly knows his way around a cookstove… forge.”

Lae’zel and Xan hung back near the entrance of the sanctum. Their conversation looked tensed, though perhaps not as involved as that of Arabella and her council of nocturnal predators. Elion watched them without reading a single word that fell from their lips, but he thought he knew the conversation well. It was one he’d had with his own parents a few hundred times.

“I disapprove of the things you do,” Lae’zel might say.

“I know and I do care but it will not change the things I do,” Xan would probably respond.

“Then suffer my disapproval.”

“I will.”

As Elion watched their exchanges grew faster and more heated, then they cooled and slowed. Then they finally stopped. Xan stooped down and kissed his mother quickly on the forehead, clearly enjoying how very annoyed she looked in response. The two of them finally came to join the rest of the group, as Master Faydor had everyone prepare a plate.

They ate in silence, gathering clouds overheard darkening the land, though the forge still had an ember glow to keep them warm and undulate a bright shimmer against their faces.

Shadowheart wasn’t eating much. Elion caught her passing more than a few pieces of meat to the cats that had abandoned Arabella. That particularly lovely white one lounged under her chair, stalking.

“We have an idea,” Elion decided that he might as well broach the subject, if no one else was going to say anything, “About, what to do for Gale.”

“What to do with Gale,” Lae’zel qualified.

“Rolan, of Ramazith’s Tower,” Elion shot Gale a glance, but the wizard seemed just fine to let him speak. He wasn’t eating much either. “We thought maybe, given his expertise…”

Again, Shadowheart and Lae’zel responded by looking at each other.

“Oh Gods,” Lae’zel sighed.

Xan was grinning, he looked up and snagged Elion’s eye, “he’s an old friend, and I’m sure my mothers are quite embarrassed that they didn’t think of him.”

“We hadn’t really gotten around to discussing how we might help,” Shadowheart admitted, “we were still rather mired in the question of whether we ought to or not.”

“I’d sooner say that we’ve done enough already and leave you to pursue your future without further interference." Lae’zel looked directly at Gale, but in spite of her harsh words, her face had softened somewhat. “Whether or not we bear any responsibility towards you, Rolan isn’t a wholly terrible option.” She looked rather displeased with herself as she admitted this. “We could perhaps make an introduction, in twenty-five words or less.”

“Why yes,” Shadowheart seemed pleased that Lae’zel had suggested it, “that would hardly be any trouble at all.”

“Ramazith’s Tower?” Erakis spoke up from his perch. He’d settled himself comfortably on one side of the forge, lying on his side and propping his head up with one hand, while he fed himself with the other. Elion hadn’t really gotten a very good look at him up close before, so he hadn’t appreciated just how large the man was. It wasn’t just his considerably stature or his broad shoulders. His features all seemed wide. It wasn’t unattractive in the least, but it was noticeable. Even his eyes seemed a touch too far apart, his mouth broad, his fingers twice the girth that would have seemed normal.

There was also something strangely familiar about him, but Elion couldn’t quite place it.

“That means you’ll be headed to Baldur’s Gate then?” he swirled his wine before he downed it.

“Seems the best heading,” Gale nodded. “I can't very well linger here,” the way he said it made Elion think he wanted to add something about not being welcome, but was too polite to just come out and say it.

“You should join me,” Erakis pushed the rest of his plate towards the white cat, who was approaching with a curious sniff. “I’m meant to meet up with a friend in the mountain pass. A tiefling ranger who said I could use a portal to get into the city. It should shorten the journey by a tenday or so.”

“A portal? Out here?” Elion balked. If he’d known he could have portaled to or from the city that would have made coming out here for the apprenticeship a lot easier.

“Not well known, and she usually charges a small fortune. But she likes me, and she owes me a favor. She’ll be more than fair.” Erakis tentatively reached out to pet the cat, but the creature darted away, startled by his sudden movement.

“Sounds promising,” said Shadowheart, “I’ll tell Rolan to expect you.”

“You won’t accompany them?” Xan asked, keeping his voice low enough that Elion was sure he’d only meant for his mothers to hear him.

“Lae’zel is right,” Shadowheart told Xan firmly, “we’re not as young as we used to be, we need to pick our pursuits more carefully. I’ve already got this sanctum to see to, and besides—we’ve done enough.” She didn’t sound entirely convinced or convincing, but Xan didn’t try to argue with her, only watched her with a slight frown.

“Chk,” Lae’zel furrowed her brow at her wife, “I didn’t say anything about our irrelevant ages!”

“You want to go with them to see Rolan?” Shadowheart challenged.

“Absolutely not,” Lae’zel hissed, “he’s been insufferable ever since Mystra made him her Chosen.”

“So just these last hundred years or so?” Shadowheart asked playfully.

“Precisely,” said Lae’zel with a snarl.

Gale curled into himself, setting his food down. His face had gone very peaked, very fast.

“Are you alright?” murmured Elion.

In response, Gale lifted his arms to his face, in a gesture that appeared entirely instinctual and futile, like he’d meant to cover his face with both hands, only to remember there was only one left. He looked like he might be ill.

“Shadowheart—I think he—”

“No,” Gale snapped. “I’m fine,” he softened, “I’m fine. It’s nothing.” He exhaled slow, and even, eyes closed. Then he picked up the bottle of Waterdeep whiskey that Elion had found for him in the kitchens and took a generous swig.

At least he finally had something in his stomach.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 gale #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #god of ambivalence #bg3 fanfiction

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