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angelicspaceprince · 2 years

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A Lesson in Discretion

Author: Toby

Title: A Lesson in Discretion

Pairing: Zhongli/Reader/Childe

Character/s: Zhongli, Childe, Reader

Word Count: 4, 524 words

Warnings: Smut (18+ Only Please!), BDSM including Dom/Sub dymanic, cockwarming, brat!Childe, sort of switch!Childe (I really don't know how to describe him in this, he's a shit though), dom!Zhongli, sub!reader, orgasm denial, orgasm control, overstim (for both Childe and reader), squirting, oral, rough sex, praise kink, size kink, dirty talk, mentions of Zhongli's dragonic tongue, threesome, established relationship, PWP.... there may be more, if I've missed a big one, please let me know!

Tags: N/A

Prompt: All Zhongli wanted to do was tell you about his latest find, but alas. Thanks to Childe's earlier antics, things just seem to derail.

Basically, Zhongli catches you cockwarming Childe, y'all fuck. That's it. That's the fic.

Notes: Basically....I'm a whore for cockwarming and Zhongli and Childe so I. I. Yes. This is a result. I'm also a whore for shitposting so like. There is a lil bit of that in here too. Sorry?? - Also there are some phrases written in Russian and Chinese (sentence was written via Google Translate so if anyone here speaks Russian and it's wrong, sorry about that?) but the rough translations are available at the bottom of the fic. Reader uses they/them pronouns the little they are used in this fic, but have AFAB body parts.

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A Lesson in Discretion

Tonight, however, was different. There was no peppering of the face with his lips, no soft words of praise for taking his cock so well, no small flicks to your clit just so he can feel you clench and hear your mewl.

Instead, you were stuck with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you both listened to Zhongli drone on and on about a rare fossil he had managed to find on one of his many long walks throughout the more rural parts of Liyue.

You loved your boyfriend, you truly did, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you felt like you were splitting at the seams, you would have listened more to his little lecture. But right now? All you wanted was for Zhongli to leave so Childe could move already .

But this fucker, this fucker keeps asking questions about this small find. Zhongli just appeared happy to talk about his little fossil, completely oblivious to what was happening under the blanket currently laid across your lap. You and Childe often cuddled in such a state, so this was no different in his mind.

“Fascinating.” His voice is too calm for a man who is rolling his hips up against you, clearly enjoying the sight of you struggling to not let Zhongli know what he was doing to you, your lip being tightly held between your teeth. He only stops when Zhongli turns back to face you. “Tell me, xiansheng , how does this one compare to the fossilized bone shard you found last week?”

You want to slap him as Zhongli’s eyes all but light up as he turns to collect the fossil he found during one of his many long and solitary walks around Liyue. The thought completely leaves your head, however, the second that Zhongli takes a step away and Childe takes that opportunity to roll his hips up into you, not giving you a chance to prepare as he forces a barely stifled moan from your lips. Hopefully, Zhongli is so far gone into his little world of fossils that he perhaps missed the sound completely.

Unfortunately, Zhongli pauses at your moan, slowly turning to look back at the pair of you still huddled up on the couch. “Are you alright, dearest?” His voice is laced in confusion as he sits back down.

You can feel Childe’s amusement radiate in waves from behind you as you struggle to come up with an excuse. “Cramps.” You say with a tense smile, hoping that his naturally protective nature wouldn’t rear its head this time around.

Zhongli’s face twists into one of concern, hating the idea of you being in pain. “Perhaps we need to take you to Bubu Phar-”

“No!” Your sudden shout causes Zhongli to pause and Childe to snort into your shoulder. You take a breath, sending Zhongli a small smile, your face flushed from embarrassment and the need to just get off already . “It’s okay, love. It’s over now.”

Childe moves to rest his chin against your shoulder, staring Zhongli down, enjoying the tension in the room. “I’m not sure, malysh. ” He purrs softly. “Perhaps we should find the cause of these….cramps. They’ve been happening all morning.”

Zhongli continues to stare at your flushed face and Childe’s mischievous smile before he stands, leaving the small stone that had him completely absorbed into the history it represented behind and slowly makes his way to the pair of you, his face completely unreadable. Childe’s hands grip at your hips excitedly, and you can feel him pulse from deep inside of you when your partner stands in front of you.

Zhongli takes in your form once more, a small smile appearing across his face before his hands reach out to cup your face, tilting you up towards him as he leans down to press a kiss against them. Slowly, he works your mouth open, his inhumanly long tongue snaking its way in until it rests heavily in your throat, the act causing you to groan at the intrusion as you suck around the appendage. It was a unique way of kissing that only Zhongli could get away with, the way he would gently fuck your throat with nothing more than his tongue and the way he would hold your face trapped between his large, gloved hands cause you to melt every single time.

You could feel Childe grow restless from beneath you as your impromptu make-out session with Zhongli kept on going until finally, the older man moves to break the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as his thumbs brush over the swell of your cheeks. “Next time-” he rasps, “-I expect an invitation.”

Childe laughs softly from behind you, giving up the charade completely as he starts to roll his hips up into you, your eyes rolling back slightly when finally you feel him slide against your stretched out walls. “Never should have expected to get this past you, huh, Zhongli?”

His only response is a hum before pressing a lighter kiss against your lips as Childe’s thrusts become harder, causing small grunts and groans to leave your throat. “Perhaps you both need a lesson in discretion.” He teases as he pulls away the thin, silk blanket, allowing it to slide to the floor with little regard as his gaze is instantly drawn to the sight of your pussy being stretched so perfectly by your shared lover, his cock having just been pulled out from his sweatpants so you could warm him properly. You, on the other hand, were bare from the waist down, your pussy spread and shining with a mix of juices, your thighs glistening with your slick, and your puffy little clit standing alone, begging for attention. The sight alone had Zhongli purring. “Or perhaps not. Otherwise, how else would I be able to see these wonderful performances?”

“Zhongli, we-” Your words are cut off by yet another kiss, one just as deep and as distracting as the first. It’s not until you feel Childe’s fingers dig in the bend of your knees that you realise that he’s repositioned you, your legs now spread obscenely wide to provide Zhongli with a better view, your limbs being supported and trapped by Childe’s strong hands, your thighs now pressed firmly to your chest. His movements have become rougher, faster, almost feral . That’s just how sex was with Childe, it was there to lay claim. And there was never a time that you didn’t feel completely and utterly owned by him after he had his dick inside of you.

You’re so distracted by Zhongli’s lips and Childe’s hands and dick that you fail to remember that the consultant also had a pair of hands. The leather of his gloves trails down your skin so lightly that you barely feel it until his deft fingers brush against your clit, causing a gasp to fall into his mouth, whining when his wonderfully long tongue is removed from your throat.

“So sensitive.” He teases, fingers slowly moving to rub at your little nub, a whine being your only response. “And so wet - are you always like this, dearest, or is this a special treat just for us?”

Childe huffs against your ear as Zhongli returns to swallow down your pitiful whines. “This little whore? No, you’re always wet and ready for any cock to fuck itself into your little hole, aren’t you sweetheart?” He laughs at your reaction, a soft moan and a furious, tiny shaking of your head at his words doing well to contradict each other. “No? I think your slutty, little mouth is telling lies again, kukolka .”

Zhongli pulls back with a soft sigh, you whining at the loss of him overwhelming your mouth, his still gloved hands never-ending their gentle assault to your clit. “Even if you deny our lover’s words, baobei , this part of you will always remain truthful.” You whimper as his long fingers dip down to trace around your stretched cunt, your muscles twitching in anticipation of further intrusion, of an even larger stretch that is never to come. When he pulls his fingers back, they are coated with your slick.

“Zhongli-” you whimper, your denial dying on your lips when your senses are flooded with the taste of salt and leather, Zhongli’s fingers resting heavy against your tongue as he shushes you with a smile. It was too calm, too charming, considering the circumstances.

“It’s alright, little gem.” He is quick to reassure, slowly beginning to drop down to his knees in front of you, your stomach clenching in anticipation. What was he planning on doing? “We’ll get the truth out of you.”

You don’t get a chance to ask him what he means before you find out exactly why he had moved to his current position.

You curse under your breath as your head leans back to rest against Childe’s shoulder as Zhongli’s ever talented tongue starts to lap at your clit, causing little whines to leave your throat - much to both of your lovers’ amusement. Your hands move to thread through Zhongli’s soft hair, threads like silk sliding smoothly between your fingers as you try to hold on for dear life as broken moans of his name leave your lips.

A deep rumble of a chuckle vibrates against your back as Childe leans down to press his lips against your pulse point, making sure to drag his teeth against the sensitive skin just to hear another whine fall from your lips. “Is he making you feel good, hm? Takaya khoroshaya malen'kaya shlyukha dlya nas 1 , aren’t you?”

His hips don’t let up their rough pace, causing liquid heat to run through your veins and warm your core to the point it felt like someone had placed the gem of a pyro vision inside of you. He doesn’t slow even as Zhongli moves to slide his tongue inside of you, curling around Childe’s cock in a way that has both of you keening at the sensation as a leather-clad hand moves to rest against your stomach, thumb beginning to gently stroke at your clit. “AJ- ‘Li-” is all you manage to get out as you feel Childe’s teeth press firmly against your flesh again and again, leaving the groundwork for bruises to form in their wake.

You feel the way Zhongli’s tongue is almost stroking up and down Childe’s length, the way his thighs clench as he holds back groans of the ex-Archon’s name, his words being replaced with nails biting into your skin and whimpers from the Harbinger. Finally, he manges to gasp out a small “Li-” just as you feel his tongue brush up against the tip of Childe’s length from inside of you.

Zhongli’s eyes glow like freshly mined cor lapis when they flicker upwards to meet both of your desperate gazes. “Won’t last long if you keep doing that.” Childe barely gets out, having stopped his thrusts to try and focus on not finishing too soon.

You can feel Zhongli’s smirk as he slowly unravels his tongue from around Childe’s cock. “My apologies.” Is all the man says before diving back in, now leaving Childe alone to solely focus on you, his tongue stroking along your now sensitive walls as Childe slowly begins to collect himself and pick the pace back to its previous brutal assault to your still drenched cunt.

You are so lost with the mix of sensations coming from your lower half that you don’t register that your shirt has slid up your chest until Childe’s warm hands cup at your tits, fingers moving to play with your nipples with just as much ferocity as his hips slamming into your abused pussy. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your chest thrusting out towards his hands as you silently beg for more, the only sound coming from your mouth being broken moans and the occasional attempt of calling out one of their names. “So pretty like this-” Childe’s breathless voice finally fills the room that was only occupied by the slick sounds your cunt was making and your shared groans of pleasure. “So pretty when you take me and xiansheng like this- do you think you could take both of our cocks one day? We could spend all day in bed with you keeping us warm and when you finally have had enough and break, begging for us to fuck you like the little slut you are, we will make sure that you scream out names for the entirety of Liyue Harbor to hear-”

“For a man currently- uh- getting fucked,” you somehow manage to sass between panted breaths and small grunts, “you sure do talk a lot.”

You can feel Childe’s grin as he tugs at your nipples to the point of near discomfort. He was always good at toeing dangerously close to the edge of pleasurable pain and pure agony. “Our attention not good enough for you, kukolka? ” He says, his voice sounding awfully pouty. “I suppose that means we ought to try harder, isn’t that right Zhongli?”

The purr coming from Zhongli’s throat ripples through your body, causing you to roll your hips towards him as your eyes roll into the back of your head. You’re dangerously close - from all the teasing Childe had provided, the attention you were now receiving - it was not surprising how close you were to falling off that edge you love so much.

But it wasn’t just heat that was pooling at your core, it was pressure. One unfamiliar and somehow addictive as you feel your body tense in preparation. You barely have time to prepare your lovers before, finally, the heat explodes, causing you to arch yourself against Childe’s chest, your hips rolling over his cock and into Zhongli’s mouth to the best of your limited ability, your throat locking in a silent cry as you feel yourself shake under Childe’s hold.

It’s not until the static that fills your ears slowly simmers away and the overwhelming, thundering heat turns into a more pleasant, warm hum that you realize that everything had stopped. Had Childe- no, no it didn’t feel like he finished.

You look down to try and see what was the cause of the sudden pause when you feel that little core of heat beginning to rebloom in your stomach.

Zhongli was staring up at you in shock and in awe, Childe silent as he stared at the same scene from over your shoulder. The immaculate look he always wore had changed, his suit slightly rumpled from your activities, his hair was beginning to loosen from his usual hair tie, the strands moving to frame his face and cascade down his back. A normal sight, given the activities he was participating in.

What wasn’t a normal sight, was the image of his jaw dripping in….something clear, something slick, something that had Zhongli licking his lips for just another taste.

Wait.

“Did I-”

Childe groans when you finally break the silence. “You did .” Is all he can purr out as the pair of you watch as Zhongli’s flushed face moves to press against your now overly-wet thighs. “You squirted all over our favorite consultant like it was nothing.”

You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I’m so sorr-”

“No need to apologize.” Zhongli reassures against your skin, lips leaving gentle kiss after gentle kiss against your still twitching and sensitive skin. “The sight was rather lovely.”

“It was fucking hot.”

“As always, Childe, you have a wonderful way with words.”

“Do you think you can do it again?”

Suddenly, both pairs of eyes are very firmly on you as you try to stutter out a response. “I- I don’t know-”

Zhongli hums. “I believe, baobei , that there is only one way to find out.”

Before you have a chance to protest, to say that you’re still recovering, everything returns to its previous pace, with Zhongli’s hands keeping your thighs pressed firmly around his head as he all but devours you whole and Childe’s mouth never leaving your neck, making sure every inch of your skin was bruised to his liking, his hands claiming every other inch of skin that they can as he works himself into you. It’s like your brain has completely shut down, and the only thing you can focus on is the almost painful pleasure radiating up your entire body.

Time loses all meaning as everything blurs together as you feel your partners’ try to get you to fall over the edge in their arms once more. Their words blend into one continuous sound of praise and grunts. It’s not until you hear Childe’s breath begin to stutter and a small laugh leaving his throat that you realize that his tempo had begun to decrease, his thrusts sloppy. “Close-” He warns, only for his words to be cut short by a small whimper.

Zhongli’s eyes glow from between your thighs as one of his hands move to circle around Childe’s cock, his hand repositioning itself to keep your thighs wrapped tightly around his head. “Not yet.” His command rumbles through your too-sensitive pussy as the joint feeling of vibrations and the all-too-familiar sensation of geo energy pulsing at your entrance makes you whine in realization of what he had done. “You made a promise, Ajax. And when you make a promise-”

Childe nods, eyes screwed shut as he tries to recover from the sudden formation of the cockring made from pure geo wrapping around his base. “-you keep it.” He gasps out.

“Exactly.” That too-content purr makes its way up to your core as Zhongli rebegins his assault.

It didn’t take you long to feel that pressure return, the constant assault on your clit and against your still recovering walls, Childe now moving at a much slower and steady pace to make sure you feel every inch of stretch he has to provide and that constant pulsing from that fucking cockring was all it took for you to release against Zhongli’s face once more, your squirming much more apparent and intense as your nerves prickle with overstimulation.

“Good job, qin'ai de .” You can feel the cocky grin that the ex-Archon was trying to hide against your skin, his face covered in your slick once more. “Can you do one more for us?” He chuckles when you groan at the thought, your body already alight with electro as you try to recover. “It’ll be alright, little gem. We’ll catch you if you fall.”

He waits until you nod, your body finally simmering down until the heat is back to that nice, gentle hum before his tongue begins to tease your clit, his fingers slowly sliding into your already stretched heat. Your hands move back to grip his hair tightly, all but tugging them from the roots as he crooks his fingers to press against the abused spot inside of your fucked out cunt. Even Childe whines pathetically at the suddenly tightened sensation as you clench around him. He had long since given up trying to fuck up into you, having moved to bounce and grind you on his cock slightly as to not disturb the man between your legs. “Please-”

“Soon.” Zhongli’s words come more as a warning than a promise, causing Childe to whimper as he tries his hardest to continue on. You’re sure his dick must hurt, but if you were completely honest, you were a little too preoccupied with what was going on with you than to focus on Childe’s troubles. “Get our little one to orgasm once more, and then I’ll grant you your release.”

Like a man possessed, Childe picks up the pace for the final time, his face buried against your bruised neck as his hands move back to your hips, grinding you down against him again and again to meet his thrusts. Zhongli had given up on attempting to stay attached to your clit, instead simply using his thumb to stroke it gently as jolts of what can only be described as ‘too much’ works it’s way up your spine, his fingers never leaving their place buried deep inside of you. Zhongli’s free hand has moved to grip your thigh tightly, forcing you to be spread and on display for his viewing pleasure as he watches Childe continue to fuck up into you, chasing your release so he can be granted his own.

Childe chants in your neck, a jumbled mess of ‘please’, ‘cum’, ‘I love you’ and ‘please just fucking cum ’ is all you can hear within the wet slaps of your body meeting his. You’re positive his pants are saturated in sweat and slick, but that is something you can’t seem to find the energy to care about as you are forced closer and closer to that blasted edge that had quickly become your enemy.

“Hurts-” you manage to slur out. “Too much-”

“You can handle it.” Zhongli’s words hit you like a runaway wagon and yet seem to steady you like one of his stone pillars. The weight behind those simple words is enough to cause you to relax slightly. Zhongli wouldn’t let it get too far, he wouldn’t hurt you - whatever he gave you, you could handle. It had never gotten beyond that point with him before, and it wouldn’t now. “Just a little more, little one. Do you need to use your word?”

You shake your head. You can do it. You can handle it. Zhongli knows you better than most, and he knows your body better than most. And if you needed out, you had a way out.

You can do this.

With that tiny piece of encouragement, you feel yourself begin to break as you arch yourself against Childe’s chest for the last time, a wordless cry your only warning as you jerk in Childe’s hold. You can vaguely sense that the geo that had been assaulting your entrance had disappeared, but the true tell was the thankful moan that radiates against your back.

One thrust. Two thrusts. Three.

With a groan of the word ‘fuck’, you feel Childe pulse from inside of you, the warmth of his spent painting your insides as he bottoms out, wanting to push his cum as deep inside of you as possible as you feel yourself clench around his too-sensitive cock as you come down from your high, his lips mouthing warm and reassuring kisses against your pulse points. The both of you barely notice the sensation of Zhongli pulling his hand away, nor him moving to grab the blanket to wipe his face and hands clean of your mess. None of that mattered. All that mattered was the sudden onset of fatigue as your body protests the marathon it had suddenly been forced to run.

You can feel Childe continuing to spill inside of you, your body boneless as you sag against him as he shudders and sighs throughout his orgasm. Your eyes flutter shut, feeling your nerves protest at any light touch when Childe tries to help you come out of your foggy headspace.

You barely feel a hand reach up and cup at your cheek before moving to pinch at your chin. You don’t register your head being tilted on your behalf until the sensation of slick lips against yours pulls you back to a state of semi-awareness as you taste the salt of your release against your tongue.

The kiss isn’t as heated as before, Zhongli keeping his now very human tongue well away from your throat as he teases you gently by simply toying with you sweetly, making sure you taste every drop of slick he has left to offer you.

Eventually, Zhongli pulls back to rest his forehead against yours, mimicking the soft moment the pair of you shared before this little unplanned rendezvous took place. “How do you feel, baobei ?” His low voice rumbles from his chest, providing you with a sense of calm and something to center on as you struggle to bring yourself back to the present.

“Did we go too hard?” The once sadistic voice of Childe is now riddled with concern as he looks over your fucked out expression. “ Malysh -”

“M fine.” You slur out as Zhongli slowly starts to stand, the outline of his hardened length straining against his slacks very much present as he does so. Instantly, you reach out, ready to return the favor, only for his hand to reach out and gently grasp yours. You whine in response, wanting to make him feel as good as he made you feel.

“It’s okay, baobei. ” He reassures. “Next time.” He says with a smile at your pouting.

“Wanna be good for you.” You whine lightly, causing him to chuckle lightly.

“You were so good for us.” He praises, his lips brushing against your forehead. “You took us both so well and gave us such a lovely show, my darling. You behaved for both of us and allowed Ajax to use you just how we like without complaint - what more could I ask for?”

You can practically hear Childe’s pout from behind. “Hey- you make it sound like they did all the work!” He complains loudly, much to the amusement of your fucked-out self. “What about me, didn’t I do any good?”

Zhongli’s eyes sparkle in amusement as he leans down past your shoulder, his hand tugging on Childe’s chin to pull him into a gentle yet some-what heated kiss. “You did very well also, taking care of our little one here and, unless I’m wrong in my assumption, you orchestrated all of this so I would catch you and these events would play out according to your plans, correct?”

Childe practically beams as he rests his chin against your shoulder. “Perhaps.” He teases as you make a weak attempt to slap his thigh in annoyance. Of course it was all to his plan. Doesn’t get caught - well, he gets to see you all worked up and flustered for a few hours. Does get caught - well, you now know what his plans were if that was the case.

“Asshole.” You grumble out as you reach up to Zhongli, wincing as Childe finally slips out of you as Zhongli lifts you with practised ease.

“You love me.” Childe teases as he stands and tucks himself away before stretching with a loud, content sigh. “I’ll get started on the bath?”

Your small nod is the only answer they get, Childe pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before murmuring a soft ‘I love you’ before leaving the room.

Zhongli sighs as he moves to follow. “It’s a shame, really.” At your quiet, inquisitive hum he continues. “I was really looking forward to showing you the difference between those two fossils.”

Translations: 1 - Such a good little whore for us Baobei - baby Malysh - baby Kukolka - doll Qin'ai de - my love

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sugar-petals · 2 years

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boyfriend!KAI HAVERTZ: d u a l i t y (m.)

↳ ⎡ a chaotic headcanon all about kai’s sweet and sexy sides. 🌿

# word count. 7.9k

☼ genre. established relationship au, fluff/humor, smut

WARNINGS. ⚠️ hurt and comfort, x fem!reader, mature themes + explicit language (minors dni), romance mixed with thirst & possessiveness lite, oral sex: both receiving, pretty boy/prince kink (oof), sub!kai if you squint, brief mentions of alcohol and online harassment, body shaming

♡ 【ＮＯＴＥ】› every now & then i emerge from my cave to write for the sports fandom. i usually create football intro posts, today it’s plot and banter ✍️ featuring guess who: the supermodel incarnate. a handsome mf too fascinating not to create a detailed universe about (yep, sit back and snack a pretzel). since this football season couldn’t be any more stressful - holy hell 💀🤕 - here comes the soft!kai wholesomeness, some juicy nsfw distraction while we’re at it, and a big portion of unhinged crack. in that sense, hope this has something entertaining for everyone. enjoy!

read on AO3

being constantly head over heels for each other is your couple energy. my goodness me, the reaction of your friends is absolutely tell-tale. they’re either going ‚aww… never seen anything like this‘ or ‚oh my god just get a room, ye freakin’ lovebirds!‘. it’s always either-or, which is where the dual nature of the whole relationship already shows. it radiates the ultimate comfort, but also… hell yeah, electrifies. that just can’t get boring. the topic of having two sides of a coin is pretty much the red ribbon of kai and you being together, and there’s a lot to say about it.

kai is a model boyfriend in every meaning of the word. a textbook cuddly romeo slash elven king /and/ an actual model stunner (geez, all that body — he’s just a masterpiece). oh, lucky you. but, even if you’re always glued to one another, you are also decisively independent people by the sheer force of irony. this goes down at the flick of a switch to suit your individual needs. kai is always in the know. you figured out in mere weeks just how to respect each other’s me zone. you’re the type to run around attached at the hip with a couple scarf at the christmas market, but also stray apart for your own business all the time when needed. makes for a nice balance. no pressure, but also no sense of feeling desolate.

if you crave your alone time, your tall ass babe — who’s really good at picking up on those things — is suddenly busy with training, paperwork, or dozing off for days like he’s now sleeping beauty. cute, pretty, gorgeous, lovely, showstopping, never done before. that way, you can live out your hermit fantasy the way you want. going feral in nature, driving your bike around anywhere, or wrapping yourself into a blanket burrito to just live online for days and days. he won’t bother you. kai himself is the type to seek retreat for healing time with his animals, you’re similar in that regard. his social media is switched off for a day or two, the phone’s for emergencies: just for him to return back home with some hay in his hair, ready to be obsessed with each other all over again.

from the outside, this might seem like an on-and-off process to a perfect stranger, but it isn’t. you really yearn for one another in the distance, and never really part for longer than a week. if possible, with a schedule of that scale. the separation being involuntary… is a different thing. repeated away matchdays without you attending the stadium are hell for needy kai who’s gonna be in a terrible unkissed mood walking and talking and looking like he morphed into some kind of lovesick robot with the exterior of kai lukas havertz. the poor lil’ babycakes honestly, he doesn’t deserve that. his teammates are always gonna hear one sentence. i miss my girlfriend, i feel so bad. it’s common knowledge that he’s perfectly capable of being a productive citizen, but the no-gf days just put his brain into a blender. you do your best being patient and send pics of you nestled into his jerseys, or random memes to bridge the time. it helps for an hour, but not a whole weekend. when germans are feeling all alone, they turn into tragic broken 18th-century poets that ran out of ink. it’s the great havertzian existential crisis, oh boy.

this shit’s gonna eat him up from the inside. you have to be with each other in person. other people around him will also start to feel the longing as if it’s their own. kai is definitely wiping away some tears when he’s switching off the light by himself in a random hotel room. dizzy from jetlag and his body hurt, he then so painfully realizes again and again how it’s precious time lost with you. if he’s not already on video call, your woeful honey boy looks through his camera roll three times a day just to see you smile or prank him for breakfast, announcing you will stan fc cologne. every picture you drop on socials is a holy grail. without his gf brainrot, kai simply cannot function. truth is, he feels incomplete when there’s no ongoing comments to sincerely tell him he’s so sweet and pretty an obnoxious amount of times a day. at least ten times. sixty is your record. forty to go. you know the drill. records exist to be broken.

and don’t think you’re the only one, showering him with compliments like that. kai is always the first to interact — even when he’s on pitch getting axed by yet another witless defender, your man carries his phone in the other hand retweeting your latest one-liners. he often types out a whole emotional paragraph but deletes it before hitting send. kai’s gonna say it to you the next time you’ll sleep with each other (which is always under the category ‚very soon‘, so don’t worry). instead, his messages are to the point. he knows heart emojis you didn’t even know existed. this man is a walking notification squad, he’s whipped, he hypes you up, he needs you, he’s fanboying 24/7, he will do anything for his queen. if you asked him to volley kick none other than break-iano phone-naldo into the rings of neptune to forever keep him floating there for the sake of mankind, he will do it. and yes, he smiles and coos at his screen so unapologetically like he’s reading fluff on ao3. post some pics cuddling the dogs? he’s blowing up your devices with likes and excited yelling in two seconds.

and meanwhile, in your world: everyone in your social environment is gonna be bombarded with the ‚i miss my idiot so much, why is he not here‘ faces of yours on the regular. even if you don’t say it out loud, everybody knows. it’s incredibly obvious to all your friends that the lack of your favorite cuddle bug’s presence has left one giant spiritual void. at home, you turn into a cryptid couch potato for days on end, cry-masturbating to some arguably stunning kai nudes (somebody hang ’em in the louvre already) or having sad phone calls at 3AM when it really becomes too unbearable. if it weren’t for the dogs, that house would be too big and too empty. almost spooky, in fact. imagine then the splendid nights when kai returns.

this is gonna be a firework of emotion and rolling around in the sheets. unless the more heated phone calls are concerned, you bet your season ticket that kai has not touched himself otherwise. even under the shower it goes, this doesn’t work man, i just can’t. let’s be real and honest: he’s all wired to you. his dick is like, „not sorry! closed hours until further notice :3“ whenever it doesn’t sense the aura of the queen. he couldn’t get it up with ten blue pills an hour. havertz junior is fast asleep downstairs. kai solely wants his one and only couch potato cryptid and no one else. man, is he in love. the prince of habsburg will really do anything for his goddess. he’ll sell his leg hair. only the scent of your skin makes him flustered and safe, and lord knows kai will always ask to steal a hoodie before going on a journey. he once made the whole chelsea bus yearn for love when he wrapped the sleeves around his upper body in his deep sleep while talking to the sweater. he also mumbled something hot which we’re not gonna recite here. play sucker for you by the jonas brothers: that’s exactly the theme.

yeah, let’s talk about some more uplifting bits as well, all in good humor. when it comes down to it, one of the best parts of the famous kai duality is that he is both a consummate living glam boy toy straight out of a 2010’s haircut magazine, but also a 100% trophy boyfriend kinda type. all built into one person, shoutout to his parents. they really created something. taking the trophy part literal here: give it up for the big game player, he has a few. regardless, and goddamn, doesn’t he kinda qualify as a glittering trophy himself? because he’s bedazzled with wonderfulness and the whole world wants to win his heart, badum-tss.

you’re very proud of him always. he has you dishing out the cutesy forehead kisses for real. theoretically. his forehead is way up high there, and the bean already has back problems from bending to tie his shoe laces (his dogs decide to help him out frequently). not to mention from carrying the entire ‚only romantic guy in a 1000 mile radius‘ agenda on his back. so, kissing his knees is also okay. easy to reach. they need some TLC from all the running and bruises, win-win scenario. and who said knees aren’t attractive. you’re gonna be out there routinely flirting with your baby in his DMs like oh hello, setting another standard there my westphalian prince, god of all leg and foot, your revealed ankles would have truly caused a scandal in the victorian age tabloids. like come on, we have to dig up the truth: every proper wag has a full-fledged leg and foot fetish. legs are literally 90% of her man’s job. do you think she won’t notice? and even if you did not once think about shit like sexy blue football shoes and a perfectly fitted pair of socks before: your boyfriend’s body changed your mind.

nice leggies aren’t even the tip of the iceberg with kai. boy can just stand there and it tells anyone that 1) your flirting game is A+ and truly unhinged, otherwise you’d not be able to bring him along now, 2) your taste is maybe a tiny bit bizarre but most definitely amazing, and 3) the viscount of vampire castle aachen is quite clearly yours. he’s clinging to you all the time anyways. moth to the flame, white dog hair to black fabric sweater. people on the street are gonna assume he is in mortal danger because kai is the type to hold onto you for dear life just as a habit. he walks while hugging you. he sits while hugging you. not even the most oblivious person will be confused as to who he belongs with, and who he came with. oh well. i’ll say it. literally came with. you know exactly what i mean. this is one hell of a physical relationship.

anyway. more on that later, basics first. talk about clothes again: you always have matching couple shirts. eyecatching, fashionable ones. you were the one picking them out: because of your faultless sense of detecting things that look super exquisite, as evidenced by your choice of sexy partner. you seriously got a feel for it, though. i’m not kidding. anyone can tell from a fucking mile away: these people color coordinated the living shit out of their fashion game, it’s them against the world. kai’s instagram is plastered in ‚#dressed by gf‘ captions, january to december and back again. the unspoken rule remains: there’s no person more taken than this man.

you do style the fuck outta him. he is your canvas. a mannequin. a statue. the male kate moss in flesh. all-black paris fashion week coats or a sweet peach-colored hoodie, he can do both. his duality extends to everything. you can put some square glossy sunglasses on him, a zip-up jumpsuit, he can rock a fancy umbrella, golden watches, high maintenance felt jackets, sophisticated chelsea boots (ah, perfect) with pointed toes, or straight up cheeky see-through detail blouses like he’s sir lewis hamilton doing a track walk on his home circuit, ready to take pole position. kai looks so good and fucking stylish.

[important editorial note: let us be perfectly distinguished and not cause a shitstorm. subject sir lewis is still the superior power dresser and undisputed sports world fashion king. we live in a democracy, and this is a football post, but nobody can contest this objective fact. he showed up at the met gala dressed as a fancy groom with an entirely transparent bridal lace gown layered underneath. he accepted his GQ award in a sexy grey bdsm harness (omg, can kai please start wearing things like that). he wears a different color every day of the year, no exceptions. he goes the extra mile for custom tailoring. he gives us something to look at. he is a spectacle. he has the best ponytail in formula 1 history. he even makes his own fashion and it’s all vegan. plus, in this dead boring day and age, lewis seems to be the only person left on the planet who knows what a proper pattern is and is not afraid to use it. do i need to go on? i rest my case. i solemnly swear i did not intend to overshadow the sparkling beauty of sir lewis by praising the venerable subject kai lukas havertz in the same breath.]

you encourage kai to take risks with his outfit and dress gentlemanly, or experimentally, not just in athleisure. kai can go pretty polished. he’s interested in how you select an outfit and goes right along (adding his favorite perfume, kai is the best-smelling person in history). you don’t have to guess: he bodies these looks so hard, serge gnabry was left shaken. the fashion chef himself. and let me tell you. the lovechild of anna wintour and the weeknd is truly the judgiest mf to ever walk the german national team ever since toni ‚beast mode‘ kroos retired, so his approval truly means something. serge likes all of kai’s fashion insta posts like it’s his morning newspaper. as if he wasn’t famous enough, kai attracts some major clout for how he is your haute couture muse, and turns even more heads than he usually does. everybody wants to sneak a peak. kai can deliver some major en-vogue moments because he has the combination of build and attitude, and the gorgeousness of the face simply cannot be hidden. facts.

kai has no problem that you’re a wee bit possessive at times, the „that’s my lovely man right here“ style. it’s charming to him. loyalty and a clear sense of belonging are super important in kai’s little private world, always, always, always. you’re never gonna give up on him, and so will he. don’t even think about him abandoning you for an arbitrary influencer from california beach so-and-so. remember, his favorite words are my girlfriend. he drops that a hundred times a day in any conversation. anyone from the outside would be hard-pressed to ignore his devotion. and you? will bust anyone’s ass if they tried to harass him and steal kai from you. when your prince gets fouled, the spirit of manager tuchel enters your body, making you run onto the field to book the player yourself. pardon, that was a joke. it’s the spirit of manager /kepa/ that enters you.

kai needs a strong hand to begin with, but a gentle one, which is another paradox about him. your resident vampire prince without caring physical affection is like cherry pie without the cherries, timo werner without the speed, jorginho without penalties, and lukaku without inter. listen, this man is touchy touchy. he needs his curly hair stroked and his tiny waist hugged all the time, he needs someone to fend for him, stick up for him, and warn him not to hit his head when the door frame is low. when you’re not home to smooch his marks and sore spots, he feels terribly isolated. but he also doesn’t want to be patronized, or be a manchild to you. you doubt the latter is achievable, but you’re not gonna aggressively direct his life, that’s not gonna happen. your philosophy is, gotta observe the person how they treat beloved animals and close acquaintances, and that’s how they wanna be treated. it’s obvious as fuck by how kai goes about handling his interest in donkeys or dogs.

one day he is shy and unsure, needing nothing short of your protection; your five minute embraces and kisses and tender words, your advice and your strength and your guidance. the other day, he’s confident and enduring, that goes for anything. he will shoulder all of your troubles, he will rebuke the haters, he is wise, he stands tall and sexy. this aspect of his duality is the most insane. how kai can go from let-me-stand-behind-you pupper to silky radiant wonderboy with the hands on his hips pose. kai’s duality in terms of esteem is pretty interesting and keeps the two of you on your toes, that’s for sure. a lot of people can’t handle someone who is both so seemingly vulnerable yet glamorously poised, but you chose kai and you own that shit.

he has an unbreakable calm (with a mind as empty as mendy’s goal), but is also batshit crazy. your camera roll is proof how there’s no limit to king kai’s facial expressions, nor is there a limit to how far he can stick out his tongue. lord have mercy when his weird ass meme-ing mimicry turns sexual and picks up on what you did together last night. he has one um unique o-face rendition he’s pulling to make you laugh, but don’t tell anyone. meanwhile, the chill he has in front of the goal translates to everyday conversations as if nothing happened. his sexual side is strictly bedroom and strictly texting. other people won’t catch him saying something explicit to you or about you in interviews or locker rooms.

kai is very ardent, stubborn, bitchy, and cranky when it comes to moral and ethical issues. it’s always clear to you he already made up his mind and stands up for what is right. this dude got a major backbone (literally. his spine is just so fucking long, oh christ). and on the other hand: kai is the most unbothered babycakes on the planet. when the situation calls for it, he looks like he doesn’t give a fuck, and he talks like he doesn’t give a fuck, he says that he doesn’t give one either, but ironically, he often does. he can’t pretend, he can’t lie to you, you see right through anyway. but the unbothered part is still true to some degree. sometimes, he always asks you to decide the most random stuff for him because he has no stance. he’s either 100% decided (e.g. on the fact that dogs deserve the world) or a floating blob with no preference at all (die or das nutella. classic german grammar debate. he shrugged it off as unsolvable.). it’s hilarious how his mentality works.

a trouble-rousing part of his duality has to do with age. after all, kai is still very, very, very young, a duckling fresh out of the pond — but seems a whopping decade older than being actually 22, especially when combined with his on-pitch mannerism or a nice black suit. people make fun of you because your boyfriend is so extremely skinny and taut in the face, or has the type of heavy glance that’s easily dubbed as uninterested, haughty, or weak. that he comes across as ‚completely spent‘ or ‚comes around looking fucked up‘ is something that gets thrown your way pretty often. you know he’s not built like leon ‚the rock‘ goretzka or glows with beaming joy like n’golo kante’s soft cutie cheeks. that’s obvious. he’s just born that way, his way, duh. but the whole critique still doesn’t sit right with you, especially since the jab is aimed at you as a couple, so the insult is double. attacking your boyfriend’s appearance is a no-go. that gives you fury.

you like that kai has a mature look to him. being a babyface heartthrob wouldn’t really suit him, let’s be realistic. his look is unique. actually, you didn’t even think too much about that until people brought it up. a face like that, why not, though? and why is it up for debate? in your eyes, kai is just kai. your cuddly boyfriend with the nice curls. he doesn’t have to look like a disney breakout star, or be ‚easy on the eye‘, or be an SLB (sweet liddol bean) at the beginning of his journey. if people want something like that, they should look elsewhere and consider the living SLB embodiment that is none other than jamal musiala. stan jamal, people.

kai’s no longer a teenage dream either, he’s of frickin’ age. he still needs a bit of bubble wrap, mostly to protect him from stumbling over his own legs, but not a fuckton of it. and, vice versa: that he’s not endless decades older than you is something you consider a pro to begin with, not a vicious con. what’s wrong with a man not being settled in life, you don’t even know what the standard is supposed to be. césar azpilicueta? and he’s a godly stupendous unmatched ideal 99% of the population can’t even remotely reach! loser or winner, you want kai.

everyone is in their own phase, all generations need one another. you enjoy that kai is young and new to the wide world out there. you don’t shame him for not being perfectly experienced, or super bossed up like he runs everything. it’s what is nice and endearing about him. he’s edgy and sexy and he learns from mistakes, looks up to others, works hard on himself, is on eye level (unless it comes to knowledge about donkeys, but you give that one to him). and, the elephant in the room when it comes to long-term relationships — him being very young means, hello: a lot more years to spend together! best believe your boyfriend’s not going anywhere anytime soon. kai hates relationship instability. he’s already made up his mind to go the distance. is his name manuel neuer? because he’s a keeper.

his age also softens any power imbalances, and: he’s in the best possible hormonal phase to be in love with making out. kai's really affectionate. what’s not to like. his age is an all-around advantage. you can come up with 29 more reasons on the fly. but also, how old he is doesn’t have to be a topic day in and day out. in your couple time, you haven’t talked about it at length more than once or twice. it’s not an earth-shattering fact to you, and everybody ages every day anyway, time flies. baby kiki (that’s how his mom calls him, you learned) will be adult kai havertz in a blink of his handsome eye anyway.

if people think he’s just a useless gay gen z bitchboy or a james charles football copy with acne, it’s on them: and you can enjoy the very fact that you’re dating a dashing cutie for yourself at the end of the day, and he dates you. that’s what it’s all about. you like him with the scarring and not just without, you think it’s sweet how he’s popular with guys wherever he goes, and that he has a structured face a camera broadcasting him to a world audience would love… is absolutely a compliment. oh honey you got all of this, and all that stellar body, too. 190 centimeters of good boy, 6’3 of sex god. who wins.

you get super defensive firing out arguments to protect kai regardless. admittedly, and that’s a guilty pleasure, you have slayed many a twitter troll like you're thiago silva’s wife. if you see some vitriol blowing up in the fandom and it crosses your feed, you’re suddenly the danny devito meme that goes so anyway i started blasting 😏💥. last week you got into an ugly tweet fight about kai's physique and began ranting that how he won’t gain weight or superhero level muscle is neither his fault nor his obligation, and if his face is exhausted, well, who’s working hard! and, while we’re at it, guess who stays up extra time at night to make his girlfriend very loved and happy? taking both his job and his relationship seriously, you know, like a great person.

you just kept dragging people left and right all day like, just get out, the uninterested look is a damn sexy bedroom gaze, by the way, learn to differentiate. kai just knows how to be seductive all the time, got a problem with that? also, no, he’s not a plastic prince, that bone structure is very real and not some wobbling derma filler shit, you tested, officially, with kisses, that’s a real fucking jaw. the brows are naturally this way, too, kai slays, he looks just fine, thank you very much. you can feel not attracted to him, but that’s no excuse to critiquing his health from your limited standpoint.

and hey, maybe, coincidentally, you know, he’s not like uh ‚radiant‘ or whatever because you sitting on his face all the time blocks out the sun with all those essential vitamin d nutrients so that’s on you. let it be known to the plebeians that the royal viscount of aachen prefers to live in the shadow. so there’s that. the raving mob of king kai fangirls and fanboys agreed and hit retweet, the haters ran for the hills after you dropped your tirade, news outlets just loved the fodder, kai felt very assured and honored, and you were moving on. no time for body-shaming. you think he’s as handsome as it gets, and not „despite xyz“, but „because xyz“. and anyone who tries to devalue his red hot appearance needs to mind their own messy biz. in a perfect world, kai would be flamed for his strange t-rex arm posing and wild rolling eyes in other people’s instagram videos, and yet he gets shit like that! this is just draining.

alas, you concede one thing. at one point, you had to admit that kai is a questionable dancer. jorginho will beat him in any tiktok battle on god, and rüdiger will shake his hip literally once and obliterate kai in five seconds. at the same time, kai is gifted with levels of foot- and leg-related skills that most other human beings can and will never even fathom. add even more hand-eye-foot coordination since he’s playing the piano… he’s gaming… he’s into formula 1 simulation… he has a lot of sex with you to practice getting really great at it… there i said it, the list goes on. he’s a physical wunderkind but also the world’s worst twerker.

last week he uploaded a recent ass parade on reels. people took to the comments writing stuff like, nothing jiggles here omg, you think your ass is austria but it’s actually the netherlands. kai replied c’mon, i’m working on it! he hates the gym but honey boy will go and try to conjure a 3D booty. tell mason to go join him and kai will stay motivated, as well as have a frame of reference. on the other hand: as i said. you like kai the way he is. everything is already in place how it should be. no improvement necessary. he couldn’t walk around flaunting a massive eden dumptruck without looking a little weird and unbalanced, could he. the only person who can pull off those #insane (hint, hint) legs and a great behind at that height is who? leroy sané. he gets a free pass. leroy’s ass and figure are top-notch. he is the moment. but we digress. the old rule remains, kai looks pretty head to toe. his name is fine. mighty fine.

more duality in the house of havertz… we’re getting more nsfw here. surprise surprise, you love to be very sexually active with him. he’s too hot not to be. the release is amazing, the couple time perfect. you are beyond infatuated with this man’s vibes and body, there’s no way you’re not fucking him back and forth all day every day, from deep and loving to wild and passionate because he is just sizzling and stunning and delicious. and when i say wild, i mean wild. kai is gonna forget in which direction the opposing goal stands after you fucked him brainless shortly before kickoff. you’re gonna scream from the edge of your stadium seat, oh god, my prince, please run the other way, your name is not mats hummels!

and then, oh wonder. kai is the most monk-like person in the world. hell, the pope himself. pater havertz innocentius XXIX (= the 29th). someone who’d rather be a farmer, a fisherman, a shepherd. no thoughts of sex in sight sometimes. his pronounced softie side cannot be underestimated. remember: even if the sky is falling down, even when n’golo kante ever stopped smiling (a truly apocalyptical scenario, not even the gods above could save us), even when tumblr wouldn’t know who mason mount was anymore, the day that thomas tuchel became an incompetent manager: kai would remain the last romantic. much like his chiseled bone structure: this is set in stone and marble.

touchy-feely is the word. hugs before fucks. smoochie before coochie. petting before sweating. no dreamy physical contact and a lot of laughter for kai is an absolute libido killer, if not the ultimate deal-breaker, the #1 reason to nag, his princely pet peeve. he needs something to smile about, and he needs comfort. both for the soul and body. you embrace him a lot, cheer him up, and make sure he feels very warm. kai gets cold so easily, it’s ridiculous. heated blankets all the way, baby. the DFB socks stay on during sex. heating bill off the charts. kai wants to have sex not to go from feeling unwell to elated, but he wants everything to feel nice throughout. it’s an extra effort to make sure the atmosphere is perfect, but your boyfriend needs his safe haven like that.

on top of that, he simply cannot have a good romp if he’s worried and preoccupied. kai lukas havertz turns into a sexless creature whenever he’s got a lot on his mind. the stress just kills his boner, and a person who would dismiss him emotionally? wouldn’t even get in the proximity of his pants. he loves you because you get his feelings and opinions most importantly. kai would not go to bed with someone who gave him real weird vibes, even if it was just all carnal, no strings attached. like picture someone who would mistreat animals in front of his eyes. oh my god. or someone who didn’t think about the environment, or tried to be pushy taking advantage when he was feeling messed up. kai is often level-headed, he tries his best thinking positively, but he has his ups and downs, too. he’s your hero for overcoming them. it would suck ass if someone was manipulating that for their own benefits. kai knows he’s someone who has something to offer, so he has to give it very carefully. if you think about it, he has a lot to lose, and it would be easy to break his heart. his sarcasm can only shield him so far. i know this sounds like a lot but yes, kai needs to be touched with velvet gloves; his feelings have to be protected from being played with.

if he were single at this point in time, he would go as far as being drunk and allowing someone to grind up on his lap, but… as soon as he’d trail to a backroom with them and a moment of sobriety would hit, kai’s mood would be ruined if they were not having a working conversation. if he asked them what they would like him to do and got an ‚umm… whatever you want!‘ in reply, he’d feel frustrated. maybe it has something to do with how he’s used to having managers and mentors all his life, since day one. he isn’t wired to say, „that’s how it’s done, deal with it“. to a certain extent, kai needs a partner who tells him what to do. that turns him on. all else is just the cruel underchallenging of a pretty bottom (perfect title for his autobiography so far, would be a million seller).

monk havertz innocentius also descends from his cloister when the weather is too sunny to be ignored. leaving the house and fooling around outdoors together is really important to him. he’s a dog person, remember. if the rain stops in england, the sex can wait. he’s gonna take his less expensive football with him, the one you can kick into some river or a pit of mud from hell. you drive to a hidden place without paparazzi and have endless fun practicing super long passes on a random meadow, somewhere out there. that’s his next best-kept secret: because he can pick up your wonky crosses and strangely angled shots, kai is perfectly prepared to outsmart and anticipate even the most difficult rival teams. like. kai can run after any mile high shot you’re giving him, and even throws himself into said river to retrieve the ball (sexy. he’s hotter than daniel craig crawling back on land with that shirt sopping wet).

mind you: even if it’s tempting, you’re not mad that kai is arguably a hundred times better than you. who cares. you allow each other to shine in your own ways. there are plenty of things and situations where kai needs your input. for instance, when it comes to telling an actual, well-crafted dad joke. his are still a little lame, he admits to it. in any case, i know, this bullet point escalates into a drag-em-all buffet like it’s atleti’s defense. what i wanted to say is that sure, kai is easy to envy, but also easy to cheer on. he doesn’t roast you for looking like the harry maguire to his kevin de bruyne, but works with what you have, and it’s just outdoors football for fun anyways. you’re not a professional player, he has to be the one downsizing his skill here.

talk about envy. you might be playing outside a lot, but you also play… inside. all your friends wish they had their own personal habsburgian heir to go down on them like it’s a won world cup final. everybody wants a kai clone. oh yes. the sexual duality extends to oral in particular. admit you’ve noticed this about him already, you perv. he has a thing for that. one hundred percent. this guy is so possessed by the holy spirit of saliva, blink twice and he’s scoring with a header two times a night. we know that’s kai’s specialty. that’s why everybody wants a piece of your bf, bestie, haven’t you noticed. his rowdy daring tongue knows no time-out.

like. it begs to see the light of day all the time. why is it always hanging out right in everyone’s face, oh my god. it’s naughty, i told you he’s havertz thee stallion. but to your knowledge, that’s his intricate courtship ritual. the more he sticks it out: the more he’s down bad. hold on to your labia because santa kai is coming to town, ready to bestow you with the gift of being a slobbery maniac at cunnilingus. everybody knows that kai is not a coward. and anyone can guess he’s really unusally messy. and even if he was all neat and virginal in the beginning. that the royal ruler of havertia is in the vicinity of crazy people that radiate „i give so much head, it made me nuts“ energy — and i mean the likes of kepa, and out-of-control specimen going by supposedly biblical names such as joshua — literally does not help. one day, kai is gonna feel inspired and lose his mind completely as well.

someone’s gonna go all out between those lovely legs of yours. not an ounce of hesitation from the very start. he’s konfident with a k like kai. he literally knows he’s not gonna embarrass himself. zero performance anxiety, let’s-a-fucking go. this face is an expensive sex toy, and this man is a pussy worshipping machine. at full throttle. how much more can he scream at the top of his lungs that he wants to please and spoil you so fucking badly. his eye contact is going to drive you up the wall, the feel of his nose, the curls between your fingers. oh, have mercy. the curls. the curls! the waves at the shore of the habsburgian empire. he wants you to grip and tug at them, how else are they so long and grabbable. thanks, you’re dripping wet by that thought alone when he’s not home on saturdays.

and that’s only the beginning. he pulls out every ace from up those long ass sleeves he got. kai is gonna wind his whole face around to get fucking covered in you. you know what i’m talking about. he really does that. jesus christ my sire, please don’t get an eye infection. he really knows no bounds to his debauchery. the man who routinely wants to be held carefully in your arms for the entirety of a bus ride is really gonna suck and nip and dip at your clit until you’re screaming out loud. oh, kai. you relentless bitch. but as beyoncé sang. it feels so good to be alive.

a toast to this oral aficionado. this is truly the hardest-working mouth at cobham and we all know it doesn’t mean talkativeness, kai is just impossibly eager to feel you writhe and cum on his tongue between matchdays. yep, i said it. he is that type. he can’t imagine life without giving head. he would just give up, retire himself into a remote barn in the west german countryside, and dry some straw for donkeys to chew on until he’s old and grey. no head, no fun. even if kai’s a little tired, he won’t let that shit stop him. he’s firmly convinced you always deserve your treat, and he’s gonna carpe diem with the limited time you have together. definitely an orgasm chaser here, louder harder stronger, that’s not for everyone. but he’s always aiming high because he wants to make you blissful, and knowing his lil’ weirdo brain inside out: you date him exactly because he works that way. what counts is, you’re moaning and you’re ascending and you’re getting noisy as hell, saint joshua would be so proud of you.

in comes the uno reverse card! you almost forgot this post is about duality, did ya. kai is also one hell of a bj enthusiast like no other. there’s no denying. he’s no less capable on the receiving end: and yes, he considers it hard work. pun intended. boy can keep it hard for minutes and minutes and minutes. the rest is up to you. do whatever you want on and with and to that dick. he does not care. whatever outlandish kinky things you’ve read about in this or that pseudo-scientific article, he’s there to satisfy your greed. come on, i told you he’s a boy toy bottom. kai has huge standards for his own methods, but here? even being completely off with your skills doesn’t faze him. extraterrestrial sounds, bad technique, awkward speed, fuck it. kai says who cares, the fact that it’s resembling a blowjob is enough. if it’s your lips, your throat, your tongue, your chin, your spit, going all over him — he’s in habsburg heaven. his arms are limp on the bed as are his legs, a starfish par excellence. prince kai havertz is actually /pillow/ prince kai. it’s kinda cute, but also hot how he surrenders.

just do your thing how you see fit. he’s dying. crumbling. suffering. disintegrating. corroding to igneous dust. people think that supposedly, kai’s inner spirit already left his body anyway, but this is actually where it happens. he’s very sensitive to having someone really suck him off, especially after a shower when he feels nice and warm and comfortable. and, just so you know, like a true german: he will nitpick with the terminology (ah yes, the return of bitchy kai): „a blowjob is not a deepthroat session is not a facefuck!“ mh, very true, king, very true. these are all different disciplines. you can show him you know which one is which. nuance scores the goal, as does strawberry flavored lube. eureka, what a nice invention, makes the ample buffet even tastier. he’s all groomed and shaved, imagine the glide.

by the way. you will find firsthand factual evidence that he can work his hips for 45 minutes times straight. like not just bucking. really all-out moving like a serpent because this man is a desperate grunting hoe for you. he’s terribly, terribly slutty, like… look at him. your honor, he is thirstier than thomas müller after a match of carrying the entire national team on his back. they’re paying the prince a lot of money so he is able to muster that stamina on the pitch, so you can hold it against him (well — playfully of course). no problem: kai likes a challenge. a good facefuck that lasts a halftime? let’s plot out some stable positions and take it slow. his arms are long enough to reach your clit, he’s gonna have you soaked on either end. he has figured out the right amount of being all inside of you rested across your tongue, or pulled out in the right moments so you can toy around with all the length he’s giving, and kiss it, and lick it good, and tell him exactly how he should move. duh, he’s gonna be like say no more, let me do it for ya.

kai havertz 29 should be kai havertz 69, i’m serious. for a madman sucker of this scope, eating you out while feeling your lips on his tip? he’ll never be the same. 45 minutes, jot that down. to be entirely truthful, yes, he’ll look like you murdered him in cold blood afterwards because he really puts his heart into the flow. but it’ll be worth it. even if that’s going to surprise you, he’s gonna cry his eyes out because it was so unbelievable, and needs some major personal attention, you know, ASMR time. kai and aftercare are inseparable.

and on your part? perfectly happy. you never had to chug this much water in preparation, you never tasted that much prime dick all your life, your lips have never felt stimulated like that, and you haven’t heard a guy moan and gyrate his soul out like this. you’ll never catch yourself mumbling „mh, mh, so good“ like that elsewhere. if you can mumble at all, that is. no time for talk, you want to be busy with your mouth in a different way. that dick is so hard and pretty and flushed and basically „hi, working hours open again!“ because hey. he loves you so much.

all tension will have left your either bodies and you can sleep tight like angels after cleaning up. second shower for kai? even better, he’s snug and warm again. but don’t you think it has to be a marathon every time, okay. here goes the duality all over. if you want ten minutes of intensity and rush, kai will sweetly oblige and ask, „so what’s on the menu, then?“. tongue in cheek, ever the pleaser, ever the teaser. i told you way before, you’re so lucky. quickies are not his top-most specialty, usually because he is the deep and steady type, and calm as you like. it’s you who’s going a little rougher sometimes for good measure, and he’s down for that. kai likes upbeat and energetic people. he won’t accuse you for losing your nerve, he knows he looks like a hottie. but he can catch up with you, i promise, five minutes and he’s giving you a whole damn bucket load to do whatever you want with: gotcha. the german punctuality of it all. with a schedule like that, kai has to learn being organized.

cum play is only the next conclusion to arrive at. the nasty brat is gonna slurp it all off your fingers. the duality of him means he’s not just a romancer but also, kai’s dirty, you can swap it around on your tongues and enjoy the amazing texture. this man has the most controlled diet in the world, baby. of course he tastes astoundingly good. and kai doesn’t have a major gag reflex, bless his horny soul, so you can shove your fingers in his mouth as far as you please. he’s just gonna glare you down and stick his tongue out like it’s nothing. he knows the shit he can take. pity there’s no endless supply of his cum, so he has to practice recovering quickly every round. but we know he’s the prince of recovery, so don’t worry too much about it.

if you really want to know the details. kai has one long veiny dick for the taking, grower not a shower. he has a tendency to cum in waves at once, six to seven slow twitches, with a silky — hah, got ya, this one you won’t ever forget — clean texture. you quickly discovered his favorite way of cumming. that would be you gripping hard above the base, sort of around the middle actually, and working with the upper third, without the lips fully closing so it makes a satisfying wet noise. he doesn’t need you going balls deep. the stimulation and teasing and lip friction are enough. so, among the big three, he likes plain blowjobs the very most, with enough spit and handwork involved. brace yourself, the moans will be heavenly soft and desperate. yeah, he’s extra, and he’s vocal. unless we’re talking safe word system, of course. not many words. they’re not needed. he’s an athlete, he feels it all in his skin and bones, and his kisses will always tell you what you need to know.

the afterglow is exactly as you’d expect. after a ton of shampoo and water went down the drain, you are the classic two-big-towels-wrapped-around-us couple on the living room couch. drying off, the dogs will still stay in the different part of the house, and you will lay there humming and murmuring in silence for a while just to cuddle it all out. but they will join for bedtime when you’re both tucked into each other's serge gnabry-signed stylish PJs. now’s the time to cling and smooch for like half an hour plus. after he’s done making some silly faces, kai keeps talking and talking, staying pressed firmly against you with his eyes closed. then you keep talking and talking, until you’re both drifting off into the twilight zone. it’s just a nice and protected atmosphere. the dogs are curled up on the duvets, and so are you underneath. sleeping beauty kai is back.

you went crazy in the sheets, and now you’re right there glued together. as the germans love to say: same procedure as every year. well, every week, in this case. when you look at him doze off next to you, kai’s so cute, like the senior puppy in this bed. like, a comically elongated pupper, 6’3 is one hell of a doggo if you think about it, but since he’s in a fetal pretzel position now, it sort of counts. it’s easy to snooze that way when you spoon him, and there’s nothing left to be desired. oh, he’s the bestest boy, you can attest. and you do realize. kai is an amazing boyfriend in more ways than just being really soft on the one hand, and super sexy on the other. it’s the whole package deal we’re talking about. it’s the truth, your tall loving prince just has a lot of good things to offer.

ao3 crosspost

››››› ♥ multifandom masterlist ♥

【 final note.】my contribution to mending the chelsea heartbreak, i hope you liked this wild ass ride and enjoyed your snack. excuse any editing/spelling mistakes or related grammar issues, i happen to be german myself 🇩🇪 thank you for reading, i’m sure i’ll post some more football stuff during world cup season, in the meantime leave a comment/tag or so 👋 - caro

#kai havertz #kai havertz x reader #germany nt #chelsea fc #kai havertz headcanon #kai havertz x y/n #football imagine #kai havertz fluff #kai havertz smut #kai havertz memes #football #cfc #german national team #kai havertz fanfic #kai havertz imagine #chelsea imagine #chelsea memes #long post #hope the tags work so the kai squad will find this

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ppersonna · 3 years

Text

keep me warm - jhs | m

cause you keep me and nice and you keep me warm. wanna feel you on me, can't wait to get back there again - texas sun, khruangbin

✹ summary- camping is always a great time when you’re with your friends, but even better with your boyfriend, hoseok.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- jung hoseok x reader

✹ word count- 3.9k - she’s a short lil quick dip ;)

✹ genre- smut. lol thats it. cant say there is much plot here besties!!! but there is big brother namjoon, brothers best friend hoseok, established relationship!!!

✹ warnings- explicit smut, cockwarming, dirty talk, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (be smart pls!), sex in a tent, a little exhibitionism???, fingering, finger sucking, creampie, lil bit of cum play but not really, hoseok is a dirty dirty boy and i love that about him tbh

✹ a/n- helloooo. i’ve been sitting on this and finally finished it!! thank you to @kimtaehyunq for the sexy banner and beta reading and general support. i was inspired to write this fic when i went camping but pls be warned that sex in a tent is not as sexy as this fic makes it seem 🤕 ILY BESTIES!!! lemme know your thots!!!

The annual Kim Family camp out is an event you haven’t missed since your seventh birthday when you had chicken pox. It’s an outing that has gained notoriety among your friends, a monumental yearly occasion that takes months of prep in advance. What started as a simple camp out with your parents and your older brother Namjoon has become an event with extended friends and family members and significant others involved. Your parents handed down the event to you and your brother, claiming their older age keeps them from being able to keep up with “the youth” for an entire weekend, instead preferring to join for a big cookout dinner, then head back to the comfort of their tempurpedic mattress and functional plumbing back at home.

Not that you minded.

This year was different. Your cousins, Taehyung and Seokjin, would join with Tae’s girlfriend Maggie. Your childhood best friend Jimin would attend as well, bringing along his lover of the month, a tall and leggy brunette. Namjoon invited his best friend Yoongi, who brought along your mutual friend Jungkook.

And most importantly,

Jung Hoseok would be there. Your boyfriend.

Hoseok is no stranger to the Kim Family camp out. He’s been attending since he was sixteen after meeting Namjoon in high school jazz band and instantly becoming friends. You can vividly remember the older high school boy making sure you never felt left out in a group of gangly teenagers—bringing you along on hikes, and fishing, and general mischief.

It’s where you first fell for him.

Every year after that, you pined for Hoseok from afar at every outing. You’d lie awake at night in your shared tent with Jimin, desperately wishing the body next to you was Hoseok, wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm in the forest's chill.

Your relationship with Hoseok flourished after high school, when he was unknowingly in your chemistry class in college. Hours were spent pouring over textbooks together, cramming for exams and practice labs with a familiar friend.

Then came the coffee dates, the movie nights, the dinners. Hoseok went from an occasional study buddy to someone you talked to hourly.

The day he kissed you is a day you’ll never forget.

Soft lips pressing onto yours over a bubbling beaker of magnesium, his hands cupping your cheeks as he drew you in so close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Be mine,” he whispered. “Please, be mine.”

And you’ve been his ever since.

“Aish! Don��t burn my marshmallow, ___!” Namjoon scolds you, jerking your long stick away from the fire as he sits next to you. “I hate burned marshmallows.”

Annoyance bubbles up in your throat as you roll your eyes at your brother.

“I wouldn’t have to do this for you if you knew how to roast a marshmallow without starting a wildfire.”

Namjoon, ever the strong-headed big brother, glares at you. “That was an accident and you know it.”

Hoseok chuckles beside you, resting a hand on your leg as you murmur expletives about Namjoon and a certain stick under your breath.

“I’ll eat your burned one, babe,” he says with a smile. “I love your burned mallows.”

Hoseok’s charm is a balm to all your wounds. He easily melts the ice around your heart and soothes your frayed nerves with a simple look.

“Thanks, Hobi,” you reply.

“Please, no talk of my sister’s mallows,” Namjoon winces. “It’s bad enough you’re dating in front of me. In front of my salad.”

Namjoon doesn’t mean it. He knows how deeply you love him, and he trusts Hoseok not to hurt his one and only sibling. But it doesn’t mean he’s not above rubbing it in your face that he was Hoseok’s friend first.

Jungkook laughs from where he’s sitting, roasting a hotdog over the crackling flame on Jimin’s lap (“There weren’t any seats left!”).

“At least he’s not tossing her salad in front of you.”

Yoongi slaps the younger man’s hotdog out of his hand and into the fire, making Jungkook whine and pout petulantly.

“Don’t be gross,” Yoongi scolds and Namjoon nods at his friend in solidarity.

Hoseok smirks and licks his fingers clean of the sticky marshmallow. “Besides, we didn’t bring nearly enough lube for any anal play tonight.”

“Hoseok!” Namjoon screeches and you bashfully bury yourself into your sweater. The rest of the group explodes in laughter while your brother holds his head in his hands, lamenting the day you two met.

Hoseok pulls you into his lap, grinning as he kisses at your ear while maintaining firm eye contact with your brother, eager to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

While you’re relaxing into the warmth of your boyfriend’s body and enjoying the laughter of all your closest friends, Hoseok nips at your ear and whispers gently.

“I love you.”

“I’m so cold.” A shiver wracks through you as you burrow down deeper into your sleeping bag. The night air becomes increasingly frosty and you can easily see your breath in the dim light from the moon. “It wasn’t supposed to be this cold.”

Hoseok scoots his bag closer to yours, rubbing over the meshy material in an attempt to warm you.

“I thought about bringing another blanket before we left…,” he sighs. “But Namjoon told me I was being ‘a boy scout’.”

You bark out a frigid laugh, teeth chattering as you try to snuggle into the warmth of Hoseok’s hand.

Pleadingly, you ask. “Can we share? Maybe if we zip the sleeping bags together we can make one big extra-large sleeping bag?”

Hoseok nods. “Good idea.”

He quickly gets to work as soon as you unzip your sleeping bag and move off of it, allowing him to take it and zip the two bags together. He spreads it back out over the soft padded bed once it’s completed and he slips into his end before beckoning you over.

“Come to me, my little popsicle.”

The fabric swishes and slides as you move into the combined bag, wrapping your cold limbs around the warmth of your boyfriend’s body.

“Holy shit, you really are cold,” he exclaims with a grunt when your ice-cold hands seek the toasty expanse of his toned belly. “Fuck.”

“Sorry.” Your apology is anything but apologetic as the high temperature of Hoseok’s body quickly oozes into you. “You feel so good.”

A moan slips out of your lips, pleased at the warmth that your boyfriend radiates as you seek every spot on his body that radiates heat.

“Hold on,” he whispers.

Quickly, he rids himself of his shirt and tugs at the hem of your own.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You gasp as the icy air billows under your shirt. “Why would I get naked right now?”

He huffs. “Trust me?”

He kisses the pout on your lips, then pulls away with your shirt in his hands.

“Skin-to-skin contact is the easiest way to warm someone up. Body heat, you know. Textbook boy scout stuff.”

He twists your body around to spoon into him, back pressed against his ultra-warm chest, making you gasp once you feel the radiating heat spreading across you.

“Oh…” you sigh as you sink into his embrace. “You were right.”

Hoseok smirks as he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in the nape of your neck—lips pressing gentle, warm kisses to the column below your ear.

“Told you so.”

Your body instinctively presses further into his body, desperate for the warmth that the human-heater seems to emit. His breath hitches as he feels your ass press hard against his lap, cock stirring at the proximity.

Hoseok’s hands run up and down your arms, warming each inch of your skin with his palms. He spreads heat wherever he touches, and your eyes flutter closed as he works his gentle, warming massage into your frozen skin. He is the epitome of sunshine, both in body and demeanor, always able to brighten the coldest chills with one look, one touch.

When he’s satisfied that you’re thoroughly warmed where he’s worked, his hands move from your arms and shoulders around to your belly and up to your chest. You feel like mush under his grazing touch, gasping and biting your lip as he tugs gently at your perky nipple. It’s a live wire to his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans as he feels himself harden. He kisses at your shoulder as he continues to palm at your chest, taking the fullness of your breasts into his whole hand and massaging it gently.

“Hobi…” you warn, feeling the desire between your thighs build. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

He chuckles against your skin, breathing hot air over your neck and shoulder, tightening his grip on your nipple for a quick pinch that makes you squeak.

“Who says we can’t finish?”

His voice is low—that deep, sensual tone that sets your tummy aflame with desire. His dick is pressed against your ass, twitching with need as it thickens in his pants.

His hand moves from your chest, rubbing soft, sweet circles on your stomach as he warms the cool flesh around your belly button, before traveling down to where your sleeping pants sit low on your hips.

“We c-can’t,” you meekly attempt to fight back, remain strong, but the warmth of his body and the need growing within you is quickly winning your internal battle of morality. “My cousin is next to us.”

Hoseok smirks as he slips underneath your pants, hand diving in between your thighs to rub at your soft mound. He’s close, so close to slipping inside of you, and you squeeze your eyes tight at the overwhelming urgency you’re feeling for his fingers inside you.

“You think Tae and Maggie are fast asleep right now?” He asks.

As if on cue, you hear soft giggles coming from the next tent over, giggles that sound suspiciously like Taehyung’s girlfriend.

“Tae is really not that funny,” Hoseok says as he nibbles at your ear. “Let me warm you, baby.”

He seeks your consent, desperate to make you feel good but not willing to further his actions.

“Mmm, maybe just a little more.”

His fingers seek purchase further, finally diving into your folds. He gasps into your ear as he feels how wet you’ve become from his ministrations, stroking gently up and down your slick slit and circling over your clit.

“Fuck, look at you,” he nearly whines into your ear. “So wet for me.”

“Please, Hobi,” you whimper. You’re not sure what you’re begging for, what you need, but all you want is for him to not stop, never stop.

“You want me to keep going, don’t you?” He asks, teasingly circling the pad of his finger on your swollen clit.

Unable to use your words, you nod. The light pressure on your clit has your thighs trembling and Hoseok thrills at the palpable desperation you’re feeling.

“Are you going to be quiet for me?” He asks, slowly moving his finger down before breaching into your channel. “Can’t be waking up the entire camp.”

Using your hand, you clamp over your mouth as your boyfriend's finger fucks into your hole, slowly and achingly gentle but with purpose. A shiver runs down his spine as he watches you try to hold yourself back. You’re not normally quiet—he makes it his mission to get you to whine and cry and yell his name as loud as he can when you’re at home. But the thrill of keeping you quiet while he sinks himself into you makes his body hum with want.

“Good girl,” he cooes as he introduces another finger inside you, scissoring you open with his lengthy digits. “Better stay quiet for me or I won’t let you cum.”

He quickly removes his fingers from your channel, making you whine behind your hand, which he silences with a soft tut.

“No complaining. Be good.”

He continues his journey to disrobe you, sliding off your pants and panties. He throws them to the other side of the tent where your luggage lies, no care about you wearing them the rest of the night. He follows suit with his own pants, swiftly pulling the material off his legs and allowing his throbbing cock to spring free. You desperately want to touch it, feel it in your hands and in your mouth, but he keeps you facing away from him, cock fully out of your reach.

“Such a perfect little ass,” he murmurs to himself as he admires your backside before sliding back into the big spoon position. The feeling of his hot, hard length against your bare ass makes you mewl with desire, teasingly rubbing against it.

“Fuck, Hobi,” you gasp as he slips his hands back to the apex of your thighs, scissoring into you again and warming his icy fingers in the heat of your cunt.

“Shhh,” he reminds. “Let me give your mouth something to do, yeah?”

He pulls his dripping fingers from within your walls and brings them to your mouth. You eagerly open wide, obedient and desperate for something to take your mind off the growing neediness your body is throbbing with.

Watching you suck your own wet slick off his fingers makes Hoseok’s cock ache with need. The tip is weeping with pre-cum, as if crying out to bury itself within your walls and never retreat. It twitches as your tongue swirls over his digits, teasing him and reminding him how well you can suck his cock.

“Shit, baby,” he gasps. “I’m going to bust right now if you’re not careful.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and uses the spit-slick hand to lift your leg enough for him to line his cock up at your hole.

“You want to warm my cock for me, baby?” He nips at your shoulder as he rubs the bulbous head along your slit. “God, I want to be in this pretty little cunt all night. Can you keep me warm tonight?”

“P-please, baby,” you gasp as the tip prods at your entrance, threatening to breach. He preemptively moves his free hand back to your mouth, covering it gently to help keep your noisy mouth muffled.

“Such a polite girl.” Hoseok’s lips skim over your neck and ear, nibbling at your lobe as he finally, blessedly, spears himself into you.

“Fuuuck,” he whines as he drops his forehead against your soft hair, shuddering as he buries himself to the hilt. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Nothing compares to the feeling of Hoseok sinking himself into you. It’s like the first time, every time. He clings to you desperately, as if he wants to bury his entire self in between your thighs and never retreat. Being connected to your boyfriend like this, not knowing where he ends and you begin, is the most dazzling aspect of sex. Your heart beats in overtime, breath short and heavy, as he holds you like you’re his only worthy possession in life.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t withdraw his cock and plunge back into you like his body is begging him to. He wants nothing more than to roll you onto your stomach and fuck you until you’re screaming his name for the entire national forest to hear, but he doesn’t.

“Mmm, Hobi, please,” you whine against his palm, kitten licking the flesh there to encourage him to move. It almost works, almost spurs him into action, but he remains flush against you and unmoving.

“Just trying to keep you warm, baby,” he teases. “Skin-to-skin contact.”

He can feel your body tense and shake around him, core tightening as you’re desperate to feel the friction you desire. It makes Hoseok nearly growl into your ear, clutching you tighter in his grasp.

“Now you want to fuck me?” He teases into your ear. “I thought you were tired?”

A pathetic whimper is the only response you can muster. You’re desperate for more, aching for his thick cock to thrust in and out of you. His hand slips down your body, caressing each inch of your skin before landing on your clit, circling the nub teasingly.

“I bet you could cum like this,” he breathes as he slowly swirls his finger. “With my cock stuffed inside you.”

He’s right—your body is already reacting to the stimulation and you can feel your body clenching around his unmoving length deep inside you. It’s prodding you in just the right spot that makes you keen, core desperate for some movement. His added touch makes you whine into his palm still covering your mouth.

“That’s right, baby,” he praises as he bites at your earlobe. “Such a needy little pussy, so desperate for me you could cum just from feeling me inside you.”

The pressure rises, stomach tightening as you feel your body near the edge of bliss. You can feel your thighs trembling as Hoseok whispers and nibbles at your ear, fingers working your clit with just the right rhythm to make you see stars.

His finger swirls with delicate speed, playing you like the nimble musician he is.

“Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already about to cum for me.”

Holding back your desperate moans, your eyes nearly roll back in their sockets as you feel your body build closer and closer to the blissful end that it craves. Having him buried deep inside you with none of the delicious friction is driving you crazy, and the speed of his fingers on your clit makes you keen for anything he can give you. You’re so close, so *fucking close* to your climax that your vision blurs.

Suddenly, the telltale sound of another tent zipper opening rips through the relative silence of the campground and Hoseok stills his finger on you.

“Shhh,” he warns, lifting his head to listen carefully.

The sound comes from your left, Jungkook’s tent, and you squeeze your eyes tight and whimper into Hoseok’s palm at the ache in your belly. Jungkook stumbles around the campground before he makes his way out, and Hoseok smirks as the footsteps get quieter.

“That was close, baby,” he says as his finger teases over your throbbing clit. “We don’t want Jungkookie to find his friend like this, don’t we?”

You shake your head, body trembling as his finger provides not-enough stimulation on your tortured clit.

He keeps quiet and continues his feather-light touch, pleased at the unexpected orgasm denial and the way it makes your cunt clench around his cock as if coaxing it to give you what you need most.

“You better not be loud,” he warns. “You don’t want to ruin our fun, right?”

Agonizing moments later, Jungkook’s footsteps return and he zips himself back into his tent and quickly heads back to sleep. He remains stilled inside you, listening intently for any sounds of the others awakening.

After minutes of desperate silence and your needy cunt aching for your boyfriend to move, he rolls you onto your stomach with him on top, cock still buried deep within you.

“You’ve done so well,” he praises as he leans down and licks a fat stripe on the back of your neck, making you shiver. “Take your reward like a good girl.”

Without warning, Hoseok grips at your hips and starts a brutal pace, fucking you fast and hard while staying quiet. It feels so good, better than the feeling of him being still inside you. Nothing can compare to his thickness spearing into you, stretching you wide. The ridges of his cock feel like heaven from the position he has you in, and you can feel the stimulation building upon your ruined, curtailed orgasm from earlier.

He quickly rams a piece of the sleeping bag into your mouth, forcing you to be quiet as he nearly impales you open, burying himself as deep into your womb as he can before retreating and thrusting in for more. You can tell he’s close by the way his movements lose finesse, the way his hands grip your thick hips as if he’s grasping a lifeline.

“Gonna fill you up,” Hoseok whispers harshly, his voice taking on the rough edge that makes your body react. “You want my cum, baby?”

Your mouth is full, but your head nods quickly and you arch your back to let him reach even deeper inside of you, desperate to get yourself and him off simultaneously.

“Shit,” he groans as he feels your body accept him even further at this new angle, your ass high in the air. He grips it, enjoys the way the flesh jiggles in his grip and with each thrust. “Cum on my cock, baby, please.”

Hoseok doesn’t beg, hardly ever, so when he’s desperate for your release, you’re equally desperate to give it to him. As he pounds into you, taking full advantage of your prone body and lifted hips, the dam holding back your climax finally erupts, making your walls quiver and squeeze around his cock and forcing you to bury your face as far as you can into your sleeping bag to muffle your whines.

He wishes he could hear your screams, wants to hear the way you cry his name out as your cunt milks him, begs him for his own end. Another round of thrusts and he feels it all snap, cock pulsing out hot spurts of cum into your eager and waiting channel.

He pulls out of you, loving the way his cum follows him out, dribbling out of your spent pussy weakly. He lifts a finger and scoops it up, pushing it back into your juicy walls and nearly whining as he feels it wet and sopping with his release. You’re pulling the sleeping bag from your mouth, panting hard from your own release and turning around to look at your boyfriend, hips wiggling.

Hoseok smiles fondly at you, removing his finger from your walls and rubbing the smooth skin of your ass.

“Are you warm?” He asks with a smirk, knowing by the sheen of sweat on both of your bodies that you’ve successfully warmed up in the bite of the chilly night.

He flops down beside you and pulls you in close, snuggling into the sleeping bag while kissing your face gently.

Hoseok’s cock is still hard, still aching even after a release and you’re quick to grasp it in your hands, finally getting a grip on it for the first time tonight.

“Better keep you warm all night like I promised, huh?” You smile sleepily as you lift your leg to allow him entrance to your center yet again. “Keep me full all night please, baby?”

He is loath to deny you, and the wet heat of your used pussy feels like heaven. He holds you closer, pulls you in tight as he buries his cock as far as he can go, before kissing you sweetly once more.

He knows he’ll wake up in a few hours, dick throbbing with a need to take you for yet another round, but for now, he revels in the warmth and love and safety he feels when he’s connected to you in nearly every way.

“By the way, I love you too, Hoseok,” you whisper to him after a few moments of silence, recalling to the sweet whispered words around the campfire.

Hoseok smiles as he closes his eyes, body and soul in pure bliss.

And when Namjoon complains in the morning that he could hear the sounds of his little sister getting railed, Hoseok will let him know he ensured you didn’t suffer from hypothermia—that it’s his job as boyfriend to ensure you’re kept safe,

and always kept warm.

#bts smut #hoseok smut #jung hoseok smut #jhope smut #bts fics #bts smut fics

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heavenlyhischier · 3 years

Text

only when you're high - rafe cameron

word count: 4.3k

summary: Rafe only ever talks to you when he's high, and you've eventually had enough.

warnings: angst i guess, language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, lil makeout sesh at the end

note: ik this isn't the request but i've been working on this for a while so here ya go <3 this is def not my best writing so dont judge it too harshly

3:53 a.m.

You had been dreaming about your cat taking over a world full of people with fish heads when the incessant ringing from your phone jolted you awake. You blindly flung your hand onto the nightstand, knocking over a half empty water bottle and a bottle of ibuprofen before your fingers grazed the cool screen. You picked up the device, nearly blinding yourself when you opened your eyes to see who was calling you at such an ungodly hour. Once your eyes adjusted to the screen’s brightness, the name ‘Stupid Kook’ was displayed across the top. You hesitantly swiped to answer.

“What in the flying fuck do you want,” You whisper yelled, propping your half-conscious body up with your elbow.

“Hey, baby,” He greeted, his voice dragging as if he was thinking too hard about his words. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

You stopped breathing for a moment, not sure what you were supposed to say to his weird revelation. You had been having a weird thing with Rafe for a few months now. After many drinks, you would often finding yourself making out with him in a secluded area. Despite your random make out sessions, he had never once called you to simply hear your voice. In fact, he hadn’t even called you before. It was usually always a quick ‘wyd’ text at midnight and nothing more.

“That’s weird, you’ve never called me before,” You pointed out, “You’ve also never called me baby before, so what’s that about?”

“Mm, I don’t know. Always wanted to call you that before so why not? What are you up to, baby,” He asked, his words slurring together in a way that could only happen while under the influence.

“You’re high aren’t you,” You sighed. Of course, he was high. You should have known that from the get-go. Rafe Cameron wouldn’t have called you sober; he never even looked at you sober.

A brief silence hung over the line, Rafe’s heavy breathing being the only thing coming through the receiver. “Maybe a little. Had a rough day, so I went to see Barry and now I’m at Topper’s. Talking to you.”

You couldn’t help but let a small smile grace your features; a smile that was gone almost as soon as it came. You let your elbow fall from its position, your head falling back onto the pillow that was still warm from when you were asleep. “How sweet of you. What are you doing, anyways? Shouldn’t you be getting shitfaced and taking some innocent girl to bed?”

He let out an airy laugh before speaking. “The only one I’d like to take to bed is you, and we somehow always stop before it gets to that point. Anyways, it’s just me, Topper, and Kelce, and I started thinking about us in the back of my truck when we were outside. Before I knew what I was doing, you answered the phone.”

Your cheeks flared red as images of Rafe’s hands exploring your body flashed through your mind, the feeling of his ring on your skin igniting something inside of you. His mouth latching onto the sensitive spots of your neck as your moans filled his truck. You let your fingers ghost over your lips as if you could still feel his own on yours. More memories of him exploring your body in every way but the way you wanted him most were running through your mind. Every time you wanted to give in to him, give in to your urges, but you couldn’t.

“You know, I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want you and I hate it,” He started, his words still slow, “I hate it because you’ll never let me have you.”

“Rafe,” You groaned, running a hand over your tired face, “I don’t really feel like giving myself to someone who only talks to me when they’re drunk or high. Someone who would rather be caught dead than with a pouge.”

“You know it’s not like that, baby. It’s complicated,” He tried, and you could tell there was a hint of unfamiliar panic in his voice.

“It always is. Guess I’ll see or talk to you next time you get fucked up. Goodnight Rafe,” You whispered before hanging up on the boy, ignoring his desperate protests.

1:38 a.m.

You turned the shower water off before stepping out onto the cool tiled floor, water dripping from every part of your body. You chose to ignore the buzzing coming from your phone, moving to grab the towel hung on the back of your bathroom door. However, the buzzing started again as you were drying off your legs.

“Who the fuck,” You groaned as you wrapped the towel around your still wet body. ‘Stupid Kook’ was making a second appearance, much to your surprise. “Yes, Rafe?”

“What’s up your ass,” He laughed his infectious laugh. You could picture him throwing his head back and his glazed over eyes twinkling with amusement, something you had only seen when you found yourself admiring him from afar.

“Nothings up my ass. Just don’t know what your high ass wants this time.” You gripped your phone in your hand and started to walk back towards your room. Your parents had fallen asleep hours ago, so you had to make sure you were quiet. However, that deemed difficult in the darkest hours of the night in your already poorly lit house. You bumped your hip and stubbed your toe on just about anything that was out in the open. Once you were in your room, you hastily shut the door and flipped the light switch on.

“Hello! Hello! Hello! Where are you,” Rafe yelled, making you wince and pull the phone away from your ear.

“Jesus, dude. Calm down, I was walking back to my room,” You chastised, doing your best to hold your phone in between your ear and shoulder.

“What were you doing? I missed you,” He pouted.

You ignored the swelling you got in your heart and said, “I was leaving the bathroom. I just finished showering. What are you doing?”

You grabbed a clean pair of underwear and a shirt you had taken from JJ after you had thrown up over whatever you were wearing that night. Rafe began telling you what he was doing, which was quite literally nothing. However, he quickly dove into a spout of how you were naked and wet and how badly he wanted to see you without any clothes on. Your cheeks were burning as he went on and on about all of the sinful things he wanted to do to you. You let him ramble on a bit more as you turned the light off once you were clothed and ready for bed.

“Okay, that’s enough, Rafe,” You stopped him, pulling your blanket back so you could crawl in bed. “So, calling me two times within a week? You falling in love with me?”

It was so painfully obvious that it was a joke, but you could practically feel the tension radiating through your phone from Rafe’s end. His abrupt silence concerned you because this boy was far from silent when he was doped out.

“Maybe I am,” He finally got out, and you couldn’t detect any sarcasm in it.

“Sure you are,” You rolled your eyes, blaming exhaustion for briefly clouding your judgment, “If you were in love with me, you’d actually talk to me when you aren’t too fucked to remember your own name.”

You started picking at a loose thread on your blanket as you let your mind wander to what life would be life if you had an actual relationship with Rafe. Going to parties with him. Hanging around the Island Club with him and his friends. Him doing lines off your body before having his way with you.

“I will talk to you when I’m not high,” His voice broke you from your thoughts, “If that’s what you really want.”

“I do,” You said way too quickly, “I mean, yeah sure. That would be nice, I guess.”

“Just text me and I’ll answer.” You couldn’t stifle the yawn that escaped your lips, but you did try and hide it from Rafe. Your attempt was no good, though. “You’re tired, go to bed.”

“No, I’m fi-.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Rafe shouted over you, “Talk to you soon, baby.”

Rafe’s name popped up on your phone screen every few days after he had gotten drunk out of his mind or too high to do anything other than find your contact. You didn’t mind it at first, but after you had texted him during the day and those messages went unanswered, you grew hurt and annoyed. You had tried asking him why he wouldn’t respond, but he always found a way to change the subject. You wanted to ask him about it in person, but you hadn’t seen him in almost a month. You wanted to ask him why he couldn’t bother to pick up the phone when he was sober, but wasted no time in calling you as soon as he got his bump in.

One of the nights he called, you offered to have him come over because your parents were gone, but he said no. Made up some excuse about how he was staying with Topper for a while since Sarah cheated on him and he wanted to be there for his friend. You understood that, so you didn’t push him after that. Then, the next time you told him about a party everyone was going to and how you wanted to see him there. You even told him to bring the other two. That time he told you he was staying away from parties for a while, wanting to stay to himself for the most part due to the constant stress from his dad. You knew how Ward could be sometimes, so it wasn’t hard to believe him and move on from there.

You wanted to be mad to him for only acknowledging you when he was high, but you couldn’t be. You’ve always wanted to feel wanted by somebody, and he made you feel like that albeit only when he was far gone from reality. You could deal with it as long as you got to talk to him, no matter how insecure it made you. Well, you thought you could.

2:25

Your parents were gone for the night, so you opted to watch Marvel movies in the living room. You were so invested in watching Iron Man and shoving popcorn in your mouth that you didn’t feel your phone go off the first six times. Or the fifteen times after that. Not that you would have cared either way. You knew the only person it could be was the boy who never wanted you sober. The credits began rolling across the TV, so you finally decided to pick up your discarded phone. You were shocked to see Rafe had called you eight times and texted you thirteen. Overall, his texts said the same thing.

Why aren’t u answering me :(

Call me pls

I wanna talk to you baby

It was if he knew you were finally looking at your phone because his contact popped up not ten seconds later. You rolled your eyes, but reluctantly answered.

“Y/N! Where have you been,” He whined into the receiver, “I’ve been trying to call you for like two hours.”

“Watching movies,” Your words were sharp and short, not particularly wanting to talk to him right now. You’ve nearly reached your breaking point with him.

Rafe could immediately tell something was off with you by the way you sounded. “What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath in, setting your bowl of popcorn on the coffee table after you paused the end credit scene. You leaned forwards and planted your elbow on your knee as you held your head in annoyance.

“I’m fine, Rafe. I’m just getting fed up with you only wanting to talk to me when you’re high or drunk,” You started, “I used to be fine with it because it once every couple of weeks, but now it’s almost every day and it’s annoying. You told me to text you when you’re sober, and I did, but you never responded. I try and offer to come over to you or have you come to me, but you always have an excuse. I know you want to be there for Topper and you don’t really want to be around anyone right now, but that doesn’t mean I have to put up with it.”

“Y/N, I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just-It’s complicated. Please understand that,” He was practically begging you to listen to him.

“Rafey, are you coming back to play beer pong with us,” A female voice suddenly cut through the sudden sound of music.

Your breathing stopped and your heart felt like it was being squeezed by Rafe’s own hand. A wave of heartbreak crashed over your entire body. “‘I just don’t want to be around anyone’ huh? Thought you were just spending time with Topper for a while? You know, if you didn’t want to see me, all you had to do was say so,” You whimpered, hurt now mixing with your anger and annoyance.

“No, wait,” He tried, yelling at whoever came in the room to get out, “Y/N, please. It isn’t lik-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. It is like that, Rafe. It is exactly like that. You don’t want to see me, and that is fine. I get it. Why would you ever want to be seen with someone from the Cut? It doesn’t matter, though. Don’t call me anymore. You lied to me. That is not something that I can forgive,” Your tears were too strong to hold back now, “I don’t care for liars, Rafe Cameron, and you’re the biggest one of all.”

You quickly hung up and turned off your phone, throwing it towards the end of the couch so you weren’t tempted to grab it. You grabbed the large blanket from the back of the couch, picked another movie, and let your tears fall as it played in front of you.

“Honey,” Your moms gentle voice broke through, “You fell asleep on the couch.”

You slowly opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the bright light shining through the giant window. The headache hit you like a ton of brinks, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut in pain. Your mom was hovering over you, her hand on your shoulder and her soft eyes pretending to not notice how puffy your cheeks and red your eyes are.

“I guess so,” You mumbled, pushing yourself up into a sitting position, “I’ll go lay down in my room. I’m still tired.”

She gave you an understanding nod with a caring smile and helped you off the couch. Her hand lingered on your back as if she wanted to say something to you, but she decided to leave it alone for now. You would talk to her when you were ready, if you ever were. You gave her a thumbs up when she told you her and your father would be out again most of the day.

Your feet dragged as you stumbled back to your room, using the wall to keep you steady. You pushed the door open with your foot and gave your cat, who was laying on your bed as if she owned it, a stupid smile. You fell onto the bed and pulled her onto your chest as you turned your phone back on. You were scared to confront the actions from last night, but knowing Rafe, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to even send you a text about it. You were quickly proven wrong the moment your phone turned back on. The vibration from all of the texts, voicemails, and snapchats felt like it lasted for five straight minutes. Nearly all were from the boy you wanted nothing to do with. Although, you noticed a voicemail from Topper, who you forgot even had your number.

Um, hey its Topper. Look dude, I don’t know what happened, but Rafe is freaking out like a bitch right now. He keeps mumbling shit about how he fucked things up with, which I didn’t even know you two were a thing but whatever I don’t really care. He kicked everyone out of my house and has been calling and texting you for like thirty minutes straight now so please call him back, so he shuts the fuck up. If not for him, do it for my sanity before I kill him. Uh, yeah, thanks, bye.

You sighed deeply after the voicemail cut off, your heart rate increasing at the thought of Rafe being upset. If he was bad enough that Topper of all people called you, you knew it was bad. You wanted to not care because of how he made you feel, but you did. You’ve always cared about the blond boy more than you cared to admit. You finally decided to look at the messages he sent you.

Y/N pls call me back

I’m sorry its not what it looks like and I know that sounds stupid but its true

Pls talk to me. I need u to talk to me

I promise that I never wanted to hurt u ok???

I love you, Y/N. Please call me or I’m coming to your house tomorrow.

The world stopped spinning when you read the last message. You kept reading it over and over again as if you misread it the first time. Rafe had never been any kind of affectionate with you until he called you baby. Rafe Cameron was not someone known to get emotional, so you weren’t sure if you believed his words. He was a liar and would do anything to get what he wanted, so what was different now?

You heard a knock on the door followed by your moms muffled voice, but you were too focused on the situation in front of you to notice who it was. Your eyes were glued to the screen, staring at the three words you never thought anyone other than your family and friends would say to you. The world around you was fading away, your heart feeling as if it was going to beat out of your chest as tears slid down your still puffy cheeks. You weren’t going to let him do this to you. You weren’t going to let him toy with you anymore.

“Y/N,” A deep voice dragged you out of your subconscious.

Your eyes darted over to the door and saw the last person you wanted to see. Rafe was standing there, his eyes wide and blood shot and he looked like total shit. His hair was a wild mess, nothing like its usual tamed state. You met his gaze and you wished you hadn’t. One look from him and you were puddy in his hands. One look and every thought you had about never seeing him again flew out the window.

“Hey, can we talk,” He mumbled, his bright blue eyes looking everywhere but at you. “Please.”

Not trusting your words, you gave him a swift nod and gestured to the spot next to you on your bed. You leaned to the side and placed your cat on the ground, watching as she rubbed herself all over Rafe’s leg before scampering away. His walk to your bed was painfully slow, and you wanted to tell him to hurry up, but you knew that was unreasonable.

“What do you want, Rafe,” Your voice was harsh, trying to ignore the urge to reach out to him. “What do you want to talk about? How you only use me for your own pleasure? How you only ever even look at me when you’re drunk or high? How you lied to me? Wanna talk about that?”

Your anger surprised even yourself. One second you wanted to hold him in your arms and comfort him, but then the memory of how he treated you came back and flipped a switch in your brain. You don’t know how you feel and you hate it.

“I deserve every bit of your anger,” He breathed out, letting his hand fall dangerously close to your own, “But please let me explain everything to you, okay?”

“Fine,” You gave in, “Talk.”

“Yeah, thank you, okay. I really do want to talk to you when I’m not absolutely fucked, I do. I know that it doesn’t seem like that, but its true. I just, I can’t. Every time I look at you, think about you, I hear my dads voice screaming at me that I will never be good enough for anyone. I have this thought drilled into my head every day that no matter what I do, who I am, I am just never enough. To me, you’re no exception to that. In fact, you remind me even more. Wait no.”

Rafe rubbed both of his hands over his face and tugged at his hair, afraid that he’s already fucking this up. “Rafe,” You gently spoke up, turning to grab his hands from his face. “It’s fine. Keep going.”

His eyes met yours and you could see how strained he was. There were too many emotions swirling in his eyes for you to pinpoint exactly what he was feeling. “Okay, um, okay. To me, you are way too good for me, so the only time I feel comfortable talking to you is when I’m high. I’ve never had trouble talking to any girl before, but you’re more than that to me. You’re more than just some girl to me and it scares me, so I feel like I have to be, yanno, not me. When I talk to you. I want to be with you more than I have ever wanted to be with someone in my life”

Your hand was still holding his as you let his words sink in. Him revealing how his dad truly made him feel made your heart ache for him. It made you want to grab him by the face and tell him how he is more than good enough. You wanted to let him in, but you weren’t sure if you were ready for the risk that came along with it. You’re not sure if you want all the things that came with being with Rafe Cameron. He’s followed by hurt and lies, and you do feel guilty thinking that, but it’s been proven true countless times.

“Rafe, listen to me,” You began, moving so you were straddling him and holding his face in your hands. His hands immediately came to grip your hips, and you are well aware that this was a more than compromising situation. “I understand that your father is probably the worst person we both know, but that doesn’t excuse you lying to me. I don’t know if I can trust you, no matter how much I may want to.”

You watched as tears gather in his eyes, and he was doing his best to keep them at bay. He had never felt the way he feels about you before, and he’s more than aware that his reputation precedes him. He knows that he’s done nothing more than prove how untrusting he is to you, but he wouldn’t let that stop him from trying to prove to you that he means what he’s saying.

“I know that nothing I say will fix what I’ve already done. I know that, but I can show you just how much you mean to me, if you’ll let me. We can go at your pace. Do things your way. Just, please, give me another chance to prove myself to you.”

You’re searching for any detection of a lie in his eyes, in his voice, but you come up empty. You wipe away the stray tears that broke through his wall of protection. You hesitantly placed your forehead on his, and you could hear him take in a sharp breath at the connection. Your eyes fluttered closed, your nose brushing against his as you weighed all of your options.

“Did you mean what you to me? In your last text,” You whispered, too scared to open your eyes and look at him. “Do you actually love me?”

“More than you know,” His breath was hot against your chin, and he pulled you closer into him.

You decided to take a leap, dive into something that scared you more than anything. Your lips finally met his, and Rafe wasted no time in returning the feeling. Your hands fell from his cheeks and clasped each other behind his neck, while his hands stayed placed on your hips, too scared to push you too far. You deepened the passion filled kiss by pulling him closer to you and running your tongue across his bottom lip. Rafe’s lips moved in such a sensual way that you almost didn’t know how to react. It was much different from the lust filled kisses you’ve shared in the past. You started moving your hips on top of him, an action that had him gripping your hips tighter than before.

Y/N,” Rafe breathed out after he broke away from you, “If you don’t stop, I don’t know if I can control myself.”

“Then don’t.”

i have not edited this so if you see a mistake lmk. love u

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #obx #obx imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine

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nevadas-night-time-novelist · 2 years

Text

Deimos + lil sister reader

Today had been mentally taxing, and all you felt like doing was just laying above the covers of your bunk and staring up at the metal ceiling. You may have been just a tween, but everyone has to earn their keep at SQ, regardless of age, gender, disability and any other defining factors.

Thanks to your small frame, you were perfect for scouting and espionage, covert spying and relaying information to your superiors. Some of them were assholes, some of them were nice. Unfortunately douche bag supreme Clark had been the one overseeing you today, and nothing was ever good enough for him.

“Eyyy, there’s my favourite sister.” You didn’t break your gaze from the ceiling. “Hey Deimos.” “Whoa, that didn’t sound too cheery. You alright pipsqueak?” Deimos crossed the room and sat on the edge of your bunk, tilting his visor back to get a good look at you.

“Hard mission. Plus Clark was debriefing me.” “Oh, him.” Dei squeezed your arm reassuringly. “He’s a dick, don’t pay him any mind.” You sat up and wrapped your arms around him. “I hate him. I wish I could be doing stuff like you, at least your boss is nice to me.”

Deimos embraced you in return, resting his chin on top of your forehead. “Doc is nice with you? He’s not nice to me.” You laughed softly. “That’s because you mess around when you’re supposed to be working.”

He laughed in return. “Hey, if you can’t have a little fun while you’re working, what’s the point?” Dei let out a soft purr as he snuggled into you, his pyrokinesis radiating a comforting warmth throughout his body.

“Y'know I’ve got some free time, what’s say you and I grab some ice cream and other junk food and settle down in my room where we can watch whatever cheesy movies you want. Being cooped up in here and thinkin’ about negative shit isn’t gonna to your head any better, you feel me?”

Deimos himself was no stranger to depression and self loathing, he was blessed enough to have people around him who cared enough to break the mould and pull him from the depths. “Please.”

He wrapped you in your sheet and scooped you into his arms, carrying you off to his own shared room with Sanford. “Fordie is out, so it’s just you and me tonight.”

“Good.” You blurted out, before realising how mean that sounded. “I-I just meant you and I don’t spend much time together anymore, don’t get me wrong. I love Ford.” Dei’s usual grin faded.

“Uh…Oh…Yeah.” He rubbed his cheek against yours. “I’m busy a lot. I feel guilty about leaving you behind all the time, trust me. When I’m away I think about you all the time. I swear, I’m gonna make more time for you. Doc’ll understand, and he can have words with Clark and his attitude too. Pretty sure the old man scares him.”

He set you down on the couch and pulled out a secret chest full of junk snacks, his and Ford’s secret stash. You flicked through Dei’s collection of movies as he set the chest on the table and fished out a tub of ice cream from his mini freezer, and a couple of cans of soda from the mini fridge.

Deimos nestled next to you, tossing his own blanket over you both and handing you the ice cream and a spoon. “So, what we watching sis?” You’d binge movies all night, shooting the shit with your big brother and devouring snacks, grateful that he was making an effort.

In the morning, Doc was irritated that Deimos was late again, storming into his room and- stopping dead in his tracks, venom on his tongue dissipating in an instant as he saw Deimos and his sister both snuggled together, cozy and fast asleep on the couch.

Come to think of it, Deimos had mentioned to him several times recently that he’d wanted to spend a bit more time with you. Perhaps its time to take you under their wings, train you up from just covert missions and start you in the big leagues.

You might just be a kid, but Doc needs all the help he can get, you’ve proven your capabilities, or so Clark had said. Besides, Sanford and Hank both enjoyed working with you too, the former gushing about it openly, the latter always in a better mood. And Doc would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy your company too.

Maybe its time to run with the wolves.

#madness combat #madcom #madness combat x reader #madcom x reader #madness combat reader insert #madcom reader insert #x gon deliver to ya #deimos #deimos x reader

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kunimikat · 3 years

Note

Hi-!! Can I get Kenma HCs? 👉👈

Okay so I wasn’t sure if you meant general ‘Kenma just being Kenma’ HCs or relationship HCs so I did both I also added a lil imagine at the end 😺 (this isn’t fully proof read but there should be small mistakes only)

Requests are open!

When you and Kenma first got together, he was genuinely surprised how little you cared about how other people felt about you guys together

He’d always feel insecure when the sly remarks like ‘Wow Y/N and Kenma? I never imagined.’ Or ‘Y/N is probably just with him out of pity.’ would be whispered around him

Just every jab someone could get out they said it loud enough for him to hear it.

But by the time he’d try to ignore what they’re saying and think about it later, your either cussing them out, ignoring them, or ignoring them and kissing him instead

And Kenma wasn’t complaining

He wasn’t a fan of PDA other then holding hands but there are acceptions (ahem^) But most of the time he’s only hugging you when he as small anxiety attacks in public

Kenma has mostly oversized hoodies and tends to pick at his sleeves when he gets nervous so just know when you steal his hoodies be careful

If you get one of the loose strings caught on something that hoodie is becoming threads in seconds.

He really likes it if you play with his hands of fingers, or when he’s gaming if you wrap your legs from behind him and just be there together he really enjoys it

But don’t lay in his lap because he will bonk you on the head on accident if he rages

Without even realizing it Kenma sometimes goes on about you to Kuroo or Hinata, but by the time he realizes it he blushes at the smug looks on their faces

One time you face planted and Kenma laughed so hard he lost his voice, but I kind of ended up good because he cuddled with you the entire healing time

When you want to go outside with him it’s either shopping, looking for new games, or talking while bumping a volleyball over to each other

Sometimes you’d catch Kenma randomly scrunching his nose up while you’re about to sleep to in class while you guys are doing your work

You didn’t know why he did it until he told you that he’d think about something he regretted and he just:

Kenma regularly FaceTimes you, Kuroo, or Hinata or all of you at once to talk about a game release he’s really excited for

When he teaches you how to play a game he will either sit next to you or have his arms wrapped around you. Softly telling what buttons to press and what to do.

And once you get the hang of a game, one day he’ll just wake up and choose violence, deciding to troll the hell out of you just to get a reaction (silent cackling Kenma intestifies)

You and Kenma made a discord server together for the Nekoma team so you guys could talk regularly or just schedule hangouts

Ok but I feel like Kenma would be with someone who radiates the same energy as Hinata or Kuroo. Or someone who has both. Orrr on the other side of the spectrum where he’s with someone that’s just like ‘Whatever happens, happens.’

I mean, of course not exactly like them but Kenma is friends with both of them for a reason-

I feel like it’s canon the Kenma just glares at Lev from time to time for Lev just being...Lev, but when he gets with you it happens more often because Lev always makes it his goal to see you laugh or talk to you constantly

In which Kenma gets jealous and silently tells Yaku he slacking off

This mans is a silent menace to society and he does not care

Ok I also feel like sometimes he’d take you to a new cafe that just opened, get the most sweetest or most bitter thing there, and let you have it just to mess with you.

His way to ask you for affection is when he’d just kind of stand there next to you like ‘🧍😺’ Or just kind of expects you to initiate it in general

But when you start to do it less and less, Kenma feels like you both are starting to feel more like friends than lovers

So when you kind of leave him alone suddenly, he thinks he did something wrong and tries to make it up himself

Your eyes we’re getting tired of the flashing screen. The vibrant colors clashing and moving quickly. You blink, getting out of the trance the TV screen pulled you in. You were starting to see why Kenma got so addicted to this game. You felt your stomach rumble. You groaned a little, not wanting to leave the warm blanket wrapped around you, but feeling your stomach rumble again, you sigh and unwinded yourself from the heat, and made your way to the kitchen. Kenma felt movement but ignored it, thinking it was just you getting comfortable. But when he didn’t hear your small cheers or nudges when he won the round he looked back to see you’re not there. Slight panic rose in him. He shrugged it off at first. Though his thoughts started to get to him. Were you getting bored of him? Did you feel ignored? Wait...did you leave?

Kenma paused the game, and was out of the room in seconds. He made his way downstairs in a hurry, but instead he breathed a sigh of relief. You were rummaging through the fridge. Probably looking for something quick, but his parents haven’t went shopping so he knew it was nothing there. An idea came to his head, covering half of his face with his hand. He pursed his lips and hoped he didn’t embarrass himself.

As you were raiding looking through the fridge, you heard a small ‘fuck it’ and felt arms wrap around your waist. You looked back in shock, essentially freezing on the spot as you looked at him dumbfounded. And to be fair Kenma almost never initiated physical contact. So you just kind of looked at him. You were kind of taking in this moment. Kenma stopped breathing, his face flushed. It turning red, going down his neck.

“I-I’m sorry, that was stupid, you probably hated that. I-“

Kenma grimanced and hid his face, rushing back up to his room. You called out to him but the door was already closed when you did. You sighed in annoyance at yourself. Quickly making your way up not that long after him. You placed a hand over your heart when the door wasn’t locked. You looked into the room lit by the bright TV screen to see a hump under the fluffy cat themed blanket on the bed. You slap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. Instead you crawl onto the bed, stopping right by him. Rubbing his back, he jumped at your touch then seemingly sinking further into the mattress.

“Ken? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to not respond, it’s just you usually don’t start a hug I got so surprised.”

A moment of silence passed, you hear a huff, he scooted away from you. You couldn’t help the small smile that made its way onto your face, you took out your phone, snapping a picture. You laugh into your hand but go back to rubbing his back.

“Aww c’mon Ken don’t be like this, I’m sor-“

“I should be saying sorry, it’s not your fault. You probably didn’t like my scrawny arms around you anyway...I’ve also not been talking to you as much as I should and you probably hate me.”

You deadpanned at him, then yanked the blanket off him. You swore your heard a small squeal but decided to ignore it. “Y’know, you said a lot of ‘probables’. Stop assuming things without talking to me, you know I love you. I won’t ever judge you like that Kenma. Plus I expected you to be like this when we got into it in the first place. I wouldn’t get with someone I’m not attracted to Ken. So stop all that insecure stuff before I kiss it out of you.” Kenma face heated up at that, he looked anywhere but you, flustered that you said it with such confidence. You placed a hand onto his cheek. He looked shocked at first, but it was replaced by a small smile adorning his pretty features, he gently caressed your hand.

But you ultimately decided to ruin the moment when you flicked his forehead as you got up.

“Alright get your dorito dust headass up cause we’re gonna order takeout.”

Kenma held his forehead, giving you a playful glare, pouting afterwards. He got up off the bed, grabbing his phone and heading downstairs. “Whatever get your hungry ass down here so we can order something.”

“Kenma you- ugh”

Kenma felt a smile tug at his lips as you continued to bicker throughout the time you were ordering.

Hey 😺. Seriously, I enjoyed this request so I’d love to do more of these. The dorito dust insult came from a friend who just started Haikyuu and that’s what she said and it had me cackling so there you go. But enjoy some cute Kenma HCs. I was gonna make it angsty but I forgot to do Valentines so🤸 Also I did more HCs to make up for bad 3am imagine but 🤠

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xlonelysoulxx · 3 years

Text

Being a Mermaid and Jacob’s Imprint Would Include... {2}

{gif isn’t mine}

xxxxx

You had disappeared for a whole month. You had only sent Leah a few messages after the incident, to give a sign of life and reassure the pack... which hadn’t helped matters when Jacob found out. "WHY didn't you tell me?!” “You acted like a f*cking jerk, why should I have?" The tension was so overwhelming, to the point where the other wolves must have come between them that day. Leah wanted to protect her friend, and Jacob wanted to get his imprint back. But he couldn't.

xxxxx

You hadn’t planned to come back, not so soon... this is what you had entrusted to the pretty wolf. You wanted to get some distance... away from Forks, from La Push... and from Jacob. You couldn't take it anymore. It was already hard that he treated you so coldly ‘cause he loved one another, but seeing him tear himself apart with his brothers... because of you? It was too much. It had gone way too far.

xxxxx

Grudge and worry kept growing among the wolves even when Jacob were gone, wandering god knows where near the Canadian border. Guilt and pain had kept twisting him from the inside ever since, and hearing the thoughts of his pack... especially when it came to you, had become torture. Even Jared, who had felt at fault at first, only felt annoyance now. Jacob was a ball of nerves ready to explode at any moment, while he was the one who had behaved badly in the first place. Fuck... he could have hurt you?! All because he had let himself be overcome by his emotions, emotions that he wasn’t yet ready to assume out loud.

xxxxx

The feeling of lack linked to the imprint was so strong that it sometimes prevented you from breathing, but that wasn't the worst. It was at that moment... that you realized how much you were in love with Jacob Black.

xxxxx

Even the pull of the bond wasn't as strong as the crack forged in your heart. A gash already wide open over the past few weeks (consciously or not) by the constant presence of Isabella Swan - hunted by Victoria - and now gaping as you left the Quileute... and Jacob, behind you. It was clear, the difference between these feelings - as if your heart and your guts were going in two distinct directions. How stupid you were... as if fate wasn't cruel enough like that.

xxxxx

You were quite surprised to see Alice and Jasper appear at your workplace one morning, a small neighborhood library near Port Angeles. It was brand new, no one knew about it. No one except Alice. Obviously... What were they doing there? You weren't particularly close to the Cullens, but you liked the lil’ brunette quite a bit. Did something happen? Did he... no, Leah would have warned you. Right..?

xxxxx

“He's stupidly stubborn, and guilty. But he's fine... for now.” You no longer understood anything, since when did Alice appreciate Jacob? She didn’t. But she couldn't control her visions. Time was running out. An army was approaching, Bella was once again the center of attention... and the future had darkened. The two clans who called themselves enemies had decided to unite reluctantly, to protect her - but what was your role in this story?

xxxxx

“Don't get me wrong, Alice... I don't wish Bella any harm.” You were boiling from the inside, but Bella wasn't the reason of your pain... Jacob was. You had no animosity towards the young girl, the shapeshifter was mature enough to make his own choices. It was between you and him, and yet. “But you came here for nothing.” You didn't look her in the eye anymore, busy sorting through the same books over and over in your hands. You couldn't believe she had come here just for this. She wanted you to come back to him, so he could come back to her... come back to Bella. To protect her.

xxxxx

Jasper hadn't moved from his place since their arrival, standing proudly straight behind his beloved. He could easily sense your anger, mixed with pain and incomprehension... and just like that, your eyes met his for a long second. “You should listen to her, Y/N.” You could feel a wave of appeasement sweep over you, immediately glaring at the vampire. "And you shouldn’t try to manipulate my emotions, Jasper."

xxxxx

“He won't survive it, Y/N... I saw it.” You could feel your blood running cold through your veins. What was she talking about?? Jacob was actually back in Forks, for more than a week now. But he was a freaking mess. He made sure to stay away from the pack, irritable... unpredictable, and more closed than ever. Quite the opposite of who he really was. You could feel your heart skipping a beat... Alice had glimpsed the impending confrontation, and the outcome had been fatal for the brown wolf.

xxxxx

No, no, no... it couldn't happen. It. Couldn't. The information was too much to handle as you began to hyperventilate like an idiot in the store, Jasper immediately moving to your side. You couldn't let him get killed all this because he was distracted by the whole "imprint thing”, no... you could never forgive yourself for it. You would leave your pride aside without any hesitation for him, everything for him... no matter the welcome you would receive in return.

xxxxx

The car ride was terribly quiet. The battle would take place in three days, so there was no time to waste. Your boss had been accommodating enough to give you your afternoon (he seemed to be pleased by your work, good for you) and this is where you were now... on the road back to Forks, sitting in the back of Alice's car. She had insisted on taking you there given your emotional state, and you were silently grateful for that. You could feel the anguish mounting as you approached the Quileute reserve, unconsciously wriggling in your seat.

xxxxx

“Stop the car.” The air was too thick to breathe, and you felt like you were drowning... there was only one way to fix it. You were close enough now, you could join the reserve on your own... but not right away. You quickly thanked the couple before slamming the door, taking the path to the forest under the worried gaze of the petite brunette. You ran, unable to stop before reaching the impressive cliff... not thinking twice before jumping.

xxxxx

You felt like you could finally breathe again as the icy water came in contact with your hot skin. You haven't been back to the ocean since the incident, and you had missed it - terribly. You could feel a pinch in your stomach as you rose to the surface, quickly looking up as your eyes instantly fell on the huge brown wolf that stood high on the rocks. Jacob. He was there... how?

xxxxx

You dived again after an endless exchange of glances, taking longer than necessary to reach the shore. A part of you feared your reunion, while the other was just relieved and excited to see him again. Jacob had reached the beach at an impressive speed, the shapeshifter dressed warmer than usual while a large jacket and boots complemented the usual shorts specific to all Quileutes. His heart was pounding as he observed the surface, impatiently waiting to see you reappear. Were you even going to do it..? He couldn't believe you were really there.

xxxxx

And you did. Your feet sank into the wet sand as you left the sweet comfort offered by the waves, your long hair sticking to your skin like a second skin. You were completely exposed as the cold wind whipped through your entire body, Jacob's eyes never leaving yours as he took off his jacket… wasting no time wrapping it around you. The distance between you was ridiculously thin now, the silence heavy and comfortable at the same time. There was no room for shyness here, it was Jacob. And despite everything that had happened you had full confidence in him.

xxxxx

None of you dared to speak first... almost like it's going to shatter the present moment, and bring bad memories to the surface. “I was afraid I had hurt you.” He finally confessed, almost shamefully. Start at the beginning, yeah... it was good. “I'm sorry I disappeared... I just panicked.” You answered briefly, but he cut you off almost immediately.“You don't have to feel sorry for anything, Y/N. I should. For everything.” He really was. He wanted to tell you how sorry he was, how much he had missed you... and how much he loved you. But he didn't have the right. Not now, and maybe never. But repeating it to you, showing you how sorry he was and how much he regretted the way he had treated you... seemed like a good start. He wanted to be the best imprint for you... a friend, a protector. If you wanted him to be. He didn't want to be separated from you like that anymore. Never again.

xxxxx

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the erratic changes in his breathing… and the heat radiating from his body which was enveloping you like a soft blanket. He meant every word. You were sure of it. And it was, indeed, a good start... yes. It was like a silent acceptance, like a secret language between the two of you... your throat tightening a bit before you wrapped your arms around him.

xxxxx

Jacob automatically tightens his embrace around you, selfishly accepting the gesture of affection you both needed so badly. He trapped your body against his, resting his chin against the top of your head as you stood on your tiptoes... inhaling his scent. There he was, alive and safe in your arms... and that was all that mattered right now. And you were going to make sure that it stays that way, no matter what.

xxxxx

But fate wasn't so lenient, you should have known that... it didn't rest only in your hands. Cruel reality exploded in your face that day, Jacob's scream echoing through the entire clearing at the same time as the sound of his ribs being broken by the newborn vampire. It all happened so fast. Leah had found herself trapped in the deadly embrace of one of them, Jacob had intervened... and now he was writhing in pain on the ground.

xxxxx

You had joined him in a few strides, stumbling alongside him as your heartbeat echoed through your ears. Carlisle stood by your side, examining the extent of the damage before the other members of the pack arrived in turn. His voice was twisted in pain as he tried to pronounce your name, squeezing your hand in his before the other wolves surrounded him to pick him up - Paul reluctantly pulling you away from your imprint. Tears filled your eyes, so much so that you hadn't even seen Bella arrive… the obvious horror on her face. How could this have happened? You thought you could change Alice's vision, you really believed you could... but you obviously failed. Literally.

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inkykeiji · 3 years

Text

day two ❅ cause i’m mrs. snow, til death we’ll be freezing

don’t cry snowman, don’t leave me this way, a puddle of water can’t hold me close, baby

day one ❅ day two ❅ day three | series masterlist

character: todoroki touya | dabi

genre: smut + angst

notes: weeee yay day two!! touya + co go ice skating :) this, again, was not supposed to be as long as it is, but eh here we are!! | title credit: snowman by sia

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), drug use, very rough sex, public sex, generally toxic relationships, size difference, tense family dynamics, reader’s probably a lil too obsessed with touya’s cum, slight dacryphilia, slight degradation

words: 8.3k

synopsis:

I’m only worried about you, you want to say. It isn’t your intention to put more stress on him, especially when being forced to spend nearly every waking minute around his blood siblings is evidently very difficult for him, but you don’t want him dead because of it, either.

“I love you,” you tell him instead, unsaid words sown into the fabric of the sentence.

But he doesn’t need to hear you say it, he can feel it—in the air around you, radiating off your frame in thick waves that crash into him in the most pleasant way; in the way your soft fingertips stroke his cheeks, tracing his features with the utmost gentleness; in the way you gaze so tenderly at him, eyes sweeping across his face akin to the most compassionate caress.

It all makes him feel like he can do this, like he might actually survive this, so long as you’re by his side.

❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅

The wind howls gently, picking up swirls of snow and dusting it against the window, the snowflakes soft taptaptap’s echoing among the tiny bedroom. It’s grey but bright outside, the morning of December 22nd. Strands of hair stick to your cheeks and neck, chills erupting across your skin as you wiggle around beneath Touya’s heavy arm, laying across your waist in a loose grasp, your movements causing the blanket to slip from your clammy skin, a soft hiss spit through your teeth as the cool air of the room hits your heated skin. Touya’s got his head buried in the pillow, his torso laying half on top of yours, legs intertwined.

“Touya-nii,” you whimper, eyebrows furrowing a little in frustration as you struggle under him. “Niichan,”

“Mmph,” he emits an unintelligible noise in response, muffled by the pillow.

“Niichaaaaan,” the honorific leaves your lips in a whine, giving another weak shove at his arm. “Niichan, you’re so hot, I’m gonna melt,”

“Too bad. We’re not getting up yet,”

You whine again, your squirming becoming more vigorous. “But Touya-nii, I’m so thirsty! Please, my mouth is drier than the desert, I swear to God,”

“If you don’t stop acting like a brat, I’m gonna fuck you like a brat,”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

That gets his attention, fluffy head shooting up, white tufts tousled and standing on end, sleepy eyes squinting against the sudden light as he tries to glare at you. “Excuse me?”

The deep, rough lilt to his voice, heavy with sleep, makes your stomach flutter, blood rushing to your cheeks as you gaze at him.

Even in the morning, he’s stupidly beautiful.

“G-Got you up,” you giggle a little, reaching forward to run your fingers through his messy hair, smoothing it down in the process.

He deadpans, glaring at you for a moment, though there’s no heat in his eyes. You stare back, blinking twice, little fingers trailing down the side of his face and then tracing his jaw, murmuring about how pretty he is.

“Pretty, huh?” he finally sighs, a small grin spreading across his cheeks, head tilting to the side as your fingers travel down his neck, tracing the intricate black ink.

“Mm, very pretty,” you whisper to yourself, eyes zeroing in on his adams apple as it bobs with his chuckle. “But I’m still thirsty,”

He laughs again, rolling his eyes and pushing himself up completely, sheets pooling at his waist. “Fucking brat,”

It’s just past 9am, but the kitchen is empty. Touya carries you there, and even though you’re more than capable of walking by yourself, you snuggle into his neck, scattering gentle kisses across the scarred skin, head resting against his broad shoulder.

He exhales a sigh as you do so, and you can physically feel the tension leaving his body, a tiny bit more with each kiss you press against him.

A soft yelp hitches in your throat as he places you on the counter, cold marble stinging the bare skin of your thighs, Touya smirking at the sound as he wanders over to the fridge, rooting through it for a moment before turning back towards you.

“Water?” you make a face. Touya deadpans for the second time in fifteen minutes.

“You said you were thirsty, did you not?”

“Yeah, but…” you trail off shyly, hooking your ankles together and swinging your legs a little. “I wanted chocolate milk,”

“No,” he says instantly, slamming the fridge shut with more force than necessary, jars jiggling and clinking together with the motion. “Water first,” he uncaps the bottle and holds it out to you. “Don’t you dare start pouting,” he adds, when your eyebrows are beginning to knit together, voice stern. “You did not drag me out of bed at nine in the fucking morning because your mouth was drier than the desert just to pout when I give you water. You know you aren’t allowed sugar first thing in the morning, baby,”

You suppose he has a point, working hard to smooth your face as you take the bottle from him.

“M’sorry, niichan,” you murmur before taking a sip, gazing at him through your lashes.

He glares at you for another moment before a tiny grin breaks his face, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

“You’re really testing me this morning,” he mumbles as large hands pry your knees apart, wedging his hips between your thighs while hands curl around your hips and drag you towards the edge of the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist—an automatic reaction—ankles hooking again and holding him close, bodies pressed flush together.

Something’s still off, you can tell, evident in the way his head drops the moment you’re close enough, forehead resting against the crown of your head, exhaling.

“It’s not very nice, babygirl,” he speaks again after a beat of silence, calloused hands slipping under your—his, your mind reminds you—t-shirt, palming your hips. “Think you should make it up to me, hmm?”

And you want to, God, do you ever want to, want to kiss all of his sorrow away, want to pull those gorgeous broken whines and throaty moans from him, want to help him forget about whatever it is that’s bothering him so deeply, to lock it out of his head, shoving it from his mind as his brain is filled with thoughts of you. But…

“B-But niichan, we’re in the kitchen,” you have to force the trembling words from your mouth, biting down hard on your lip to keep from moaning as his teeth skim along your neck, evoking a full body shiver.

“So?” his lips brush against your skin, nimble fingers dipping into your cute pink panties.

“Anyone could—could come in any second and—”

“What? Catch us?” he pulls back a little, smirking. “And?” sapphire searches your face as heat rushes to your cheeks, rushes shamefully between your legs. He snorts a moment later, pressing two fingers against your clothed cunt. “Exactly,” the word is just a huff of breath as he nudges his nose against yours. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“I—”

“Don’t try lying,” he sounds bored as he cuts you off, fingers rubbing at your little hole through the damp cotton of your panties. “Your pussy’s very honest,”

And the broken whine that hitches in your chest is nothing short of absolutely pathetic, back arching and eyes fluttering as he begins flicking his thumb over your clit, keeping his touches light and fast.

“Yeah,” he breathes, the word bordering on a growl. “Of course you would. Bet you could cum from just this if Natsuo were watching, huh? Want everyone to know how easy you are for niichan? How much of a good little slut you are for niichan?”

“You planning on testing that theory out?”

Natsuo’s unexpected voice makes you jump, eyes snapping open and flying to his face as you choke on a gasp, Touya’s thumb choosing then to press hard against your swollen little clit, forcing an embarrassingly loud cry from your lips and paying no mind to his younger brother, who’s leaning casually against the doorframe with a smirk decorating his face. In fact, Touya doesn’t react to Natsuo at all—

Because he already knew.

“N-Niichan,” you nearly wail, burying your scalding face in his shoulder, nails digging into the smooth muscles of his back.

“Aww,” Natsuo coos, and he sounds genuine. “C’mon, don’t hide from me, sweetheart,”

“What, now you’re shy? When you were about to get off on the very thought just moments ago?” Touya’s patronizing chuckle vibrates against you, though his hands are on your back, petting you in smooth, soothing motions.

“Niisan, don’t tease,” Natsuo laughs, and you smush your face harder against Touya’s shoulder, whimpering a little as Natsuo’s voice gets closer. “I just figured if you two were gonna have a cheeky lil fuck in the kitchen, the least you could do is let me watch,”

Touya begins laughing again, starts to say something, voice abruptly cutting off. You stiffen, clinging to him, breath bated as you listen.

“Surprised you two were the first ones up,” Fuyumi’s voice floats through the space, tone clipped.

You peak out from over Touya’s shoulder, watching as Fuyumi fiddles around with their extremely expensive coffeemaker, a deep scowl etched into her face.

“Oh? And why’s that?” Touya asks lightly, sounding genuinely surprised, innocently curious.

“You know why,” she snaps, slamming her coffee mug down on the granite countertop and whipping her head around to glare at her older brother.

Touya chuckles and shakes his head, maintaining that he doesn’t, he swears, and if you didn’t know any better, if you couldn’t see the smug smirk on his face, the mocking amusement swirling in his eyes, you’d believe him to be telling the truth.

But Fuyumi knows him better than that, rolling her eyes and grumbling unintelligibly under her breath. Shouto chooses then to enter the kitchen, hair slightly mussed, looking a little like a white and red haystack atop his head, and Touya’s body goes rigid.

He yawns out his morning greeting, glancing around the room, mismatched eyes lingering on your bare thighs for just a second too long.

Touya notices, because Touya notices everything—especially when it comes to Shouto, cobalt eyes sharp and trained on his every movement—moving to shield you with his body as best he can.

“C’mon princess,” he’s mumbling as his hands force their way under your ass, hefting you up again. “Let’s go,”

And no one misses the way Shouto watches the two of you leave, the way his sleepy eyes focus on your ass—just barely concealed by the cotton panties, Touya’s hands providing more coverage than the garment does—then move down to his brother’s shameless erection, partially obscured by your body, inhaling a sharp gasp that everyone hears, that everyone knows what it’s in reaction to, that everyone ignores.

❅ ❅ ❅

Today’s activity is ice skating, Rei tells you as your exiting the cabin.

She looks excited, a smile on her soft lips, eyes bright as she pats your shoulder, and it makes warmth flutter in your chest, glad to see the events of yesterday haven’t completely dampened her mood.

“Do you know how to skate?” Natsuo asks you, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

“I do,” you say proudly, looking over at Rei as you reach Touya’s car, sharing a grin. “Rei taught me not long after she and my father started dating,”

“Aw, mom,” Natsuo coos, looking over at his mother for reassurance. “That’s sweet,”

Rei hums, nodding as her eyes drift back to yours.

“Hold on a second,” she says as her smile slowly begins to dissipate, glancing from Touya’s hand on the handle of his car’s passenger door, to your face, to Natsuo standing by his own car a few feet away, brows knitting.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting in the car?” his response comes out as a question, spoken slowly as he’s worried it’s the wrong answer, tilting his head a little like a puppy.

“There’s no need for you to take more than one car,” Rei says pointedly, her gaze darting to Touya, holding his eyes even though she was speaking to Natsuo. His mouth falls open to protest, but she continues. “The five of you will fit in one. We’ll see you there,”

Her tone is final as she turns away and gets into her own car, the five of you watching in silence as it reverses onto the road, snow and ice cracking and popping under the thick tires. Natsuo turns back to the group, a large, boyish smile on his face.

“It’s fine! We’ll take my car,” Natsuo’s eyes soften a little as he looks over at his silver Porsche, patting the roof affectionately.

“No,” Fuyumi responds immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Stone eyes fly back to her face, alarmed. “What! Why?”

“Because you drive like a lunatic—I refuse to ride in any car when you’re behind the wheel,”

Natsuo frowns as he rounds his car, coming to stand with the group. “Well your car isn’t here, since you came up with mom, so—”

“We can take Touya’s car,”

“No,” Touya nearly growls, the unexpected rumbling deep in his chest causing everyone to flinch.

“Why not?” Fuyumi’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, eyes narrowing slightly as she glances at her older brother. “I can’t think of any reason—”

“He is not stepping foot in my fucking car,”

Fuyumi’s eyes widen slightly, staring at him in disbelief, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding, or are you really that stupid?”

“Touya-nii,” you gasp softly, tugging on his arm a little and then hugging it to your chest. His voice drips with venom, sharper than a tungsten needle, and it makes both you and Natsuo wince, despite not being the object of his fury.

“Fine, Christ, I just won’t come then,” Shouto finally chimes in with a roll of his eyes. “Will that make you happy?”

Touya whirls around to face him, rips his arm from your grasp so aggressively, so suddenly, that it sends you stumbling backwards. Natsuo catches you quickly, righting you with an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“You wanna know what would make me happy? You fucking de—”

“That’s enough,” Fuyumi cuts him off with a glare so fierce it sends chills skittering across your skin, regardless of the thick sweaterdress and heavy jacket you’re currently wrapped up in. Natsuo must feel it course through your body, because he pulls you tighter against him, fingers digging into your shoulder.

Touya’s eyes snap to his sister, raising an eyebrow as a terrifying smile spreads across his face. It’s a smile you’ve only seen a few times before, gleaming white teeth on display, angular jaw clenched tightly. It’s a smile that makes icy dread pool in your stomach, thick and heavy, and you try to press yourself closer to Natsuo, body flush against his side, partially hiding your face in his chest.

Still, Fuyumi does not waver. “You are an adult, Touya. For God’s sake, act like one! Shouto is not a disease—”

“Could’ve fooled me,”

“—that will infect your car! He’s your baby brother!”

Touya’s eye twitches at the term, painful smile stretching even wider. In the pale afternoon sunlight, those glinting white teeth look pointier than normal, and you whimper into Natsuo’s chest.

“My car, my rules,”

“Oh my God! Are you being ser—”

“Alright, this is getting a little ridiculous,” Natsuo jumps in quickly, trying to keep his voice light. “You’re scaring our little princess, niisan,” he says, voice softer, a large hand rubbing your shoulder in comfort.

Touya spins around again, wild sapphire eyes finding yours, his face falling the moment your gazes meet.

Little fingers have tangled themselves in Natsuo’s jacket, clinging to him so hard the skin over your knuckles is stretched taut. Your entire body trembles as you blink hard, trying in vain to clear the tears rushing to your eyes. The pounding of your heart echoes in your ears, so loud you can’t hear what Touya says as he swoops towards you, eyes wide and worried.

“We’ll take my car, and Fuyumi will drive.”

Natsuo’s voice holds the same note of finality that his mother’s does, large hand still curled around your shoulder as firm stone eyes scan the three faces in front of him.

❅ ❅ ❅

Touya refuses to have you and Shouto in the back seat alone, and Natsuo insists that he sits in the passenger seat, to make sure Fuyumi doesn’t hurt his baby, he explains, which is how you end up smack in the middle of the oldest and youngest Todoroki children.

It’s cramped—they’re both too big to be in the backseat of such a small car—resulting in the three of you being squished together, your body packed in tightly—practically wedged—between theirs.

It’s nearly impossible to keep your thigh from brushing against Shouto’s, but you try anyway, leaning into Touya as much as you can. A strong, possessive arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, fingers fisted in the material of your little sweaterdress, sapphire eyes hyper-focused on the way Shouto’s corduroy clad thigh keeps knocking against your bare knee with every gentle jolt of the car.

But when Shouto idly drops his large hands heavily to his lap with a sigh, long fingers splayed casually, just the very tip of his pinky resting against your thigh—well.

Touya sees fucking red, yanking your body away from his little brother immediately with a vicious growl caught in his throat, the movement so sudden and unexpected it has both you and Shouto gasping, heterochromatic eyes wide and alert as they snap to his eldest brother’s face,

He hadn’t even noticed. Truthfully, you probably wouldn’t have either if it hadn’t been Touya’s suffocating, overbearing presence beside you—engulfing you, causing you to be excessively aware of every miniscule movement, every jostle and touch and bump.

“Don’t fucking touch her,”

It takes Shouto another half a second before the realization hits him, eyes darting down to his thighs, finally taking note of the placement of his fingers. Then he’s scoffing, rolling his eyes as he huffs to himself, quiet and under his breath, something about Touya being absolutely ridiculous and childish and insecure.

Yet Shouto’s legs spread a little more every time Touya pulls you a few centimeters closer to him, ensuring that your thighs can never quite escape his, his strong muscles constantly nudging against yours.

It isn’t until you push your knee back against his, hard and purposeful, giving Shouto a sharp look, that this behaviour finally halts.

“Who’s being childish now?” you hiss, eyes holding his sternly, widening a moment later as if to say, Stop aggravating him.

Shouto’s face falls, lips tugging down into a frown as his gaze searches your face, head shaking a little. He opens his mouth—to apologize, you think—but is cut off by Touya’s immature snickering, his chest vibrating against your back.

“Fuck you,” he seethes instead, eyes narrowing and mouth snapping into a firm, unimpressed line.

“Watch it—”

“Play nice, you two,” Natsuo warns from the front seat. “I won’t hesitate to pull this car over and beat both your asses on the side of the road for everyone to see,”

“Okay, dad,” Shouto snorts as Touya simultaneously responds with, “I’d like to see you try,”

Nevertheless, Natsuo’s little warning does manage to shut them up for the remainder of the ride, Shouto crossing his legs, knees pressed up painfully against the door in an attempt to stop touching you. You’re practically in Touya’s lap by the time you arrive at the Ena Skating Rink at Crystal Park, seatbelt uncomfortably biting into your flesh through your clothing.

“I don’t understand why we had to drive an hour just to go skating,” Shouto grumbles just as Fuyumi turns into the parking lot, face set in a deep frown, eyebrows furrowed as he glares out the window. “There was a perfectly fine lake like, ten minutes from the cabin,”

“Shou, you sound like a petulant teenager,”

“Technically, he is a petulant teenager,”

“Not for much longer,”

“That’s right, your birthday’s coming up,” you say automatically without thinking, words slipping from your mouth as Fuyumi circles the lot in search of a parking spot. In the past, Shouto would’ve ignored such a slip-up, figuring the politeness of providing you an answer not worth Touya’s wrath, but now he turns to face you with a small smile, heterochromatic eyes almost twinkling, mask of irritability burning off his face in an instant.

“Yeah, in a few weeks,” he shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll be twenty,”

Do you have any plans?

The question lingers on the tip of your tongue, words frozen at the back of your throat as Touya’s hand curls protectively around you, strong fingers digging into your plush waist hard enough to make you wince.

But Shouto has become pretty good at reading you over these past few years, no longer needs you to voice your thoughts—the two of you have become accustomed to communicating through looks and expressions alone, to keep from sending Touya into an absolute rampage, to keep the both of you safe.

“Not sure what I’m doing yet,” he answers, keeping his voice light, though those mismatched eyes are sharply trained on your face, ready to analyze and decode whatever expression your features morph into.

This is the first time he’s ever verbally answered, though, and it hits you like a bag of bricks swung at your chest, the realization that this is something the two of you have built up together, something the two of you have spent years doing, working together silently, quietly, subtly, to keep Touya placid, something the two of you have been subconsciously doing to protect each other.

The thought inspires an odd feeling in your stomach, chest tightening with something akin to anxiety, something bitter and heavy rooting in the pit of your belly.

Touya saves you from having to answer, hastily unbuckling your seatbelt for you the moment Fuyumi’s finished reversing the car and nearly hauling you out before she’s even cut the engine.

❅ ❅ ❅

“You’re not coming?” you ask Touya as he slips your foot into a skate, beginning to lace it up.

Touya shakes his head. “No,”

“Touya never learned how to skate—refused to, actually,” Natsuo informs you, sitting down next to you on the bench and playfully bumping his shoulder against yours.

Tilting you head, you stare at him, a soft little oh slipping from your lips. Touya avoids your gaze, jaw clenching rhythmically.

“It’s for the best. He really shouldn’t be near any sort of blade for an extended period of time, not while Shouto’s in reach,” Natsuo jokes, though no one laughs, because it’s true.

Touya spends most of his time leaning against the boards, bright sapphire eyes trained on you, glued to you, cataloging all of your movements, each of your cute little giggles and soft little smiles, every hand on your shoulder or waist as it steadies you.

It’s hard for him to watch.

It’s hard for him to watch the way your eyes twinkle as Fuyumi speaks to you, the two of you gliding around the ice nonchalantly, hard for him to watch the way Natsuo pulls endless laughter from your throat as his gloved hands hold yours, pulling you along with him, hard for him to watch when Shouto appears beside you, slowing his stride to talk animatedly to you, the two of you absorbed in whatever discussion you’re having.

And yet, he can tell something isn’t right. Your eyes are twinkling, but they don’t gleam the way they do when you gaze at him. You’re laughing, but it isn’t as bubbly and pure as it is when evoked by him. You’re talking, but you aren’t wholly and completely captivated by whatever it is Shouto’s saying to you, gaze constantly drifting just over his shoulder, connecting with Touya’s.

Those ten little words from the night before echo through his mind again, and his molars grind together, but the look in your eyes, the way your face positively lights up when you skate towards him, past him, blowing kisses and giggling behind mitten covered hands, stomps them to little pieces, to dust, your fleeting presence blowing them away. He feels like he can fucking breathe again, each time you glide by him, resolve hardening a little more with every lap past him.

No, he knows he’s the best for you, absolutely is without a doubt the very best for you— and you confirm it with that loving, adoring, doting look every single time.

Despite this, he keeps disappearing intermittently, your heart sinking just a little bit more every time you look over to see him nowhere to be found, a sour taste settling on the back of your tongue. This is only the second day into the trip and you’re already terrified, knowing that he’s filling his nostrils with that fine white powder the moment he begins to feel his high fading, the moment he feels himself beginning to come down.

And by the third time he vanishes within a single hour, you decide you can no longer stand by and do nothing, say nothing—he’s gone for more than usual this time, an uneasy sense of dread flooding your body, making your limbs tingle as your heart begins to race, plopping down on the wooden bench and bending down to quickly unlace your skates. Your voice shakes as you tell the others that you’d like to take a short break from skating, claiming that your feet are sore, and that you’d like to rest for a while.

In actuality, you’re sure they all know what you’re doing, itching to go search for Touya, heart pounding painfully as several scenarios flash through your mind, but they say nothing, nodding with those polite smiles they all plaster on their faces any time something like this occurs.

The muscles in your thighs ache as you jog across the snow-dusted field, eyes frantically darting around the large open space in search for a man with ivory hair and azure eyes. Your feet take off the moment you spot him, an instinctual reaction, breath ragged and burning in your chest as you barrel into him, winding your arms around his waist tightly and burying your face in his strong chest.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he’s murmuring softly, arms encircling you and squeezing you against him, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head. “What’s going on, princess?”

Pulling back, your eyes study his face, stomach plummeting when you see it.

“Out playing in the snow again?”

Cobalt eyes narrow, Touya tilting his head in question as he stares at you. A frown mars your face, deep sigh leaving your nostrils without your permission, and Touya bristles. A tender thumb swipes across his nose, showing him the pure white powder it gathers.

“Slow down,” you say softly, gently, cautious eyes watching him carefully. “I don’t want a trip to the ER for Christmas,”

He holds your gaze for a moment, and you can see it, the blue fire simmering deep within them, but because it’s Christmas—and only because it’s Christmas—he blinks twice, extinguishing the flame to dull embers.

Chest heaving once, deep and heavy, he sighs out of parted lips, holding your hand to his cheek. Sapphire eyes close briefly as he nuzzles his face into your touch, and for a moment—just for a second—you think he’s about to apologize.

But that would be a Christmas miracle.

“Keep me in line,” he says quietly, shoulders slumping a little in defeat, a tiny sardonic grin on his lips as his eyes open again, searching your face. “Okay? Can’t let my best girl down on Christmas, now, can I?”

And although his shoulders are straining under the weight of this new responsibility—to try and restrain himself a little more, to not solely rely on the drugs to numb him to everything, to give up autonomy, power, to you—a weight feels like it’s been lifted off of yours, regardless of the fact that he’s asking you to control him, and you inhale deeply, able to breathe again.

“I love you,” you tell him instead, unsaid words sown into the fabric of the sentence.

It all makes him feel like he can do this, like he might actually survive this, so long as you’re by his side. The thought produces an inexplicable lump in his throat and he blinks hard, glittering eyes sweeping across your face before he seizes it, large hands cupping your jaw almost painfully as he pulls your face towards his, lips capturing yours in a crushing kiss.

Niichan! You try to squeal, muffled by his lips, Touya using the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, down your throat.

Traitorous as ever, your body melts into his only a second later, fingers latching behind his neck, trying to pull yourself closer.

“I need more,” he mumbles against your lips before pecking them again, eyes still closed. “I need more, baby, I need more right now,”

“Then take it,” you whine breathlessly into his mouth, echoing your words from the night before. “Take it, it’s yours,”

❅ ❅ ❅

It smells like damp rubber and stale snow, with a hint of year-old hard candy crushed beneath snow boots, releasing faint scents of artificial strawberry and orange.

The restroom is filthy, but neither of you care, too wrapped up in each other to pay much mind to the grime on the walls, or the flaky rust on the faucet—which is quietly dripping intermittently, covered in little droplets of condensation that gleam under the harsh florescent light humming above, tubes exposed.

The cement wall is cold against your bare skin as Touya rucks your dress up around your waist, hands under your ass supporting your weight as your legs wrap around him obediently, praising you for listening to him and never wearing pants, even in weather like this, because god, it makes everything so much easier, baby.

In the past, you would’ve been in a rush, positive you didn’t have much time before someone noticed your absence.

But your family is used to this now, completely unphased by the two of you disappearing for twenty, sometimes thirty minutes and returning with swollen lips and freshly fucked hair.

It’s not like they can say anything, anyway—it’s not like anything is going to stop the two of you now; it’s not like anything would’ve stopped the two of you before, either.

Despite this, Touya still doesn’t exactly take his time with you, large hands pawing at your breasts, your waist, your hips, fingers dipping into the elastic waistband of your panties just to let it snap back against your skin, reveling in the little yelp it conjures from you.

“Already soaked,” he sneers in your ear as two fingers skim over your lace-clad cunt. “Of course you are. I don’t know why I expected any less,” he huffs out a chuckle; a mean, harsh sound that ghosts over the shell of your ear before he captures it with his teeth, biting down hard and forcing a high-pitched squeal from your throat. “Because my baby’s such a Goddamn slut, isn’t she,” his lips are against your ear as he murmurs in that low, sultry voice, hot breath contrasting the cool air of the restroom, and you shiver violently.

“Only for you,” you whine out, already breathless.

And you’ll never get over how easily he knocks the air out of your lungs with just a few dirty words and prodding fingers, stroking your slit through drenched lace in a way that’s almost gentle, careful, purposeful, sure to keep his touches as teasing and not nearly enough.

Still, those three words have more of an effect on him than you would’ve thought, a possessive growl ripping from his chest as he grinds his hard cock against your inner thigh, the denim rough against your soft skin.

That growl in particular is your favourite, and you tell him so.

“Yeah?” he laughs a little, pulling back as sapphire searches your face rapidly, wide and bright and alert with the cocaine rushing through his body.

“Makes me—” sharp teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, just above your shoulder, a loud gasp cutting you off and bouncing against the walls of the small room. “Makes me wet, niichan,”

He groans into your skin, tongue wet and warm and caressing the skin in little licks back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as he sucks, branding you with brilliant violet.

“What’s this? My princess talking so dirty without being prompted?” he pulls back to look at you, and you can see the amusement dancing in his deep, deep eyes, endless pits of cerulean smothering everything their gaze touches, almost voracious as they soak it all up, feeling like they’re sucking the very life from you in the most delicious way.

A pitiful squeak escapes your lips in the form of an answer, heat seeping into your cheeks. He’s mocking you—you can tell. Those three words uttered from your lips aren’t even that dirty, are nothing compared to some of the things that have come out of your mouth while you’re delirious on his cock, begging for his cum.

Still, you’re unable to find your voice, staring at him in an almost helpless manner, a little kitten in the clutches of a jaguar, claws beginning to close in on you, trapping you between heavy, sharp paws.

“Ah,” he smirks, eyes darkening dangerously. “Not so bold when niichan’s actually looking at you, are you?”

Front teeth dig into your bottom lip, chewing on it a little as you hold his gaze, feeling heat gush between your thighs, the symphony of your combined slightly ragged breathing ringing in your ears.

“Say it again,”

And you try—really, you do, lips separating as you try to force the words out, a nasty combination of frustration and shame eroding your chest, burning and acidic, then shaking your head a moment later.

“Just,” you whimper as you try to pathetically rock against him. “Please?”

“Nah, nah, nah,” he’s shaking his head, that stupid grin etched across his face, pulling back even more but keeping you up against the wall, hands still cupping your ass, hips pinning yours. “Niichan isn’t gonna fuck you now unless you ask for it,”

Your forehead creases with a deep frown. You usually ask him to fuck you, don’t you? “I alwa—”

“No, no, you don’t,” he says simply with a tilt of his head. “Niichan wants you to really ask for it this time,”

You blink rapidly in confusion. “I-I don’t understand,”

Little breaths are beginning to leave your mouth, speeding up with the racing of your heart, terrified to upset him. Yet he looks amused, looks like he’s having so much fun as he torments you.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos with a false pout, mimicking your own. “You’re not that stupid, are you?”

A little whimper leaves your lips, chin twitching, threatening to begin trembling as you shake your head at him, unable to find words. Heat floods your face again, little pinpricks under the skin of your cheeks, a physical manifestation of your humiliation as he tuts his tongue.

“I don’t know how else to explain it to you,” he shrugs nonchalantly, though you can feel his cock throbbing through the thick denim of his jeans. “Just ask for my cock, babygirl,”

Although oozing with patronization, his voice is soft, blown pupils gazing at you with so much love it’s nearly overflowing from his eyes, slender fingers kneading the flesh of your ass almost tenderly as he waits.

And that’s all the encouragement you need, really.

“I-I want your cock, nii—” you begin, voice fading as your eyes meet his unimpressed gaze, raising an eyebrow at you as if to say Really? That’s the best you got?

A fierce need to prove yourself, to make him moan again, to make his stomach tense from just your words alone, blazes in your chest, burning through your veins and giving you another surge of confidence.

Gazing at him through your lashes, you pout a little more. “Niichan,” you whine out the honorific, back arching a little as you do. “Please, niichan, give it to me, I’m begging, my pussy is aching for your cock, T-Touya-nii—I need it filling me up, need it right now, f-feels so empty without you stretching me wide open,” the sentence fades off into a little whimper, but his lidded, glazed eyes, and the way his tongue runs along his bottom lip as he stares at you spurs you on, more dirty words spilling from your lips. “Feels—Feels wrong without your f-fat cock inside of me,” you nearly weep. “Please, niichan, make it right again,”

The gentle tremble in your voice only adds to it, somehow manages to make you seem so fucking innocent as you whine out such filthy words, and Touya can barely handle it, rubbing against your thigh, the repetitive motion of the denim dragging across your soft skin causing it to chafe.

“Fucking Christ,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes slip shut. “I wish I had recorded that,”

A cute, shy little giggle bubbles up your throat, face still burning. “I-I can say it again, if you want, niichan,”

He laughs—a genuine laugh deep in his throat, paired with a smile that meets his eyes—and presses a chaste kiss to your nose.

“One day, I’ll film us,” he vows, and the thought alone makes your stomach swoop. “But now, niichan’s gonna make you feel right again, okay, princess?”

“Oh, please, please,” you’re whimpering, body quivering against him.

“Shh, niichan’s got you,” he murmurs as he fiddles with his belt using a singular hand, your tiny fingers wandering down between your bodies to aid him.

Shoving your panties to the side, the head of his cock presses against you, and you wince in anticipation of the stretch—the stretch you so lovingly begged him for, he reminds you, sapphire eyes soaking up every single one of your expressions as he pushes in; reveling in the way your shut lids tighten, face screwing up in pain as the softest little yelp hitches in your throat.

It burns unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, abused cunt still sore and raw from the night before, from being fucked so ruthlessly less than twenty-four hours ago.

But you’re so wet, he breathes, rolling his hips slowly, stretching you little hole out just a bit more with each unhurried rock of his hips against yours. The wetness does nothing to stop the sting that accompanies his motions, though, reopening the tiny superficial fissures in your sensitive skin, quite literally tearing you apart, again, as your cunt yields to his girth.

“Niichan, hurts,”

“Yeah, baby?”

Little fingers curl in his thick sweater, and you whimper out an affirmative, head nodding lethargically against his shoulder.

“I thought you wanted niichan to fill you up?” he speaks as though he’s confused, a hint of condescension sown into the question, never halting his thrusts.

“I-I do!” you say quickly, head shooting up to gaze at him with glassy eyes, thick shield of unshed tears causing them to gleam in the harsh light. “I do,”

“Well then,” he smirks at you, hips pulling back, slow and controlled, before thrusting back in, sharp and fast, so hard it shoves your body up the wall, head whacking against the concrete with such force it sends agonizing pain shooting through your skull like lightning strikes. “Stop being a fucking brat, and take what niichan’s giving you,” he scolds over the piercing cry that falls from your lips, voice rough, deep, rumbling the way thunder does, buried in thick clouds on a humid summer’s day.

“Ungrateful little slut,” he snarls out, panting a little as his hips set a punishing pace, rapidly slamming into you, his jutting hipbones digging into the fresh bruises from the night before.

And you’re powerless to stop the noises you’re emitting, catching in your throat in time with his harsh thrusts, little mewls of niichan! and broken whines bouncing off the solid, cold walls, each one reverberating in his skull, forcing his hips to drive faster, harder, deeper.

But it’s fucking intoxicating, the way he’s pulling those needy little sounds from you as tears slip down your cheeks, pompously spitting demeaning words at you, sugarcoated in a thin, gleaming layer of praise. He’s a goddamn drug, words invading your mind and casting a thick haze over it, and during that moment all you can see is him, hear is him, taste is him—you swear you can feel him rushing through your veins, his heady scent of expensive cologne mixed with hickory campfire and a hint of Marlboros filling your lungs, the organs swelling painfully as you hold him inside your chest, trying to keep a piece of him close to your heart.

He stops to readjust your position, grunting as hooks an arm under your knee and yanks, ripping it from around his waist and forcing it toward your torso, your ankle nearly resting on his shoulder, his hand splayed flat against the dirty wall, using it as leverage. Your other leg clings to him, wrapped so tightly around his body that the muscles are beginning to quiver. Still, this brief pause affords you a much needed moment to catch your breath before his hips piston into you again, harsh, strong, fast, cockhead slamming against your cervix with each snap of his hips.

Each thrust forces another yelp to tear from your throat, your voice hoarse and raw, as he bruises your abused cervix, sharp spikes of pain shooting up your lower back and down your trembling thighs. He’s a watery blur at this point, eyes overflowing with tears, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders as you clutch him, arms beginning to ache from holding yourself up.

Tufts of white hair stick to his neck and forehead, clumped together with sweat. He’s almost whining out curses, slipping from between clenched teeth as his thrusts continue to pick up speed, although you can barely hear him over the sound of your own ragged breathing, peppered with pitiful little sobs that leave your chest heaving.

“Look at you,” he gasps out, wild sapphire eyes searching your face. “So fucking beautiful, taking my cock so well,”

And even in such a position, inebriated from the potent combination of pain and pleasure and him, his praise still makes your heart soar. A little pink tongue darts out to wet your chapped lips, bitten raw by him and salty with your own tears. Strand of hair stick to your puffy cheeks, though you’re unsure if they’re coated in sweat or tears.

“C’mon, baby,” he nearly keens. “Want you to be a good girl and cum for me,”

And those two tiny, four letter words are the magic words, like they always are, your head nodding vigorously, incoherent babbling bubbling past your lips; yes niichan, of course, wanna be a good girl for you, touya-nii, the best girl, your best girl.

He gives you permission to touch your clit, swollen and aching from neglect, your fingers sneaking between your bodies to rub at it, pussy clenching almost immediately.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “Yeah baby, just like that, milk niichan for all the cum he’s got,”

The praise, mixed with a direct command, has your fingers speeding up, moving in rapid circular motions, that cord of heat in your stomach coiling tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until it finally snaps, your little cunt throbbing as you gush around his cock.

He follows immediately after with a dark growl of your name, hips stilling as he finally cums, pinning you against the wall, cockhead pressed tightly against your sore cervix.

It’s thick, scalding, and copious, wrecked little noises getting caught in your throat as his cock pulses, filling you with endless spurts of cum; so much, too much, and you’re sure your womb isn’t nearly big enough to take it all, positive that it’s leaking out of you, running down your ass and down his balls.

You still haven’t caught your breath by the time Touya’s releasing you, hands firm on your hips as he places you gently on your feet, keeping you steady as your legs shake. You can still feel his cum leaking out of you, and you wish you had something better than your thin panties to keep it inside of you. With a pout, you tell him so, voice absolutely ruined as you wheeze out, “I-I wish I had a-a plug, niichan, to hold all of your cum inside me,”

“Christ,” he breathes, eyes twinkling as he gazes down at you, brushing his slender fingers through your sweaty hair. “You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

❅ ❅ ❅

You don’t remember much of the drive home, struggling to keep your heavy eyelids from falling shut. Touya’s half dried cum is sticky—now practically gelatinous—in your panties and the mere thought of it makes you whimper, wiggling your hips a little, trying to shuffle closer to him.

It makes you feel needy. It makes him feel wanted.

“Niichan’s here, baby,” he’s murmuring into your hair as he readjusts his arm around your waist, pulling both your legs over his lap, your side still pressed firmly against his. “Niichan’s here,”

A pitiful whine slips from your lips, little fingers curling in his hoodie as warm hands travel up your dress, kneading the supple flesh of your thighs. Fingers press into the bruises he knows are there without even having to look, smirking at the way you hiss, contrasted by the way your thighs spread just a bit more, giving him more room to work, to play. The pads of his fingers graze the tiny raised cuts that the rough denim of his jeans left behind, tracing the raised little scabs.

“Sleep,” he tells you softly. “You did so good today, such a good little girl for me, my best girl,”

And his voice is the most soothing lullaby, smooth like melted platinum and quiet enough that only you can hear it, undoubtedly drowned out to the others by the staticky car radio.

❅ ❅ ❅

The dark bedroom is bleary, as if you were gazing at it though a thick slab of glass, eyes scanning the room slowly, mumbling out something that’s unintelligible even to yourself.

You’re not exactly sure how you got here, sitting on one of the twin beds in yours and Touya’s shared bedroom, propped up against the tiny headboard like a doll.

Touya’s murmuring to you softly as tender hands find the hem of your dress, tugging it up slowly, slowly, slowly, a low whine getting caught in your throat as your soft skin is exposed to the cool air, until he’s removed it from you completely. The clasp at the back of your bra snaps, and you want to tell him to be more gentle, this is your favourite bra, but you can’t seem to make your tongue move, the muscle sitting slimy and heavy in your mouth. Your vision disappears entirely for a second as something soft is slipped over your head, your body engulfed in the scent of hickory wood and Marlboro smoke.

Then large hands are all over you, maneuvering you onto your side then rolling you onto your back, gently prying your thighs open a moment later as he kneels between them, the springy mattress dipping with his weight.

“Touya-nii,” his name escapes your lips in a jumbled whine of protest.

“Shh, baby,” he hushes you, pulling your soiled panties down your legs.

Every muscle in your body aches, weighted down with fatigue from the long day, a few weak kicks—more of a fluttering of your legs, really—being all you’re able to manage in resistance.

“Hurts, niichan,” you whimper, through your eyelids are already falling shut again, exhaustion tugging at your consciousness gently.

“I know, princess,” he responds, and you’re just awake enough for the words to register, brow furrowing. His body heat disappears for a moment from between your thighs as he leans over to grab something, then returns, waves of comforting warmth rolling off of him.

Your body flinches ever so slightly as you feel something cold and smooth being spread across your swollen folds and puffy little hole. Cream, your mind supplies feebly.

“Niichan—”

“Quiet now,” he says, voice firmer than before. An order, this time. “Go to sleep, baby, and let niichan take care of this,”

Hot, tingling sparks blossom deep in the pit of your stomach, making your entire body buzz, like you’re high off him again, the sensation causing your chest to swell. This is what love feels like—Touya rubbing cool, soothing cream into your raw skin as he murmurs soft praises to you—you’re absolutely positive about it.

“I love you,”

The words leave your lips as a dreamy sigh, body finally relaxing against the mattress again.

He presses a tender kiss to your inner thigh, the soft skin a mosaic of crimson and violet from his previous ministrations. “I love you more,”

And that’s the last thing you feel, the last thing you hear as your mind slowly drifts into unconsciousness, filled with hazy images of a pretty boy with glowing sapphires for eyes and ivory for hair, of slim veiny hands decorated with the most magnificent black ink, the pads of their fingertips dancing along your skin, of a deep, sultry voice smoother than satin murmuring how much it loves you as lips crawl up your body—up your thighs, over your stomach and ribs, along the curve of you neck, until finally, they reach yours.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya smut #dabi #AAAAH this was supposed to be posted last night but i fell asleep editing it after getting distracted by SOMEONE #anyway enjoy!!#i hope u all like it!!#whew two down three to go #technically two to go because part four is nearly finished ehehe #tw pseudo-incest #OH THERES ALSO SOME FORESHADOWING IN HERE EUEUEUEUEUEEUEUE #MARI KNOWS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT

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siriuslyshewrote · 3 years

Text

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 - 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In which you are sick and James comforts you.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of sickness, tiny mention of sex.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k

Requests are currently open!

Over the past few weeks, autumn had invaded Hogwarts, with golden leaves slowly dropping from their places on the trees, leaving a delightful crunching noise whenever you wandered around the grounds of Hogwarts.

Hogwarts had started to take on the typical cool chill and drafts which ran through the castle and struck when you were walking around the corridors, and it was due to this, you thought, that you had ended up with possibly the worst bout of flu that you had ever had.

You, in truth, were rather resentful that your favourite season - a time for bundling up in knitted jumpers and curling up in front of the fire with a good book - had targeted you in this way. Feeling rather sorry for yourself, and your utter lack of being able to breathe properly through you nose, you had elected to spend the Saturday tucked into bed, under obscene amounts of blankets and quilts, with a rather large stack of tissues building up in the bin besides you.

Your bad mood over your cold was furthered by the fact that, if you squinted slightly out of your dorm window, you could see the Gryffindor versus Slytherin quidditch game that the whole castle had been abuzz with excitement for over the past several weeks. You couldn't stop thinking about James - the boy whom you had been with for months now - who would most definitely be looking for you in the stands, confused why you weren't there embarrassingly cheering for him as per usual. You really had meant to go - and had been halfway out of your lovely, warm, bed, before your legs started to shake underneath you, and Lily had rather forcefully buried you under so many blankets that you could hardly move to sneeze, let alone get out of bed.

You sneezed again, and let out a very self-pitying groan, before your eyes started to flutter, and you fell into a drowsy, sickly, sleep.

You awoke later to the door opening - having always been a light sleeper - what you realised with a start must have been many hours later, as the dorm room was now shrouded with the last, dusky, light of the day. The house elves must have been, too, as several lamps were lit, lighting the room with a comfortably golden glow.

You blinked sleepily, trying to rid yourself of the exhaustion, glancing towards the person stood in the doorway.

A soft smile appeared upon your lips as you saw James - his hair even more haphazard and windswept than usual, his cheeks red from the cold outside - a worried look on his face.

"'M sorry I didn't make it, Jamie." You mumbled from underneath the mountain of blankets, reaching out a hand into the cold air, reaching out for him.

"'T's fine." He murmured in a way that told you that he wasn't angry, crossing the room in only a few short paces with his ridiculously long legs. "Lils told me you were sick."

He was still wearing his slightly muddy Quidditch robes - he must have come straight here. The thought made your heart swell, and your already hot face warm.

His fingers brushed against your forehead, brushing away some of the hair that was plastered to your forehead.

"Did you win?" You gazed up at him, fingers wrapping his own and squeezing.

"Course." That half-arrogant, half-endearing smirk took its rightful place upon his face as he said that.

You tried to cheer, pride swelling in your chest, but it ended up being a rather pitiful half-cough.

"Merlin, Y/N, you're burning."

His fingers touched your forehead again, as if to confirm what he had just said. Instead of the joy that should have been on his face, was worry, his forehead creased.

"'M fine, James." Your voice was slightly muffled as your blew your nose into another tissue. "Just a cold."

His fingers lingered on your face.

"I should get you to Madame Pomfrey." He spoke, decidedly.

You gave a small grin at that.

"Honestly, James, I'm fine." You spoke quietly. "Why don't you go to the party that I'm sure Sirius is destroying the common room with right now? Celebrate your win."

He shook his head, instead pulling off his robes and leaving them in a pile on your floor, leaving himself in only a t-shirt and his boxers, which, admittedly, was not a bad sight.

"I know I said I'm fine, but that doesn't mean I want to have flu sex-"

You teased the bespectacled boy, and he let out a slight huff as he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Just want to hold you." He spoke in a gravely, tired voice, and it was only then that you realised that he was probably exhausted, too. He always was after quidditch.

You shifted along to the edge of the bed, making as much room as you could in the tiny Hogwarts twin bed, and felt the slight draft of freezing air as he climbed in next to you. The first few seconds were an awkward mess of trying to coordinate limbs, but, finally, he was curled around you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You sighed, nuzzling into his chest, your freezing body warming slightly with his radiator-like heat.

"You're gonna get sick too, you know." You mumbled into the thin fabric of his shirt, breathing in the smell that was utterly him - expensive cologne, pine, and the slight musk of sweat.

Somehow, even being near James made you feel a little better.

"Doesn't matter." He murmured back, resting his chin on the top of your head, tracing patterns with his fingers up and down your back.

You were almost dozing back into a more comfortable sleep, when your eyes flickered back open again.

"Wait-" You blinked owlishly up at him. "How'd you get past the stairs?"

The girls stairs at Hogwarts were notorious for turning into a slide every time someone of the opposite gender tried to climb up them - which all of the Marauders, and most distinctly, Sirius, had proved multiple times over the years.

He let out a gravely laugh at that, the mischief that had been missing creeping back into his voice.

"Prongs helped."

You bit your lip to prevent you laughing and hurting your cold-infested chest.

"You know," You muttered, with a small smile, "People are really going to start talking if they keep seeing a deer try and make it's way up the stairs."

He snorted.

"It wasn't graceful, I'll admit. Hooves don't work as well on stairs."

You let out a giggle, and once more drifted off to sleep, and this time, your dreams were permeated with the image of a fully grown deer trying to climb some very steep stairs.

Sure enough, the next morning, James woke you up with a very loud sneeze.

#James potter #James Potter fluff #James Potter x Reader #james potter imagine #James potter fanfiction #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders imagine #marauders x you #James Potter x you #prongs x reader #prongs

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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Backseat (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Inspo: 80’s Films by Jon Bellion

Summary: Your boyfriend, Frankie, is convinced he peaked in high school. You, however, are here to remind him that his life can’t get any better than it is right now.

W/C: 3k

Warnings: lil bit of sadness, language, brief mention of Frankie’s addiction, Frankie’s a father, graphic smut (18+!!), PROTECTED p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), dirty talk

A/N: I HC that Frankie is Southern and I’ll die on this hill. Hence, the light accent he has in this fic. Thanks to @miknickles and @ilikechocolatemilkh for putting up with my endless rambling, especially with making them listen to this song and agreeing that yes, josie, this is so Frankie!

The scene before you is absolutely stunning: fireflies dance across a field of tall grass, the sky filled with pink and orange and purple and blue. You had come out here with your boyfriend, Frankie Morales, and had a lovely picnic dinner in the back of his pickup truck. The two of you had finished eating a while ago, and now rest on the edge of the dropped tailgate, wrapped in a blanket and snuggling.

Your head rests on Frankie’s shoulder and you look up at the sunset, smiling contently. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and you let your eyes fall shut. You pull the blanket tighter around the two of you, nuzzling into his side. The night air is starting to cool and Frankie radiates warmth. “What are you thinking about? How does it feel to be you?” You murmur and look up at him, eyes tracing every little line and curve in his beautifully weathered face.

“It’s gonna sound darker than you’re expecting, but… my life,” he admits with a chuckle. “Just… everything I’ve done. I really think I peaked in high school,” Frankie says, staring off at the slowly falling sun. “I was the captain of the hockey team, I had my life ahead of me. It kind of all went to shit after that. I’ve done such bad things,” he tells you, voice growing small.

You’re aware of Frankie’s past. He’s told you all about his days in the Delta Squadron, about the special ops missions he and his friends ran. He’s killed people, you know that, and had to move on in an instant. While this fact would scare many others away, you snuggle up against him, readjusting your head on his shoulder to make sure he feels your presence. “There’s no way,” you shake your head.

“Yeah, there is, babe,” he sighs, his whole body moving with the deep breath he takes. “You know that, you know what I’ve done, the things I had to do…”

You pick your head up from his shoulder, looking into his eyes. “No, I meant you definitely didn’t peak in high school,” you shake your head, a hand cupping the side of his face. “You didn’t even know me then,” you say with a soft chuckle, enjoying the way his expression softens beneath your gaze. “There’s no way, Frankie. You have this life, me and your little girl. You have a job and you have more knowledge than I could even imagine filling my head.”

Frankie shakes his head this time. “You’re the smart one, we both know that. You went to college, you’re so smart-”

“Not the same thing,” you say gently, your fingers tracing his cheeks. “You know everything there is to know about helicopters. You’ve overcome addiction. You have a daughter, you’ve got experiences across the world. You have so much knowledge just from being you, from living the life you have.”

He nods softly at that, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. Frankie presses another sweet kiss to your forehead. “When you put it that way, I guess it makes sense,” he says in agreement. Both of your voices are hushed, as if the nightfall fills you both with reverence for the stillness of the atmosphere surrounding the two of you.

“I’m always right,” you tease softly, turning your face to meet his and kissing him, your hand still cupping his cheek. You break away but keep your face close to his. “I love you so much, Francisco Morales. You are my everything, you know that? If you peaked in high school, what the hell is this?” You tease gently, knowing your sarcasm can always turn Frankie’s mood around.

His face now holds a genuine smile, warm and caring as his eyes scan your face. “This is probably the best thing in my life, yeah,” he shrugs in agreement, just as teasing, before kissing you again. It’s a little deeper, but still so gentle and so full of love that it makes your whole body warm from the inside out due to his affection. Frankie breaks away from you again, a little bit of mischief returning to that beautifully baritone voice. “Can I show you how much I mean it?” he asks, the sparkle in his eye evident.

You quirk an eyebrow as you look at him, pretending as if you have no clue what he means. “And how would you go about doing that, Frankie?” you ask, making big doe eyes up at him and feigning innocence.

“Come here you little shit,” he laughs and kisses you again, holding your face in his hands. His lips express all of the love he has for you, and push deeper and deeper as the kiss progresses. Your hands rest on his wrists, kissing back just as happily. Between kisses, you press your forehead to his for a moment and a smile graces his lips. “Backseat?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you laugh, shedding the blanket from your shoulders and hopping off the tailgate, where the two of you had been resting. Frankie stands as well, his hands gravitating to your hips and holding you close to his own body as he kisses you again. You murmur his name into his lips as he kisses you a little harder, his hands sliding to the front of your flannel and undoing the bottom button.

His deft fingers work his way up the seam, unbuttoning them all until he slides your shirt off of your shoulders, his lips never leaving yours. You giggle as he tosses the shirt into the trunk, then breaks away to take off his own t-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside to be with yours.

As he does so, you trace your hands over his stomach and chest. His body is toned and beautiful, a soft layer of pudge coating the muscle but still letting his strength shine through. You press a kiss to his chest, between his pecs, admiring the skin. “You’re so beautiful, Frankie,” you murmur into his skin, kissing your way down until you’re just below his navel, mouthing at the soft pouch of his stomach. He gives a soft and beautiful moan, which you unintentionally mirror as you undo his belt, tossing it into the trunk. He backs up to lean against his truck as you unzip his jeans and pull both his pants and boxers down just enough to pull out his half-hard dick.

Giving it a gentle tug, you look up to see the man already flushed and panting. “You know, I lost my virginity in my truck,” he chuckles, his fingers lacing through your hair. “Just… funny,” he gasps as you take the tip into your mouth, slowly tracing it with your tongue. “We talk about peaking in high school, I get to fuck you the same way I did in high school,” he breathes out, already overwhelmed at the feeling of your mouth around him.

You pull your mouth away, continuing to stroke him as you look up at him. “Less talking, Catfish,” you tease him with his nickname softly, and he gives a brief nod that’s followed by an obscene moan as your mouth descends down on him again. His fingers remain tangled in your hair, his body shuddering beneath you.

“Can’t help it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his natural Southern accent coming out a little more than normal in the bliss he feels from the attention you lavish him with. “Just can’t close my mouth when yours is around me.”

You hum gently around him, his words going straight to the pooling heat between your legs. Still, you focus your attention on him first, bobbing up and down on his length, moaning when he’s fully sheathed in your mouth and starting to enter your throat. “Oh baby,” he whimpers, biting down on his lip. “Gonna make me cum like a high schooler too,” he chuckles, absolutely breathless. When you pull off of him, he holds you back before you can bob down on him again. “That’s enough of that. Slide those jeans down and hop up on the tailgate, sweetheart,” he tells you as he helps you to your feet.

You giggle a little and nod, kissing him again deeply as you undo the zipper of your jeans, pushing them down in a similar fashion to Frankie: resting around your thighs are both your jeans and your panties. You nip at his lip briefly, teasingly, before you break away, sitting on the edge of the tailgate and pushing them the rest of the way off, tossing them into the trunk behind you.

The sight of you is nearly enough to push Frankie to his tipping point. You sit on the edge of the tailgate, wearing just your bra. Your legs are spread to showcase your dripping pussy and Frankie wishes he could take a picture of this moment, the way you’re just visible in the light of the dying sun. “You’re gonna be the death of me, hermosa,” Frankie breathes as he gets on his knees, his face at just the perfect height.

You shudder and whine his name as he licks a stripe up your folds with his hot tongue. He latches his mouth around your clit, slowly beginning to suck on it with the familiarity of a man who knows everything about you. Your head falls back and you prop yourself with your arms behind you as he slips two thick fingers into you, scissoring you open lightly as he continues to lavish your clit with attention.

The stubble of his face rubs against your thighs deliciously, your legs unintentionally clamping around his face. He moans into you, switching into circling your clit with his tongue, and you cry out helplessly. “Frankie, baby,” you whimper, digging your fingers into his curls. He moans again as he feels your fingers tugging at his hair.

“Oh fuck, just like that,” you plead as he curls his fingers against the spot inside you that makes everything blurry. “Baby, harder,” you plead and he easily complies. His fingers curve harshly against your walls and you cry out, feeling the sensation building.

“I’m gonna cum, keep going just like that,” you whine to him, and Frankie continues just the same as before. A few strokes of his fingers and pulses of his tongue later, you find yourself coming apart. “Frankie,” you whine as your orgasm rocks through your body, your hot release coating Frankie’s face beneath you. He licks it all up as he works you through it, not letting up in the slightest. He finds his dick painfully hard at the way you flutter around him, finally slowing down as he can tell that you’re done.

He pulls away and removes his hand once you’re finished, smirking. His stubble and mustache are damp with your release, and he looks completely blissed out. You giggle a little and he stands, pulling you against his body. His hard dick presses against your core as he kisses you deeply, desperately.

“You want me on top of you or under you?” You ask between kisses, still panting and hot from your release just moments earlier.

“Under me. Go lie in the backseat,” he tells you as he pulls away from your lips, making a wet noise from the kiss. You nod and comply, opening the door to the back and lying down across the long bench seat. Frankie opens the door to the front seat, grabbing a condom from the center console. You remove your bra, tossing it playfully at him and laughing. You rest with your arms above your head, accentuating your tits, and when Frankie looks at you, his face tinges red and he smiles. “Such a tease.”

“Says the one who’s still wearing his jeans. You gonna fuck me in those?” You laugh, putting one leg up on the headrest of the chair in front of you, hiking your other leg up on the seat.

Frankie laughs and shakes his head, closing the front door and standing outside of the door you entered the back from. He opens the condom and slides it down on himself, shucking his jeans and boxers the rest of the way, tossing them in the trunk. He climbs in and over you, closing the door behind him. “Just like ninth grade again,” he teases you, earning a genuine laugh. You wrap a leg around him, your heel tracing up and down the back of his thigh.

The man smirks down at you, leaning his face down to yours to kiss you, his lips penetrating your mouth the way he desperately wants his dick to penetrate you. “Baby, please,” you moan into his lips, your arms still resting above your head.

“Anything for you, hermosa,” he breathes out, taking one of his hands up to pin down your wrists. The other notches himself at your entrance before slowly pushing in, biting down at his lip. “Oh fuck, angel, you feel so good,” he shudders.

“And that’s only the tip,” you laugh breathlessly, head falling back into the seat. “Come on, baby,” you egg him on, gripping his hip with your leg and whining as he pushes all the way into you. “Fuck, you’re so thick,” you groan as he bottoms out, feeling incredibly and perfectly full at the sensation of the man you love fully sheathed inside of you. “Just fuckin’ pound me,” you murmur next to his ear, kissing at his lip.

“Babe, I don’t know if this is the best place for me to do that, but I sure can try,” he says with a breathless laugh, pulling nearly all the way out of you before pushing all the way back in. That earns a dirty cry from the back of your throat, making him smile. “Oh, like that. I can do that,” he teases, burying his face in the curve of your neck and nipping at the skin there.

“Frankie, baby, please,” you shudder, grinding your hips in little circles as he’s fully inside of you. He starts to thrust and you whimper. “Just like that, keep going,” you whine, already over-sensitive from the orgasm just a few minutes ago.

“Yeah, just like that. Feel so good around me,” he murmurs into your skin, his free hand moving to your clit to circle it with the pad of his thumb. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Oh, fuck yes I do,” you nod, straining your wrists against his hand. “Let them go,” you murmur and he obliges, allowing one hand to bury itself in his curls and the other to grip his strong shoulder blade.

Frankie thrusts harder and harder, his thumb against your clit working in time to his hips. You dig your nails into his back as he hits your g-spot, earning a desperate cry from him. You moan his name as you drag your nails down his back, definitely enough to leave scratches in the morning. He groans primally at the sensation, loving every second of this.

“Fuck, make me feel so good,” you whine and bite down on your lip, stopping as he brings his lips to yours. “Frankie, honey,” you whimper into the kiss, sloppy and harsh and wet. It’s bruising, the way his hips pound into yours, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. “Gonna cum really quick, feel so good,” you murmur a few moments later.

“Yeah? Tell me how you feel as you cum, let me know everything you’re feeling,” he murmurs as he thrusts even harder.

“Fuck, so fucking good, your hands are so big and strong and your hips are so quick and you’re so big, stretching me out, hitting just the spot,” you whimper until the building feeling finally bursts, leaving you a writhing mess beneath him as you gush around his dick. “Frankie, baby, don’t stop, ah,” you cry as you slowly come down from your orgasm.

The fluttering around his dick is almost too much for him to take, but he keeps going. “I couldn’t stop if I wanted to,” he laughs, using the last bit of oxygen in his lungs. He’s gulping air from the ferocity of his thrusts. His hand moves from your clit to your thigh, gripping it tight enough to bruise. “I’m gonna, baby girl, my angel,” he breathes, the thrusts becoming sporadic.

To help him along, you clench around him, making the sensation even tighter for him. “Come on baby, come on,” you nod and murmur, the delicious overstimulation making everything in your body quiver.

It’s too much, and Frankie finally arrives, his orgasm washing over him. He spurts into the condom, his hips continuing but slowing down until he finally comes to a stop, resting fully inside you and practically collapsing on you. “Honey,” he murmurs in your ear, your sweaty chests sticking together. Your eyes finally open again to find the cab of his truck illuminated only by the moonlight, shining in and accentuating the fog that’s accumulated on the windows.

You push his head up, wanting to see his face. The light makes everything silvery blue, his eyes shining and his skin bathed in the beautiful moonlight. He’s absolutely spent, his cheeks flushed and warm to the touch. “You are the most beautiful thing, Frankie Morales,” you repeat yourself, smiling softly, bringing his face to yours for a gentle kiss.

“I think that title goes to you, babe,” he chuckles breathlessly as he finally breaks away from your kiss. “And yeah, you’re right. I definitely didn’t peak in high school, I think I just needed a night like this to remind me of that.”

“Good,” you say firmly with a nod, before your stoic expression dissolves in a fit of giggles. Frankie’s head nestles in the curve of your neck again and you press a kiss to the side of his head. “I love you so so much, baby,” you murmur, earning a tired grunt from your boyfriend. You laugh softly and wrap your arms around him, kissing the side of his head again.

#pedro pascal #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier

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disastrouslyyours · 2 years

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It's like 2am where I live but I just got to say this: I recently found your account not too long ago and I'm obsessed! <3 I never thought that I would find tickling to be the cutest thing ever. And as someone who has a difficult time feeling emotions when it comes to having crushes (specially on... fictional puppets, but really, in general) you have made me feel so many warm emotions in the best way possible :)

On another note, I loved the massage chapter you wrote on ao3, so I ask, is it possible to ask for something similar as a drabble request? Feel free to add anything if you want <3

Anon I’m so, so, so incredibly in my feels rn. This really truly means a lot to me, I’m so overjoyed to hear that you not only enjoy what I write but that it fills you with the warm and fuzzies. For you, friend, you get a very soft lil drabble. (Because, and this is a secret between you and me, I too have a crush on this fictional puppet.)

I’m not sure what aspect of the chapter you liked best, so I picked the massage/physical closeness element itself.

It always starts so soft and subtle, that it could almost be chalked up to a coincidence. It’s hard to call something that is basically routine a coincidence, but you don’t have time to consider all the fine details. The invitation is always the same; a request to decompress by watching a movie of your choice. You alternate nights, each of you taking a turn picking a piece of media to share with the other. You have your respective spots on your well-loved couch, your preferred movie refreshments, and a favorite fuzzy blanket that you share. Every night, without fail, one of you will slowly inch closer to the other. Typically it’s Spamton who scoots closer to you. While he isn’t the stealthy type, you pretend not to notice when a familiar warmth presses against your arm. You shuffle, obviously needing to stretch, definitely not intentionally inviting him to lean back against your chest. With him pressed against you, there simply isn’t anywhere else to place your arm besides wrapping it around him. Once your arm is wrapped around him you really have no choice but to rub your hand along his side, most certainly not pressing a finger into his ribs occasionally just to hear him giggle.

Eventually he would lean his cheek against your chest, obviously just to get the best view of the TV, allowing you to bring a hand up to card your fingers through his hair. Encouraged by his soft hums, playing with his hair would turn into a purposeful head massage. Further emboldened by his ever-present blush, a purposeful head massage would turn into a thoughtful back rub. With your palms pressing gently against his spine, Spamton would melt entirely against you. If your thumbs found themselves dipping into the small of his back, it was most certainly just to try and release some of his muscle tension and most certainly not to feel him squirm under your touch.

And when he wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling impossibly closer against you, it’s just so he can fully stretch out along the length of the couch. Or, so you tell yourself.

It’s times like these when he’s quiet, nestled against you with a placid expression, that you find your thoughts the loudest. The only way to drown them out, you’ve discovered, is to nestle your face into his hair and allow yourself to soak in the warmth radiating from his body.

It always starts so soft and subtle, hardly a coincidence, and always ends the same way- with a soft, warm, inviting, familiar, and comfortable embrace.

#If y’all see this in later chapters of gentle touches #u gotta promise me you’ll act surprised #posting this for you anon but do not be surprised if i recycle this for later use bc im actually rly proud of this one #i mean im proud of them all but this one broke the mold for my drabbles a little #and bc it’s been weeks since i’ve actually worked on that fic #i really should do that #drabble requests #anon asks #spamton drabbles #spamton fanfiction #spamton x reader

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harrysweasleys · 4 years

Text

are you ticklish? // c.d

summary: can i request cedric diggory baking with the reader? i just need a lil fluff in my life 🥺 i LOVE U AND UR WRITING SO MUCH I HOPE U KNOW THAT! THANKS!

warnings: there’s no plot. its just fluff, my friends.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: sorry this is so late! i have been having writer’s block for like two weeks now so production has been slow here lol. thank you all for being patient! (also i’m sorry this doesn’t involve baking per say, but i hope you enjoy anyways!)

——————

The smell of warm, gooey cookies filled your shared home with Cedric as you sat yourself in front of the oven, impatiently staring into the little window and counting down the fifteen minutes until they would be ready. It was hard to stay away from them, you thought. The smell was just teasing you — taunting you, as if saying ‘the cookies are in progress, but you can’t touch them just yet.’

Cedric, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his tea, fought the urge to chuckle as he watched you, seated comfortably on the floor with a blanket wrapped around you and a silly grin on your face.

Oh, how he adored you. Every little thing about you. From you desire to crack jokes only to see people laugh, to the way small things — like baking — would render you utterly happy. He had fallen for you all those years ago at Hogwarts, and never regretted a moment of it. You captured his attention as much now as you did all those years ago.

He watched, content as ever, while you eyed the timer above the stove.

“Come sit with me,” you reached out to him, giving him a soft smile that he knew he couldn’t say no to even if he wanted to.

He placed his mug down on the counter and leaned down, sitting on the cold floor and scooting as close to you as he could. His heart did a little flip as you lifted your arm and wrapped your blanket around him — he could smell you and feel the heat radiating off of your body. He really did love it.

“It smells nice in here,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He nodded softly before leaning his head against yours, lifting his hand and placing it atop your knee, “It does. Bet they’ll taste better than they smell.”

“Well, of course they will,” you scoffed, poking him in the side and causing him to jump slightly at the ticklish sensation, “Cookies always taste better than they smell. Besides, smelling them doesn’t put them in my belly.”

Cedric couldn’t fight the laughter that bubbled within him, the vibrations from his body causing you to let out your own laughter. He found your laughter infectious — unique in its own adorable way — so your laughter only egged him on to laugh harder.

The two of you were just sitting on the floor, wrapped in a blanket and staring at an oven, giggling away while the clock on the wall flashed 2:34am.

“Reckon we’ll have any left tomorrow?” Cedric found himself asking after a few moments of silence, the comfortable air in the room not previously needing to be broken by conversation.

“Nope,” you replied rather quickly, lifting your head off of his shoulder and giving him a toothy grin, “I’ll eat them all while we go watch telly in bed.”

Cedric had recently introduced you to a Muggle service called Netflix — which you had to admit, you really liked. It was hard to go to sleep without watching a few episodes. The two of you had recently started a new series and were up late binging it — only, you had had no snacks.

That’s how the two of you ended up in the kitchen at this hour of the morning, the smell of chocolate cookies wafting through the quiet apartment and the low rumble of your stomach signalling your impatience.

Beep!

Cedric stumbled over as you jumped up, picking your wand up off of the counter and opening the oven. He was eye-level with the blast of heat that emerged, causing him to grimace and stand up hastily, waving his hands in front of his face.

“Oh, the smell of joy,” you grinned, eyeing the cookies as you lifted your wand, lifting the tray out of the oven and placing it atop the stove. The smell was now ten times stronger that they were out of the oven, and even Cedric couldn’t fight the hungry grumble in his belly.

He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder, “They don’t smell as good as you, though.”

He grinned to himself as a blush rose on your cheeks, the corners of your lips curving up. You always became rather flustered at his compliments — one of the many reasons he loved showering you with them any chance he could get. The way that your cheeks and ears turned pink as the shy smile grew on your face — it was one of Cedric’s favourite things.

“Oh, such a smooth talker, Ced,” you giggled, turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck, his still wrapped comfortably around your waist. You could feel the heat coming off of him, surrounding your flushed body comfortably and making the dingy tile floor feel less freezing against your bare feet.

“You know it,” he smirked, leaning forwards and pressing a light kiss against your nose, “Theres no one else I’d want to make cookies with at 2am.”

You nodded your head, “Same here.” And it was true — there was no one else you’d want to do this with. Cedric was it for you, no one else would ever come close.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. They were familiar and warm, but they didn’t fail to make sparks fly in your belly no matter how many times you kissed. The feeling of kissing him was intoxicating — intoxicating enough you nearly forgot about the baked goods sitting on a tray behind you.

Cedric, however, couldn’t care less about the cookies at this point. He was utterly lost in your touch, in your kiss, in your smell. He didn’t want to stop and there was nothing in the world that could change his mind.

“They’re gonna get cold,” you pulled away from him slightly, mumbling against his lips.

“I’m afraid I don’t care,” he replied, wanting to pull you closer and continue kissing you until the sun came up and brightened the dim kitchen.

You giggled, lowering your hands down from his neck to his waist, poking him in the sides and causing him to jump back. He screeched slightly at the ticklish sensation, pulling his lips away from yours and glaring you down.

“Well,” he brushed his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes, “That’s not fair.”

You raised and eyebrow, winking at him, before turning around to face the cookies, “They’re gonna get cold!”

Without waiting for him to retaliate, you picked up a cookie off of the tray, the softness and heat of it causing it to crumble slightly in your hand before you shoved the whole thing in your mouth.

You had been utterly wrong about them getting cold, however, because the second the cookie hit your tongue, it felt like it was on fire. The chocolate was scalding and your tongue felt fuzzy immediately. You let out a small cough and opened your mouth.

“I’m going to guess by your expression that they’re not cold?” Cedric smirked, placing his hands on his hips.

You gave him a glare, eating the cookie with your mouth open to cool it down, “I have made a terrible mistake.”

He nodded slowly, pursing his lips, “Karma for the tickling.”

You continued awkwardly chewing your cookie, glaring him down with narrowed eyes. His smirk never faltered, however, and the second that you swallowed your burning cookie, he lunged forwards with his arms out and his hands went straight to your sides.

You let out a loud yelp at the feeling, the ground beneath your feet disappearing as he lifted you up, wrapped you in his arms, and tickled you like there was no tomorrow. His laughter was bouncing off of the small kitchen walls as you began kicking and pushing him, hoping to get some sort of relief from the ticklish torture.

“Ced! Stop!” you gasped for breath through your laughter and shouting, hoping your neighbours down below wouldn’t hate you too much for causing such a ruckus at this early hour. Your laughter echoed through the small apartment as you struggled to breathe properly.

“Stop!”

“Fine, fine,” Cedric sighed dramatically, placing you down on the ground and standing above you. You finally touched the floor with your feet and let out a sigh of relief, the ghosting feeling of his hands on your waist making a shiver run down your spine. Cedric had always loved tickling you every chance he could get — but you, on the other hand, enjoyed it a little less.

You looked up at him, his eyes bright and his smile practically radiant. You couldn’t even bring yourself to pretend to be mad at him with that look on his face. He looked like a giddy child — a giddy child that had just received the exact gift he wanted on Christmas morning. And for some cruel reason, tickling you had been the gift he had longed for.

“Tickling should be a form of torture, you know,” you pulled down the hem of your shirt from where it had ridden up moments before, “I’d spill all of my deepest darkest secrets.”

His eyebrow cocked up and a glint of playfulness was evident in his eyes, “Oh, deepest darkest secrets, you say?”

Immediately regretting how close you were standing to him, you dodged his hands and took off towards the living room, Cedric’s loud footsteps letting you know he was chasing after you.

He was a rather quick runner, this you knew, but luckily he was in a playful mood and therefore was letting you outrun him as you darted down the hallway to your shared bedroom, continuously avoiding his grabby hands and the mischief in his eyes.

Unfortunately for you, the cookies had now long been forgotten.

——

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entishramblings · 4 years

Text

What Haunts Your Heart [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: helllllo! So first off, WOW thank you for 900 followers!! I can’t believe it enough of you think I’m this interesting to follow hehe. AnYwAyS....here is yet another Legolas one-shot because, as we all know, I’m obsessed with him

Request: @guardianofrivendell - Hi! Can I ask for a Legolas oneshot? I really love your writing and I want to see how you would write this. So you're having nightmares, and Legolas notices. One night he has enough and tries to cuddle you and surprisingly it works. So from then on he does this every night without you knowing he does it. Then one night you wake up before him and tadaaaa... Chaos. Can be romantic (please?) with a bit of angst?

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N) is a member of the fellowship and begins to have nightmares. Legolas notices and is very worried.

Word Count: 2,839

Warnings: fluff, lil bit of angst

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

A gentle chilling breeze blew upon the sleeping fellowship, dancing among their unconscious forms. It was quiet and calm—for the most part that is. Legolas was the only one not in a deep slumber. He laid on his back next to (Y/N) for the third night in a row, deep in his thoughts.

Concern began to pool in his mind as the sound of tiny whimpers met his elvish ears, not noticeable to any other. That was the only downside to heightened hearing he supposed—being able to capture the small whispers and cries of those suffering when no one else could. It was saddening; more so, almost always he could not do anything to help....especially now. Though, tonight the sound did not come from a distance village or a nearing war, it came from the woman beside him.

(Y/N) was a strong minded and smart individual; she brought much to the fellowship—skills of healing, fighting, planning. She was strategic and her expertise was valued greatly, despite her intimidating nature. All of these characteristics seemed to make her appear so tough and unconquerable; anything thrown at her she would throw right back. (Y/N) was a woman of war; she could hold her own, that was for sure. So, seeing her haunted in her sleep was....strange for the elf. Legolas knew she had seen many horrors, as he had, but what was so gruesome and troubling that it crept its way into her darkest dreams?

Another small whimper escaped (Y/N)’s throat.

She was on her side facing Legolas, which gave him a clear view. He watched as her expression distorted into one of pain and worry. Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pulled tight. She began to squirm in her sleep, rotating so her back was towards the elf. Yet he still saw the woman’s small fist clench the fabric of the blanket draped around her.

A third cry flushed from her mouth.

Legolas couldn’t take it anymore. The sounds were so heartbreaking. They pulled harsh aches of agony from his chest, tormenting him with sadness. He couldn’t bear to see her like this any longer. Three nights he had witnessed this, and three night he had done nothing.

The blonde elf scooted closer to her until his chest was pressed against her back. He used his arm to prop himself up in order to see her face. Ever so gently, he brushed away the hairs that had come loose from her braid, revealing her tear stained cheeks.

“Oh, (Y/N).” He whispered sadly.

Legolas wiped the moisture away softly and spoke once more, “I wish I could take away what haunts your heart.”

He begun to smooth her hair and caress her cheek. The tender sensation seemed to calm her unconscious form for the tears stopped falling and her lips ceased quivering.

The elf could not help but stare fondly as he continued the light action. He began to trace the shadows that were created upon her skin. The moonlight accentuated them clearly, showing the sharp curve of her jaw and gentle bends of her features. When (Y/N) wasn’t dreaming of horrors, scowling at maps, or beheading orcs, her expression was calm and tranquil. She was quite beautiful, indeed.

Legolas forced his eyes to pull away and he quietly laid down, curling his body around her. As his warmth radiated into her being she begun to relax against him. A quiet sigh escaped her mouth and she stopped the shaking that previous racked her body; instead, she seemed to push into him further. Legolas smiled at her unconscious action. It was sweet and adorable, really. He draped one of his muscular arms over her waist and pulled her closer—if that was even possible. He buried his head into the softness of her hair and inhaled the lavender and forestry scent that lingered among it. He allowed the sound of her heartbeat and gentle breaths to take the place of the anxieties lingering in his thoughts. Being so close to (Y/N) not only calmed her, but it initiated a peace within Legolas as well. He desperately tried to hide it, but he had craved this closeness with her; he had craved this comfort. Legolas had never met a women so unusual—in a good way that is. (Y/N) cared not for dresses and trinkets. She preferred the outdoors to the safeness of stone walls. She was interested in skills beyond those of a stereotypical maiden. And Legolas adored this.

Slowly, his mind drifted to sleep as he blocked the nightmares from her mind, like a shield would to arrows.

......

Legolas woke the next morning to the light smell of charcoal and burning wood. It was comforting for it reminded him of the warm fires the elves would have in Mirkwood—especially during the winter season. But that comfort instantly turned into panic. His blue orbs flung open and his heart raced.

Oh how he hoped no one had seen the....compromising....position him and (Y/N) were in.

Of course, cuddling wasn’t considered compromising in the most basic definition, but it was reserved to those who were courting or wed—and Legolas and (Y/N) were neither of those. Yet, their bodies were molded together and their position held still all night.

The blonde elf sat up quickly to meet the grey eyes of the Ranger.

Aragorn looked at him with raised eyebrows, “Are you alright, Mellon Nin (my friend)?”

Legolas’s brows furrowed and he tilted his head slightly before releasing a deep exhale. Maybe the Ranger would not comment on the previous closeness of the two? He focused back on his friend but the look on Aragorn’s face did not falter.

The Elven Prince cleared his throat, “Yes, yes I am alright. I was just—just—“

Aragorn interrupted him, “Cuddling with (Y/N)?”

“Yes—I mean no.....I mean......Aragorn.....” he trailed off.

A smile ghosted across the Ranger’s face as he turned back to tending to the small flames.

Legolas sighed and stood up. He trudged towards his friend and plopped down on a dark textured log next to him.

“She has been having nightmares,” Legolas stated simply.

Aragorn glanced at the elf out of the coroner of his eye. “(Y/N)?” He questioned in surprise.

Legolas nodded, “She never wakes but she suffers greatly. I can see it.”

The Ranger stared into the coals that he was poking. This new information worried him for he had known (Y/N) for a long time—even trained her—and this was something new and out of character. “Do you know of what she dreams?”

Legolas shook his head and glanced down at his hands, “I always thought her so strong. I know not what haunts her.”

A long stretch of silence passed between them before the Ranger spoke once more, a teasing tone upon his voice, “So naturally, you had to cuddle her.”

Legolas sent him a glare, “Well no—I just—I—it...it was the only way to stop her cries.”

Aragorn sighed, the smirk that had previously plastered across his face faded into a serious expression. He dropped the stick and turned his full attention towards Legolas. “Don’t think that it has escaped me, Mellon Nin (my friend).”

The elf frowned, “What do you mean?”

The dark haired man shrugged, “The way you look at her.”

Legolas was clearly takin aback by this comment for he stiffened and drew his eyes away.

A light chuckle left the Ranger’s lips. “You forget I was raised by your kin. I recognize those elvish looks of longing.”

Legolas felt a deep blush creep up his neck and into the tips of his pointed ear. He didn’t know what to say—what could he even try to say? Aragorn had figured him out. But luck seemed to be on his side for the waking groans of Gimli halted their conversation.

.......

The past week had been difficult. The fellowship had trudged through rugged terrain and rough rocky tundra. It was taxing on them all, even the elf. In order for his companions to get the rest they needed, Legolas had offered to take nights watch more often when they were exposed with no cover. He still kept a careful eye on (Y/N) though. When he was not cuddling her he could see the dark dreams take hold. Her brows would scrunch together and the soft cries would return. Therefore, as soon as his watch was over he would wake the next and then nestle his body against the young woman’s. And soon enough, the soft whimpers and heartbreaking cries would end and the shaking and rustling would cease. No longer were her dreams filled with agony and fear.

For some reason, the thought of (Y/N) discovering Legolas’s nightly cuddles never crossed his mind.....not until it actually happened, that is.

It was sometime past midnight when (Y/N) unexpectedly woke up. The reason—she knew not. But she was surprised to feel so.....so warm. The nights had been getting colder as they moved north and the chill did not escape her every morning. So, the puzzlement of the additional heat flooded her foggy thoughts. (Y/N)’s tired brain began to process her surroundings further. She became aware of the extra weight wrapped around her waist—then the smell of pine and honey, then the gentle breaths near her neck. However, it wasn’t until the sound of a content sigh and the motion of being pulled closer into a firm mass, that she realized she was indeed curled against someone.

Alarm instantly fueled her body. (Y/N) immediately launched herself into a sitting position and turned to see just who had been cuddling her. Her wild eyes were met with the sight of a groggy elf who was entirely confused by the sudden movement. (Y/N) watched as Legolas propped himself up on his elbow and peeled his lids open. He slowly looked at the empty spot next to him, then feeling a gaze on his form, turned to look at (Y/N).

“(Y/N)?” He questioned in a disoriented daze, his voice deep and slightly raspy.

She didn’t answer she just stared at him, breathing heavily from the adrenaline.

Legolas casually rubbed his eyes with one hand before speaking again in a heavy whisper, “What is it?”

“Legolas?!” She hissed. Her voice was full of exasperated shock, annoyance, and anger. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

His brows pulled together as he looked at her in surprise, the curse in her sentence heightening his attention slightly.

(Y/N) clarified the question in irritation when he did not respond, “Why were you spooning me?!”

“I...was just...I mean I....”

The young women rolled her eyes before reaching outwards. A loud smack echoed amongst the emptiness of the night—drawing the attention of the uncrowned king on watch.

“LEGOLAS!” She whisper-yelled, “Wake up!”

The elf was cupping his cheek and his expression was filled with bewilderment—lips parted, eyes wide.

Cruel? Maybe, but it worked.

“Why were you cuddling me?” She repeated once more.

“You...you have been having nightmares. Crying in your sleep. This has been the only way to—“

She jabbed a finger at him, “Stop. Just stop.” She glared at him, “I have not been having nightmares.”

Legolas frowned, “Yes, you have.”

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes and stood up, “I don’t know what you are talking about.” She crossed her arms. “I. Don’t. Get. Nightmares.”

The elf sighed, “(Y/N)...”

But she turned on her heal and stomped off.

Legolas let out yet another exasperated sigh. Did she think that he thought less of her for her nightmares? Why is she refusing to admit to them?

“Go after her,” the voice of Aragorn stated plainly.

Legolas snapped his head upwards to look at his friend. He was unaware that Aragorn had been watching and now embarrassment filled his soul. Had Aragorn really witnessed all of that? Even the slap?

The elf pushed those thoughts from his mind for he had more important this to worry about —(Y/N). He grabbed his two long-knives and went after the young woman.

......

Legolas made his way through the large rocks and jagged territory until he found her perched on a particularly large bolder, overlooking the land. He sat down next to her and held out one of the silver weapons.

“It is unwise to go off in your own unarmed.”

(Y/N) pulled her knees to her chest, ignoring him.

The Elven Prince sighed. He gently placed the one knife next to her and let his hands play with the second one. His gaze wandered across the horizon as the two sat in frustrated silence. The sun was just beginning to rise, the assortment of brilliant colors not yet bleeding among the stars. If it wasn’t for the tension between them, the elf would have felt at peace—which was rare during these dark times.

It was a while before anyone spoke.

“(Y/N), please do not lie to me,” Legolas stated gently. “I know dreams have been tormenting you and I do not think any less of you because of it. Tell me what bothers you so.”

A long pause stretched between them before (Y/N) released a shaky breath. Her eyes did not move from the landscape before them. “I have seen life leave so many—brutal, bloody deaths. Strider and I have travelled far across Arda, yet it is all the same—death. And now? Now that the ring has been found, is there to be any hope? I cannot watch another I care for die. Not again.”

Legolas glanced down at the knife in his hand, “At night they come to you, don’t they? You see their faces? That is what haunts your heart?”

(Y/N) slowly drew her gaze towards the elf. “They come for you too?” She whispered quietly.

Legolas looked at her softly, “They used to, many ages ago.”

Trying not to show her desperation she spoke again, “How did you make it stop?”

Legolas cleared his throat and took a moment to collect his thoughts. “I focused on what I could—the happiness in the present. Anchor your heart on what is in front of you—your friends. Aragorn, Gandalf, Boromir, Gimli, the hobbits....me. We are all bonded by this fellowship. Take comfort in it.”

The elf scooted closer to her and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her her ear. His touch lingered on her cheek and jaw. “Do not push your friends from you.”

(Y/N) lowered her gaze as a light blush crept up to her cheeks at the elf’s gentle trace.

“(Y/N),” he whispered. Yet she would not meet his eye. Legolas cautious tucked two fingers under her chin and forced her to look at him. “It hurts my heart to see you in such pain. Why did you not come to me about this?”

She hesitated, “I did not want any of you see me as weak—especially as the only woman here.”

Legolas shook his head, “I do not. You are a warrior and this is something all warriors have to bare.”

(Y/N) nodded slightly and turned her head towards the sunrise. The two watched in silence as orange and pinks stretched across the sky, waking up the earth. It was a beautiful sight really. The soft noises of nature reached their ears, and as (Y/N) listened to the songs of the birds she allowed her mind to drift into thought. The elf’s words did indeed bring her some comfort and, quite frankly, she felt stupid for thinking the others would not understand. They were all warriors, were they not? Except the hobbits that is. They have seen the horrors of war and surely they would be reminded of it daily for it was not something one could easily forget. Though one question, slight unrelated, lingered in her mind.

She glanced at the elf beside her, “Legolas? What did you mean when you said it hurts your heart to see my pain?”

He glanced at his feet which were dangling over the edge of the rock before answering, “Do you not know?”

Her brows pulled together in confusion, clearly not understanding.

Legolas hesitantly leaned in. When (Y/N) did not back away, he gently pressed his lips against hers. Slowly, she responded, moving her mouth with his. The Elven Prince’s hand weaved its way into her locks of hair, feeling the silky strands as if they were ripples in a running river. (Y/N) then cupped his cheek with one hand, and used the other to trail up his muscular chest. The two pulled closer, desperate for the comforting touch of the other. The kiss was tender, soft, and wet. It was something they held onto tightly. It was the consolation from the horrors of the world, and they had found that safety in each other. Eventually, they pulled away, but reluctant to lose the other’s warmth they resting their foreheads together. The blonde elf softly caressed her cheek while they absorbed the comfort of the moment.

“Legolas?” (Y/N) whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry for slapping you.”

A light chuckle bellowed from the elf’s chest and his lips curved into a smile. “To be fair, I somewhat deserved it.”

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