your face and your cheekbones and your collarbone and your legs and your voice

memory found || stiles stilinski

word count: 4242

warnings: season 6 spoilers, mentions of sex, light swearing

prompt: part one of this imagine

author’s note: yeah, so i got just a little carried away with this tbh. i really liked the idea of this imagine and i am really happy with how it turned out. also, THAT SEASON 6A FINALE! AM I RIGHT?? anyways, enjoy this imagine and feel free to make requests!


By definition, Stiles and Y/N were friends with benefits.

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just for a bit [ Sirius Black x Slytherin!Reader ]

some butt touching for my fave @gnargls

warnings: smut, cursing. likely nsfw.

Summary: “I don’t need your pity, Black.” / “What do you need from me, then?”

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anonymous asked:

Imagine the team leaving for a mission. Allura and Lance are alone. It's awkward. Then, Lance, the love child of the beauty, asks Allura if he can try one of her dresses on. Allura wanted to try wearing Lance's outfit since day zero. They include make-up and karaoke battle.

*soft gasp* Anon, I do believe you’ve earned yourself a small fic :3
“We’ll be back soon. Try not to blow up the Castle while we’re gone.” Shiro chuckled as he clapped Lance on the shoulder, the other Paladins already heading for their ziplines. Lance rolled his eyes. “Blowing stuff up is Keith’s thing.” He blatantly ignored the Red Paladin’s indignant “No it isn’t!” and Pidge’s snickering in favor of grinning at his team leader. “I’ll be fine, besides, I’ve got Allura with me. I’m pretty sure that between us, the Castle will be just fine.”

Shiro nodded and headed off for his own zipline. Lance heard Blue’s pouty rumble in his mind as her sisters left without her. “I know, Beautiful. But that last battle damaged you pretty badly, so you need to stay in the Hangars to heal up.” He soothed his Lion mentally.

The mission was a supply run anyways, not a lot of action, and Coran was going with them in order to identify any possible poisons to avoid. So Lance offered to stay behind in favor of Shiro getting to go, as it was another space mall moon and he hadn’t been able to go last time.

Lance thought staying behind was worth it anyways, as he’d seen the excited sparkle in the Black Paladin’s eyes at the thought of exploring a swap moon. But now it was quiet, almost too quiet, and boredom filtered in quickly.

Allura cleared her throat awkwardly, and Lance turned to face her. “So, Lance… what shall we do while we wait for the others to return? The mice can show you some tricks if you’d like…” she trailed off a little, attempting to clear away the awkward silence left in the wake of the other Paladins departure.

Lance thought for a moment, before eyeing Allura’s dress thoughtfully, contemplating. “Lance?” Allura raised an eyebrow. Lance decided to hell with it and blurted out his current thought. “Could I try on one of your dresses?!?” Allura blinked, surprised. That was certainly not what she expected, but she rolled with it anyways. “Only if I may try on your Earth clothing. It looks like a very different fabric than any Altean clothing has. I’ve always wondered what it felt like!”

Lance grinned. “Deal.” A bright smile spread across Allura’s face. “To my wardrobe!” She declared, marching over to Lance and dragging him through the hallways to her separate closet room where all her outfits were stored. Lance laughed as he stumbled into the huge room full of cute dresses and long, flowing skirts.

He gasped in awe at all the pretty designs and patterns, trailing his fingers over the silky fabric of one gorgeous blue dress. Allura seemed to bounce on her heels almost excitedly as she rummaged around in a certain cabinet built at chest height in the wall, pulling out what looked like makeup containers. “If you are to dress like me, you should at least enhance your features as well, though I doubt I can fix your ears.” She stated, Lance merely smirking in return.

“I’ll be right back, I’ll just go grab my clothes from my room real quick!” He chirped as he bolted out of the closet and ran for his room.

Soon enough, within the hour Lance was sporting fake blue Altean markings and wearing a floor length silver, blue and white dress, a slit up the left side to display some leg and the sleeves barely attached and flowy, shoulders bared and with a plunging backline. A pretty dark silver sash tied it together at the waist, wrapping up in an “X” across this chest and along the backline cut. Allura had even accented his cheekbones and eyes with some dark blue eyeshadow and pale rose gold blush and highlights.

Lance twirled around in the mirror, awed at how pretty he looked, extending his left leg and smiling. The light colors really made his darker skin pop. Allura clapped her hands excitedly. “You look stunning, Lance!” He turned and shot her a pair of finger guns. “I’m always stunning, but in this outfit I’m positively radiant.” He said confidently, preening. Allura rolled her eyes playfully. After an entire year in space, the flirty nature of the Blue Paladin was now recognized as nothing but pure fun, a game to relieve tensions during the war.

“Your turn, Princess!” Lance said happily, handing her his casual clothes. “Don’t worry, I won’t look. Trust me, in my family, looking at a dressing girl is punished by La Chancla.” He seemed to shudder at the memory, causing Allura to giggle in amusement. Lance turned instead to go through the jewelry box, careful not to disturb the mice, looking for something to accent his neck and collarbone a little more while Allura dressed behind him.

“Alright! I believe I have it on correctly! Though this other shirt is confusing.” He turned and yep, she was holding up his jacket and eyeing it warily. Everything else was on correctly though. Laughing, Lance took his jacket from the bewildered Altean and motioned for her to turn around. He then proceeded to pull her arms through the sleeves, adjusting the jacket properly. “There! You look almost human! Except for the markings and ears…” he explained, gesturing Allura to look at the mirror.

Allura turned this way and that, smirking at her appearance. “The human part I can fix!” She declared, before concentrating and shifting her features into a plainer, Earthen face. She blinked open normal, blue gray eyes and stared at her reflection, Lance gaping in shock. “Oh my. That is… quite a difference… my ears are quite ugly, and I feel a tad bit strange without my markings. And are all human eyes this dull?” She muttered, poking at the smooth, tan skin where her markings used to be.

The mice squeaked in shock from their spot napping in the jewelry box, snapping Lance out of his stupor. “Oh my gosh you look like my older sister…” he whispered, pressing a palm to his mouth. Allura turned to face him. “Your older sister?” Lance nodded. “Yeah. Maria. She’s a flight attendant back on Earth. Though she seems kinda stern all the time, whenever she was home with the family, she always used to instigate karaoke competitions with the rest of us.” He said wistfully, eyes almost distant at the memory.

Allura hummed thoughtfully. “Ka-ree-oh-kee? What is that?” She asked, confused. Lance brightened almost instantaneously. “Oh! Karaoke is basically a game where you sing along to a song and try to hit all the right notes. It’s mostly done for fun, but in a competition the person who sings the best wins. We usually had a panel of judges made up out of the rest of the family who weren’t participating, it was a whole lot of fun. Hunk used to come over to my place and join in all the time, dude has the singing voice of an angel!” He explained excitedly, hands waving about as he talked to make his point.

Allura smiled at his enthusiasm. “I think we had a game like that on Altea. We called it Utakita, and it was the same concept as your karaohkay although you had to make up the song yourself instead of singing along to something already made. Whoever made the best music with what they had available was the winner. I do miss playing that game, my mother was quite exceptional at it.” She informed him, reaching over to gather the mice up in her hands.

Lance pondered for a moment, thinking. “What if we can still play? I brought my phone with me from Earth, it has all my music on it. We could have a sing off and the mice can be the judges!” He exclaimed, Allura gasping and clapping her hands together in jubilation. “Lance, that’s a brilliant idea! We can hold it in the main common room!” She trilled, face alight in excitement.

Both immediately dashed off to set up the game, Lance grabbing his phone and Allura finding a music enhancer to increase the volume of Lance’s music player. It took some trial and error, but eventually it was set to an acceptable volume to sing along too.

So imagine the team’s surprise (and amusement) when they walked in after the mission to the source of the loud music to find a dolled up Lance in a dress and a human Allura wearing the Blue Paladin’s clothes singing loudly into hairbrushes along to She Wolf by Shakira.
//this….. got wayyyyy too long…. hope you enjoyed this Lance and Allura bonding time! :3
(Lance won btw. Have you even heard that boy’s singing voice? Jeremy Shada is an angel I swear👌🏻)

Still There (Sirius Black x Reader)

Request: Sirius needs some post-Azkaban love! (from @obscurilicious ) 

A/N: This is an AU where after 12 years in Azkaban, Sirius is officially released instead of escaping and being on the run.  The request was sitting in my inbox for ages and I finally got some inspiration that will hopefully do it justice!  I hope you guys like this.  It’s loosely based off a oneshot I posted on FFN years ago, but I was like 13 when I wrote that so I promise this is much better!  This also gets a little explicit, nothing too bad but definitely more intense than other stuff I’ve written.

Pairing: Sirius x Reader

Word Count: 2k+

Rating: PG-13 I think?

Warnings:  Angst, sexual themes (no full-blown smut though, this is as far as I’ll go!)

Twelve years is a long time to wait for anything, especially your fiancé.

“Hey,” you whispered as you walked into the open space of your apartment that housed the kitchen, dining area and living room all in one.  It was late, much later than you were accustomed to.   You seldom stayed awake past ten, but now the hands on the wall clock were bent at the awkward angle of 1:25 in the morning.  

Sirius was seated on the couch, one arm thrown loosely over the back cushions and his knees pulled up close to his chest.  You still hadn’t gotten used to seeing him there; after all, it had been twelve years since you last saw him and he had only just been released two weeks ago.  After the painstaking process of signing all the necessary forms and fighting past about a hundred reporters on your way out of the Ministry building, you’d finally gotten him back home.   Ever since, you always stayed awake as late as he did, because you didn’t want to miss a single moment with him, not after so many had been lost.

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concentrate + mgc

(gif made by @luketivist)

>synopsis ~ u lose ur vibrator somewhere in the apartment u share with roommate!michael, and he kinda wont mind helping u out((;
>requested ~ yess @mioety gave me this awesome prompt i love it a lot
>word count ~ 2936
> a/n ~ idk why this turned so fluffy towards the end but who cares
requests are sent in here // masterlist

With your leggings pushed off your legs, you lay on your floor, rummaging through one of the boxes you set aside beneath your desk. You took things out, then set them back in, proceeding to check three times in case you missed it the first or second time. Sitting up on your knees, you pushed your hair from your face, and tapered your eyes across the room, swearing under your breath. It must’ve been somewhere, although in its defence, you hadn’t used it in a good two months. Standing up, you walked to the other side of your room, swinging open the cabinet in the alcove, you bent down, taking out every pair of underwear you kept, and groaning when, of course, it still wasn’t there. Slamming the cabinet shut, you approached your door, pulling it open and slipping into the corridor.

Michael, fortunately, was out to finish the last tracks for his band’s new album, and told you to not wait up for dinner seeing as they planned to celebrate afterwards. He insisted you to come, but you very much needed a night alone, which so far went well – up to the point where you misplaced your vibrator. Now, you were pacing around the apartment, your hair still wet from the bath, and only a buttoned up night shirt over your underwear. Sighing, you peer over the threshold of the bathroom and stepped in, opening up your cabinet beneath the sink. After many petty arguments about whose razor was whose, you and Michael both decided to have separate cabinets – his above the sink, and yours below.

You pushed everything in your way to the side – pads, wax strips, hair removal cream, shower gels – in vain hopes that the vibrator would be somewhere behind them. Although you knew you wouldn’t have kept it in a place where your roomate could find it, you still checked everywhere in the bathroom to make sure. You didn’t need him to know the sordid details of your privacy, just as you didn’t need to know his, either. The tightness in your stomach grew, and you sat yourself down. The wetness between your thighs was too much of a distraction for you to concentrate on anything else.

Entering the living room, you slumped across the sofa, tugging up your legs, and rubbing your thumb over your forehead. Where could it be? Your clit pulsed beneath your underwear, but you refused to take them off. Not unless you found your vibrator. You knew you couldn’t make yourself feel as good just with your fingers – it just wasn’t something you were good at. Every moment you tried pushing it away, the ball knotted in your stomach deepened into your heat. Huffing, you pushed your hair from your eyes, and tried switching on the TV. Your fingers trembled and your head whirled. You couldn’t remember a time your body was begging as much as this.

When you heard the lock on the front door click, you weren’t even bothered to hide your naked legs. You lay there, your gaze meeting Michael’s as he walked into the apartment. He stopped taking off his jacket midway, and stared at you, eyebrows furrowed as he tried figuring out what happened. Of course, you looked like a mess – no pants, your hair still wet, and an unamused expression washed over your face.

He laughed. “You okay?”

“No.” You crossed your arms, and averted your attention to the TV. An old rerun of Pretty Little Liars was playing on the low volume.

Shaking his head, he hooked up his jacket and joined you on the couch, pushing your legs out of the way so he had room. Unfazed by seeing you half naked, he snatched the remote out of your hand and changed the channel. You stared at him, and considered kicking him off the sofa so you could reclaim your taken space. Shrinking into your corner, you pulled your knees up beneath your chin.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, not looking away from the TV.

Heat rose up your neck; you touched your cheek with the back of your hand – warm. “I lost something.”

You watched his Adam’s apple move beneath his throat, and found yourself staring at his lips. Bloomed with red, and parted perfectly enough to take a sip of the beer he brought into the apartment. Any other day, you would’ve been paranoid he would spill it somewhere, but that evening, all you could see was how good his mouth looked smeared with alcohol – shiny and wet. You looked away when he met your gaze, an eyebrow raised, and a teasing shimmer in his eyes.

“It’s rude to stare,” he said, and chuckled. “What have you lost? I can take a look for it.”

Bewildered, you sat up, shaking your head. “No, it’s… it’d be weird if I asked you to look for it.”

“Why? I can help.” He leaned over and set the beer can down while you watched the muscles of his back flex. You had to stop, you told yourself, but couldn’t bring yourself to shake out how good he looked in his tank. You could see a strip of skin showing through the arm hole that dipped all the way down to his waist. He faced you. “You’re always losing things, anyway.”

You blushed harder, considering to tell him. “It’s…”

“It’s…?” He regarded you expectantly.

You breathed in, and glanced out the window, not meeting his eyes. Running your fingers up your leg, you curled your toes over the sofa. “I lost my vibrator.”

Silence lapsed over you both, until it cracked with his subdued chuckle. His lack of composure made you stare at him, and he held both arms up in defence. Before he could say anything, you beat him to it.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You laughed.”

“Was I not meant to?”

Sending him a glare, you swung your legs off the sofa and stood, stalking out of the living room and across the corridor. You knew you shouldn’t have told him, it would end in humility on your end. Unsure whether you could even look him in the eye, you locked yourself in the bathroom, and remained with your hand on either side of the sink and lifting your gaze to your reflection in the mirror. You pushed your messy hair from your forehead and ran your thumb down to your bottom lip, staring at how flushed they’d become beneath the self-inflicted bite marks you left on them. Your shirt sagged down your shoulder, and you could’ve been mistaken from coming fresh out of a room full of sweaty sex, when it was really the opposite. Slamming your hands on the sink, you groaned, turning around and opening the bathroom door. Michael was waiting in the corridor for you, and looked up when he saw you come out.

“You’re not angry with me, right?” he asked gently, and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and casting your eyes to the ground. His voice was deep and raspy, and you unwillingly thought of what else he could say, how close he could be to you… Surprised to have such thoughts about your roommate, you advanced into your bedroom without a response, but he caught you by the wrist. “I’m sorry for – fuck, this is so stupid – I’m sorry for teasing you.”

Smiling, you twisted your wrist around. “I’m not angry with you.”

He tugged at your arm gently. “Look at me.”

Obliging, you turned around, faced with his breath gliding across the slant of your nose, and the faintness of his cologne teasing you a little closer. You couldn’t bare to lift your eyes to his, because you knew what they’d read – you knew they’d be spilling with curiousity of what could’ve possibly had you so worked up to submit to telling him what you lost. You couldn’t bare to meet his gaze because you knew with one look, you were gone, and you would be melting into his hands and telling him every sordid thought that passed your mind as your hand passed your heat. He was near to you, near enough to inhale the scent behind your ear. When his hand reached up and into the curve of your neck, he brushed his thumb across the shiny skin on your cheekbone. For the first time in your life, you found yourself shy in front of Michael Clifford.

Pulling the hem of your shirt down, you tried covering your cold thighs, stepping only a little nearer towards him. You could hear him breathe in, and watched his Adam’s apple bob. You tilted your head up, whispering, “don’t make me want you. I’m so ready for anything, I could let you take me in this corridor.”

Your heart beat sped up at your own words, and you anticipated his response.

The sound of his mouth moving as he spoke rose hairs all over your arms. “I hate hearing you play with yourself. I hate it. I hate it, because it’s the proof another pair of fingers are making you cum that aren’t mine.”

His hand slipped away from your face, and flattened over your collarbones, making their way down to the slope of your breast. You bit your lip, and laced your fingers into his shirt, while his caught onto your nipple above your clothes. The TV remained humming from downstairs, and the wind blew in through the open windows. Everything tangled around you both, standing in the corridor while you passed every boundary you set up when you first moved in. He groaned into your hair when his palm moved around to settle between your legs, feeling how you soaked well into your underwear.

Gripping one of your thighs, he mumbled, “jump up, for me.” And when you did, your legs were wrapped around his waist, his hands going under to hold you up, and he was walking you into your bedroom.

Your back hit the mattress, but you didn’t release his hips. He kissed you, and hard at that, his lips finding yours for a moment you could pin down to the point of when your nerves begun soaring for him. He settled between your legs and steadied your hips, smiling down at you, and loving the way your lips pulsed as his mark on you. You ran your hands over his shoulders, trying to familiarise yourself with the body you’d wanted to touch for so long. You remembered all the nights where you tossed and turned with your vibrator running over your clit, consumed with the thought of him. He parted your legs, pulling you onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Fuck,” you said, feeling the denim of his jeans graze your core when he took your underwear off. “God, I can’t believe this. I’m soaking your pants.”

“I’m not complaining, sweetheart.” He attempted to move you to unbutton them, until he was met by a whimper leaving your mouth as you ground against him. His fingers tickled the bottom of your spine. “Baby, do you wanna ride my thigh? Hmm?”

Regarding him, you balanced your hands on his waist. “I need you.”

“Is that so?” He rose an eyebrow. “You have me.”

“No, no, no,” you trailed a hand down to his crotch, feeling how warm he was as his member was a bump beneath your palm. “I need this.”

Chuckling, he cupped your fist, draping your arm over his shoulder. You blushed fiercely, the proximity between the two of you still taking you by surprise. His mouth was warm when he kissed you again, his tongue finding your bottom lip, then his teeth. Nervously, you kissed down his jaw, unsure what he liked, but hoping he didn’t mind. His grip fell on your hips, and let you slide over the denim on his jeans, a gasp tearing through your lips as the friction sent a burst of shock through you.

“Is that okay, Y/N?” he mumbled into the crown of your head, and you nodded, apprehending the next moment impatiently. “I love how you sound, baby.”

Your cheek pressed against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut when he reached down and rubbed your clit himself. The pad of his finger was callused, and you wanted to drown in the feeling of having the heel of his hand press into your waist with him making you feel better than you could’ve done in all the time you had. He traced the tip of his finger across you, coating it in your own wetness and circling the small bud, a leap of delight causing you to flinch and hold him tighter against your body. Your hips were drifting off his lap, giving him more space to make you feel good.

“Fuck,” you said, lips mumbling over his tank top. “What are you doing to me, Michael? It’s like you know my body better than I ever did.”

He slid his finger down to your core, biting his lip and gripping your hips when he felt you inhale deeply. “I’d do anything to make you feel good.”

Tilting your head up, you caught his mouth in a kiss, and he lay down on the bed, keeping your legs split across his waist. Feeling yourself blush under his gaze, you lifted his top, the skin of his belly soft and supple underneath your hands. Pushing the tank all the way up, you let him take it off, then proceed to unbutton your shirt. You shared a nervous laugh when his bracelet caught onto one of them, and his warm hand was pressed against your chest as he tried unhooking himself from you. Smiling, you unknotted the loop, and shrugged of your shirt, leaning over him with your naked chest on his.

“It feels like I’ve done this before,” he murmured as you unzipped his jeans. “This doesn’t feel awkward or strange – you feel like home.”

Your futile attempt at hiding a smile made him kiss you – not hard, nor lustful, but with an unspoken amount of love neither of you had ever admitted to each other. The love that he denied when he woke up and saw you making breakfast, or the love that you denied when he came home from a long day and felt happy to be around him again. You both shared tokens of love that were small enough to be ignored by anybody else, but neither of you ignored them. You pretended the feelings didn’t exist, but all of them did. Every single one. You reached up, lacing your fingers with his.

“You’ve always felt like home,” you told him, and sat up, running your finger along the skin above his underwear line. “I need you.”

His eyes lifted to yours, and he smiled, repeating his words the last time you said that. “You have me.”

Catching your bottom lip between your teeth, you tugged his underwear down, his member growing in your hand. You pumped him, collecting his precum on your thumb and his body trembling as he groaned, taking your free hand and kissing the back of it. His cock was hard already, but you wanted to make sure he felt as wonderful as you did when you were in his grip. You picked up your pace, but he quickly grabbed you wrist.

“I don’t want to cum just yet.” Sitting up, he tugged you closer to him. “I want to cum inside you.”

Sighing in relief, you ran your hands up his length one more time, lifting your hips and trailing his tip along your slit, which was wet from your arousal. He swore, watching you in your actions. He licked his middle finger and ran it across your clit, catching you by surprise and turning you on more than you thought you could. He filled you up, and you both moaned, his grasp on your hand tightening when you clenched around him. His palm went to your waist, helping you ride him and leaning in to kiss you.

“Michael,” you said softly on his mouth, “you feel better than I could ever imagine.”

“I could say the same for you.” He bucked his hips up, and emitted a cracked whine. “Jesus Christ, I’m so close. Already. I’ve barely even touched you.”

You shake your head, quickening your pace and making him reel in surprise. A knot forms in the pit of your stomach, and you tense up, nails digging into his thighs and he grabbed you, pulling you close and whispering into your ear.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Can you feel that, baby? Can you feel me throbbing in you?”

“God, I’m gonna cum.”

He rutted his hips onto yours, going in deep. “Cum for me, baby.”

A few moments later, your held him close to you, breathing him in and trying your best to root yourself, but you couldn’t. The orgasm washed over you hard, and you trembled, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten as he joined you, the remains of his climax running down your thighs. You fell on top of him, unable to find the strength to get up. He played with your hair, catching his breath and pulling the duvet over your shoulders. You could barely open your eyes.

“Don’t want you getting cold,” he said, and you laughed gently. “Did that feel good?”

You nodded. “Amazing. Thank you.”

He kissed your head, through your hair, and exhaled. “Anything for you. Anything.”

From Husk to Whole

Request: “Looking after Credence while he gets better (like after the events of the movie where he gets blown up?”

Pairing: Credence Barebone x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: lots of sadness?? And fluff! lil bit of smut at the end too ay lmao

Day One

His body shifted in the light, fingers fleeting into dark wisps before settling back into their natural form. He was there, but at a particular angle he appeared as more of a shadow, a ghost you could barely see. Your knees buckled at the sight, a shaking hand reaching for him. You should have felt his skin, should have been able to grasp the pale flesh and just touch him. But your fingers slipped through, with a surprised gasp his skin broke away to ashes that danced in the air. He was alive. You could see his lips moving, muttering in his deep sleep, unable to form real words. You collapsed onto the ground, forehead falling against the mattress as sorrowful sobs tore through you violently. Your Credence was there, he was alive, but he wasn’t whole. Maybe he never would be again.


Day Four

You never failed to visit him, although you didn’t know whether you could call it visiting, since you spent every waking hour by his side. Every time the clock struck at the hour, the chime bouncing off the silent walls, you checked if you could touch him. All you wanted to do was feel him under your fingers, press a kiss to his cheek. But his flesh never ceased to turn away from you, shying from the affection.

“You have to eat (Y/n).” Newt wore a grim expression, picking up yet another plate full of untouched food that had gone cold.

“I’ll eat when he wakes.” You replied robotically, not taking your gaze off the sleeping figure.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” Newt grimaced at the words, but he had to push you. He couldn’t stand to see you this way anymore, becoming a husk, mirroring the boy who lay unmoving apart from shallow breaths.

“He will.” You fought against the stinging in your eyes. “He has to.”

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Safe Haven

Pairing: Philip Hamilton x reader
Word Count: 1,221ish
T/W: Fluff and slight angst (anxiety)
A/N: For Adorable Anon’s Request: “OK so Philip x reader where the reader is scared shitless of thunderstorms (aka me hahaha) and one night it’s storming really bad and Philip wakes up to the reader crying and he helps her calm down and go back to sleep?” Ironically, I have a 7 day forecast of possible rain and it was a downpour last night!

It had to be at least 3 o’clock in the morning when Philip stirred. Thunder was cracking outside and it was near impossible for him to sleep, but he tried. Lightning lit up the room for a second, it was quiet, until another clap of thunder sounded off. Turning over in frustration from lack of sleep, he saw you. You were sitting up, knees tucked into your chest and tears streaming down your face. He waited to say anything, as another flash of light came from behind the curtains, it gave just enough light for him to see you. Rubbing your palms repetitively against the top of your thighs, you cried, gasping silently for air, staring straight ahead. 

“Baby?” Philip asked, but you didn’t respond. 

He sat up thinking of things he could do, watching your methodical movement. As soon as the thunder rumbled you stopped breathing so heavily, as if waiting for the cursed sound to strike fear into you again, and sure enough it didn’t fail. A loud sound filled the room along with the downpour of rain. You closed your eyes and hugged your knees. Philip desperately wanted to help, but this was the first time he had seen you this scared, he wasn’t judging, he just wanted to help but didn’t quite know how. 

“Wh-what can I-”

“I don’t feel safe!” you cried, partially yelling out of fear. 

Keep reading

sleepy sex

warnings: swearing, smut.

“Are you ok?”
“Do I look like I’m ok?!”
It was 1.30am and you were cuddled up with Dan in his bed, having just finished watching Spliced on his laptop.
Dan laughed and closed the computer.
“It wasn’t even THAT scary,” he teased as he got up to put it on charge at his desk.
“Yeah, ok, maybe not, but it was fucked up!” You exclaimed, pulling the duvet up over the lower half of your face so you could still shoot Dan disapproving glares from across the room.
“Yeah, it was pretty fucked up,” he agreed, climbing back into bed. He reached for you but you stopped him.
“What?” He asked.
“Why do you do this to me?” You continued with your glare.
“Do what?” He asked, incredulous.
“Make me watch horror movies before bed! Now I’m not going to be able to sleep! And I blame you entirely.”
He laughed at that.
“Oh, baby girl, it’s ok, don’t be scared, I’ll fight off the monsters for you,” he teased, holding your face and squishing your cheeks like a child.
“Don’t patronise me, you fucking spork. No, get off me. I don’t cuddle people who rob me of sleep. Daaaaannnnn,” you whined as his arms slid around your waist and he rolled you on top of him, hugging you to his chest.
“It’s ok baby girl, Daddy’s got you,” he teased.
“You’re not my Dad!” You imitated the meme and Dan laughed.
“Excuse me? Stop trying to take over my title as meme king, thanks. Besides,” his voice lowered but the smirk remained. “That’s not what you said the other night.”
You rolled your eyes at his obnoxious wink and punched him softly in the shoulder.
“Ow!” He complained.
“Oh please, it didn’t even hurt,” you rolled your eyes again.
“Yeah but it’s the thought that counts!” He replied, pretending to look hurt.
You just laughed and rolled off him again, before cuddling into his side. His long arms went around you automatically, and his lips pressed to your forehead in a tender kiss.
“I thought you said no cuddling-” you felt him smirk against your skin.
“Shut up, consider yourself lucky that I’m a charitable and forgiving person.”
The laughter made his chest rumble and you felt it hum against your own.
“I’d consider myself lucky even if you weren’t a forgiving person,” he murmured softly, the loving line making you smile.
“You know why?”
“Why?” You asked.
“Because nobody else can manage to trip over a crack in the cement, land in the bush by the sidewalk and somehow let go of your ice cream in the process and have it hit the window of a passing car.”
“I’m glad I am a constant source of amusement for you.” You mumbled sarcastically into his chest, but you could feel sleep creeping in, not enough to shut off your brain entirely, but enough to make you you close your eyes, and feel tired and warm and safe. And happy.
“You are incredibly amusing. My favourite time was probably at Peej’s party, with the lemon incident. Ooooh, maybe not, I think the time we went to buy the Halloween pumpkin, that’s a clear winner. Although-”
“Shh, I’m trying to sleep here.”
“How convenient.”
“Shut up.”
“Ok fine.”
You lay in silence for a while, drifting towards sleep but never quite getting there. The frustrating kind of dozing because you just want to sleep but can’t.
Eventually you sighed and checked the time. 3am. You groaned inwardly and snuggled back into Dan. He stirred.
“You ok?” He asked sleepily.
“Yeah, just can’t sleep,” you whispered tiredly.
“Hmm, me either.” He yawned, rubbing your arm affectionately.
You tilted your face up slightly and kissed the exposed skin by your mouth in reciprocation of his loving gesture. Except the area of skin was Dan’s throat.
A small sound of pleasure escaped him.
“Stop that, you,” he smirked down at you.
“Sorry, that wasn’t intentional,” you replied.
“Actually,” he continued with a little glint in his eyes, “that’s not a bad idea.”
“When is sex ever a bad idea?” You asked as he rolled on top of you this time.
“Never, not with you anyway,” he grinned, kissing you softly before tugging down the collar of your shirt so he could attach his lips to your collarbone. He continued moving down your body, tugging off your underwear and tossing it aside. He let out a barely audible groan at the sight of you, before spreading your thighs and ducking his head between them.
Dan was a very attentive lover, and he was always a giver. He loved going down on you, and would ask if he could, every time you got intimate. And he was exceptionally good with his mouth. You often teased that it was because he talked so much, but now, as he licked up your folds and sucked your clit into his mouth, you were forever grateful for his silver tongue. He knew exactly how to make you elicit the sounds he wanted to hear, how to make your fingers grip the sheets or his hair, how to make your thighs spasm and hips buck up into his mouth. He had unrestricted access to your control centre, and he could make you react however he wanted, just with his mouth. That was scary, and exciting, and right now, insanely pleasurable.
Dan could sense your orgasm approaching, and with a smirk, pulled away from between your legs. He pulled off his shirt and own underwear before reconnecting your lips. You could feel how much he wanted you, the precum dripping onto your stomach was more than enough of an indication. He reached into the drawer for a condom, rolled it on, and positioned his body over yours. He looked at you expectantly, albeit a little sleepy, and you nodded your consent.
Low, soft moans spilled from both of your lips as Dan slid into you, inch by inch, and he kissed you again. Your movements were slow and gentle, the rolling of hips, eyelids fluttering shut, lips parting to let out the occasional moan. There was no need to speed things up, not tonight, as you placed sleepy kisses along Dan’s shoulder and neck. It was a long and pleasurable session, a change to your usually more kinky sex, but this was a time to enjoy each other. You gazed at his face lovingly, admiring his cheekbones and lips and baby freckles, your fingers gliding slowly up his spine, making him shudder.
“What’s wrong?” He whispered, noticing how you were staring intently at his features, trying to memorise every freckle.
“I just love you a lot,” you whispered back. He smiled, and kissed your shoulder.
Minutes later he was bringing you undone, this time with soft caresses and gentle kisses and thrusts that made you both moan with each one. You watched Dan hit his own high, an experience you always felt you didn’t deserve to witness, because he glowed angelically, and the sounds he made were so desperately melodious, you felt as though your heart could explode in your chest from the gratitude of even having him in your life, let alone being in a relationship. As he disposed of the condom and collapsed next to you, he barely managed to whisper “I love you too” before he was asleep.

Endlessly and Eternally

Alex Summers x Reader

Author: Jen


Anonymous requested:  “ You should write Alex Summers X reader smut where he returns from Vietnam and it is their first time together in over 3 years? So you can do fluffy, passionate and rough all in one. Thank you soooooo much! “

Okay this took way too long to write but this proved to be challenging! I truly hope you enjoy it cause I was scared I’d sound like a 12 year old virgin! Here we go !

Originally posted by classymike44

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Engraved pt. 9

<– Engraved 8 | ( Crowned 1 –> ) | Engraved 10 –>

Short: You’re a tattoo artist for a gang known as EXO who own a club down town. (read synopsis at masterpost)
Words: 5491
Warnings: Angst? hints? hmm not much? Filler, sorry, stay with me pls TT.TT
Pairings: D.O. x Reader, slight Kai X Reader, slight Chen X Reader
A/N: A little birthday present for the best unni @oh-beyond love ya ^_~ hope you enjoy, i’ll give you that lil extra later. 

AFF Link

Your pov

You connected your lips to his. He stirred, and you slid your hand into his hair at the back of his head, playfully tugging. You tilted you head, inching closer, sitting up on your knees. He had to lean his head back, but he responded, moving his lips against yours. Slowly, softly. His hands came up to your sides, sliding up to your waist, taking your tank top with them. The warm touch of his hands against your skin sent shivers down your spine. He thumbed the piercings at your hipbones, eliciting a noise from the back of your throat.
He pressed you closer, chest to chest, as he parted his lips a little further to suck at your bottom lip. The soft graze of his teeth against your skin made you want to get closer. The soft pressure of his piercing against your lips, his lips against your own. 

Originally posted by sehuntiful

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Lena Luthor/you fic part 14

Originally posted by alyciajazmin

“Lena?  Lena, wake up.”

The sound of Lena’s quiet, distressed murmuring had woken you up out of a restless sleep.  When you finally came to and blinked the sleep out of your eyes, you had realized that Lena was having a nightmare and squirming slightly under the sheets.  


Her eyes flashed open as you gripped her shoulder and she bolted upright.  

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.”


Lena’s voice was laced with panic and you found one of her hands in the darkness.  Her breathing was ragged and loud in the otherwise silent bedroom.

“I’m here,” you assured her.  Her fingers tightened around yours and you squeezed back in response.

“I…I couldn’t find you.”

“I’m right here, Lena.  Everything’s okay.  You’re okay.”

Unsure of what else to say to help her calm down, you leaned in on blind instinct and pressed your lips against her.  The kiss seemed to quell her heart’s pounding within seconds and Lena all but melted into your arms as you pulled her close.  


There was a heat between you both that hadn’t made an appearance for quite some time.  You gripped the back of her neck and kissed her again.  In tandem, you both laid back down against the mattress.  For the first time since you woke up in the hospital, the damage to your body slipped your mind.

“Are you—“

“Yes,” you confirmed before she could even finish the question.  Your breathing quickened to match Lena’s as you tangled your fingers in her hair and delivered a trail of slow, longing kisses to her neck.  You felt yourself beginning to move too fast out of the sheer excitement associated with Lena’s touch.  As hard as it was, you dialed yourself back and shifted to hover above Lena’s torso.  You were able to make out her features now that your eyesight had adjusted to the lack of light in the bedroom.  Something jolted deep in your abdomen as Lena’s gaze locked on your own.  You leaned down to kiss her again, softer than before.  

The first time the two of you had sex, it was impulsive, fast, and drunk.  While it was a significant experience for both of you, it didn’t feel as much like a ‘first time’ as this did.  You were somehow filled with more anxiety than you had been the first time you had put your hands on her.  It was a much different feeling than the simple combination of lust and guilt that you had felt on her balcony.

“I love you.”

Lena’s admission came out as a gasp against your lips and you opened your eyes again to look at her.  There was a brief pause in the movement between the two of you, then you reached up and caressed the side of her face.  Your thumb brushed across her cheekbone as you pressed yourself closer against her still.  After a few lingering seconds, you slowly kissed her again; comforting her in a way that your words never could match.  Lena’s head tilted to the side, inviting you to take control as you usually did.  Her arms wrapped around your torso and seemed to tighten a little more with every moment that passed.

By the time you allowed yourself to venture back down to the crook of her neck, the ever present danger that lurked outside of the safe haven of her apartment disappeared.  Outside, Lillian still stalked the shadows of your imagination but in here…she didn’t matter.  Nothing did; not the drugs, your past, or your near death experience.  You took the time to trail a path of gentle kisses from her jawline down to her collarbone before gently nipping at the swollen vein on the side of her neck.  Lena’s body practically went rigid against yours when you did.


Your name sounded desperate and adored on her breath.  The soft moan that followed practically seemed to intoxicate you.  You began a pattern of slow, teasing bites followed by soothing kisses to her bruising neck.  Neither one of you cared about the evidence it would leave for the following morning.  Lena was yours and you dared anyone to try to interfere with that.  You didn’t have anything left to use.

Unable to hold off any longer, you slipped your hands beneath the thin cotton shirt covering Lena’s torso and shivered at the warmth of her flesh in your hands.  The sensation brought back vivid memories of impassioned nights spent in the same bed and you pulled away just long enough to lift her shirt up over her head and arms.  You scrambled to shed your own and situated yourself so that you could lay on top of her with your non-broken leg between her thighs.  The feeling of her nearly bare body beneath your own seemed to set every neuron in your body on fire.  

“Y/N,” she groaned your name again as you kissed down the valley between her exposed breasts.  Her legs wrapped around you and you shifted upwards just enough to press the top of your thigh against her center.  The heat that radiated from her sent blood rushing to your face.  Lena couldn’t help herself from grinding desperately against you.  The light pressure sent the air rushing from her lungs and she dug her fingernails into your back.

As Lena’s hips continued to roll in a slow, longing waves, you cupped one of her breasts with one hand and touched your lips to the stiffening bud on the other.  A low whine sounded from the woman beneath you.  Attuned to what she needed from you, you began a drawn-out massage with your lips, teeth, and hands.  The sound of Lena’s gasps and the way she reacted to the slightest change in pressure or pace drove you to take your time and appreciate every inch of skin you at one time thought you would never touch again.  Finally, Lena couldn’t take it anymore.  She grabbed your hand from her chest and guided it between her legs.


You couldn’t help but smirk against her before you lifted your head.  Lena’s face was flushed and even in the lack of light, you could tell that it was practically scarlet.

“Look at me, Lena.”

Green eyes flashed open and locked with your own.  Her ribcage continued to heave with the anticipation.  Satisfied and invigorated with the way she was practically pleading with her gaze, you removed your hand from her grip and used it to remove the last bit of fabric covering her.  

“I love you, Lena Luthor,” you reminded her quietly.  Your words hung in the dark bedroom and for once, she didn’t cringe at the sound of her last name.  It didn’t sound so poisonous when it came from your mouth.

“I love—oh,” Lena’s reply was cut short by your thumb rubbing her clit in drown-out circles and you caught the string of moans that followed in an open-mouthed kiss.  Her hips began to buck against your hand rhythmically; she was desperate for more pressure and you obliged after a bit of teasing.  The growing feeling of intensity below her stomach soon left her unable to even focus on kissing you back and you drug your teeth down her bottom lip as her head arched back.  


Her entire body seemed to lift off of the mattress when she released onto your hand.  Before her core could even stop clenching, you slipped one finger inside and then quickly added another.  Lena’s nails scratched down your back and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding against her thigh as you began thrusting in and out of her.  Every pump of your hand elicited a gasping moan and it joined the symphony of labored breathing that filled the room.

“Look at me,” you repeated the earlier request and tangled your free hand’s fingers in her hair.  As your grip tightened, Lena’s eyes fluttered open and you pressed your forehead against hers.  She writhed beneath you, completely helpless and at the mercy of your touch.  Her pupils grew larger mere seconds before she came a second time.  You helped her to ride out the climax and kissed her chastely while she came down.  

Legs still shaking, Lena was nevertheless quick to switch the positions and roll you over onto your back.  The twinge of pain the movement caused in your ribcage was forgotten in a millisecond when the dark haired woman, still breathing heavily and not yet recovered from her own orgasm, attached her lips to yours and slipped her tongue across the line separating her mouth from yours.  For the first time since you laid your head on her chest and sobbed in the shower, you released your last layer of defense and melted into her touch.  Lena’s hands traced up and down your sides, confident and familiar with the territory, and you almost whined when she pulled away from kissing you.  Her lips soon reattached themselves much lower on your body and you spread your legs so that she could continue the trail of soft kisses.  Your heart hammered in your chest as her breath gusted against the throbbing heat between your thighs.

“God, Lena,” you stammered out.  She dug her fingernails into the sensitive flesh on the inside of your legs, keeping them spread apart for her.  The first flick of her tongue sent your back arching and a guttural moan echoing off of the walls of the bedroom.  Your fingers once against intertwined in her hair and Lena pulled you even closer, burying her face between your legs.  The anticipation of finally feeling what it was to be intimate with Lena again paid off in every firework behind your clenched eyelids and every unconscious buck of your hips.  She held you down firmly, as she always did until you finished, and when you were nothing but a panting, sweat-coated mess, she finally made her way back up to you and allowed you to taste yourself on her lips.

“I love you,” you said again.  The words felt easier than they did in the daytime.  Lena settled with one of your arms draped around her and her head on your chest.  

“I know.  I love you,” she replied.  Eventually, the heavy breathing between the two of you slowed and the exhaustion from the impromptu love making began to tug at your eyelids.  Nightmare forgotten and content in your embrace, Lena drifted back to sleep



Lena feigned surprise as the door to her balcony slid open and the cape-clad woman entered the office.  She had figured that Kara would stop by to check on her, being that things had seemed a bit tense when she left last night.  Not that Lena was feeling tense now.

“Lena, hi.  Listen, I’m really sorry about yesterday.  I just wanted to get Y/N out and I didn’t think—“

“Don’t worry about it, everything is fine.  Better than fine, even,” Lena cut her off and Kara’s brow furrowed in confusion at the way the dark haired woman was almost beaming at her.  

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing!  Everything’s perfect.”

“Okay…” Kara let her voice trail off suspiciously and then froze.  She recognized that look.  It was the way Alex looked after Mag—oh God.


Lena blushed as Kara’s eyes widened in realization and the superhero pressed a hand to her forehead.  

“Well, that’s great!  I’m really happy for you guys!  Uh, congratulations.  I’m gonna gay—go.  I’m gonna go cause there’s, uh, an emergency!  Yep, an emergency!”

“I’ll see you later?” Lena called after her apologetically.  She couldn’t help but snicker to herself as Kara practically tripped over her own boots trying to get out of the office.

“Yep!  Sounds great, see you later!”  

Requests for next time? :)

anonymous asked:

Can you write an imagine where you and Justin Foley have a movie night?

A/N: I’m so excited, this is my first ask! The beginning is quite angsty but within the course of the story it ends up being fluffy, hope you don’t mind.

It’d be nice if you let me know if you liked it :) 

Nothing else, enjoy!! 

“Mom please! I love you. I’m just trying to make you realise-”

“Shut the fuck up, you nasty bastard! Don’t you see you’re the one unwanted here? Even your mother despises you. C’mon babe, tell him”

Justin clenched his fists, trying to avoid the appetising temptation of leaving purple marks all over the hideous surface of the man’s face, as a reminder of how much he hated him. If he hadn’t beaten him already it was because he had the weak hope his mother would realise the piece of shit he really was, and if that meant ending up beaten up he would go through it all without any remorse.

Ignoring his teasing, he faced the miserable woman in front of him, eyes in the verge of tears and hopes lit up she would stand for him.


“You have school tomorrow, you should go to bed…”

That was all she said.

It was sad. It was sad deep in Justin’s heart it didn’t surprise him the fact that the woman who had given him life and was supposed to be always by his side, chose a stranger over him.

The first time she proved him how important he actually was to her, he buried himself into the covers and cried to sleep, refusing to believe the person who used to be his guardian angel, gradually changed her mind and gave it all to a man she had only known for a few months.

Eventually that sadness grew into a bitterness that was only calmed down with alcohol and visits to Bryce’s house, where hours of oblivion awaited him.

However, that wasn’t enough. The aftermath was even worse: he would always wake up to the realisation he was alone, not only physically at that moment but also during the whole course of his life. And not even all the alcohol in the world could fix that.

No one loved him.

That was until you came into his life.

The first thing he did the moment he left the hopeless scenario was searching for his phone. He needed to hear the voice of his only source of happiness and optimism towards the future. Whenever everything went wrong, spending time with you or even just sharing ‘I love you’s, through your late night telephonic conversations made him believe everything would be alright.

Following four tones without answer he understood you were already sleeping, after all, it was late. He was about to hang up when your voice filtered through the speaker.

“Justin?” He regretted having called immediately, interpreting the surprise in your voice as drowsiness. “Babe, did I wake you up? Sorry I was… I just… I just wanted to wish you a good night” he said, failing in his attempt of concealing the sadness in his voice.

You knew without any doubt that wasn’t the sole purpose of his call. After almost a year of going with him through thick and thin, you realised his alleged senseless calls were very far from being that. Tears and a cracking voice weren’t necessary anymore. Sometimes he just wanted to forget everything and fall deep in the sweet refugee you always offered him.

This was one of those times.

After a silence that felt like ages to him, you asked “Baby, do you wanna come over and stay for the night?”

He let out a silent sigh and a few tears rolled down his face through the curvature of his cheekbones. Sometimes the situation was greater than him, and he couldn’t cope with it alone. You knew him as much or even more than he knew himself and always managed to help him get over it.

“Really?” “Of course, my love. My parents are away for a week. We could cuddle and have a movie night. Whatever helps you the most” As your soft voice pronounced those words he asked the world what had he done to deserve such a kind soul.

“Thank you, thank you so much”


Justin didn’t take long to get to your house. You found his downcast figure at the other side of the threshold, beginn madly, without the use of words, any display of affection.

“Hi…” You couldn’t bare the sight in front of your eyes. You tugged his arm towards you and captured him in a tight embrace, his face landing on the crook of your neck. The long sigh that went out of his nostrils invaded the room, saying nothing and everything at the same time.

“I love you so much Y/N” He said, pulling away to cup the sides of you face and bring his lips into contact with yours, moving in a slow and gentle manner. “I love you too baby. Do you want to talk about it?” “No, just… let’s pretend nothing’s happened. I just want to forget about it and have a nice night with you” You nodded looking straight at his ocean blue eyes. In a swift motion he managed to fuse your bodies again in a tight hug.


You were already sat on your bed, laptop settled on your lap, searching for ‘Toy Story’, Justin’s favourite movie. Deep in that smug outside he showed around his jock friends, there was a really sweet and pure creature.

He stood right beside you, taking off his clothes and ending up just in a piece of black boxers. Believing he wasn’t looking, you took a peek of the nice sight of his naked torso.

 You felt your cheeks burn when he said “Like what you see, huh?” With a smirk he moved the laptop aside and hovered you, tickling your sides. “Just- Justin stop!” 

Your loud giggles combined with his made the situation one of those worth keeping dearly in memory. “I’ll stop when you tell me what had you paying so much attention to my stunning body” You squirmed under his touch “Okay, you want me to tell you?” “Yeah” he breathed out. Teasingly you travelled your hand from the tattoo settled on his collarbone all the way down to the hem of the unique piece of clothing covering him. The volume of his laughs lowered when you reached that spot. “This had me paying so much attention” 

He wasn’t expecting your next movement, and let out a high pitched “Ouch!” when you tugged at the trail of little hairs that disappeared right where the piece of fabric began. You burst out in laughter when he immediately pulled away and landed beside you “You’re naughty!” He pouted, trying to stop his chuckles from joining yours “That hurted” “That’s what happens when you try to play with me, baby boy” You patted at his bum for him to lift it up so you could unfold the sheets and cover with them “C’mon let me make it up to you cuddling, is that okay?” He gave you a fake reluctant look, before giving in and breaking the tiny space that separated your bodies, legs tangled and his head resting on your chest.

“Shit, I forgot to get some snacks. I’ll be right back” He said, motioning to get out of the bed. You were fast to stop him “It isn’t necessary. I’ve got some sweets in the drawer”

As he searched for them he found two movie tickets with the title of the movie you both watched at the Crestmont on your very first date. He brushed carefully its surface and smiled to himself.

“Baby, do you really keep candies in your nightstand?”

“That’s the drawer where I keep my dearest things” you said with a wink. That only made the joyful feeling at his chest increase. 

“What are you grinning at?”

“Nothing, I just love you so much”


anonymous asked:

Can I request a Daddy!Stephen fic with Thigh riding, and eating out? Perhaps even bondage? Thank you!

Alright, this contains a combination of many people’s requests, since y'all are horny as shit….I don’t even know how many requests this combined but whatever lol Shameless smut ahead.

Master list


“You know, it would really help if you listened to me just once! I didn’t waste my time bringing you back from the brink of death just to-”

Stephen leaned back in his chair, eyeing you with an amused smirk on his face. He took a long drag of his cigarette, blowing out the smoke and chuckling as you scowled deeply at him. The war was still going on, and the more it dragged the more he found parts of himself disappearing and dying along with his men. All that he had left was you, a vision of the past that kept him going on those long sleepless nights. He had met you at the very beginning of all this, the very first time he lost a soldier you were there. A young nurse that tries to heal the fallen only to watch them die in your arms instead. You two had found comfort in each other, sometimes talking, sometimes laughing, and other times…other times in each other’s arms.

“Stop talking.”

Stephen crunched the end of his cigarette into the ashtray, tired eyes staring at the burnt end blow out slowly. He could hear you sigh in the background, his current state of mind blocking you out from his thoughts. He adored your company, truthfully he enjoyed it. But, sometimes the very noise you made grated on his nerves, making him anxious and angry that all he wanted was for you to stay silent.


Your tone was quieter, yet it still held a semblance of order in it. Stephen was slowly slipping away day by day, and it took everything you had to keep him here, in reality with you.

“Listen to me-”

The soldier scoffed, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as he shuffled his deck of cards. He paid you no mind anymore, instead he kept his eyes straight on the deck, his finger slipping over the slick edge of the card he grabbed and flipped over.

“Ace of hearts…” He spoke aloud, tapping the symbols on the card as he looked up at you. “How fortunate.”

Your brow furrowed, concern for the lieutenant growing as he continued to tell a fortune that made no sense. “Stephen, please…”

The soldier stopped his antics, face stern and eyes bloodshot as he stared up at you. “I thought I said stop talking…”

You slowly inched forward, hand coming to brush against his cheek, the stubble scratching roughly against your palm. You caressed his cheekbone with your thumb, offering him a sad smile, anything to bring him back from that war inside his head.

“You need rest, Stephen.”

His eyes were beautiful to you, a soft green that reminded you of your home back in France. But, now, now they seemed so far gone.

Stephen sniffed quietly, gritting his teeth as the pent up rage and grief began to boil inside him. He screamed out, throwing the cards on the floor and slamming his hands on the table.

“I said stop talking!”


You pushed his shoulder, gently bringing him back to your world as you felt your own frustrations rising. Stephen sighed heavily, holding his head in his hands and trying to remain calm.


Your hand rubbed his back lovingly, lips kissing the corner of his brow as you took a seat in his lap. Stephen looked up, his eyes watering with tears but he wiped them away and pulled you closer to him.

“Forgive me.”

He held you for a while, ear pressed against your chest and listening to the calming sound of your heartbeat. He needed you, always, and nothing would tear you apart, he’d be sure of that. He wasn’t going to lose another person.

Stephen shifted, his head craning to gaze up at you. “I need you…”

His words made your heart flutter, and you blushed softly at his confession. He was always a forward man, never wasting anytime when it came to such intimate subjects, but no matter how many times he told you such things it always managed to make your insides stir in desire.

You hesitantly leaned down, stopping just before your lips touched. The electricity between your bodies was evident, and Stephen brushed his fingers down your dress, gripping the strings of your smock in his hand and pulling. They became undone, your smock slipping off your waist and to the floor, your dress beneath was dirty, riddled with dirt and god knows what else, yet he didn’t care. It just reminded him how much he needed you right now.

“Will you come with me? Back to England…when this is all over?”

Stephen spoke as he trailed his fingertips down your jawline, tickling across your throat and down to your collarbone. He leaned forward, kissing the tip of it, enjoying the way you sighed at his touch. He awaited your answer, not very invested in it, but still just wanting to hear the soothing sound of your voice. His lips slid across your shoulder, shoving the sleeves of your dress roughly down. He gave you an experimental nip, his cock twitching under his uniform when you cried out in pleasure.

“Y-Yes…yes, I will.”

One of your hands gripped his shoulder, the other tangling in his blond locks and pushing his hat off. He growled deep in his throat, his hands shoving your legs apart and pushing his thigh up hard. He delighted in the way you arched up, hips rolling down and begging him to continue. He began a soft rhythm with his leg, letting you ride his thigh until you were soaking beneath your panties. The lieutenant could feel the heat of your cunt, his length aching behind the confines of his pants as it desired to be inside of you. But, he could wait for that moment, for he had all night. He couldn’t sleep anyway, he might as well spend it pleasuring the only woman he grew to love.

He grasped your hips, shoving you down harder on his leg and whispering in your ear.

“You need to say it…say it for me…”

Deep in your mind you processed his words, and somewhere between all the foggy mess of pleasure and need you found your words.

“Daddy…S-Stephen…” You panted out his name, thighs quivering in bliss as you felt your orgasm approaching. The soldier let you cum, his tongue flicking across his lips as he watched your face contort in pleasure. You moaned out his name, head thrown back as waves of ecstasy ran down your body.

Stephen kissed your neck, licking across your throat and sucking down on your pulse as he lifted you up. He placed you on the small table in his tent, pulling back for a second to rip apart the buttons of your dress and expose your bare chest to him. He stared down at you, his eyes darkening when he watched your chest heave up and down.


He grabbed his glass of whiskey, taking a huge swig of it. He never once took his eyes off you, his mind already conjuring up the many ways he was going to fuck you senseless tonight. But, for now, he could have fun. He wiped his arm across his mouth, breathing heavily as he tilted the glass over, watching intently as the drops of whiskey streamed down your neck and chest. He threw the glass off to the side, dipping his head down to eagerly lap and suck at your breasts where the alcohol had collected. You squirmed beneath him, moaning and whining for him to simultaneously stop and continue this torture. But, he didn’t listen, he kept licking a trail down your taut stomach, licking up the whiskey that pooled around your belly button.

He rested his forehead against your abdomen, trying to control the animalistic desires he felt. But, with you moaning his name like that it was growing harder and harder to stop himself.

“Tell me what you want.”

You glanced down at him, combing your fingers through his hair in a comforting manner.

“You know what I want, Daddy…what you want.”

He closed his eyes, collecting his mangled thoughts before he shook his head and kneeled down. He pushed your legs apart, not wasting anytime as he shoved his face between your wet folds. He immediately grunted into you, the very taste of your juices making him want to shove himself inside you. Stephen drew his tongue up your sex, eyes set on your face as he sucked your clit into his mouth. He shook his head, stimulating your swollen need with the vibrations.


You reached for his shoulders, wanting something to hold onto but he just grabbed your wrists, pushing your hands to the side and holding them there. He didn’t need you interfering, even if you were wildly sensitive and almost cried in utter delight at the pleasure he was giving you.

He only ever pulled away when he needed to breath, but he continued to hungrily eat you out. The lieutenant lapped up and down, kissing and nipping around your inner thighs every chance he got. He left love bites behind, marking his woman, so if he wasn’t to survive this war, something of him would be left behind. Even if it was just evidence of a passionate affair.

For what felt like the fifth time that night, you whimpered out a strangled version of his name. Your eyes were screwed shut, hair a mess on your head as you clawed into the wood of the table. He pulled away from your clit with a soft pop of his lips, watching as your sex twitched form your blissful high. He rose to his feet, boots thumping loudly into the ground as he shuffled around. He pulled his belt off, wrapping it around your wrists and flipping you over on the table so your backside was rising and exposed to him. He sucked two of his fingers into his mouth, lubricating them with his spit before bringing them down and pushing them inside your slick entrance. You were already so wet it was almost unnecessary, but the feeling of his fingers scissoring inside you was a welcomed pleasure.

“Daddy…daddy, please. I need you.”

Stephen took a breath, bringing his hand quickly down, smacking your ass and watching as a red, angry looking mark formed. He removed his fingers from inside you, settling himself at your entrance. He stroked himself a few times, closing his eyes as the endorphins began to build inside him. He nestled himself between your spread legs, pushing into you at a leisurely pace.

“Bloody-” He groaned out, one hand grabbing your bound wrists and the other resting against the smooth surface of the table. He tugged you back by the belt, shoving himself deep inside you and making you cry out in pleasure.


“Lieutenant…” Stephen growled out, wanting you to refer to him by his proper title. Which you so willingly did. His pace quickened with every word that left your pretty lips, hips working overtime as he tried to reach that point of high that made everything seem to fade.

Your body shivered under him, your mind a complete mess of heaven and hell as he fucked you. The sound of other soldiers walking passed his tent caught your ears, and something about that only ignited the fuel inside you. His cock rubbed against your sweet spot, making your head snap back as he continued to hit that perfect part of you.

“Lieutenant Wraysford!”

Stephen grunted loudly, hips now snapping forward, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the tent. He was close, and he waited until you were screaming out his name to finally let go and fill every single part of you.

Warmth spread between your legs, and you moaned out pathetically as his cock slipped from between you. Stephen fell forward, resting himself against your back that was slick with sweat.

“Don’t ever leave me…”

He whispered out, nuzzling into your neck for comfort. You tried catching your breath, angling your head back a bit to kiss his cheek.

“I never will, Stephen.”


I hope you all enjoyed it!!! ❤️ I didn’t proofread because fuck that…

Originally posted by daenery

Sleep Comes First (Zico Smut)

You’re aware of two things as your mind drifts into consciousness: a sweet soreness between your legs, and the soft drag of fingertips along your back.

Sunlight is coloring your eyelids a dull orange and you know it’s late enough that you should get up, but drifting there, in that soft, lulling space between sleep and awake, warm and relaxed and slowly taking in the memories of the night before, you’re reluctant to open your eyes. You can feel him, the body heat he’s throwing off behind you and the subtle movements of his chest as he breathes, and of course, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on your skin, and your body warms with the knowledge of how intimate you’d been last night.

Neither of you had been virginal, but in the stark reality of Zico’s very public profession and your cautiousness after a string of bad experiences, it was a mutual decision not to rush into bed immediately. You’d let the time come naturally, until his touch made you feel cocooned in safety and care, until he leaned over you and the look in his eyes made you shiver down to your toes, and it had never felt more right to be connected to someone else before. It was slow and unhurried, learning his body as he took you in and held you so close you could hardly breathe. And now you can still feel him everywhere, his hair in your fingers, his hands everywhere at once, his mouth tasting the salt on your skin. You press your thighs together discreetly; it’s almost as if he’s still resting there, his weight pressing into you, hip to hip, although you’ve felt very empty inside ever since he removed himself from you just hours before.

“I know you’re awake.” His breath tickles your ear, voice a slow, sleep-ragged drawl mumbled right against your skin. Even knowing you’ve been found out, you do your best to play it off, stretching languidly as if you’re only just stirring. “You can’t fool me,” he hums, winding a strong arm around your middle and pulls you back against his chest, and you press your face further into your pillow to hide your growing smile.

“Of course I’m awake,” your voice trembles with a yawn as you struggle to turn over and face him. “You keep touching me.” Zico’s head is pillowed on one toned arm, looking sleepy and satisfied and sweetly admiring as he watches your face come into view.

“Can I help it if I can’t keep my hands off you?” As if to prove his point, he eases one hand under the sheet that covers you to just above your chest, your skin prickling with goosebumps as his warm palm swipes over your belly and around your waist. His eyes are a fathomless this morning, watching your face with disarming intent as you subtly react to his touch with a deep sigh and small shift toward his body, and when his plush bottom lip gets caught between his teeth you can’t fight the urge to get your hands on him either. You let your fingers travel up the length of his arm to the solid expanse of his broad shoulder, and with some surprise you feel the faintest of indents there, four small crescent moons marked in his flesh, left by your fingernails when you’d clutched at him for dear life as you shook through your orgasm. You glance back up at his face, where he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you for a second, where his lips are dark, bitten pink and a little shiny from chewing them, and your stomach gives a fluttery roll at the memory of him using those lips to take a thorough inventory of your body, until there was hardly an inch left on you that he hadn’t christened with his mouth. Zico’s hand tightens on your waist before it slides around to your back, fingers splayed wide over your spine as he flexes his arm to drag you closer to him, the pound of his pulse in his throat and the rake of his eyes down to where your sheet has slipped enough to glimpse the rounded tops of your nipples, you know you aren’t the only one reminiscing about the night before.

“Zico…” you don’t know what you want to say, only that you needed his name on your tongue as your hand moves to stroke through the messy hair behind his ear. He follows your example and utters your name, every syllable dripping with the honey of his voice, and your body draws even closer to him, your covered chest pressing to his bare one, your legs tangling together until one of his is between yours and you realize for the first time how aroused he is.

“How long have you been awake?” You whisper, afraid to burst the sacred bubble surrounding the two of you, and his mouth quirks up at the corners, his eyes taking another cursory tour down your body before he answers.

“Long enough.” His eyes stay where your breasts swell just above the sheet, and with a turn of his wrist and a tiny tug, your chest is revealed to him. You watch his pupils dilate, his tongue dart out to wet his lips, his Adam’s apple bob in his throat when his hips press forward enough for his cock to find some friction against your hip.

“Long enough for what?” He cups your breast in one large hand, his palm warm, fingers squeezing and feeling the weight of it, spreading warmth through your whole body. Zico’s eyes flicker up to your face and then back down to his prize as he leans closer to you.

“Long enough to think of all the things I wanna do to you.” You feel his breath on your skin moments before his mouth closes around your nipple, teeth grazing the hardened nub and making you mewl and press closer to him.

Zico pays your breasts ravenous attention, all while his hands are fondling you, gripping at you, squeezing hard on the firm flesh of your ass to bring your hips that much closer, until, even through the sheet still between you, you can feel the heat of his length rutting up against your core. It’s so different from the night before where everything was soft, measured kisses, exploration and being as close as possible; now he’s so urgent, sucking at your skin like it will bring him enlightenment, holding onto you like he’ll never let you out of his arms.

You don’t know if it’s you or Zico or both of you who does it, but suddenly the sheet is being kicked away, down your bodies until it’s piled uselessly by your curling toes. Cool morning air makes goosebumps rise over you, and then your skin prickles even further with restless and lustful energy as Zico pulls away from you to cast his gaze down your body, taking in your bare form for the first time in full daylight. His mouth falls open a bit, and if you hadn’t been dizzy from his touch already you’d have felt self conscious under the intensity of his eyes, but as it is you can only feel a stronger pull towards him, only a desire to give him everything you have to give. He runs the backs of his fingers along your skin from collarbone to navel and back up, and your soft plea of his name makes him look back up at your face.

You cup his jaw and he moves towards you as if entranced, hand tightening around your hip and eyes drifting shut as you trace his cheekbone with your lips, down to his jawline where his stubble grates gently against you. Your thumb strokes his cheek, fingertips drifting to the downy hairs by his temple and tucking them back behind his ear. You feel out the lobe of it with your lips to his chin, down the long, sturdy line of his neck and back to his shoulder, to where you’d first found the marks you left on him in your pleasure last night, and then you lay your palm over where his heart beats strongly in his chest, his ribcage expanding and falling more rapidly by the second. Zico seeks out your mouth, his lips closing around your top lip and running his tongue against the edge of it until you tremble and sigh against him.

You reach down and take into your hand what’s been pressing insistently into you since you turned to face him;, and Zico’s sharp intake of breath, his choked grunt of your name, travel straight down to the pit of your stomach. You stroke him twice, your grip steady but light, and he nearly turns to puddy against you, eyes clenching shut, muscles taut, hips rocking into your hand. You squeeze him lightly at the base and he kisses you so hard that he pushes you right over onto your back, clamboring over you all frantic limbs and desperate, sloppy kisses and cock leaking pre cum over your fingers.

“Baby, baby…” You tighten your grip on him, twisting your hand to let your palm encircle the sensitive head of him, and his arm shakes with the effort of holding himself up above you as he reaches between the two of you and grabs onto your wrist. He pulls your hand away from him, not even giving you a chance to complain about it before his tongue is back in your mouth and he’s pressing your hand down against the mattress beside your head with his own, squeezing it in his need. “Have to…need to taste you again.”

Zico wastes no time in making his way down your body, leaving wet kisses in his wake on his descent. Between your legs he spreads your thighs further apart, his eyes intent on the apex of them where you’re nearly dripping wet for him, and then he’s leaving soft, suckling love bites against your inner thighs and making you writhe impatiently under him. Gratefully, he doesn’t tease you for long, too eager to have your taste in his mouth, and the first long swipe of his tongue is enough to make your hands come down onto his head and twist in his hair. He licks through your folds with the wet tip of his tongue, rolling it up underneath your clit and then down to your entrance. He cups and squeezes your thighs in his hands, holding you in place while he nuzzles his face against your pussy to get better access to every wet inch of you, and you can hardly keep yourself from biting straight through your lip as he makes you shake down to your toes.

“Z-Zico,” you gasp, nearly screaming the last syllable of his name when he spreads you open with his thumbs to slide his tongue inside of you as far as he can, and feeling the sleek, agile muscle curling up against your upper wall has you arching high off the bed, your muscles starting to clench as an orgasm draws near. You pant and look down at him, at his mess of slept- on curls nestled between your open thighs, his head moving rhythmically as he slowly tongue fucks you to the point of forcing all reason out of your head. Your hips buck up against his face, you can’t help it, you’re growing so close and you need him closer, you need more, and Zico’s eyes are nearly black, heavy lidded and lustful when he finally opens them and glances up your body to watch your face. They’re telling you silently to ride his tongue, and ride it you do, a ragged moan bubbling from your lips as you toss your head back, losing yourself in the nerve-sizzling pleasure he gives you while you roll your hips against his mouth.

He pulls off suddenly and you nearly start to cry, rearing up to find out what on earth he’s doing, but you can’t find a word to say when you see his pillowy mouth glistening with your juices. Two slender fingers replace where his mouth had been, sliding up into you and reaching places his tongue couldn’t, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore, falling back against the pillows, but you think you see the hint of a smirk on his swollen mouth right before his head descends back over you and your clit encircled by his tongue and sucked between his lips. Zico holds his arm over you to keep you still this time, and with good reason; with the combination of his long fingers pumping and curling inside you and his hot, wet, skillful mouth on your clit you have no hope of self restraint. Your mouth opens wide in a silent scream, stars swirl behind your eyelids as you cum, your body wracking in time with the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. He nearly has to weigh you down to keep your hips from bucking wildly against him, and your fists white knuckle the sheets and his hair.

He releases your clit with a soft moan and heavy breath, his fingers slowing but never leaving you as you lay shaking on the bed, and he watches as you blink your hazy eyes at the ceiling.

“I could eat you out for hours,” he confesses, his voice gone even more hoarse as he ghosts soothing, shivery kisses over your thigh and along your hip. You can only whimper as you struggle to hoist yourself up onto your elbow, letting the hand that had been clenched in his hair cup his cheek and trace that incredible mouth. Holding your gaze, he kisses the pad of your thumb before he sucks the tip of it, much like he’d just done to your clit, swirling his tongue around it before letting it slip from his lips. “Think you could cum in my mouth one more time?” Your brain is still fuzzy from your first orgasm, muscles twitching, and yet your pussy clamps down onto his fingers at the very sight of him and the husky, heated quality of his voice, and you can only nod, giving him a breathy ‘yes, Zico’.

Of course you can. Your body obeys his commands without effort or question, like an instrument to its player.

Every nerve is tuned into high frequency, and the quick little laps that he gives your clit are almost too much to bear. It’s wonderful as much as it is excessive, sharp electricity traveling down your legs in little jolts. You’re still so wet from your first gush that you can hear the obscene sound of his fingers working at a maddeningly steady pace, a third finger teasing at you before it slides in to join the other two and stretches you even further. You moan out loud at the new intrusion, your hands flying up to grip the headboard above your head as you writhe with breathless apprehension. Mindful of your sensitivity, Zico gives your clit a short break, tonguing and sucking your lips and around the tight ring of your entrance that stretches around his fingers, and when he hits that lovely spot inside you that he’s been grazing dead on, you give a shout, voice gone rough and keening. He gives a pleased hum against you, proud of himself for finding what he’s been looking for, and presses harder against it. You pant his name, grab at him, your feet thrashing and digging into the bed as Zico works you towards another orgasm you weren’t sure would even happen and he gives you his hand to grip. Your fingers squeeze until his circulation must be cut off, because he’s returned attention to your clit, giving it shallow sucks and flicks across and up and down and you feel like you explode, a loud cry leaving you before you can even think to stop it. He gives a quiet rumbling groan as you clench around his fingers again, coating them with another generous rush of your cum, and it isn’t until you’re a trembling, useless heap above him that he finally moves away from between your legs, one hand and the lower half of his face glistening.

You feel as if you can hardly move as Zico props himself back up over you, but that doesn’t stop you from wrapping yourself around him as his hips come to rest between your thighs. Peering up at him, Zico looks like the picture of an ardent lover, mussed hair framing his flushed face, lips swollen and still wet, body taut with arousal and restraint. Your hands find themselves at his waist, drifting down over his slim, fleshy hips and around to his backside where you squeeze at him. His response is immediate, a hard buck of his hips into yours, driving his cock, which was already heavy and craving attention against your lower belly, against you for friction, his eyelids fluttering as he takes in a hard breath through his nose.

“Zico,” you sound wrecked to your own ears, even as you reach for his face and bring him down to kiss the mouth that brought you to such dizzying heights. You fight against the sluggishness in your limbs and draw your legs up higher around his waist, causing your hot, drenched center to drag up against his needy erection, and he shudders against your body, a low whine rising in his throat. “Fuck me, Zico.”

When he enters you, he holds himself there inside you, buried to the hilt, his hips flexed against yours as he tips his head back, back bowing as he lets out a loud groan. Your legs clamp tighter around him, fingers digging into the firm muscle on the backs of his arms; he’s hot and rigid and so deep inside you that you can’t find a single sound to make when you open your mouth.

He lowers himself down over you, pressed flushed against your body as he claims your mouth in a searing kiss until your lips are sore and beyond that, pressing his forehead to yours to fix you with his darkened eyes. One hand grips your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he ruts into you, fucking you with deep, deliberate snaps of his hips that make your already sensitized nerves go haywire, no hint of the sweet and gentle lovemaking that was last night. The bed squeaks and rocks with every thrust, his steady grunts and humming moans coming every time he drives himself home.

You don’t feel as if you could cum again so soon, but the way he feels filling you up and pressed against you is more than enough. You clutch at him, holding him to you, breathing his breath as he breathes yours and trying your best to meet his powerful thrusts. Zico’s face falls to your neck, his mouth devouring the skin there and making you buck underneath him and moan into his ear. He rears up then, your legs finding themselves in the crooks of his elbows, your body bending to his whim as he maneuvers you into a position to drive deeper. Your nails scratch at his back and sides, your breath panting out of your lungs as you watch the sweat bead on his brow, watch his face set in pleasure and determination.

“Come on, baby, fill me up,” you encourage him, wrapping your arms back around him, clutching at the sweaty skin of his back as he arcs down over you with a curse. “Cum for me, Zico. Cum inside me.”

He surges into you once again, and with a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper of your name, he spills himself into you. Three good, warm spurts burst from him, filling you up as you squeeze and milk him for all he’s worth.  The muscles in your legs are sore when he lets them go, and Zico crumples over you in an exhausted, sweaty heap that smells of sex. Of course, you likely don’t fare much better.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He mumbles into your neck, hands trailing slowly down your sides and over your legs as if to scan for injuries. “Was I too rough?”

“No,” you shake your head so vehemently he chuckles, stretching contentedly as much as you’re able to with him still on top of you. “It was amazing.” You smile and peck his cheek. “Please don’t hesitate to fuck me like that again.” Zico’s mouth is all smirk as he raises up to watch your face.

“Well, if you insist.” You share another languid, tongue filled kiss, his soft laugh shifting into a deep, satisfied groan that you feel in your own chest. “Mm, that was….incredible.” His hands come up and cup your breasts again, giving them each a little squeeze and a soft kiss. “You’re incredible.” You feel your face warm in a happy blush, smiling at him and brushing dampened strands of hair from his forehead.

“Ditto.” Zico only drags himself off of you when you push at his shoulders and complain of being squished, and even then you nearly have to roll him over yourself. You’re happy to bring the sheets back over the both of you and mold yourself up against his side as he flops his long arms around you for a cuddle.

“I’ve got no control when it comes to you,” he says on a long breath, as if he’s admitting something he can hardly believe. “Not now that I know what it’s like to be with you.” He tucks his face against your shoulder again, nosing at your collarbone and the crook of your neck, and your heart swells with so much affection for him it’s hard not to spill your every feeling and secret to him as you rub his back slowly.

“You don’t need to control yourself with me.”

“I’ll show you how crazy you make me.” Zico huddles you close to him, encased in his arms as a huge yawn takes him over for a second. “But sleep comes first.”

topic: fighting and makeup sex with Harry

okay! so! I feel like Harry is the type of person who takes fights in a relationship fairly serious. When u guys would fight, he would eventually back down if he sees it’s getting into dangerously high grounds, letting out a deep, tired sigh and knuckling at his puffy eyes, dragging his hand down his face and looking at you all soft and resigned, slouching into the couch and patting the spot next to him. “Come sit down, love. Let’s settle this out without the screaming, yeah?”

And you guys would talk the problem out, unraveling the issue and ultimately ending up with you nuzzled into his side, your legs draped over his as he hugs you tightly, smoothing his hand up and down your back soothingly and kissing the top of your head lovingly, encouraging you to cry if you had to. “Just let it out, pet. S'okay– waterworks are necessary sometimes. Just let it all drain out, okay? M'here, darling, m'here.”

And he’s all warm and soft and strong– he’d put out a strong front for you to lean on until you’re okay again, but there’d be times when he, too, would need to let out all of the pent up emotions. Sometimes it’d be in the form of silent tears with a red nose and lots of sniffling bc he doesn’t want to break down completely, and sometimes it’d be full on sobbing bc he’d need to deflate entirely in order to get back up, his breathing rattling and his shoulders jolting uncontrollably, low chokes of whimpers bursting from his mouth and you’d kiss his wet cheeks and eyelids and comfort him just as he does to you.

And then there’s the fights that aren’t as serious as they look. Fights that generate from days to weeks of bottled up stress from both of you and they’d eventually break out from no where. It could be something as simple as him walking into the house tracking muddy shoes across the wooden floor and you’d explode. Worst case scenarios with these types of fights would be him walking out on you for the night, crashing somewhere else to allow both of you to simmer down. But most times, he’d end up storming into your shared bedroom, grabbing some pillows and a blanket and stalking back out to the living room, declaring that he’d be sleeping on the couch for the night. He’d do this bc he wants to show either of two things, depending on the fight: if the fight is in between the mild to severe range, he’d do it bc he wants to show he’s still himself– that he still loves you and wants you to be more comfortable while thinking the whole thing over; that he would still sacrifice himself for you to get the space you need. Then there’s the other, which would be when the fight is overly severe (where it’s just pure anger and chaos with hoarse screaming and stomping and flaying arms), he would do it to brag and show that he’s the bigger person– the tougher fighter. That he can take the heat and then some.

These severe fights would be called “frus fights,” short for “frustration,” meaning it’s out of pent up shit that came out due to tiredness and the need to let out steam. It’d end up with you guys separated from each other and you’re fuming and gritting you’re teeth, wanting to punch a wall bc Harry can be so fucking impossible sometimes.

So you guys would go to bed on opposite sides of the apartment and around 2 or 3 A.M, you’d get a text on your phone from Harry. It’d be the two simple words: “Frus fight?”

Here, he’d be telling you that he acknowledges the fact that the fight was do to frustration and he’d be asking you if you thought the same thing. You’d sigh in relief, typing back, “Frus fight.”

And then you’d bite you’re bottom lip, trying to suppress a grin bc, simply stated, frus fights = rough makeup sex. You guys had established that in the beginning of your relationship. Easy as that.

“You coming to bed?” you’re fingers would hover over the keyboard as you see that he has read it and you can hear his bare feet padding across the ground outside your room as he heads towards it.

The door creaks open and you quickly flip onto your stomach, making sure he has a proper view of your bare legs since you’re wearing one of his t-shirts bc even when you fight, you want to be close to him somehow.

Harry squeezes through the door, eyeing you with a cocky smile but you can’t see it bc you’re hiding your face into your forearm, liking the suspense. He saunters over to you and you feel the bed dip as he gets onto it on his knees and crawls over to you, sliding his arms up the mattress and under your body, hugging you to the front of his as he lays over you. And he kisses up your spine, moving your hair out of the way to trail up your neck, his hands beginning to grope your hips more harshly.

He’s right at your left ear now, blowing softly as he shifts against your back, rubbing his semi-hard against your backside subtlety. His voice is a low and throaty whisper, thick and croaky because of the screaming from hours prior. It’s teasing. “You gon’ apologize, minx?”

And you bite into your bottom lip, swiveling your ass slightly against his bulge. “Nope. Aren’t you?”

And you can feel his almost predatory grin against your hot, dampening skin. “You’re going to have to pry it from my cold, post-orgasmic-weakened hands.”

“The usual?” The rule is that the person who comes first is the one that has to apologize first.


And before you know it, he’s flipping you onto your back, shoving his hands down your panties and roughly pinching at your clit, his lips claiming your neck as your whole body arches against his flexing arm and you’re already pooling into his hand, aching for him to fill you up.

And when he does, it’s quick and harsh– full of slamming, scratching, bruises and biting. He has your legs thrown over either sides of his hips and he’s fucking into you fast, rolling the swollen nub in between his index finger and thumb while the other is snaked around your back to keep you steady against him. Your arms are wrapped around his broad shoulders so your hanging off of him, body jolting as he fucks up into you, grunting and sighing spastically. And he suddenly releases you, shoving you flat onto your back and he grabs your hips, working them against his own with so much raw power that you can practically feel him in your stomach.

He’s sweaty and red-skinned, growling out his noises of pleasure. “Gonna give up? Y'won’t last much longer, baby. Can feel you clenching around my cock. You wanna come, don’t you?”

He slams his forearms down on either side of your head, sifting his fingers through yours and crossing your arms over your head as he keeps ramming into you, your clit catching on his pelvic bone and the intensity of your screaming is starting to hurt your head.

“Come for me. Know you can be a good girl for me. Just let it out, moppet.” He’s licking and nibbling down your jaw and across the area of your collarbones and every thrust he gives is syncopated with his breathing. Inhale, push in; exhale, draw out.

You’re a gasping, clawing mess but you’ll be damned if you give in first. “Over my d-dead body– oh!”

And he just chuckles darkly, burying one hand in your hair and tugging roughly, picking up speed, his thighs slapping against yours and he’s biting into your lips, his spastic breathes filling your mouth along with his tongue and his face is scrunched up, eyes crinkled at the corners as he hold himself from spilling inside you.

He bites into your shoulder, leaving purple marks as a reminder. And you’re writhing and bucking up against him, legs locked around his lower hips as he fucks you into the mattress, the whole bed creaking. He grabs the hair at the crown of your head, leveling his face with yours and his eyes are parallel with yours, sparking with an ominous dominance that you crave so bad.

He doesn’t liven up his thrusting, but pushes in harder, your noses nudging and swollen lips brushing and he keeps close eye contact with you, striping you of your determination. His voice is quiet and soft, but heavy with assertion. “You’re going to come and you’re going to do it now.

He releases your wrists, the hand in your hair staying in place and the other wraps loosely around your throat, applying enough pressure that it gives your body an adrenaline boost. His thumb presses into the side of your jaw while his index and middle press into the opposite side, keeping you from turning your head away as he establishes his hold over you, physically and emotionally. You bask in it, loving every second of it. You can’t hold up anymore bc his cock his brushing the perfect angle and he has an arrogant smirk twitching the corners of his lips as he licks them lightly, curls falling across his sweaty forehead as he presses the side of his face against yours, his lips ghosting over the crest of your left ear again.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you, doll? Can feel you squeezing– such a tight little thing you are for me, hm? Daddy’s naughty baby girl, picking a fight you couldn’t even hold your own against ‘cause you knew I was right. And now, you’re gonna be begging for so much more than just my forgiveness.”

You gasp out, digging your nails into the flexing muscles of his back as he gives a short, hard thrust, not drawing out but staying in up to the hilt to where you can feel his warm balls pressed against your ass. The only sound is both of your labored breathing, Harry kissing his way down your cheekbone and to your chin, his eyes taunting as the hand in your hair gives a demanding twist.

His cockhead is wedged against your g-spot and you’re melting into his arms, body jerking without consent as he dangles you over the edge. “You gonna give it up?”

“No.” Your voice is weak and strained.

And you feel him shifting onto his knees, preparing for the winning blow. “S'a shame. Was gonna lick you clean as a reward, but I guess not.”

He suddenly draws out and rams back in and you feel something inside you snap– he feels it too as your whole body tightens against him. And he takes this advantage, picking up where he had left off and finishing you off ruthlessly. You come hard, gushing out over him shamefully and going limp in his grip and he hums out a laugh, shaking his head with fake pity and tutting. “That was too easy, kitten. Too easy.”

You’re sobbing in sensitivity as he keeps rocking into you gently, milking the orgasm out for everything it’s worth, giving butterfly kisses to the racing pulse in your neck as you convulse under him. “Tha’s a good girl. Every last drop for me, alright?”

And when you finally finish, feeling empty and depleted, he cradles you into his side, kissing your temple and pressing his nose to the side of your head, clearing his throat playfully and arching an eyebrow expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” you huff, swallowing thickly and closing your eyes in fatigue.

“Apology accepted, petal.” He hugs you tightly, kissing across your nose and cheeks. “I’m sorry, too.”

A second passes by and then he speaks up shyly, “Do you think you could finish me off? It’s hurting something awful.”

“Sure. Just let me get the cock ring.”

“Oh, fuck.”

It’s A Gift - Derek Hale (Smut)

Change - BANKS ♪

 Poor poor baby

Say you can’t help the fact that you’re so crazy

And you’re so good at making me feel guilty

For trying to walk away 

Warnings: nsfw, mentions of domestic violence, sweet!derek(bc that needs a warning for ur heart)

❀ Gif credit to owners/creators ❀

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#162 - For anonymous x2

Filling the prompts “the reader is an artist and upon spotting Van, decides to sketch him. Van being the confident man he is approaches the reader and is impressed” and “van dating an artist, and when she moves in with him he and the lids build a little art studio in the backyard for her?”

It had been a long winter and as soon as that fucking sunshine came out you were on the bus and off to the park. On your usual bench, you curled your legs up and sat cross-legged, watching the world go by. The breeze was still cool; hardly anyone had committed to a full summer outfit. Scarfs hung from bags and umbrellas were under arms, just in case. Pulling your sketchbook out, you dug around for a pencil. You weren’t picky about what you used to draw with in the book. There were a few pages that even had scribbles of coffee, a stirring stick your makeshift paintbrush. Anything would do, as long as whatever image was in your head found its way out onto the paper. The muddy puddles, muddier dog paws… The mums with their strollers… The girl with green hair working at the café across the road… You captured them in ink.

The café was one of your favourite places to watch people. You’d never actually been there but your bench in the park gave you a front row seat. It was buzzing that day; every seat out the front occupied by someone seeking the sun’s returned warmth. Surveying them all, your eyes stopped on a guy having breakfast with who you assumed were his parents. He’d caught your attention because each time a dog walked past, he’d lean out to pat it. Racking up four conversations with strangers before his food even arrived, you could sense his kindness. As the waiter delivered plates, he moved his reflective sunglasses onto his head, pushing his brown hair back. You started to draw.

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Lay - Rainy Day

Sorry, I meant to get this up sooner, but there was a freak storm in my town and the power was knocked out for a day :(

Genre: fluff, the fluffiest of fluff
Word Count: 2400
Enjoy ^^


The boom of thunder was what woke you up from your mid-day nap. You sat up, frowning and rubbing your eyes as your sight adjusted to the dark living room around you. You looked over at Yixing, who was still fast asleep on the other couch. Standing up, you stretched and made your way over to the window. You cracked the shades, only to see another thunderstorm in progress. It had been raining for a week straight, leaving you locked in. Given that Yixing had two weeks off, you two had the ideas of going on lots of day trips and numerous outdoor activities until the first thunderstorm advisory had been issued.

“It’s alright, hopefully it clears up,” he told you the previous night as you were getting ready for bed. “Maybe we can go hiking tomorrow.”

Now, as you stared out the living room window, Yixing stirred in his spot on the couch. You turned around to see him sit up and take in his surroundings. His dark hair was disheveled, his clothes bunched up in nonspecific places. He peeled the blankets off, stood up and stretched his arms, letting out a short groan. His gaze found you at the window, and he groggily made his way over to you. You gave him a small smile and glanced at the clock.

“It’s 3:00,” you softly told him. You pulled your hair up in a ponytail, in an attempt to cool down your neck. Yixing waited until you lowered your arms to give you a tired hug, his heavy arms wrapping around your shoulders as he leaned into you.

“Early enough to go back to bed,” he muttered against your neck, playing with your tied-back hair.

You chuckled. “Yixing, we’ve been sleeping the whole day. We even skipped lunch-”

Yixing cut you off by gently tugging a strand of your hair and making a distressed noise you couldn’t quite place. His arms retreated from your shoulders, and he brought his hands up to your face, lightly cupping your cheeks. He placed tired kisses all over your face, until finally his soft lips found your own. You relaxed more than you already were, and smiled into the kiss, letting him have his way.

After a few seconds, he pulled away and grabbed your hand. “Come on, let’s go back to bed. The couch was nice, but it would be nicer with the both of us on it.” He started walking back towards the larger couch, tugging at your hand to lead you back to the couch.

You frowned. “We haven’t been doing anything but sleeping for the past three days.” You squeezed his hand, and he slowed his (already slow) march towards the couch. “Can we at least do something of leisure? I know we planned to go hiking, but obviously,” you gestured to the closed shades, “that’s not going to happen.”

“What could do in weather like this?” Yixing stopped, his dazed state dissipating and his eyebrows crinkling together as he thought about what the two of you could do together.

“Watch a movie?” He paused, letting go of your hand before slightly shaking his head, as if storing that idea in the back of his mind. You smiled at the concentrated expression taking over his face as he chewed his lip, staring at the floor.

You thought of a few ideas yourself. Cards, cooking, board games, and countless others flitted through your head, but none of them sounded interesting. You ran your eyes over Yixing’s body; the pair of grey sweatpants he was wearing drooped on his hips, the extra fabric bunching at the knees and pooling at his feet. The baggy tank top was twisted around his torso, presumably from napping on the couch. You glanced at his exposed collarbones, travelling up past his neck, and lingering on his pink lips before accidentally meeting with his dark eyes. You quickly looked away, realizing that he caught you staring at him. He ran his hand through his messy hair in an attempt to fix it, and clearing the distance between the two of you, gently put a hand on your hip and drew you into his embrace. He went to cup your face again, but this time it seemed a little more rough.

He kissed you again, but with more want than before. His hands went down to your waist, pulling you closer and sliding underneath your shirt. You went with it, allowing the kiss to get deeper as he added tongue, before registering what he was thinking of doing in order to pass the time.

Yixing broke away, lightly panting. His hands rested on your hips, thumbs tapping to a nonexistent beat. “Do you want to…?”

You sighed. Of course it was an option, but that was definitely not what you had in mind. You tried reading his face; he seemed more awake than before, but not enough for sex. Not that tired, sloppy sex was bad, but neither of you seemed to be in the mood. He must have just misunderstood me when he caught me staring, you thought. It’s easy to mix up a hooded gaze with a tired one.

Yixing caught on, and brought a hand up to your face, placing it under your jaw as he caressed his thumb on your cheekbone. “Yeah, me neither.” You laughed and your head dropped down, which caused him to let out a short giggle, his head doing the same thing – effectively bumping your heads together.

You snapped your head up, laughing even harder now after blurting out a small “oops!”, and enveloped Yixing in your arms. He hugged you back, his shoulders shaking as he laughed into your ear. You brought your hands up to the back of his head, threading your fingers in his short hair as the laughter faded. He tried walking the two of you over to the couch, knowing that he was stronger than you, and if you were stuck in his hold there would be no competition. You tried digging your heels in the floor, but he wasn’t having it. After several attempts to move you at least a few inches, Yixing gave up and bent down, scooping you up by the waist and slinging you over his shoulder.

You squealed, your arms flailing as you sought something to hang on to. “Zhang Yixing, you better not drop me!”

He laughed. “I won’t, the couch is only a couple steps away.” You groaned after hearing this, sounding more like a wheeze as your stomach was digging into his shoulder. Yixing lightly smacked your butt, and let his hand rest there as he carried you. “Don’t worry, we don’t have to sleep,” he said, walking over to the couch.

As soon as you reached the couch, Yixing wrapped an arm around the back of your knees and one around your back, swinging you into a bridal-style embrace. You folded your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder as he sat the two of you down, with you sitting sideways on his lap.

“So,” he started, “what should we do?” You tried moving off of his legs, but he only held on tighter. You gave up, leaning back on the armrest of the couch and stretching your legs out in front of you.

You stayed silent, trying to think of more ideas that would entertain the two of you. Yixing smiled, studying your face as you frowned, failing to come up with something.

“I can’t think of anything,” you grumbled, shrugging as you played with your thumbs.



“You sure?” his hand went further around your waist, drawing you even closer until he could reach your stomach.  He dug his fingers into your ribcage, causing you to yelp and squirm, caving in as you swatted at his hand.

“Agh, I’m sure!!” you told him, trying to find relief as Yixing continued to tickle you. He stopped, snickering as you gave him a small glare.

“Alright, because I have an idea,” he said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You frowned even more. “Why didn’t you tell me before?!” you threw your hands up in a sort of “we-could-have-skipped-all-of-this” gesture, and Yixing grinned.

“Because you’re so cute when you’re defeated,” he cooed, kissing your cheek. Your face involuntarily warmed as you looked up at him, immediately met with his warm brown eyes.

“Well, let’s hear it,” you said, reaching to squish his cheeks in retaliation (and partly to cover up your own embarrassment). Yixing smiled, his dimple appearing and increasing his resemblance to a cinnamon bun, effectively making you giggle. “Cute,” you remarked, smiling as you tilted your head and pecked his squished lips.

“We should make a fort,” he said. You let go of his face, thinking about it. Your fingers ran through his hair, playing with the dark tufts as he waited for a response.

“Do we have enough furniture for it?” You looked around the living room, surveying the amount of available cushions and blankets.

“I think so,” he nodded. He craned his neck, counting the possibilities in his head. “Sound like a plan?”

You shrugged. “What else are we gonna do?” You went to get off his lap, but Yixing held you back for a minute, burying his head in the crook your neck.

“You know I love you, right?” he stated, his voice sounding muffled. His dark eyes peeked up at you as you looked down at him, and you couldn’t help but think oh my god this boy. You must have saved the country in your past life to be this lucky.

“Yes, and I love you just as much,” you responded, and moved to stand up. Yixing let you this time, and stood up with you.

“So, where do we start?”

“Well,” you began, “Let’s get the materials first.”

Five minutes later, you had a pile of couch cushions, blankets and pillows sitting in a cleared area in the middle of the living room. You put your hands on your hips, thinking about the different layouts of a fort that would both be strong enough to hold without breaking, and large enough to fit the two of you. Your thoughts were interrupted when Yixing hugged you from behind and rested his head on your shoulder.

“What now?” He muttered in your ear.

You set your hands on top of his and played with his fingers. “I’m thinking.” You chewed on your lip, until finally coming up with a plan, in which you let out a triumphant “aha!” You explained the layout, pointing to different parts of the living room and saying what should go where while he listened. When you finished explaining, you turned your head and looked for approval. Yixing reluctantly let go of you, but nodded in consensus.

“Sounds good,” he said, and proceeded to pick up a few pillows. “So I hold these while you set the blankets, and then we can use them as weights for the ones used as a ceiling. We can use the leftover cushions for walling and flooring.” You hummed in confirmation, scooping up the blankets. “Alright, let’s get started then!”

After an hour of trial and error, the two of you stood in front of the fort, admiring your finished project. The fort consisted of three walls, including the back of the larger couch. The open wall was only open to the television, of which the ceiling blanket was hanging off of so the two of you could watch movies while sitting comfortably inside the structure. The ceiling was made up of the comforter from your bed, which was draped on the backs of the couches and held in place by the heavier pillows. The spare cushions and pillows were used as the flooring inside with a few extra blankets neatly folded at the entrance. The door was a hole between two cushions that made up the wall, and a light linen blanket served as the cover. The fort as a whole was up to your waist and took up the entire living room excluding the couches.

You turned to Yixing, a smile spreading across your face; hopefully, the fort wouldn’t collapse like the last six times you tried setting it up, all of which ended with the two of you tearing it down in disappointment. “I think we did it,” you said, holding out your hand for a high five. Yixing smiled, and a sigh of relief came from his lips as he slapped your hand.

“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing to the open door of the fort. You grinned and nodded before bending over and crawling into the new (and hopefully structurally sound) fort. Yixing came in a few moments later, briefly glancing around until his eyes rested on you, who in turn was sprawled out on the makeshift bed. He layed down next to you and reached for your hand, entwining your fingers together. He scooted closer and wrapped his other hand around your waist, pulling you for the rest of the distance between you two. You let him; there was no use in saying no now.

“What should we do now?” you asked him, trying to find his face in the dark area. He took care of it for you, pressing his lips to yours and bringing his hand up to your jaw.

He pulled away after what seemed like a short time, and shrugged. “I didn’t think past this part,” he admitted. You cracked a giggle, making sure not to headbutt him this time. You suppose it wasn’t so bad to spend the rest of the day like this.

You snuggled closer to Yixing, smelling his worn cologne and feeling his chest rise and fall with every breath. Outside the fort, you could hear the heavy pattering of the rain on the roof as the week-long storm carried on, uninterrupted. A loud boom of thunder made you jump, making Yixing laugh and pull you closer (if that was possible). His arm went up to the nape of your neck, drawing you into his chest when your arm wrapped around his torso, hand slipping under his tank top to feel the smooth skin of his back. He was so warm and comforting; you felt like you could lay with him forever, and perhaps that was a good thing.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yes, y/n, and I love you just as much.”

Originally posted by glorious-soobooty

Thank you!! <3