#HARRISON SPINS BACK AROUND

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

“A favour” - Seventh Virtue

Sharing this because it’s super gay I was re-reading some of this book for funsies and I’m now losing it over this interaction & need to scream into a void!

An excerpt from Seventh Virtue. Adult contemporary fantasy.

Is this a reversal of “Is this why you needed me?” PERHAPS.

Text transcript under the cut!

Harrison nods, clutching the pliant trim of his jacket. “Do me a favour,” he says, trying to find the best way to phrase his request. Then he finds Lonan’s eyes again, and nothing about him is nervous, but determined. “The next time you’re feeling unsteady, tell me. I don’t care if it’s a look, if it’s a word, if it’s a paragraph. Just tell me. We can talk if you want to talk or not talk if you don’t want to. But if you need me, I want to know.”

Lonan considers this for a moment, and then drops his face into his palms. Instinctively, Harrison takes another step closer, like he might’ve done when they were still a couple, when they still slow danced to no music in Lonan’s cramped bathroom, when in dewy morning light, the most certain thing in each of their lives was each other. Something pangs in his chest, and it takes him a moment to identify the emotion as the same grief he experienced in the infirmary hallway. How terrible, to be in front of a stranger you recognize.

Harrison lifts his fingers to his mouth, chews on his nails. The bathroom is beginning to strangle with heat, and despite his attempts at also being steady, he’s ready to flee this room, this property, this life, all of it as easy to destroy as a bleak line of dominoes. He turns.

“I need you,” comes Lonan’s voice.

Harrison spins back around.

This time, when their eyes meet, there’s something aflame there, something cerulean, exposed, urgent.

“I need you.”

[willieverseetheland]

mama?

Dexter Morgan x reader

based on this ask!

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, violence, domestic violence, all the usual Dexter stuff, very much angst Summary: Following Rita’s death, Dexter and reader become close as they deal with the aftermath.

It was a quiet evening. You were sitting on your balcony watching the full, glowing moon. You were deep in thought when your phone began to ring, pulling you back to reality. The caller ID said Dexter Morgan, you thought this was strange as he and Rita were supposed to have left on their honeymoon. Maybe they decided not to bring Harrison along after all. But when you answered, it was a woman's voice.

"Hello? This is Debra Morgan with Miami Metro Homicide, is this y/n?"

"Yes?" You replied with a slight quiver in your voice, confused. Homicide? What is happening? "There's been an incident, Dexter thought you should know. However, he's preoccupied at the moment. Rita..."

Her voice begins to shake, you can sense that she's about to cry

"Um, Rita's been murdered, I understand you two were close."

It was like the entire world stopped. Murdered? Rita was the loveliest, sweetest, most pure-of-heart person you knew. Who would possibly have wanted to hurt her?

The phone slipped out of your hand. Thankfully you were already sitting down, or you may have fell off your balcony. You can hear the woman repeating "hello, are you there?" over the phone. But everything was static. Nothing made sense. As it all began to settle into place, what really happened. You let out a loud sob. Shaking violently, tears streaming down your face. You bang your fist on the ground, screaming. Angry at the world, or whatever higher power that existed. As you sat there and sobbed, you began to think about Harrison, Dexter, Astor, Cody, everyone else who knew and loved Rita. God! Poor Harrison. He hardly got to know his mother.

You think of all the times you saved Rita from Paul. All the late nights scared it would be the last time. Scared, because you didn't know when it would be the last punch, kick, slap. There were honestly times you thought he would kill her. You thought you had prepared yourself for this, but how could you, how could anyone. When he died, you were there to support Rita of course, but deep down you were glad. You saw first-hand how he treated her, how it affected the kids.

Rita was like a sister to you. You considered yourself like an aunt to those kids. A piece of you died today, something you don't know if you'll ever get back.

--

You were awoken by the sound of loud honking. You open your eyes to see the bright morning sun over Miami. It made you angry, how could the world go on when yours came crashing down less than 24 hours ago. You look around, you must've cried yourself into exhaustion and passed out on your balcony.

You go back inside. Your cat comes up to nudge your leg. You look down at him and he just stares at you and meows. You wish you could be like him, blissfully unaware of all the evil in the world.

You go to make a pot of coffee, but you just collapse on the floor of your kitchen. How can you go on? Rita is dead. Harrison, Astor, and Cody just lost their mother. Dexter lost his wife. And yet the world keeps spinning. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, it's your boss. You look at the time, you were supposed to be at work an hour ago.

"Fuck" you sigh, leaning your head back against your kitchen counter

You answer, telling him you won't be coming in today, death in the family. He can be a dick at times, but he's understanding when it comes to this.

You scan your apartment. Eyes settling on the picture on your bedside table. You walk over to it, picking it up. It's a photo of you, Dexter, Rita, and the kids at Rita's birthday party. You place it face down; you can't bear to look at it right now.

Dexter lingers in your mind. God! How could you be so selfish? He must be in shambles right now. Grieving the death of his wife and having to be responsible for little Harrison. Maybe you should go check on him, see Harrison. Might take your mind off of things. Or make things worse. You don't know. Either way you need to do something.

You throw on a sweater and your shoes. You know the house is likely still a crime scene so you can't go there. Dex and Harrison are probably with his sister, who conveniently lives at his old apartment, so finding the place won't be too difficult. You drive like a bat out of hell, trying to get there as fast as you can.

You arrive and knock on the door, no one answers. You knock again, still no answer. You figure nobody is home, so you turn to leave. As you start walking away, you hear the handle turn, and the door unlatch. You turn around, seeing Dexter peering out from the crack in the door. You greet him with a warm smile as he opens the door fully. You immediately lean in for a hug, which he doesn't move away from but doesn't exactly reciprocate. He just stands there with his arms at his side, stiff. He does lean his chin on your shoulder though. He sighs in relief, shoulders loosening.

"Deb called me last night, told me what happened. I know it's probably a stupid question, but how are you?" You look in his eyes, sincerity and empathy written all over your face.

He knows this is hard on you too.

"I'm doing okay, I have to, for him." He turns to look at Harrison, sleeping soundly in his crib.

You two go to sit on the couch, you place a hand on his shoulder, trying to be comforting.

"I found him sitting in a pool of her blood" He turns to look at you, face empty, exhausted.

Your hands fly to your mouth as you gasp

"Dexter, my god. I'm so sorry" Tears begin to well up in your eyes

"If it's too much you don't have to answer, but how did it happen exactly? Deb told me she was murdered, but not what happened."

"You've seen the trinity killer on the news, right?" He turns to look at you

"A single cut to her thigh, slicing the femoral artery. She bled out." His voice is steady, concise.

Anyone who didn't know Dexter would think he's unbothered, but you know this is just him. He's devastated on the inside.

"I, I uh... that's horrible, I'm sorry you had to see that." Your voice is soft, comforting.

"If it's any help, I wouldn't mind watching over Harrison for a few days, while you get the funeral things figured out. And Astor and Cody, if needed."

"They're with their grandparents, they don't know yet. They're coming back today. Thank you, that would actually be a big help." He gives you a slight smile, you can tell it's forced but you appreciate the effort.

--

The days go by, each one as painful as the previous. Everyone tells you to take it one day at a time, but nothing is changing. Nothing is getting better. Her funeral was devastating, you cried the entire time. You tried to stay strong, for the kids, but seeing her lying there, you couldn't. She looked beautiful, like she was sleeping. Astor and Cody went to stay with their grandparents in Orlando, which you know is hard on Dexter. He really loves them. You switched your hours around so you could work nights and watch Harrison during the day while Dex is at work. Harrison has been the only highlight of your life recently, one of the only things you have left of Rita. He's truly an amazing child, and thankfully he doesn't seem to be affected by what happened. You know Dexter was really concerned about that.

You've tried to be there for Dexter as well, but he hasn't been as accepting. You understand though. However, it's what Rita would want you to do. She always trusted you to take care of her family. You considered Rita to be like a sister, and it's what you would do for family.

You take Harrison back home that afternoon. Dexter has the biggest smile on his face as he takes Harrison into his arms, he's a great father and loves Harrison so much.

"How was he?" He questions

"Wonderful as always, he's such a little angel" You smile

"But the real question is, how are you, Dexter?"

"You don't have to worry about me, I'm fine" There's a hint of irritation in his voice

"Dexter, but I do worry about you. You've just suffered a great tragedy. I just want to be sure you're okay"

"I just told you I am okay, why do you care so much anyways?" He shakes his head and places Harrison in his crib

"It's what Rita would've wanted!" You exclaim

He turns around to look at you, you can see that he's distraught. Being a single parent is never easy, especially one that's grieving.

He sighs

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I really am okay, I promise" He gives you another one of his classic fake smiles, you know he doesn't want to talk about it anymore, so you don't press

"Alright, if you insist"

--

It's been almost a year since Rita's death now. You still miss her like crazy, but things have gotten easier. Harrison is walking and talking which has been very emotional, you wish Rita was here to see it. He's become a part of your regular routine now. Dexter offered to pay you to be his nanny, but you declined, quite aggressively. Dexter kept insisting but you would not accept under any circumstances. Spending all this time with Harrison has also meant spending quite a lot of time with Dexter as well. You've grown to really care for him.

One morning, you were over at Dexter's feeding Harrison breakfast. Dexter was getting ready for work. He came out of the bedroom, shirt unbuttoned. You couldn't help but stare, which made you feel guilty. You admired his hands as he swiftly fastened the buttons, his arms as he rolled up his sleeves, his sculpted chest peeking through the top of his shirt. You felt wrong. He comes over to give Harrison a kiss on the head. As he walks by, his shoulder brushes yours. You blush, in embarrassment and due to your true feelings. As you airplane another spoon of yogurt into Harrison's mouth, out comes something that shocks you to your core.

"Mama" Harrison babbles

You and Dexter immediately make eye contact. Your eyes are blown open wide, mouth agape.

"I'm so sorry, I have no idea why he would say that" You panic

"It's alright, he doesn't know any different" Dexter reassures you

You and Dexter just stand there, looking at each other. He smiles, a genuine smile this time. Something you've missed seeing.

He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. He brings his hand to your cheek and leans in, placing a tender kiss on your lips. You immediately melt. You felt so guilty for feeling the way you did, falling for a man who was grieving his dead wife. You bring your hands up to hold his face. Deepening the kiss. When you pull away, you can't help but smile a big goofy grin. Dexter is smiling too, which makes your heart flutter.

You stand there in comfortable silence, before Dexter announces he has to go, and that he wants you to be here when he gets home. He kisses your cheek and leaves. Your heart feels so full. However, you still feel guilty, like you're betraying Rita, but you also feel like this is what she would want. You know her family well, and you love them like they're your own.

You lay Harrison down for a nap, kissing him on the forehead. You grab a cup of coffee and go outside. It's a chilly spring morning. As you're looking out over Miami, a white butterfly lands on your finger. A tear rolls down your, cheek. You've never been much of a spiritual person, but you know it's her, and suddenly everything starts to feel like it's going to be okay.

...

Literally almost cried while writing this, I love Rita so much. I hope I did your vision justice! Sorry it's so long lol

[luveline]

hi! your stories are so captivating😍 Thank you so much for doing them!

If you feel inspired I would love to see a story of Spencer x badass reader where she physically defends him from an unsub and/or verbally from someone they are working with like a cop or something

tysm! ♡ 1k

Sweat drips into your eye. 

It follows a line down your cheek like a teardrop and hits your swat vest with a thud. Quiet has settled with the heat, a blanket encompassing everything, your one drop of sweat enough to give you away. The unsub stills at his computer screen, white light bouncing against his jaw. He looks up like he's looking for rain. 

He turns right first. He sees Spencer. 

"FBI," Spencer announces steadily. 

You point your weapon at his chest. "Put your hands up and stand against the wall." 

Cory doesn't look like he's going to surrender so easily. "You have three children upstairs," you say, though it's not true. The children sit outside in foil blankets, and with any luck they'll be taken somewhere safer before the arrest. "Three young children who love you. What do you want them to think of you now? Come peacefully." 

Cory's face rippled with rage quickly masked. He sits back from his computer and pauses. Then, slowly, he puts his hands against the wall. 

"Reid," Morgan instructs, at your left, his gun similarly trained. 

Spencer moves forward to handcuff him. It's not your normal routine but it isn't out of your jurisdiction, quieter arrests often mean you act as cops rather than full-fledged agents. "Cory Harrison, you are under arrest for the homicide of Tara Harrison. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say–" 

The handcuffs clink as they're whipped from Spencer's grasp, one cuff open, the other closed around Cory's wrist, the links brought unapologetic to the pale curve of Spencer's throat. 

Spencer grabs for his gun. Cory pulls the cuffs tight, forcing Spencer closer to his chest and choking the air from his throat. 

You reposition your aim. Another drop of sweat curves past your eyebrow. The basement humidity and your panic threaten to blind you. 

"Let him go," Morgan says sharply. 

"I'll shoot you if I have to." 

Cory scoffs at you. "And shoot through string bean?" 

You tense your finger against the trigger of your glock. "I have good aim," you say simply. 

You have no intention of firing. Cory has a standard issue pair of handcuffs to his discretion. He isn't big or muscled enough to kill Spencer bare-handed, not quickly, and he's on unsure footing. 

You step closer. Cory snarls. "Stay back. I'll kill him, you stupid bitch–" 

Men. Cory killed his defenceless wife with rohypnol and a rope and now he thinks he can win a fight against two agents trained extensively (admittedly one more than the other) in defence. He's lucky Spencer's in the way —you would've attempted to push his nose into his brain. As it stands, you hook your leg between his and Spencer's, your teammate more than aware of the manoeuvre you're about to pull. With one hand you pull the cuff links cruelly up against Spencer's neck but away, most importantly, allowing him the room to dive from Cory's grasp, and with the other you tuck your gun out of Cory's reach. His arms up, his stomach open, you pull your leg behind his knee and grate your foot down his calf.

He collapses to the floor. You stomp your foot into his groin. 

Morgan saves you the chore of cuffing him a second time. He reads the Miranda Rights by heart as you catch your breath, stepping back into Spencer's open hands. 

You relax at his touch. He's alright, he–

"Did I hurt you?" you ask, spinning on your heel. 

Spencer pouts at you, irked at being worried after. "Of course you didn't." 

"Your neck, I almost choked you like he was," you say, mindful of the agents and specialists flooding the room to secure the crime scene and any evidential material. 

Spencer lifts his chin. "Doesn't hurt." 

There's a rubbed red line up the column of his throat, but it could be worse. You finally wipe the sweat from your face, exhausted and ecstatic that you got the bad guy. 

"Come on," Spencer says.

You follow him outside. In the grass yard waits medical, parked along the entirety of the street stands law enforcement. Hotch nods at you as you return and you take it as a job well done, slouching against the side of a cop car to take a breather. 

"You okay?" Spencer asks. 

You grab for his hand without looking at him. His fingers are warm, neat as they slot through yours. "Why do they always pick on you?" you ask. 

Hotch's voice startles you, but you don't take back your hand. "They underestimate him," he says. "And you. Do you need anything? You're looking…"

"I'm fine." You're tired, too hot, and the short-lived adrenaline of a confrontation is crashing. "Thanks, Hotch." 

He trudges away. Spencer draws closer as you bend forward, his hand on your back. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

"No, I feel awful. I feel sick," you confess. 

He's the only person you'd ever admit it to. You crave his comfort. Spencer must read your mind (or more likely, the twitch of your sore back), his hand landing in the space between your shoulders as he crowds you. "That makes sense. High stress situations make us nauseous because of the fight or flight response. Our body's aren't good at keeping neurotransmitters where they're meant to be. Adrenaline mostly, but cortisol too. It's probably the norepinephrine that's making you feel sick." 

"How do I make it calm down?" 

"Just take a deep breath," he says, rubbing your back. 

You breathe in and out until the sick feeling subsides. Spencer prompts you into standing tall. 

"You know everything," you say fondly, touching his elbow. "Thank you." 

He nudges you. "Thank you for defending me." 

[sachiko6243]

Daddy's girl

Summary: Carlisle just taking care of his little girl, while they are chaperoning a school trip

This is part of a story I write on Wattpad, as I am conviced this man needs more attention. Its called "Save Haven - Carlise Cullen". Feel free to hop over, my account name is in my description. 🥰

Word count: 3667

Warnings: period sex, daddy kink (sorry, it got the best of me 😏), praise kink, description of blood, general warning for the vampire daddy himself

Minors DNI! This contains adult content

It had been a draining day. Misses Harrison insisted on going the whole hike she planned out even though it was raining all morning. When we came back, I was drenched to the bones, shaking like a dry leave in the wind. And to all abundance, my period decided to come a few days early. So, I was fighting the whole hike against the cold, while my stomach tried to kill me. Back in the cabin, I let Bella hop into the shower first, because she looked even worse than I did. The Cullens were finished with changing their clothes so fast, I didn’t even realize they left.

When it was my turn, I pealed myself out of the wet clothes, groaning at the pain shooting through me. All I wanted was to crawl in my bed and forget the world even existed. Luckily, Carlisle was able to talk Misses Harrison out of her collective plan for the evening, convincing her smaller house groups could would be easier to be kept entertained during the shitty weather. After a hot shower I changed into fresh clothes, wrapping my up in one of Carlisles sweaters I stole from him for the trip. I looked like I drowned inside his way to big clothes, but right now I only cared about them being exceptionally warm.

Leaving the room, I ran into the Cullen kids and Bella sitting on the sofa. Jasper tensing up as soon as I stepped into the living room. He had been avoiding me like the plague all day, and it wasn’t until now, that it hit me. My period. He could smell my blood. “We all can.” Edward answered. “Good luck with Carlisle though.” He chuckled turning back to play with Bellas hair who was in a deep conversation with Alice. I scrunched my nose at his mysterious words, but shrugged it off, entering Carlisle and my bedroom.

As soon as I entered, I understood, what Edward meant. Carlisle was sitting on his bed and when his eyes landed on mine, he let out a low growl. His nostrils flaring, while his body tensed up. Instinctively, I stepped towards him: “Whats wrong, honey?” But he raised his hand, stopping me from approaching any further: “Don’t come any closer. Your smell… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Is it because I am on my period?” I asked, stepping back towards the door. He groaned at my words, leaning back on the bed. “Yes. I thought I could handle it, but its worse than I’d like to admit.”

“But you are not affected by human blood.” I said, not fully understanding what he meant.

“That’s not entirely true. Other humans blood doesn’t affect me. Yours on the other hand is another story. Like Bella to Edward you are my singer. The one human whos blood is more appealing than normal. And if I wouldn’t be abstinent for such a long time…” He let the end of his sentence hang in the air.

Sucking in a deep breath, I grasped for the door handle: “I will leave you alone then. I don’t want to overwhelm you.” But I wasn’t even able to fully open the door, when he was behind me, shutting the door with such force, I was surprise he didn’t break it. “No!” He growled. “Not when Jasper is around. Not when you smell this good.” His hands were on each side of my head, caging me in between the door and his tall frame. My heart beat so fast in my chest, that my head started to spin. Carlisle dipped down his head, starting to kiss my neck up and down, growling deeply the whole time. Him being this close made me tense up, but he didn’t seem to notice, grabbing me by my waist, pushing me into the corner of the room. I tried to force him back, but he didn’t even react to my hands pushing him away.

“Carlisle stop.” I whispered, my voice shaky and fearful. He didn’t listen, so I tried again: “Carlisle, you scare me.” Those words seemed to snap him out of his frenzy, because as soon as I said it, he jumped back, cowering in the opposite corner of the room. “Aubrey, I am sorry. So sorry. Please forgive me. I couldn’t…” He stopped, looking away from me. My eyes went soft, as soon as I saw how much he struggled with it. “Don’t worry, Carlisle. I trust you.” My words didn’t seem to help him one bit. Raging up he looked at me with angry eyes. “No, Aubrey. I could have easily killed you, or gone against your wishes. You don’t understand. I am a monster!”

“But you didn’t.” I answered calmly. “You stopped when I asked you to. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Everyone makes mistakes…”

“Yeah, but mine get you killed. I should leave.” He got up from his crouched position, but I moved in front of the door, blocking him from leaving. “Get out of the way, Aubrey.” He growled, but I shook my head. “I am not going anywhere. You either tell me how I can help you, or I am not moving.”

Carlisle squinted his eyes. “I could easily move you out of the way.”

“Then do it.” I challenged him, tilting up my chin. “Move me out of the way. Show me what a coldhearted monster you are, that doesn’t care for my feelings.”

He roared in anger and it took everything in me not to run away from him. Because right now he really did look like a vampire. The way his black eyes hungrily scanned me, his whole body shaking in anger and frustration. The way he clenched his jaw to fight for control. But he didn’t touch me, or force me away from the door. One last deep growl later he sank down on his bed, collapsing in himself.

I took that as my cue to sit down next to him, grabbing his hand and leading it to my face. “I love you, Carlisle. Much more than I can tell you. Please tell me, how I can help you.” He took a deep breath, the expression on his face growing softer. “There is not much you can do. I just wasn’t prepared for you to get your period. I expected it when we where back home so you in this small room, smelling so appealing… It just got the best of me.”

“So, you don’t want to kill me anymore?” I joked, tilting my head in his hand. He chuckled, softly caressing my cheek. “Not more than usual.” Suddenly he maneuvered me on the bed, until he was leaning on top of me. “You do however look very cute, wearing my clothes.”

I could feel the tension in the room suddenly shift from strained to sexual.

Carlisle had me now pinned underneath him, planting soft little kisses on my neck and face. “Just cute?” I asked, audibly out of breath by his actions. He hummed into my ear. “Actually no. You look fucking ravishing.” It was a rare occurrence for him to cuss, but whenever he did, he used it in the most sensual way possible. “I wanna fuck you.” His statement caught me off guard, making me stutter in surprise: “I am on my period. And you nearly lost it minutes ago.”

Nestling with my sweatpants and my hoodie, he grinned down at me. “Sex has been proven to help with the cramping and the pain.” I didn’t resist him taking off my clothes, relishing in this intimate and dirty moment he was creating. “So, this is for pure medical reasons?”

“Purely.” He whispered against my ear, causing goosebumps to erupt over my whole body. Before I could even blink, he vanished from the room and was back, before the door fully swung open. A big towel in his hand. Lifting me up with one arm, he planted the towel underneath me, setting me back down again. Then he shuffled down until his head was between my legs.

“What are you doing?” I shrieked away, but he just kept my legs open, a wicked smile starting to spread onto his face. I knew what he was about to do, but I was still caught by surprise, when he tugged on the string of my tampon, effectively pulling it out. Carelessly he wrapped it inside a paper towel, disregarding it on the floor. “Carlisle!” I yelped out, but the rest of my complaint got stuck in my throat, as soon as he dipped his head down. A deep moan rumbling through my body, as soon as he licked one long stripe over my pussy.

My fingers found their way to his hair, pulling on the roots. His deep sensual growl answering my desperate needs. I could feel myself growing wetter instantly. Welcoming his cold fingers into my warmth. His touch was as light as a feather, having me on the edge of madness in seconds. “Carlisle.” I breathed out, unable to focus on anything else than the man between my legs. Pulled into the depths of his black eyes.

He was fingerfucking me slowly to the rhythm his tongue danced on my clit. “Please don’t stop.” I cried out, not caring on who was going to hear me. The smirk that started forming on his face was breathtaking. Full of confidence and arrogance. Something I rarely saw on him. “Never.” Was all he answered, slowly adding another finger. It was ridiculous how fast he was able to find that sweet spot deep inside of me. Fingers feeling so good, I couldn’t stop the moans spilling through the room.

“You taste so good.” He groaned, raising his head to properly look at me. His chin and mouth were covered in a mix of my slick and blood, making me gasp out in embarrassment. He looked so dangerous and appealing at the same time it was impossible for me to stay sane. Watching intently how tiny droplets of blood ran down his chin, dripping from his fangs. It was a dance on razors edge, having him taste my blood while simultaneously fingering to my orgasm, but I didn’t care. Mesmerized by the way his eyes were flickering between lust and hunger. Between the desire to fuck and kill me. And me being absolutely turned on by it was something I never imagined to happen.

Carlisles smile just grew wicked, when he realized how his appearance affected me. Wiping the blood off with his fingers licking them clean in the most sexual way I could imagine, he looked me deep in the eyes. “You like that, do you?” He asked. Unable to answer as I felt a third finger thrust against my core, I moaned in pleasure. “Answer me, love, or I will stop.”

“Yes.” Was all I was able to press out, is name now falling of my lips like a sweet prayer, not that there was anything holy left in this room, but I couldn’t care less.

As if he sensed the coil in my stomach growing tighter, he placed his other hand on my mouth, muffling my moans. “Careful, love. You were the one who didn’t want things to be official yet, remember?” And right as he said it, I could hear two of the female teachers pass our window, chatting about something. Luckily the curtains had been closed all day, because if it would have been otherwise, they would have seen the predicable scene I was caught in.

Dipping down again, his fingers and tongue kept working me relentlessly, finally pushing me over the edge. I lunged forward, as much as I could against his strong frame. My orgasm hitting me like a strong wave, pulling me deeper into the ocean. I let out a muffled cry, shaking uncontrollably in his arms. But Carlisle wasn’t finished with me. Coming up with his head, he licked my remains from his lips, wiping the rest of it on his shirt. His hand still playing with my pussy, he pinned me down against the mattress, kissing me hungrily. He tasted like a mix of my slick, blood and his overwhelming scent, turning my bones into a puddle in his hands. I attempted to catch my breath, which was hard, when Carlisle definitely wasn’t set on showing any mercy. Processing what just happened, I clung to his body.

Carlisle Cullen may be the calm collected gentleman for everyone else, but in the bedroom, he was as filthy as one can get. The difference only I got to see, making me melt into his arms even more.

His hands were roaming over my body, making me squirm under his cold touch. I felt the heat rise in my core again, my body calling out for him. “Please…” I whimpered, hooking my legs around his waist, pulling him in. “So needy.” He mused, kissing his way down to my breasts. Him taking a hard nipple in his mouth, had me jolt in blissful pleasure. Desperately for more, I tugged on the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. He understood what I wanted, standing up from the bed in one smooth motion. Then he was back on me again, his cold skin pressing against my hot body.

I could feel his hard cock rubbing against my core, twitching in anticipation. He guided his hard member into me, easing his way in slowly, but I was tighter than usual, another wave of cramps hitting me right when he entered me. I knew he could feel it, by the way he cursed under his breath. He stopped mid movement, jaw clenched, but his eyes showing me how much he cared for me. Waiting for me to give my okay. After a while I nodded, allowing him to fully bottom me out and when he did something between a moan and a painful hiss left my mouth.

“I am sorry, love.” He apologized, pulling back, but I kept him in place with my hands on my shoulder. “Its not you. I am cramping.” I let out, tensing up at the sudden pain shooting through me. “Just be careful.”

“Always.” Carlisle started to move slowly, distracting me from any pain with kissing me until my head spun. It didn’t take long for him to have me mewling his name again, eyes rolling back in my head. I held onto his shoulders, my legs wrapping around his waist giving him a better angle to fuck me.

He set a deep slow pace full on set to pleasure me as much and long as possible. I could feel how my walls started to accommodate him more, his cock soothing the cramps with every move. I hummed in pleasure, sinking into the pillows even more. “You feel so good. ‘S so good.” I mewled, not really caring how audible my words were. But his vampire hearing still enabling him to understand me.

“Let go, love. I got you. You are safe.” His words were water on a hot stone, instantly dissolving into steam clouding my mind. My limps were tingling, the knot in my stomach growing bigger and bigger every second, my brain completely short circuited, purely filled with his presence and the feeling of his delicate fingers, playing with my breast.

I barely processed, how he hovered over me, his full bodyweight supported with his left elbow, lips kissing every inch of my body. I was in heaven right now fucked by a literal god. And maybe him completely having me cock drunk in seconds was what got me to let out the most guttural moan I ever produced: “Daddy.”

It took me a few seconds to comprehend what just happened, but as soon as the realization fought its way through my fogged brain, I clasped a hand in front of my mouth. But Carlisle didn’t seem to mind my slip up one bit. Quite the opposite. He let out a low growl, nudging me with his nose. “That’s what I am to you? Your daddy? Fucking you so good you stop thinking properly, hm?” I just blankly stared at him, caught totally off guard by his shamelessness. “Is that what you want from me? Be my little girl, I take care off?” Shifting his weight, so he was now hovering over me with both arms pushing him upwards, he was now towering over me, his thrusts not even faltering one second. “Say it again, baby girl. Let everyone know who you belong to.”

“Daddy.” I moaned again, when he hit a particularly deep spot inside of me, pushing all the air out of my lungs. He smiled at me, leaning back on his ankles, while simultaneously raising my hips to fuck me deeper into the mattress. “Such a good little girl, you are. Taking your daddy so well.” He praised me, not letting go of my eyes. “Keep your eyes open. I wanna see you, when you make a mess on my cock. Oh, and what a mess you will make.”

I ripped my eyes open again, not being able to resist the soft English drawl he let slip in that moment. I could feel how the knot in my stomach was about to pop, threatening to throw me into the ocean of pleasure. And by the way he smiled down on me, he knew. Knew from the way I shivered in his hands, twitching uncontrollably around his cock. “Go on. Don’t be afraid, my love. I wanna see those beautiful eyes roll back in your head, when you come. Wanna feel how good I fuck you.” He spurred me on, smiling cockily.

And as on cue, I came.

Hard.

Back arching from the bed, my eyes rolling back inside my head. My whole body shivering in pure bliss from my orgasm, lips hanging open in a silent scream. I never came so hard and fast. The difference between the still sensual deep pace he thrusted into me and the rough filthy things he said to me, making my head spin in confusion. But Carlisle was not finished praising me: “That’s it. Ride it out, love. You are doing so good. Looking so beautiful like this.” I could feel myself leak on his lap, causing his cock to now draw even more lush noises from my pussy.

“Carlisle!” I cried out, now in complete subspace. “I need more. Please, daddy.”

“More from what?” He teased, not once faltering in his moves, driving me up the wall. “Use your words, little girl. Tell me what exactly it is that you want from me.”

“Harder, daddy. I need it harder. Need to feel you, please.” I begged, hands reaching out for him, trying to pull him down, but he resisted and I could hear the smugness in his words: “You already feel me, love.”

I cried out in desperation. “More. Need to feel you everywhere, daddy.” Finally, Carlisle gave in to my pleading, but different than what I expected. He pulled back from me, causing me to whine at the sudden loss of contact, but he shushed me quickly. “Shh, its alright, baby girl.” Manhandling me onto my stomach he hiked up one leg, settling between my thighs once again. And as he entered this time, he pressed me down with his full body. Effectively caging me in between his hard frame and the soft mattress.

“Yes.” I whimpered, feeling him thrusting much deeper into me than before. “Don’t stop. You’re making me feel so good, daddy. So safe. Thank you.”

“Always, love. Everything for you.” He growled in my ear and I could hear this whole situation didn’t let him be as unaffected as he firstly led on. The way he was now going harder, pinning my hands down with his strong fingers showed me how much it strained on his self control.

“Its okey, you can let go.” I mewled, arching my back to take him in a deeper angle, but he just groaned. “No. I am not finished with you yet.” The pure determination and possessiveness in his voice striking my once again. I moaned his name, calling out for him, earning a soft bite on my shoulder. “Such a good little girl. Taking me so well.” Sneaking a hand around my hip, he pressed two fingers on my clit, sloppily rubbing circles on it. “I wanna cum with you. Feel you around my cock, when I breed you. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, daddy.” I cried out, muffling my voice in the pillows. Goosebumps started to spread all over my body, a hot fire burning deep in my core once again. I clenched around his cock, eagerly wanting to milk him, feel his seed fill me up. Even though I knew I couldn’t get pregnant, the though of him breeding me whenever he liked, set things inside of me free, that I didn’t know I had.

A second shiver ran down my spine, spurring him on to fuck me even harder. His fingers were now moving faster, more demanding to give me a third orgasm. I started to shake uncontrollably, an indication for him, I was close. “I got you. Cum for me, love.” Was all he needed to say, to push me over the edge a last time. I came, a shivering mess underneath him. Clamping down on his cock, a muffled cry on my lips.

“Good girl.” He growled and I could feel him twitch inside of me, shooting his cold seed deep into my core. Riding out our orgasm he littered my back with kisses, leaving hot bitemarks behind, careful not to make them too visible. I gasped for air, blindly bucking against his frame, signaling it was getting to much for me. Instantly he, pulled out of me, starting to cuddle me, until his coldness made me shiver.

“Lets get you cleaned up, love and ready for bed.”

[oneforthemunny]

cowboy!eddie ask:

OH MY GOD THESE COWBOY EDDIE SMUT FICS!!!!!

horny hours ahead.

Just think about this. At the first stage of their relationship, eddie and reader had a thing going on, a situationship but not an official relationship, so reader is head over heels for eddie, and eddie is smitten too but their pride gets in the way. So one night reader is having fun with her girlfriends at some town gathering ??? ( i don't know how they're called) and she wants to make eddie jealous. She wears her favourite sundress, red with spaghetti straps and lace and all and she flirts with other boys from town ALL NIGHT LONG. So our cowboy gets furious and wants her to himself and just needs to make it clear to her.

You can take it from here with your absolute best taste in smut writing.

this was so much longer than I meant it to be holy fucking shit.

18 + MINORS DNI

he really just enjoys the banter the two of you have, but honestly, he thinks the two of you are exclusive. he thinks it's so cool how you're not super clingy and will let him work, and then he picks you up and you guys chill.

that's never the case now is it?

you're convinced he's just fucking with you. playing a sort of cat and mouse game that you have no interest in partaking in. he rarely calls you, usually only comes by to take you out and then fuck you, leaving your apartment early saying something along the lines of "gotta get back to the horses, baby, they don't care that I'm sleeping in. they wanna get fed." in reality, it's the truth. he's not one to hump and dump, but he's gotta take care of his animals. still, you're furious.

the flower festival, to welcome in spring, is always downtown. most of the town shows up, there's a parade, and lots and lots of booze. more importantly, there's a band and you show up, wearing your favorite little red number (eddie's fave too) one that always catches between your ass cheeks when you walk, holding your cleavage up and sitting pretty on your chest.

eddie's drooling when he sees you, grinning over at you when you catch his eye. the only thing is, there sits lynette, the town whore that's always had a thing for eddie. she's a regular buckle bunny, who's pined after him for years. she's tried everything.

you're seeing red, and it's not just your dress. furious, you go up to chris, grinning and placing your hand on his bicep while he escorts you to get a drink. you don't look at eddie but you can feel his gaze on you.

the whole night goes like that too. eddie watching you flirt from boy to boy to boy, giggling, batting your eyes, twirling your hair. what does it for him is when harrison plucks his hat off his head, placing it on yours with a wink. eddie's had enough.

"'scuse me." eddie grins, calloused hand wrapping around your upper arm. "'m gonna take this little lady from ya for just a second."

you don't protest, letting him drag you, boots scuffing against the cobbled ground of the street. eddie is taking long, striding steps towards the parking lot, unrelenting in his grip on your arm.

"eddie, let go of me! I'm not done hanging out with my friends!" you huff.

"friends?" eddie scoffs, jaw clenching in anger. "fuckin' friends, yeah, they seem like they wanna be your friend." he seethes.

you scoff, rolling you eyes. "oh, don't tell me you're jealous, cowboy." you snap. "we're not anything special anyways. you're too busy with all your other little ladies aren't you?" you challenge, eyes squinted at him.

eddie blinks, scanning your features. "have you lost your mind?" he asks.

"no, but you certainly have. now let me go." you snap, wrenching your arm out of his grasp. "go talk to lynette or-or alice. I don't want to distract you."

"why the fuck would I talk to either one of them?" eddie throws his hands out. "why would I -hey, I'm talkin' to you." eddie grabs your arm, spinning you around to face him. "you gonna walk away from me when I'm talking to you?"

"who do you think you are?" you scoff. "you don't get to talk to me like that. not when you ignore me all week, and then think I'm gonna spread my legs and be on your booty call rotation with those other bitches. I'm not interested in that."

"what the fuck are you talkin' about?" eddie huffs, jaw clenched. "I told you, I had auction all week, and I was gonna take you out thursday, and you said you were sick!"

"because I'm not going to be played by you, eddie!" you shrill in the parking lot, uncaring of the people around you who might hear. "I'm not going to be competing for your attention with these other girls-"

"-goddamit!" eddie yells, slamming his hand in frustration on the metal of his truck. "I don't want any of those other girls. I want you." his eyes are intense, fierce, chest heaving hard under his band tee. you swallow thickly.

"I don't know who's told you I've been with other girls, but I haven't alright? when I'm not workin', or sleepin', I'm trying to be with you." eddie huffed, moving so he trapped you against the car, tattooed arms caging you. "I want you, you little brat, not anyone else but you."

your bottom lips quivers, flushing under his sweet gaze. your lips are on his in a moment, hands raking through his curls in an intense kiss that lead to the two of you fumbling around in his back seat of his truck.

eddie's belt buckle pressed against your thigh, the imprints of whatever saying or figure onto the soft skin while he thrusted into you, hard and unforgiving. his hand cradled the back of your neck, holding you close to his chest, while his other gripped the headrest for balance.

he was abusing that spongey spot inside of you, sure you'd be gushing soon. his thrusts were hard, breath heavy in your ear, curls falling loose from his bun and tickling your neck.

"you ever act like that again, and I'll use this belt to blister that cute little ass, you hear me?" eddie sneered, grunting when you clamped and gushed over his cock, strangling his thick member around your velvety walls.

"and you ever put on another man's hat, darlin', and you'll be in real trouble. don't you ever do that again." eddie growled.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry." you whimpered, nails gripping the fabric of his shirt, balling it between your fists.

eddie pounded you out, leaving you filled and flooded at the same time over his seats. good thing they're leather, eddie thought when he saw the mess you'd left behind.

he took you back to his place that night, pounding you out all night until the roosters were crowing, making you wear his hat while you rode him until your thighs were trembling and giving out.

eddie watched you, tangled under his sheets, the golden light of the morning sun on your skin, your parted lips puffing out air against his inked chest. he knew the horses would be waiting, but he couldn't bring himself to get up just yet. to leave a sight as precious and perfect as this. he knew you'd be around for a while, he'd make sure he could keep you around, keep you happy and all his for the rest of his life.

[whore-ibly-hot]

Hi!❤️❤️

How would Harrison react if reader outright confessed to him and wanted to be in a relationship?

Your writing is really nice btw

-Florida Man

He would be absolutely thrilled, if not a little disappointed only because he wanted to be the one to confess. He had some gran gesture halfway planned out, but maybe he put it off too long.

He's very physical when you confess, but also very cautious. He hides his yandere side better than the other boys, so he doesn't want to overwhelm you with questions. This relationship is all about your comfort. He'll pick you up in a big hug and spin you around, then immediately ask you about sharing his bed, sharing clothes and setting boundaries.

He'd be glad to continue doing the same things he usually does with you, but now under the guise of a date. He's so happy to finally hold you and kiss you, it's enough to make him ignore the stiffy he's gotten. Almost.

You aren't going to be allowed to sleep on your bed on your side of the dorm. You are now permanently glued into his bed. He'll hold you and whisper out sweet things about how happy he is that you're finally dating.

"M' so fuckin' happy..."

"Guess you'll have to wear my jerseys at my games now. Heh, maybe I can wear something of yours for good luck?"

He's determined that since you 'stole' the confession from him, as he so often teases you about, that he's going to be one step ahead from now on. Anniversary? He's got a cozy booth at a local diner all picked out. He likes to keep it thoughtful, and you both used to go there after his games all the time. If your able to get your period, he's all hands on deck. Its... odd he always seems to know your cycle, but he explains it away as just a 'roommate' thing. It's not like he's tracking it or anything.

He'd be more protective, you being the one to ask him out surely means you want all of him, right? He's willing to get more rough with Evan, or report Pez for getting you all high and fuzzy. You'll still love him, won't you?

Since you've agreed to date him, he's thrilled to introduce you to his family, he's always been there golden boy and he wants more than anything for them to like you. The first school break after he met you, when he was back with his parents, he had lots of time to look at family photos and see his parents being domestic. That's when he made up his mind, when he got you to be his, or when you got him, he'd propose not long after. He'd wanted that family life with you, a white picket fence and a home. You practically shared a home anyways, your roommates! He plans to propose quickly, he's not gonna let you beat him to it. Besides, your father wouldn't be thrilled, his schools star athlete dating his only child, it's a match made in heaven.

It's past three in the morning, and Harris9n should be resting, but every moment he goes to close his eyes feels like a moment he wastes, considering he could be looking at your sweet, sleeping form curled up in his big arm. He adjusts his position to let you further press into his chest, and he lets out a shaky sigh as quietly as he can. "Love you..." he whispers. "You're gonna look so pretty on our wedding day, yeah? Dress or suit, I don't care. I think I'd just wanna see you in white." He rambles on throughout the night until you wake up, and his quickly apologizes for talking too much.

[gretavanlace]

Valtava

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, pain during sex (this is handled gently and lovingly) language, dirty talk, etc.

Everyone thank our dear @jake-kiszkas-smirk for the scene where his head is resting on her stomach. I’ll say no more to avoid spoiling it, but it’s delicious and it was her idea that she so kindly left in my hands. Thank you, you filthy genius, you. I love you madly. Also, I no longer remember who to credit for this pic of Josh, it’s been in my camera roll so long. But I couldn’t not use it for this…that’s dangerously close to sacrilege.

“This scene right here,” Josh speaks over Ray Liotta’s musings, one arm stretched across the back of his couch, the other bent to stroke his thumb along your jawline, absently “This is where Scorsese really stretches his wings. Here we are, watching the heinous discovery of murder after murder while Layla, a song about love and lust, lulls us. We feel both safe and shaky.”

His fingers now wind through your hair, relaxed and warm, with your head in his lap. “I think it serves as a reminder that even ugly can dip its toe into the waters of beautiful, if you squint hard enough.”

He pauses and talks over his own stream of thoughts, “Well, most ugly things, anyway. Someone saw these murders as a necessary evil. Something to ensure the world they had built for themselves, for their families, stayed clean. Someone went home and slept a little easier knowing there was one less heart beating out there ready to turn state's witness on them.”

You nod and hope for him to keep going. The way his mind works fascinates you, as does the unique lilt of his tone, and the excitement that sharpens his gaze when he is ruminating on something that really spins the wheel for the hamster in his brain.

Catering to your unspoken wish, he carries on, “And maybe even the victims were in on the method to the madness, y’know? They chose the life they chose, they understood how quickly loyalty and love can shape- shift into survival and self preservation. Layla helps the audience understand. It marries the beauty and the bloodshed for the people in the seats.” he shakes his head in wonder. “It’s fucking genius.”

“Thought your brother was the big Marty fan?” You ask, studying the perfect cupid's bow of his lips from below.

“Jake?” His eyes are on the screen, but his focus is on you. “Tarantino. I dig the use of his nickname, though. Marty. It makes it seem as if you have him over for dinner regularly.”

“Maybe I do.” You tease.

You earn a smile, but still not his gaze. “And what do you serve?”

Adopting a tone of nonchalance, you shrug, “Usually, we make love until dawn and then share cold spaghettiOs right out of the can.”

“Ah,” He nods seriously, “the opulence. It’s all very grand.”

A comfortable silence wraps itself around you both until you have a thought that pokes to be shared.

“Do you suppose Scorsese might have chosen Layla because of the double-edged sword it also happens to be as a piece? Since Clapton wrote it about his best friend's wife?” You feel a blush heat your cheeks, and immediately wish you hadn’t contributed. He knows so much about film and you know so little.

True to Joshua-form, however, he hushes your unease effortlessly. “Shit! I’d never even considered that. The beauty for Clapton was the ugly for Harrison. God, I’m so in love with the way your mind sees everything that’s invisible to mine.”

I’m so in love with…

He means the ideas in your head, the quiet corners of your thoughts, but it quickens your heart and nudges the butterflies in your stomach to life, nonetheless.

So, you pull yourself up, a thigh nestled on either side of his waist in the blink of a breath.

“Hi.” You long for the timid smile dancing shyly on your lips to morph into something sultry. Something sexy. Something that might flicker the darkened flame, that hides down deep in his belly, to life.”

“Hi.” He grins back, allowing you to wiggle around until you’re comfy in his lap. “If Goodfellas is boring you, I stand zero chance of keeping you entertained, baby love.”

Your fingers worry over the beads looped around his neck and then twist into the soft pink linen of his shirt, finally coming to rest at the button fastened nearest to his throat. Your eyes travel over him, hungry to soak him in. To tuck this image of Josh, so quietly content with you perched above him, away in your heart…a pretty picture to revisit when he inevitably becomes a memory.

What is he thinking? That question seems to occupy your mind more often than any other. He is an enigma. A mystery parading as wide open sunshine.

Intrusive thoughts, cruel and unrelenting, silently bully you. You’ve become quite adept at ignoring them over the years, opting for at least some semblance of normalcy in your quest for a happy, healthy life. Whatever that means.

But these thoughts in particular are cloaked in far too much truth…too many signs pointing to the worst being the obvious…to be easily disregarded.

You want to say these things to him. If only to bask in the assurance you might catch in his reply. But to risk the absence of said reassurance, is a feat too great.

Instead, you begin a tentative roll of your hips as you lean in close to meet his pillowy lips with your own. He tastes of mint, and the IPA he has been nursing, and Josh.

Like always, he indulges the kiss, but stills your hips, and you long to vanish into thin air, leaving nothing more than a coiling wisp of smoke in your wake. The rejection comes with a throbbing ache in your chest. Is your heart truly breaking? Now you’ll be forced to offer it to him in pieces.

And he isn’t the only one to indulge in old habits, because, also like always, you crawl into the safe embrace of humor. “You’re right, Joshua…you’re boring me. Back to the brilliant mind of Marty, my beloved.”

You slide off of him and stretch back out on the couch, focusing on the screen to hide your tear glossed eyes as he gets comfortable behind you.

“Scorsese, you bastard,” he shakes his fist in mock indignation, “how dare you steal the affections of my woman?”

A forced laugh comes out sounding a little too close to a sob. You play it off as best you can. Nothin’ to see here.

Alas, he catches it. And, of course, he won’t leave it alone, though you certainly ask him too.

“What is it, baby? What’s wrong?” He turns you toward him, hovering over you as you lie on your back and long to melt away. “Talk to me.”

“I just— I mean,” death seems of great comfort. “Is it me? Do you not… are you not… am I not pretty enough? Or sexy enough? Or… I don’t know,”

A frown of deep concern furrows his brow as his palms move to cup your face, “What? Are you not…Jesus, baby, of course you are. Fuck, if anything you’re too much. Too pretty, too sweet, too smart, too sexy.”

Your words come quiet and small, quivering with painful vulnerability “Then why?” You close your eyes, and thankfully, he allows you to hide this way.

Exactly what you knew would happen, happens. He lies without lying. “Why, what?” He sounds of feigned confusion. He knows what you mean.

Throat now constricted and pulsing with a wringing pain, you close your eyes tighter, unwilling to bear witness to whatever lie will follow his last. “Why don’t you want me?”

A tear breaches the dam you had hoped was impenetrable. You loathe and curse it.

“Hey, shhh…don’t do that. Don’t cry.” He brushes the tear away and then kisses over the path it took.

“Don’t cry?” You snap. A twinge of regret flares to life within you. You’ve never spoken to him unkindly, and could it be that there’s no going back? Perhaps this is it; the end of the road you’ve been heading inevitably for.

To your great surprise, he laughs. You crack an eyelid open to find it sincere. “So, she’s capable of something other than sugar, spice, and everything nice, after all.”

His hand smooths down your chest - can he feel the violent rattle of your heart as it thrums and beats out of control?

When at last he speaks, there is an edge to his tone you’ve never heard before. It warms you clear through to your curling toes “You think I don’t want you?”

You shrug, all pink cheeks and complete ineloquence.

“Well,” he soothes, drawing gentle patterns upon your temple and forehead, “you should know, that is far from the case.”

But, rather than take the moment further, as he so easily could, as you so desperately want him to, he sinks into an innocent position - resting his cheek on your stomach as you struggle to keep it from rising and falling too rapidly, his eyes, once more, on the screen.

The film drones on; mafia murders and cocaine swirling down flushed toilets. Betrayal and 20/20 hindsight…

…and on you watch, on the surface - in reality, you can think of nothing else other than the weight of his head on your stomach.

There is a dull ache there, inside you, gripping at every nerve ending all at once. He knows what you want, and he very obviously doesn’t want the same thing. He doesn’t want you.

He speaks first, and there’s too much truth in it. He knows you too well. “I need you to stop that.”

“Stop what?” You stupidly offer a tiny shrug, but for what? He isn’t even looking at you.

“Your walls, I can feel you stacking bricks. Stop, or I’ll take a wrecking ball to them.” he pets over your forearm comfortingly. It doesn’t help.

“Alright, Miley,” you toss the joke out like a life preserver for yourself. “Just don’t start licking sledgehammers and we’ll be alright.”

He gives you the softest laugh. It more closely resembles a sigh, “Is it only sledgehammers that you are opposed to me licking?”

Oh.

When he coolly pushes your shirt up and begins dragging his lips, licked slick and warm, around your belly button, you think you might burst into tiny, burning, longing, pieces. God, how you want him.

“You like that, baby love?” He speaks the words melodically into the room like a lullaby, hushed as a priest absolving you of your sins in a darkened confessional.

A whiny hum is all you seem capable of, but it doesn’t look like it matters much to him.

“Yeah?” He’s teasing now, and you think it might kill you. Your hips begin a barely perceptible rock in response. “Can I touch you, sweetheart? Do you want that?”

“Josh, please,” his name is less than a whisper. It’s a plea gasped into the dark, dancing with the flickering glow of the tv as it blinks and changes like lightning.

The warmth of his hand between them causes your thighs to twitch and tremble, but he hovers just above making actual contact. “God, look at you. How could you ever doubt how much I want you? So pretty. Can I touch you here, baby? My pretty, pretty girl.”

With a soft moan, you lift your hips, pressing into his palm. He doesn’t push for words, your body has given him all the consent he needs, and the want in your eyes reiterates.

His mouth is wandering your soft, flushed, stomach as he slides your pants away, gentle and sure, the tip of his tongue bridging the distance between his kisses.

Your hands weave down into his wild curls, comforted by the way they wrap themselves into your touch, spiraling around your fingers as you tug at them and tenderly scratch over his scalp. A particularly sweet drag brings a shiver to life on his shoulders. He groans in appreciation and runs away with another piece of your heart.

“Oh, fuck,” you murmur, surprised and grateful, when at last, he sinks a single finger into your warmth.

Should you at least have the decency to feel shy about the sound it makes? About the way you must be soaking his skin? Perhaps. But you don’t, and judging by the curse he secrets into the still of the night, there isn’t any reason to.

“Does that feel good?” He isn’t taunting you, it’s a genuine question, but there is a hint of a teasing tone there as well, peeking out from around the edges of his words and you think it might just be the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“So good.” You’re whining and writhing beneath him, tiny pouty huffs of breath tumbling off your lips over and over…but you don’t care about that either.

His finger slips out and you mourn it pitifully, until it swirls around your swollen clit, tearing a shaking cry out of your chest. And then, there it is again, filling you as his thumb begins a slick trail of tight circles just right.

“You want more?” Oh god…the way he sounds, the way you feel. He’s setting you further and further on fire with his gentle, decadent, prodding. With his breathy, gingerly obscene questions. Flames - scorching and crackling - lick up inside you. Incinerating as they consume.

“More?” He asks again, rasping the word, wantonly urging you on.

“Yes!” You nod frantically, spreading your legs further. You want him, need him, so badly…coveting the very breath in his lungs for its privilege of being inside him in a way you’ll never know. You long to trickle down into his pores and vanish.

A second finger - they feel longer than they have ever looked - joins the first and then begins a perfect, guiding, curl.

Tucking into that perfect place inside you, he fucks the pads of his fingers against it ever so carefully. Gently spinning your head in every direction.

He rests against your belly as the muscles inside churn and flex beneath his ear, watching intently as his hand fucks away at you. He wonders what it might be like to stretch you to almost breaking. How it would feel to push another finger inside, and then another, and another. When would you tell him to stop? Three? Four? Could you take that burning stretch? Would you relish it and ask for more? Fuck, he hopes so.

But you feel so tight around him…just two fingers full and you’re squeezing like you’ll never let go. He worries, and the pounding pulse of neglect that aches rhythmically in his cock, reminds him that he worries rightly so.

He has always believed you to be the most beautiful thing his eyes have ever had the pleasure of landing upon, but he’s never seen you like this - spread open, soaked and puffy with want. With need…for him. It doesn’t seem possible.

The way you move���fluidly, like ripples chasing over the surface of a placid lake, urging him along with your body. Your gorgeous cunt sucking his fingers in. A goddess, a beckoning siren, an angel…he can’t look away.

Can’t until he hears it, until he feels it, how close you are. Wild, frothing, horses couldn’t keep him from the gift of watching your face as you fall apart. An army of men wouldn’t stand a chance. He wants this moment with you, and he will have it. He wants to make you cum, and he wants to watch your eyes go blurry with it, and so watch he will.

“C’mon, baby…” he goes breathless when his face tilts up to meet yours. You are flushed and panting, lips parted. The soft pink of your tongue just barely visible, blushing like saltwater taffy in your mouth and he wants to lick against it, wants to taste you.

The smallest blips of a sound he can’t describe chase each other out of that beautiful mouth he wants to kiss so badly. Tiny uh’s that shift into gasps of desperation. You’re right there, and he wants it more than you do.

With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, he eases his chin into the softness just below your navel, creating a delicious pressure, and crooks his finger so perfectly, pressing and stroking until it feels like you’re floating and the only thing holding you in place is him.

It is celestial. He is every constellation and you are the astronomer, feet held to the ground by gravity, eye pressed against a telescopic lens hopefully, frantic for a glimpse of his wonder.

There is only Josh.

“Almost there, pretty girl,” he nods, gaze glossed with lust and something that looks like love. “You gonna give it to me?”

You are. You’re going to give it to him. You couldn’t stop it now if you tried. Fluttering walls trap him inside you as his stare fixes, unmoving and heated, with yours.

“That’s it, baby love, that’s it.” He urges you on, leads you deeper and deeper, those long, warm, perfect, fingers working you like he’s been there a thousand times before. “Shh, you’re alright. I’m right here, just breathe for me.”

That’s all it takes for you to realize your lungs are burning for a breath you’ve been unknowingly denying them - and with that hissing, hungry, gasp for air, you explode under him.

He watches, mezmorized, as your eyes roll back, teeth clenched like some ethereal, feral creature. It bursts out of you, clear and shimmering, like liquid diamonds, but you don’t know it yet, he can tell…you’re too far gone, and he fucking loves it. He fucking loves you.

He has said it aloud. I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much. I love you.

But that’s the thing that he doesn’t know yet because he’s also too far gone.

You’re quiet, gentle. Sweet, whining whimpers floating out of you as you vibrate and spill.

On your end, you hear the confession of how deeply his feelings run, but you don’t register…it will settle in later and you’ll weep for not saying it back. Though you don’t need to, he knows.

Once you’ve settled, he pushes up until you are eye to eye, lapping your release off his fingers. You’re sweet enough to lick off a whisk like cake batter, and he tells you so…but you can focus on nothing but the shining glint of you that he wears so well.

Shocked by the sheer amount, you blush hard and hot. Burning brighter still when it drips from his hand and lands on your lip. In an act you don’t seem aware of, you lick it away like a raindrop. The very sight of it, the somehow still innocent depravity, weakens him until he is forced to swallow a whine.

“Had I known what I was missing,” he grins lazily, “I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.”

The confusion sends you crashing back to reality.

“But why stop yourself at all?” Your eyes are so wide and clear. It makes him want to gather you up and keep you safe.

Once more, it crosses his mind that you’re an angel. He wonders where your wings have gone.

“Because, I—“ he falters, shaking his head as if he might rattle his thoughts into place. Finally, he opts to show, not tell, pressing his hips against yours so you can feel him.

And feel him, you do, but only for a moment. He’s so hard you’re cozy from the heat of it through the sweats he was lounging in when you arrived.

You’ve noticed. Of course you have. You’ve stolen a glance or two when he wasn’t looking. How could you not? You’d just always thought, and not to be crass, you’d always just assumed he was a shower, rather than a grower.

Now you aren’t so certain. He felt massive during the short amount of time he was rocking into you.

“You’re thinking very hard, baby love.” He smiles down at you. “Are those thoughts in my favor, or…?”

He trails off and awaits your answer with that Josh-like patience. Rather than speaking, you curl your hands around the waistband of his pants and then cast your eyes up, in silent question.

Nodding the go ahead, he continues watching you closely…studying your reaction as you tug him free.

“Oh, fuck,” the expletive sighs out of you as the tip of his cock - leaking, angry and swollen - slaps up, well above his belly button, with a solid thump.

He’s big. So big. Long and thick, beautifully shaped. Blushing pink at the head, and visibly pulsing under your awestruck scrutiny. You absently wonder how he isn’t light-headed for the amount of blood it must require to bring him to such full attention.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He explains softly, finally letting you in on the secret of why he’s been so skittish, “And I didn’t want to…”

His confession loses traction as he watches your mouth rather than meeting your gaze.

Your palms reach for him, cupping his angelic face with as much gentleness as the renewed desire racing through your veins will allow. “You didn’t want to what?”

While he searches for the words, you curl your thighs around him and pull him in, moaning out his name like a mantra when you feel him against you, skin to skin.

“God damn, baby…” he rocks his hips closer to yours and then remembers what he’s doing. “I didn’t want to scare you. And I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You tease, trying to lighten the heavy load of his anxiety.

“I know.” His mouth meets yours, searching out a slow, needful kiss. “But I kept imagining hurting you, and you being too sweet to say so. I’m still imagining it.”

Your tongue licks into his mouth as you wrap your fist around him. “Look at you, Josh,” you smile shyly through a kiss that is anything but shy. “My fingers don’t even touch.”

“Grew up under some power lines.” He teases, relaxing as he pecks along your jaw.

“I want you inside me.” You sound despondent, and feel just as forlorn, the look in his eye warns you may have a fight on your hands.

“Pretty girl,” he tucks himself away and begins kissing a slow, serpentine trail down your body after he flutters your shirt, indicating he wants it off. “I could barely get two fingers in your sweet little pussy. Why don’t you just let me kiss it? Don’t you want to cum on my tongue, hmm? Won’t that feel nice?”

Such filth is a captivating development, and one you like very much…but, you stop him all the same. Grabbing him by the hair with enough force to tilt his head back, pulling his mouth away from your straining nipple, you issue a demand you intend to make sure he fulfills, “I said, inside, Joshua.”

He raises an eyebrow and suppresses a grin of dirty glee. “Joshua?”

Ignoring him, you watch as he licks the pad of his thumb and then arch away from the cushion when he begins a steady, swirling journey over your clit with it. “Gonna make you cum first, love. Again and again. I’m gonna baby this gorgeous cunt until my name is the only word you want in your mouth…and then I want you to fill my mouth.”

“Jesus, Josh…” you’ve never wanted anything more, but you can hardly force the words out to convey just how fucking agreeable you are.

“You want that?” He flicks over you faster and faster, indulging in your pouty, needy cries, praying they never end. “You want to cum in my mouth? Feed me something sweet?”

~

“Easy, baby love,” he coos, whispering to you like you’re a tiny, broken bird, fallen from the nest and afraid. “You’ve got to relax a little more for me.”

“Yeah…” you nod, staring up at him as if he painted your entire world into existence. And maybe he did.

No longer able to count the number of orgasms he’s gifted you with, you feel like liquid silk. Or clay in his palm, happy to be molded to his liking.

“Yeah?” He drops a kiss onto your forehead and pushes in just a hint further, eyes darting up when you hiss with discomfort.

You offer a smile for him to continue and he returns it gently, but the way he’s fighting for breath betrays him. He wants you badly, he’s going slowly mad with the need to bury into your body to the hilt.

His fingertips skate a ticklish trail down the curve of your waist and then grip into your thigh, spreading you open a bit wider.

Both bare now completely to each other for the first time, you’ve given yourself over right there on the couch. The room is silent, save for hushed words and choked breaths twisting languidly through the air, the movie long since over.

He’d wanted to carry you off to the bedroom, but you refused.

You want him here. You want him now.

Palm cradling the back of your head, he brings you forward until your mouth is sucking at his shoulder. “Just like that, sweetheart. Good girl.” His praise flips your stomach. A violent somersault of carnal need. “You just suck and bite all you want. I’m gonna take care of you. You know that, don’t you?”

Nodding urgently against him, you’re far too interested in the marks you're leaving against his overheated skin.

“Words for me, okay?” He coaxes so gently it makes your chest ache.

“You’re going to take care of me.” You mumble through a long lick along his collarbone.

Without reply, he slides in deeper, yet still not much more than the tip rests inside you.

A shocked cry escapes you before you can stifle it and his face snaps up, searching your own for tells of pain that he doesn’t have to look all that closely for. “Baby,” the pet name sings out of him, a soft crooning apology. “Let’s stop, I…”

“No, please!’ The frantic want bubbling up inside you colors your voice and surprises you both, but he masks it well.

“Hush, love. No one’s stopping yet.” he soothes, massaging your hip carefully. Just wisps of touch, but you relax beneath it like a sleepy babe cradled up snug and safe.

You’re not fond of that ‘yet’ he tacked on to the end of his promise.

“Deeper.” Your hips lift, forcing his hand while you gulp down another sound of discomfort.

“Don’t.” His grip is suddenly digging into your waist, no longer careful, but swift and insistent instead. “Let me take my time. Let me be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s right, and you tell him as much as he begins a slow, stuttering journey. Starting and stopping as you writhe with impatience and uncomfortability in his capable hands.

Reaching up, he guides your fingers down until they brush over your sensitive clit. “You take care of this for me, okay, baby? Help me make this easier for my pretty girl…I can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

“Please, Josh…” you sound a mess, and who gives a damn? “Please!”

You’re right, it’s time. He knows it better than you do. He can wait no more. There isn’t far to go anyway.

Suddenly, with one firm thrust, he drives in all the way to the base, shuddering as you coil around him like a hot, wet, fist. Squeezing harder and tighter and fuck….

“So fucking tight.” He is trembling, fighting the urge to let go already. “It’s like you don’t want to let me go. Pussy so pretty and soft. Like the sweetest thing all dressed in pink. Aren’t you fucking gorgeous?”

Your eyes drift closed, breathing through the last remnants of the biting sting. You’re so full, it feels so good. So right. So completely perfect, you cannot begin to fathom how you’ve lived all these years without him inside you.

“Say it.” He sounds like an angel clawing his way closer and closer to something he can’t survive without any longer.

“What?”

“Tell me you’re gorgeous.” He’s fucking you faster now…and it stings, but it hurts so good you want to feel the burn forever. “Say you’re my beautiful girl. Come on, I wanna know that you know.”

“I—“ your face flares as pink as the cunt he’s currently locked inside

“That’s it, baby love…” he coaxes, pumping into you with long, torturous strokes. “C’mon,”

A little less tentative now - he effortlessly makes you believe - the words finally come “I’m gorgeous.”

He smiles so wide his nose crinkles as he nods and dips his lips to meet your own. “Fuck yes you are. My pretty girl. You’re doing so well, look at you. Just taking and taking and taking me.”

Pulling you up and away from the pillow gently, he guides your line of sight to the sinful image of him gliding in and out of you. His cock, glistening and covered in your unbridled desire - it catches the light and steals your heart. Is it possible to be in love with a cock? Or are you just in love with the man who wields it?

Both. Most definitely, both.

“Look, baby, look…” a quivering huff escapes him. “It’s like coming home. Being inside you is like coming fucking home.”

“Harder,” you beg, winded and lost. He feels so good inside you. Stretched further than you ever thought possible around him, you clench and twist a fist into the throw pillow beneath you until your fingernails threaten to rip it open.

“Just…fuck,” his pretty face buries itself in the crook of your neck with a whimper as he falters. “Just a little.”

The room is hazy and blurred, filled with sounds neither of you can seem to quiet. Each moan and breath filling your head up until you feel feverish. Every groan and gasp pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

Your bodies meet in a sweat glazed dance that causes your teeth to grit together - biting down hard to suppress a scream that he might confuse with pain.

He tucks his own teeth into your throat deeply, growling out a melodic sound that sets you on fire, when the salt of your skin hits his tongue.

A shaky, “I’m gonna cum, baby love…where, baby, where?” Pants out of him with a desperate urgency the moment he releases your skin from his bite.

“Inside…” you plead, clawing at his waist as your thighs lock him in close. “Cum inside me…c’mon. Please,”

“Pretty girl begging for my cum. Begging me to ruin this beautiful little cunt…” he sounds as if he’s talking to himself, like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re real.

“Ruin it, baby,” your palms drift up his back, slow and steady…urging him along gently. “Ruin me.”

A sound so exquisitely angelic rumbles up out of his chest. Deep and primal, but somehow gentle and submissive, like he wants to fall at your feet in veneration of something holy and ancient.

He falls against you, pulling you as close as he can get you, and then draws the scent of your hair in only to feel that much closer. Rocking into you as he slowly comes down and finds himself.

Gathering you in his arms, he lifts you away from the disheveled couch, ignoring you when you protest weakly that you can walk.

A bath is drawn and laced with plain epsom salt to soothe your throbbing muscles. He slips into the steaming water behind you, cradling you as he drags a washcloth over your skin.

Quiet verses of a song you’ve never heard are whispered in your ear as you drift into a light slumber without worry, confident that he will keep your head safe above water.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @thelvnternskeeper @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn

[delopsia]

The Little Things They Do When Dating You

Contains: ✰ Robert “Bob” Floyd, Rhett Abbott, Miles Miller, and Harrison Knott. Warnings: Food mentions. Miles is implied to be living in the present day. Don't bite me for it 😅 

✧˖° Robert “Bob” Floyd

♦ Associates you with a particular animal. If you don't already have a critter in mind, then he will not rest until he's assigned you one. Comes home from deployments with figurines, plushies and other things related to that animal ♦ Shamelessly makes puns just to get a rise out of you.

♦ Loves, loves, loves to settle down on the couch with you and read in silence together. Feet tangled under the same blanket, wrapped up in your own little stories. ♦ When he goes on deployments, he likes to do this thing where you read the same book series and discuss it when he comes back. Also likes to swap books! What you read while he was gone will be what he reads when he comes back, and vice versa 😊 ♦ Before he leaves, he writes you a series of letters and hides them in places that he knows will take you a while to find. It's his little way of loving on you, even while he's gone. ♦ Can't resist spoiling you every chance he gets. Sweet treats, jewelry, little things he caught you looking at while walking through town. If you want it, you've got it. ♦ Lays on top of you when he's trying to get you to slow down. Some days, you just forget how to take it easy, and this is the only way he knows how to calm your nerves. ♦ Has so many inside jokes with you. Conversations can very easily fall into secret code that nobody else can understand. ♦ Lays down on the couch and encourages you to lay on top of him while watching movies together. Sneaks his hand beneath your shirt and rubs invisible shapes into your skin. ♦ Is surprisingly clever when it comes to bickering with you. It's so hard to come up with something to say when he's got you laughing.

✧˖° Rhett Abbott

♦ Nuzzles your noses together when you cuddle. ♦ Isn't afraid to try the things you enjoy, regardless of how 'feminine' it might be. He wants to understand the feeling you get out of it. Lets you paint his nails, put makeup on him, pick his outfit for the day, put him in skirts. There was one instance where he asked you to teach him how to shave his legs because he wanted to know what it felt like. ♦ Quietly follows you around on your shopping trips, only speaking up when he sees something you're looking for or if he thinks you might like it. ♦ He's gone from not knowing how to share a bed at night to not being able to sleep without you. If you leave town, then he's pretty much guaranteed to sleep terribly. He can't help it. There's something so comforting about having you there with him. ♦ Hugs you from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder whenever you're standing somewhere. Concession lines, watching the rodeo, in the kitchen. ♦ Gave you one of his old buckles to wear because he'd heard you say that you wanted to match him. It's ridiculously large, but there's something about prancing around rodeos with an Abbott buckle that makes your heart flutter. ♦ Kisses and traces the indents that his buckle has left on your skin. ♦ Switched his workout routine because you love his chest and biceps. He hates taking pictures of himself, but he's gotten into a habit of taking the occasional photo that flatters his chest just to get a rise out of you. ♦ He doesn't know a damn thing about dancing, but he'll spin you 'round and 'round in front of his truck headlights or the refrigerator lights. ♦ Refuses to let you stay in those trashy motel rooms that he usually resigns himself to when he's traveling to rodeos alone. It might be okay for him but for you? He'll spend the extra dollar to make sure you're as comfortable as possible. ♦ Gets red in the ears when you show him off to your friends and family. He's never been with someone who was proud to call him theirs before, never mind introducing him to those they care about.

✧˖° Miles Miller

♦ He loooves to use emoticons. There's the occasional emoji, but it's primarily things like: ^-^ :D :) :v >.< ^w^ ♦ Cannot pick a good movie to save his life. Cute pet movie? The dog died in the end. Camping film? It was actually a horror. That movie with the snow on the cover? Surprise cannibalism! The romance film? The love interest died in the end. Please save him. ♦ Trips over his own words when he's trying to describe something he likes about you, or even when he's saying 'I love you' in general. He's got so many feelings, and he just doesn't know what to do with them all! ♦ His smaller, lanky stature often tricks you into forgetting how protective he can be. A guy tried to smack your ass once, and Miles had him by the wrist before the hit even landed. Puts himself between you and whoever is bothering you. Doesn't say a whole lot, but it's often enough to ward folks off. ♦ He traces your facial features when he thinks you're asleep. Most of the time, you've secretly been awake, fighting the urge to smile when it starts to tickle. ♦ Cries when you do big things for him. Once, you surprised him with a birthday party, and the poor thing was so happy that he burst into tears. It took him ten minutes to blow out the candles because he just kept sniffling. ♦ He keeps buying matching pairs of socks to wear together. His heart can't handle the idea of matching outfits, but socks? Socks are fun for him. If he catches you wearing a pair of yours, then he'll go and find his to wear, too. ♦ He thinks everything you've ever done is amazing. You can be folding laundry, and he'll be mesmerized. Tries to tell you as much, but he can hardly get the words out his mouth. ♦ Makes you desserts all the time. He's recently figured out how to bake, and he just can't resist bringing you little sweet treats. ♦ Talks about you in his sleep. Most of the time, it doesn't make any sense, but then you'll catch little murmurings of how pretty he thinks you are and how much he loved this one thing you did for him.

✧˖° Harrison Knott

♦ Loves to hold your hand. On the days when it's too hot for that, he likes to link your fingers instead ♦ Does not play around when it comes to you taking medication. You're finishing that prescription whether you still have flu symptoms or not! ♦ You can't pay him back for anything. You may think that you've gotten away with putting that $10 bill in his wallet, but you have yet to realize that he's already taken it out and put it on top of your fridge. ♦ Massages the tension from your shoulders whenever he notices you're stressed out, then settles between your legs and fucks you nice and slow, just for extra measure. ♦ Ever since he found out that you couldn't get enough of his body, he's doubled down on his workout and diet routines. Fitness has never taken a huge priority for him, but he's in love with the feeling of your eyes raking up and down his body, hands greedily squeezing at his muscles. ♦ Picks you up and carries you around the house because "what's the point of working out if I can't carry you whenever I feel like it?" ♦ Bounces his leg when you're sitting in his lap. ♦ Makes you custom playlists for every occasion and gets so smiley when you make one for him, too. ♦ Tricks you into looking at something that isn't there, then kisses your nose when you turn to look back at him. ♦ He loves to take you down to the beach but hardly pays attention to the scenery because he's too busy paying attention to you instead. If you call him out on staring, he'll just nod his head and confirm that it's exactly what he's doing.

[cheynovak]

When we were young - Part 3 

Ben (Soldier Boy) Harrison x F/Reader Y/N             

Contains/warnings: 18+, implied smut, angst, fluff, hurt, trauma, time jump, going crazy, mental issues, drugs/ alcohol abuse, ...   

Side note: English isn’t my first language      

Words:  6300

 Last chapter

*Does not follow the boys storyline – first 2 chapters set in a time period where Ben was not yet a supe. Since we don’t know his last name, I came up with Harrison for this story.*   

-- 

Y/N is a young girl who works with her mother as a maid in the household of Mr. Harrison and his son Ben. Since Ben was mostly in boarding school and Y/N till this summer in a normal school, they got to know each other very well.  

One summer everything changed when Ben confessed his love for Y/N right before leaving for the war. Leaving her alone, when he comes back feels like he doesn’t deserve him, afraid what she would say now that she is ‘soldier boy’ a man with many flaws.  

But when he hears she died of heartache, he feels responsible, his grief and pain hunts him in a form he can’t ignore... Y/N.  

--  

1973 

Ben leaned heavily against the bar, the combination of alcohol and something far stronger coursing through his veins. The party was in full swing around him, the opulent ballroom filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses.  

Women in glamorous dresses flocked around him, their eyes sparkling with the thrill of being near a living legend. He smirked, the familiar feeling of adoration washing over him, but tonight, it felt hollow.  

As he sipped his drink, a flash of movement caught his eye. He turned his head, scanning the crowd, and then he saw her. For a moment, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him.  

She stood in the shadows, her face partially obscured, but there was no mistaking it. It was Y/N, the woman he had lost so many years ago, looking exactly as she had in the 1940s.His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of hope and confusion.  

"No way," he muttered to himself. "She can't be..." He took a step forward, his focus narrowing solely on her. He was barely aware of the people around him, the music fading into the background.  

Each step felt like a mile, his breath hitching with each movement. She turned slightly, their eyes meet, and he was sure it was her. The same eyes, the same posture – it was impossible, and yet there she was.  

Just as he was about to reach her, a hand gripped his arm, pulling him back. He turned, his eyes wild, to find Crimson Countess standing there. Her expression supposed to be concern but felt cold.

"Ben, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the din of the party. "It's her" he mumbled, his voice rough. Crimson Countess shook her head gently. "Her? You've had a lot to drink, and God knows what else. You need to calm down, people are looking." 

He looked back over his shoulder, his heart sinking. The spot where Y/N had stood was now empty. "No," he breathed. "She was right there. I saw her." Countess tightened her grip on his arm. "Come on, Ben. Let's get you out of here. You're not going well on what you took tonight."  

Ben resisted, his eyes darting around the room, searching for any sign of her. But she was gone, as if she had never been there. The weight of the years pressed down on him, the alcohol and drugs no longer dulling the pain.  

The ache of loss and the cruel twist of fate left him feeling hollow. “Let's go," Countess said softly, guiding him away from the crowd. He allowed himself to be led, his mind spinning with what he had seen or thought he had seen.  

Y/N, was there. He was sure of it, he saw her. But now, as the party buzzed around him and Countess's steady presence kept him grounded, he couldn't help but wonder if it had all been a hallucination, a trick of his fractured mind.  

As they left the room, he cast one last look over his shoulder, hoping for another glimpse, another sign. But there was nothing. Only the memories of a love long gone, and the haunting image of a face from the past that refused to fade. 

-- 

1950 

Many years after the war ended, Ben finally returned home. The weight of his actions during the war hung heavily on him, and the thought of facing Y/N filled him with both hope and dread.  

He knew he had done things as Soldier Boy that made him afraid to return home. As he walked up the familiar path to his family's home, memories of Y/N flooded his mind. Her smile, her laughter, the way she had looked at him with such trust and love.  

He had promised to come back for her, and now he was finally here. Hoping she could forgive him. But the war had changed him, and he feared how she would see him now. He pushed open the front door, the creak of the hinges echoing in the empty cold hallway.  

His father emerged from the living room, the smell of alcohol preceding him. His face was red, eyes bloodshot, and there was an anger in his expression that Ben had grown used to but never fully accepted.  

"Well, look who's finally decided to come home," his father slurred, swaying slightly. "The big hero." Ben could see how much his father had aged and changed. "Dad, I..." Ben began, but his father cut him off.  

"Don't you 'Dad' me," he snapped. "You think you can just waltz back in here after what you've done? After leaving us all behind?" Ben swallowed hard, trying to keep his temper in check.  

"I came back to see Y/N..." His father's expression darkened, and he laughed bitterly. "Y/N? You came back for her? Well, you're pretty late, aren’t you boy!" Ben's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?" His father took a swig from the bottle he was holding and then pointed a shaking finger at Ben.  

"She waited for you. She waited and waited, hoping you'd come back. But you never did. And it broke her heart." A cold dread settled in Ben's stomach. "What... what do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  

"She got ill short after realisation you never wanted her." his father said, his tone shifting from anger to a bitter resignation. "She got ill from missing you so much. I thought it was like her mother, but...” He stopped to change his sentence.  

“I found her one morning, in your room. On your bed. She was gone." He looked his son in his eyes, not even now he won’t show Ben any emotions. Ben felt like the ground had opened up beneath him.  

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "No, that can't be true." His father nodded, "She was a fine woman. I asked her to marry me, you know. Thought I could give her a good life, take care of her. Give her stability.” 

“But she asked to wait for an answer until you were back home. Now I see she was just waiting for you to come back so she could run away." Ben stumbled back, the weight of his father's words crashing down on him.  

The image of Y/N, lying in his bed, waiting for him, crying, was too much to bear. He had waited to come home to her until he thought he was worthy, afraid to show her the addiction to drugs and alcohol, but knowing this... this was something else entirely.  

"I didn't know," he said, his voice cracking. "I didn't know she..." "Of course, you didn't," his father said, his tone harsh. "You were too busy being a hero, too busy to even write a letter... probably too busy covering yourself in cheap women.”  

He took another sip. “Well, now you know. And now you have to live with it." Ben turned and fled the house, the walls closing in on him. He ran down the street, the familiar sights of his hometown blurring as tears filled his eyes.  

He kept running until he reached the edge of town, where he collapsed on a grassy hill overlooking the fields he had once known so well. That night, the weight of his father's words still pressing heavily on his heart, Ben returned to the house.  

The quiet of the night offered a strange solace, the town asleep and unaware of the turmoil inside him. He moved silently, his steps barely a whisper on the old wooden floors. He had to see her room.  

He needed to feel close to her one last time, to understand her pain, and perhaps to find some fragment of the life she had lived while he was gone. He made his way to the back of the house, where her room had been.  

The door creaked as he pushed it open, and he stood there for a moment, letting the memories wash over him. The room was exactly as he remembered it, though dustier and more forlorn.  

He moved to her bed, the faint scent of her still lingered on the pillow, a bittersweet reminder of the woman he had lost. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to capture that last essence of her, to hold onto it like a lifeline. After a while, he sat up, his eyes scanning the room.  

A small trashcan in the corner caught his attention. He approached it and saw remnants of burned paper inside. Carefully, he sifted through the ashes, finding fragments of letters and notes, their edges singed and blackened.  

Among them, he recognized pieces of the book he had given her when they were kids. It had been a cherished gift, one they had read together countless times. His heart ached as he sifted through the remains, piecing together the love and memories they had shared. 

Then, at the bottom of the trashcan, he found something else a journal, its cover scorched but intact. He pulled it out, his hands trembling, and opened it. The diary was filled with Y/N's handwriting, pages upon pages of her thoughts, fears, and hopes. As he flipped through the pages.  

Tears streamed down his face as he read her words, her pain and love laid bare on the pages. She had never given up on him, even in her final moments. She had believed in him, loved him, and waited for him until she could wait no longer.  

Among the journal entries, he found one that stopped him cold. It was a letter she had written to him but had never sent. In it, she poured out her heart, telling him how much she loved him and how she had dreamed of the day he would come back.  

She spoke of her sorrow, her confusion, and her unwavering belief that he would return, on how his father had offered her stability in marriage but she rather have a life full of challenges with him. How she begged for him to write, at least letting her know he thought of her.  

He had to get out of there, to take these pieces of her with him. He couldn't leave her behind again. As he looked around the room one last time, he spotted something else, a robe draped over a chair. It was her robe, the one he had always joked about how ugly he thought it was.  

He remembered the way it had wrapped around her, somehow she could make it look beautiful. He took it, feeling the fabric between his fingers, the faint scent of her still clinging to it.  

With the journal and the robe in his arms, Ben slipped out of the house never to return again. 

-- 

1973

Ben woke up with the remnants of his dream or memory still lingering but now overshadowed by a strange, unsettling clarity. The room was dark, the only light coming from the dim glow of the city outside.  

He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the lingering haze of sleep, when he saw her again. Y/N was sitting in the corner of the room, her back to him, combing her hair in front of the mirror. The sight was so surreal, so impossibly real, that he felt his breath catch in his throat. 

He pushed himself up, elbows on his knees, staring at her. "Y/N?" he called out, his voice trembling. She didn't respond, just kept looking at him through the mirror, that enigmatic smile never wavering. Slowly, she put down the comb and turned to face him.  

He watched, mesmerized, as she walked across the room, her movements fluid and graceful. When she reached him, she didn't say a word. She climbed onto the bed, her weight sinking into the mattress beside him, and then onto his lap.  

Ben was mesmerised, his mind racing with disbelief and longing. "How?" he managed to say, his hands reaching out to touch her, to make sure she was real. His fingers brushed her cheek, her skin warm and soft beneath his touch.  

She remained silent, her eyes locked onto his, filled with a mixture of love and something he couldn't quite place. She raised a hand, gently touching his face, tracing the lines of his jaw and the rough stubble of his chin.  

"Y/N," he said again, his voice cracking. "I thought you were gone. How are you here?" Still, she didn't speak. Instead, she leaned in, pressing her forehead against his, her breath warm against his skin. He closed his eyes, the reality of her presence overwhelming him. The feel of her in his arms, the scent of her hair... it was all too real, too vivid to be a dream. 

For a moment, he let himself believe. He let himself be lost in the sensation of having her close, the years of pain and loss melting away. But as he opened his eyes, he saw something flicker in hers, something that reminded him of the fleeting glimpse he had caught at the party.  

"Are you... real?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. Her smile remained, but there was a sadness in her eyes, a sadness that spoke of truths he wasn't ready to face. She cupped his face in her hands, her touch tender and loving, and for a brief, heartbreaking moment, it felt like everything was right again.  

She leaned in and kissed him, her lips soft ambut cold against his. Ben felt a jolt of emotion course through him, a mix of longing, love, and sorrow. His hands moved instinctively to the small of her back, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.  

The sensation of her, the taste and feel of her, was so achingly familiar and yet tinged with the surreal. But as their kiss lingered, he felt a shiver run through her, a subtle tremor that hinted at the impermanence of this moment.  

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of desperation and hope. "How is this possible? How are you here?" She looked into his eyes, her gaze filled with a depth of emotion that he could barely comprehend.  

Her fingers gently stroked his cheek, and for a moment, he thought he saw a tear glistening in the corner of her eye. As she pulled away, she rested her head on his shoulder, her arms wrapping around him in a tender embrace. He held her close, his eyes closed, savouring the feeling of her against him.  

"Please," he murmured, his voice breaking. "Don't leave me again." But as he blinked, she began to fade, her form dissolving into the darkness. He reached out, trying to hold onto her, but she slipped through his fingers like mist. "No, no, no," he murmured, panic rising in his chest. "Don't go." 

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she pressed another kiss to his lips, softer this time, more lingering before she vanished.  

-- 

Later that day, Ben felt like a shadow of himself, the memory of Y/N's visit haunting him. He couldn't shake the image of her sadness, the unspoken words lingering in the air. He needed to know what had happened to her, needed to understand how she could appear to him now.  

The questions gnawed at him, eating away at his already fragile state. Driven by a desperate need for answers, Ben stormed into Vought International, his presence causing a ripple of unease among the employees.  

He demanded to see someone who could help, his voice rough and insistent. He wasn't leaving without answers. Within moments, he was ushered into a conference room where an executive awaited him, flanked by a couple of assistants.  

The executive, a middle-aged man with greying hair and a stern expression, greeted Ben with a mix of respect and apprehension. "Soldier Boy," he began, "what can we do for you today?"  

Ben wasted no time with pleasantries. "I need you to look into someone. Her name was Y/N Y/L/N. All I know is that she died somewhere between 1945 and 1950. I need to know if that's true, and... where she is buried." The executive exchanged a glance with his assistants, then nodded.  

"We'll get our team on it immediately. It might take some time to gather the information, but we'll find out what we can." Ben's jaw tightened. "Make it fast. I can't wait."

Hours later, Ben's phone on the nightstand rang, jarring him from his thoughts.  

He picked it up, half-expecting another vague update. Instead, the executive's voice sounded more urgent. "Soldier Boy, we've uncovered something unexpected. There are no official records indicating that Y/N ever died."  

Ben froze, his grip tightening around the phone. "What do you mean? My father told me she died." "Your father might have believed that, but our investigation shows no death certificate, no funeral records, nothing." 

A mix of confusion and hope surged through him. He hung up to phone.  

From that moment on, Ben started to spiral. The encounter with Y/N had left him raw and vulnerable, unable to shake the feeling that he was being haunted by her memory. Payback, his team, began to notice the changes in him.  

They heard him talking to himself, having one-sided conversations that made little sense to them. His behaviour grew more erratic, his temper shorter. One night, the emptiness inside him became too much to bear.  

He found himself in a lavish hotel suite, the remnants of a wild party scattered around him. A few girls lay sprawled across his bed, asleep or too intoxicated to notice him leave the room. He sneaked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.  

His reflection in the mirror was a stark reminder of how far he had fallen. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair dishevelled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag of cocaine.  

He poured some out onto the counter, forming neat lines with a credit card. He bent over, ready to numb the pain, to escape the haunting memories that plagued him. As he took a sniff, he felt a presence behind him.  

He looked up into the mirror and saw her. Y/N stood there, her expression a mix of sorrow and disappointment. "Is this the reason you didn't come home to me?" she asked, her voice soft but piercing. 

Ben froze, the mirror reflecting his horror. He turned slowly to face her, the bag of cocaine slipping from his fingers and scattering across the floor. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I... I..." She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his.  

"You promised you'd come back. You never came for me. Instead, you’re destroying yourself." Her words cut through him like a knife. "I did come back," he said, tears welling up in his eyes. "I looked for you. I tried..."  

She reached out, her touch cold and intangible, yet it sent a shiver down his spine. "You need to stop this, Ben. This isn't the boy I knew. This isn't who you promised to be." Ben sank to the floor, his back against the cold tile.  

"I don't know how to be that person anymore, it’s been so long." he admitted. Y/N knelt beside him, her gaze unwavering. He looked up at her, searching her eyes for the forgiveness he desperately needed.  

"I’m so sorry," he whispered. "You promised." She whispered with a sad smile. When he stood up, the bathroom was empty, and the cocaine was still scattered on the floor. A surge of anger boiled up inside him, a mix of frustration, guilt, and helplessness. He couldn't handle the whirlwind of emotions any longer.  

With a roar of rage, he swung his fist into the mirror, shattering it into a thousand pieces, only to fuel his fury. He stormed out of the bathroom, his eyes wild and unfocused.  

The girls on the bed woke up, startled by the noise. They saw Ben, his face contorted with anger, and panic set in. He started trashing the room, throwing furniture, tearing down curtains, and smashing anything within reach. The sound of breaking glass and splintering wood filled the air.  

"Get out!" he shouted, his voice a terrifying roar. "Get out, all of you!" The girls scrambled off the bed, fear etched on their faces. They grabbed their clothes, not daring to look back as they fled the room. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving Ben alone in the chaos he had created.  

He stood in the wreckage, his chest heaving, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away. The room was a disaster, a reflection of his inner turmoil. Broken glass and overturned furniture surrounded him, but the anger was starting to subside, leaving a hollow emptiness in its wake. Ben sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands.  

-- 

Ben kept seeing Y/N every now and then, mostly on moments or days he felt he had fucked up, even in Russia, in his dreams. The cold, sterile environment of his captivity was a constant reminder of his reality, but every time he closed his eyes, there she was.  

The hallucinations had become his only solace, a fleeting escape from the nightmare he was living. Today was no exception. As he drifted off, he found himself in a pitch-black room, the darkness punctuated only by the soft glow around Y/N.  

She sat on a bed, wearing the same nightgown she had worn the last night they spent together. The sight of her brought a pang of bittersweet nostalgia. He walked towards her, his eyes roaming her body, taking in every detail as if afraid she might vanish again.  

She rose gracefully, her movements slow and deliberate, and reached out to him. Her touch was cold, but familiar, a paradox he had come to accept.  

"Ben," she whispered, her voice like a soothing balm to his tormented soul. Without a word, she guided him towards the bed. He sat down, and she moved behind him, gently pulling him back until his head rested against her chest. Her hands stroked his hair, her touch tender and calming. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"Because you need me," she replied softly. "Don't you want me here?" He looked up at her. "Of course I do." The darkness a cocoon that held them in a moment outside of time. He could feel the rise and fall of her breath, the rhythm a comforting lullaby. The scent of her, faint and sweet, filled his senses. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking.  

"I'm sorry for everything. I should have been there for you." She hushed him, her fingers tracing soothing patterns on his scalp. "I know." He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of her presence wash over him.  

The guilt and regret that had haunted him for so long seemed to dissolve, replaced by a profound sense of acceptance. For the first time in years, he felt a flicker of hope. "Stay with me," he pleaded, his voice filled with longing.  

"I'm always with you," she replied, her voice a soothing balm in the oppressive darkness. "Please," he whispered, his voice tinged with desperation. "Stay a little longer, just like this." She kissed the top of his head, her lips soft and reassuring. Her hands moved to his chest, her touch comforting. It was a sensation he had longed for, a connection he had been deprived of for so many years. Making him breath out a deep breath.  

He leaned into her, savouring every moment. His hand moved over her thigh beside him, the familiar feel of her skin grounding him in this surreal experience. He closed his eyes, focusing on the rhythm of her breathing, the gentle rise and fall that seemed to sync with his own.  

"I miss you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I know," she replied, her fingers tracing gentle circles on his chest. "You need to find your strength, Ben. You need to keep fighting." Her words, though a comfort, carried an urgency he couldn't ignore.  

He knew she was right, that he had to keep going, had to survive. But in this moment, he allowed himself to sink into the comfort of her presence, to feel the love they once shared. "Just a little longer," he pleaded, his hand tightening around her thigh.  

She sighed softly. "I'll stay as long as you need me, if you promise me to fight." Ben looked up at her, his eyes tracing every detail of her face, the curve of her lips, the softness of her gaze, the way her hair framed her face. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time all over again, every feature etched into his memory with painful clarity.  

"I promise," he said, his voice resolute. "I promise I'll fight." A small, sad smile touched her lips. "That's all I needed to hear." Her hands moved to his chest again, the warmth of her touch spreading through him like a balm.  

He felt his own hand move gently over her thigh beside him. Her fingers moved over his chest to his shoulders, it triggered something deep within him, a surge of emotions and desires he had buried for so long. Unable to hold back, he turned around to face her fully. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of surprise and curiosity. He gazed into her eyes, his own reflecting a determination that had been absent for years. "Something I should have done a long time ago," he replied, his voice thick with emotion.  

"I love you, Y/N" Before she could respond, he pulled her beneath him, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the longing, regret, and love he had. But as the kiss deepened and the heat between them grew, he suddenly pulled back, breathing heavily.  

He laid back down beside her, resting his head on her chest, giving him a sense of peace he hadn't felt in years. Her presence, whether real or a figment of his imagination, was a comfort that eased the ache in his heart.  

As the dream began to dissolve, he felt her slipping away, her touch growing faint. He held onto the sensation as long as he could, etching it into his memory. "Remember," she whispered in his ear, her voice echoing in the void. "I'm always with you."  

He woke with a start, the cold, harsh reality of his cell closing in around him. But this time, he felt different. The lingering warmth of Y/N's touch and the echo of her words filled him with a renewed determination. He would survive this. He would find a way out. 

-- 

‘Present day’ 

Ben, Butcher, and Hughie walked purposefully towards Mindstorm's location, the tension palpable in the air. As they approached, Ben's senses sharpened, and he heard a faint whisper, causing him to stop abruptly.  "Ben..."

"What did you say?" Ben asked, his voice low and serious, his eyes scanning the surroundings. Butcher glanced at him, puzzled. "Nothing, mate. No one said anything," he replied gruffly, exchanging a glance with Hughie, who shook his head in confusion. Ben frowned but shook off the strange sensation, focusing on the task at hand.  

They reached Mindstorm's hideout, and Hughie swiftly executed the plan to transport him out. In the midst of the chaos, but his plan didn’t work out.  

Ben acted with deadly precision, throwing a knife that found its mark in Mindstorm's eye. As Mindstorm lay incapacitated, Ben approached him, his features hardened with resolve. He pulled a bag over Mindstorm's head and knelt beside him, his voice low and menacing. 

"Who gave you the order?" Ben demanded, his tone laced with barely restrained anger. Mindstorm whimpered, blood oozing from his injured eye. "Please, don't kill me. I'll tell you about her...," he pleaded, his voice trembling.  

Mindstorm swallowed hard. "She's alive... Y/N" he gasped. "Vought found her in the '70s, after you asked them to find her. They... they kept her. She's a supe now." Ben's heart pounded in his chest, conflicting emotions swirling within him, hope, disbelief, anger.  

"You're lying," he growled, but a flicker of doubt clouded his mind. "I swear, she's alive," Mindstorm insisted, desperation colouring his words. "I can tell you where to find her." Ben hesitated, his mind grappling with conflicting emotions as Mindstorm pleaded for his life and claimed Y/N's existence.  

Despite his scepticism, a glimmer of hope flickered within him, a chance, however small, that she might truly be alive. "Tell me," Ben demanded, his voice strained with both desperation and suspicion. "Tell me everything you know about her."  

Mindstorm, sensing the gravity of the moment, began to speak, his words shaky but earnest. He recounted how Vought had discovered Y/N in the 1970s, how they had kept her hidden away, experimenting on her until her powers emerged stronger. He described her as a formidable supe now, with abilities beyond comprehension.  

Ben listened intently, each word piercing through the layers of doubt that clouded his mind. A surge of conflicting emotions washed over him, relief, anger, betrayal. His fists clenched, and without warning, he lashed out, hitting Mindstorm's shielded face over and over again. 

"You bastard," Ben growled between each strike, his rage unleashed. "You kept her from me. You let me believe she was dead." Mindstorm cried out in pain, the sound muffled by the shield, but Ben's onslaught didn't cease. Each blow was fuelled by years of grief, of searching in vain, of the agony of loss. 

He stood there, the aftermath of his actions weighing heavily on his conscience. The lifeless body of Mindstorm lay at his feet, a stark reminder of the darkness he had succumbed to in his quest for answers. As he stared down at the scene before him, a voice cut through the silence.  

"Really, Ben? Was that necessary?" The voice was achingly familiar, and Ben's heart skipped a beat. Slowly, he turned around, his eyes meeting hers, Y/N's. She stood a few feet away, her expression a mix of concern and disbelief. 

He walked away past Butcher and Hughie. Y/N followed him, once the men couldn't hear him. "Ben," she said softly, her voice filled with a mixture of emotions he couldn't quite decipher. "What happened here?" Ben tore his gaze away from her, his jaw tight with conflicting emotions.  

"I... had to," he muttered, struggling to find the right words. "He knew something... about you." Y/N's eyes widened slightly, her hand reaching out tentatively towards him. "Ben, what are you talking about? Who was he?" He shook his head, unable to meet her gaze. "It doesn't matter now," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  

"What matters is finding you." 

---

Ben found out Y/N didn't die, his father lied, He had thrown our of his house after she didn't accept his marriage proposition. When on the street she volunteered for another one of vought supe trails.

After what seemed a failure, she discovered her power only years later. Her mind started to work in mysterious ways. She started to hear people's thoughts, move objects with her mind and if she concentrated long and hard enough she could project her mind into other spaces or peoples memories.

In the 1970s vought found her and captured her, after numerous trails and tests they considered her even more powerful than mindstorm, he was asked to help with the tests on her. But even he couldn't get a look inside her mind, losing his shit when she started to play tricks on him instead.

To keep her under control they decided to keep her locked up and in a coma, but even unconsciously she found a way back to Ben.

Ben eventually found her, in a cell beneath Godolkin University. Even though he busted her out she had been in and out the coma for the past few days. She didn't contacted him anymore since then.

Until

--

The bright light hurts my eyes when I woke up. As I tried to focus on my surroundings I saw a figuer hovering over me. A vague sound ringing in my ear. After a few seconds his face became clear.

There he was... Ben. His green eyes haven't changed a bit. His face was framed with a beard I, he looked mature, nothing like the young boy that left for the war. No, Ben had changed into a handsom man. I couldn't help but to smile when I saw him.

Even though he caused me a lot of pain I was glad he finally found me. Like I had been trying to do for the last few decades. My hand instinctively grabs his cheek, to make sure my head wasn't playing tricks on me. "Hi sweetheart." He whispered. "Hi." is mouthed.

He helped me up, I was still a little wobbly on my legs. No idea how long they kept me a sleep. I looked outside, seeing how the world had changed, I felt scared, unsure and worried. But it all disappeared the second I felt his strong arms around my waist.

With his chin softly on my shoulder he whispered "You'll get used to it. I takes time." The corner of my lip lifted softly. I looked over at him, and before I could ask him he spoke. "I did came back, too late, but I didn't forget about you." Tears welled up in my eyes.

"You should know." He continued. "I haven't been the man you wanted me to be... I made mistakes, a lot of mistakes. I fought, cheated, even murdered..." He took a deep breath. My arm moved back so my fingers could finds its way to his long hair. "I know." I said softly.

I saw his confused look. "I was there, you couldn't always see me. But I saw Ben." I looked at him, a single tear rolled down my cheek. "I didn't know... didn't know you were still alive." He said his thumb moved over my face. "It's ok, I forgive you... for anything you want me to. And I'm here now."

He smiled softly "Do you... Do you still want me?" I let out a soft giggle and turned fully around to face him. My hands helds his face before moving back over to his hair. "Ben, you read my journal, I saw it." His cheeks turned a shade of pink. "What part of, I'll always love him, don't you understand?"

My hands moved from his hair to his neck, pulling him closer, finally tasting his perfect lips again, desperately holding back a soft moan. He smiled when we broke apart. "So, what now?" I locked my eyes with his. "Now I want to do, what I wanted to do for a very, very long time."

"And that is?" He asked with a mischievous smile. I close the space between us, but didn't quite kiss him yet. "I want to make love to you and fall asleep in your arms, every night, from now on."

--

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[toasttt11]

additions

July 31, 2005

“Hay Hay!” Harrison called towards the stairs where Hayden was downstairs in the basement shooting pucks, “Come here please!” Harrison gently yelled so his daughter could hear him through the house.

“Coming!” A four year old Hayden yelled back from the basement, pouting slighty as she had to set her stick down and ran up the stairs seeing her Dad waiting for her.

Harrison smiled seeing his precious girl and picked her up spinning her around kissing her cheek rapidly making her giggle loudly.

Madison walked down the stairs seeing her loves laughing together, she smiled contently as she watched them, “Alright Har, put her down before she gets sick.” Maddison playfully chided her husband seeing her husband spin there daughter around multiple times.

“Mama!” Hayden beamed and the second her father let her down she ran right over to her mother making Madison pick her up.

“Hello Hayden Lee.” Madison hummed happily pressing a kiss to her daughter’s messy blonde hair.

“Come my darlings we have to meet the new neighbors.” Maddison softly spoke to her husband and daughter, they had saw a new family moving in next door to them and Maddison wanted to introduce themselves.

Hayden was set down and she grabbed onto her mother’s hand.

The family of three walked out of the house and over to the house next to them seeing the family standing outside the house, the family seemed to have three young boys and their parents.

“Hello.” Maddison kindly called out to their new neighbors, she was smiling kindly at the family.

“Hi!” The woman beamed walking over to shake Maddison and Harrison’s hands, “I’m Ellen and this is my husband Jim. And these are our three boys-”Ellen was interrupted by whom seemed to be the middle boy.

“OH MY GOSH!” The boy yelled looking at Harrison with starry eyes, “Your Harrison Blake! You won three stanley cups with the Edmonton Oilers and got the most goals ever scored in a playoff series and-“ The boy contained to ramble off facts making Harrison smile fondly.

Jim and Ellen shared a fond exasperated look because of their four year old, who is absolutely obsessed with Harrison Blake, who happened to now be their neighbor.

“That’s Jack. Sorry he gets excited.” Ellen fondly shook her head running a hand over Jack’s hair trying to calm him down.

“No worries it was very cool.” Harrison kindly reassured Ellen and Jim truthfully not minding at all and is quite use to that reaction meeting fan, kids especially, he playfully winked at Jack making him giggle.

Ellen smiled looking relieved and grateful, “This is Quinn our eldest and Luke our youngest.” Luke looked very young and seemed to just be walking and Quinn was very quiet and seemed content to watch.

“Do you play Hockey!” Hayden blurted out, she had been trying to not ask since Jack started rambling but she couldn’t wait no longer.

“I do!” Jack beamed looking excited, “Do you?” Jack looked at her like her answer would he the reason if they became friends or not.

“Of course i do!” Hayden scoffed looking offended it was even a question.

Hayden and Jack shared a look knowing immediately they were best friends now.

“Come on we can shoot pucks in the basement.” Hayden told Jack after looking at her mother for approval. Maddison smiled softly looking happy her daughter is making friends, especially since they have only moved to Toronto a few months ago after Harrison retired.

“Well what are we waiting for!” Jack beamed giddily and darted towards her house.

“You’ll come to?” Hayden asked softly looking at Quinn with her eyes wide and pleadingly, Any resolve Quinn might’ve had quickly crumbled from her puppy eyes, something that will become a regular occurrence from now on.

Quinn nodded. “Perfect!” Hayden beamed glad she is going to get another friend and leaned down to Luke’s level holding out her hand to the very young child.

Little Luke beamed and grabbed her hand holding it tightly with his little hands as she linked arms with Quinn and led the two towards her house seeing Jack waiting for them.

“And that’s our Hayden.” Maddison let out a fond laugh once the kids all walked away after Hayden managed to get all of them to join and she introduced her daughter to their new neighbors.

Ellen and Jim shared a look very suprise at how easily Hayden was able to win over all three of their boys hearts especially with Quinn not liking many people and Luke just grumbles at most people he meets.

Ellen had a feeling the Blake’s especially Hayden were going to be very special and important to their family.

“Do you play hockey too Quinny?” Hayden softly but curiously asked as she walked with Quinn and Luke to Jack.

Quinn blinked in suprised from the nickname she has already given him, “I do.” Quinn answered quietly still a little confused why he is so comfortable around this little girl already.

“What about you Lukey? Do you like hockey?” Hayden softly asked little Luke.

Luke looked up at Hayden with a beaming smile and clapped his hands, “Hockey.”

Hayden giggled at Luke’s answer as Quinn smiled.

“Finally!” Jack dramatically exclaimed from where he was sitting on the front porch of the Blake’s house, waiting for his new best friend, who had also brought his two brothers.

“Come on silly.” Hayden teased Jack softly as she opened the door to her house leading the three boys inside and to the stairs that lead to her basement.

“Woah!” Jack mumbled in awe as he looked around her shooting room, it was like a mini hockey rink, it was so awesome.

Hayden just shrugged as her dad had designed the hockey room and he uses it just as much as she does.

Hayden handed Quinn and Jack both a hockey stick that was roughly around their size and then she grabbed one of her mini sticks to Luke, who looked more content to try and chew on the stick.

It was the first of many times the four were together in the Blake’s hockey room, the room became the spot that all four of them would always goes to and if any of the parents would try and find any of them it was not surprising to find them there.

[sheepiemc]

Seven Stupid Reasons to Summon a Demon

Reason #2: drunk and can’t get home

CW: implied alcohol use (MC is drunk)

You’re on an empty street.

You don’t know what time it is but last time you checked it was definitely after midnight.

You concentrate and think and wonder what it is that you're supposed to be thinking about. It was definitely something important… you pat your pockets to look for clues, there's gotta be a reason you were thinking so hard in the first place.

You pull out your phone from its secret safe spot and check it for messages. Nope, just blackness. No juice… Juice… Blame it on my juice… Your eyes wander from your dead phone to the myriad of stamps and fluorescent paper wristbands decorating your forearms. The neon clashes with your outfit but the colors make you happy. Blame it, blame it on my juice! The song continues playing in your head and you start to dance.

Your feet throb with pain and all you know is you have to sit down right now. Normally you wouldn't dare to sit on a dirty street curb but your legs almost give out from under you before you can even think twice about where you are planting your ass. Ah, that feels so much better… but the sudden change in altitude makes your head spin. You put your head between your knees to steady the world.

You take a deep breath and hold it…

1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7…

Why are you counting again?

Your lungs burn and you remember to breathe. You start to giggle uncontrollably. What kind of idiot forgets how to breathe? You look back down at your phone and something sparkly catches your attention.

It's the Harrison Porter keychain Mammon gave you. It's too big to be a phone Keychain but it's something you like to keep on you at all times. You absent-mindedly spin the keychain and watch it dangle from your phone. Your favorite idiot probably doesn't forget how to breathe… Do demons even need to breathe? They're so fucking weird already it wouldn't surprise you.

You keep giggling, shoulders bouncing, when a warm gold light washes the floor beneath your feet. You would've noticed it if your eyes weren't closed with how hard you were laughing.

A startled noise interrupts your thoughts and you look up to find your favorite idiot, standing right in front of you, with a worried look hiding behind yellow tinted glass.

You gasp and clumsily shoot to your feet, ignoring the throbbing protest of pain, and throw your arms around the demon, "Mammoney!!" If you didn't have his neck in a vice grip, you might've noticed his face reddening at the silly nickname.

"M- MC… were you just crying?" He asks warily. You can hear the concern in his voice.

You loosen your arms - but don't remove them from around his neck - and look at him. When your eyes meet his searching ones, you cock your head to the side and blink a couple of times. The gesture reminds Mammon of a dog trying to understand English. You touch a hand to your face to feel if any stray tears were rolling down but you catch nothing.

You return your hand back around Mammon’s neck and shake your head slightly, "I don't think so?"

"B- but you were sitting on the curb… a- and you were shaking?"

You turn your head to look over your shoulder and back down to where you were sitting. You take a moment to think about what you were doing just a moment ago.

"Hmmm…" You think audibly.

"Well, if you weren't cryin’ then what did ya summon me for?"

You turn your head back around to look at Mammon… What did you summon him for?

"And why are you in the middle of a street all alone?? What time is it?!"

"Ugh, so many questions…" you close your eyes and plant your forehead against his chest.

Time… time… You can check the time on your… phone! You pop your head up and check your phone!

Oh right… it's dead.

You show Mammon your blank phone. He grabs your wrist and inspects the stamps and bands.

"Wha- MC… are you drunk??"

"Whaaat? Pshhh, noooo I'm having fuuun…" you slide your arms from behind his neck and down his arms. You grab his hands and start swinging them. "The night is still young! Now that you are here, the party is just getting started!"

You let go of him and spin out into the empty street, dancing to music only you can hear. If your inebriated mind were paying any attention, you might’ve heard mammon whisper, "That explains it…" under his breath.

"Okay,” he says, louder so you know he’s talking to you, “maybe you can answer this: shouldn't you be out with friends? Where are they?"

You stop dancing and squint at Mammon.

"Friends? Some friends! They ditched me!" You fold your arms and pout at the memory just now surfacing.

You're new at work and you really wanted to make new friends. You overheard some co-worker’s plans to go clubbing this weekend and were excited by how fun it sounded. You asked if you could come along and they agreed politely, though with the way they were acting all night you really wish they had just said no from the jump.

"I was basically a third wheel until I was a fifth wheel, then I lost them in the third club…"

You feel an angry warmth radiating off Mammon as he practically snarls, "Those jerks… What if something happened to you out here?" You calmly approach and wrap yourself around his tense arms.

"Don't worry about that, now I have you to protect me, Mammoney." You press your cheek against his bicep and you can feel him tense again before he relaxes. You look up to him and see that cute dusting of red across his cheeks before he looks pointedly away from you.

You entwine both of your hands with one of his and pull him, "C'mon… let's go have some fun!!"

Mammon looks back at you, redness fading, and searches your face for something. You tug harder, letting practically your full body weight fall to the earth, with Mammon being the only thing keeping you from hitting the ground. You try to take another step back when a sharp pain prevents you from going any further.

You cry out and Mammon quickly pulls you into him. He fully supports you with a hand against your lower back. You look down at your feet. Man, they hurt. You let out a small whine and Mammon sighs.

"As much as I would love to go out with you right now,” he says, reluctantly, “I think it's time for you to head home…"

"But I wanna partyyyy," you look up at him and whine again.

"You can't even stand up on your own."

"SO true bestie…" You slump against him, cheek pressing to his chest. You hear mammon softly chuckle and mutter, "I'm supposed to be the irresponsible one here." He lightly pushes you off him so he can shift around with his back facing you.

"Alright, let's go."

You sway on your feet and cross your arms in protest. "BUT I'm too heavy!" He looks back at you from over his shoulder, grinning wolfishly.

"Need I remind you, you are talkin’ to THE great Mammon, second -most POWERFUL Avatar of Sin in the Devildom! And you ain’t nothing but a puny human." He crouches down so you can climb on his back much easier. "Now, c'mon! We gotta get you to a bed… and some water probably. When's the last time you had water, huh?"

You drape your arms over his shoulders and wrap your legs around his waist. He stands up, lifting you with no effort at all. You tighten your arms around his neck and close your eyes. Comfy…

Mammon chuckles. Oops, did you say that out loud?

"Alright, human, where are we headin'?" He says with so much affection, your heart swells.

Until you process what he says and remember you have no idea where you are or where that is in relation to where you live. Your eyes shoot open.

"UHHHH…"

"Whaddaya mean 'UHHHH'??"

"WELL! I UBERPOOLED HERE! And My phone is dead!! You know how bad I am at directions!!"

Mammon sighs in frustration. "How the hell are we supposed to get you home…?" He asks, more to himself than you.

"Well! Can't you do some Devildom magic and just whoosh us right over there or something??" You reply indignantly.

"Ya know teleportation magic is kinda a big deal right? And even if I could right now, I don’t even know where ya live!"

You blow raspberries, deep in thought. You didn't even know your address that well because you had just recently moved. Curse your shoddy memory!

Mammon sighs again and starts walking, which startles you out of thought. "Woah, what-"

Before you can finish, Mammon interrupts, saying "Might as well pick a direction and start walking. Beats standing around doing nothing."

"Wait, wait, wait…" you bring a hand to your forehead and start rubbing, activating the memory juices. Maybe there's something Solomon taught that you could use?

"Oh! Let me try something!" You stick out the hand that wears the ring of light and concentrate on home.

"MC… what are you doing?" Mammon asks.

"Shut up, I need to concentrate. Trust me, I saw it in a movie once."

"Movies ain't very realistic, MC."

You close your eyes and ignore him and think think think: about home, where you're most comfortable, where you can be your true self and not have to hide any facets of yourself.

You open your eyes and are actually surprised when you see a red line shooting out of your ring… and pointed directly behind you!

You laugh triumphantly! "SEE! It worked!"

Mammon looks impressed for a second before rolling his eyes dramatically and turning around, "Well, ya got lucky this time but don't expect things to work out the way you want them to just because you want them to."

You pshh him dismissively before noticing that as he turns around, so too does the line pointing home.

"Uhh…" you move your hand around and notice that no matter where you move, it always points to where you're standing.

"Hold on, lemme down." You let go of Mammon as he crouches to let you off his back. You take a step back from him and realize what the line is pointing at.

You slowly circle Mammon and start grinning like a fool when you step out in front of him, holding out the hand with the ring. The thin red line points directly to the center of Mammon’s chest. His eyes widen as they trace the line to his chest and his eyebrows attempt to leave his face altogether. He looks back up at you and the red on his cheeks spreads all across his face, down his neck and to the tips of his ears.

“MC what-” he sputters.

You burst out laughing and quickly cover your mouth. “Oh that’s so cheesy, I love it!” You just can’t help the giggles that escape.

Mammon scoffs and looks to the side, attempting to hide his blushing face behind his hand. You run up to him and wrap your arms around his middle and rest your cheek on his chest.

You close your eyes.

You can hear his heart thumping.

“You’re my home, Mammon.”

“I mean- of course, I am. I’m THE-”

You shush him, “Nooo, nope, don’t say it- let me savor this moment before you ruin it.”

Mammon chuckles softly and wraps his arm around you. He clears his throat and says, “As cute as that was, it doesn’t get us any closer to getting you to your… apartment or whatever.”

Your eyes shoot open again.

“Oh yeah,” You pull out of his embrace just enough to look down at the ring on your hand. “Maybe home was too vague… I guess the ring in the movie also pointed to a person rather than a place.”

You think apartment? But the ring doesn’t point away from Mammon. Hmmm… bed? Still nothing.

“OH!” you say out loud, “what about my sweet little boy, my prince??”

Mammon looks at you incredulously. “Who???”

“My cat!!”

Right before you close your eyes to concentrate, you see the relief in Mammon’s face as he quietly says, “Oh…”

You picture his fuzzy face in your mind, his cute whiskers, his soft paws. “Hey, it’s workin’!” Mammon says as the line starts to twitch. As you get more excited about seeing your little bean, the thin red line gets stronger.

“Alright, let’s goooooo!” Mammon picks you up bridal style and takes off running. You shriek and laugh, holding onto his neck and shoulders for dear life, knowing he would never let you fall.

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐎𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐭

Parings → Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings → none

Summary → Your first time going to set with Tom and meeting his friends.

The makeup room was filled with the soft hum of activity as you sat in a chair, watching Tom annoy Rachel for the millionth time. You smile to yourself, she's the only person you know here. It was your first time joining him on set, and Tom and Harrison had hyped you up endlessly, saying you'd get along with everyone. Still, the nervous butterflies in your stomach hadn’t quite settled.

Rachel noticed your anxious energy and gave you a kind smile as she brushed powder across Tom's face. "Don’t worry, hun, everyone’s going to love you. Besides, if you survive this idiot’s teasing, you can handle anything," she teased, nudging Tom with her elbow.

Tom, dressed in his Peter Parker outfit, grinned mischievously at Rachel. "Oi, I’m a delight, you know that."

Rachel rolled her eyes dramatically, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. "Sure, Holland. Now stop moving, or I’m going to make Peter look like he spent the night in a dumpster."

You giggled, watching the exchange. Tom’s eyes lit up at the sound of your laughter, and he winked at you in the mirror. "Well, look at that, it’s Peter Parker," he said in a mock-serious tone, puffing out his chest as if he were about to save the day.

You shook your head, biting your lip to stop a laugh. "More like Peter Dorker."

Tom gasped, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. "Wow, babe. Betrayal, right here. Rachel, back me up."

Rachel smirked. "Sorry, Tom. She’s got a point."

He pouted, spinning around in the chair. "I knew bringing you here would be a mistake. You’re all conspiring against me."

You smiled softly. Being here with him made your nerves simmer down, but there was still a lot ahead—meeting his friends, the ones he had talked so much about.

After a bit more back-and-forth banter, Tom’s scene was about to start filming, so you followed him to the set with Harrison. The set was buzzing with activity, and Tom jogged off to prepare while you sat down with Haz, watching him from afar.

Harrison leaned over, nudging you. "Relax, Y/n. You’re gonna be fine. They’re super chill."

"I’m not nervous," you muttered, though your fidgeting hands gave you away.

Harrison gave you a knowing look. "Sure, sure. You know you don’t have to impress anyone, right? They’ll love you. Especially after all the stuff Tom’s said about you."

Before you could respond, you saw two figures walking toward you. It was Zendaya and Jacob, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Hey, Haz!" Zendaya greeted, flashing him a bright smile. Then her gaze shifted to you, and she grinned wider. "And you must be the famous Y/n!"

Jacob grinned too. "Yeah, Tom doesn’t shut up about you."

Your eyes widened, and a flush of embarrassment crept up your cheeks. "H-He doesn’t?"

Harrison snickered, jumping in before you could say more. "Guys, this is Y/n, my best friend and unfortunately also Tom’s girlfriend."

You rolled your eyes and waved shyly, your voice coming out quieter than you wanted. "Hey."

Zendaya shot you a warm smile, stepping closer. "Don’t worry, we’ve heard all good things. You don’t have to be nervous or anything. We don’t bite—except maybe Tom," she teased, earning a chuckle from Jacob.

You shook your head quickly, trying to appear more relaxed. "I’m not nervous."

"Sure, sure," Zendaya said, mimicking Harrison’s earlier words. "But seriously, it’s cool you’re here. We’ve been wanting to meet the girl Tom’s always talking about."

You were about to respond when you saw Tom jogging back toward you, slightly out of breath. "Hey!" He panted, grinning at everyone.

Jacob raised an eyebrow at him. "Hello, Thomas. You could have at least introduced your girlfriend to us before running off."

Tom’s eyes widened slightly, as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. "Oh, yeah! Right. Uh, well, guys, this is Y/n, my lovely girlfriend."

Without missing a beat, Tom wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on top of your head. You felt yourself instantly relax in his embrace, though your face flushed from all the attention.

Zendaya raised an eyebrow, smirking playfully. "Aw, look at that. Peter Parker and his girlfriend. You guys are cute."

Jacob grinned too. "I don’t know how you put up with him, honestly. It must be exhausting."

You laughed softly, leaning back into Tom’s chest. "Oh, you have no idea."

Tom chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hair. "Hey, I’m a joy to be around, right, babe?"

You rolled your eyes but smiled up at him. "Sure, love."

Harrison snorted from beside you. "See, I told you guys. She’s great."

Zendaya crossed her arms, her smirk widening. "I like her already. We’ll get along just fine."

Tom squeezed you tighter, grinning ear to ear. "Told you, darling. You’re gonna fit right in."

As the conversation flowed, you could feel the warmth of everyone around you, and slowly, the nervousness began to melt away. Maybe Tom and Harrison were right—this was going to be a great experience after all.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

[bradshawssugarbaby]

I'd like to request Bob and 🍋 please and thank you 🤭💛

Congrats on your first 500 💛

hi anon! ofc, one lemonade w/ bob coming right up! (with a gif of lew as harrison because why not)

minors dni below the cut!

"We should probably leave, before we start a scandal.”

Bob's head nuzzled at the sensitive skin just below your ear as he whispered to you, trying to be discreet as he teased you. It was the first Navy Ball you'd attended together, and the sight of Bob in his dress whites was enough to make your head spin. You'd been fighting temptation all night, and at first, Bob was completely in the dark about it. Your cheeks were often a little flushed, and your loving gaze wasn't all that different from the lustful look you'd been giving him all night.

"What do you mean? I'm behaving," you whispered, giving him a look of innocence that was half-feigned.

"I saw those bedroom eyes you were giving me earlier, if you look at me like that again, I'm not going to be able to help myself, Darlin'."

"Well, Sweetheart," you smirked, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you raised an eyebrow at him, "Sounds like you have a real problem on your hands."

Bob took you by the hand, smiling politely to anyone he passed by on his hurry to rush down the corridor. Once you entered the now empty hallway by the bathrooms, he backed against the metal door to one of them, smirking devilishly at you as he walked in, pulling you behind him. With a swift motion of his hand, the door was locked, and seconds later, he was lifting the hemline of your dress up to your waist, your hands clutching the fabric to keep it out of the way.

"Told ya to stop looking at me like that, Baby. I can't keep my hands off you when you do." He panted as he struggled to get his pants unzipped in a hurry, his cheeks becoming flushed as he got more flustered just thinking about what he was about to do with you.

"Can't help it," you grinned, holding your hands up pleadingly, "It's not my fault you look so good."

"Fuck," he groaned slightly as he stroked his cock, readying himself as he backed you against the wall.

With a quick thrust, he shoved himself into you, causing you to gasp at the sudden intrusion. He paused for a second to allow you to stretch around him, feeling your muscles tighten on him.

"Fuck, so tight, baby," he grumbled as he fucked himself into you again, "Not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that."

"Good," you said breathlessly as he picked up speed in his movements, fucking you hard and fast as he held you in place, "Just means we'll need to go for round two later."

"I'll give it to you as many times as you want, Sweetheart, just say the word," He husked as he continued his strategic thrusting into your spot, causing your knees to buckle and your thighs to shudder as you came closer to your climax.

"Bobby!" you squealed as your fingers slipped from the back of his hair, to clutching his shoulders tightly as you reached your boiling point.

"That's it, beautiful, I've got ya," he coached as he brought you through your orgasm, his own following suit moments after.

"There's my girl, looking so pretty for me," Bob purred as he stroked your hair, fixing a couple of loose strands that fell over your face as he pulled out of you, "You're gonna look even prettier at home in a couple hours when I can get you out of this dress and give it to you properly like you deserve."

You laughed as you readjusted your dress, smirking at Bob as he pulled himself back together again, fixing his sandy coloured hair in the mirror.

"That a promise, Lieutenant Floyd?"

"Always, honey."

join my 500 followers celebration here!

[dangerpronebuddie]

Hi Maggie ! I been a bit buddy and I have miss a lot of you make me write but I’m so excited about all your wips here are so for the game 👻 👻 👻 and 🔥🔥🔥

Hi dear! Glad you're back 🥰 Here's some sentences for you:

From Danger Prone Diaz:

Just as the words left his mouth, the door slammed shut. Chim jumped with a shriek and Eddie rushed to the door. He turned the knob and pushed against it to no avail. Chim joined in his efforts, but still, the door wouldn’t budge.  “Still don’t think it’s haunted?” Chim hissed.  “Wind,” Eddie drawled. “Probably caught the door just right and it’s stuck. Should’ve brought the halligan after all.” “Or a proton pack,”Chim huffed, pushing off the door and heading to the window.

And the arson fic:

“They’ve stationed an officer outside the room,” Eddie whispers.   Buck peeks around him. “Oh, it’s Harrison; he’s got a crush on you. You be the distraction while I talk to Allison.” “De veras?” Eddie protests.  “No time to debate it,” Buck says, shoving Eddie forward.

Eddie spins around and frowns at Buck, who shoos him towards Harris. Eddie sighs and turns around again. The things he does for Evan Buckley. 

Make Me Write!

[spenglersweetheart]

Hiiiiiiiiii. Okay so this can be canonxreader or canonxoc whatever ya want but I have this small offering of inspiration-

Kate: I turned out perfectly fine!

Janine: Kate, this morning you thought a ghost made your toast

Kate: I DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN! YOU DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN!!!

I just imagine Kate being very argumentative and silly when she’s sleep deprived and tends to just talk at whoever’s around her so she’s bothering Janine downstairs in the middle of the night during one of the late shifts. So one of the guys has to come collect her (it’s Egon, let’s be honest) and bring her upstairs to bed, and she’s “fighting” it the whole time. It’s just a very funny and adorable situation I think about a lot. 🙃

this is actually so funny oh my god

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

You Need to Sleep

Egon Spengler x Kate Harrison (kate belongs to this beloved creator who sent the request!)

WARNINGS : none!

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

" OH, C'MON! I TURNED OUT PERFECTLY FINE! "

KATE, IN FACT, ALMOST DID NOT TURN OUT perfectly fine. She hadn't slept for about three days and she almost shot up the whole place with her proton pack when it was supposed to be recharging for the next bust. But Kate, all by herself in the dark, scared herself and almost half the people in the Firehouse due to her freaking out about some ghost being the Firehouse when it wasn't possible. If there was, that would've been a huge problem.

But luckily, Janine had managed to get to her first before she could do any damage that they couldn't pay for. She took the wand from her hand, and made sure that she took the pack off her back before putting it away. She walked towards Kate, shaking her head.

"Kate," Janine started, a sigh escaped her lips as she crossed her arms, "This morning, you thought a ghost made your toast."

Kate looked at Janine like she was insane. Well, more scared than anything. "I didn't put the bread in! You didn't put the bread in! So who else did it?"

"I saw you put the toast in there," Janine replied.

"Janine, I swear to you. I didn't put the bread in there!" Kate huffed.

"Yeah, okay."

Kate had been talking Janine's ear off. Janine usually didn't mind having a conversation with her, considering they're the only two women working at the Firehouse. But she quickly realizes that sleep-deprived Kate was a whole different story.

One time, they managed to get into some sort of silly argument over who could slide down the pole the fastest. Janine was barely upstairs. Janine didn't even use the pole. But she entertained Kate's antics anyways.

Janine had her head down on the desk. "Kate, for the last time, I am not watching you slide down that pole again. If I see you spin on it one more time──"

She hadn't even finished her statement. Egon has walked into the room. He passed her desk, saying, "It's alright, I got her."

Egon walked toward the pole. "Kate, sweetheart, you need to sleep," he says.

"I don't want to! I wanna go onto the pole again," she whined.

Egon ends up taking her away from the pole. He swiftly carries her over his shoulder, a sigh escaped his lips as he carries her up the stairs to her room. "Not on my watch. When you sleep, that's when you can go on the pole again."

"You're no fun," Kate said to him.

"I may not be fun now, but you will thank me later after you get some sleep," Egon says.

He makes it up to the room. Egon gently puts Kate down on the bed. When she hits the bed, she's pretty much out like a light. He leaned down, giving her a kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight, Kate."

[fan-a-saurus-rex]

The Living Situation

Plot: Tom invites you to come live with him when the lease on your old apartment is up. Since he’s your best friend you jump at the opportunity. But you forgot one thing….Harrison. Sharing a home with Tom is one thing. Sharing a home with Tom’s best friend, whom you had a crush on since you met him, is another thing. Eventually you get comfortable with your new living situation, but when Tom leaves the two of you alone for the week, to visit Zendaya in LA, things start to change.

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Requested: No

Warnings: smut

Masterlist and Requests/Prompts

* * * * *

For the past year, you had been living in a shared apartment in London with your best friend Tom. But with Tom also came Harrison. It wasn’t a bad thing, you liked Harrison, a little too much actually.

The first few weeks were difficult to settle in to your new place, and another few weeks of getting used to seeing Harrison everyday. You tried your best to keep it cool and not get flustered every time he walked in the room. He made that really difficult. Especially since he’d often walk around the apartment without a shirt on.

Eventually you got accustomed to living with the two guys and allowed yourself to be comfortable.

But this week was going to be much different.

Tom was headed to LA to visit Zendaya while she attended a charity event. This meant that you and Harrison would be left alone together for the whole week. The two of you had been alone in the apartment together before, but never for a whole week.

The two of you helped Tom pack his bags up into the cab he was catching to the airport.

“Say ‘hi’ to Zee for me” you said as you gave him one last hug.

“I will {y/n}. Behave yourself while I’m gone” he said chuckling.

“I always do” you said with a smile.

You watched as him and Harrison shared a ‘bro hug’ before he got into the cab and took off. You walked back into the apartment and sat back down on the couch, continuing to read your book. Moments later Harrison walked in and sat down beside you.

It was going to be the beginning of a really awkward week for you. Or so you thought.

• • • • •

Things had actually been going better this week than you ever expected. You had been spending a lot of alone time with Harrison, going golfing, playing video games, and visiting van art museum where a friend of yours had a pop-up photography gallery.

One night the two of you were sitting in the couch watching a new tv series you discovered.

“So, would you like to do something tonight?” You heard him ask.

You looked up from the tv and smiled “what did you have in mind?” You asked

He shrugged “I thought we could go to the pub, have some food and drinks” he said

You smiled “that sounds fun, it’s been a while since I went out”

You both went upstairs to change and get ready to go.

• • • • •

Later that night at the pub you were having drinks and reminiscing about memories from growing up together.

“Remember when Harry got drunk at your birthday party?” He asked laughing

“Yeah, he was so drunk at one point that he kissed me” you said laughing.

“He kissed you? Shit, so you’ve kissed 3 out of the 4 Holland boys, lucky girl” he said jokingly.

“I don’t wanna brag, but yes” you said giggling.

You had, in fact, also kissed Sam and Tom. You had kissed Sam on a dare one night at a party. You and Tom had a ‘fling’ when you were 15. You dated for a month, long enough to kiss each other and realize it was just too awkward to date each other. So you broke up, remained friends, and never spoke of it again. The relationship wouldn’t have lasted anyway, you’d had a crush on Harrison since you were 12.

“I’m surprised we’ve never kissed” he said chuckling “it’s not like we’ve never had an opportunity”

You were shocked to hear him say that, you almost spit out your drink. “What do you mean?” You asked.

“We grew up together. We’ve been to so many parties where we played spin the bottle or got drunk at the club in college” he said shrugging. “Just thought we would have been forced into a kiss, or just got curious, by now”

You didn’t really know what to say do you just blurted put the first thing that came to mind “do you think about that often?”

“What? Kissing you?” he took the last sip of his drink.

“Yeah”

“Sometimes” he confessed. “I always wondered what it would have been like”

You bit your lip. You hadn’t realized that Harrison had even considered kissing you. You liked him a lot, but he was your best friend above being your crush. You decided to distract yourself by taking the final sip of your drink. You eventually paid your tab and the two of you walked home, the whole time you thought about what he had said.

• • • • •

As soon as the two of you got changed back into something comfortable and sat down on the couch to watch a movie. Halfway through you looked over at Harrison. He was lounging on the other end of the couch. You had to resist the urge to move closer and cuddle into him like you wanted to.

You looked away quickly to avoid staring. Seconds later you heard him speak up. “I’ve had a lot of fun with you this week {y/n}, we don’t get to spend a lot of time together with Tom around”

You blushed “I’ve had fun too” you said.

He sat up and looked at you. You tried hard not to make direct eye contact but his bright blue eyes drew you in like a moth to a flame.

“Did you mean what you said at the pub?” You asked

“About what?”

“Kissing me”

He bit his lip “I did.” He said moving closer to you. “But you never told me how you felt about it”

“I….I was just surprised” you weren’t sure how to tell him that you’d liked him since you 12 years old, almost 16 years of pent up feelings stuck inside your head.

“Why?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

“I mean, why would you wanna kiss me? I’m one of your best friends”

“Yeah, my best friend that I’ve had a crush on since year 9” he admitted

“Wait…what?” You asked.

“Yeah, I realized I liked you when you started dating Tom. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think I was your type.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed a bit “Harrison I’ve had a crush on you since the day we met”

“You have?”

You nodded “yeah”

Before you could react his lips were on yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. Your hands made their way to his chest, feeling all the way up till your arms snaked around his neck. His hand eventually reaching down to your hips.

You weren’t thinking straight as your lips molded together with his in a needy kiss. He parted your lips with his tongue, fighting you for dominance, but eventually giving in to you when you bit his bottom lip, a throaty groan escaping his mouth.

You pulled away slowly and looked up into his blue eyes that had darkened. You knew exactly what that meant, even though you’d never seen him look at anyone that way.

You hitched your leg over his, now straddling his lap, placing your lips back onto his. His hands were placed firmly on you butt, occasionally squeezing your cheeks and pulling you closer to him as the kiss got deeper and deeper until you were making out on the couch, something you never thought you’d ever be doing with Harrison.

After a few more minutes he pulled away and pulled his shirt off. You followed suit, pulling yours off as well, before reconnecting your lips to his. He reached up, grabbing your breasts gently. You were happy you hadn’t left your bra on, his hands felt so good on your bare skin. You moaned softly into his mouth.

“Mmm, I want you {y/n}” he said softly, almost in a whisper

“I want you too” you said breathlessly

He picked you up and carried you upstairs to his bedroom, not wanting to do anything naughty on the couch that you shared with Tom, that would be awkward.

Once in his room, he laid you down the bed and immediately pulled off your shorts, pulling your panties off with them, then removing his basketball shorts and boxers. You were practically dripping with anticipation, and so far the only thing he’d done was kiss you and softly touch your boobs.

He hovered over you, kissing you softly before kissing down your neck, causing you to squirm underneath him.

“Something wrong?” He asked

“No, I just really need you, you’re driving me crazy” you said breathlessly.

He smirked at you and reached down to rub you softly causing you to moan. He lined himself up to your center and pushed in slowly.

You groaned a bit, adjusting to him, it had been a while, and he was bigger than the others. You didn’t mind though. Eventually you adjusted and it started to feel good, but you knew it could feel better.

“Harrison, move” you said softly.

He bit his lip and started pushing in further, eventually bottoming out.

“so tight…” he groaned softly as he starters thrusting in and out of you.

“Feels so good” you moaned before pulling him down for another kiss.

His lips felt so good on yours, you could spend the rest of your life kissing him if he’d let you. You allowed your tongue to slip into his mouth for a moment before biting his bottom lip, tugging on it gently, making him chuckle.

He continued thrusting into you, eventually finding your sweet spot. He repeatedly hit that area causing you moan a little too loudly.

“Harrison, don’t stop!”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. Both of you were suddenly in a brain fog. The only thing you could think of was each other and finally going over the edge.

He continued thrusting deeply, causing you to grip the sheets. “I’m so close!” You moaned

“Me too” he groaned

With a final few thrusts, you both hit your highs at the same time, moaning each other’s names through deep breaths.

He collapsed beside you and as the two of you caught your breath you heard a voice from the doorway.

“What the fuck? I leave you two alone for a week and you hook up with each other?” You heard Tom’s voice. You had totally forgotten that he’d be coming home today.

You frantically started to cover up with Harrison’s blankets, blushing bright red at the idea of your best friend catching you fucking your other friend.

“Sorry mate, you should’ve know this would happen eventually” Harrison said chuckling.

Tom just rolled his eyes “if you do it again while I’m home try to be quieter” he said chuckling.

As he walked away, shutting Harrison’s door on the way out, you felt Harrison kiss your forehead.

“We’ll definitely be doing that again” he said chuckling

You giggled and kissed him softly “then we better be quiet or Tom might kick us out”

He chuckled and held you close to him “I’d like to see him try”

* * * * *