#I COULD GIVE HIM ANOTHER ONE THERE WERE OPTIONS!! but i did me second and im too lazy-

[bravevolunteer]

mun v. muse!

stolen from going around the dash lmao tagging: whoever wants to !!

[barleyo]

Consequence.

Adoptive Dad! Enji Todoroki X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: nobody asked for this but idc :3 i wrote this as a b-day present for myself!! i luv this old abusive man so bad oh my god!!! nasty old man who tries to be good but fails so miserably :3 old man who is just MEANT to be awful and abusive and gross!! luv it!!! i wanted to do a full on incest fic w him but idk if anybody would be interested >_< just let me know!!

Tags: adoptive-incest (daddy-daughter), age gap (18-50s), p in v, purity, sexual abuse mentions, loss of virginity, allusions to physical abuse, size difference, creampie, gross nasty stuff in general

Wordcount: 1.6k

Once all of his kids had given him a final 'fuck you' and left him on his own, Enji felt the pressure of loneliness crash down on him. Being on top in the hero rankings was worthless to him when he came home to an empty house. Every second he sat alone in his house, he realized that it was simply too big for just one man. It had never been a home, only a house where a fragmented family resided. Only once his kids fled did that realization hit him. 

He needed to fill the space and quick, and more than that, he needed to start over. He wanted to redeem himself somehow. Whole new family for a whole new man. 

But dating was hard at his age, and all the decent women were taken. Only fame-chasing whores were interested in him at this point, and he couldn't blame them. What the hell else did he have to offer? No woman would want to be with a tired, emotionally constipated, divorced, middle-aged man. Nor would any want to have kids with one, especially not at his age. 

Adoption it was. Simple enough. Plenty of kids in the system. Plenty of needy little brats that could benefit from his new-found, new-wave parenting tactics that he read up on in his abundant spare time. 'Don't abuse your kids.' Who would've thought it? Crazy. 'Top ten reasons why your kids won't visit you when you're in the nursing home.' Well, shit. 

He knew he had to go older. He would be absolutely damned if he would take in a toddler, or worse, a tween. He wasn't ready to raise anyone— he needed something already broken in for the most part. 

17? Yeah, that should be fine. He could do that. Old enough to take care of itself for the most part. Another body in the house was what he needed, not another responsibility. A girl? Yeah. Girls were supposed to be easier, right? Girls are sweet and grateful, always considerate and willing to help out. Girls are gentle and tender. 

Just his luck. He got the most clingy girl the foster care system had to offer. It was, at most, a bit irritating for the first few days when you were skittish and nervous around him all the time, but he understood. The problems occurred when you started to get comfortable.

He thought he wanted an affectionate little thing, especially considering the radio silence he received from his biological children, but this was just too much. Wherever he was, you needed to be. All day, all night. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, excluding when he was on patrol. 

Enji knew that adopted kids tended to have abandonment issues, or whatever, but did you have to be such a damn velcro child? It was cute, in a way, the first year or so of your stay with him. He kinda liked it, having some positive attention finally turned his way, but at a certain point it was just too much. 

Like when you turned 18 and decided that sleeping alone was no longer an option. Of course, he gave in. He tried to argue back, but the threat of tears from you was too much for his now mended heart. He was trying to change, damn it. He couldn't possibly not give you everything you ever asked for. 

'Oh, what's that? Sleeping in daddy's bed isn't enough? He has to spoon with you until you fall asleep? Honey, do you really think—? No, no, don't cry. Okay, okay, I'll do it.'

Or when spooning wasn't enough, and you needed to be massaged before falling asleep in Enji's arms, taking up his bed like nobody's business. 

'What's wrong, baby? Daddy's already rubbing your back, what else do you want? Touch you where? Baby— okay, since you said please.'

Every night, his thick fingers ran tight circles over your clit, strong arms holding you tight while you flailed and wriggled against him. You never seemed to get used to his touch. It was just too good. He split you open with his index and middle, curling into the spot you couldn't quite reach on your own. Every night, like clockwork. 

But, of course, you, the mouse who was given a cookie, asked for more. Fingers weren't enough. You needed more from daddy. Sleep didn't come easily enough for you after his skilled touches. You whined for him after every exchange, but he just couldn't give you what you wanted.

Daddy would do almost anything for his baby, anything you asked! Hell, if it made you happy, if it helped to ease the guilt he carried from his older four screw ups, why not? If it helped to mend the hole he created in his own heart, he'd pepper you in every kiss and suck and touch you as much as you wanted him to, but—

he really didn't think he could deflower you. 

The idea was too much, way too much. Kind of hypocritical of him. Finger banging and slurping on his adoptive daughter was well and good enough, but playing a little game of 'just the tip' was a line he didn't know if he could cross. 

It was tempting, and every time he turned you down he felt like a real douchebag, but he didn't trust himself with you. You were so small. He was anything but gentle. He had broken enough of his kids in other ways, he didn't exactly want to add to the score. 

Your cunt was swollen and drooling after your near nightly ritual with Enji. Crawl up into his bed, whine, scratch at him and beg for his sweet touch. You always got what you wanted, except for one thing.

"Why not?" you whined, gripping onto his forearm as he curled his fingers into you from his spot behind you, lazily acting as your big spoon. 

"This is enough." His teeth were gritted softly, trying to hold himself back. "You cum like this just fine."

You let your mouth hang open, shuddering silently at how he seemed to speed up and abuse your g-spot. "Not enough," you were finally able to make out, legs clenching in an attempt to force him to stop. 

Enji huffed, ignoring your whiny excuse. He hated when you locked him out like this, trying to keep your cunt from him like some type of half-assed punishment. Moving your legs back open, spread even further now, he continued fingering you with the same brutal, forceful pace. 

"You're being bratty, baby. I don't appreciate when you act like that," he said simply, looking down at your convulsing body. 

"You always say that," you said, pushing his arm as you tried to squirm away from him to pout. "You don't wanna 'cause you don't love me. Don't wanna get close t'me." 

That was his final straw. He had been holding himself back for your sake, but he could not handle the hurt tone in your voice, even if he knew you were faking just to get him to bite. 

He pulled his fingers out of your hole and pushed them into your mouth, stuffing the digits down your throat. He slipped his girthy cock out of his boxers, jamming the wide tip into your needy warmth. 

"You know that is not true," Enji said, already fucking into you without regard to how you were almost too tight. He'd fix that. Make you fit like a glove soon enough. "I spoil you enough, and you still want more?"

You moaned, sound coming out muffled from his fingers blocking your words. He pulled them out, strings of saliva coating your cheek as he brought his hand back to your clit. 

"Jus' wanna be closer to you 'nd feel you."

He scoffed, pushing down on your clit with too much force, bringing you to the edge of climax already. 

"No, you're a spoiled brat. I give you too much," he said, not meaning a damn word that came from his mouth. "Got used to getting whatever you want, huh? Selfish little pussy taking everything it can get." 

The pure euphoria you get from him being rough with you for once is unmatched. Daddy gave you what you wanted all the time, and you liked it, but he was too gentle with it. Like he was scared to mess up or make a mistake (again). You needed him to correct you, you'd wanted him to fuck some sense into you for so long.

You clenched the silky sheets on the bed, hands trembling while he pounding into you, hips cramming against yours spastically. 

God, he was ashamed. 

Not because he was fucking his daughter, hell, he came this far without problem. He just usually was much better in bed. Your gasps and shaky moans did little to appease him. Any other time, he'd be composed and sophisticated with his strokes, but he was sloppy and needy now. 

His cock kicked inside of you, twitching when he spilled his seed. He was so caught up in his own embarrassment that he hadn't realized how dangerously close he had gotten. 

"Daddy, did you—?"

Your question was interrupted by his hand covering your mouth, unstable thrusts continuing to fill your senses. You couldn't care that he came in you when he made you feel this good.

While your legs shook and your pussy gushed, one thing was made very apparent to both you and Enji:

This was the first time he let himself go and fucked you, but it would definitely not be the last.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

i am living for some angst 👀

especially some satoru angst

Hold me. Console me.

Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, depictions of poor mental health, depiction of a panic attack, Satoru’s a little bit of an asshole here.

An: Same… same. Before you read this and blame me for how fucked this story is, know that one of my moots (cough. cough. @theuniversesnepobaby cough.) was sending me sad angsty edits last night. this is partially her fault too.

Satoru was normally a very doting and attentive boyfriend. He’s the type to beg to be in your presence. He’d kill to feel your touch against his skin. “Casual” isn’t a word in his dictionary. When he loves, he loves loudly.

So when he got quiet with his love, your body started to fill with a sense of dread. Cold and bitter feelings crawled their way between you two. No longer did you two laugh until you were out of breath and red in the face. No longer did he surprise you with gifts or try to scare you when you’re unaware of his presence.

His strong arms hadn’t wrapped around you in so long. The ruthless chill of being utterly alone plagued you, while Satoru seemed fine. He was even taking on extra hours at his job. So many nights he didn’t come back until nearly midnight.

How could he not see what’s happening? How could he not notice how much you’re drowning?

“I’m going out.” His words are flat with no care put into them. He’s telling you because he feels as if it’s obligatory — not because he doesn’t want you to worry.

“Where are you going?” So many times have you tried to reach out. It was as if you two were passing back and forth a candle of your relationship. You had ignited the flame and passed it to him so many times, but each time, he snuffs it out without a second thought — leaving you in the dark. Maybe one more time, you metaphorically light the candle in hopes to kinder your relationship…

“Out.” Flame snuffed.

“Oh.” He’s done it so many times, but it hurts just as bad each and every time. Being single wouldn’t hurt this bad. At least you wouldn’t be getting rejected by your own boyfriend on a daily basis.

“See ya.” He doesn’t even give you a second glance as he grabs his coat and saunters out the door. Another night spent alone. Another night filled with a barely eaten tv dinner and a shitty reality tv show droning on in the back while you doomscroll on your phone.

You two use to watch these reality tv shows together and laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Satoru would hold you so close to his body, and he’d whine anytime you tried to adjust. When was the last time that happened? You never suspected the end of affectionate gestures would come while you two were still in a relationship.

You check Geto’s story on instagram. Sometimes, you’d catch small glimpses of Satoru in the back. Sometimes they were at a cafe or an arcade together. Tonight, it seemed as though Suguru was at very packed party scene.

You hold your breath in your lungs as you rewatch the story again and again — searching for a white head of hair. Your boyfriend makes it too easy for you to stalk him. Though, it feels like a fitting punishment for the turmoil he’s put you through.

No Satoru in sight. You sigh quietly before you check Shoko’s story. It was less likely that Satoru would be captured there, but he has made his appearances in the past. It seemed like tonight Shoko wasn’t present at whatever rager Suguru was at. She posted a picture of her beautifully written notes. She must be studying.

Nanami never posts on his story, so you don’t even bother going to check his barren profile. Haibara never features Satoru in his stories, so you skip his as well. This leaves you with one last option.

Your hand is a little shaky as you click on Utahime’s story. You don’t know when it started, but your cheeks and ears were wet with tears already. Your body had some sort of sick sixth sense for knowing when something was wrong, and something was terribly wrong.

You had always had your little insecurities about Utahime ever since Satoru indulged that he had a small crush on her back in high school. Of course, these were just fleeting thoughts. Up until recently, you knew with full confidence that you had Satoru’s heart. He wouldn’t stray from you. 

You didn’t have that same confidence anymore. Satoru had withdrawn, and it seemed as if he took his heart with him.

You hate being right. You wish you were wrong sometimes. On Utahime’s story, she’s seemingly at the same party that Suguru’s at. Her story is littered with pictures of her with other girls that you don’t recognize, videos of the loud music and people dancing in a crowd, and there’s just one last video on her story that makes your heart sink to your stomach.

Your boyfriend’s pretty blue eyes illuminated by the flash from her back camera. He smiled and laughed as Utahime filmed him. His face was littered with wine red lipstick kiss marks. Utahime had a grab on your boyfriend’s collar, obviously trying to hold his drunk self still while she filmed his crime.

It felt like a punch straight to your gut. You couldn’t even think straight, but you knew you needed to keep this evidence in case she deletes it. Your fingers shakily screenshot the story, logging the picture of Satoru covered in someone else’s affections.

He was out there feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness, receiving kisses from another, dancing to his heart’s content, and enjoying his life while you were sat at home weeping over the loss of your boyfriend.

The tv dinner, now cold and stale, was thrown into the garbage, and whatever little bit you had eaten came up soon after.

The picture was seared into your memory. You didn’t have to look at it to know every minor detail. The way his white hair was messy. His glasses were pulled down ever so slightly to reveal his devastatingly beautiful eyes. His coat hung on his shoulders while his muscular neck peaked out from his shirt.

Every time you closed your eyes, you thought about how many kiss marks he had on his face. How many times had he allowed himself to cheat on you? Was this the first time? Had it gone farther than this? Was it Utahime or some other girl?

You cried yourself to sleep, knowing that Satoru wouldn’t even come home to try to console you.

The next morning, you were disappointed as soon as you woke up. You wished sleep would’ve taken your body and whisked it away far, far from here. Instead, you’re still in your bed, sleeping on a pillow that was stained from your mascara.

If you could, you’d rot in bed all day and try to forget the godforsaken video you saw last night, but you had to make a trip to the restroom.

Forcing your weak body out of bed, you let out a small pained moan. You haven’t eaten a proper meal in so long, and you threw up whatever you did eat yesterday. Your appetite was completely diminished. Satoru use to say that food tasted better when it was shared. He always shared his meals with you, unbeknownst to him, helping you maintain a good schedule for eating.

Your apartment was too bright when you stepped out of the bathroom, and it smelled too much of food. The sizzling on the stove finally caught your drowsy attention.

The man of the hour, Satoru, was at your stove, shirtless and cooking something. Sleeping pants casually hung around his hips, and the dimples at the bottom of his back were so graciously being shown off. Did someone else know about those two little dimples? Even though back was facing you, you could already picture his face, littered with those stupid kiss marks.

Making a b-line for the bathroom, Satoru doesn’t even get the chance to greet you. Your hands were cold and clammy as your body uncontrollably heaved over the toilet. You had nothing left to give, but Satoru was taking everything from you.

Hot tears burned your cheeks as they slipped down your face. You didn’t want to do this. You wished you would’ve never saw that fucking video last night. You should’ve given yourself plausible deniability, but now, you had to face the music.

You slowly returned back to the kitchen after trying your best to clean yourself up. Your eyes focused on Satoru. He was finishing up cooking bacon when his eyes finally met yours and drove daggers through your heart.

“Good morning, sweetness. Something wrong?” He asks with so much care in his tone. You fantasize about hitting him — just once. How dare he suddenly care when you have to check out?

You don’t even know what to say to him. Like, yes, something is clearly fucking wrong, Satoru. I’m dating an unfaithful jerk.

“What are you doing here?” You ask bluntly, wiping your face of the remnants of tears and makeup that had stained your skin. He shouldn’t be allowed to see how badly he hurt you.

“I… live here?” He responds in a questioning tone, furrowing his white eyebrows as he studies your face. “Are you okay?” If only he had asked that question weeks ago, then maybe you two wouldn’t be in this mess today.

“No, and you don’t live here anymore.” You snap, causing him to slightly flinch back — not out of fear but out of surprise. He’s never seen you like this before.

“What do you mean, sweetness? I-“

“Cut the shit, Gojo. Don’t act stupid with me. It’s unbecoming.” You interrupt him completely, not wanting to hear him try to act innocent when you have all the proof you need on your phone.

“Woah. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I don’t really appreciate the insult and the use of my government name. I genuinely have no idea of what you’re talking about.” His voice is firm, laced with sternness, so you can see that he’s not playing around with you.

You take a deep breath until your lungs burn. You want to scream at him, chase him out of the house, and light his shit on fire. Instead, you silently go to retrieve your phone. Pulling up the picture of him with kiss marks all over his face, you shove the screen in his direction.

Gojo takes a few seconds to take in the photo, and he lets his shoulders drop. “This is what you’re mad over, sweetness?” He asks in a much more calm tone, looking up at you with almost puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t call me that.” You snap while swiping your phone back from his hands. “I didn’t think I’d have to spell it out for you, but we’re fucking done.”

“You seriously believe that I would cheat on you?” He asks in that stupid arrogant tone of his, completely ignoring your blunt rejection.

“Why else would your high school crush post a picture of you with kiss marks all over your face!? You look so fucking dumb and in love. I fucking-“ Your throat chokes up as if your body was trying to stop you from saying something you didn’t mean. The words “I fucking hate you” die right there on your lips. Tears fall down your cheeks, and you place your palms over your eyes to hide yourself from his impregnable gaze.

“This, again?” He asks in a frustrated tone before letting out an exasperated sigh, He turns the stove off - abandoning his food before walking over to you. He bends his knees a bit to get on your level. “Look at me.” He demands before his hands go to pull yours away from your eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You cry out, jerking back away from his presence. Your breath speeds up. The oxygen isn’t having enough time to enter your bloodstream. Your body is vibrating, forcing the air quickly from your lungs. Everything is moving so fast and why the fuck is he so close to you-? He’s suffocating. Fuck, catch your breath. Whyhim?Whyyou?Why?Why?Whatdidyoudotodeservethis???

A gush of air is blown harshly onto your face, and you can feel the bitter cold feeling of something touching your skin. Your eyes see Satoru’s hand holding an ice cube, guiding it along your warm skin on your arm. Your body is so hot that it’s melting faster than he’s moving it.

“Breathe. Match my movements.” Satoru guides in a calm yet steady tone. Your eyes find the way his chest is slowly rising and falling with each breath. You want to tell him to go play in traffic. You don’t need him to ground you. You don’t need him to do anything for you. You don’t need him.

Still, your body matches his slowly. Your breath becomes more stable, and you can feel your heart starting to settle into a more natural rhythm. Your bleary eyes meet his empathetic ones. It’s been so long since your last panic attack, but he remembers just how to calm you down.

It only makes it all hurt so much worse.

“It’s almost over. You’re doing a good job.” He takes his chances at encouraging you. It feels so sickening, more tears flee your eyes. Where had your boyfriend been, and why is he only just now back after he did the unthinkable?

“Sing with me.” It’s an odd request, but it’s something he found that grounds you better than most grounding techniques. Saying repeatable phrases in melodic tone is comforting for your mind.

“No.”

“Come on… Just one time. Your favorite.” He tries again. Metaphorically, lighting the candle and passing it back to you.

You shake your head in response. Flame snuffed. How can you sing with him after what he did to you?

“Come on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babe” He starts with such a soft angelic voice. You fold in on yourself unable to keep the sob from escaping your throat. What method of torture is this??

“If you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.” He continues, lighting that same candle. It’s so small, barely there anymore from how many times you two have tried to relight it.

“Hold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.” The ice cube has completely melted, and his hand is resting on your arm. He slowly guides you to his chest, and you indulge in his warm embrace for just one last time.

“Come on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babe.” His chin rests on top of your head. You’ve always fit so well in his arms. He’d always tell you that whatever higher power is out there made you specifically with him in mind.

“If you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.” His skin is so warm against yours, and your tears are sticking to your chest.

“Hold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.” You finally indulge him, softly joining in on his singing. His body slowly starts to guide you two into a soft subtle sway.

“Come on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babe.” It’s not that easy. This fucking hurts so bad. Why would your soulmate do this to you?

“If you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.” You feel so pathetic — seeking out comfort from the one who hurt you this bad. If your friend could see you right now, she’d slap some sense into you.

“Hold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.”

You’re sniffling softly into his chest, and his hand carefully pets your hair. “Those kiss marks weren’t from Utahime.” He explains in a soft tone. “We were filming a TikTok. The punchline of the joke was that Suguru and Haibara were the ones who kissed all over my face.”

You look up at him with an unsure look on your face, not understanding what he meant. Satoru carefully picks your phone up, and he clicks on Haibara’s Instagram story from last night.

Sure enough, Haibara posted a TikTok of him, Suguru, Satoru, and Utahime. The camera points at Satoru, showing the kiss marks on his face, and the sound plays. “Bro, what happened to your face? Did you do that?” The camera then pans to Utahime to which she mouths the words, “I did not do that.” The camera then pans to Haibara with smeared wine red lipstick on his lips who says, “Then, who did?” The camera is then panned towards Suguru. He also had wine red lipstick smeared on his lips. “Yeah, who?” The two boys start laughing along with Satoru, and the video cuts.

It only comforts your weary heart slightly.

“It was just a stupid TikTok… I should’ve consulted you or warned you… done anything to respect you.”

“This doesn’t take back how awfully cold you’ve been over the last few weeks…” You sniffle out quietly, and Satoru nods his head knowingly.

“I know, sweetness.. I know. I’ve been terrible.” His arms squeeze you a bit tighter — frightened that he was so close to loosing you, still scared of losing you.

“That’s not an apology… or even a reason.” You try to squirm from his grip, but Satoru holds you tighter.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetness.” He breathes out a shaky breath, and you realize the shakiness in his voice. Glancing up at him, you feel yourself clam up with the sight of tears in his eyes. Christ, his eyes are somehow even more blue when he cries. “Shit got crazy at work then-“

“You still had time to party it up with your friends. You left me without even telling me you love me.” You finally break away from his grasp. The cheating accusation was only the surface of the main problem.

“You know I love you…” His voice is small, and he wipes his eyes of the tears that are threatening to spill.

“Do I know that?”

“Don’t… don’t say that.. I love you more than life itself.” His shaky hands go to reach for you again, but you move back away from him.

“You’re only doing this because I’m leaving you. If I hadn’t mentioned it, you’d probably still be half assed ignoring me.” You stare at him, and your eyes start to water for the nth time today.

“That’s not…” Satoru bites his tongue, and he runs a hand through his messy white hair. “I came home this morning… saw the uneaten tv dinner in the trash… Your reality tv show was still playing in the background, and I saw how you fell asleep with your makeup messed up… I realized then how much I neglected you… I planned a full day for us to enjoy each other’s presence… Please, don’t leave me for this. I can fix this.”

“How did it feel to look at me everyday when I tried so fucking hard to reach you?”

“It killed me.” He breathes out, and he tries to reach for you again. “Please, I missed you so much. Work was just so fucking much, and I don’t know why I took that out on you.”

You stare at him, and you shake your head silently. “You should go, Gojo..” Your voice cracked as it physically pained you to tell him to leave. Your body craves him more than anything else in the world right now.

“No, please, princess. Don’t do this… I can fix this. I’ll do whatever it takes… just don’t leave me…” Satoru’s on his knees, literally begging you not to leave him. Tears are falling down his cheeks as he bows his head to you.

It’s humiliating, but he’s so humiliatingly in love with you. He’s so dead serious. He’d do anything for you to stay with him.

“Toru..”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I-I don’t know why I did it. I just pulled away from you, and I don’t know how it happened. You’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened t-to me. Please. I can’t function without you.”

You stare at your boyfriend with concern as his head literally touches the floor beneath him. You don’t even know what to say to him. The thought of leaving him hurts so fucking bad. It steals the breath from your lungs.

“Please don’t leave me… puh…. please stay with me.” He’s groveling at your feet, unable to stop the tears that escape his eyes. The thought of living in a world where you aren’t his girlfriend… he wouldn’t. He’d be a shell of who he once was. He’s nothing without you.

You slowly sit on the floor in front of him, and your hands stroke his soft hair gently. Satoru’s breath slows as he finally gets a grip on his emotions. He realizes just how pathetic he looks. He slowly leans up, and he looks at you. Both of you looked like complete messes, and it was all his fault.

“I don’t deserve you,” He murmurs quietly. “but please, I can make this better… I love you so much, sweetness… I wouldn’t dream of ever cheating on you.”

“I don’t forgive you.” Your voice is barely a whisper. The metaphorical flame is so small and shaky, but if you two both shield it from the wind, it’ll be able to grow once more. “You have a lot to prove me, Toru.”

“I’ll spend every waking minute of my life fixing this. I promise you, sweets.”

and he did. Satoru went back to loving you loudly. He didn’t merely shield the flame from being blown out, he fanned it himself so it grew in intensity. He was back to doting on you constantly, and he did frequent check-ins to make sure you weren’t feeling neglected. He took frequent vacations from work with you. He usually took you two out on holidays to wherever your heart desired, but sometimes you two would use his vacation time to just lounge around the house and enjoy each other’s presence.

Your confidence slowly returned to you over time. It wasn’t easy by any means. It took many nights of Satoru’s consistent reassurance and overwhelming love and support for you to slowly start feeling comfortable in your relationship with him.

He put in the work, nourished your flame, and he never made you feel guilty for having a second thought because when he loves, he loves deeply. Casual is not his strong suit.

[reidrum]

i cannot stop thinking about reader giving jesus hair spencer a blowjob, and him using the hair tie he keeps on his wrist to put her hair up

hair tie | s.r

a/n: hey so this made me insane. also i wrote this really fast if it seems rushed that’s why. may we all be manhandled by jesus reid in the near future amen

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, blowjob, softdom!spence lowkey, reader has hair long enough to be tied up, can be read as gn!reader but lmk if i missed something!

wc: 888

——————————————————————————

spencer’s long hair was definitely a choice. he grew it out to his shoulders purely because he couldn’t make it to a barber, and simply because he didn’t really care. it did become a hassle when he’d be hunched over his desk finishing reports and strands of hair would fall forward and obstruct his eyesight.

he found that he would waste so much time when he paused to push his hair behind his ears (two minutes and thirty seconds slower, he counted). he’d come home to you and complain wondering how all women dealt with the long hair if it just always flew in front of them. how did you get anything done?

then one day when spencer came home from work, you had a small surprise for him. a pack of 100 black hairties.

“so you can just put your hair up in a little pony or man bun and keep working!” you’d exclaimed.

he was so endeared by the gesture, he rarely ever tied his hair up but he never left the house without a hair tie on his wrist. he liked having the option if he needed it, plus it always reminded him of you when he saw it.

the few times he’s used it are during intense heat waves in dc, when he’s dealing with toxic chemicals and such, and when he’s with you.

when he goes down on you, his hair would never stay in place. and it irked him to have to remove his fingers from you in order to fix it. you found it so hot though. he was deathly hot, but he really didn’t understand what it did to you when he was on his knees tying his hair up for you.

until it happened to him, of course.

he had come home from work, tired from the day at the office. you led him to the couch and told him to sit and relax while you took care of him. he spreads his legs open and leans back onto the couch, his arms fanning outwards to rest on the ledge, “you’re too good to me, baby.”

you were down on him, moving your head and back and forth on his length. you traced the underside vein with your tongue, getting as much as you could down your throat. the sight of you dribbling spit all over his cock sent him into another orbit. it was messy, lewd, and outright fucking hot.

but that hair of yours kept falling down your cheeks and blocked the beautiful view of him fucking your mouth. he rakes his hands through your hair, but as much as he could hold it on his own, your ministrations were too good for him to keep a good grip on it.

in a haste move, he removes his hands and you look up at him in confusion at the loss of contact. you watch intently as he rolls the hair tie off his sleeve, the one that you got him, and watch him tie your hair up in a haphazard ponytail.

jesus fucking christ.

you whimper at the gesture, overwhelmed by the feeling of him tying your hair up. he feels you falter for a second, before you raise both hands to the remaining of his cock that didn’t fit in your mouth and hollow your cheeks out.

“fuck, angel, that’s so good—oh my god,” he mewls, “you like it when i tie your hair up? like when i—shit— use my own hair tie on you?”

you moan around his cock, sending vibrations throughout his body which he responded with a long groan, “bet you didn’t think this is what i’d use the hair ties for huh?”

he stares down at your face, tears streaming down both sides as you keep him in your mouth, as he twirls the ponytail in his big hand and tugs.

“baby, oh my god, fuck i’m gonna come.” he lets out, and soon he releases himself into your mouth as you swallow every last drop. you pull your mouth off his cock, leaning your cheek on his inner thigh as you stare up at him trying to catch your breath.

“holy shit.” you breathe out.

he laughs, “holy shit is right,” he strokes your hair gently, “was it actually hot when i tied your hair up?”

you look at him incredulously, “are you joking? the fact that i bought it for you to use, that you keep it on your wrist all the time, and that you used it on me when i was sucking you off, i could outcompete the sun right now.”

he pulls you off your knees to sit on his lap on the couch, “i’ll make note of that, my love,” he softly kisses you. cuddling further into his chest, you both end up falling asleep on the couch tangled all up in each other.

later down the line, spencer realizes that those cheap black hair ties aren’t all that great. they break easily and he finds it pulled out his hair, and probably your hair, a lot.

to solve this, spencer buys a pack of baby pink scrunchies that he keeps on his wrist at all times. he read somewhere they’re easier on the scalp. morgan makes fun of him for it, and while spencer rarely uses the scrunchies for himself, looking at the pink on his wrist always made his cock twitch a little no matter where he was.

[yikesmary]

options — choi seungcheol x reader

summary: where cheol tries his best to make sure your pregnancy cravings are satisfied—by buying what seems to be the whole convenience store

notes: this can be seen as a pt. 2 to this one shot I wrote back in June of last year (I did not know it's been that long since that has been posted wtf), but it can also be seen as a standalone. I got a burst of inspiration suddenly, so enjoy the one shot! <3

disclaimer: I am not pregnant, so whatever I write about pregnancy is through pure guessing, and also, if I decide to google it! so yeah :)

masterlist

"Did you leave any food for the other customers who might want to eat tonight?" you asked in amusement, watching Seungcheol put what seemed like the fifth plastic bag filled with food from the convenience store onto the table.

"Well, you kept on texting me things the baby might want, so I decided to get everything you've been craving and maybe some things that might work," Seungcheol explained, a bit out of breath from how many times he had to go back and forth.

"Baby, don't you think this is a bit too much? I don't even think baby girl will want a fourth of these," you said, rubbing your pregnant belly.

Ever since you and Seungcheol found out you were pregnant, he had become an even more attentive husband, if possible. He had insisted that you were not allowed to lift a single finger throughout your pregnancy, saying that you shouldn't get tired.

You had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night? He would wake up the second you called his name, helping you from the bed and waiting outside the bathroom to make sure you didn't fall in or something (it had happened once, and Seungcheol was both worried and amused at the time). You were hungry? Seungcheol was already ordering something from a food delivery app or cooking one of the doctor-approved dishes that he taught himself to make.

He also made sure all of your pregnancy cravings were satisfied, which was why you've found yourself with what must've been the entire convenience store stock in your home. "So where do we start?" you asked, watching as he brought out a ton of different food out of the bags—chips, samgak (and regular) kimbap, ramen packs, and even ice cream from the bags.

"We should probably see if baby wants the already made food, and the ice cream can be a dessert?" He suggested, but you were already eyeing up your favorite ice cream from even before you got pregnant.

Seungcheol saw that you were looking at the ice cream and without fail, gave it to you before going to the freezer in order to put the rest in so they don't melt. "Thank you," you grinned, a mouthful of ice cream, which made him shake his head in endearment.

"Here, smell this," he said, giving you an open bag of chips.

You looked at him weirdly, yet smelled it. "It smells... like chips?" you said and smelt it one more time just to be sure.

"Does the baby want this?" He asked.

"Oh, not really," you shook your head, and he closed up the chip bag and proceeded to grab another bag, presumably to do the same.

"This one?" Seungcheol asked, giving you what looked like the last item, which was a cup tteokbokki.

"Oh, yeah!" You excitedly said.

"Really?!"

"No, I just wanted to make you happy, but the baby's really not liking it," you sighed.

Seungcheol sighed, which made you feel guiltier, as he had bought all of this food, and it was nothing you were currently craving. "I'm so sorry, Cheol. Maybe I can eat something—" you were saying as you were picking up a package of sweet bread, but quickly dropped it once the smell hit your nose.

"No, you shouldn't have to force yourself to eat if you don't like it. It's not your fault our daughter might just be the pickiest eater ever. I'll just bring all of this to practice tomorrow and the guys can eat all of it," Seunghceol shrugged.

You still felt guilty, which he must've seen by the look on your face, which prompted him to grab you gently so he could give you a hug. "Maybe there's something in the fridge?" He suggested, holding your hand and using his thumb to caress the back of your hand.

You thought about it for a moment before releasing Seungcheol's hand, to which he pouted when you did and walked towards the refrigerator. You looked through the fridge, but nothing caught your eye.

Until a bright orange Tupperware lid caught your attention and you grabbed it. Once you opened it, you looked at Seungcheol sheepishly. "I found something to eat.." you said.

Seungcheol stood up walked over to you and looked at the Tupperware. "Isn't this the japchae Mingyu and Jun made?" he asked, and you nodded.

"I guess I'm gonna have to ask them to make you japchae every time you crave it. Or learn it myself,"

taglist: taglist: @belladaises @winterpaos @minhui896 @baekhyunimochibbh @x-alightinthedark @whywontyousetfree @coffeesandrains @slaveofmydreams @bmkgemz @dandycharmer @outrologist @stagefrjghts @dahliatopia @exo-saranghajaaa @uhlatcha @watermelon-sugars-things @miniminimingi @venzline @withloveyjh @lockburn-castle @userjunhuii @mypsychicpizzaworld @violetvoo @maevadobreva @soonyoungblr @baekhyunstruly @ryusol @dunixxd @minhwa @ovai @scorpiobitch88 @icyminghao @cookiehaos @duskunt1ldawn

[harryslittlefreakk]

off limits

summary: planning your brother’s birthday turns into crossing a line with his best friend. everyone say thank you @bethiegurl19 for the request!!!

wordcount: 4.5k

warnings: angst, smut (foreplay, protected sex)

a/n: back with a bang baby!!!!!

masterlist 😋🌷🫧🍒 taglist

“You’re not bringing him.”

“You can’t dictate that.”

“Yes I can.”

“No, Harry, you can’t. It’s my house, my brother, and my-.” Your voice trailed off, not knowing what you could actually call Matt. Harry knew as well as you did that he wasn’t your boyfriend, he was the man who bothered with you when his other options were busy.

“Jake doesn’t even like him,” Harry muttered, his jaw flexing as he spoke.

“Neither of you will ever like who I date while you still see me as a kid,” you shot back, standing up too fast, feeling the wine rush to your head as you turned your back on Harry. It was the fourth night you’ve gotten together to try and plan your brother‘s birthday, the fourth night Harry had fought you about Matt.

“It’s not about that. He’s an arse and everyone sees it except you.”

You rested your elbows on the counter, rubbing at your temples. “It’s not your place to see it. But fine. I won’t invite him,” you sighed, hating that you were giving in to Harry.

“Good,” Harry all but growled, downing the rest of his wine in one sip.

“And I don’t still see you as a kid,” he added, walking over to you, his hand brushing your side as he reached for a new bottle of wine. His touch was light, barely even there, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you, heat blossoming against your skin. You could feel his presence next to you, close enough that the scent of his cologne mixed with the dry oaky smell of the wine on his breath. He hesitated for the briefest second, his hand lingering near your side. But even if he had noticed the way you’d gone totally rigid, he didn’t say anything.

You moved away slightly, trying to focus on the wine splashing into the glasses in front of you, the walls of the glass stained pink from Harry’s sloppy pouring, ignoring the way your skin buzzed in the aftermath of his touch. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, your mood worse.

“You’re not even pouring it right,” you muttered, snapping at Harry before you could stop yourself.

His head turned, and you could feel his eyes on you as he straightened, the bottle still in his hand.

“Pouring it right?”, he laughed, that fucking smirk tugging at his lips. It boiled your blood.

You turned to lean your hip against the counter, grabbing the bottle from his grip.

Harry let out another low, frustrated laugh, raking a hand through his long curls as he turned towards you fully.

“Relax,” he said finally, pulling the bottle back slamming it back down on the counter. “You’ve been on my case all week. The decorations, the music – you fought me on every single thing. What, because I don’t like your little boyfriend?”

You froze as Harry stepped closer, his tense frame towering over you. His green eyes were locked on yours, sharp and darkened in his frustration.

“Tell me then. What the fuck are you even doing with a guy like Matt?” His voice was low and biting, but not teasing in the way you’d grown to expect.

Your jaw clenched, your throat dry as your hands reached behind you to grip onto the edge of the counter. “You don’t know him,” was all you managed to say.

“Yes I do, y/n. I went to school with him. Jake went to school with him. And I’ve seen enough of him to know he hasn’t changed at all,” Harry shot back, his voice rising.

“It’s none of your business! I’m old enough to make my own mistakes. I don’t need either of you to protect me anymore,” you shouted, glaring at Harry.

“You never needed our protection. But look at you! You’re trying to pick a fight because I don’t think your hook up should be at Jake’s party. Is he even worth it?”

Your stomach twisted at Harry’s words, heat flooding your cheeks. You knew what he was asking. He wanted to know if despite all of Matt’s other flaws, of which there were many, he was a good enough fuck for you to keep him around.

“It’s worth it just to piss you off,” you mumbled.

Harry ran a hand over his face, looking straight through you as he laughed. “You’ve wasted a year fucking him because it pisses me off?”

“I’m not discussing that with you.”

“Why not? Because you don’t want to admit that’s the entire reason you carried on seeing him? Or because you don’t want to admit that he isn’t even a good fuck?”

You opened your mouth to spit something back at Harry, but nothing came out. Harry clearly knew you better than you thought, and no matter how much you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t.

Your silence didn’t go unnoticed. That same irritating look of amusement was still on Harry’s face as he looked down at you.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his voice low, his eyes flickering to your lips where they lingered for just a second before snapping back to your eyes.

You hated him in that moment. For being right, for knowing you so well, for backing you into a corner you couldn’t see a way out of. But more than anything you hated how your body was reacting to him, the way his closeness made your heart race.

You wanted to punch him, to shove him out of your house and never see him again. But when your hand reached out towards Harry, it betrayed you, gripping at his t-shirt and pulling him closer rather than pushing him away.

It was all the confirmation he needed. His lips were on yours, rough and urgent, like he’d been holding himself back for weeks and finally couldn’t anymore. For a split second, you froze, your mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. But then his hands were on your waist, pulling you even closer.

You kissed him back without thinking, your hands clutching at the cotton of his t-shirt as if you needed to hold on to something to keep from falling. His body pressed against yours, his warmth searing into you, that big wall of muscle pushing against your front.

Harry groaned against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he backed you up against the counter. The edge of it pressed into your lower back, but you didn’t care. All you could care about was him - the way his lips moved against yours, the way his fingers dug into your skin, the way he tasted like wine and heat and something unmistakably Harry.

He stepped back, running a hand through his curls, his breathing uneven as his eyes darted between your face and the floor. His lips were red and swollen, and you couldn’t look at him without feeling like the world had tilted sideways. He stared at you, his eyes dark and wild, his hands still gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twitched into a smirk, though his eyes were still dark and locked onto yours. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice rough. “Didn’t seem like you minded.”

“I should go,” he said quietly after a minute, his voice hoarse and full of something you couldn’t quite place.

Your chest tightened, but you nodded, your arms wrapping around yourself in a futile attempt to fill the sudden ache his words created. “Yeah,” you said softly, avoiding his eyes. “You should.”

For a moment, he hesitated, like he was waiting for you to stop him. But you didn’t. You just stood there, rooted in place as he turned toward the door. He didn’t look back as he left, and the soft click of the door shutting behind him felt deafening.

You let out a breath, leaning back against the counter as you tried to gather your thoughts. Your lips still tingled from his kiss, your skin still warm where his hands had held you, and you hated how empty the room felt without him. You hated that you even wanted him to stay and kiss you again.

The thought hit you like a wave, but you shook it off, forcing yourself to push away the longing that crept into your chest. He was gone, and it was already messy. It didn’t need to go deeper.

But when the knock at the door came, your heart leapt into your throat, and before you could even process what you were doing, you were pulling it open.

Harry stood there, his hand braced on the doorframe, his eyes dark as they met yours. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you like he was fighting an internal battle he’d already lost.

“I couldn’t go,” he said finally, his voice rough.

You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, because he was stepping inside, kicking the door shut behind him as his hands found your waist. He pulled you to him, wrapping your legs around his hips as he pinned you against the wall, his lips finding yours with a desperate, hungry urgency that left you breathless.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered against your lips, his voice thick with frustration as his hands gripped your thighs. “You know that?”

“You’re the one who came back,” you shot back, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed you again, deeper this time.

“Yeah, because I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he growled, his lips trailing down your neck, sending a shiver racing through you. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how I’m right. Matt isn’t enough for you, is he?”

Your breath hitched, your nails scraping lightly against his scalp. “Don’t—”

You hated how easily he got under your skin, how his words hit far too close to the truth. “You’re so full of yourself,” you snapped, though your voice lacked conviction, trembling under the weight of his presence.

Harry smirked, his hands tightening on your hips as he carried you toward your bedroom, not breaking eye contact. “Maybe,” he admitted, his voice dripping with confidence. “But I’m not wrong, am I?”

You didn’t answer, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But the heat in your cheeks and the way you clung to him told him everything he needed to know.

By the time he reached your bedroom, your resolve was gone, replaced by a desperate ache in your core that only he could seem to satisfy. He laid you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours as his lips brushed against your ear.

“Let me show you how it’s supposed to feel,” he murmured, his voice rough but steady.

And as his lips found yours again, his green eyes locked onto yours for just a split second, looking at you in a way that showed you both permission and forgiveness.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Harry whispered, his words muffled against your mouth, the scent of the wine warm against your skin.

“I can handle it,” you replied, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

“Say you’ll tell me,” he repeated, firm and commanding.

“I’ll tell you,” you echoed, heat spreading through your body as he planted his hands either side of your head, caging you in.

The silver rings on his fingers caught the lone beam of moonlight streaming through the curtains, the chilled metal brushing against your skin as he moved closer still. Your gaze follow the lines of his tattoos, the dark ink curling up his forearm, disappearing under the pushed-up sleeve of his t-shirt.

Harry‘s mouth moved from yours to the curve of your neck, his lips brushing over your wild pulse with a deliberate slowness. His teeth grazed your skin, a contrast to the soft flex of his tongue as he kissed his way down, and you couldn’t stop the quiet whimper that slipped past your lips.

“Think you finally ran out of shit to say,“ he teased, his hand shifting to wrap your leg around his hip, his touch firm and possessive as he pressed himself against you.

The hardness of him against your inner thigh made your head spin, the friction of his jeans against the thin cotton of your leggings burning into you. You rolled your lower lip into your mouth, trying to suppress the moan threatening to escape as his hips rolled against yours, his cock pushing against you.

“These jeans,“ you whispered, your voice breathy as your hand slid between your bodies, tugging at their skin-tight waistband. “I hate them.”

“D’you really?” Harry asked, his voice laced with that same teasing amusement as he moved back off the bed. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure they’re driving you crazy right now.“

You glared up at him, your lips pulled into a reluctant smirk, waiting on your brain to form some sort of comeback. Instead, you pushed up onto your knees, grabbing at Harry‘s t-shirt until his lips crashed back onto yours in a kiss that was all teeth and heat and frustration.

Harry groaned into your mouth, the sound low and guttural as it echoed through you, his hands roaming over your body, sliding beneath your t-shirt. His touch left trails of fire and goosebumps in its wake, your back arching into him, your fingers curling into his hair.

“D’you want me to stop?“ he murmured against your lips.

“No,“ you breathed, your lips brushing against his before his mouth captured yours again. More insistent now, his fingers splayed across the curve of your waist. Your world was spinning with every touch, your every thought consumed by him – his taste, his scent, the way his lean frame press against yours like even an inch of empty space between you would be too much.

He let you part for just a second, just long enough to pull your shirt over your head, his eyes somehow darkening even further as they roamed the skin that had, until then, been off limits to him. His breath hitched, his fingers skimming along the soft lace of your bra. He took his time, like he wanted to memorise every inch of you.

“Even better than I imagined,” he murmured, his voice gravelly yet almost silent, as if he wasn’t saying that to you, but to himself.

Your eyebrows quirked in questioning as his eyes snapped back to yours, something dangerous in the depths of darkened greens. “More than I should’ve,” he confessed, leaning down to press his lips to the sharp angle of your collarbone. “Much more.“

His confession sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your fingers finding their way back to his hair, tugging him closer as his mouth continued down your body.

When his fingers slipped into the waistband of your leggings, he paused, pushing you softly back down onto the bed, his eyes boring into you. “I need to hear you say you want this,“ he said, pushing his free hand through his curls.

“I want this,” you breathed without hesitation. “I want you.”

That was the final confirmation he needed, his hands never leaving your skin as he stripped away the barriers between you, first the remainder of your clothes, and then his.

When he finally pulled his shirt off, you let your eyes wander over his body, drinking in the sharp lines of his torso, the way his tattoos rose and fell with his breathing. You kept your gaze on his body as he kicked off those damn jeans and his underwear, Letting yourself appreciate the soft smack of his cock against his flesh as he freed it, something your teenage self was sure to thank you for.

You felt your eyes wide and slightly as you registered his size, your breath catching in your throat.

But Harry only smirked, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time, his hand sliding under you to cut the back of your neck as his body settled over yours. His weight, his heat, the feel of his skin against yours – it was overwhelming.

“I told you he wasn’t enough for you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him once again that he was arrogant, but his hand slid between your thighs, and the words died on your tongue.

You let out a strangled gasp of his name, your head falling back into the pillows as the part of his thumb worked at your clit.

“Say it,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your jaw. “Say I’m better for you than he is.”

You wanted to fight him, to deny him and take him down a notch, but all you could do was whimper against his skin, your body arching into his touch as heat pooled in your core.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his lips trailing across all the skin they could reach, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

The roughness of his hands contrasted with the gentle touch of his movements, intoxicating and addictive as his hips ground against yours.

“You’re already so worked up for me,” he muttered, his voice almost a growl as he pushed two fingers into you. “All this time, y’just needed to be fucked right.”

“Shut up,” you managed to bite back, losing the edge to your voice as his fingers flexed against your sweet spot.

Harry chuckled, a deep, throaty laugh that sent shivers down your spine. “That’s why you get so riled up. Because every time I fight you about Matt, you’re thinking about this.”

You tried to glare at him, but the way his fingers fucked into you made it impossible to do anything but push your hips against his touch, your cheek turning to him as his lips grazed your ear.

“What do you think about, hmm? Me touching you like this?” he continued, taking your silence as confirmation.

“Harry,” you groaned, gathering a fistful of his hair as his hand stilled, his thumb pressed to your nerves.

“C’mon, kitten. Tell me,” he pressed, a commanding edge to his words that only deepened the ache in your core.

“What you’d feel like, how you’d sound. How you’d fuck m-“

You didn’t get to finish, Harry’s lips were on yours again, swallowing the rest of your words in a kiss so deep and consuming that it felt like he was pulling the life from your body. He pushed a third finger into you, his rings stone-cold against your folds, the silence punctured by breathy gasps and your wetness pushing in and out of you with his every movement.

Your breathing quickened, each stroke of Harry’s fingers building the pressure in your core. He worked at you expertly, his thumb circling your clit in a rhythm that had your skin overheating, your toes starting to curl, your hips bucking into his palm.

His name spilled from your lips like a mantra as your body tensed. Harry kept his eyes locked on you, his brows furrowed as he watched you unravel beneath him.

“Let go, love,” he murmured, his voice thick and coaxing, his fingers curling just right to hit the sweet spot that had you seeing stars.

He didn’t need to tell you twice. The tension that had built inside you snapped, a fresh wave of ecstasy crashing over you with such power that you couldn’t hold back from crying out. Your muscles tightened around his fingers as hot, pulsing waves of pleasure worked their way over your skin, leaving sharp tingles in their wake.

Harry didn’t let up, drawing out your high with slow, deliberate movements, his thumb back to pressing firmly at your clit as his fingers worked you through it.

When you finally went limp beneath him, your chest heaving, he slowly withdrew his hand, the sudden lack of touch drawing out a needy whine from your throat.

You watched through blurry eyes as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste you. A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips, an appreciative groan echoing from his throat.

You let out a shaky breath, your head spinning, your world now entirely tilted on its axis. But Harry didn’t give you much time to recover. He leaned back down, his lips brushing yours, letting you taste your sweetness on his tongue as his hand cupped your cheek.

“Not done with you yet,” he promised, his voice muffled against your lips.

“Then don’t stop,” you whispered, your mouth quirking into a smile, heart racing as he fished through his pockets for a condom.

“I’ve been patient with you,” he said, tearing the foil wrapper with his teeth as he knelt between your legs. “Not anymore.”

You swallowed hard as he rolled the condom over his cock, his length hard and heavy in his hand.

“I can handle you,” you retorted, heat flooding through you.

Harry let out a low chuckle, his nose brushing against yours as he lined himself up, his tip just barely pressing against your entrance. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

He pushed into you slowly, his hips rolling forward inch by inch. The stretch had you gasping, your hands flying to his shoulders. Harry groaned, the sound raw and guttural, his forehead falling to yours as he stilled, letting you adjust to him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice strained. “Feel so good, princess.”

Your fingernails dug into his skin as your body arched into his, trying to adjust to the overwhelming fullness of him. “Move,” you whimpered, desperate for him to do something to help ease the ache building inside you.

Harry obeyed, his hips rolling back before snapping forward again, and again, the force of his thrusts sending a jolt of pleasure through you. He moved deliberately, his pace slow and calculated, his free hand grabbing needily at the flesh of your hip.

“Look at you,” he groaned, full of awe as he watched the way your body responded to him. “Taking me so well. You were made for this.”

Your head rolled back on the pillow, your nails raking down Harry’s back as he drove into you, his pace unrelenting. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathless moans and Harry’s gravelly groans as he buried himself in you over and over again.

Every thrust brought you closer to the brink, the coil in your stomach tightening with every snap of his hips. Harry seemed to sense it, his hand sliding underneath his body, finding your clit and circling the nerves with practiced precision.

“You gonna come for me?” he asked, his teeth grazing the skin at your jaw. “Gonna let me feel you fall apart?”

Your entire body trembled as Harry’s words broke through the fog in your mind, his deep, commanding tone sending shockwaves through you. His fingers on your clit matched the rhythm of his thrusts, each movement calculated to push you further into a haze of pleasure.

“Please,” you whimpered, your hands clutching desperately at his curls.

“Wanna feel how good I make you feel,” he pressed, his lips brushing against your ear.

Your back arched off the bed as his hips slammed into yours, the angle perfect, his cock burying itself deep inside you. You howled out his name, your walls clenching and pulsing around him.

Harry groaned deeply, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he fought to maintain control.

“That’s it,” he growled. “That’s my good girl.”

He didn’t stop, his hips continuing to drive into you, his fingers on your clit prolonging your orgasm until your body shuddered from the overstimulation. You writhed and whimpered, trying to ground yourself, but Harry wasn’t done with you yet.

“You’ve got another one in you,” he whispered against your ear, his voice rough and full of intent.

“I can’t,” you whined, completely sure that you couldn’t handle more, that another orgasm might break you, but the fire in his gaze told you it wasn’t a question.

He shifted, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, your body already sensitive, but the way his cock dragged against your sweet spot had you spiraling all over again.

His fingers left your clit only to grab your other thigh, pulling you flush against him, his pace growing rougher, more desperate. “You feel that?” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “Feel how good you’re taking me? Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You could barely think, your mind foggy with pleasure as the pressure built inside you again, faster and harder this time. Harry’s lips found yours, swallowing your moans, his movements growing erratic as he chased his own release.

“Come with me,” he urged, his forehead pressing against yours, his voice barely more than a breath. “Come with me, kitten. Let me feel you.”

And then you were falling again, your body clenching around him as another orgasm ripped through you, white-hot and all-consuming. Harry followed just a second later, his groan low and guttural as he buried himself deep, his body trembling as he spilled into you.

The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, your bodies tangled together as you both came down from the high. Harry’s weight pressed against you, grounding you, his lips ghosting over your temple in a surprisingly tender gesture.

“You okay?” he asked after a moment, his voice softer now, full of concern as he brushed your damp hair away from your face.

You nodded, still catching your breath, your lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. “More than okay.”

Harry chuckled, the sound warm and comforting as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Good,” he murmured, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your cheek. “Still think I’m full of myself?”

You shook your head, “no. Just thinking about me being full of you,” you grinned, biting down on your lip.

He cupped the back of your head, rolling onto his back and bringing you with him, holding you flush to his body. “I think your brother might kill me,” he whispered, a nervous edge to his usually steady voice.

[starlightsalvatore]

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

i'm back !!! I needed to write a damon one-shot while I work on a new fic and this just tumbled right out of me lol

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: everything??? drinking, swearing, blood sharing, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p-in-v, a tiny bit of degradation?? this is self indulgant filth, seriously 18+ mdni

You ran a hand through your hair as you walked back and forth, unsure of what else to do with the restless energy surging through your system as you tried to fight one of your most basic, primal urges… hunger. Your fingers drummed against your thigh as you tried to focus on anything else, find something in your brain worth occupying your mind and switching course from the visuals running through your head. Your recent transition had been a shock to everyone, and Stefan had you on a tight leash to keep you in check… and you’d been on board, at first. You never wanted to cause harm, to be the reason someone else’s life ended, but with the itch in your veins threatening to undo you completely you couldn’t really find it in you to care anymore.

You heard your door push open and your head snapped up to see Damon walking in, two glasses and a bottle in his hand with an unamused expression, “if you don’t knock it off I’m going to have to replace the floor,” he said, setting everything on the dresser before pouring two generous cups of bourbon. 

“Not now, Damon,” you sighed, ignoring him entirely as your feet remained on course.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked and you shook your head.

“Not really,” you said as he shoved a glass in your hand, his eyes telling you to drink which you did… all in one gulp and he was a little surprised as he took it to refill. 

“Well, something’s gotta give,” he replied as you finished the second as quickly as the first. “At this rate the bottle will be gone in a minute and I’m not replacing original flooring.” He gripped your shoulders, halting your movements and you huffed, looking up at him.

“I’m hungry, Damon,” you said, as if it pained you to do so and he furrowed his brow.

“The freezer is full- oh,” he cut himself off, realizing that’s not what you meant as a smirk spread across his features. “You want your blood at 98.6,” he said and you rolled your eyes, pushing him off you.

“Will you cut it out?” You poured another glass, hoping at some point the alcohol would subdue your cravings but you knew that was about as likely as him leaving you alone, so you tried another angle. “I can’t… Damon, the blood bags aren’t doing it for me, I can’t think, I can’t sleep… will you please take me out?” For a moment you thought he’d say yes, revel in the opportunity to feed with abandon with someone else, but it wasn’t that easy.

“No can do, sweetheart,” he replied and your brows pinched. “I’ve got enough on my plate without you losing control and giving me more bodies to deal with.” He was right, there was too much going on and you spinning out wasn’t an option, but that didn’t make it any easier of an answer to tolerate. He gave you a once over, it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to take you out… he would have loved to, but you were new and he knew you could eventually get to where he was, one day you’d be able to feed and leave them alive with no memory of what had happened, but that day wasn’t today, you had a long way to go and he couldn’t afford to have you slip up.

But… he couldn’t afford to have you slip up. One look told him you were wound tight, the diet Stefan had you on was restrictive, never enough to fully satisfy, and the less you drank the tighter you spun, threatening a catastrophic snap he could only assume was looming on the horizon with how frustrated you looked right now. He ran through his options, knowing letting you sit in this hunger any longer would result in a much bigger problem, but the only thing he could think of posed another set of issues and would lead to him teetering on the edge instead of you.

He let out a sigh, closing the distance between you and plucking the glass from your hands to discard on the dresser and you looked up at him questioningly, the invasion of space catching you by surprise. His normally bright eyes were dark and swimming with something you couldn’t understand, deep blue pools you found yourself getting lost in as you waited for him to say something. “You need to feed,” he said and your eyes fluttered shut just at the thought.

“I need to feed,” you whispered and he nodded, catching your chin between his fingers and forcing your head back up when you tried to look down and the action had your breath catching somewhere in your throat. 

“You still haven’t felt it, have you?” he asked, voice low and you shuddered. “What it’s like to sink your teeth into something…” you shook your head, Stefan hadn’t allowed you to drink anything that didn’t come from a cup. “Poor thing,” he chuckled, he could feel the tension radiating off you in waves, you were practically shaking beneath him as you fought to retain your grip on your sanity, on your control.

“Damon,” you sighed, eyes pleading and he just smiled as he gripped your hand and brought it up to his neck, the pulse beneath your fingers driving you wild. 

“When you feed you have to be careful… if you bite just along here,” he said, dragging your fingers along the vein, “you can control the flow. It doesn’t have to be messy,” he explained and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the subtle way his skin moved with each beat of his heart, the sight bringing the veins beneath your eyes to the surface, your fangs descending.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, noticing you trying to rein it in, and you were having a hard time focusing on anything with the way his hands were trailing up your arms, pulling you closer. “Go on,” he tilted his head just slightly, “give it a try.” he encouraged and this pulled your focus, eyes snapping to his as you tried to ascertain if he was being serious. You had a lot left to learn, but blood sharing was personal, and you knew that… but all you saw in those dark blue eyes was a fire simmering beneath the surface you were sure was a mirror image of your own.

You slowly reached onto your tiptoes, as if he were a deer in the woods threatening to startle and bolt, but the closer you got the harder it was to resist, anticipation burning through your veins at the prospect of giving in. Your fangs were tentative as they broke the skin just where he’d indicated, but the first drop of blood immediately made you feel dizzy and intoxicated… It wasn't enough. You quickly grew feverish, your hand wrapping around his throat as you surged forward, crashing into the wall behind you and he let out a grunt as his back collided with the hard surface, pinned in place as you fed.

“There you go… that’s it,” he said, leaning back as he relaxed and let you take what you needed. His arm snaked around your waist while a hand brushed the hair from your face, cradling the back of your head as warm blood radiated through your body. A soft groan fell from his lips as you drank from him, and the sound elicited an unexpected reaction from you, your hand tightening around his throat and your body pushing flush against his and despite everything in you telling you to continue, you forced yourself back knowing if you didn’t stop you’d bleed him dry. 

Your eyes were wild and satisfied as they met his, and he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, collecting the remnants and you were almost surprised when your lips wrapped around him, ensuring you didn’t waste a single drop. His smirk returned when he felt your tongue slide across his skin, “better?” he asked and you nodded, keeping him in your mouth for maybe a second longer than you needed to. The air was charged between you, you’d just crossed a line in the sand and you wanted to push a little further, go a little farther… 

Part of him knew he should put an end to this… stop before it went any further. He knew it before he’d even offered up a vein for you, he knew as soon as he did he’d be teetering on this ledge and he didn’t have that much self control when it came to you. Perhaps, if he really analyzed the situation, he knew somewhere in the back of his mind why you’d been so worked up, he knew what you needed and instead of letting you wreak havoc on the blood cooler he let you push him against a wall and take what you wanted, he let you feed from him in the most intimate way he could think of. 

And when you were looking up at him like that, eyes mischievous and holding an unspoken challenge with his blood still on your plump lips, who was he to resist? Your chest was heaving with anticipation as you waited for him to do something, anything, and the movement was so fast you almost didn’t register his hand curling around your throat, flipping you around and slamming you against the wall with such force you were sure you’d be dead if you were human. Your gasp of surprise was swallowed by his mouth on yours, searing and frenzied as he connected your lips and kissed you with a hunger that rivaled your own only moments ago. 

You both fought for dominance, neither one of you willing to submit just yet but you were outmatched… he grabbed your wandering hands and pinned them above your head, grip so tight you whined as he kissed down your neck, biting into you the same way you’d done with him and you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips as he did. Your hips rolled forward and feeling his hardening length against you gave you the surge of confidence you needed to break your hands free, sliding down his chest to pull his shirt apart, buttons flying and clattering against the floor as you pushed the fabric over his shoulders. 

His lips were greedy across the expanse of your chest as he nipped and sucked the soft skin, tearing your shirt to shreds as he pulled it from you, a mess of fabric in your wake as you surged forward and pushed him into the wall opposite you, regaining your upper hand. Glass shattered on the floor around you as the force rattled the dresser but you couldn’t find it in you to care what had broken as your hands pulled his belt free, fingers quickly undoing the button as you sank to the floor and pulled his jeans with you.

His length stood erect in front of you and you were quick to take him in your mouth, focusing your tongue on his swollen tip as your hand worked what didn’t fit, and you couldn’t help but moan around him at the groan that fell from his lips, “such a good girl,” he cooed, his sweet words undercut by the harsh hand in your hair gripping and pulling you closer, forcing you to gag around him and the sensation had his head falling back against the wall. Tears sprung to your eyes at the sharp pain in your scalp and the way he was hitting the back of your throat, but all you could focus on was the throbbing between your thighs and he didn’t miss the way you clenched them together, desperate for friction. 

You were quickly on your back, too caught up in the moment to bother moving to the bed and you pushed glass aside as he settled between your legs, tearing your underwear off and diving in like a man starved and you could feel his smirk against you at your surprised moan, head hitting the floor as your back arched in pleasure. He switched between your clit and your entrance, not giving either attention long enough to give you what you really needed, and you whined as your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging harshly.

“Damon, please,” you sighed, hips bucking against his face and he focused his attention on your sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue expertly working you up as you shamelessly moaned his name. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew with the way you kept slamming each other against walls and the floor, the breaking glass, and the sounds falling from both your lips someone might come to make sure you were alright, but you couldn’t find it in you to care… not when he felt as good as he did between your legs. 

Your moan changed in pitch when he slid two fingers into your entrance and it went straight to his cock, his head swimming as he watched you come close to falling apart above him. When he crooked his fingers just so your grip in his hair tightened, pulling him closer as you started to grind against him, “fuck, just like-” you were cut off by your own moan when he started massaging that spot inside you, legs trembling as you careened off the ledge. His touches remained merciless as pure euphoria surged through your veins, your head cloudy as your body trembled. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered against you, kissing his way up your body and you tugged him closer to reconnect your lips, tongues swirling against each other as you tasted yourself on him. His hands felt greedy and possessive as they roamed over you, gripping tight enough to leave bruises that would heal before they even had a chance to form, and it was as if neither of you could get enough. You pushed forward, tugging him up with you and all but throwing him onto the bed and his smirk was devilish as he watched you crawl on top of him.

He looked like he was about to say something but you didn’t give him the opportunity as you kissed him, rough and demanding as your hips settled above his, hand reaching between you to line him up at your entrance and you both let out groans as you took him inch by inch. The stretch was sweet, filling you almost to your breaking point as you settled fully and started to roll your hips against him, shuddering at the feeling.

“Fuck,” he moaned as you started to bounce up and down, setting an unforgiving pace and you felt like you could feel him everywhere, every nerve ending radiating with fire. He sat up to wrap his arms around you, hips bucking to meet yours in a way that had your head rolling back and he took the opportunity to sink his teeth into your neck and you had never felt pleasure like this before. His hand was firm around your throat as your body shook with each thrust and soon you were boneless in his lap, only able to hold yourself upright as he drank you in. 

When he pulled back you licked along his lips, face changing at the taste of blood and he swore he’d never seen anything sexier. Neither of you was going to last much longer, not like this, and he delivered a rough smack to your ass that had you whining and rolling against him. “Oh my god,” you breathed out, letting your forehead fall against his and he smacked again, gripping the tender skin, “Damon-” you tried, but nothing would come out.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he teased, gripping your hair and pulling you back to look at him, “oh, look at you… all cock drunk and fucked out,” he teased and you had nothing to say as a firm thrust had you seeing stars. You buried your face in his neck, fangs sinking into his skin as you felt your release barreling towards you, the mixture of blood and his steady thrusts too much to bear and a streak of red trailed down your body as you came, only able to shout his name as you cried out.

Your grip on him was maddening, pulling him right over the edge with you as you milked him for everything he had, and when you both slowed to a stop you were having a hard time catching your breath, your mind floating somewhere above you as you tried to return to your body. You felt his tongue along your chest, cleaning up your mess as you leaned back and he tried to commit the sight to memory… your hair wild, cheeks flushed, and skin dewy as blood lingered along your skin. 

You still weren’t fully with him, stuck in a haze as you felt him whisk you into his bedroom, and into the bathroom and it wasn’t until you were under the stream of water with him that you hummed contently against his lips as he kissed you softly, “there she is,” he chuckled.

His hands were delicate as they roamed you, and yours slid down the front of his chest as you looked up at him, doe eyed and happy. “That was…” you trailed off, unsure of what word to use to fully sum it up and he placed another soft kiss on your lips.

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” he provided and you laughed as you swatted his chest. 

“Hush,” you replied, feigning annoyance but you didn’t have it in you to feel anything other than bliss. The rest of your shower was spent with wandering hands and sweet kisses, a stark contrast to how rough and domineering you’d been with each other and when he pulled you into bed and wrapped himself around you, you looked up at him as your fingers trailed along his chest absentmindedly.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, and you flushed slightly under his gaze.

“It was more than I dreamed of,” you answered, and he raised a brow in question. “I haven’t… I hadn’t done that since turning, I didn’t know it could be like that,” you explained and realization passed over his features.

“My god,” he chuckled, “no wonder you were wound so tight.” His hand on your back was comfortable, holding you tight against him as he rubbed soothingly, “we’ll go on a little trip this weekend,” he said as you rested your head on his chest.

“A trip?” 

You felt him nod, “away from all the chaos here… we’ll find you some warm bodies and I’ll teach you how to do it the right way, you don’t have to live a life of blood bags forever.” 

“I don’t know, you seemed to do the trick,” you teased and he laughed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re missing.” 

[bunny-jpeg]

heart-pounding satisfaction

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, teammates au, driver!reader, mean!reader, (implied) sub!max, reader is a bitch (affectionate), mean & degrading language (also dirty talk), face sitting/masturbation

a/n: i can imagine fans hating the reader for being so vocal, especially towards max, but in the world of formula one, it's do or die. i need these fuckers to get nasty!! this fic is also nasty as hell, don't look at me....

max had fucking lost it. he was convinced he had lost it. you two had been teammates for close to six months now. three months of off season, three months of the twenty-twenty-five season. and you drove him up the wall.

this was a teammate up in the making, red bull's savior, their prince and the princess plucked from haas and placed in a car next to him. it should all be roses, singing birds and happily ever after.

but you couldn't be more disinterested him. almost hostile. as you said to the press, "i am here to win. i respect max's previous teammates, but i won't fumble because someone needs a fifth title." not even glancing over at your teammate.

after that, other women felt boring. any city on the globe, he could easily find a lovely lady for the evening. someone to spoil with orgasms and a rocking bed, a tale for her to tell her friends the following afternoon. but lately it had felt like the only thing that got him excited was you. when you were mean.

it had been a long time since someone was mean to him. aside from comments online or snide comments from other drivers. everyone knew he was in charge, and his teammate should be second on command. but you had zero interest in that. he hadn't complained, and instead played along with the niceties of teamsmanship. he only did it because he didn't want it to stop.

he liked it, he liked it a lot.

and while max was in a self inflicted dry spell. you were taking a liking to the new found fame you've acquired. max had gone to get you from the hotel room a few times and every time a man had sheepishly left your hotel room.

"sorry, mate." they'd often say. that or, "holy shit, it's max verstappen." and only scurry off when max glared at them. willing to give these guys some action, but not your teammate? cruel woman.

regardless, he let your words tumble off your tongue. venom that turned into honey in his brain. the more you spoke, the more he wanted to jerk off. you had ruined him without a second touch.

as you lazily held the trophy for the canadian grand prix in your hand on the way back to the hotel in montreal. you leaned up against the wall of the elevator and laughed, "fourth, verstappen." your tone mocking, "i'm pretty sure if you were less of a bastard on the second turn you could've given stroll the podium he wants. he could've over taken piastri... you could've as well, but you've become comfortable."

max swallowed and the elevator door opened. he didn't exit until you did first. you reached around him and pulled him close to you. you looked marginally up at him and he said, "i...i'll win next time." he could already feel the red in his face.

you laughed, "sure, sure, verstappen. why, is daddy coming to visit?" you gave him a mocking look. you acted like you weren't heavily scarred with your own daddy issues. you at least had the option to never mention the man who pushed you until you broke through any barriers to get into f1.

he hated that he was getting aroused. that he could feel the spike in his soul as his heart skipped a beat. it could be cute if another woman was mean to him. but when you did it, it blew a fuse in his mind.

you laughed and looked at him, "you gotta get over it one day, max. if you don't that fucking bastard is going to outlive you." there was a moment of honesty, "if i want to beat you, i'd like you alive." then squeezed him for a moment more.

he swallowed then asked, "do you hate me that much?"

you pulled away and stalled in your step for a moment, you collected yourself quickly and said, "no... as much as you'd love to hear it. i don't hate you." you looked at him briefly, "you love being the villain. the lion, mad max, whatever else they call you. i'm just giving them the drama they want." you looked at the trophy, "beating you is just half the fun." you went to open the door to your room and max pressed himself up against you which made you drop the trophy and get squished between his solid body and the harder door.

"be mean to me. fuck... be fucking nasty with it." the words poured from his mouth, "just, be brutal." he swallowed, "but please, just give me a taste of you. i hate those bastards that get to fuck you every weekend. get to feel and taste you." he pressed you further, "give me a hard time and let me have my way with you."

you exhaled deeply and felt a quickening of you heart rate. you were quick to respond, "well then, verstrappen. why don't you make yourself useful and help me get my key out."

you could already hear the cheering in max's head as he helped you open the door. that you only assumed grew louder when you two started kissing. your arms wrapped around him as you got into the room backwards, your trophy left behind in the hallway. almost tripped over your shoes, but clothes were of little issue once max got your red bull branded t-shirt of you.

clothes tossed variously throughout the room before you two ended up in bed together. you rank your fingers down his chest and exhaled deeply. "you're a pain in my side, max. from the moment i met you. you were always the golden boy, the champion. god's gift to racing." you pinned him down on the bed and he shuddered.

"k..keep going." the heat was high in his face. he could feel the stagger of his heartbeat. it felt good. your words sounded like heaven, but yet it sank him down to the pits of hell.

"oh my god, you're pathetic! do you hear yourself, max? four championships and you're still chasing a prize that you'll never get." you straddled his chest and put your hands on his jaw. you looked down to stare in his eyes, "but yet you live in my head rent-free."

he exhaled, "imagine what you do to me." grabbed your hips and pushed your cunt over his mouth and nose. he gripped your ass and pressed your sex against his face and groaned loudly.

you had to brace yourself with your hands so you didn't go nose-first into the wall. his pace was brutal on you, his licks were sloppy. he was messy with his movements in a desperate attempt to bring you pleasure.

he was less like a lion and more like a desperate dog. you moaned loudly and held your position against the wall as he desperately ate you out. like a man starved.

you really had burrowed into his brain and invade every empty space in his skull until his thoughts were swamped with you.

"jerk yourself off, you useless idiot." you spat, "you're so used to girls getting you off. if you want to get off, you actually have to work for it. can you do that? actually work hard for something." you clenched your thighs around his head.

max kept one hand on your hip and the other around his leaky, achy cock. he groaned as he pleasure himself. it was hot, to see a sort of moral collapse on a four time world champion. that even a man with power, could be reduced to a moaning slut. you wondered how wet you could get lips.

if your wetness could stain his mouth as he made pleasure shoot through your body. you held onto the wall with one hand and a his short blond hair with the other. you shuddered and felt your nipples grow hard, "this feels fucking wrong." you yanked on his hair which only made him jerk himself off faster, "you have driven me crazy. everything you fucking hard, most would kill for. i at least want to give you a run for your money. actually make the wins feel real, because when i take over. when i beat you, it'll only make the victory sweeter." you arched your back a little more and moaned loudly.

the movements only continued and you felt the pleasure course up your body. the heat in your breathing as you closed your eyes for a moment to compose yourself. you croaked out through an intense feeling of pleasure, "fuck, max. i didn't know honestly that you got off to it." you panted heavily, "if i knew, i would've been nicer. but knowing your perverted ass, you would've gotten off to it. you would've loved if i was gentle and mean to you. a firm yet cuddly hand." you let out a sharp exhale and a small moan.

max would easily admit that any attention from you would go right to his cock. he continued to tease the blunt head as he orally pleasured you. the feeling of your thighs on his face and head. your pussy right up to his mouth and nose. he could feel the lack of oxygen, but it only increased the pleasure in his body. he felt like a live wire, he felt like a hurricane. it was an intense feeling that pounded in his chest. it left him sexually starving, a lion without a feast as he devoured you. and the way you tugged on his hair only drove him more mad.

"you love being used like that. hoping that i'll give you praise one day. but you're just a stupid, stupid boy. a toothless lion, a failure to your country. and your fucking family. you're a failure to me and that stupid trophy we left outside was evidence of that. do better, be better and maybe you'll be someone worth being on the same track at me." your words laced with venom, but held heavy sexual want as the pleasure continued to course through your body. your chest heaved and your pulse pounded. it felt hot, you felt hot. it was erotic in a way that would make most disgusted.

how dare the world champion be used like for your sexual gratification. while he pathetically jerked himself off. you allowed him to breathe out of his nose and his pants were heavily as air allowed blood to be pumped to somewhere other than his cock.

you hissed through a tense jaw as he continued to orally pleasure you, "you deserve to be some low-level job. get off the track and make yourself useful by picking trash off the stands." it only made him jerk his cock off harder. you panted heavily as the words tumbled out as pleasure near hit its peak, "get out of my way, i refuse to be second fiddle to you. i refuse to be in your shadow." you clenched your thighs around him tighter, "i am better than you, max verstappen." your voice toxic.

but yet, it made max cum all over himself. he groaned loudly and panted against your cunt as he continued to stroke himself to overstimulation while he continued to lap at your cunt hungrily. max had lost it, he had officially lost it.

it was the most erotic thing that he had ever been a part of. and years and years of a life like this had made him experience many interesting things. this topped everything. you groaned once more and felt the pleasure curl up inside of you.

it was becoming too much, with one more slew on words, "you cum to me calling you weak.. huh? interesting. i guess the great max verstappen is weak just like every other man. why call you a god of racing when i can make you whine and beg like a dog." you coursed under your breath. and then you came. you admitted to yourself, it was the closest to heaven you had ever be. damn max verstappen, damn him. you slowed your pace down and got fully off of his face before you got into bed.

he wiped his face with his hand and tried to go in for a kiss, but you put a hand over his mouth. you looked at him dead in the eyes. he looked at you quizzically.

"oh, you're not shutting me up until i can make you squirm with my words, verstappen. now get yourself hard again, i'm not done with you." <3

[daenysx]

tangerine x fem!reader, fluff/comfort ♡

-tangerine has this habit of crawling back to you.

cw; soft!tangerine, this man yearns and he's not ashamed of that, tangerine being a bit dramatic, exes to lovers (?), title is from do i wanna know by arctic monkeys, kissing many many times, my first time writing for him- please let me know what you think

wc; 1.5k

CRAWLIN' BACK TO YOU

It's not healthy to do this every night, is it?

No, because Tangerine doesn't know how to stop and it bothers him. It bothers him more than Lemon's insistent talks about Thomas the Tank Engine, so this is serious. He's a strong man, but- you sigh in content and he's glad to be witnessing this.

He really should stop watching you sleep.

You look peaceful like this. Happy, blissfully unconscious. Your pretty lips let out tiny breaths and he swears he will collapse. Something squeezes his poor heart. He wants to be closer, you look warm but are you really warm? He wants to drag his fingers on your skin, to touch you like he used to. Stained fingers, red with blood. He washed them before coming here, but it doesn't matter. He'll never be pure enough to touch you.

"Pretty girl," he whispers in the dark. You don't hear him. He gets encouraged by that.

He takes a hesitant step towards your bed.

"Look at you, sleeping so deep," Tangerine whispers again. "Always in peace when I'm not here, aren't you?"

Technically he is here, but you don't know that, and that's all he cares. He doesn't try to be a creep, he's just in love. He swears this is the only reason why he keeps coming back to his ex's apartment. He promises this is the only reason why he lies to his brother as he crawls back to you.

His fingers ache to reach out and touch you.

If he could be a better man, he'd be in your arms right now. He'd be kissing your collarbones and his rings would collide nicely with the soft fabric of your tank top. He's a coward, really. He's glad you're the only one who knows this side of him. It would be terrible for his job options otherwise.

You take another breath. Tangerine watches the softness of your cheeks move when you curl your lips in your sleep. You must be dreaming. He hopes you see him being good for you in your dream. Being the man he never could be in reality.

He really should stop using the keys you gave him months ago.

"I wish I could be-" he starts saying some stupid shit again. Oh, come on. He rolls his eyes at himself. "Pathetic. I'm being pathetic."

"You really are," you turn to your side. Fuck. Tangerine flinches.

"Wha- Fuck me-" he takes a step back. You were sleeping two seconds ago. He's shy all of a sudden as if he's not the man who keeps coming back to his ex after breaking up with her by saying 'you deserve better, love'.

You blink, looking so exhausted as you do that. Leaning on your elbows, you look up to him. His hair is messed up, his blue eyes are wide open. It's a good look on him. Objectively.

"You really did think I wasn't aware of you coming back here every night, didn't you?"

"Um- then why did you-"

"You really are being pathetic, Tangerine," you say. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"No, of course not-"

"I know you still have the keys," you say. "I knew you'd use them at some point, you never offered to give them back."

Tangerine finally manages to close his mouth. Clever girl, aren't you? He feels poorly, now that he can't call you his.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asks.

You blink a few times. "I waited for you to say something first."

"Sorry to disappoint, love," he says, genuine this time. "I've been acting too cowardly around you."

You sigh, you really want to sleep. You wish he could just stop with this pity party and come to bed. Silent promises ring in your head, you want him back. He kept saying he's doing it for you, breaking up because he doesn't want you to get hurt. He swears even telling you what he does for living was the toughest shit he'd ever gone through. Who wants a guy like him anyway?

"Will you please- come here? Let's just talk about this in the morning, I'm so tired."

He blinks a few times. You have a death wish, don't you? Why the hell would you want him to get close if you don't?

"It's 'cause I know you still love me," you answer. Shit, he asked it out loud. "I know you're trying to make a stupid decision for both of us, still, but tonight I want none of that. Come here."

You pat the empty spot next to you and Tangerine obeys. He has no choice, his entire body feels like it's on fire with the distance between you. He takes off his suit jacket, lets himself be bare in front of you just like how you always want him. No unnecessary clothes in bed, you once said. I want to know you're here.

He lies next to you hesitantly. For a brave man, he's acting pretty fearful tonight. You wrap your arm around his chest, your fingers touch his skin as you draw a small circle right there.

Tangerine takes a breath. It's good, being here. He finally feels like he's where he belongs. You snuggle closer to him, always the bold one in the relationship. Many would expect it to be different, he knows, but he feels entirely yours and this is something he can't explain. He'd let you do anything you want, if you want to cuddle him, kiss him in public, or snuggle to his chest like a cat, so be it. He wraps an arm around you.

"Oh," he breathes. You smell wonderful. "My girl."

Fuck, he missed this. He melts right there, how can he be stupid enough to let you go? He turns to his side to hold you better, you put your head to the curve of his neck. His cologne hits you like an old memory, but that's nonsense. You never let him go.

"Missed this," he says. "Missed you."

"You're an idiot."

"That's what I am."

You tangle your legs with his, he kisses his way on your neck all the way to your shoulder. You close your eyes, let yourself be okay now that he's here. He can finally admit that he never left, he couldn't do that if he tried. He yearns for this, for every bit of affection he can have.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. He doesn't think he can wait until the morning to tell you this. You must know how sorry he is for even trying to go out of your life, how desperate he's been since the day he told you he wants to break up. How angry he made Lemon (even Lemon) because he's been a restless bastard and he doesn't even know what he's doing. "I'm so sorry."

You lift your head to see his eyes. Under the soft moonlight in your room, they sparkle. Just a deep blue, you've always loved his eyes. He's genuine and he's only a man. He looks like he can beg for forgiveness on his knees.

"It's okay," you say gently. No need for arguments, the bed is warm and he's here. You'll find the right time to talk about this. For now, though, you choose to put your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

Tangerine kisses your head. You like having shower before bed and he can smell your shampoo. He holds your hand under the covers and slides his hips to get closer to you. The pillows are soft and inviting beneath his head, he closes his eyes.

"Will you stay for breakfast?" you ask. He can stay forever if you want. Fuck, yearning turned him into a fucking romantic.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks instead.

"Yes," you reply, getting closer to his pulse point. You put a small kiss on the tiny spot under his ear. He lets out a quiet hiss when you bite there playfully.

"Or maybe I should crawl back here with flowers in my hand," he says, adjusting his neck to give you more space to kiss. He can feel you smile against him.

"You really should," you tell him. "Later. Not tomorrow."

Your sound unsure. Hesitant with your loving as if he scared you. He did, though, didn't he? Tangerine is a man of sin and he really needs to atone for some of them.

"I'm not gonna leave," he promises. "Not again."

You nod, his loving girl. You could give him hell, but you're exhausted. He tightens his arm around you and lets you settle down on him.

Your breath is nice to feel against his neck. Tangerine relaxes. You fall asleep in the next minute or so, he isn't sure when. He just knows that this feels like home, and he'd been the biggest fool in the history for trying to leave it as if he actually could. He has to get you those flowers just as soon as he can.

[bluetimeombre]

: ̗̀➛ Call it what you want to

You're an up-coming star, staring in some hit movies like Hunger games Ballad of songbirds and snakes and now Wonka, along the Timothee Chalamet.

[i'm obsessed with my man and just need to ignore the fact he's dating someone that isn't me. anyway, you're an up-coming actress who stared in the new hunger games movie and now you're also staring in wonka, the people love you and maybe, so does a co-star of yours] not proof read. this was very fun to write so maybe i'll do more, if anyone likes it. or just for me

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... tayrussell, joshandresrivera, tomblyth, sadiesink_, tchalamet & others

yourusername: wonka press tour starts now!

809k likes. 304k comments

user: wait, you're in wonka?!

user: I LOVE YOU!!

user: mother giving us content, as always

tchalamet: now you've posted can you come up and help me

yourusername: no

tchalamet: pls!!!

user: omg she really said no to timothee chalamet, who does she thin she is?

user: slayyyy

user: isn't wonka supposed to suck

tomblyth: from one press tour to another, i see

yourusername: girls got to earn a living

tomblyth: she doesn't let the grass grow

user: say hi to timothee for me!!!!

user: omg how is she getting all the hottest guys in hollywood rn? gurl leave some for us

wonkamovie: 😍😍

balladofsongbirdsandsnakes: 😍😍😍

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

you were flicking through comments by your friends when your phone started to ring, the familiar picture of your co-star flicking up on your phone. quickly, you dimissed yourself from your assistant and took the call. 'yes?'

'I need your help.'

'Timothee, you're old enough to zip up your own jacket,' you tease, leaning on the wall.

'I don't know what jumper to wear, what are you wearing? we'll coordinate.'

you'd opted for something of your own style. a jumper with pinks and blues and a white flowering skirt with a ring almost on every finger. this was only your second big press tour and sitting next to timothee chalamet every day for it was enough to make you nervous. so nervous you woke every morning wondering if you'd throw up. it didn't help you were also surrounded by others you'd looked up to, like olivia coleman and hugh grant. how were you supposed to keep your cool for months. even if now you were considered just as big a star.

'don't you have a stylist for this?' you ask, looking at the crew around, ready to go but waiting for him.

'there's three options and i don't know which one to go for. can't you just come up.'

you could, sure. go to timothee's hotel room and see him probably shirtless. once you'd have dreamt of it, but things were different, now you just didn't have a silly celebrity crush. now he was your co-star and very off limits.

'option two now come on, please.' quickly, you end the call and pick up your coffee, heading to the room where you'd be sat for the next eight hours answering questions with timothee.

you were there first, shaking hands with the interviewer and introducing yourself to her. you took your seat, making little chatter before timothee chalamet walked in, calm, cool and collected. completely different to your flushed and smiling expression.

you watched as he quickly said hello to everyone in the room and greeted the lady who'd be conducting the interview.

timothee turned to you, arms out wide and waiting. laughing, you put your coffee down and stood up, giving him a hug. you shared small pleasantries before he took his seat next to you, shuffling around and settling in. only then did you realise how much your jumpers looked the same, both smudges of similar colours. you blushed more as timothee watched, silently wondering what could make you so red. as if he had no idea what he did to you just by sitting down next to him.

'I have had scrub scrub stuck in my head since seeing the movie,' she- charline, said as you and timothee laugh. 'do you guys have a favourite song you got to perform?'

'I mean, pure imagination was quite a surreal experience. you know, getting to sing something that was so ... iconic, it was-it was a lot of fun. and a lot of pressure, but, in a good way,' said timothee.

'you killed it,' you assure, casually.

'thank you,' he smiled.

'i really enjoyed you've never had chocolate like this number. that was just so fun, the dancing and all,' you say, timothee nodding and agreeing.

'for a moment was fun to, i guess,' added timothee. 'we got to dance.'

you grin at the memory. 'we did.' you remembered the a million takes, timothee singing practically to you while prancing around. it was your favourite scene to shoot because it was such an easy and happy scene. you didn't have to think about it, just held timmy's hand as he twirled you around the place.

'and i know we're here to talk about wonka but i just have to say-' she gestured to you, 'congratulations on hunger games, biggest movie in the world.'

you wave her off, thanking her as timmy claps for you. 'thank you, thank you.'

'i was wondering what was your favourite song to film there on that set and how does it compare to singing on this one.'

ranting about yourself or your achievements was always hard for you. your stardom and come so quickly with hunger games and wonka, so much so you felt like you didn't deserve half of it.

'i mean, for hunger games it was all live. i sang them there and then so that's daunting in itself, um. i loved filming pure as the driven snow, just because i got to- essentially- sing it to tom. it was just him and me and the crew, like for those shots there was no extra's so that was great fun. a special moment. and singing it to him made it a whole lot easier. whereas on this movie, luckily it was all like pre-recorded so, not so daunting. didn't have to sing in front of timothee chalamet,' you say.

he listened carefully to you, seeing your smile at mentioning tom blyth, your co-star from the hunger games. he'd never met the guy, he was probably lovely- from the amount you talked about him. 'you've got a great singing voice.'

'thanks man.'

'this cast is just so insane and obviously you two got close during filming,' says charline, gesturing to the two of you.

timothee nudged you with his head, like he'd done a thousand times before knowing how much you secretly loved it. just like a horse, as had been quoted.

'who's more british, olivia or hugh?'

'hugh, easily,' you say. you loved all of hugh's movies, but you'd never say that to his face.

'you know, i'm gonna go and say you,' says timothee, turning to you.

you drop you jaw, pointing to yourself. yes, you were british, but more so than than the hugh grant seemed impossible. 'me?'

'yea, i mean, hugh grant is like a walking union jack- and i mean that in the best way possible, but you seem so much more like british. you know, wicked sense of humor and the charm and- you love london,' he pointed out.

'i do love london,' you agreed.

'did you have fun filming in england, timothee?' she asked.

they want on and on to talk about filming the movie, answering questions in depth and it was sure the two of you had great answers, listening intently together and everyone could tell. your chemistry was there, your smiles and answers together were almost so perfect it was like it was practiced and the fans ate it up!

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... zendaya, mtv, kyliejenner, yourusername, wbpictures & others

tchamalmet: WONKA!!! coming soon

tagged: yourusername

1.1m likes, 609k comments

user: he posted! he posted!

user: we are getting FED

user: i just know this is all yourusername influence

user: not kylie liking...

user: statistics! statistics!

liked by yourusername

yourusername: bring back little timmy tim!

yourusername: out of all the pictures you chose that one

user: anyone else think her and timmy are getting too close

user: like fr she stealin my man

user: i love them!!!

user: i swear something is going on with her and tom blyth

user: she's just like us!

user: LOVE!!!!!

user: her and timmy >>> him and kylie

user: plssss, i love kylie

user: is wonka a musical

user: TIMMY I WANT TO HAVE YOUR CHILDREN!!!

user: fave bob dylan song?

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... tomblyth, rachelzeglar, tchalamet, hunterschafer, zendaya & others

yourusername: ballad of song birds and snakes is number one movie? more like i'm the number one most grateful person out there for this chance and being trusted with my girl lucy-grey!!! thank you, thank you, thank you!!

tagged: tomblyth

1m likes 477k comments

tomblyth: lots of love my dear !

user: pls the second picture was so unncesary she just wanted to post it

user: MOTHER

user: parents are parenting

user: I LOVED THIS FILM

user: tom blyth is honestly so hot like wtf

rachelzeglar: my luv &lt;3

yourusername: omg my gf everybody!!!!

joshandresrivera: funny how you don't post a picture of me

yourusername: it's funny because i don't like you

joshandresrivera: tomblyth you gonna let her talk to me like that??

tomblyth: she's the boss

user: how is she so amazing in everything

user: wonder how she got this job? she's literally as plain as a plank

user: hi!

user: the film was insane, i'm obsessed

user: i need this film injected into my veins

user: she's so good at singing, get her on broadway!!!

tchalamet: very proud

yourusername liked tchalamet's comment

user: why would you post the second pic unless they're clearly dating

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

user: pls why do i ship them so hard!!

user: lol it looks like he's just refusing to answer questions without her

user: is nobody gonna talk about how they were basically wearing the same jumpers?

user: no because i thought the exact same thing

user: someone pointed it out in an interview and timothee said it was 100% planned, they're so cute

user: doesn't he have a girlfriend?

user: isn't she with tom blyth? they look like they're together?

user: they haven't confirmed it

user: they don't need to did you see her post on instagram?! it was all just him

user: no but the way she's just constantly blushing around him

user: so would you if you were sat next to the timothee chalamet

[nerdlvr]

i really wanna kiss you , jeno

(MDNI)

jeno x reader , fluff , jeno is a little bratty , soft kisses , face kisses , spit mentions , rough touches , jeno has on chocolate cocoa chapstick if that matters , changed this one up last minute , requested here !

what was jeno talking about again? cats? dogs? mark? at this point you had no idea, eyes zoning into how his soft lips moved when he talked, his tongue poking out occasionally to wet his lips.

you nodded softly as he spoke, his words just a distant sound as your focus was drawn elsewhere.

"you have really kissable lips jen."

"what?"

you blinked back into reality, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. did you actually just say that?

"y/n were you even listening to me?"

you furrowed your eyebrows, an offended look on your face,

"of course i was!"

"tell me what the last thing i said was."

you bit your lip trying to recall the last piece of information your brain had registered,

"um, you were saying something about mark's cat-"

"mark doesn't have a cat!"

he let out a sigh, a soft chuckle leaving his lips,

"have you just been thinking about kissing me this whole time?"

your eyes widened as you shook your head quickly, your blush now creeping onto your ears,

"what? of course no-"

"so you don't wanna kiss me?"

you hadn't realized that you were avoiding jeno's gaze until you slowly tilted your head towards him, your eyes meeting his soft ones. he looked at you expectedly, fingers strategically coming up to brush his lips. your eyes immediately looked towards his hands, following the movement of his fingers.

"see! i just caught you again!"

his finger came up to point at you, a wide grin spreading on his face. you squinted your eyes at him a small pout forming on your lips,

"what are you playing at jeno?"

"admit you wanna kiss me."

"no."

he let out a huff, his arms crossing in front of his chest,

"why not? you clearly wanna kiss me!"

you bit your lip, weighing your options,

"and what if i admit it? what are you gonna do about it?"

"then i'll kiss you."

you choked on your spit, eyes widening.

"what?"

"i said i'll kiss you. but you have to tell me you want this too."

his eyes were genuine, lips curving into a nervous smile as he waited for your response,

"i won't do it if you don't want to, but just say something, please."

you leaned closer to his face, hands coming up to hold his jaw. he closed his eyes slowly, lips slightly puckering,

"you look cute like this jen."

his eyes snapped open, eyebrows furrowed as he clenched his jaw,

"stop messing around."

he pushed your hands away, one of his own coming up to hold the back of your neck, pulling you towards him.

a small yelp left your mouth as he pressed your lips against his. they were warm and soft, the smell of his chapstick radiating from the kiss. you were quick to melt against his touch, your head turning to the side to slot your lips between his.

he let out a soft groan as you pressed your tongue against his, your spit mixing with one another. there was nothing but the taste of jeno, sweet and wet against your mouth. his hands moved down to hold your waist pulling you closer to his chest as his lips continued to move against yours. you pushed his chest, backing away slightly releasing his lips, giggling as he hungrily chased after you,

"breathe jen, i need to breathe give me a second."

he leaned towards you cheek planting kiss after kiss on the skin before moving to your nose and forehead. your skin was shiny from his kisses, his sweet scent filling your senses. he pulled you impossibly closer by your waist, lips almost touching yours,

"are you ready now?"

no. but breathing could wait.

[cozage]

Hello, first of all, congrats on 2k followers, you deserve that and more ♡

I would like to request on the option 1, a scenario with Zoro, Sanji and Luffy (and if you can, Law, Ace and/or Kid) where the reader asks "could you hold something for me?", and the reader gives them their hand to hold.

Thank you in advance, hope you have a lovely day ♡

Characters: gn reader x Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Law Total word count:700

A Hand to Hold

Zoro

He’s napping on the deck of the Sunny when you stride over to him and sit down next to him

He peeks his good eye open just a fraction of an inch, trying to see what you want. 

“Can you hold something for me?”

“Can’t you get someone else to-”

“Zoro!”

“Fine!” He holds his hand out, slightly irritated.

You place your hand into his, watching his reaction closely. 

Immediate response? He would just deadpan and stare at you. 

“Why? Why did you give me this? Is it bleeding or-”

“No Zoro!” you giggled. “Just hold it.”

“Did Luffy put you up to this? Or Nami? Or that damn-”

“No!” you said, starting to pout. The mood was ruined. “Just forget it.”

As you pull your hand away, he grips it a little tighter. When you look back at him, he’s got a little bit of blush across his cheeks. 

“I’ll hold it,” he grumbled, closing his eyes. “As long as it doesn’t interrupt any more of my nap.”

Sanji

As soon as you walk through the door, you can smell your favorite dessert being made.

But Sanji is nowhere to be found.

“Sanji,” you called. “Can you hold something for me?”

“Of course, my love!” he shouted from the pantry, and a moment later he rushes out and toward you. 

His hands are empty, already forgetting whatever he was planning to grab in exchange for what you need him for. 

He holds his hand out, and when you place your hand in his, he looks at it, confused for a moment. 

He’s afraid he had misheard you. “What did you need again?” he asked.

“I needed you to hold something.” You give his hand a light squeeze. 

“Your…hand?”

You smile, trying to hold back a laugh. “My hand.” 

He crumples to the ground, overwhelmed with emotion. For a second you’re worried you’ve killed him, but he’s still breathing, thankfully. 

Luffy

“Luffy!” You shouted to your captain, who was at his seat on the figurehead. “Can you hold something for me?”

He groaned at your request, not wanting to leave his seat. “Come up here and give it to me!”

You joined him at his seat on Sunny’s head and sat next to him, waiting for him to hold his hand out. 

“What do you need me to hold?” he asked, looking at you with confusion. 

“My hand,” you said, placing your hand in his. 

“Oh.” Luffy shrugged, looking back out to sea. “For how long?”

You smiled. “For however long you want.”

“We could make a game out of it.”

That piqued your interest. “A game?”

He grinned mischeviously. “Yeah! Hang on for as long as you can!” 

Suddenly he shot his other arm out to the mast, and the two of you flew threw the air, gripping onto each other for dear life. 

Law

You walked into his lab, looking for the golden-eyed doctor. 

“Law!” You turned the corner to find him measuring out a strange liquid. “Can you hold something for me?”

“Kinda busy,” he mumbles, his teeth gritted in concentration. “Can someone else help you?”

You giggle. “I don’t think so. I can wait,” you said, plopping yourself down on a nearby stool and opening a book.

After a few minutes, he finally turns to you. “What is it?”

“I need you to hold something.” You held your hand out in a fist, as if you were holding something.

“Is this one of yours and Shachi’s pranks?” he asked. But he trusts you (most of the time), and holds his hand out to take whatever you had. 

You quickly intertwine your fingers with his, clutching his hand tightly. “Thanks.” You return to your book without another word. 

“Your hand?” he asks, nervously glancing back at his project. “Can we do this later? I’m kind of on a timetable with that mixture.”

You frowned. “Fine. But I’m adding interest.”

“Deal,” he said, pulling his hand away and running back to his project. 

You were a little hurt, but he quickly realized his error and ran back to you, plopping a kiss on the top of your head before rushing back to the table. 

[luveline]

Hi lovely!

Can you please do one where Hotch and Reader are in a fight and it gets heated and he maybe raises his hand just because he’s shouting and she flinches?

He would be prepared to FIGHT whoever made his honey feel that way 🗣️🗣️

💘

for you my sweetheart. fem, 1k

cw implied past domestic violence 

“It was right,” you're saying, on the defensive, your voice molten, “it was the thing to do!” 

“It wasn't.” Hotch closes the door. “It wasn't the right thing to do, it wasn't even close.” 

You realise, under everything, that he's right, but you couldn't help yourself, you had to try and save the day, had to swerve the SUV. Plus, he's done it himself, and you both know that. “If Monikie got out of that exit we never would've seen her again.” 

“There were roadblocks on the I–46, and I don't think I have to tell you that you could've gotten a lot of people seriously hurt–” 

“You've done worse,” you deny.

His expression, broadly furious, narrows into something sharper, “And that is my decision to make, but you report to me.” 

“You can't seriously want to act like a boss now,” you say. 

The room isn't overly large, and so you stand close to one another with no need for shouting, but your voices begin to overlap. Hotch is so angry. It isn't like him to yell at you, his voice strained. 

“You can't truly think that the decision you made today was the right one. You need to calm down, and you need to listen to me when I tell you that this was the wrong move. We'll talk about it more tomorrow.” 

“You're shrugging me off?” You could laugh. “You can't be serious. Every member of this team has done the same, or worse–” 

“But they're not you!” His voice peeks, his hand jolting out in front of his chest, flat-palmed in incredulity. 

You're really quite close to each other. 

It's not his fault. 

You step back, desperate to be away from the movement, the hand, because it doesn't register as his hand, only there's a chair behind you and a table behind that and you bump into the plastic with a creak and screech. You're righting yourself as quickly as you're tripping but Hotch is already moving away. Three steps that feel like a gorge. 

Your heartbeat soars. 

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly. 

“Of course.” You breathe out funny. It's not his fault, but there's something wired in your brain now, and it knows that the first strike isn't the last. Your hand shakes as you brush at an itch under your eyes. 

“I'm not mad,” he says. 

“You sounded pretty mad."

“I've changed my mind.” He gives you a long hard look, and then he moves to the office door to open it before returning to his initial position. He's given you an exit route. “I'm not going to hurt you,” he says. 

You put your hands on your hips and bend at the waist, breathing out hard. “Fuck, I know that."

“You thought I might.” 

“So profile me,” you say, panicking still, face hot and itchy all over. “Tell me why.” 

“Someone's hit you before. Enough to anticipate the second blow.” 

“But you knew that already, didn't you?” 

Your ears get cloudy like there's water in them and you can't stand the feeling of Hotch's gaze on the back of your head. You force yourself into a standing position and try to ignore what happened. 

“You're unfairly angry with me,” you say. 

Hotch just shakes his head at you. 

“It's… It's not a big deal,” you say, quieter. He already knew because of course he did, every member of the team gets checked. You have records, and he's in a position of power unlike most, he could've read them like the morning paper. 

“Why would you say that?” 

“I can still do my job.” 

“I wasn't going to suggest you couldn't.” 

Then why… why is he looking at you like that? You're humiliated enough, and his gaze is so… so soft. So sorry. Tears gather warm behind your eyes and your chest aches like you've been holding your breath. You frown, eyebrows lifting at the starts, not knowing if you should beg him to forget the whole thing or finally give in. 

“Come here,” he says gently. Completely optional, his fingertips twitching but stationery at his side. 

You stare resolutely at your shoes. 

“I'm sorry I scared you, it wasn't my intention. I can imagine how it feels. I'm not mad, honey,” he says. His voice drops to a murmur, “Come here,” he pleads. 

You take a clumsy handful of steps and he meets you in the middle, arms going carefully over your shoulders. You'd feel condescended by it if it weren't shockingly nice to be considered in such a way, or if the solid mass of his arms around you didn't soothe. You feel protected rather than boxed in, held, and not restrained. 

His hand slides open down the length of your back.

“I'm sorry I scared you,” he repeats, for your ears alone. 

“It's not like it was really you that scared me.” 

The memory scared you. The flinch was instinctive, less to do with Hotch and more to do with the connection between a moving hand and stinging pain. 

He hangs his head by your ear until his nose touches your shoulder, and for a few seconds, it's just you and him together, no fighting, and no fast-approaching hands. 

“You didn't scare me,” you mumble, hiding your face in his shoulder instead, forcing him to stand tall. 

Incoming footsteps cut your embrace short, but he doesn't pull away too swiftly. His hands grave the lengths of your arms, and he gives you a long, loaded look. Before you can calibrate the action to the man, he's chucking you under the chin, a stroke of his index knuckle, a promise of more to say. 

He catches Morgan before he can enter the room and directs him back out. “Take a minute,” he advises you. 

You sit in a chair and do as he's offered. Memory is a tricky thing. 

[gamblersdoll]

“options.”

sum. he likes to play games with you, acting like he big dog, but you can play with him too. trueform! sukuna, fighting to smut, fluff at the end, spitting, deep mating press, (somewhat.)

“whats with the face, woman?” the ancient monster only asks because you aren’t entertaining him, you aren’t throwing tantrums about him not giving you attention. “youre quiet.”

“im not going to feed into your bullshit today.” you snark back, your arms limp and fingers padding away at your phone and he quirks an eyebrow up. “im not fucking stupid, ryomen.”

ryomen?

he nodded his head slow, chuckling to lean back and rub his chin. “do you know who yer’ talkin’ to?” he asks, you must have forgotten, had to be. the fuck was your problem? youve always been an obedient pet, sometimes having your days where he can somewhat understand and help you calm your nerves. was it that time again? no, he wouldve smelled it, if not— he wouldve tasted it. “talk.”

“you keep playing with me, always saying how im your favorite mortal,’ yet, you sneak off to other women when youre done with me.” you bring up, but it didnt hurt when you said that. thats what this was about? his harem?

“because i can.” he leans up and closer to you. “because i can do what the fuck i want to, thats what happens when youre a demon— let alone, king.” he reminds, you tend to forget your place when it came to him.

“you do that, then.” you chuckle, you were sick and fucking tired. “but when i find a man who i dont have to worry about ditchin’ me for other women, dont be angry.”

“thats okay, because you wont see another man.” hes starting to get pissed, because youre over-fucking-stepping. how dare you think you can seek out other men? when you had a demon who can give way more than what a mortal man cannot.

why was he even angry about that thought?

“so its okay for you to lie in my face and say im your favorite, but you seek other women? make it make the fuck sense.” because he wasnt making sense. you couldnt put that together, youre his favorite but he ended the night with other people to get him off. was your offerance not enough?

“lie?”he scoffs, grabbing you by your jaw and pulling you close. “no one has deceived you.” he makes his tone deep, eyes staring into yours snd he has a snarl to his lip.

“prove it, you goddamn liar.” you spit in his face, watching his blink slow and hard as he takes a deep breath in. “do something, i fucking dare you.” you growl, watching your fluids drip down his cheek.

he had to be more pissed at the fact you called him a liar than the actual truth, the truth of the matter being he does sleep around, (and excuses it by saying hes the king, so he can) and he hated that you labeled him as such.

his legs slammed against the back of yours, yeah he was furious— his second row of arms holding your hips down and one hand holding your wrists down together. “got really smart with your mouth, brat. thats not good.” he clicks his tongue, his only free hand smacking your cheek. “youve lost your goddamn mind, woman— did you think id let you get away with calling me a deceiver?”

“fuck you.” you moan out, this was pathetic. but who could blame you? imagine having a giant ancient demon drill his cock into you, while you feel the other one growing harder, and having him focus on you.

“think im a liar, mm?” he asks, his face getting closer to yours and he shakes his head in disbelief. “you want me to stop having others serve me the way you do? mm?” he asks so sweet, it shouldn’t be allowed for him to sound this way.. not with him being a dick and drilling his first dick inside. “cmon, little one— answer. say what you want.” you muster up the strength to speak, only for him to knock it down and him to pitifully laugh down to you. “oh, poor baby.. can you not speak? is it too much?” he asks, slowing his hips and slowly pulling away.

“no, its not—“ you try to say, but he spits in your face, and you knew that he was trying to prove a point.

“see how that feels, nasty thing?” he asks, taking his thumb and smearing it against your face. “say what you want, woman.”

“want you to stick with me only—“ you finally get it out, cut off with a moan only for him to coo at you. your hands pat at his chest, or so you thought.. since his belly mouth opens and licks at your palm.

“that what you want, pet? for me to only have you serve me the way you do?” he asked, watching your head nod and he smirks. “and what makes you think you get that privilege?” he wasn’t fucking serious, whats with all these fucking questions?

“because—“ you moan after, how the fuck long was this going to go, man? “because i can take all of you, thats why.” you let him know that, and now hes intrigued.

he laughs a little, licking his canines and grinding his tip deeper. “thats all you had to say, pretty one.” he blurts, his hold on your wrists become different, his hand holding yours. “takin’ it so good, think you can handle another?” you nod, him slowing just a little and pressing the second cock’s tip up to your slit. “you wanna try again?” he makes sure you know what youre saying..

because no mortal woman have ever taken him before..

until he learns the hard, satisfying truth about how you can stretch really well when you’re attracted to someone. the second cock slips in, your teeth grit and a slight stretch can be sometimes uncomfortable. his eyes blow wide, his mouth opening slightly in a gaze. “oh?” he says in a marveled voice. “fuck, hell yeah!” he laughs in a boisterous voice, spitting on your folds for lubrication and thrusting his cocks inside your cunt. “my absolute favorite mortal, for sure. ill eat my own words.” you nod, looking up to the ancient monster that fucks itself into your walls and feel it in your throat. your eyes roll back, him lightly smacking your cheek and forcing you to look up to him. “take all of it, take all of this king cocks.”

—

“you dyin’ on me?” he asks, him leaning back on the bed as you pull your panties up. “no, no, stay the way you are.”

“not dyin’.” you say monotone, pulling them off and feeling his eyes.

“youre still doubting my loyalty to you, are you?” he asks gruff. he scoffs, beckoning his fingers to you. “come.” come you did, literally and sexually only five minutes ago. “why do you doubt?”

“you never said youd stop, but.. should i have a reason to believe you?” you asked, looking up to him and he feels a pang.

why did they way you look at him hurt?

“i did. you just are too naive to see.” he pulls you until him, hearing your yelp and holding you close.

“you didnt though, you never said ‘ill stop whoring myself around,’ or however you want to say it.” you suggest that he calls himself a whore? him? no, he wouldn’t suffice to that.

“the moment you were able to get two of my cocks inside of you, i decided that.” he pointed out what he thought was obvious, but that only occurs in his mind. “and… i suppose when you spat in my face and i didnt decide to eat you.” he sighs, the side of his face staring down at you. “so be proud of that, youre my favorite.”

the feeling of hurt and betrayal leave you, knowing one thing was for sure.

you were his favorite, and he was yours.

[munson-blurbs]

https://www.tumblr.com/munson-blurbs/756854229024620544/i-wanna-write-a-smutty-blurb-either-eddie-x?source=share

A smutty blurb, huh? Ok what about phone sex with Eddie? Reader has been away for college and they miss each others a lot, miss touching each others and they get carried away during a phone call.

Or maybe, one where they are in a secret relationship but it's getting more and more difficult to not being affectionate towards each others when they are with others, so one day during a sleepover at one of their friends house, while everyone else is asleep, they go hide in a bathroom and they go from kissing to have sex on the counter

I went with the second option! My brain saw it and I sprinted to my Google Docs.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), an inconvenient boner, fingering, unprotected p in v, kind of public sex, secret relationship, sneaking around

WC: 1.5k

“Hey.”

Eddie’s soft voice was barely audible over the hum of the TV and Robin’s sporadic snores. Nancy and Jonathan had claimed the sofa bed and were currently curled up in the center of the Buckley’s living room. You had laid your blanket as far away from Eddie as possible, so as not to draw any suspicion from the rest of the group. 

But he stood above where you’d been trying to sleep, towering over you. Had he noticed you pressing your legs together as you tried to quell the desire building between them? Did he know that you were replaying memories of him kissing your neck as he pushed into you?

“Hey,” you managed, smiling up at him. “You okay?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.” He glanced around the room, making sure everyone else was sound asleep. “I was just thinking about you, and, um…” 

Your eyes widened when he gestured to the tent in his pants, now backlit by the TV screen. 

“Was hoping you could help me out.” 

You nearly melted at the sheepishness in his smile. God, he was adorable even when he was horny; you didn’t realize that was possible. 

“Yeah, of course.” Your stomach flip-flopped when he offered out his hand; you took it and followed him to the bathroom. 

Eddie’s lips were on yours the moment the door locked behind you. You could feel his erection through his pajamas, pre-cum leaking through and giving evidence of the way his cock curved slightly left when he got hard. 

He moaned when you pressed your body against his. “I’m so hard, it hurts.” He nipped at your bottom lip, snaking a hand up your shirt and groaning again. “Love when you wear pajamas.” His thumb grazed your nipple. “Because it means you’re not wearing a bra.”

You hummed in agreement, though following even the simplest conversation seemed impossible now. 

Eddie’s other hand trailed down past the elastic waistband of your shorts. He all but whimpered when he felt the wetness awaiting him. 

“I was thinking about you, too,” you confessed. 

He grinned against your neck. “What about me?” His middle finger easily found your clit, making deliberate circles that sent pleasure rippling through you. 

You took a moment to collect yourself, already hypnotized by his touch. “About that time we cut class and you ate me out in your van.” Your breath hitched in your throat. “A-And then I offered to suck you off, but you al-already came.”

The memory came rushing back: his desperation to please you, culminating with a pair of ruined jeans and another sloppy make-out session. 

“I was a bad influence on you that day, huh? Ditching school…fooling around in public…” Eddie gripped your hips, supporting you as you hoisted yourself onto the bathroom counter. 

You shoved Robin’s hair dryer aside and scooted back. Eddie tugged down your pajama pants, then your panties, his tongue darting out over his lower lip when he saw you fully on display for him. 

“Anyone could’ve caught us,” he continued. Taking a step closer, he ran his middle finger through the wetness between your legs before sliding it inside you. “We’ve gotta be careful. Don’t want people getting suspicious.”

You could only manage a nod, gripping the counter’s edge, as he filled you with just one thick finger. He kept the rhythm slow and even, working you with a patience you hadn’t known existed. You wanted all of him, and you wanted him now, but he seemed perfectly content to focus on your pleasure. 

Eddie’s ring finger joined his middle, both curling upwards to hit your sweet spot. “How’s that?” He murmured in your ear. 

“G-Good. Little faster, maybe?” He eagerly complied, sending euphoric surges through your body. “Perfect. Oh my god, oh my fucking god, yes!”

The exclamation came out louder than you intended, sending Eddie into peals of laughter. “Sshh,” he managed, slowing his pace slightly. “We don’t want them waking up.”

Now that would be a conversation for the ages. How could you possibly explain to your friends why Eddie was two fingers deep inside of you? Sure, you all had been studying for the science final, but it wasn’t an anatomy class. It was awkward enough when you struggled to concentrate during Nancy’s rapid-fire quizzing. And then Robin had to repeat what she’d read from her notes because you kept staring at Eddie’s tongue poking between his lips. 

You clamped your lips shut now, focusing your energy on your trembling legs. He just knew how to touch you, how to make you feel good, after months of sneaking around. His fingers learned your body like they had once learned to play the guitar. 

And damn, if you two didn’t make some beautiful music together.

“Eddie.” You tried to tell him how close you were, that he was bringing you to the edge, but there was only one word you could utter. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…”

“That’s my girl. Let go for me.” His voice was husky, gaze meeting yours. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful when you come for me.”

You clenched around his fingers, chanting his name as quietly as you could. His pet name for you reverberated through your mind. My girl. You were Eddie’s girl, and every part of you ached for the world to know.

“Baby, can I…” Eddie’s breath tickled your neck as he gingerly withdrew his fingers and palmed the bulge straining against his pajama pants. As soon as you nodded, he loosened the drawstring and pulled his cock free. “Sh-Shit, fuckin’...” He trailed off as he stroked himself, using your arousal as a makeshift lubricant. 

The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance, your body welcoming him without resistance. A whine escaped your throat; this time, Eddie didn’t even attempt to quiet you.

His fingers gripped your hips to keep you in place, your own nails digging into his back with enough force to leave crescent-shaped indents through his t-shirt and into his skin. Each thrust had you holding him tighter as he grew harder still inside you. 

“Goddamn, you feel perfect.” Sweat matted Eddie’s curls to his face, and you pushed the strands out of his eyes and tucked them behind his ear. “Thanks, baby.” He kissed you, a token of his appreciation and his desire. 

Everything melted when his lips were on yours. They always did; it was as though the rest of the world faded away. The stress of final exams, the whirlwind of events between prom and graduation and college, the weighty expectations on your shoulders…they evaporated when Eddie kissed you. 

Eddie kept his nose to yours, sneaking kisses whenever he caught his breath. “Can never get close enough to you, I fuckin’ swear.” Each snap of his hips brought you both hurtling towards climax, and you could tell that Eddie was trying to hold out so you’d finish first. 

“I wanna come with you.” Your fingers weaved through his hair as you pulled yourself closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Don’t hold back, okay? I want you.”

He nodded, his kisses sloppier and only halfway on your lips as his orgasm neared. “Say that again for me?”

The slight tremor in his voice turned the command into a whine and weakened your minimal remaining resolve. “I want you. I want you so bad.”

“Yeah?” Eddie spoke through clenched teeth as he moved faster, harder, more determined. “Yeah, you want me? Or you need me?”

“Need you. Need you, I need you…oh my god, I need you!”

His mouth curved into a knowing smile, though you thought you spotted some relief behind it, too. As if he was glad that you wanted this as much as he did. How could you not? 

You grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your breast. Eddie squeezed, feeling your nipple pebbling beneath your shirt.

“Fuck, I…I’m gonna…” He thrusted into you—hard—and spilled into you with a groan. “Oh my god…holy shit…”

Eddie’s chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, his orgasm slowly releasing him from its alluring grasp. “Baby…” He looked at you, eyes widening in realization. “You didn’t get to come.”

“I did.”

“I’m not talking about earlier.” Eddie shook his head. “You didn’t get to come during, like, the actual sex.”

There was no use denying it; he knew all of your tells too well by now. “No,” you admitted. Dejection brought Eddie’s gaze from your eyes to the tile floor. “But it’s okay. Really.”

He shook his head again. “It’s not okay. I wanna make you feel good, y’know? You’re my girl.”

There was that name again, accompanied by butterflies in your stomach. “Guess that just means you owe me an extra orgasm next time.”

“Well, ‘next time’ better not be in my bathroom!” Robin’s disgusted voice rang through the door. “I swear, if there’s an ass print—or worse—on the counter…”

“Looks like they know now.” Eddie smiled as he kissed you, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “You ready for the interrogation of a lifetime?”

You laughed as he helped you down from the counter. “We should probably wipe off my ass print, first.”

“Very true. Your ass and its prints are for my eyes only, baby.”

--

[avatar-anna]

this is very unedited, and i'm like half asleep as i write this, but a Horan!sister reader has been in the back of my mind recently (mostly bc i miss one direction and maybe bc i saw niall live a couple weeks ago) anyway, enjoy!

"We...We, um, we kissed."

"Yeah. We did."

"But we're—we're friends."

"I know."

"Are you freaking out? I feel like you're not freaking out enough," you said as you paced the length of your hotel room.

Harry, who sat on his bed, the one mere feet from yours, shrugged. "I don't see a need to, honestly."

You couldn't believe how nonchalant he was being. You and Harry had never expressed any romantic feelings for each other. You'd known each other for ages, and of course you thought he was attractive—who wouldn't?—but that was it. There were never any heated glances, no longing gazes while the other wasn't looking, no hugs that lasted too long to be anything other than friendly. You were friends, nothing more, and what had just happened changed everything.

Unless...

"You're right," you found yourself saying. "It was just a heat of the moment thing. We—We just got excited, that's all."

You were ready for Harry to agree with you. You were ready to agree to forget about the kiss, to never mention it again, pretend it never happened. That was the only logical option in your mind, unless you wanted to throw years of friendship down the drain. You didn't want to be a cliche, and you didn't think Harry wanted to either.

Plus, there was the other thing, but you didn't want to even think about that right now.

"Did we?" Harry asked. He looked amused as he tracked your movements, one hand playing with his bottom lip as if he was trying to cover up a smile.

"What do you mean—Of course we did. You're you and I—and he—Stop looking at me like that!"

This time, Harry didn't even try to hide his grin, dimples set deep in his cheeks as he laughed. "Like what?"

"Like you—" Like you want to sleep with me, you thought but didn't say. That was even more dangerous territory. "Like you don't regret what we did."

"We kissed, Y/n, we didn't kill someone," Harry said.

Right, you thought. This was normal for Harry. He probably didn't think twice about it because he was constantly kissing people. Well, not constantly, but definitely more than you did. Your brother made sure of that.

"You're right, sorry," you said. "So we'll just forget it happened then, right? We can just go back to—"

"Hold on a minute, I didn't say that."

For the first time since you kissed him, you looked at Harry directly. "Excuse you?"

"I don't regret what happened," Harry said, standing up slowly. "Do you?"

"Yes! I mean we're friends, and your best friend is—"

"Let's leave that out of the equation. Just for a second," he said. For every step he took toward you, you took one back. "That wasn't just in the heat of the moment, Y/n. I think we both know that."

"It—It was. We were celebrating and got carried away—"

"See, I'd believe you if you hadn't used tongue."

"You used tongue first!"

"And you moaned."

"It was a sound of surprise from the use of said tongue!"

Harry took another step closer, and once your back hit the wall, you had nowhere left to go. He was close enough that you could smell his cologne, sweet and a little smoky. His eyes were intense as they stared down at you, expression unreadable as he looked you up and down.

Since you met him, Harry had been hard to read. He was naturally quiet, never giving much away unless he was more than a few drinks in. Not to mention the first few years of knowing him that you'd gotten to know each other more. You only knew him through your brother, who was more than happy to stick you with the annoying little sister role, despite only being a year younger than him.

There was a point in time where you might've had a crush on Harry. You remembered watching him on TV at night and liking his voice and his smile and curly hair. Your brother had gone and ruined it of course when you met for the first time, teasing you about said crush, and you went so out of your way to convince everyone that you didn't that you succeeded perhaps a little too well. But now you knew Harry better. He wasn't some boy who sang on television anymore. Well, he was, but he was so much more than that now, his fame growing wild and beyond anything you could comprehend.

"Was it a bad kiss?" he asked suddenly.

That was a question you didn't expect. "What? N—No, it was fine—"

"Fine? Just fine?" Harry repeated. "What's a guy got to do to be better than fine?"

"That's not what matters!" you said, growing exasperated. "It should never have happened in the first place. You're my brother's best friend, you're—you're his bandmate!"

Niall had an embarrassing amount of rules when it came to you and his friends. Not that you thought they were ever really necessary, though now you weren't so sure. Half the boys were already in relationships anyway, and Harry was...well, he was Harry. As long as you'd known him, he'd never had a long term relationship. You didn't know why, and you were never close enough to him to ask. But the more famous he, and One Direction, became, the more...larger than life he seemed. Or maybe it was that you were in the perpetual space of being Niall's little sister that you'd just automatically written him off as someone who wouldn't be interested in you.

Either way, whatever was happening now was nerve-inducing. And scary. And making you feel things you weren't sure you wanted to feel.

"Is there an area I could improve in? Like specifically? Or was it the overall kiss that was mediocre? I'm really trying to wrap my head around this," he said. "Not to be rude, but I normally don't get many complaints."

"How are you being so—so unbothered right now?" you asked.

"I don't know, I just know that I liked kissing you," Harry said with a shrug. "And that I'd like to do it again. If not for the sake of kissing you then to at least improve from fine to enjoyable."

"Oh my God, the kiss was better than fine, okay? It was probably the best kiss I've had in a while. Best kisser in all of London. You're a proper Casanova," you admitted with a huff, knowing Harry wouldn't let that one detail go. "Happy?"

"Very. So...want to do it again?"

"No!"

"Why?"

Was he whining? "Because—"

"Okay, all of the stuff about your brother and my bandmate and how this probably isn't a stellar idea aside, you can't tell me you don't want to," he said. His eyes searched yours, looking for an answer in them before you said it. "I meant what I said, Y/n. I don't tend to do things I'll regret, and I don't regret kissing you."

That face, you thought. It was too beautiful, too distracting to make you think straight. Harry was all sharp angles and high cheekbones and long hair now, it wasn't fair. You didn't stand a chance against it all. Especially when his big green eyes almost seemed to plead with yours.

Deep down—maybe not even that deep, quite shallow, actually—you knew you enjoyed the kiss too, and not just because Harry was objectively good at it. It was him, it was the pesky feelings that erupted and took root inside you when you first slid your lips against his. Perhaps the kiss had started out as a heat of the moment thing—an overemotional celebration after watching a particularly intense football match after running into each other in London. You were there on holiday and he was home during his time off. You found yourselves spending they say together, finding comfort in each other's familiarity.

You'd never meant to spend the whole day with him, you'd never meant to invite him to your room to watch football and order room service, you'd never meant to kiss him after a goal scored. Yet you did, and you had, and it was hard to cross back over to ignorance and bliss when you knew what it felt like to have Harry's lips on yours.

"We can't tell him," you said. "Not yet. Not until we know what we're doing. He'll kill you."

"I know," Harry said, his fingers coming up to play with a strand of your hair. "When do you go back home?"

"In a few days, but—Fuck."

"What? Changed your mind already?"

"No, I just—I'm coming with you. On tour," you said, eyes widening. "It was Niall's graduation gift to me. Some time off traveling before I get a job and everything."

"Okay, well that's—that's an obstacle for a few days from now. Let's just—unless you don't want to anymore—I mean, I can go if—"

"Who's nervous now?" you teased.

"Not nervous, just being extra sure. Got a lot to live up to, being the best kisser in the world and everything."

"Pretty sure I said London."

"Pretty sure we don't need to debate it anymore," Harry said, bringing your arms up to wrap around his neck. "You can just kiss me now instead."

The movement felt almost too natural, his hair soft beneath your fingertips as you leaned in, putting you both out of misery and kissing him for the second time.

It was just as good, if not better than the first time you kissed him earlier. Harry's lips were incredibly soft, gentle but sure. Your body molded perfectly against his, feeling light as his hands roamed up and down your back, through your hair, on your hips. You felt those same butterflies from before, the ones that told you you might be feeling more than just lust, but you batted that thought away.

It was way too early to be entertaining those thoughts. You wanted to just enjoy the moment, go with the flow and not lose yourself in he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not. So you pulled him closer, sealed your tongue against Harry's bottom lip, and savored the flavor of his mouth on yours, letting it drown you until you could think about anything else but him.

"We're gonna have fun on tour, I think," Harry breathed, his voice coming out in shallow pants as you kissed along his jaw and up the shell of his ear.

There were a million reasons why you shouldn't, but they all floated away as Harry hoisted you up into his arms, your legs moving instinctively around his waist, leaving just him and a very easy and resounding yes. Your answer came in the form of kissing him once more, your hands tugging eagerly on his hair until every doubt and question was a distant memory.