#I really needed to hear some kind words ... thank you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eileenrry · 3 days ago

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CH.1 A KISS from WE CAN TRY series pairing: Uni/Roommate/Best Friend!Harry x Fem!Reader summary: Harry has an unique lifestyle and you're his sweet innocent best friend. word count: 5.9K contains: FLUFF, description of sex, feelings, kissing (obviously lol) a/n: First chapter of my new series WE CAN TRY! I worked on this one way too long (maybe a month even) so I hope it'll be worthy, and that also another chapters will come sooner. Mid writing, I realized this trope is crashing a little with my ROOMMATES one shot but whatever, we all love roommate/uni!harry ;D A HUGE THANKS goes to each of you that reached out and showed me and my writings your love! It really pushed me and made me keep going. I'm forever grateful for this sweet community. Would be grateful for any feedback, ideas, anything! My dms are opened always. All my love, E

“Ahhh, oh my god, Harry! So good!”

A high-pitched voice echoed through the apartment, repeating his name like a mantra, until it melted into something almost sacred, less like lust and more like worship, a breathless prayer wrapped in need. From what you could hear, which was almost everything, Harry was undoubtedly good. Too good maybe. The kind of good that turned otherwise sane, put-together girls into a mess of tangled limbs, and desperate cries.

The old, squeaky bed frame gave out its usual protest, rhythmic and sharp thuds against the wall, punctuated by a wet, obscene slick of bodies moving in unison and his guttural grunts. It all added to the soundtrack of his filthy and flawless performance.

”I’m close, I’m so close!”

Harry was a man who knew how to use his hands. He knew the language of touch like the back of his hand, the map of a woman's skin. He traced every curve like he was fluent in desire, knew exactly where to dip and press, when to graze and when to grip. His fingers were long, and sure, curled in just the right places, showing the kind of precision he learned over the years. And his mouth? Absolutely filthy. He knew exactly what to say, when to say it, and how to say it so it hit the soul and the clit in equal measure. The dirty sweet nothings that made legs buckle and throats dry. He didn’t just make his lovers moan, he made them cry out, scream until it echoed into the early morning. Girls loved him. Craved him. Needed him.

It wasn’t just the way he looked. His golden skin covered in tattoos like a piece of forgotten art, sleepy green eyes that saw everything yet gave away nothing, the lazy, deliberate way he moved like he had all the time in the world. It was much more than that. He was effortless chaos wrapped in wild charm and just enough danger to make him irresistible.

“Harry!”

There wasn’t a week that passed without at least one night like this with Harry’s latest pretty things over until the sun came up. And oh boy, they were completely wrecked. Moving on shaky legs with tousled hair and smudged mascara, with clothes crumpled from their quick ministrations the night before and now clinging on their frames in all the wrong ways. Some tried to linger, trying to catch Harry like a fish on the idea of breakfast and potentially something more. But most barely managed to whisper a shaky goodbye and slip out of the door, especially after you stepped into the kitchen in your mismatched pyjamas and with sleepy eyes, immediately enveloped by Harry's strong frame from behind and his usual ‘How did y’sleep, sweetheart?’ in a British accent mumbled in your ear.

That was the moment every girl lost it. Every. Single. Time.

“Fuck, that was- ugh amazing, fuck! The best I ever had!”

Harry was a walking sex. A living, breathing wet dream that the entire campus, hell the entire university, dreamed about. Whenever he strolled through the crowded hallways with his arm draped casually around your shoulders, heads turned. Girls, younger or older, even some professors, cast looks your way, their jealousy written across their faces.

Because no matter how many girls he made scream and come undone not only on his fingers, at the end of the day, it was you he came home to. You, he wrapped those strong arms around in the quiet moments. You, he crashed next to at 2AM, slipping into your bed like it was his own after whatever girl had left or passed out in his. He’d curl into your warmth, still all sweaty from his night ‘workout’. It felt like the only place he truly belonged to, knowing you’d always let him and pull him close. His sweet best friend, the one he let himself be soft for, let himself be seen. Though he’d never admit that to anyone.

“You’re so good Harry…”

Harry stirred something primal in people - respect, arousal, intrigue, the kind of attention that clung to him without effort. He wasn’t the bad guy stereotype, quite far from it. He didn’t break hearts just to watch them shatter into little pieces. But he wasn’t boyfriend material, nor the guy you proudly brought home to meet your parents either. He was sharp-edged and wild-hearted. Unruly in a way that made you want to unravel beside him.

And even while he might have had a reputation for ruining girls in his bed, he was a gentleman. Never treated women like they were a doormat, never made them feel small unless they begged for it. The degradation he gave was wrapped in silk and whispered with affection and real care deep down. In everyday life, Harry was the opposite of cruel. In fact, he loved women. Admired them, respected their power and softness.

For him, there was simply something about wild and untethered nights without any promises, words of love and feelings involved. Just skin against skin, girl’s moanings and pleasure for pleasure’s sake. Harry easily slipped into this lifestyle, feeding on physical hunger without the need to understand the heart behind it all. Intense but shallow, passionate but uncommitted.

He was simple in the most complex of ways. A man of appetite and need. If something was freely offered, he never turned it down. Especially, when it meant getting his mouth on a pretty girl, drowning in her scent and juices and losing himself in the softness of her thighs. He loved it. The way they moaned his name, the whimpers, the gasping cries. Every sound they made was breathy and pure ecstasy, and it stroked his ego just right.

“Mhm, see you around then?”

But those nights were only momentary. A flash of heat, pure bliss and marks on the skin that in no time turned into a dusty memory. For others, a brief stint in his orbit. But none of them lasted. None of them mattered.It was always you. You, who he trusted with his whole life. You, who came back to, again and again, no matter who had warmed his bed before. It was always you.

You’d known Harry long before he became the person he is now. That lanky boy with big dimples, ruffled hair and a habit of chewing the pencil he’d stolen from you during lectures. Back then, he wasn’t the guy who made girls lose their minds. He was sweet and funny, awkward too, until he found cocky confidence over the years. And the rest? Mostly stayed the same.

His skin gradually adored more tattoos, more poems written in ink. His wardrobe shifted into something bolder, more distinctive, more him. He started putting more effort into his appearance - his hair, shaving, whatever it is boys do, and began carrying himself like he knew exactly how magnetic he’d become. You watched him change like a flower in bloom, mesmerized by nature’s own art.

The first time you met was in high school. He’d been running late, and the only empty seat left was next to you. And somewhere between stolen pencils and library study sessions that turned into other kinds of conversations, the two of you, in some strange way, became best friends. The kind of best friends who know each other’s coffee orders, wear each other’s sweaters (especially Harry, your big pink one), who fall asleep on the couch with tangled limbs like it’s the most normal thing in the world. One would think it’s quite a simple recipe for such a strong friendship.

Yet through all the years, you haven’t even once let in your mind the thought of you and your best friend crossing the line into something romantic. Not seriously, anyway. Not in a way you let yourself feel. Not even when his voice drifted through the paper walls in your ear every other night like a lullaby, moaning low and deep, mixed with someone else’s breathless gasps.

You never found your place in his bedsheets like the other girls did. You’ve never been a part of that rollercoaster of flings and one-night stands. He never really said it out loud, but you were such a precious creature to him.

Because out of all the girls on campus, why would Harry choose you?

You only knew the basics of sex from high school biology lessons, where Harry spent more time teasing and flustering you than anything else, and the blurry pictures on textbook pages told you nothing. You giggled through poorly shot porn at sleepovers with your friends, watching out of curiosity more than desire. You didn’t know much. How to touch, or move, or arch your back like the girls in those videos. You weren’t like the kind of girls Harry usually found for his (un)usual company.You were just and only his best friend! His safe space. The one he came home to, unafraid to spill his insecurities. The one he rambled to about professors and whined at when you tried to make him study. The one he let see his worst moods and softest moments. That’s who you were to him. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was another Friday. Lectures were done for the day, schoolwork pushed out of the sight, and casual clothes were swapped for pyjamas and worn-in sweatpants, which could only mean one thing. A movie night.

It has become an unspoken tradition over the years. Every Friday night, without fail, the two of you fell into the same rhythm. You ordered pizza or takeout, argued for a good fifteen minutes over which cheesy movie to put on, only to settle for an old classic or something completely ridiculous, and curled up together on the couch. Limbs tangled beneath a shared blanket, your head resting somewhere on Harry’s chest or shoulder meanwhile his fingers lazily traced patterns on your arm as you talked about everything and nothing. Sometimes, you get deep in the hole of philosophical questions. Other nights, you let yourselves get lost in the memories.

It was sacred. Something that was only yours and his. The only night where time slowed down and the weight of reality was lighter than a feather. Just you and Harry, a movie, and your shared apartment. Whenever things got hard, exams and pointless arguments, this night steadied you. It let you find the ground again or reach the clouds. It soothed you, melting all the tension from your shoulder until it all turned into oxygen you craved. It was the calm between chaos of your ordinary lives, where you let yourselves simply be.

“Where’s the pizza? I think I’m gonna die from hunger!” You groaned, throwing yourself dramatically onto the couch, sinking into the pile of pillows and blankets you’d prepared for the night. Everything was ready for your cuddles and chats, except for the food. Harry was on food duty tonight, and it felt like an eternity since he’d called in your usual orders from your favorite pizzeria.

“Oh no! We can’t have that, can we?” Harry’s laugh echoed from his bedroom. And a second later, he appeared in the doorway, already changed into grey sweatpants that hung too dangerously low on his hips and an old, worn band shirt he bought on the first concert you two went to together. Every time you’ve seen him in it, pleasant memories flew through your mind.

“Soon, sweetheart” He promised with his typical boyish grin, ruffling your already messy hair in passing. You whined in reaction and (unsuccessfully) tried to swat his hand away, only making him chuckle as he wandered into the kitchen to grab something cold to drink from the fridge.

Your gaze lingered on him a second longer than you intended, than you realized. You watched his muscles flex beneath the soft fabric of his shirt as he stretched up to grab two glasses from the cabinet. It was almost ridiculous how effortlessly attractive he was and how oblivious he seemed to it sometimes. Or maybe he just liked pretending he didn’t notice the way your eyes followed him whenever you thought he wasn’t looking.

“You’re staring again, baby” Harry mused, the teasing tone in his voice obvious even without him turning around to look at you. He poured himself a drink, and even though you couldn't see his face, you knew he had that cocky little smirk plastered on his lips.

“Am not!” Your cheeks flushed instantly, betraying your lie before you even realised it, and you pulled the blanket up to your chin as if it could somehow shield you from reality.

“Whatever you say” There was the typical flirtatious glint in the wink he sent your way before he plopped down on the couch beside you, handing you one of the full glasses of soda with a cheeky grin. Harry sprawled across the couch like the whole world belonged to him, his feet propped on the edge of the coffee table and his arm immediately found its way around you in a casual side hug. He loved having you close.

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the occasional buzz of your phones and the faint hum of the city outside the open windows. It was moments like this that made you forget about everything else and left only the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You know,…” Harry began after a long stretch of quiet, his voice lower, more serious, “these nights, they are actually the best part of my week.”

You blinked a few times, trying to process his words, caught off guard by the rare burst of raw honesty.

“You tried smoking weed again or something?” You teased him with a sarcastic chuckle, trying to mask how much his confession was actually making your heart race.

Harry laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and shook his head. “No, no, sweetheart, I’m staying loyal to cigarettes,” He swore, grinning at the memory of his disastrous first and only attempt at getting high. “I’m serious. It’s just…easy with you. Don’t have to think too much. Don’t have to pretend. Don’t have to try so hard for you…”

Your chest tightened with every word, your heart thudding against your ribs. You didn’t know where this was coming from, but you were so grateful for hearing it. You opened your mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in your throat. And then, like if everything was against you or wanted to actually save you, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it! You start looking for the movie, okay?” Harry said, pointing at you with a playful wag of his finger before peeling his arm away from around your shoulders. The sudden loss of his warmth made you shiver, and you instinctively curled tighter into the blanket as he pushed himself off the couch.

You watched him disappear in the hallway, listening to the low murmur of his voice at the door a moment later. Laughter, easy small talk, a generous tip handed over without a second thought, and then the soft thud of the door closing and locking again, sealing your little bubble safely back up.

“My savior!” You sang loudly, throwing your arms wide open as Harry walked back, the unmistakable scent of cheese and Italian seasoning trailing behind him. Your stomach growled on cue, the smell making you realize just how hungry you really were.

Harry chuckled at your reaction, holding the pizza box just out of your reach in an attempt to tease (and frustrate you) a little more. “Patience, sweets”

You grabbed the box greedily when he finally gave in, your fingers brushing against his briefly, but neither of you seemed to notice, or just didn’t think of mentioning it. You were too busy setting your boxes down on the coffee table, flipping them open to reveal the glorious sight of melted cheese, golden crust and your favorite topping scattered across.

“What’s that?” Harry mumbled with a mouth full of pizza, nodding towards the TV where you’d already picked the movie for the night. You’d seen most of what Netflix had to offer by now, but this particular one caught your attention. It was a movie from last year, still relatively fresh and new, tagged under romantic comedies. Harry loved to protest whenever you picked a romcom, but secretly? He was way too into it.

“Some new romcom. The description sounded fun. C’mon!” A small pout from you was all it took for him to be fully convinced, and with a dramatic sigh and mumbled ‘fine’, he pressed play on the remote.

You were about halfway through the movie when things started to shift. Your pizzas were almost gone, drinks were finished, and you were snuggled beneath Harry’s arm, his fingers occasionally toying with the strap of your tank top or tracing idle patterns on your skin.

You’d been surprisingly quiet, fully absorbed in the storyline. Now and then, one of you would make a comment that would send the other into a fit of laughter, but otherwise, you were both content and cozy.

Until a particular steamy scene started.

Harry’s attention drifted from the screen solely on you. He noticed the way you whimpered softly under your breath, the way your thighs pressed together just slightly, searching for some sort of friction. That your fingers grew restless and your body curled a little closer into his.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl?” Harry murmured into your hair, his hand giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, coaxing a response.

A man was kissing his lover. His fingers traced her curves with precise touch, mouth claiming hers in a kiss that made her moan quietly. After months of pinning, he was finally getting a taste of her lips.

“Nothing,” You said quickly, shaking your head and sitting up straighter, trying to get your body back under control.

You were hoping he’d let it go. But he never did. His eyes stayed on you, quietly observing the way you stared a little too intently at the screen, pretending like none of this was affecting you.

“It’s clearly something” He murmured near your ear, his voice soft, warm, but with the edge that made your stomach twist. He wasn’t teasing, like you would’ve expected. There was no mockery in his tone, just quiet curiosity. “C’mon.”

“Just uh… It’s just the movie” You said, too fast, too light. There was a beat of silence. Then another. You cleared your throat, trying again, this time slower, with a more steady voice. “It’s nothing.”

Harry didn’t respond right away. He didn’t challenge you or call you out. Instead, his fingers resumed their soft tracing along your skin, gentle and grounding. It was patient, soothing, like an offer to breathe, to take your time.

He was quiet about it. Like he was registering every small reaction - every shift, every unsteady breath, every way your body leaned just a little closer without even realizing it.

Not to push. Not to rush. But to understand. Like he already knew what was going on, and he was just waiting for you to catch up. Open up.

“Why can’t I have this too?” You whispered, the ache in your voice unmistakable. You longed for that kind of connection. The late-night kisses that would leave you breathless, the hickeys you’d struggle to hide, the kind of touch that turned your stomach inside out. The intimacy. The sex.

Harry shifted beside you, his hand gliding up into your hair. He began twirling a strand gently between his fingers, his nails lightly scratching your scalp in that way he knew calms you down. He hated when you started spiraling like this and got too deep in your own head.

“What do you mean?”

“I just… I want someone to kiss me like this too. To touch me. To love me.” A long sigh escaped you, as if the admission had been sitting on your chest for too long.

“You should have that all. You deserve it, baby. Every. Single. Bit.” He said finally, his voice steady and sure. There was no trace of pity or sugarcoated empty words meant to soothe. Just the truth. Simple, quiet, firm. Said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry never understood how no one had seen you for what you truly were. How they could pass you by without even stopping, like if you weren’t something extraordinary.

You were sweet in the most effortless way, stunning even when your hair was a mess and your face was clean of makeup. You didn’t need to be polished or perfect, there was something real and raw that made you simply glow. You were like a walking angel. So pure and innocent.

Your kindness was performative. It was stitched deep in your bones. You’d drop everything if it meant helping someone else stand a little taller. And you were absolutely brilliant. So incredibly smart it sometimes left him speechless. Honestly, he didn’t know where he’d be without you. Lost, probably.

“I just want to finally have my first kiss…” You murmured, the words slipping out in a soft, wistful whine, like a little girl dreaming of her Barbie dream house.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, only thick with thought, stretched between you softly. Your attention drifted back to the movie playing on the screen, though the images blurred in your mind, your mind occupied the you'd just let slip.

“Would it be that bad of an idea?” You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You tilted your head, resting your chin on his broad shoulder, eyes flicking up to catch his reaction.

The steamy scene continued, oblivious to the shift in atmosphere. On-screen, the woman gasped each time her lover’s lips pressed against her skin with devotion, marking her as his own. The soft moans and rustle of sheets played like a soundtrack to your heartbeat.

Harry turned his head toward you slowly, his face lacking in emotion. Blank like a love letter that awaited to be written. Not cold, but impossible to make out either. He reached up and gently tucked a stray of your hair behind your ear with so much care, it made your chest tighten.

“You know I would do anything for you”

The words left his mouth without hesitation, steady and sincere, like he’d known the answer before you’d even asked.

“Yeah?” You breathed out, almost afraid to believe it.

“Of course. But uh…” He stuttered, his thumb tracing soft, slow strokes across your cheek. The motion made your eyes flutter, your body leaning instinctively in his touch like a kitten starved for affection. If you could purr, you would start immediately within a second right in his hands. “Do you want it to be me, baby?”

Your throat tightened, but your words came out anyway, trembling yet honest. “You’re better than anyone else.”

It scared you how true it was. How badly you meant it. Because the only thing worse than wanting him to kiss you was the thought of losing him.

“Okay, okay. We can try then… C’mere.”

Harry’s British accent broke the heavy hush in the room, grounding you, welcoming you, telling you that you’re safe with him.

“Um… like- like on your lap?” You asked in a whisper, the words catching awkwardly on your tongue. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, a little too hard, almost enough to draw blood, as you straightened up in his arms again. Everything inside you buzzed with nerves and anticipation. Your limbs felt foreign, like they weren’t entirely yours anymore, like they hadn’t adapted yet.

Harry let out a soft puff of laughter through his nose, not in a mocking way, just warm and genuinely amused. “Yeah, silly girl.” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’ve sat in my lap before. C’mon, it’s okay.”

You hesitated for a moment, just long enough to let your nerves crawl under your skin like a static, but Harry’s touch on you was steadying, grounding you. He slid his free around your waist, giving it the softest squeeze. A quiet, wordless promise.

You shifted slowly from your place, climbing into his lap like a muscle memory. Like all these years before in drunk slumbers and laughter, only this time there was humming something else beneath your skin than alcohol.

It felt almost clumsy at first, awkward in the most achingly human way. Your knees bracketed either side of his hips, and your hands instinctively found his chest, steadying yourself as your palms met the heat of his skin through the thin cotton of his shirt, his heartbeat strong beneath your touch, rhythmic and calm. And Harry didn’t rush you. He didn’t tease. He just held you patiently and tightly, like if you weren’t toeing the edge of something so fragile.

“See? Nothing to be scared of with me.” he whispered, voice barely above the rustle of the blanket beneath you. “You can change your mind, you know. I won’t be mad. You set the rules here.”

“No, I’m fine. I just don’t know what uh, how-” You stumbled over your words, the weight of his gaze made you feel like a small, clueless girl who didn’t belong in this moment. Not when it came with your inexperience in something as simple yet monumental as kissing.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Harry murmured softly and began rubbing slow, soothing circles into your arms, trying to coax the tension out of your body. “You’re so tensed, baby.”

A quiet huff of frustration escaped your lips as you tried to shake out your limbs to force the anxiety out. You hated that your nerves were betraying you like this.

Once your breathing evened out a little, he reached up, his left hand gliding up to the side of your neck with practiced ease. His fingers were gentle but sure, angling your head just slightly to his wanting, thumb grazing the flutter of your pulse point from time to time.

Your breath hitched when he leaned in. His nose brushed softly against your cheek, dragging a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Then his lips joined the same path, pressing featherlight kisses to your skin, slow and deliberate, a wordless message of reassurance in each.

“Lemme kiss on you for a bit.” he whispered against your jaw, his breath hot. “We’ll get you calm. It'll feel so much nicer then, I promise.” Another kiss, this one closer to his final destination. “Don’t think too hard, sweetheart. Just… feel.”

As Harry pressed gentle kisses along your cheeks and jaw, your hands became restless. You didn’t know where to place them, what to hold onto, how to touch him in a way that felt natural. The slight tremor in your fingers didn’t help either. Eventually, you reached for his free hand that was resting loosely on your side, holding you in place, and laced your fingers through his, guiding your intertwined hands in your lap.

“You’re still doing okay?” he asked gently, pulling back just enough for your breaths to mix. His voice low and tender. “We can stop if you want.”

“Mhm… don’t- don’t stop.” It came out more shaky than you wanted, but still sure. You squeezed his hand in what was supposed to be (your) reassurance. He responded instantly, giving your fingers a firm but gentle squeeze in return.“Take a deep breath for me, yeah? In and out… That’s it. Good girl.” The words wrapped around you like a soft blanket. Harry tried everything to soothe you as much as it was possible. Yet your nervousness was adorable to him. how stressed out you were over something as kissing, something he did almost every night without thinking.

And a few moments later, his lips found yours.

They were warm and impossibly soft, like cushions brushed in the slightest trace of smoke he must’ve had earlier. It wasn’t quite a kiss, not yet. More of a hesitant touch. Lips brushing, delicate and unsure. A question, not a statement. You tilted your head slightly, testing the angle, testing the feeling. Trying to learn him.

The next kiss was fuller, a proper press of lips on lips. No longer just testing the waters, but committing to it deeply. You could feel the corners of Harry’s mouth curve upward into a subtle smile the moment you mirrored the motion of his lips with newfound confidence. His hand slid from your jaw to cradle your cheek, fingers spreading gently, thumb brushing over the reddening skin in soft motions. The softness of his touch grounded you, even when your heart felt like it could burst out of your chest at any given moment. He held you close like the most precious thing in the world, and you couldn’t help but wonder, if he touched the girls he had overnight the same way or if you were special.

You exchanged soft pecks and gentle kisses for what felt like minutes, maybe more, you lost track of time right after his lips were on yours. Each kiss grew a little bolder and deeper. Every so often, one of you sighed into the other’s lips, or tentatively brushed in a curious lick. “You’re doing so good, sweets. Open up your mouth a little, yeah?” Harry murmured between kisses and with a small peck to the corner of your mouth dived back in. This time, his tongue flicked gently against your lower lip, tasting you, asking without force.

The room had fallen into a hush of quiet noises - occasional whimpers and wet sounds of your lips. The movie still played in the background, long forgotten, only the light coming from the TV reminded you of it with colorful shadows across the walls.

You parted your lips just slightly as he asked, enough for him to deepen the kiss, enveloping you like a warm cocoon in the moment. His tongue stroked gently past yours in a motion that made your stomach twist and your fingers clutch his tighter in surprise. Harry immediately sensed the shift in your body, the new tension clutching at your limbs, and pulled back just a little, replacing the intensity with a series of softer pecks, grounding you again with the calm rhythm of his thumb on your cheek. “Everything okay?”

You nodded, maybe a little too quickly, breathless and wide-eyed. “I didn’t know it would feel this… this intense,” You finally breathed out, barely finding your voice and opened your eyes to look up at him. And with the one single look full of something unspoken he gave you, you were completely gone.

Harry was quiet for a while, watching you, how your chest rose and fell too quickly and your shoulders still held the tension of uncertainty. But nothing about it felt wrong. Not even your lingering nervousness. Everything felt exactly as it should be. In this moment, with you two finally together.

“Intense?” His voice was quiet, like if he didn't want to startle you even more, not that he could. His touch grew even more gentle as he reached up, brushing a strand of our hair behind your ear. “Bad intense or good intense?”

“Good intense. It feels like… a lot. Right here.” You brought your intertwined hands up between you and guided his palm to your chest, right where your heart thudded wildly beneath your ribs. He felt the subtle moving of your muscles and you could see his smile softening, one corner of his mouth tugged up again. “But it feels so good.”

“That’s normal. Means it’s real. We are.” The words felt like the most precious thing you wanted to treasure forever. Lock it in the coffer and swallow the key. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, gentle and light, and it made you giggle, loud enough to ease the tense atmosphere.

“You’re my favorite person ever, you know that?” Harry murmured, his lips brushing barely against yours in a whisper of a kiss. His fingers were buried in your hair, mindlessly wrapping strands around them the way he always had. A habit he never seemed to outgrow.

“Do you tell that to every girl you kiss?” You couldn't stop yourself from asking. The question was laced with a vulnerability you didn’t want him to see. But it would burn your tongue if you kept it in a second longer. This situation was getting more dangerous with each touch and word, pulling you into depth you couldn’t crawl away from.

“Just you.” He finally leaned in and stole the breath right from your lungs with the touch of sincerity. There was no rush, no pressure. It was the kind of kiss that told you more than words could. It was everything.

Your lips moved with his, slow at first, but growing more confident as the time passed. The rhythm between you got bigger meaning than the word ‘natural’ had. Your free hand slid up at the side of his neck, fingertips massaging muscles on his neck with pressure and softness at once. Harry hummed quietly in response, a sound that vibrated more through your chest and down to your core than ringed in your ears. A wordless answer, a praise at how good you were doing. He kissed you again, and again, until your mind went quiet. Until you became the definition of being kissed senseless by the boy who knew your heart better than anyone else ever would.

Minutes slipped by unnoticed when you pulled back, just enough to let your forehead rest against his. Your breaths mingled in the small space between you, hot and uneven, slowly syncing as your lips tingled, still swollen from his kisses. Your brain felt mushy, your thoughts scattered somewhere between the couch cushions and the soft curve of his mouth. There was the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. Held, tender and safe.

Your chest heaved in a shaky rhythm as you tried to find your voice again, managing only a breathless whimper that instantly caught his attention. “I- uh I think we have a problem.”

Harry blinked at you sleepily, still caught in the dazed haze of making out. “Huh?” His brows furrowed as he squinted at you, clearly confused, like his brain hadn’t fully caught up with the words that left your lips. His grip on you subtly tightened, grounding you both in case whatever was going through your mind might shatter something between you.

You glanced away for a split second, cheeks heating as you tried to gather your courage again. “I’m gonna need your kisses every day after that…” Your voice was light and honest, but laced with something deeper. It was more than just admitting a passing joke. It was real. And it felt too right to regret.

You saw emotions swirl and shift across Harry’s face. He was stunned, caught completely off guard by your words, frozen for a beat before a loud, genuine laugh burst from his chest, vibrating through yours. “Baby!” He groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you close like he couldn’t physically contain the joy bubbling inside him.

He peppered your skin there with chaste kisses and loud smooches that left big ‘mwah’ sounds behind, before pulling back just far enough to meet your eyes again, grinning like a fool.

“We can arrange that. Don’t worry.”

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giuliannna · 2 days ago

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⟢˚₊‧ SOMETHING NEW

you weren’t exactly intending on sticking around, but you just couldn’t deny the offer. — dealer ! hamzah masterlist

you don’t even need more. not really.

you’ve still got some left in your drawer, maybe a gram, more than enough to last through the weekend.

but when the thought creeps into your head - maybe i should text him - your fingers are already moving, typing out a casual hey, you around?

it’s not like you meant to become a regular.

you weren’t supposed to have a dealer. you’re not even that kind of person.

but after that first night, after the awkward little deal outside the dingy building, something kept pulling you back.

everyone else is a regular customer of his - so what’s wrong with you indulging, too?

he’s easy to text, to meet up with. he never overcharges, never pushes the limit, always shows up looking a little disheveled and stoned and stupidly hot in a way that makes your stomach twist.

you tell yourself you’re just being efficient. it’s better to stock up before you run out, better to stick with someone reliable.

it has nothing to do with the way he grins when he sees you, or the way he fumbles over his words, or the tiny discounts he’s slowly started giving you every time you pull up.

nothing at all.

tonight doesn’t seem any different. you meet him in a mostly empty parking lot, tucked off a side street. he’s leaning against his car when you roll in.

he straightens up when he sees you getting out of your car. he pushes his hands into his pockets, his eyes flicking over your frame.

“hey,” he says, a familiar and soft smile tugging at his mouth.

the deal is smooth. it always is. the exchange of drugs, of money, of quick glances. the way both of you always say ‘thanks’ or ‘appreciate it’ to each other a little too quietly.

you’re tucking the baggie away, already turning to leave when you hear him clear his throat.

“hey, uh - wait.”

you turn, brows raised.

he’s scratching the back of his neck, shifting awkwardly, mouth tugging into something caught between a grin and a grimace.

“i, um.. got a new strain in,” he says, pulling amother tiny bag from his pocket. “wanted to see if you.. wanna try it.”

you pause, staring at him for a second.

this is new.

you’ve never smoked with him before. never stuck around longer than maybe five or six minutes, no matter how badly you want to.

“it’s cool if you’re busy,” he adds quickly, cheeks flushing under the dim streetlights. “just figured - y’know. if you wanted.”

you glance down at him crinkling the baggie nervously, and then back up to look at the soft pink tinge creeping up his ears. something inside you unravels. a curious feeling.

“sure,” you agree, smiling. “why not?”

he gives you a look that looks something like relief - but you don’t want to assume. he tips his head towards his car, motioning for you to come closer. an invitation.

you step forward and lean against the hood of his car beside him, watching as he pulls out papers and starts rolling.

his fingers move quick, with practice - pulling apart the bud, pinching it between his thumbs, laying it smoothly along the paper right in the palm of his hand.

you find yourself watching a little too closely. the easy precision of his fingers. the way he runs the tip of his tongue along the edge to seal it, barely noticeable but somehow fascinating.

he’s not even looking at you - he’s focused fully on the joint, brows furrowed just slightly.

you feel something low in your stomach pull tight.

absently biting the inside of your cheek, you silently shame yourself for being so affected by the routine that he’s probably gone through countless times. it shouldn’t be this entrancing.

he glances up just as he finishes, catching you staring, and gives a small, crooked grin.

“you’re good at that,” you murmur, tilting your head.

he laughs under his breath, a little startled. “been doing it a while,” he says sheepishly.

he lights up, inhales slow, eyes falling half-lidded as he exhales into the night. he then offers it to you, fingers hovering just a second too long when you take it from him.

you inhale, letting the taste settle warmly in your chest, feeling fog creep into the edges of your mind.

“s’good?” he asks softly, watching you.

you nod, smiling a little. “mhm.”

for a while you pass it back and forth without much talking, just the quiet crackle of the joint, the occasional creak of the car under your weight.

“didn’t think you’d actually stay,” he says after a long pause, voice a little rough.

“hm?” you glance over. “why?”

he gives a small, crooked grin, shrugging one shoulder. “i dunno. you’re - i mean, you usually seem like you’ve got places to be.”

you snort softly, shaking your head. “what, do people usually stick around?”

he looks down. “well, i guess not,” he murmurs.

you smile, bumping your shoulder against his. “i’m just messing with you - and i don’t mind staying.”

he laughs, scrubbing a hand through his hair, eyes crinkling at the corners. “yeah, well. thanks.”

you feel a flicker in your chest at the way he says it. the underlying tone is a little self-deprecating, but with that endearment that keeps sneaking up on you.

“honestly,” you say, turning slightly to face him, “you’re not what i expected.”

he tilts his head, curious. “yeah? what’d you expect?”

you shrug. “someone sketchier. more stereotypical.”

“right. sorry to disappoint,” he replies, taking another hit. you watch smoke pour past his lips.

“nothing’s disappointing,” you say. “at all.”

a grin spreads across your lips as you watch him shyly drop his gaze to his shoes, outstretching his fingers to offer the joint to you as a distraction.

he doesn’t say anything in response to that, but the flush on his cheeks is undeniably there.

as the night thickens, the air begins to bite at your skin, making you twitch with a slight shiver.

“cold?” he asks softly, gaze flicking to you.

you shake your head. “m’fine.”

he hesitates, like he wants to say something else, but swallows it down. you catch the way his hand twitches at his side, like he’s debating offering his jacket but can’t quite work up the nerve.

you smile to yourself, heart tightening unexpectedly.

this isn’t supposed to be anything.

but smoking next to him, feeling your chest ache a little at the way he keeps stealing glances at you, all quiet and nervous and sweet - it’s something.

he shifts suddenly, pulling his phone from his pocket when it buzzes against his thigh. the screen lights up, casting a faint glow across his face.

you watch the way his brows pinch together, his mouth pulling into a faint line as he reads whatever message is lining his screen.

you tilt your head, curious. “everything okay?”

“yeah, s’fine - someone just needed a pickup,” he mumbles, immediately tapping out a reply. “m’not really planning on-”

“shit,” you unintentionally cut him off, pushing off the hood of the car. “sorry, you should probably go, right? i didn’t mean to keep you.”

“wait.” he blinks. “no, i-”

“no, seriously, it’s okay.” you reassure him, straightening up and brushing ash off of the front of your shirt. you think you’re doing the right thing.

you’re misreading it. but he can’t tell you that.

he opens his mouth to explain.

to tell you that he already declined the client in the text he sent, that he was never planning to leave just because someone else needed him.

but the words catch in his throat, stuck and useless.

because what’s he even supposed to say?

‘no, stay. i already told them no. i want to be here with you.’

like that wouldn’t immediately blow his cover and make you ask questions he’s too much of a coward to answer.

he’d never be able to formulate any reasonable explanation as to why would he deny business just to spend more time with you.

taking notice of his stressed countenance, you make your voice light and gentle. “seriously. it’s fine.”

he forces a small, crooked smile, heart hammering stupidly in his chest. “yeah,” he murmurs. “yeah, you’re right.”

no, you’re wrong, his mind screams. stay. just a little longer.

“thanks for sharing,” you say teasingly.

“yeah, i mean - you’re welcome. anytime, really.”

fuckfuckfuck. he thinks. fuck.

“so, um..” he looks at you, then quickly away. “you, uh, want me to text you next time i get something new?” he asks, dragging this out as much as possible.

you raise your brows. “oh, so now i get early access?”

he laughs breathlessly, cheeks flushing faintly. “yeah, maybe. i mean - you’re, like, one of my best clients now.”

“right. i don’t know if i should be proud or embarrassed about that,” you murmur, smiling.

he ducks his head, grinning, mumbling something like “both, probably.”

you pull your keys from your pocket, glancing at him one more time. the air feels charged, a little too thick, like you’re missing something about this entire exchange.

“see you around, hamzah,” you say softly after a small pause.

his head snaps up, eyes wide and warm.

“yeah. see you,” he says quickly, voice a little rough.

you turn, walking back to your car, feeling hamzah’s gaze stick to your back like a magnet. as he opens his own car door, he mutters curses under his breath that don’t quite reach your ears.

as you slide into your driver’s seat, you let out a slow breath, your heart beating faster than it should be.

you aren’t really supposed to care. but your stomach’s twisting, and you’re somehow already wondering when you’ll get to see him again.

xoxo giulia

taglist: @gulicore @slushedup @arroganceisherfavoritecolor @layzerzlovesu46 @babysitter19 @marixoa @starjely @viennawaiits @h-yalexaaaa @freakzah444 @anginluv @gabwilliams @sturniyolo @screamertannie @brlwla @yourstrulykiya @thefantastickid @hamzaholic @isathefantastic @divinesturn @forestlv4r @mayapuma20 @ottakugirl @hamzahsbestone @pulcen @rustnroll @venus-planetof-love @hamzahsn1gf @rock678 @wandas-lovey @guiltyfemcel @axetheboyboss @harrys0nlyange1 @ttlynotme @yassqueen1303 @animalcrossingshameless @bigmamaelli @pictureperfectblue @slushingmynoob @cupidsbrainrot @hamzahsbaby

#giulianna ⁀➴#dealerhamzah ༄#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah imagines #hamzah x reader #hamzah fic

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 17 hours ago

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i dont know how many asks you have built up, but hullo :3

Wondering if you could make a little fic of reader with a biting kink and sub!Steven? It could go any way you want, but I can just imagine this scene:

Marc waking up, feeling all sore and stingy in certain areas and seeing reader blissfully sleeping like they didn't just bite the fuck out of the body. He stumbles to the bathroom, looks in the mirror to see bite marks all over his neck, chin, shoulders, arms (and some on his thighs 😼). Marc, talking to Steven in the reflection, asks why the hell would he let reader keep chomping on the body like a chew toy, and Steven was just like "well, bruv, you should have seen them on top of me last night. I couldn't say no to that face" Marc, Steven and Jake have been dating reader for a while, and they know all to well about their biting kink, that a different reason they summon the suit to heal (even though they sometimes keeps the bite marks on like a display to others that they have a sex life. I feel like Jake would taunt others and be like "yeah, my lover owns me" and other people could be like wtf??)

Extra points of reader is a demihuman 😼

Thank you so much for the ask! Ahhh!

Sorry this has kind of gone in a different direction.

Love Bites

Steven Grant x Marc Spector x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: Marc has a problem he needs to share.

Warnings: Kissing, biting, pet names, Marc and Steven having a conversation (bickering), fluffy silliness, swearing, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 973

Steven moans softly as you straddle his thighs, your hands on his cheeks as you kiss him and lightly push him back against the pillows. His fingers dig into your waist as he kisses you back, leaving him breathless, lightheaded.

Which isn’t helped by the blood rapidly rushing downwards.

You rock against him lightly as you lick into his mouth and nibble on his bottom lip, breaking away for just a moment to tug his t-shirt up and off. Steven helps you eagerly, throwing it to the side as if the material had personally offended him.

When you go back to dragging your lips along his throat, he groans loudly, wriggling under you in excitement, his heart thudding in his chest.

“Love,” he moans, needy and wanting. He places his warm hand on the back of your neck, applying a firm but not oppressive pressure.

You know what he wants, what he craves. But instead, you smile and run your tongue along his jugular.

“Love.” He pants, a little harsher this time and you just about manage not to giggle at the indignation in his voice.

‘Steven.’ Marc’s voice echoes in his head, clear as day and he rolls his eyes.

‘Bit busy now mate.’

There’s a pause, and even though Steven doesn’t look over to the mirror, he can feel Marc shiver, the sensations starting to bleed over, his arousal.

‘Yeah, I get that.’ Marc pauses, but doesn’t fade back.

You nip lightly at the spot under Steven’s ear. He shudders, whining beautifully.

‘Maybe you can…’ Marc swallows.

‘Spit it out mate, come on. Me and Jake have talked to you about this. It’s not really fair that you’re constantly dropping in on, well, intimate moments with us, but when it’s the other way around, you get all pissy and-’

‘This isn’t about that.’

‘Isn’t it?’

Steven can feel Marc frown at his sarcastic tone. But neither of them comment on it.

‘Look, it’s about the biting-’

It’s almost like you can hear them. At the exact moment the word is out of Marc’s mouth you sink you teeth into Steven’s neck and suck.

Steven yelps, arousal burning in his lower stomach. His grip on you tightens. “Oh, fuck love, yes, that’s what I want.”

‘Steven.’ Marc tuts.

‘I don’t care if you’re here or not, don’t act like I can’t tell when you’re in the background watching to get your rocks off. You’ve got a vouyism thing, I swear down, all high and mighty on your horse acting like you don’t when you watch all the blood time and-’

‘Steven-’

‘But do not give me the condescending mother goose voice when I am trying to have a nice time here, yeah? It’s a bit of a mood killer.’

‘I’m not trying to kill the mood!’ Marc snaps back, going from his stern slowness to matching Steven’s fast pace. His accent is stronger when he’s frustrated, and now it’s out in full force. ‘It’s the biting! Does it always have to be with the biting?’

‘First, is this really the time to be discussing it? Second-’

‘I think it’s the right time, the best time. You hardly ever-’

‘Second, you one to talk!’

‘Bullshit.’

‘It’s true!’

‘What the fuck are you talking about, Steven?’

‘You love getting bitten.’

Marc gasps, trying to sound insulted. But it falls short. ‘I don’t.’

‘Yes you do!’

‘I don’t!’

‘Protest all you want, but I know you do Marc.’

‘That’s a fucking lie.’

‘You’re a fucking liar.’

‘Steven, I’m not, shut up!’

‘You just use the suit to heal them after, but I know, Jake and I both know.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘What’s the real problem here?’

‘I…’

‘Yes?’ Steven waits.

Marc sighs. ‘Look, can you, you know, heal them after too?’

‘Why?’

Marc squirms a little, embarrassed. ‘‘Cause… I get… worked up… when I see them, feel them, on the body…’

Steven snorts involuntarily and then quickly stops himself, internally apologising. ‘Are you saying you get a boner from some bruises?’

He can feel Marc’s glare.

Steven chuckles. ‘You do!’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Oh, you really do. That’s bad mate, really bad, a fetish for sure.” Steven teases and Marc scowls.

‘Fuck off.’

‘A deviant they’d call you.’

‘Like you don’t fucking get the same?’ Marc snaps. ‘Acting like you’ve never got turned on by anything.’

Steven relents, internally holding his hands up. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just teasing. I’m not trying to really upset you.’

Marc pauses. ‘Yeah… I know… sorry. I just…’

‘I’ll heal them after.’

‘You don’t have to.’ Marc says quietly.

‘You don’t have to fuck off either, you can stay and…’ Steven pauses, realising that your lips are no longer on his neck. He opens his eyes to look up to you, confused. “Love?”

You smile at him. “Marc or Jake or both?”

“Hmm?”

“Who you were talking to?” You lean down again and kiss his cheek.

“Oh, how did…?”

“You go still and sort of, move your lips a little, like you’re asleep.”

Steven blushes a little. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” You shrug.

“Not very sexy, is it?”

You chuckle, “It’s fine, I’d do the same if someone was talking to me.”

“Still…” Steven smiles.

“So, who were you talking to?”

“Marc.” Steven touches back into their shared space. Marc’s still there, though he’s stepped back a fraction. But he’s not pretending he’s gone. “He’s hanging out.”

You smile and stroke his hair.

“Now, I believe you were in the middle of something?” Steven wiggles his eyebrows at you, giving you a cheeky look.

“Oh, was I?”

Steven nods. “Something that you’ll have to finish, love. You have no choice.”

You giggle at his teasing tone, “Oh, well,” you shrug, pretending as if it’s some great chore. “If I have no choice.” And lean back down to suck a love bite into his skin.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist:

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @lonelyisamyw-0love @romanarose

@steven-grants-world @blushingrn @to-be-a-sunshine @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87

@lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood @hammerhead96 @mylittledelulucorner

@queerly-anxious @swiftiegirliepop @oscarssimp @eternallyvenus @lounilu

@pigeonmama @iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @sub-aro @faretheeoscar

@queerponcho @twwcs @ingoldthewizard @ominoose @ierofrnkk

@have-you-seen-my-sanity @missdictatorme @musicalnacho @buckyssugarchick @lemonzestinmydrink

@sonotpractical @junggoku @julesonrecord @heavydirtysoulsblog

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cuteandhughesy · 1 day ago

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Secrets I Have Held In My Heart | Jonathan Kovacevic

summary: you and johnathan are left to deal with the aftermath of your secret relationship as tabloids get a whiff of the forbidden romance, all while johnathan is dealing with a nagging injury.

[word count] 3.5k

a/n: after some amazing ideas and suggestions from @hockeyjunkieblog I knew I had to re-visit this story. everyone go give her some love because she is truly the mastermind behind this two part kovy story ❤️❤️ as well, thank you so much for 1500!

read part one here !

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

the anti climactic sound of moderate beeping from various hospital machines invade your mind, all while your leg bounces and twitches with nervous anticipation.

hospitals always have you feeling this way though—because besides babies being born and the ding of a cancer free bell, what kind of positive noises come from a hospital? exactly.

it doesn't help that johnathan lounges on his hospital bed, seemingly cool as a cucumber as he waits for his surgeon, flipping through tv channels like it's just another day of being lazy on your apartment couch.

the cherry on top is the arm behind his messy head of hair—the good kind of messy that he gets anytime he's between your legs and you've been pulling and tugging on his locks like a starved woman. if it wasn't for the anxiety coursing through your veins, the hospital gown wrapped around his body would be sexy. especially in the way it's gotten so tight around his bicep that it's practically ripping stitches.

but it's not sexy, because your boyfriend is about to have a huge surgery, one that will put him out well into the beginning of next season—and you're positive that you're more frightened about it then he is.

like johnathan can sense your weary, his warm eyes flicker away from the tv in the corner of the stark white hospital room, and find your hunched over figure.

"take your thumb out of your mouth baby. you're gunna bite your skin raw."

like a scolded child, you quickly pull your thumb out from between your teeth and slide your hand between your thighs—you hadn't even noticed the nervous habit you'd been caught in until johnathan pointed it. you’d been too focused on his vitals and the sound of rolling beds in the hallway to worry about your damn cuticle.

but of course, your boyfriend noticed.

your straighten your posture and with wide eyes, you just stare back at johnathan, unsure what else to say. because since that injury sustained during the playoffs, your boyfriend has been hearing the same questions and pity answers from everyone around him.

are you worried?

everything will be alright, kovy.

will you be back before the season?

keep your head up.

what's recovery going to look like?

and you're really trying your best to just chill the fuck out, and just be there for him—even though all you want to do is coddle him and kiss his knee like that will magically heal him.

you blink, all doe eyed and sweet, and johnathan can't help the way his lips slowly slide upwards in the beginning stages of a smirk.

"how are you so calm right now?" you blurt out before you can properly think the brazen response, a half amused expression on your face. the other half? complete disbelief.

he shrugs a shoulder while sliding the small tv remote back onto the top of the side table, leaving the marathon of how I met your mother to play quietly through out the room.

johnathan pats the sliver of space his gigantic body doesn't take up, "come here."

you shoot your boyfriend a tentative look, which only makes his smirk grow. regardless, johnathan doesn't need to ask again, because you're already getting to your feet and shuffling towards the crisp hospital bed.

as your thighs hit the edge of the cheap, foam mattress, you hesitate, arms crossed over your gray sweatshirt—his sweatshirt—your gaze naturally falling to his surgery prepped knee, propped up on a pillow and wrapped in some sort of bandage that looks way too tight.

you really have to fight the urge to check it.

but johnathan is grabbing your elbow before you get the chance, unwinding your crossed arms before pulling you down to the bed, practically tucking you into his lap. and because he's a pain in your ass, he winces, all dramatic and like he's in pain.

"oh god," you jump, twisting yourself out of his hold in an attempt to get off the bed. "your knee!"

"relax," johnathan snickers, easily pulling you back down. "i'm just messing with you."

you grumble like you're annoyed even though your body relaxes from his soothing words. "that's not funny johnathan," you smack his chest with a hearty thump—he barley feels it. "this is serious stuff."

"johnathan?" he repeats, "what happened to johnny?"

"you're only johnny when you're not pissing me off."

he laughs but doesn't say anything yet, opting to press a lingering kiss to the side of your head before further pestering you. "am I pissing you off because i'm trying to make you laugh? or is it because you're nervous?"

your head naturally finds the dip between johnathan's neck and broad shoulder, and even if you're not in a state of relaxation, the feeling of his hard body under your cheek has you sighing out all low and content.

your lips part, unsure what you want to say. the last thing you want to do is make johnathan nervous when he's clearly not. as well, you don't want him to feel like you're trying to take attention away from his injury. not that you are, and not that johnathan would ever think that—but still.

subconsciously, you begin tracing little patterns on his chest over the material of the blue hospital gown, "I just want everything to go smoothly for you."

your tone is so cautious and heavy that it makes johnathan frown. "it will be okay, baby," he tells you warmly, lips brushing against your makeup free forehead as he speaks.

the softness of it all has a pleasant shiver rolling over your skin. "I know, i'm just...worried about you."

"don't be." he shrugs and squeezes around your ribs.

you laugh incredulously, tilting your head back just enough so you can look up at him. your neck pulls in protest, but it's all worth it when you see that your boyfriend is already looking down at you with a fond grin on his face.

"kind of hard not to when i'm in love with you." you huff lightly.

"awh, my pretty girl." johnathan's compliment trails off in a way that has your belly swooping. he closed the small distance between you and steals a familiar kiss.

"at least say it back," you chime once you separate, "you know, just in case you die in surgery."

"it's a knee surgery, babe."

you squint, "anything can happen johnny."

your nickname for him has johnathan smiling in a boyish way. "I love you," he mutters, thick fingers absentmindedly raking through your hair. "and when we get home you can coddle me and kiss me and make me soup like I know you are dying to do."

at first, you jaw goes slack with disbelief—because, yeah, that's quite literally all you've been yearning to do. after a beat, you drop your head back to his collarbone, "ugh, you know me so well it's sickening."

a firm, quick rap on the hospital door as you sitting up. a young nurse, no older than 25 with curly hair tightly pulled back, and beautiful skin, pokes her head in after johnathan permits her entrance, her dark eyes wide and eager.

"mr. kovacevic? the surgeon is making his rounds and will be with your shortly to go over the final details of your procedure."

your boyfriend nods and sends the young girl a polite smile, "perfect, thank you."

the nurse closes the door once more, the choatic sounds of the hospital hallway dulling as the entrance closes. you sigh again, eyes flickering back towards your boyfriend.

you reach out and push your hand through his thick, dark hair, running your nails over his scalp. you bite into your bottom lip cautiously.

johnathan gives you a look, one that tells you to chill out and stop being such a worry wart. you can only shrug sheepishly.

"you ready?" he prompts, taking ahold of your hand.

"are you?"

"fuck yeah I am—ready to get back to normal."

you shake your head slowly, "you're ridiculous."

"you're pretty."

"that's not getting you out of this."

the left side of his mouth quirks up, "I love you."

"I love you." you drawl dramatically. "I guess."

johnathan scoffs, "you better give me a kiss after that—I might die in there you know."

he's clearly teasing, but your eyes widen all the same. "johnathan!"

—

your hands pause on the sudsy dishes when the sound of johnathan's sock covered feet, followed by the clicking of crutches, sluggishly sound down the hall.

he's not long back from his overnight stay at the hospital—which, thankfully the surgery went as good as the doctors hoped, and if everything else goes smoothly, johnathan will be back at the rink next season—and he's supposed to not be walking around. not with a wrapped up knee. and certainly not without your assistance.

especially if it’s for something stupid like the last then—when he claimed he needed more berries in his yogurt.

"baby," you start firmly, wiping your wet hands on the rubber duck dish towel johnathan insisted he needed on your last trip to TJ MAXX. "you're not supposed to get out of bed."

you spin just as he emerges from your hallway, hazelnut following behind him like the attentive cat she is—sliding between his legs and crutches in a way that makes you nervous.

both you and johnathan decided that while he's on bed rest, that him staying at your place would be the most comfortable option. it was closer to his doctors office, and if he's in your space, you're able to hover him and baby him. it's really a win win.

you're expecting a half smirk and some childish excuse about being bored when you face your boyfriend, but instead johnathan is sporting a set of panic riddled eyes and a ghostly pale face. his cellphone, which has been his saving grace during his bed rest, clutched tightly in his big hand.

instantly, your stomach drops. "what's wrong?" you take two cautious but quick steps towards him, beginning to close the distance between you. "are you in pain?" you prompt, voice wavering while your eyes subconsciously dart down to his leg—bandage concealed under his oversized sweatpants.

"no," johnathan swallows, voice an octave lower than usual. it only makes your worry grow tenfold. "it's, uh—" he trails off with another rough gulp. a loaded beat passes, nothing but hazelnuts claws clicking on the floor as she switches between your and johnathan's legs, and then he juts the phone in your direction.

confused, you take his cellphone. you let your eyes linger on his sickly expression for a second before they dart down towards the phone. you read the tweet lighting up the screen—and just when you thought your stomach couldn’t churn anymore, it practically jumps to your throat, bile threatening to escape.

because there, on twitter with more activity than you can count, is a collection of pictures, all containing you and johnathan. together.

they're from a few days ago, outside the hospital after surgery. johnathan, in a wheelchair with his knee all tucked and swollen under his wrap, accompanied by you.

you who's pushing his hair pack and holding your tote bag full of johnathan's essentials.

and johnathan who's staring up at you, lips puckered asking for a kiss. and because god has decided that he wants you to suffer, there's also a photo of you giving him said kiss.

you're going to be sick.

fan spotted devils kovacevic leaving the hospital after planned surgery looking very close to devils assistant coach, y/l/n.

there's been rumours. of course there's been rumours. you're a young, female coach in the national hockey league. surrounded by young, rich men. if reports and fans weren't questioning you about your team, they were questioning you about a look you gave to hischier, or why you sat so close to hughes during team breakfast.

and that's not to say your relationship with johnathan is a complete secret. you both disclosed your intimacy to the head of the devils management mere weeks after you and johnathan reconciled from your weird half breakup. you'd fully expected to be fired, but surprisingly you weren't.

obviously, you both promised to keep it strictly professional—with your plans to eventually move down to the farm team to coach once all the pieces fell into place. and management was fine with it, as long is it remained under wraps.

they didn't want the drama. they wanted to protect the integrity of the organization.

but as you stare at these no less than incriminating photos, you know you've failed them.

rumours are easy.

rumours can be denied, and most of the time, are too ridiculous to be believable.

but pictures? pictures were you're kissing and touching and just being a couple? that's just straight up proof.

you're not sure how long you stand there, finger tips wrinkled from the dish water and bare toes on display while you stare at the comments and headlines coming in—calls and texts from johnathan's teammates flashing on his screen as the pictures spread across platforms.

all you know is that your mouth is so dry that your tongue feels stuck in place.

johnathan slowly pry's the phone from your fingers, and that's when you see that your hands have started to tremble. "it's okay," he tells you, pocketing the device without so much as a second glance at it.

tears well in your eyes, lips parting is disbelief and violation. you didn't even notice the eyes on you outside the hospital—why would you l when your boyfriend was freshly out of surgery and starting his recovery?

regardless, you should've been more careful. smarter.

"it's not okay," you croak helplessly.

johnathan slowly shuffles the final step towards you, mindful of his leg. he pulls you into his chest so tenderly that it hurts your heart, arms wrapping around your shoulders and just holding you there.

he kisses your head and keeps his lips there, unwilling to separate himself from your warmth. johnathan inhales your scent, basking in the way it immediately soothes his whirling thoughts.

you can't help but to cry pathetically into his chest, eyes clenched tightly while you fist the fabric of his hoodie. the rug you've been balancing on has been completely pulled from under your feet, leaving you a wobbly, uncertain mess.

the pictures flash behind your eyes, making you open them once again.

"we'll be okay," johnathan mumbles into your hair, palm sweeping up and down your spine. "we've got each other. everything will be alright."

—

the past week has been hell.

every time you eyes close, you're transported into a dark, never ending hole of despair.

you've always been good at turning a blind eye, and keeping your chin held high in regards to derogatory and misogynistic comments retaining your job position.

mostly stemming from the fact that these no good trolls had nothing on you but their own sick, disgusting assumptions. but now—with pictures and proof floating around online—these comments have gotten worse. and worst of all, they’ve become true.

you've been a walking zombie since that day twitter blew up with those collection of photos. handling nothing more than your daily routine of feeding johnathan and the cat—usually forgetting to eat yourself unless your boyfriend sits you down and forces food down your throat—making sure his medication is in order, cleaning, showering and then going to bed.

you just feel...weird about everything going on. you feel like a phoney. and you know you shouldn't, because your relationship with johnathan overshadows everything else in contention to this messy situation. but you can't help it.

it's not until you and johnathan are both called into a meeting with management that you start to feel normal again. because it's there where you're told that there's nothing you could've done. it's not your fault.

it's unfortunate, of course, but there's nothing else to it besides that.

it's the biggest weight lifted of your shoulders when those words come from managements mouth. because when its johnathan telling you those things, it's different. he has to say that because he loves you. but management honestly couldn't give a fuck less.

which means yeah, you're definitely not retuning to your position behind the devils bench next season, but that's to be expected.

johnathan had been a little upset about you loosing your job, but once again, like you've done many times, reassured him—and yourself—that the job isn't your dream. he is.

management puts out a difficult statement the following day regarding the photos and your resignation.

and truthfully, that's when you expected the heavy feeling to return to your chest—when the comments started again and you were confirmed to bed this painted puck bunny—but it never came.

oddly enough, you felt free.

when you had expressed your new found feelings to johnathan on your couch, hazelnut curled up on his strong thigh while you rested your head on his even stronger shoulder, he started to grin.

"well," he breathed, scratching your scalp absentmindedly, "now I have a whole new excuse to love you louder."

and yeah, you think, he does.

—

johnathan's weight is delicious on top of you. his body is pressed so tightly against yours that it's almost suffocating, but you invite the pressure in like no tomorrow.

the first thing johnathan did after his doctor gave him the all clear to ditch the crutches and begin using his legs normally, was that he took a slow jog around your dining room table—because he’s 5 years old, apparently.

but after that he threw you down to the mattress and climbed right on top of you.

because according to johnathan, and you quote, 'I am sick of only being able to do cowgirl—not that i'm complaining about having your tits in my face, but you know.'

to which you responded, 'you're lucky I gave you sex at all with that bum ass knee.'

which had johnathan cutting you off with a firm lick up your slick slit, sucking on your clit in the way that makes you cry out every time.

he's already made you cum three times, and if it wasn't for the way your legs were currently shaking around his thrusting hips, you'd wipe that smug smirk off his face. or kiss it off. whatever.

"fucking hell baby," he grunts, lips brushing your sweat smeared forehead, "can feel you fluttering again."

you whine, pathetically at that, back arching off the mattress until your chest is even tighter against his—nipples brushing against his dusting of chest hair oh so perfectly. "oh, gunna come again."

and isn't that the truth. it's only been a few minutes since your last climax, but you've been teetering on that blurry in between line ever since.

when johnathan slips his hand between your intertwined bodies to rub quick, firm circles on your puffy clit, you cry out in pleasure—orgasm washing over you and heating your already scorching body.

that fourth orgasm seems to be the final push johnathan needs. his abs tighten and clench in a way that, if you were looking, would surely having you drooling, before he cums. warm ropes of sticky seed filling your spent entrance.

"holy fuck." he breathes roughly, "you feel so good. you okay?" his warm eyes flicker away from where your bodies are connected and up to your blissed out gaze.

you’re panting as you quirk a brow, "are you? knee bugging you at all?"

johnathan pulls out slowly, but you still whine like a sad kitten at the feeling. he is momentarily distracted by the sight of your mixed fluids seeping out of your entrance, a boyish smile pulling at his lips as the cum pools on the bedding.

you hit his torso with your knee.

his eyes dart up to yours again, smile only growing. "don't worry 'bout me baby." he crawls back over you and captures your slick lips in a dizzy, slow kiss.

you sigh into it, shaky hands sliding to the back of his neck to hold him closer—painted toes curling happily when johnathan slowly slips his tongue along yours.

"don't worry about anything," he hums after a beat, forehead pressed to yours once again. "not my knee, not your job and not those stupid fucking comments and articles."

your chest falls with a long exhale, "I can't help it. and I feel fine—I do! but with everything still swirling and circulating, it's just hard not to get in my head about everything."

he hums thoughtfully, pushing some of your damp hair away from your cheek. "I know, but it will all blow over soon."

curious, your brows tug inwards. "does it bother you?"

a beat passes before johnathan shrugs a lazy shoulder. "it bothers me only because it bothers you. but what they're saying—we know it's all bullshit. so they can say what they want." he trails off with a playful squint. "like, i'm planning to put a ring on that finger and pump you full of babies—"

"johnny-"

"—im serious. I don't care about anything but you. so let them talk because it really doesn't matter."

eventually, you nod, leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss against johnathan's soft lips. "okay. you've got me?"

he kisses you back, longer and firmer than the previous one. "i've got you."

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aespabangedbang · 15 hours ago

Text

SULLyOON NANNyOON HONEyOON

Writer's Note : Wanted to write about Sullyoon for a long time, here it is.

Tags : DUB CON, I wrote it a while ago so forgot the tags.

Warning : Anyone who have an issue should see a doctor about their inability to fuck.

Word Count : 2125 words of submission and happily ever after!

I am a 23 year old successful manhwaga, divorced and now a single father of a daughter named Sera. Yeah, I had a wild teenage life. But that immaturity costing me now. My wife and first love left me for wealth 2 years ago after Sera's birth, I was poor back then. Devasted, heartbroken and helpless those day's memory brings the better taste back as I wake me, really distasteful.

Sullyoon, the 21 years old nanny of my daughter and household helper came even before I woke up, now taking care of my Sera. She is from a poor family otherwise surely she could become a Kpop idol with her tall, toned and curvy figure with a doll-like face that turns all heads.

Some even mistake her for Sera’s mother, she is that close to her. She has a caring, sweet, shy and kind soul. I am grateful to her for taking care of Sera and keeping my life hassle free. A part of my success is thanks to her dedication to my little family.

But my peaceful life is threatened by her family's arranged marriage for her. My life got messed once, I am not letting that happen twice. “I want you, beside me, as my daughter's mom, forever.” I mutter as I am devouring her sexy body in tights and cropped hoodie from behind, her toned abs are looking appetizing. She is busy playing with my daughter.

The lingering need for her and my years depraved hunger for sex is increasing my lust every sec. Today I will make her mine, by hook or by crook. I also write erotic pornhwa in a different pen name, I am going to use that shady side and expertise of mine today.

I wait till Sully makes Sera asleep and goes to do houseworks. I creep behind her, Sully almost screams suddenly seeing me behind. I calmly thank her for her service for the last 2 years. She politely says it's just her job. I don't beat around the bush and directly say that I want her beside me, as Sera’s mom for the rest of our life.

Sullyoon’s eyes palpate hearing me as if she really wants it deep inside, but she declines politely saying she is now engaged. I grab her face hard and look eye to eye, I say it's not a request. She has to be Sera’s mom, or my life will get ruined again. She just have to say yes, I will manage her family!

She shakes her head sideways to say no, it's time for the crooked approch. I lock my lips with her in a sudden forced kiss. My tongue going inside her mouth, my teeth biting her lips drawing blood. She tries to break free, but my grip behind her head is strong. My other hand is exploring her butt creek with my finger, her soft boobs squished against my chest.

I only let her go once she started whimpering and sobbing. She tries to run away with her shaking body but I hug her tightly from behind and drag her back to the living room and press her on the sofa. My lips lock her again, my hands under her crop hoodie squeezing her perky firm boobs.

She tries to stop me but I easily overpower her both hand with my one hand, the other one busy trying to undress her. She starts begging to stop me, says that she is still a virgin, she can't disappoint her family. She tries to fight back kicking, but I got between her legs. My bulged cock pressing against her wet crotch.

She bites on my hand, but my rude hard slap with other hand on her blushed face makes it redder. I hiss at her pulling her hair and tell that I will make sure her family have no other options but to give her to me. Sully’s teary eyes gets stunned, she understand my plan immediately. There are many cameras around my house.

Specially the living room is packed with 5 camera to keep an eye on Sera. Having sex here with me mean I can use that footage to break her marriage. Her family is poor, they can't fight aginst me in the court and marry her to someone else after that will be impossible. So giving her to me is the only option that will be left for them.

I don't have consent for this oppa, it's rape! Please stop! We can think something… She tries to convince me while sobbing but I don't let her finish. I kiss her again, sucking the tangy taste of her bloody lips. Like a blood sucking demon I look at her and say, it's ok Sully. I will give you a life full of happiness and abundance, just endure today’s discomfort.

Ignoring her gradually weakening protest, I keep undressing her like a Christmas gift on the mat where she was playing with Sera even a moment ago. She is even more beautiful up close and naked. Her body is a piece of art, those supple boobs and ass, thick thighs, hourglass thin waist and her shaved wet juicy pussy that's really like a plump ripe peach! Her face is dripping with uncharted beauty. Sullyoon is mine, this virgin beauty is only for me to take and devour.

I lower my face on her pussy, I can't wait to eat her big muffin anymore. I make a big bite, taking as much as I can of her finely shaped pussy. She tries to stifle her moan, but can't as my tongue darting inside and slurping her virgin juice. The musky scent of her pheromones, sweet pre cum and salty tasted sweat soaked crotch is already making me drunk!

I throw my shirt and pull my boxer down in a frenzy, virgin Sully looking at my 5 inch long but thick manhood with fear. I set my cock at her entrance in classic missionary position and just shove. Even with full wet arousal, she is so tight I can only go an inch or so. She screams in pain but I muffle her with both hand, don't wake up Sera Sully, I will fuck you anyway so it's no use.

After 4 hammering and agonizing inch by inch thrust I completely impale her with my cock, soon red blood starts leaking around her pussy and coating my cock. I tune down my pace and keep fucking her virgin pussy slowly. Her moaning mixed with pain and pleasure is like melody in my ears. Now that I am in and she is not fighting back I am trying not to put her in any more distress.

I lean on her, elbow on the ground as I am caressing her head while wiping her tears and snot. I say to her that it's ok Sullyoon, oppa have fallen in love with you, I will keep you safe and sound for the rest of our life. Please, just please don't leave us Ill fated father and daughter alone. You are the mom Sera needs, you are the wife I wish I had!

Sullyoon is barely moaning now as her pussy got stretched wide for my thick cock, the pain getting overwhelmed by carnal pleasure. She lock her beady big eyes with mine, lips pouty and shaking in a mix of polarizing emotions. Her sweaty face is looking so surreal like I can’t even believe such a beauty is in front of me!

Suddenly she grabs my hair and pull my head in for a kiss, that's the first time she reciprocated my so far questionable actions. My heart jump, is that a yes? She agrees to be a part of our family? Yes? The answer is obvious as she is now exploring my mouth, her lips still leaking some blood.

I didn't touch any girl for more than 2 years since my divorce. Now that she is willingly having sex with me, it makes me way too horny. I sped up, each of my thrust sending shivers down her body. I rise and put a cushion under her waist, then start jack hammering deep in her rapidly. My fingers rubbing her clit, I am hellbent to make her orgasm before I do.

She starts screaming out loud and her loud moaning is echoing through the room. Soon Sera’s cry come into our ears as she woke up from her soon to be mother's lovemaking. Maybe the shame send her over edge as Sullyoon come undone, her back arches, pussy spasming around my cock as her body quivering from her first ever orgasm. Her squirt drench her thighs, my cock, balls and stomach. I slow down, giving powerful thrusts that's drumming her ass with meat slapping sound.

In or out Sully? I ask her gently, she says it's not her safe time. Sigh, after few more thrusts I pull out and put my wet and bloody cock in front of her face. She doesn't want to suck but like hell I am gonna listen. I shove my cock in her mouth and start face fucking her like mad, using her pretty face like a cheap fleshlight. I masterbated months ago, so very thick and huge load of cum fill her innocent mouth, she starts coughing as cum spruts out her mouth and nose.

I order her to drink my sticky milk, she obediently gulp down all of it. I kiss her forehead lovingly as I help her sit up. Her flushed hot body melting in my embrace. But she rushes me saying Sera is crying. I help her quickly wiping her pussy, lips and face. She doesn't waste any time and run to Sera’s crib, though limping from a deflowered wounded pussy. Her delicious looking big ass suspending form her thin waist swaying around like pendulum. What a fine bitch she is!

I follow behind, of course I need a taste of that ass. She is busy changing Sera’s diaper while I bury my face in her ass, my tongue immediately started to rim her puckered hole while both hand spreading her butt cheeks apart. She is whining as it's hard for her to change Sera’s diaper while getting leaked in her ass. I say it's only natural that papa clean mama the same way mama clean Sera, right?

Sullyoon really tried to find a corner where she could run and hide from this shameless man but having no such option she only digest the erotic absurdity of mine, with a pouty face getting loved by a mad manhwaga. Do I need to keep explaining what other shameless act we did for the rest of the day after periodically taking care of Sera now and then?

No, she didn't go back home that day. We were fucking a pair of rabbits whole time. Sleeping the night snuggling Sully as Sera was beside us was the most fulfilling night I had in years…

It's been 3 years we got married. It was very smooth sailing as Sullyoon agreed to marry me. Her parents were reluctant, kept saying about the engagement, keeping their words and what not nonsense but a few sec of sneak peek of what Sullyoon and I did made them go silent once and for all. With both family’s blessing we walk the isle and here we are.

Where? At Sera’s kindhearten because through spoiling from her momma Sully has turned her into quite a bully. Sully and Bully? See, it's you who is in the fault here. This remark only makes her furious as she says she will see who is the problem once we return home. Sigh! I am completely against my gal becoming a macho but Sullyoon is ready to fight me to defend her daughter.

She loves Sera more than me I guess. Sigh, I face other way, what a devilish woman! She pinches me painfully as Sera is running toward us, a silent warning to not say anything to Sera. Every woman is a trouble once they get married and a ticking time bomb when they become a mother. Sullyoon being a mother since day zero makes it even worse. Sigh, just sigh!

Though I listen to everything she says the whole day, the bedtime is all but mine. That's the house rule. I am particularly going rough with the deepthroat today, it's her punishment for being such a pain in the ass this morning. She is thrashing her legs to pull me out, but I am not making it easy. I am gonna make her throat raw so her yapping is going to be less at least for tomorrow. Keep choking on the daddy meat you freaking mommy!

The End up Sullyoon's mommy asshole 🖕

#sullyoon #nmixx #nmixx sullyoon #nmixx smut #sullyoon smut #kpop girl group smut #kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #smut #nmixx × reader

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r0manceplanet · 3 days ago

Note

okay yipee yay!! haven’t done these in a hot minute so apologies if this isn’t that great… i’m trying >_> !

fandom: forsaken plz!!

pronouns: they them

gender/sexuality: non-binary androsexual (best way i could put ittt ^^)

personality: ummm… i think i’m generally a pretty nice person, i’m rlly empathetic and i luv to talk yap yap i like to run my mouth! i cannot keep it shut and i’m rlly bad at keeping secrets oops. i’m kindaaa stubborn and a big over thinker but i try reallyyy hard not to be;;; i just wanna have fun and b chill ^^

hobbies: ummum arts! anything artsy! like graffiti. baking is sooo awesome and fun doing things with your hands is great. i love music a LOT (specifically rock/metal/alt) and enjoy going to concerts!! i’m also big on conspiracy theories & psychological philosophy :3

likes & dislikes: i generally like weird/creepy things, any sort of horror media! & being outside & doing things, like exploring or looking for bugs. like i said i <3 philosophy but i also love the unknown!! and theorizing!! and debate!! collecting/hoarding things i like is fun too, like knives & license plates. oh and rubber ducks. photography!!! pictures are everything to me!!! i don’t dislike much but i guess umm… the dark! i hate that. strong smells & loud noises freak me out. ppl who are mean to animals babies and old people are a different kind of evil.

mbti & zodiac: enfp 4w5, gemini!!

love languages: acts of service above all but i also adore words of affirmation!! i don’t care much for gift giving.

what i look for/want in a partner: someone who can keep up w/ me, i guess! i get bored quickly, i usually wanna always go do something. i hate silence and i hate distance, i need to be able to vibe & have fun with them always!! i’d also prefer someone who isn’t shy ^_^ .

thank youuu my goat please take your time!!! 🧡

FORSAKEN MATCHUP #1

A/N: Ahhh my first request for a matchup!! And to whoever sent this ask to me thank you so much!! And I hope you enjoy who you get! And, matchups for forsaken are open to everyone!

Press “Read More” to see who you have been matched with!

You have been matched with… Chance!

• It took me some time to think about who to match you with, and I did have a few characters in mind before I thought of him, and when I did he seems to match you the most, I feel like you two would function so well together.

• Chance is a really calm dude, he can work under pressure and is able to talk to anyone really, I mean, who wouldn’t like him? He’s never fallen in love before you, he was always focused on gambling and the casino he owned. Before meeting in forsaken, you would’ve met him in his casino while you were hanging out with your friends.

• When he met you he was immediately focused on you, why? something about you made him interested in you, maybe it’s because of how much you love to talk with him, and he’s always listening to you yap and adding into the conversation, it’s refreshing for him to find someone to match his energy.

• When you guys start dating, he would spend ALL his money, which you would have to stop him before he goes broke. But he would buy an entire store if you wanted one thing, that’s how devoted he is to you.

• He would definitely bring you to concerts, I can see him as someone who would go to concerts of bands he likes, you guys always have a blast whenever you’re at a concert to see your favorite band, and as a surprise he’s arranged an appointment for you to meet with your favorite idols.

• He always compliments your artwork, he’s in awe whenever he sees your paintings or drawings, he’s someone who would point out the smallest details in your art, and he LOVES it whenever you bake, and if you bake anything that he likes he’s gonna eat it all in 1 minute and ask for more.

• He loves hearing you talk, including if it’s about theories you bring up, he’ll love to theorize with you and debate, you can get him to talk about ANYTHING, off topic but, whenever you guys are chilling at home or out on a date, he would take pictures of you that have amazing views.

• Whenever you’re overthinking about something, or anything that’s bothering you, he’ll always make sure to tell you that you can go to him for anything, and he is of course… He’ll be your emotional support animal if you want. No matter what situation you happen to be in, you’ll always have him, and he’ll always have you.

Round-Ups:

Shedletsky, John Doe

#forsaken roblox #forsaken x reader #forsaken #forsaken x y/n #forsaken x you #roblox #roblox x reader #roblox matchups #matchup #matchups #forsaken matchups #forsaken matchup #chance forsaken #chance roblox #chance x reader

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yuurivoice · 14 hours ago

Note

I totally get hating like parent type questions for the boys, but would it be out of line to ask why you aren't a fan? Don't feel pressure to answer, it's really your business and your business only. Either way I hope we'll all make an effort to stay away from that area in the future!

The flashback EP is INSANE, thank you for feeding us Mr. Voice, the YouTube algorithm's choices on what and what not to age restrict always baffles me, I feel like the Auron yearning one was incredibly tame

Because in a medium that caters specifically to women 90% of the time, I've done my best to remain both gender and sex neutral. The specific fantasy of seeing the boys in a fatherhood role, while not explicitly tied to carrying a baby to term, is a very logical assumption the audience would want to make.

And that is wildly exclusionary.

So, let's follow the thread of "well it could be an adoption, some kind of au where they already had a kid, etc" and we end up with a loud audience of people who then want the pregnancy fantasy specifically. And I get to keep saying no, despite already caving in and giving the fatherhood thing.

There is also a segment of people out there who want to be the one being babied. I've literally had ppl ask for parent roleplays where listener is the offspring. And while I don't doubt that someone out there needs to hear assuring, confirming words from a parent, it sure as hell ain't worth someone being creepy about it. Mind you, I'm not just talking about ddlg type shit, that's fine. No biggie there.

This can of worms keeps going, I could list a dozen more ways that there's some kind of uncomfortable potential issue. Versus...me just saying nah fam I'm good!

So I'm good! Also my fuckin swimmers don't swim and I'll never be a bio father, and i have conflicting feelings about it, which I'll throw in for free as a "do ya get it now?" final point to make. People got their reasons for things, both personal and professional.

It's not a huge deal, what really bothers me is the way it would alienate a fairly significant amount of the audience, or open the door to it.

I absolutely understand the appeal, it's just not something I'm looking to tackle in any scenario where the listener may be involved. I've got plenty of parent characters, though none are in the active role of parenting a young child at the moment. 😂

This is why I come up with other ways to show characters nurturing, teaching, or doing other fatherly things in less direct ways. But yeahhh. That's my deal. It's not a huge burden or issue when people ask, it just bums me out because certainly someone is going to see the question being asked and feel like someone out there didn't consider them in this scenario. And that blows, even though it's obviously not a malicious thing.

As for YouTube, it's veryyyyy likely just the proximity of the kiss to the word fuck. These systems are too stupid to realize the deal. 😂

#yuurivoice

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rizlowwritessortof · 3 days ago

Text

Endless Road

This was written for @impala-dreamer 's Through His Eyes - A Dean Winchester Writing Challenge. Thanks, Beka! The prompt (in bold in the fic) was the quote "Goddamn it, you need to hear me!"

Pairing: Dean x Reader, established relationship

Word Count: 2060

Warnings: Angst, Dean going out of his mind, maybe a little hurt/comfort

Impala dividers by @firefly-graphics

We’re flying low, the trees just look like a green blur outside the windows, and I’m just hoping the cops are busy with something besides speed traps today. All I can think about is getting there faster. I keep thinking there had to be something I could have said that would have stopped her, but fuck, I know better.

She’s just as stubborn as I am.

We just finished up a case in Hawthorne, Nevada – and I was thinking, hey, not too far to Reno. Maybe a mini-vacation before we head home. Then my phone rang.

“Hey, Dean!”

“Hey, sweetheart – on your way home?” She’s been in Greenville, North Carolina, visiting her sister, and it’s been way too fucking long.

“God, I’ve missed you, baby.” Her voice warms me all the way up. “Can’t wait to see you. But – and don’t get mad – I ran into a little snag on the road.”

“What kind of snag? Why would I be mad?”

“Kind of ran into a case.”

Okay, now I was mad. “Damn it, you promised no hunting on your own.”

“I know, I know – but how can I not do something, Dean?” I’m grinding my teeth, trying to be patient and let her finish, but I’m about to snap off a molar or something. “Dean, my sister’s friend – her daughter went missing. And I started checking things out – I’m pretty sure it’s a djinn.”

“Jesus Christ, you know how dangerous it is messing with a djinn without backup! You can’t – look, listen, we just finished up here, we’ll hit the road and go in and take care of that thing together, okay?”

“Dean, you’re clear across the country from me.”

“I don’t care. You need to wait for us. Promise me you’ll wait.”

“She could be dying in there.”

“So you already know where they are?”

“Yeah. I do. I’ve been careful, but Dean…”

“No! Goddamn it! Promise me you’ll wait, babe. Please.” Sometimes ‘please’ works. Not usually.

I could hear her breathing on the other end, probably trying to think of some way to tell me no that wouldn’t make me explode.

“Dean – I know you’re worried, but don’t be. I’ve been hunting for a long time, I can handle it. You’re two days away, baby, and that girl might not have that long.”

“Son of a bitch.” At least I didn’t yell. “I don’t like it. You should have backup, it’s too fucking dangerous. Is there anybody out there? Hunters?”

“Not that I know. Dean, I know you’re pissed and I know you’re worried, but I’ve gotta do this. I’ll be okay. I’ll call you later.”

“Sweetheart, wait… Hey! Damn it!” She’d already hung up, and I knew she wouldn’t answer if I called her back to try and talk her out of it.

So here we are. I’m driving like a fucking idiot because I’m going out of my mind. I need to be there now. Fuck, that’s it, I’m never letting her go anywhere alone again, I should have known she’d find something to hunt, that fucking instinct of hers…

Sam keeps offering to drive, but if I’m not doing that then I’m going insane. The only thing I’ve heard from her since that phone call is a text with the coordinates and a message – ‘I know you’re driving like a maniac trying to get here, please be careful and don’t worry.’ Yeah, like that’s happening.

I can’t stop thinking about the djinn I’ve dealt with, how close I came… Fuck. I can’t. I can’t lose her. I never thought – never – that I’d find somebody like her. Sometimes it’s almost like we’re one person, say the same things at the same time, laugh at the same stupid shit. She knows everything about me. Everything. The only person besides Sammy that really knows me. That I can depend on.

I fucking need her.

Shit, it feels like something’s trying to claw its way out of my chest right now. What if we’re too late? What if…”

“Dean? You okay?” Sam’s voice interrupts my doom spiral.

“I’m fine.”

“Want me to try and call her again?”

I nod my head, biting down hard on my lip to try and get back in control. Can’t afford to lose it right now, gotta focus, stay on the road, get there as fast as we can.

“No answer. Straight to voice mail.”

I nod. I don’t want to say it out loud, but I can’t help it. “Sammy, what if…”

“Don’t even think it, Dean. She’s gonna be fine. We have to believe she’s gonna be fine.”

I nod again. I’m trying like hell to believe. But that monster inside my chest is telling me there’s something wrong, and I’m having a real hard time keeping my shit together.

Endless road. Feels like one of those fucking nightmares where you’re running but you’re not getting anywhere. Every once in a while Sam bugs me about letting him drive so I can get some sleep, but I mostly just ignore him, or tell him I’m fine.

I’m not fine. I turn the radio on for a while, until I can’t stand the music mixed in with the noise in my head, so I turn it off again. Until the quiet gets to me, then I turn it back on again. Endless thoughts about what we might find when we finally get there, to go along with the endless driving down the endless highway.

Sam finally bitches at me enough that I agree to let him drive for a while. I probably won’t be able to sleep anyway, but at least he’ll quit nagging. I slouch down in the passenger seat, closing my eyes even though I know it’s hopeless.

Next thing I know, I’m waking up in a cold sweat, my heart is pounding. “Dean, you okay?” Sam asks, and I nod after a minute.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

He clears his throat. Here we go again with the positive thoughts. “You know she’s a good hunter, Dean. I’m sure she’s fine.”

Yep. And I’m done. “You keep saying that, Sam. Over and over. But if she’s fine, why haven’t we heard from her? She’s not answering her phone. If she broke it, or lost it, she’d get another one and let us know. She’s either hurt, or that djinn has her, or…” I can’t say it out loud, but it’s screaming in my head – ‘or she’s dead.’ But it’s not his fault, he’s just trying to help, so I take a breath and try to calm down. “Sorry, Sammy. I just… How much farther?”

“We’re about five hours away, I think.”

“Pull over at that station, I’m gonna get some coffee, and I’ll drive the rest of the way.”

He looks at me for a second, then finally nods. “Okay.”

We finally drive through the small town close to the coordinates she sent, and it feels like everything inside me is vibrating. I’m holding on to the steering wheel so hard I’m not sure I’ll be able to let go when we get there.

Sam gives me directions, turn left here, right there, 2 more miles and finally – finally – we’re pulling up to an old abandoned building, looks like it used to sell farm equipment or something. I’m out of the car almost before it’s completely stopped, heading for the trunk, the lamb’s blood and the knives so we can kill this fucker and find her.

She has to be alive.

Sun’s going down, it’s all shadows and dim light as we go inside, quiet, adrenaline has me so alert I don’t even think I’m blinking. We go down a dark hallway and into the main room, junk sitting everywhere, but we make our way around, scanning every inch for the djinn. I step around a pile of boxes, Sam goes a little farther ahead to come in a different way, and I see a familiar sight, like stepping back into one of my nightmares.

There’s a girl strung up by her wrists not ten feet in front of me, looks like she’s about 16 or so. Just as I get close to her, I hear a commotion and then Sam busts into the room, wrestling with that glowing blue sonofabitch. I tear ass over there, and we all go down in a pile, but he’s not strong enough to fight both of us at once. Sam drives that knife right into its heart, gives it a twist and sends it to Purgatory. Hopefully that was the only one – they’re usually loners, but we need to be careful.

I send Sam over to where I saw the girl, and I pull out my flashlight, start looking. There are a couple of other bodies hanging, but they’re long gone. I’m starting to panic, but then I move behind another pile of boxes and there she is.

I run over there, saying her name over and over again, begging her to wake up. I lift her off off the hook she’s hanging from, cut the ropes and go down to my knees with her in my lap while I carefully pull that fucking needle out of her neck. “Come on, sweetheart, you gotta wake up for me.” She’s breathing, she has a pulse, but she’s still unconscious, and I’m fucking scared.

My hands are shaking so bad, but I try to get her hair out of her face, lift her eyelids and look, but her eyes are rolled back and her mouth is dropped open. She probably put up a fight – of course she did, and that motherfucker probably gave her an extra strong dose to knock her out.

I keep talking to her, patting her face, and I finally lose it. “Goddamn it, you need to hear me! Come on, baby – fucking WAKE UP!” I’m holding her by her shoulders and shaking her, and she finally tries to open her eyes. “Hey, sweetheart – yeah, that’s it, come on, open your eyes for me. Jesus, baby, come on.”

“Dean?” She’s trying like hell to keep her eyes open, still limp in my arms. “Where – where are the kids?”

Fuck. “Hey, sweetheart, come on, open your eyes and come back to me. Look at me, baby.”

She slowly tips her head back and looks up into my face, it takes her a minute, but finally she’s actually looking at me. “Dean? What happened?”

I can’t help it, I just wrap my arms around her and pull her up into my chest and hold her. I don’t ever fucking want to let go, and I’m trying not to cry like a fucking kid. “Goddamnit, baby, you scared the shit out of me.”

Sam walks up just then. “Dean?” I can tell he’s worried, scared I’m just sitting there holding your body.

“She’s okay, Sammy. She’s okay.” I look up at him, and he lets out a sigh of relief, a half-tearful smile on his face.

“We should get her to the car. I have that girl in the back seat, she’s barely awake, I think we should get her to a hospital. We should get them both to a hospital.”

I nod, and manage to stumble my way to my feet with her in my arms. “I can walk, I’m okay,” she mumbles, and I can’t help but laugh a little.

“Maybe after we get you checked out.”

After checking that young girl in at the hospital with a bullshit story about a kidnapping, escape, and Sam and I rescuing them from a road ditch, we managed to get out of there before the cops came in, and headed down the road. I let Sam drive and sat in the back seat with her still in my arms. “Maybe we should get a room for the night, let you get some sleep?” I asked her, but she shook her head.

“I just wanna go home. Can we just go home?”

Sam smiled at me in the rear view and nodded, and I gave her a squeeze. “Okay, baby. We’ll go home.” We stretched out on the back seat, her laying halfway on top of me, my arms wrapped around her tight.

I’m not gonna be letting go any time soon.

Tag List #1:

@saenalife @deanscarlett @jensensgotyoudean @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog

@geeklibrarian @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @mrswhozeewhatsis @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sleep-silent-angel

@darcia22 @winchesterprincessbride @ellen-reincarnated1967 @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @deanslittleangel2y5

@melanie451 @spectaculacular-sammy @bookchic20 @jodyri @selma-jean-blog

@savingapplepie-eatingthings @kittenofdoomage @masked-maiden42 @lean-mean-deanwinchester @ericuhlorain

@undecided-garden @ceeceewinchester @typicalweirdbookworm @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @youtoldalie

@tanithlowisabamf-blog @deandoesthingstome @jxackles @nerdwholikesword @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic

@kreweofimp @gabavaldman @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog @darkx143 @disassociativedogma

#endless road #impala-dreamer #through his eyes - a dean winchester writing challenge #dean fic #angst #hurt/comfort

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fawnme1 · 18 hours ago

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THE SOFTEST THING — WILLNE

CHAPTER TEN

previous part ,, next part

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

You weren’t expecting anyone that night. Definitely not him.

You were halfway through demoing a vocal for a song that wasn’t even titled yet — something raw and half-finished with six different versions saved in your laptop as “idk2,” “maybe_final,” “WILL??,” and “no fr final this time.”

And then there was a knock at your door.

You pulled off your headphones, blinking in the dim lighting of your bedroom-turned-studio, and padded to the front of the flat. You didn’t bother checking the peephole. You already knew.

“Hey,” Will said, hands shoved innto his jacket pockets, looking slightly winded like he’d debated coming up the whole way. “Hope I’m not… y’know. Interrupting your intense reclusive artist arc.”

You stepped aside, letting him in with a crooked smile. “A little late for that, don’t you think? The internet already thinks I’m emotionally unravelling.”

Will chuckled, brushing past you. “Yeah, well, you kinda set yourself up for that with the saddest song I’ve ever heard.”

You rolled your eyes, shutting the door. “You’re not here to roast me too, are you? Joe and Alfie already fulfilled that quota for the week.”

“Nope.” He plopped onto your couch. “Just here to make sure you’re not spiraling. Also maybe to see if you’ve eaten. But mostly the spiraling bit.”

You grabbed two drinks from the fridge and joined him, but something in your body language must have shifted — because he looked over at you properly now, eyes softening.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, tone quiet.

You hesitated, then motioned for him to follow. “C’mere.”

Back in your makeshift studio space, the fairy lights glowed faintly across the wall, casting a warm haze over the cluttered desk and mic stand. Your laptop sat open with the DAW still running, vocals layered and exposed.

Will stepped in slowly, eyes sweeping over everything. “Wait… are you —?”

“Yeah,” you said, folding your arms. “An album. Kind of. It’s not done yet. But… I guess it’s real now.”

His mouth parted, clearly caught off guard. “You didn’t tell anyone?”

You shook your head. “Not even Alfie and Joe. I wanted to work on it without the pressure. Without people waiting on it or expecting some big concept. It’s just… for me. Until it’s ready.”

Will nodded slowly, gaze still flicking across the screen, reading a few track names. His smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“‘WILL??’ is a bit on the nose, don’t you think?”

You immediately stepped in front of the screen. “Don’t.”

He put his hands up, laughing. “Alright, alright. I’m saying nothing. Mum’s the word.”

You watched him for a second, waiting for the teasing to continue, but it didn’t. Instead, Will just looked around your space — really looked — and then at you, with this quiet sort of admiration you weren’t used to.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” he said. “For doing it on your own terms.”

Something in your chest flickered, warm and unsure.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “But don’t tell anyone. Seriously. I’ll know it was you.”

“I won’t breathe a word,” Will promised, settling back on the edge of your bed, arms resting on his knees. “I’ll just sit here and pretend I didn’t hear the best unfinished song of the year.”

You smirked, rolling your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m your biggest fan. So you’re stuck with me.”

You didn’t say anything to that — but you didn’t need to.

You just turned back to your laptop, hit play on the new track, and let it fill the room. Will didn’t say a word. Just listened. And that silence said more than anything.

You sat in the same spot you’d been in for hours — hoodie sleeves pushed to your elbows, hair tied up messily, and your laptop screen glowing with the final tracklist.

Twelve songs.

Ten you were confident about.

Two that made your stomach twist.

You hovered over the titles. You hadn’t renamed them. They still sat in the project file labeled:

“will1_finalmaybe”

“will2_finalforreal”

They weren’t love songs. Not entirely. They were moments. Snapshots of late nights and almosts and things you’d felt but never said out loud. One of them started with a voicemail you never sent. The other ended with your voice breaking on the last take — and you’d left it in.

Joe and Alfie hadn’t heard them. No one. Except Will — who still didn’t know they were about him.

Not explicitly, anyway.

You stared at the screen, heart beating a little too fast, and finally said it loud to no one:

“I’m doing it.”

The words felt terrifying and freeing all at once.

And, as if summoned by some cosmic timing, your phone buzzed with a text.

Will: got food. coming over. hope you’re ready to argue about which flavour of crisps is superior.

You snorted, thumbs moving fast.

You: only if you’re ready to hear the album

He replied instantly.

Will: wait. the whole thing?

You: yes. all of it. even the ones you think aren’t about you but definitely are.

Will: …i’ll be there in 7.

He was knocking by the sixth minute.

By the tenth, you were both curled up on your sofa, laptops open, headphones split between you. You hit play. And waited.

Will didn’t say anything through the first few tracks. Just nodded, tapped his fingers lightly to the beat, or closed his eyes during the slow ones. It wasn’t until track nine that he stilled.

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. The lyrics played out in the room like confessions:

“you’re in the background of my softest days / laughing like you didn’t change the way i breathe”

“and if you never knew, it’s not your fault / i hid it behind friendship like a coward”

You sat stiff, suddenly questioning everything. But then the track ended, and Will quietly pulled off one side of his headphones.

“That one,” he said, voice low. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

You finally looked at him. There was no teasing in his eyes this time. Just understanding. And something else you hadn’t let yourself hope for.

You nodded.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just leaned back, looking at you like he was trying to put together a puzzle he’d only just realised he was a part of.

“I thought maybe,” he said slowly. “But hearing it… like that. It’s different.”

“I wasn’t going to keep them in,” you admitted. “I didn’t want people speculating or dragging you into it. But then I thought — if I’m gonna do this, really do it, I have to be honest. Even if no one knows but us.”

Will was quiet for a moment, gaze still steady on you.

“I’m glad you did,” he said. “Because now I don’t have to pretend I didn’t feel all of that too.”

You blinked. “Wait. What?”

Will smiled, almost shy for once. “I mean, did you really think I was hanging around your flat, listening to demos, and reposting your sad songs just for the content?”

You opened your mouth to reply — but he beat you to it.

Softly, gently, like it was something he’d been waiting to do for a long time — he leanded in and kissed you.

It wasn’t a grand gesture. No fireworks. Just a warm press of lips and the quiet crackle of something shifting between you — yearsof almosts finally giving way to a yes.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“So… do I get a bonus track?” he murmured.

You laughed, still breathless. “Shut up and let me have my moment.”

#fawnme1 #will lenney x reader #willne #willne x reader

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corvusalbus93 · 14 hours ago

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Happy to hear; I often worry I ramble on too long (the ADHD-mind is a restless mind XD) And thanks – I had a pretty good idea who that Tav was when I started, but I too continued to develop her, and get a better sense of who she is as a character as I played.

My Tav does actually when possible go out of her way to help; her parents were Eilistraee worshippers. To help people, especially those in need, would have been something she’d have learned early on, even though the goddess was canonically dead and said parents died when she was really young. Though Eilistraee has come back in recent years, Tav isn’t actively worshipper her (though I wouldn’t rule out she might eventually), but her views align quite well with her church. For now/in game she’s more concerned with defying Lolth and not being the stereotypical drow everyone expects her to be. In other words: When in doubt, what would Lolth not do?

Okay that’s funny, cause my second Tav (Tamiel) is also a wild magic sorcerer– but he’s a tiefling, multiclass bard. Basically, he tried to find a way he could use magic without the risk of blowing up and semi-succeeded, as long as it’s bard-specific. When things get serious that’s when he gets out his sorcerer spells and all bets are off. (Another I play a githyannki Hexblade, who spent a few too many years in the Shadowfell and now seeks to avenge a friend who’s ascended, after she found out what that actually means.)

I swear Minthara’s favourite spell is “Viscous Mockery” and she isn’t even a bard.

I was worried to, once I’d decided to go with him, so I honestly checked if his first invitation was Tav’s one and only chance to initiate the romance plot-line. When I learned there was a second I had Tav get out of the conversation with a maybe... before she presumably went to hide on the “beach” with Wyll 😅.

Oh gods, I have the exact same with my second Tav and Gale. Those two boys are so cute together, but I don’t feel as invested, even now as I enter Act 3. I’m curious how it’s going to be with my Hexblade and Karlach, because they are not far enough into the story yet.

Yeah, he kinda ended up being the number one vampire-hater in this game (besides the Gur maybe).

I think Astarion did want to ascend, at least to get the power and the safety it represented to him – not to mention getting some justice/payback for what he had to endure these past two centuries. All of this made the rite so enticing, so think at least part of him did want to. He’s a good example of “we don’t always want the things that are good/best for us”. But he was nonetheless conflicted (especially once he sees Sebastian and learns the real number of souls), and then was confronted with the true cost. Himself, or at least the person he’s shaped and grown into since his escape. He’s already lost himself once, when he became a spawn and he doesn’t want that again.

It’s kind of a pattern with him. He accepted becoming a spawn to save himself, only to learn the true cost. Then at the start of the game he favours the tadpoles and the power they offer, until we get the Astral Touched Tadpole and finds out that he would turn. He straight up says he’s not touching that thing, before telling you the horrors of his vampire transformation. And then in Act 3, he shifts to the rite, begins to obsess over it.

And I love that the game explicitly tells you in the dungeon that he’s blinded by fear. Fear and hunger, he’s intoxicated and not thinking clearly. Which is when you can get through and remind him that he won’t be freed by this power. And indeed AA, while no longer be plagued by his hunger for blood, now hungers for even more power, thus continuing the overreaching and self-destructive cycle all vampires fall into. While Spawn Astarion can really be anything.

(Side note: I really love how after getting back to his feet, standing next to Tav and addressing his sibling , talking about the opportunities they all now have, “I want to live” starts playing for a bit. That’s no accident!)

I think it is in one of the conversations he can have with Durge that he reveals he realized one can’t live ruled by fear – which feels so meaningful coming from him, considering the rite and what the insight check reveals (I would have to check when this conversation exactly happens, haven’t completed Durge yet either).

Yeah, a ruthless Tav would only reinforce his established worldview, and I don’t think it would be realistic for him to open up to them as it would be with a neutral or good Tav. When it comes to cruelty I think he enjoys the sense of being the one in control/power. Especially early on, when his worldview has not been challenged yet, he will expect dynamics, where one party exerts power over another - that’s the only way things can be and he knows which side he’d rather be on.

I think the approval becomes less useful the further we get into the game. Especially in Act 3, depending on your choices you can be his partner, his friend, you can hate each other, not to mention he can be Ascended or a Spawn. All of which would wildly affect his character. They couldn’t possibly account for all of that so I think the approvals/disapprovals are not necessarily an accurate reflections for one’s individual playthrough, and maybe represent more of a baseline for him.

Oh yes, Act 2 is the real starts. And the two possible confession scenes are both really touching. I was also happy to get a scene with my sorcerer-bard after Araj, during which he could affirm his friendship with Astarion (I like to think that Tav distracts people with song, while Astarion pick-pockets, so now they are no longer allowed to go out alone together).

Always happy to chat; hope I haven’t overdone it.

The Truth Behind the Mask

(1/? part of “Astarion: In Search of True Self” — [masterpost here])

Even before I played, I kept stumbling upon Astarion fanart and memes that made me assume he was just some overrated character who was only popular because of his flirty, sassy attitude (I’m so sorry Q^Q). That’s why I didn’t have the best first impression even before I started.

And even in-game, when you first meet him, Astarion seems like a shallow, selfish and flirty guy - someone who doesn’t really care what others think and just follows his whims.

Couldn’t be further from the truth!

From what I’ve seen in some discussions on social media, though, a lot of players still hold that first impression - even after completing his route. I’ve even seen people call him a red flag, label him evil or say they were disappointed in general.

Also, I feel like most guides (at least the ones I’ve come across) simplify his character too much - mainly focusing on which choices will gain his approval or disapproval. Maybe that’s to avoid spoilers, but still. There are definitely other players who see the deeper layers too - so this is just my way of sharing my personal journey of discovering the real Astarion.

So, how did that first impression start to unravel? When checking with the guide and watching his reactions and body language, I started thinking about why the approval/disapproval tips work.

How Approval Looks on the Surface

Let’s look at some general tips for gaining Astarion’s approval points:

choosing evil replies/actions

seeking power

siding with evil characters

deceiving your opponents 

supporting his desires 

being understanding and accepting towards him

(bonus one, haven’t seen guides mention this) sarcastic replies 

And disapproval points:

making pompous heroic statements (like “Worry not! I shall save everyone!”)

helping the weak

being open about your party's situation (tadpoles)

being judgmental or unsupportive towards him 

naive/goodie-two-shoes responses 

In most cases, it is explained by his natural inclination towards evil forces and power, making Astarion seem like a self-centred and power-hungry vampire who might, with Tav’s influence, turn to become a bit of a better person. Or not. 

But while it’s technically true that those actions affect his approval, there’s much more nuance to why Astarion reacts the way he does - especially in the early stages.

So what's really going on?

The first contradiction that made me feel confused about the reasons for Astarion’s reactions was how nice Tav is being to him (of course, if you chose good replies during their interactions) – a person who is mean to everyone else would be just as mean to Astarion. It didn’t make sense to me; a kind and understanding Tav would fit much better in the story. 

So what is going on there? Why does Astarion need a kind and gentle Tav who is cold and dismissive to the rest of the world?

Because he is terrified. 

When we first meet our pale elf, he has just escaped (as in been kidnapped) from 200 years of slavery, humiliation and torture where his wellbeing completely depended on Cazador’s whims and every mistake meant punishment. Of course he’s paranoid. Of course he’s always calculating risk.

It’s not about Tav’s choices being good or evil, it’s about their possible consequences for Astarion. He doesn’t want Tav to be evil, he just wants to feel safe. That’s all. 

Let’s Look at That List Again

So let’s look at his approval/disapproval list again:

refusing to help someone - approve! we don’t want to risk

seeking power - yes, please! power means safety!

siding up with evil characters - they are strong, so why not use this to our benefit?

deceiving your opponents - we didn’t even have to fight and got want we wanted? don’t see a problem 

supporting his desires - maybe this time, I won’t have to fight for what I want

being understanding and accepting towards him - finally someone doesn't treat me as a monster

sarcasm - humor is our everything, especially when there’s nothing else left 

On the other hand:

making pompous heroic statements - you are saying these cringe things with a straight face AND putting us in danger? hard nope!

helping the weak - no one helped me, why should we bother

disclosing truth about their situation - have you heard about caution?! 

being judgmental or unsupportive towards him - no thanks, had enough of that

naive/goodie-two-shoes responses - are we going to be fine with a leader like that?.. 

What Kind of Tav Does He Need?

Astarion isn’t looking for an "evil" Tav - he’s looking for safety. Well, technically, he isn’t looking for anyone at all. But the kind of Tav he opens up to tends to be:

pragmatic, cautious and clever

emotionally intelligent

non-judgmental

strong enough to lead and survive

That’s why he feels comfortable with a Tav who might choose to be distant toward strangers but treats him with consistent care. In this context it’s not suspicious, it’s sensible. He doesn’t expect help from the world, and he respects those who understand that reality. In a hostile world, survival is more likely in a group, so he clings to the party and tries to secure his place using the only tools he knows: charm, wit and usefulness. And a part of that strategy, making sure the leader favors him and he won’t be cast aside, leads to his initial approaches for Tav. But we’ll get into that more in another post.

So if Tav shows kindness to him? That’s exactly what he’s aiming for. And it doesn’t even matter that much if they still go out of their way to help others - because if the care they show him feels real, that already shifts something deep inside. That already gives him a reason to start hoping that this might be real.

The Mask

So there’s the charm, the flirtation, the flair for drama. Some players may read that as shallow or even foolish. But it’s not. It’s a mask - one he’s worn so well and for so long that it feels real. It’s what kept him alive under Cazador for the last 200 years.

But if you keep going, if you give him time and space to feel safe, you start to see it slip. The closer Tav gets to him, the more glimpses we get of his real self - thoughtful and warm, wary and sharp, sometimes silly and awkward, and, beneath it all, deeply hurt. And if you stay with him through to the end, when he finally feels safe enough to stop performing, his whole demeanor changes. He’s calmer. More grounded. Still witty - but in a different way.

Still Astarion. Just more himself.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 astarion #bg3 analysis

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throughpatchesofviolet · 7 months ago

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Your little Heathcliff plushie is so cute that’s so awesome. He loves you

Oh my goodness ...? Thank you so much!! He's actually one of a kind, and I love him very, very dearly. I've been having a rough time, as of late, and hugging him always makes me feel better.

Here are a couple photos of him that I've yet to post!

I love taking pictures with him ... I know I said it, already, but he does make me feel better whenever I get down. He's my special little guy.

#Anon‚ I hope you know this made my night /gen #I started tearing up after I got this ... it just made me feel so happy ...#I really needed to hear some kind words ... thank you #also a little fun fact: I sometimes call him Plushbaby ... he's my only character plushie and I adore him #he also has his own blankie ... and a special spot to sleep every night ...#I feel a bit silly about how much I fuss over him at times‚ but he really is one of the best purchases I've made #and ... and he loves me ;~; /pos #< this is what got me #the Book of 🕯️#r: remind my heart to beat 💢#fave 💜#LCB Plushcliff #don't forget to write #scattered pages

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starpens · 3 months ago

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CRASH COURSE ﾉ xia caleb x female reader ៹ explicit content, unprotected sex, virginity loss, mentions of cheating (none actually happens), pet names (pipsqueak (sorry but i have to be accurate) gege, good girl), instructional sex, blowjobs, creampie, idk what this is i wrote it in 5 seconds i just needed an excuse to write caleb, not proofread :( ˓˓ WORD COUNT ᨀ 4.9k !

asking the boy you’ve known nearly your entire life to teach you how to have sex isn’t weird, right...? right?

caleb has taught you a lot of things over the years.

he taught you how to drive a car in the shopping mall’s parking lot, how to cheat at card games, how to avoid burning the house down by letting him cook for you instead, how to sneak underneath the turnstiles on the subway to avoid fees.

he’s reliable and sturdy and a little reckless, but also patient and nonjudgmental— creating the idea in your idea that he’s kind of all-knowing, that whenever you don’t know something caleb does, that whenever you need help, you turn to no one else but him. which is precisely why you’re standing outside the door of his bedroom right now, hand lifted to knock on it.

because surely, asking caleb to teach you how to give a blowjob falls somewhere underneath that category too, right?

it’s one of those rare moments when the two of you are off work at the same time. caleb, on annual leave for the next two weeks and you, taking out a handful of unused vacation days to spend time with your favorite person in the world. it’s like old times again, when you can simply walk down the hall and hear his laugh drifting from underneath the door as he plays some stupid video game with college buddies.

thinking of the old days is exactly why you’re hesitating at the door. there’s too much shared history between the two of you, too much to lose if this goes badly, if you’ve been reading him wrong all along and he doesn’t want the same thing. there’s no way you can march in there and ask the boy you were raised with teach you how to—

“door’s open, pipsqueak,” caleb calls, somehow knowing you’re there because of course he does. you used to complain that he must’ve secretly implanted a tracker in your arm because he always knows your whereabouts, which made games like hide and seek with him impossible.

knowing it’s too late to play it off, you walk inside his room, greeted by his devastatingly gorgeous grin. “hey, you. lemme guess— the fridge is empty? no? lightbulb in your room need changing again? huh… or did you just miss me?”

“uh,” you mumble, shifting your toes in the soft carpet of the rug in the middle of his room. “not exactly. i was just wondering if you had time to talk and— … you’re not wearing a shirt.”

you realize how dumb you sound as you point it out, it’s just that your brain short-circuits, turning into a syrupy mess at the sight of caleb without a shirt on, his dog tags resting against bare skin. you’ve seen him like this before, of course— but not since he up and left, gallivanting off into the world to become a hotshot military pilot.

he’s always been nice to look at when you think he isn’t paying attention, but god he’s pretty. your eyes blink almost in disbelief as you take in his broad, muscular form that did not exist while he was a cadet in basic training. your gaze can’t help but snag on the ripple of his abs, or the thatch of brown hair trailing from his navel to disappear beneath his gray sweats. he swivels in his stupid gaming chair, smiling at you with his stupid face—

“uh, yeah?” caleb laughs, forehead creasing in confusion like you shouldn’t be surprised and really, you shouldn’t. caleb is like a furnace, blood running hot even in the middle of winter. “gran’s got the heat turned up to max again. it’s like she wants to kill me.”

“yeah, right,” you shake your head, laughing skittishly. “sorry. i’ve got a fan you can borrow, if you want.”

“thanks,” he says, magenta eyes dragging over your form suspiciously, taking in the way you’re standing in the middle of his room fidgeting like a leaf in the wind, hands white-knuckling the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing, knees knocking together all nervous and cute. he frowns, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to give you his full attention in that heart-stuttering way he often does.

“what’s with you? not that i’m not glad to see you, but… did something happen? did someone do something to you?”

“no, no— nothing like that,” you hurry to reassure, voice cracking on the last word as your cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment, trying to find the words to say what you need to without crashing and burning. swallowing around a lump in your throat, you glance at the paused screen of caleb’s game before blurting out—

“can you teach me how to give a blowjob?”

caleb immediately chokes.

a lesson on what not to do.

the overclocked fans on caleb’s gaming rig whirs in a soft hum, the neon lights in his room flickering crimson streaks over his handsome face in the dark. he wonders if it’s post traumatic stress or prolonged exposure to cosmic radiation in the sky forcing him to hallucinate. obviously, he’s got too many marbles in one jar and not enough in the other because there is no way he’s heard you correctly.

slowly, he removes his headset. “come again?”

“i’m awful at it, ge,” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in exasperation. in fact, you don’t know if you’re awful at it or not because you’ve never tried. you’ve been too busy waiting on the man in front of you to stop torturing you both, but caleb doesn’t need to know that. “you see, i’m dating this guy, right? and we’ve been hitting it off well. i can tell he wants to take it to the next level, but i’ve never… and you— you’re good at everything, so i just thought…”

“thought i would give you lessons,” he finishes for you, his voice deepening to a rougher edge that makes you shiver. “so you can suck your boyfriend better. do i have it right?”

“y-yeah…”

“since when do you even have a boyfriend? you didn’t tell me anything,” he says, doing nothing to mask the disappointment in his voice.

“uh, we’ve… been seeing each other for a couple of weeks?” you fumble, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. “i didn’t want to say anything yet. in case it didn’t work out.”

“so you want to learn how to suck dick for a guy you��ve known for a couple of weeks?” he counters, a muscle in his jaw twitching. he’s got no right to feel jealousy, not when he’s wasted so much time attempting to be one thing in your life when you clearly wanted something else. he’s got no right, but the thought of you on your knees for someone else, someone that isn’t him, makes his blood boil enough that he already knows what his answer will be.

however, you’re already backing up towards the door, about to make a quick retreat. your plan was horrible, shame burning your skin like a brand. “what am i saying? oh my god, you’re right it’s stupid and wrong and gross. can we please just forget i even came in here—”

he lets you ramble for an excruciatingly long time, then he pushes out of his gaming chair and grins down at you like you just asked him to make a quick run to the convenience store. he stretches his arms above his head. “let’s do it.”

“w-what?”

you didn’t expect to get this far, honestly. you expected caleb to laugh at you, ruffle your hair, and call you ridiculous. but instead, he’s already striding to his door, thumb flicking the lock with a decisive click. when he turns, his expression makes your breath hitch— those unusual purple eyes molten, staring straight through you.

“first thing’s first, we need to lay down some ground rules, soldier,” caleb tells you playfully, stepping closer until your breasts brush against his midsection. his hand lifts, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “if you need to back out at any moment, you say so. no guy’s pleasure is worth your discomfort. and if i hear his name, whatever it is…” he pauses, eyes narrowing. “this stops. understood?”

you nod eagerly, fighting your smile as his scent envelopes you. he smells like spearmint gum, your shampoo that he’s been stealing since the two of you have been back at the house, and a hint of sweat from the stifling air in the room.

“use your words, pipsqueak.”

“y-yeah, i get it.”

his smirk is all teeth. “good girl.”

caleb guides you over to his bed, sitting down on the edge. his big hands reach for you, circling your hips and pulling you towards him until you’re standing in between his spread thighs.

“alright, my little student,” he jokes. “you wanna get him all riled up before the main event so start with something small like… a kiss,” he murmurs, eyes lifting to glance at your mouth as his finger traces the hinge of your jaw. “you do know how to kiss, don’t you?”

“of course i know how to kiss,” you grumble.

caleb nods and then curls his hand around the nape of your neck, pulling you down to his level. you lean with the pressure, slotting your hands in the junction between his neck and shoulder, sliding them up until you cup the underside of his jaw. then, you’re kissing him— kissing caleb, the boy who used to patch up your scraped knees with cute band-aids, who let you crawl into his bed after nightmares, who pretends he hasn’t thought about kissing you, about making you his, for years.

the kiss is messy, desperate and hungry, decades of pent up feelings behind it. a string of saliva keeps your mouths linked together whenever you pull back for air and when caleb’s tongue swipes across your bottom lip, you whimper and part your lips to let him in, body melting against his front until your weight’s toppling him back onto his elbows, hitching your leg over his waist to crawl on top of him.

his grip on your waist tightens, gently pushing you to stand once more. “this is feeling less like a lesson, and more like you just wanting to do this with me,” he teases, making heat flare across your cheeks.

caleb guides your hand to the waistband of his sweatpants, the heat radiating through the fabric searing your palm. breath hitching, you begin to sink to the floor in front of him but his hand shoots out to stop your descent with a breathy laugh. “no no no, c’mere. you’re gonna hurt your knees down there.”

backing up, he moves until he’s lounging against the headboard, impossibly long legs stretched out on either side of your sweet figure.

“still wanna do this?” he asks, lifting a brow. when you nod, he continues to speak, voice gravelly, “take it out then.”

your fingers fumble with the drawstring a bit, struggling to undo the military knot caleb’s tied there, but you manage eventually. peeling back the waistband of his sweatpants to free his cock.

you should’ve known it would be just as pretty as the rest of him— it’s the biggest one (the only one) you’ve seen in person. he’s thicker than he is long, flushed dusky pink with veins that make your cunt clench with the desperate need to feel them dragging along your inner walls. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, watching you reach for it, nearly sobbing when your hand wraps around him.

“fuck—!” his hips jerk and stutter in shock, hand shoving yours away with a quickness. you frown and bite your lip, retracting your grip as if you’ve been burned.

“oh no,” you rush out, moving back to sit on top of your hands like a scolded kindergartener. “did i do something bad? did i hurt you, cal?”

caleb’s chest heaves, breath punching out of his lungs rapidly, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to slow the speed of his heart down. he’s dreamt about you touching him like this for ages, and the image of your dainty hand nervously wrapping around his cock will be seared into his brain for the rest of his life. you crawl back towards him slowly, seriously worried. “caleb?”

“i’m fine, pip,” he sucks in another breath, then opens his eyes to look at you. “didn’t mean to scare you. you didn’t do anything bad, you just surprised me. go ahead, touch me again.”

“if you’re sure,” you mumble, then hesitantly circle your fingers around caleb’s shaft again. he’s ready for it this time, hot against your palm when you give him an experimental squeeze, making caleb hiss through clenched teeth. “how’s that?”

“a bit tighter,” he instructs, palm closing over yours to adjust your grip. you squeeze him tight, and the hitch of his breath makes you squirm, stickiness gathering between your thighs at the sound. “don’t just squeeze, guys like it when you stroke. base to tip— no, don’t yank it like a fucking joystick, pip. god.”

his protest makes you burst out in giggles before caleb is shushing you with a severe look, his purple eyes narrowed. sucking your plump lower lip in between your teeth to keep from smiling, you nod at him with an exaggeratedly focused look.

“wet your palm,” he tells you, rolling his eyes at your wrinkled nose. “getting a handjob from a dry hand hurts, it’s like sandpaper.”

“are you saying i have dry hands, caleb? i moisturize daily, unlike you,” you whine out, but you listen to him anyway— you’re a good student, after all, and you don’t want to do anything that’ll make caleb want to stop. you lick your palm a few times, eyes on caleb the entire time.

the next time you touch him is with a spit-slicked grip, dragging your hand up and down his cock in an inexperienced, sloppy rub that should feel uncomfortable, but caleb eats it up— hips jerking involuntarily, pearls of watery precum already beginning to leak from the slit of his cock. your gaze is transfixed on it, a little greedy too, watching it stain your knuckles with each stroke.

it’s that same greediness that makes you lean down and brush your lips against the head of his cock, cherry tongue lolling out to tentatively taste the salt-bitter precum beading there. caleb’s hips immediately kick upward in a desperate twitch, but he forces them still, knuckles ashen where they reach down to grip the sheets.

“easy,” he rasps, voice fraying at the edges. his thumb strokes your cheek briefly. “just the tip first, okay? don’t go trying to swallow me down or anything.”

you do what he’s taught you so far; flatten your tongue, swirl it around the head— like that, fuck— press it hard against the thick, sensitive vein running along caleb’s underside, then repeat. every time, you’re rewarded with caleb brushing your hair back, murmuring soft praises, or your personal favorite— his deep, almost nasal groan, the hard planes of his abdomen flexing underneath the heady heat of your tongue.

it’s intoxicating, watching him fall apart like this— exactly what you wanted when you walked into his room. you want to pass his class with honors, please him even more, so you drop your mouth open a little more and suck him in deeper.

too deep.

the thick ridge of his head nudges against your uvula, tears springing to your eyes almost immediately. little startled chokes cough from your throat as you pull off caleb’s cock, bands of saliva stringing from his tip to your mouth in a way that should be gross, but you don’t care one bit, too busy trying to catch your breath.

“shh, shh— breathe,” caleb soothes, eyes darkening with something perilously close to reverence and pride. “through your nose, slowly. you can’t force it, that’s why you keep choking. when you’re ready, try again.”

you let caleb thumb away your tears like he’s done countless times before and when you’re ready, when you’ve had enough air to breathe, you let him guide you back onto his damp cock. eager, swollen lips bringing him in against your cheeks in a hot, branding suction that twists his insides up.

he’s supposed to be teaching you, showing you the ropes so you can please your stupid boyfriend, but you barely even need it— god, you’re so good at this without even trying. how can he focus on teaching when he’s got all of his focus pointed towards trying not to shoot his load down the back of your throat like some inconsiderate asshole?

he can barely look down at you because every time he does, your teary eyes glance up at him through thick lashes with an expression that begs for praise. he knows if you didn’t have a mouth stuffed full of his cock, you’d be asking him am i doing it right, ge?

his thighs tremble, eyes lidded as you finally find a steady pace— mouth bobbing up and down, spit bubbling at the base of his cock where you’re starting to make a mess on him.

and when your hands dip down into his sweatpants, cupping his balls in your soft hand, caleb’s vision whites out, his climax rushing to the front at a rapid pace. before he can cum, though, he takes two fingers and pushes at your forehead, hauling you off his cock with a wet slurp. his chest heaves, dripping beads of sweat that glow in the haze of the neon lighting in his room.

he looks wrecked, and you fight your triumphant smile, schooling it into something unsure and pliant, batting your eyelashes. “did i… did i do it wrong?”

“fuck, no,” his chuckle is hoarse and ruined, calloused thumbs swiping spit from your chin as he gazes up at you meaningfully with those hooded eyes. “just don’t wanna cum down your throat.”

“o-oh.”

the implication makes arousal bubble low in your belly, thighs squeezing together in need. caleb tracks the movement, nostrils flaring as he grins knowingly. “yeah, you don’t want that either, do you, pipsqueak?”

for a while, the two of you just stare at each other in disbelief. you don’t know how to tell caleb that you’d take him in any form he’s offering himself in, pining after him long enough that it’s painful. nothing you ever did got his attention, not in the way you truly wanted. he’s protective and possessive in all the right ways, but he’d never make the first move.

he’ll never come out and admit that he wants to spread you out on his bed and fuck you dumb, mark you as his so nobody else can have you. it took you coming to him to even get this far, so you might as well take matters into your own hands once more.

“teach me the rest, ge?”

the rest.

caleb releases a pained groan at your words and you think he’s going to refuse you, but then he’s flipping your positions, pushing you down onto the mattress with ease. he makes quick work of his sweatpants, shoving them down the rest of the way. then, he wrestles your panties off your hips and tosses them somewhere across the room.

“look at you,” he whispers, pushing your shirt up— his cock leaking a bead of precum at the sight of your pretty tits. he reaches forward, toying with your puffy nipples, grinning at the sound of your soft whimper.

“c-caleb.”

“you drive me fuckin’ crazy, you get that?” the confession comes out sounding suspiciously like a whine. he gazes down at you like you’re water and he’s a man lost deep in the desert, dying of thirst. “you’re the prettiest girl in the whole wide world. look at these cute tits, just begging for me to touch them. and—”

his big hands sink into the fleshy part of your upper thighs, opening them to get his first exclusive look at your pussy. his thumb parts your folds, spreading one side apart to watch the way your entrance twitches. caleb dips one finger into your cunt and could fucking cry at how warm and tight you feel. “fuck, you’re so wet. is this all ’cause of me?”

“d-don’t look at it so shamelessly, you pervert,” you scold him, squirming back and forth in his hold as you try to snap your thighs shut. “stop teasing me or i’ll hit you. this is embarrassing!”

“why not?” he tilts his head, giving you that boyish grin that makes your heart stop. “after i’m done with you, it’ll be mine anyway. my pretty pussy. my girl.”

you huff and drive your fist into his shoulder before folding your arms over your breasts, lower lip stuck out in an unhappy pout. caleb winces, though mirth still shines amongst the nebulas in his eyes. he leans down to kiss your pout away, chuckling in amusement. “okay, okay, don’t hurt me. i’ll give you what you want.”

and then, he’s wrapping a hand around the base of himself, kissing your clit with the leaking tip of his cock before rubbing it up and down your slit. he coats himself in your wetness before he finally notches against your entrance and slowly pushes.

the pressure makes air stutter out of your chest, blunt and unyielding. he immediately notices your struggle and drops forward on his elbows, caging you safely in his embrace. he kisses the corners of your eyelids, licking away stray tears.

“i hate hurting you like this,” he whispers in your ear, hips drawing back and crawling forward again. you gasp, eyes falling shut, and he shushes you once more. slides a hand down to play with your clit to distract you, which only makes you clench up around him. his jaw is clenched tight enough to shatter the bone, hand fisted in the sheets next to your head. “shh— relax and let me in. it’ll feel good in a second.”

“i-i don’t know if i can,” you say, trying to force your body to accept him, but when he sinks in those first few inches, you whimper and dig your nails into his biceps. “y-you’re so big, gege.”

“f-fuck, don’t—” caleb grunts and his fingers grip the soft sides of your belly, holding your body to his like a lifeline. “don’t call me that right now. i might cum. i’m gonna put the rest in, okay? be a good girl for me and take it. i-i can’t wait any longer.”

he draws out and presses forward all the way in, burying himself to the hilt inside your sweet pussy. his gaze drops to where you’re split obscenely around him, cunt fluttering in protest at the stretch and a ragged groan tears from his throat. it takes every ounce of willpower the military beat into him not to cream himself right then and there.

“c-caleb!”

you whine as caleb retreats slightly, only to surge back in, fucking a little deeper this time. the weight of his cock stretching you out borders on cruel, but you would die before you ask him to stop, your walls squeezing him in a vice grip. it takes a few trials and errors (“keep your hips down, pipsqueak” and “i don't know, maybe a little to the l— fuck, right there oh my god”) but eventually, caleb builds up a good rhythm, the cool metal of his dog tags pooling in the valley of your breasts as he fucks you with deep, steady strokes; bottoming out each time with a guttural groan.

“fuck— stop clenching so much i’m gonna lose my mind,” his breath scalds your neck, teeth grazing your pulse as he fucks a little faster. “so fucking good. that’s it, baby. you’re doing so good. taking every inch of me like this.”

he’s right, it is so fucking good— no, it’s better. your nails scrape against caleb’s back. shivering at the hot pleasure singeing your nerve endings each time he fucks into you. it doesn’t take long for pressure to gather in your lower belly, a band waiting to snap.

you can’t help but wriggle a hand between the two of your bodies and circle a trembling middle finger around your swollen clit. “nngh, you feel so fucking good, cal.”

“a-are you- god, that’s so hot,” he grunts, glancing down at the way you’re toying with your clit and it turns him on so much he’s speeding up, cock pistoning in and out of you, his thrusts deepening until he’s nearly kissing your cervix, he’s in so deep, your thighs slamming against his hips as you try to close your legs when the head of his cock brushes right up against your sweet spot, creating starbursts behind your eyelids.

“oh god, cal— i-i can’t!”

caleb’s grin is feral, grinding deep to press into that swollen spot inside you relentlessly. “knew i’d find it,” then his fingers joining yours and it’s so much better than your own, two digits rubbing quick circles into your sensitive clit. you’re a babbling mess at this point, the pleasure too much to keep up with. “can you cum for me? can you let me feel it? please? i’ll never ask you for another thing if you give me one right here, right now.”

what are you supposed to do, deny him? you couldn’t even if you tried, not with the heat in your belly full to bursting, needing an escape.

“’m gonna c-cum for you, ge, just for you,” you sob.

caleb has seen many versions of you over the years— grumpy and pillow-marked in the morning with syrup stains on your shirt at the breakfast table, covered in sand and sun-kissed at the beach, screaming at him to do something about the jellyfish sting on your leg, in sleek black dresses at the military balls you attended as his plus one that made all his comrades stop and stare. but you’ve never looked prettier than you do right now. his dog tags between your breasts, your creamy pussy fluttering around his cock, and your pretty face twisted in pleasure as you’re about to cum for him.

he hopes that when he dies, he’ll go out with this image in his brain.

those big doe eyes of yours roll back into your head, hands frantically pushing at his abdomen as if he’s trying to escape the overwhelming friction of his cock. you cum hard, thighs trembling, vision winking out. wet droplets of tears stream down your cheeks as white heat washes over your body, the pleasure bleeding through your limbs like wildfire.

seeing you like this, what is caleb supposed to do? not follow you? he’s been holding his own orgasm back since you barged into his room in one of his shirts, begging to be taught how to suck a cock. there’s no way he can last through seeing— through feeling— you cum around him. his rhythm fractures almost immediately and he knows he’s on thin ice, fraying at the edges.

“gonna cum,” he grits out, voice mangled. “fuck, i’m gonna cum. where do you want it?”

you don’t waste a second, babbling out the answer desperately, “i-inside, ge, cum inside me. give it to me please i want it so bad i’ll do anything!”

that’s all it takes.

one more sloppy thrust and he cums right after you, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you still. he breathes choppy, ruined moans into your neck as he pumps his release deep inside your cunt before he collapses against you, damp chest heaving against yours, giving a few more weak thrusts of his hips as his climax ebbs.

you don’t know how long the two of you lay there, struggling to catch your breaths. you’re satisfied and pliant as putty underneath caleb, unable to move from his heavy embrace. he’s a wall of solid muscle, one that is pressing you into the mattress. “caleb, you’re heavy.”

“gimme a minute here, pipsqueak,” caleb chuckles breathlessly against your sweaty skin, pressing a wet kiss to your neck. “i just had the best sex of my life and can’t catch my breath.”

you begin to smile in pride, but then your eyes narrow as his words register through the fucked out haze clouding your brain. “wait, you were having sex before this?” you ask, jealousy bubbling up in your chest. “was it that one sergeant? the one who kept giving you lovey dovey eyes at the DAA gala?”

“mmm, nope,” he answers almost immediately, kissing your lips quickly to placate you, making your heart swell big and bright for the boy on top of you. “chill. saved myself all this time for you.”

your heart begins racing stupidly fast at that. “sap,” you tease, before an idea pops in your head and you reach for your phone tossed haphazardly on caleb’s bedside table.

caleb’s grip on you tightens as he notices you reach for it, a dark cloud shuttering his loving expression. “what are you doing?” he demands, the venom in his tone startling you a bit. “texting him already? that eager to try out what i just taught you?”

you frown in confusion until you remember the excuse you used upon coming into caleb’s room. wow, the boy you’re in love with is an idiot. giggling, you lean up and press a sweet kiss to his cheek before opening the camera on your phone and snapping a quick selfie of the two of you.

“no, you big dummy, i’m taking a pic of us losing our virginities together so i can add it to our photo album,” you explain simply, grinning. “and there was never any boyfriend, i made him up.”

#✰ミ݁ ׅ ࣪ starpens ! !#caleb x reader #love and deepspace #caleb x you #caleb x mc #caleb smut #lads smut #love and deepspace smut #lnds caleb #lnds smut #lads x reader #lnds x reader #love and deepspace x reader #xia yizhou smut

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jimingyue · 1 year ago

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Cat Tumblr Dashboard Simulator

🖋️ meowful-musings Follow

🕊️ birdwatching Follow

what's wrong with dry food??? my humans feed me it all the time and i think it's fine

💀 elusivehider-deactivated948204

op wheres the natural feeding option

🌲 outdoorsy Follow

you guys are getting fed?

#im a barn cat so maybe im missing something here #meowtthew don't look

7,192 notes

☀️ pawsitive-affurmations Follow

ITS OKAY TO BE A MOGGIE

YOU ARE NOT LESS VALID IF YOU ARE NOT A SPECIFIC PEDIGREE!!!!!

☀️ pawsitive-affurmations Follow

extra special shout out to cats who have "common" coat colors. grey tabbies and black cats i am rubbing against your head affectionately <3

🪤 m0usetrap01 Follow

as a grey tabby i really needed to hear this :"3

#i feel like i never see positivity posts for moggies even tho we're the most common type of cat....

154,688 notes

🎵 rage-against-the-meowchine Follow

i cant believe there are cats ACTUALLY advocating for kittens to be separated from their mothers before 12 weeks??? kittens still need to learn how to interact with other cats before being placed into their furever home omg you guys know you're advocating for undersocialized and aggressive cats right

❤️ loving-paws284 Follow

um op some of us??? matured early??????? i was separated from my mother at 7 weeks and i turned out fine... interesting how you assume that kittens being separated from their mothers at a younger age will lead to the degeneracy of the next generation...hmm i wonder where i've heard that before...

🐈 fluffy-the-cat Follow

OP got bit too hard during a play-fight as a kitten and it shows XD

🐟 tunafeesh Follow

also op have you ever considered that just because somecat is kind of scared and unable to deal with strange cats or humans, it doesn't mean they don't deserve to be adopted?? you sound like a vet psyop honestly

🎵 rage-against-the-meowchine Follow

oh meow god saying that kittens should be fully weaned before leaving their mother is NOT veterinarian rhetoric and i never said that they deserve to be euthanized!!! my mother literally died when i was 3 weeks old and it seriously messed up my development so stop putting words in my mouth, thanks

anyway friendly reminder that underweaned kittens are prone to illness and often struggle with basic cat behaviors like litterbox usage, and in some nyavinces it's even considered kitten abuse

#discourse #cant believe "kitten abuse is bad" is controversial now

32,456 notes

🍃 naturalliving Follow

BORN TO DIE

WORLD IS A FUCK

猫神 Kill Em All 1989

I am trash cat

410,757,864,530 DEAD BIRDS

#outdoorliving #outdoorcats please interact #outdoorcat friendly

48,971 notes

🎣 salmonpurina Follow

can't believe cats are uncritically reblogging that born to die world is a fuck post. i know it's funny but op is literally an outdoor cat truther

#like cmon now you just have to go to their blog #lulu speaks

34 notes

💀 tabbystripes-deactivated098712

gentle reminder that pushing cups off the table is not cute and can cause a lot of distress in your human!!!! gentle reminder that our teeth and claws can easily hurt them more than they can hurt us!!!!

🐰 evil-tabbystripes Follow

evil reminder that the cup should always be pushed off the table. evil reminder that you should always bite and claw at your human no matter what. you can do whatever you want forever

💀 tabbystripes-deactivated098712

make your own pawst

💀 laser-point-deactivated8574721

umm i know a tomcat who did that and his human ended up putting him down so...

👬🏻 nyasunaruenjoyer Follow

Nyaverage shelter cat behavior

#not nyaruto #re-nyab #pickles shut up

545,460 notes

🌈 nyaoi-warrior Follow

saw two male cats sleeping together on the porch today. homeow behavior imo

💡 discourse-meows Follow

hey um what the fuck??? it's really not okay of you to go assuming other cat's sexualities, especially cats you don't even know???? as a queer cat i'm VERYY uncomfortable. real-ass cats didn't consent to your nyaoi fetish, thanks

🌈 nyaoi-warrior Follow

1. i was making. a joak

2. i'm literally gay???

#literally what's your pawblem

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🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

reblog if you've ever caught the laser pointer

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

i know you fuckers are lying

🍭 gaykittens Follow

this tom hasn't caught the laser pointer

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

shut the heull up

988,653 notes

🐾 b-e-a-n-t-o-e-s Follow

grey toebeans >>>>>>>>> pink toebeans and don't let the haters make you believe otherwise

🐁 ladymouser Follow

op shut the fuck up ALL toebeans are beautiful!!! just bc you're miserable and insecure doesn't mean you can bring others down based on things they can't control

🐾 b-e-a-n-t-o-e-s Follow

oh so the cat-human separationist wants to preach to us

#long post #cat #fake dashboard #unreality #dashboard simulator

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ahoyimlosingmymind · 3 months ago

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Jason genuinely thanks people who tell him they love him. it catches people off guard bc he doesn't say "love you too" he says "thank you" and at first it sounds kind of cocky until they look at his face he has the most sincere and heartbreaking expression on planet earth, like the words really aren't something he's used to hearing, and to be the object of someone's love is like an immense occasion for gratitude. he says thank you like he's acknowledging that he's not easy to love, and that it's WORK, that it's some troublesome chore. Meanwhile, the person who said I love you is like: "bby NO--"

Jason seeing himself as high maintenance bc so many people make him feel like a burden. But the friends who genuinely love and accept him are like "could you be a bit more needy? we want to take care of you. can you need us? can you ask us for help? can you bother us? burden us please." (bc jason's version of being high maintenance is asking for the bare minimum of care)

I can just picture it so clearly. Roy or someone just being like "no I care because I love you." and Jason's like "that's a shit ton of work. are you sure?" and after seven consecutive months of self sabotage in the friendship, Roy says it again, "I care bc I love you" and Jason is finally like 'well he hasn't left yet... so something about this must be true and if it is... God Roy doesn't deserve the headache I am' and all he can say back is "thank you" like it comes from the depths of his heart.

and Roy is like, on the verge of tears: "WHY ARE YOU THANKING ME LIKE IM FULFILLING SOME TASK??" and Jason's like "??? are you not???"

@prlssprfctn <- this was cooked up in the chat between us lol

#Jason todd #Roy harper #batfam #batfamily #dc comics #red hood #the outlaws #“loving me is rotten work.”#“not to me. not if it's you.” is the dynamic I NEED for Jason to have with his friends

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fireinmoonshot · 5 days ago

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darling | robert reynolds x reader,

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Reader Summary: You always call Bob darling in private... until you accidentally slip up and use the nickname in front of the rest of the Thunderbolts. Warnings: Mentions of food/drink, reader is mentioned to not be mentally ready for a relationship and has a bit of a moment at the end struggling with their thoughts/struggling mentally in general. Word Count: 1.3k A/N: Thank you all so much for the amazing response on my first Bob fic 🥹 For my second one, this was actually the first idea I had for Bob but it took a bit of workshopping to get right. I ended up being really happy with it. I love writing the Thunderbolts team dynamic. I also put a little easter egg in there for anyone that's read all my other Joaquín fics since February this year. I hope you all enjoy! 💗

Bob had been called many different things in his life. There had been a series of insults from his family and people he’d hurt during his time as an addict. Walker always called him Bobby, which he hated. Valentina called him by his full name, Robert. He had other names like Sentry and Void when he was using his powers. But none of those could ever come close to his favourite from you.

Every time he hears the word darling come from your mouth, directed at him, he thinks it might be the closest he’s ever come to true happiness. He wishes every time that he could bottle that feeling up and keep it for when the days are especially tough.

“Darling, can you pass me that book?”

“Darling, how are you doing after that mission?”

“Darling, do you need me to do anything for you?”

The only bad thing is the fact that you aren’t his. It’s a mutual decision, though, so he can’t be mad. You’ve been in mutual like for a while now. But both of you have known that entering into something serious when neither of you are mentally ready for something like that would just be foolish and end up with one or both of you being hurt. Your friendship always mattered more than the possibility of your futures together.

But the nickname still stuck and Bob was glad for that.

He never cared that it was just in private. In fact, he rather enjoyed the fact that it was just for the two of you. That, whenever he was alone with you, it was almost a guarantee that he was going to hear your voice speak that gorgeous word.

He cared for the rest of the team so deeply, but the moments when it was just you and him were his favourites. When you’d be laying together on the couch, both of you reading the same book and having to wait till you’d both finished the page before turning to the next one. When you’d be in the kitchen together, Bob washing the dishes as you plated up some kind of masterpiece for dinner. The quiet times, when everyone else was asleep and you and Bob would stay up trading memories like they were the worlds greatest secrets.

The level of comfort he got in your presence surprised him, but he accepted it quickly.

It’s why, when you enter the room, he knows that you’re there. He relaxes almost instantly, just from sensing you getting closer. You reach out to rest a hand on his shoulder before you stop yourself, resting it on the top of the chair that he’s sitting on instead.

There’s still a little hesitation when it comes to touch between the two of you. Both because neither of you want to cross the invisible line you’ve both drawn, but because of Bob’s powers too. He still isn’t fully in control.

“Morning, darling,” the word slips out before you can stop yourself. It’s so normal these days to refer to Bob like this, but always in private. Never in the dining room of the Watch Tower where every other member of the team is having breakfast.

Bob is none the wiser to your blunder. He gets that same starry look in his eyes as he always does when he looks up at you, standing behind him. He wants to reach out, wrap an arm around your waist and tug you onto his lap, though he wouldn’t have the confidence to do such a thing even if his powers weren’t an issue.

He always melts a little when he hears you call him darling.

Across the room, you hear a groan.

“Oh, hell no,” Walker says, dropping the spoon back into his bowl of cereal. “You two are not doing that. Whatever is happening here, I don’t care, but we are not listening to you two call each other darling. Especially over breakfast.”

“What’s so wrong with a bit of young love?” Alexei exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air as he looks at Walker across the table. “This is good! Love heals the soul, there is nothing wrong with love!”

You frown. “Okay, who said anything about love?”

Alexei and Walker ignore you and continue to bicker.

You catch Yelena’s eye from across the room where she’s sat by the window, but she just shrugs her shoulders and goes back to staring out at the skyline.

“I would’ve thought you’d be all right with seeing affection, Walker,” Ava says, entering the room behind you. She’d obviously overheard the noise from the hallway. “You are married, even if you’re not together right now. Are you telling us you never called your wife something like that?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t make everyone else listen to me!”

Bucky, who has been watching everything the whole time from the corner of the room where he’s sitting, coffee in hand, huffs out a laugh. “You guys think this is bad? You should be glad you’ve never spent time around Joaquin Torres when he’s away from his girl.” He shakes his head and takes a sip of his coffee, not bothering to explain any further about the new Falcon.

You take advantage of the moment of silence that Bucky has caused to attempt to fix the situation. “Okay, no more talking about love or who is and isn’t allowed to call each other nicknames. Can we just drop it? It was a slip of the tongue!”

“Only if you explain why you said it,” Walker says.

“No,” you reply, pulling out the chair next to Bob’s and sitting down in it. It’s all you offer in way of an answer to Walker and he seems to surprisingly give up on fighting you on it.

You glance over to see that Bob is still looking at you, his eyes glistening and a small smile on his lips. The sight of it makes you smile as well. “I am never calling you that in front of the others again… even if it was just a slip of the tongue, that was mortifying.”

Bob smiles again and nudges a drink that’s sitting in front of him over towards you – he’s prepared your favourite and had it waiting for when you arrived. You try to ignore the feeling that rises in your stomach at the small act of kindness.

“But when it’s just us?” He inquires.

“You know it’s different then.”

You pick up the drink and take a sip of it before leaning back in your chair. Walker and Alexei have started bickering over something else. Yelena is still looking out the window, Bucky is in the corner with his coffee and Ava is exiting the kitchen with a drink of her own. It’s a fairly mundane kind of morning for a group of people meant to be the ‘New Avengers.’

There’s a sudden feeling that rises in your chest at the thought of your new status as an Avenger. It’s uncomfortable, unwelcome. You still don’t know how you feel about it, even many months later. It should be a good thing, but then why does it fill you with dread?

Bob can see the change in your expression and he’s quick to act. He reaches over and taps the table in front of you to get your attention. You pull your eyes away from the window, where you’d been staring, and meet his eyes instead. They instantly help to calm you.

“Quiet time?” Bob asks, nodding towards the door that leads into the hallway.

It’s like a code word between the two of you. When one of you needs to get away from the others or you start to get a little too wrapped up in your head. Two words that put you instantly at ease.

You nod and Bob wastes no time in standing up from the table. You follow him, leaving your drink in the dining room and walking out of the room with him, ignoring Walker as he calls out, asking where you’re both running off to.

“Thank you, darling,” you mutter, once you’re just outside the room.

Bob turns to you with a small smile on his lips. “Always.”

#bob reynolds #robert reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #marvel #marvel x reader #thunderbolts #thunderbolts x reader

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